5 Randoms: My Walk is as Cheap as my Heels.

25 07 2012

1) Along with my regular workout, which is basically just running around the park followed by some sit-ups and push-ups, I have now incorporated not only KEGEL BALLs to strength my PC muscles (more, stronger, better orgasms + no pee leaking in old age) I’ve also started wearing high heels for like 20 minutes every day. High heels are hard. Walking anywhere in them is my biggest issue considering I have one of the fastest walks on the planet and when I add heels it cuts my time in half. Sad. Why am I concerned with heels?

I’m not necessarily concerned with them. But sometimes my work sells them for really cheap and I feel compelled to buy them, but there really is no point on owning them if I’m not going to wear them.

I got these purple heels for under five dollars. Aren’t they cute?

2.) Not too many super weird things have happened at work lately. Though the other day this guy asked me if we sold the nuva-ring. There was a lesbian couple standing at the counter checking out and I sort of looked at them like, “is this guy serious?” then turned to him and said, “the nuva-ring, like the birth control device? Like the thing you wear for three weeks full of hormones that you need a prescription for?”

He was like, “uugghh yeah, I think that’s what it’s called.”

Do we look like Planned Parenthood? Do any of us look like medical professionals? No dude. No.

3) July has been a lot like Manless May without the catch phrase.

4) I leave for Chicago very early tomorrow morning. I’m mostly excited to see all my lovely Chicago friends + ride the el + dip in the lake + drink martinis at the kit kat + be in a city where not EVERYONE knows my name. Seriously, Denver, you’re too small.

5) Yes, people, I’m thinking about moving out of here; if you have any suggestions, I’m open.

I Almost Pooped My Pants.

11 05 2012

Have you ever lived with someone else and shared a bathroom, then one day the other person is in the bathroom but you really really really have to go to the bathroom and for some reason they’re like taking an eternity (masturbating?) in there, so you hold it and hold it, but then your mind starts imagining all of the places in the house you could potentially go to the bathroom instead. Like in the kitchen sink. Or in a plastic bag. Or in an old salsa jar. But all of that imagining just disgusts you. So you hold it longer. Am I the only one who has done that? Who is actually doing it right now?

Trying to distract myself instead.

Wondering if any one driving by would see my squatting in the yard? Probably, we don’t have any trees. Or any bushes. Just some tall irises amongst the rocks. If I could go outside and transform myself into a dog then no one would notice. Except I’d be a dog without an owner and I’d probably get taken to the pound. Theoretically, if I could transform myself into a dog it would be better if I could just transform myself into someone who didn’t have to go to the bathroom. That would solve that problem.

I just watched this video as part of the distraction ploy.

I hear it all the time at work. What the hell is wrong with her? She dances like a drunk monkey that just did a speed ball and then stuck an anal plug up her butt. And a cut-off flannel? For a music video? About being someone’s lover? So weird.

Relief! Finally! Relief!

Okay. So now I can blog about something more important.


Occasionally at work I am selected to be the one who cleans up our lot. This is probably the worst part of the job for me. The best part is that I get to be outside. The rest is me bending over and over with my ass crack falling out of my pants while I pick filthy cigarette butts out of the pebbles. And whatever else I find. Which leads me to the finger nail. That’s right, the other day I found a strippers used thumb nail on the ground. I am still completely disturbed by this. I don’t know why exactly it creeps me out so much. I think it’s because I can’t quite figure out a good enough story behind why I had to pick up someone’s broken nail off the ground. Like was she opening a can of pop in the parking lot, and oops! So, she just threw it on the ground? Was she giving some guy a bj and the guy got angry and started breaking her fingers one by one? Is she dead somewhere? Should I call CSI? I didn’t know what to do. So I just threw it in the trash bag with the cigs and the sad droopy condoms.

I’m waiting for the day when I find drugs. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the drugs, sell them, snort them, share them with friends. Throw them away you say? Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll probably throw them away, you’re right, I’m not that cool. Plus, I don’t want to lose a finger nail and not remember where it fell off. . .because unlike this strippers by fingernails (and every other part of my body) are real.