23 Dec 2009
12:37 pm
Woohoo, I'm at the rents. Bloke's coming tomorrow and I have to say,
I'm not even nervous. Maybe it's because I'm currently drunk on my
mom's fudge and wearing fluffy pink pig slippers (tres apropos). I
worked on Monday, and let me tell you, it was brutal. Don't you hate it
when you've perfectly paced yourself to get through your workload and
somebody (named Claire) cruises by and dumps 6 more things on your
desk at 5:00p.m.? Since I was flying out the next morning, I had no
choice but to suck it up and stay till 10 to finish. She was all, "I'd
like this (and this, and this) sewn up tonight. I don't want to be
worrying about it while I'm lying on the beach in St. Barths." And I
was all, "course not Claire, no one would want that." I ended up
packing an entire suitcase of dirty clothes, just like when I was in
college. Ugh. Whatever. At least I know that Claire left for vacation with
visions of me hunched over my monitor, working my arse off for her. It
is, after all, the image I'm trying to drill into her skull.
Anyway,
I've been able to calm my family down about Bloke coming. Mom promises
not to interrogate, or force-feed him, and Dad says he won't be super
scary. Meanwhile, on his end, Bloke has had to juggle his plans all
around to make sure he can actually get here due to all of the insane
flight delays in NY. What a champ!
Now, try not to gag or anything—because I have to say: I think this is going to be the best Christmas ever. Come on! Stop making that barfing sound. It's so immature.
