Much needed sick day after working overtime every day this week with a cold! Somebody please bring me more donuts and be the big spoon.
I usually enjoy being on my back, but this is getting ridic.
I’ve been living off muscle relaxers, pain killers and salon pas for the past three weeks. The cause is still unknown, but I’m pretty sure I went too hard at the Paul McCartney show! Ha.
I’ve been stressed out at work lately, and the doctor thinks I might be carrying the stress in my back. If only he could write me a doctor’s note forbidding me to work overtime. It’s the least he can do, since he won’t prescribe me more vicodin!
Homemade chicken sopas + Netflix. This pretty much sums up my entire weekend.
I had dinner plans on Friday and Sunday, but I was too sick to go to either. Now the inside of my car is clean for no reason! Ha. Just don’t look under the blanket in the trunk. Nothing to see there…
9:30 in the morning might seem a bit early to chalk this day up as a loss, but I’m going to do it anyway. This does not bode well for my weekly weigh-in tomorrow.
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?
You know things are bad when you start to consider the conductor of a park train and your friends are encouraging that shit!
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.
I find that my feelings toward work this week are best expressed through animated gifs. In addition, I really picked the most inopportune time to lay off the booze.
No lunch break at work, an hour of unpaid overtime, and a Chargers loss. Is my pet’s head gonna fall off next???
You said it, Rivers…
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, Antonio invited us to JT’s for karaoke night.
#1 I’m not that kind of Asian and #2 I only go to JT’s for happy hour after (and sometimes during) a shitty day at work! We decided to go anyway, and I actually ended up having a pretty good time. But when I tried to close my tab, they couldn’t find my credit card. Instead, they found a receipt with my name on it and a signature that wasn’t mine! The bartender apologized for giving someone else my card and gave me two free drink tokens for the mishap. Yeah, just because I occasionally drink my lunch there doesn’t mean that two free drink tokens makes up for losing my card… especially since the person they gave my card to used it to pay for their food at Taco Fiesta afterward! FML.
I knew it was a bad omen when we saw that trashy girl at the bar with the dead black front tooth!
Today was especially rough.
I was sitting here after my workout, watching Unwrapped: Sandwiches on the Food Network (torture, I know). They featured the Grilled Cheese Invitational in LA, and I decided that this event would be well deserved after the @MindzAlike #BLC was over. I googled it, and of course it’s happening the weekend before this BLC ends! Boo whore. That would have been the ultimate celebratory meal.
Five weeks left, and I’m on top with over 20 pounds lost. Those delicious grilled cheese sandwiches will just have to wait till next year…
Oh, Starbucks… you and your complimentary mini cupcakes can’t break me. I’ll stick to my zero calorie iced green tea with two splendas, thank you very much.
Between going to the gym at an ungodly hour, working 9-5, and circuit training with Arlene after work, I barely have enough time and energy to take a shower and do some light internet stalking before I cry myself to sleep at night out of hunger.
This pretty much sums up the next seven weeks of my life. FML.
This was me realizing that my blouse was unbuttoned and my boobs were exposed after I interviewed this tall drink of water who applied for our graphic design internship today.
This was me planning my exit strategy out of bed this morning.
I skipped our workout tonight for Mary’s birthday dinner, so Arlene told me to “prepare for a beat down” tomorrow. Yikes. Does carbo-loading with Hot Hot Mexican rolls from Sushi Deli 2 count as preparation?
When I’m not getting my ass handed to me by Arlene, I like to go to the gym and take turbo kickboxing classes. Or walk barefoot on shards of glass—pretty much any activity that’s less painful than working out with that crazy Mexican. I was early for kickboxing tonight, so instead of warming up on the treadmill, I played Angry Birds on my phone in the ladies locker room. This girl came in and asked me what time it was and if I was going to kickboxing. We started chatting, walked to the class together, and ended up working out next to each other. I don’t normally stay for abs at the end of class, but I didn’t want to look like a little bitch in front of my new buddy, Coleen, so I pushed through it. Afterward, she offered me her number so that we could go to classes together, and I found myself agreeing to work out with her Saturday morning. So not only do I get tortured by Arlene five times a week, I now have a gym buddy to push me at what’s supposed to be my safe haven away from Arlene! Why do Mexican girls always want to be my friend??? LOL. Ay guey.
When Arlene told me that we were going to do the “Spartacus” workout tonight, I expected there to be blood and sand.
This was worse.
I’m pretty sure Arlene tried to kill us last night.
My friend, Arlene, has given birth to four kids (including twins!) in the past decade, but you’d never be able to tell by looking at her. When she offered to whip my ass into shape this past weekend, I was at my ex’s sister’s wedding, surrounded by my ex’s entire family, and taking advantage of the open bar. And maybe the mini donut vendor, too. Clearly, I was at my most vulnerable when I agreed to let her train me!
We had our first boot camp session last night, and I feel lighter already. But that might be because I threw up during our workout. Three times.
Bitch doesn’t fuck around.
Our office hours are changing, and I’m expected to be bright eyed and bushy tailed an hour earlier than usual starting Monday. FML.
(photo via *December Sun)
Last night, I drank some bubbly and spent hours getting laid.
Okay so maybe that bubbly was a sparkling strawberry lemonade from Sonic. And those hours spent getting laid were really spent making a lei for Chubby’s 8th grade promotion.
My Friday night could not have been less sexy.