Spread of Ass

So I get up and throw on a pair of jeans today to go to work.

Now, normally, I'm not a calorie counter. I excercise when I can, I eat what I want, within reason.
But this morning, I'm grumpy, because the jeans are tight.

Now, working the uber-sedentary job will lead one's ass to spread.
This displeases me, so I've been eating less, as I haven't been able to excercise.
I've also been trying to eat healthier.
You know, more greens.

So here I am, grumpy about my tight jeans. Because I've been actively trying to counter-act the tight jean syndrome.

Then I notice that in my morning haze, I put on an old pair, one size smaller than I usually wear.


So now, it doesn't bother me quite as much, considering I can even fit into them.
- k.

we could goldplate your fucking box and plant million dollar roses in it...

Sometimes a problem can be retraced to a single person.
A single person has the ability, through inspiring fear, terror, and therefore a strange loyalty, to bottleneck an entire workflow.
This person has the single handed ability, though their lack of taste, to allow an entire company to stagnate.

I will shine your crown tomorrow, oh Imperial Highness i-have-no-sense-of-style Queen Whiny Bitch.

Tomorrow.

Because I'm going home now.
- k.

I'm Appalled

There’s this show on A&E where people who want to know about what people are thinking about them dress up and spy on their friends or family.

Like this one chick wants to know why her best friends doesn’t like her feiance… so she’s dressed up as a man and is interrogating her friend over dinner that a mutual friend set up.

Because sitting down as asking her “Best Friend” what her problem is doesn’t make for good television, I guess.

But the use of the word “good” in that previous statement is a stretch.

The thing that gets me is that the “spy” just had the audacity to say “I think she might be mad at me when she finds out.


Oh, I hope she’s mad.
I hope she’s spitin’, catfightin’, ragin’ bull mad. I hope blood flies. I hope the friend storms out and make one hell of a scene. Maybe the fake moustache will get ripped from her face.
That’d be Awesome.

But really, my attention span will probably won’t last that long.

Unless there’s blood. Oh, and I do hope this ends in this subversive wench gets a bloody nose.

Reality TV brings out the worst in me.
- k.