Monday (Mondaze)

Currently laughing hysterically at my desk thanks to this.

My nearby co-workers surely think I'm some type of mental retard, but whatever. Thanks, internet.

Random Thursday Happiness includes...

1. Finding the perfect dress to wear to this wedding I have attend on Saturday. The prospect of being stranded in a place outside of my agreeable realm of TTC service (I honestly don't remember the last time I went somewhere that the TTC did not extend out to..it's kind of terrifying) filled with strangers and family that I hate (Hi, Dad) is emotionally daunting enough for me thankyouverymuch, I don't need the added worry of looking sub-par. And now, thanks to the lovely dress I acquired last night in a post-work power shop, I won't.

I first learned this lesson from a wise, brilliant friend who always sauntered in to our most formidable 8 a.m. university exams looking absolutely and entirely impeccable. When I eventually worked up the nerve to ask her why this was the case, I was met with a bit of wisdom which has not been quickly forgotten: "If this all turns out shit, which it probably will, at least I know I can catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror later and feel better about life."

Moral of the story: A dress that makes your boobs look great combined with a healthy amount of narcissism can go a long way when you're out of your comfort zone.

2. The fact that I have the next four days free to do whatever I please with (with the exception of the aforementioned wedding uncomfortable-ness...but hey, it's an excuse to wear a pretty dress, drink on someone else's dollar and flirt with dudes, so it can't be all bad).

Knowing me this means that the next four days of my life will consist of little more than my usual chain-smoking/drinking/going out/sleeping in/eating food every once in a while, but then again most anything that's not being confined within the beige walls of office hell seems pretty fucking delightful by me.

3. This, this and this article by Kate Carraway for Eye Weekly. I'm pretty sure she's been following me around town given the absolute fucking spot-on ness of her columns lately in relation to my life. Or we're just the same person. Either way.

4. The following photos of impossibly beautiful Scandinavian-by-way-of-Seattle models living out my dreams of summer, being gorgeous and grunge-tastically bohemian. Whoever is the first to find me a hot Kurt Cobain-esque boyfriend, so-ugly-it-borders-on-being-cute floral crochet poncho and a turquoise van to play guitar on top of first wins at life...fuck it, find me even one of those things and I'll buy you a cupcake or something.

scribbled notes from the desk of boredom, insecurity and indecisiveness.

You know you're fucked when you have twice as many draft posts in here as you do published. And not because they're incomplete.
Another sign would be when you continue to write "you", entirely subconsciously, when referencing yourself. And by 'yourself', I mean myself. Fuck. It's a hard habit to break.
Or when you laud a single Tuesday night at home without a drink as an accomplishment.
Also, when you tell everyone at work you're sick only to discover that you're actually sick, and just so out of touch with your own body that you're not sure what the difference between healthy and fucked is anymore.
Yep, you know you're fucked when.

P.S. Yes, I think I filled up my profanity quota in this post, thankyouverymuch.

Work.

I've been sitting at my desk absolutely blank-faced and cross-eyed for just over an hour now. Not moving. Seriously.

Moreover, I'm developing a somewhat borderline abusive relationship with Visine, Vicks Vapour Inhalers and smoke breaks just because I quite simply have nothing better to do with my time. I don't expect you to fully understand why I'm polluting myself with such activities, but I would like to state that if you were in this position right now you would most likely understand why a rather violent rush of chemical eucalyptus up your nose, eye drop tears streaming down your face and passive-aggressively pissing off your co-workers with the stench of your millionth B&H at 2:46 p.m. is better than nothing.

How is it possible that I'm able to go days on end, weeks even, without doing anything I actually care to do here? No wonder my mind wanders as it does and I'm sitting in front of this ridiculous screen typing these ridiculous words for anyone and no one in the world to read....

I'd say another coffee break is in order.