My thigh bruise is healing quite nicely. Esteban freaked out when he saw it. I explained that I was crawling into the backseat of a Saab with my non-Swedish ass and it was like being born and somehow one of the strange Swedish knobs pierced me in a non-attractive place, but then I later mused ‘Or maybe I was engaged in some hot girl on girl action and the strap-on slipped.’
People, he actually stopped breathing and whispered with certainty, ‘That’s really what happened, wasn’t it?’
I could only laugh and laugh. Poor boy. I shouldn’t be so cruel, especially since I have the whole ‘catnip for lesbians’ thing going on. And in further proof that I am cruel, the lovely Carissa and Penelope visited my desk on Tuesday to express how much they missed me while I was gone so I hauled them into a conference room for the sole reason that I wanted to drop my pants for them (did you hear that noise? It was the sound of the hearts of each and every lesbian in the world strumming in anticipation of getting a little Weetaction) and show them the bruise. In harmony, they both gasped and went ‘OH MY GOD!!!’ and it gave me this incredible sense of satisfaction. Because that’s the kind of girl I am. Look at my bruise. Uh-huh. That’s right. Look at it and be in awe!
You know, sometimes I’m all tough and hard-core and have the wacky weird ‘One step and I’ll cutchew man, I’ll cutchew!’ hair and way too much lip gloss, and then in the next moment, one little sentence on Jake’s diary can just absolutely leave me all verklempt and ‘awww’. I would make a really horrible evil genius.
Evilbix: So’ Mister Bond, we meet again but this time shall be the last’ oh yes. Yes it shall. You know, I was intrigued by your speech to the world’s leaders in which you said I must have made a deal with the devil because my plans were always wickedly clever’ well’ did you mean that? Because (eyes fluttering as tears well up)‘ um’ that was like the best thing anyone has eversaidtomeeeeeeee!!! (voice climbs several octaves into dolphin range) Um’ ahem’ look at my bruise!
Last night, I got this weird over-dramatic bug up my ass and declared to everyone who was listening that I would never update my diary again.
So, um’ hi.
Actually, I just liked to remind myself that I have a choice in the matter. Sometimes I need to reassure myself of such simple things. It’s really just a symptom. I’ve also been fantasizing about quitting my job again. I’m working 80 gazillion hours this week and honestly started to wonder if the average Home Depot employee could afford a daily Sbux mocha. Or Opi nail polish. Or Tigi and Aveda hair products. Or a ridiculously expensive pair of boots.
Did I mention my new boots?? Black leather, calf high two-inch heeled boots. They are so freaking cool and unlike my normal standard comfortable sensible shoes, like my Docs or my leather loafers. I never usually wear heels because at 5’9′, I already feel as though I tower over most people and I really don’t want to see citizens of the world scatter as though Godzirra approacheth.
I wore them in San Franscisco, which was a bit dangerous, walking down very steep hills wearing high-heeled boots. I suspect my feet were almost vertical at times. My future arches will curse those boots, but I don’t even care because in my boots, I am invincible. I am both Dyna Girl and Electra Woman at the same time. I am Shake Shake Shake Shake yo Boots. I’m Every Woman in Boots. I am Picasso’s Boot Period. I am incredible. I am unstoppable. I am Fat Girl With Boots.
Pictures have been added to this entry.
