Welp this is my almost first blog post (sooo second?) because I'm fucking bored and unhappy at work. I should note that when I clicked on blogger.com, it automatically signed me into the blog I created for my AP Lit class during my senior of high school. Which was in 2009! 5 years ago! How does that even work? For some reason it doesn't bother me that Google and the US government and whoever the hell else knows pretty much alllll my shit but this old blogger account that somehow never logged off? Very unsettling. (EDIT: Did not realize blogger was linked with gmail so I guess that explains that :-/) I'll keep that first post for posterity. It's just a dumb old question anyway.
Ughhh my job sucks so hard! Seriously! It's terrible. I've gotten to a point where I'm simply don't do the work I'm supposed to do and then proceed to lie about actually doing it. My life is just like Office Space except it's not that funny and where's my male equivalent of kooky hot waitress Jennifer Aniston?? I sit and refresh twitter and facebook and several blogs and pick at my split ends or dried cuticles. It doesn't matter what I'm supposed to be doing--office jobs are office jobs are office jobs. An added "perk" to my day is hearing the coworker that I once upon a time hooked up with through the wall of my office. He's teaching a class and his voice dully cuts through the wall and into my space and I guess I could put headphones on but I'm a masochist. We had a sloppy, drunk hookup, where I could barely go down on him for fear of vomiting all over his dick and when he fingered me it was somehow very, very painful. He kept hitting a bone or cartilage or something!!! that I did not previously realize was part of my pelvic area. Blech. Neither of us had condoms so no p-in-v sex (the one solid piece of judgment amid a sea of jello choices) and needless to say it never happened again.
Speaking of hookups -- I'm horny as fuck! My ex broke up with me about 6 months ago and that train wreck of a night has been my only physical sexy contact (save for my right hand). Rides on the T are almost unbearable. My neck is sore from the constant craning it does scoping out cute guys. My mind is exhausted from imagining these cute guys naked and what their hard dick would feel like through their jeans. Damn!! I don't think this blog will turn into smut central (I am writing this at work so I gotta be careful who looks over my shoulder and when) but maybe it will? Or at least sometimes...gotta keep the readers (ha!) interested. Anyway.
I sign into our agency's online database system just to feel like I'm doing something and also to have a window open to pull up when someone (my boss, my boss's boss, a coworker I don't trust) knocks on the door. It logs out after about 20 minutes of disuse and then I sign right back in.
I work in a room with 3 other coworkers and a rotating slew of interns. The only good part about the space is the enormous window. It lets in glorious natural light and looks out onto an alley with a concert hall at the end of it. It's always a little exciting to see the tour buses and equipment vans line up along the street and I hope to catch a glimpse of the headlining act shoot the shit with roadies or smoke a cig by the bus but of course I never do. Last week a youtube tween sensation performed at the hall and the14-year-old girls with their stick-straight hair and skinny jeans started lining up at noon. They were with parents who all had that bored, dead look in their eyes; maybe even tinged with a little bitterness because they'll never again be so young and so excited about something where standing for hours doesn't amount to pain, but only to a mounting nervous energy begging for release.
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