In a 40 person office, I am the sole person on my wing. The only one. Which is making it very hard to motivate. So far today I’ve approved the daily media report, eaten leftover couscous for breakfast, done some quality Facebook stalking and drank two cups of coffee. I’d call that very productive.
My list of things to do today include continue to perfect my 2000’s hip hop Pandora station, cross all my fingers and all my toes they close the office early, peruse weather.com and certainly, under no circumstances, online shop.
Speaking of 2000’s hip hop. I realized Sunday when I was “running*” that as I listened to most of these songs on the radio** when I was younger, they were censored. So many swears, Ja Rule, so many swears.
I was at the gym last night all ready to exercise like a mother fucker when a 904 number popped up on my cell phone. A random 904 number can only mean one thing– that I haven’t called my grandmother in over a week*** and therefore, I must be dead or not OK. So she panics, she breaks out her brick-sized burner drug dealer cell phone (because only elderly grandmothers and drug dealers still pay for cell phone minutes by the minute) to call me long distance.
After reassuring her that I was absolutely OK, just neglectful, in the hallway of the gym, I got on the elliptical for 6 whole minutes and then walked to the bar because french fries and a beer sounded so much more compelling than working out. Excellent life choice I think.
I pretty much love the 4th of July. Fireworks, a parade, an excuse to eat 45 hot dogs and drink beer in daylight. What’s not to love?
Friday morning gentleman caller J$ and I are hoofing it to exotic exotic Hackensack, New Jersey for a wedding. I bought a new dress. I am going to smash on some Italian food and try to figure out where the mobsters hang out. They probably hang out in Hackensack, right?
I always thought I’d be an excellent mobster wife. Although I’m not a great liar and would totally buckle under pressure, so maybe not that part. Carrying around wads of money and having really big hair? Now that I could do. I’ve clearly seen Goodfellas too many times. And now I’m rambling.
*I use the term running very loosely, as it is mostly moving at a pace slightly quicker than walking and trying not to die on a street corner. Or throw up.
**Because, young folks, this was way back in the day when people still made mix CDs. You want to blow a 7 year old’s little mind? Tell them Gameboys used to be in black and white.
***Because I call once a week like an extra great granddaughter.