Finally starting my weekend after working 17 hours of overtime! Super bummed I missed cicLAvia and Anthony being in town. If there’s a silver lining in this, it’s that I can drown my sorrows in the beer he left at my apartment…
After putting in 20 hours of overtime this weekend, I don’t know what’s sadder—is it that I had vending machine pop tarts for dinner, or that I know from experience that the lights automatically shut off at my work at midnight?
After waking up every day at an unholy hour, driving upwards of 2 hours each way, putting 550 miles on my car, and paying $46 in toll fees to commute back and forth between my sister’s place in the OC and my job in Manhattan Beach, I’ve finally moved into my new place in Redondo Beach! I couldn’t be happier that I’m only 2 streets away from my work now.
When I found this steal on Craigslist and submitted my rental application, the landlord who lives upstairs mentioned that he loves Filipino food and has never met a Filipino he didn’t like. I mean… if he only leased the bottom floor of his townhouse to me because he thinks I know how to cook Filipino food, then he’s in for 3 months of disappointment!
Chatting with you is the only thing I’m going to miss about work! It puts a smile on my face when you send me nick@nite texts and pictures of your 22″ hot dog, so try not to forget about me after I blow this popsicle stand!
I was roped into participating in an office juice cleanse. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and it kind of feels like the first day of school. Minus the fact that you get to eat solid foods that day. I’m pretty sure we’re all going to hate each other by EOD.
I went outside to grab something from my car when some creeper who works a few warehouses down tried to hit on me. He said that he has seen me around and has been meaning to introduce himself, all while staring at my chest! I hadn’t had any coffee yet, and I was not in the mood to be ogled. I told him I needed to get back to work, and he told my chest to come visit him anytime. Ugh. I truly wonder if he felt that went well.
I’m going to file this encounter under ‘reasons I need a new job,’ along with having to buy dental groupons because my work doesn’t provide basic dental insurance.
…although it’s questionable how publicly acceptable I look when I’m not at home!
Apparently, while I’m at work gchatting with my friends (which is frequently—unless my boss is reading this, in which case it’s occasionally and only on nights and weekends), they’re at home wearing mascara while I’m out in public without a stitch of makeup on.
God forbid I run into the love of my life at Starbucks while wearing my yoga pants that, if we’re being honest, have never been worn to yoga.
Not only did I receive a reminder from Anthropologie that I’m turning thirty next month, but I also got stuck with a “family” frame (for the husband and kids I don’t have) at the white elephant gift exchange at my office today.
If only I had picked the booze that Jesse brought so I could drown my sorrows.
Jesse: so im going to the home depot parking lot in 15 minutes to buy nye tickets from dude off craigslist
me:i hope you have your gat strapped
Jesse: if im not back in 30 minutes, call the police cuz ive likely been stabbed and robbed
me: can i have your white elephant gift if you don’t come back?
Happy birthday to my BFF at work! I didn’t come in an hour early to post-it bomb just anyone’s desk ;) My appreciation for you runs deeper than your secret love for Hootie and the Blowfish. And I think we both know just how deep that is. Ha!
This was me after the recent layoffs at work these past few weeks.
Jesse said it was so quiet in the office yesterday that you could hear a mouse fart. My boss let go of half of our marketing team (including the two interns I wasted six months of my life training), and I’ve been given all of their marketing responsibilities. If I have to google how to do one more fucking Excel formula, I might have to cut a bitch. And since no one else is left, it might have to be Jesse. Or that farting mouse.
Yesterday, I brought my lunch and gym clothes to work.
My untouched ground turkey is still sitting in the fridge because Mary and I had 25¢ wings at JT’s instead, and my unused gym clothes are still neatly folded in the trunk of my car because Christian wanted to go to happy hour.
My work’s proximity to the bar is clearly foiling my plans to eat better and work out.
I went to work yesterday morning, had happy hour (and a $200 tab according to my bank account!) at JT’s with my coworkers afterward, never made it home or to The Casbah as planned with Jessie last night, and woke up this morning in my coworker’s apartment.
Contrary to the last time I went out with all my work friends (AKA my manager’s drunken birthday disaster of 2008), I’m pretty sure we’ll all still be speaking to each other on Monday! Ha.
My Hawaii trip with the girls was before Chel got married, before Pammie bought a condo in the OC, before Shi was the maid of honor in three different weddings, and before I sold my soul to the company I work for. I only have ten months left till my dirty thirty, and I’d like to live a little before I start extreme couponing for Olay Regenerist. Just kidding. I’m Asian—I fully intend to look like I’m twenty-something well into my forties.
With two new graphic design interns starting this month, I think I might be able to take an actual vacation this summer. And maybe I’ll even be bikini-ready by then! Okay, maybe just tankini-ready… let’s not write checks my body can’t cash.
I love when my preggo co-worker’s husband brings her Chez Nous, because that means I get Chez Nous, too! Their spicy chicken melt fixes things in the universe. Throw in some garlic parm fries, and we have a meal I’d ask to marry me.
I’m looking for a graphic design intern to assist me with overflow work. If you’re well-versed in Photoshop/HTML, don’t mind working with a bunch of female twenty-somethings, and kick ass in Taboo, please respond to our Craigslist ad here.
Needless to say, the guy who sent me his cover letter in Comic Sans will not be getting a call back from me.
Arlene’s 7-year-old daughter, Gisella, made me a Valentine’s Day card at school because she knew I didn’t have a Valentine this year. Thanks for the reminder, kid! Haha. I love that little munchkin. I would pin her card up in my cube at work, but it’d be overshadowed by Belle’s gaggle of heart-shaped balloons!