kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Real women don't sweat. They perspire. Okay, this could become a problem. I�m like a guy who can�t keep his dick in his pants. Only I�m not a guy, and I have no dick. Instead I have the worst case of �R.E.� ever. That�s Roving Eye ladies and gents. I ogle men on the subway, on the sidewalks, in the elevator. Today was the final breaking point when I found myself flirting shamelessly with my new chiropractor. In my own defense, he is really cute. Yes. It�s true. I�m a horn dog. Of course I�m not doing anything about my overactive imagination. I�m a faithful gal. There was that one time I ran into the twenty-five year old post-reuniting with C. At the time I was on my third watermelon martini; not to mention the wine I�d had with dinner. That�s my excuse. And nothing happened. Nothing happened other than me being a complete ass and chastise him for not calling me. He looked at me quizzically and reminded me that I was back together with my boyfriend. Oh. Right. I really showed him huh? Should I be concerned about my sudden attraction to every male on the island of Manhattan that is not my boyfriend? Eh. Feck it. So here it is, the last weekend of summer. Friday afternoon�counting down the hours until I make it to Penn Station and get jostled about and end up squashed on the LIRR, tense and miserable, cursing everyone and longing for a glass of wine and a cigarette. Isn�t summer fun?! At least I can catch up on my gossip rag reading. US and In Touch are the only things that make the beach commute bearable. I nearly broke my back carrying all the September glossies to work today � Vogue alone weighs nearly five pounds. No reason to hit the gym. I can do magazine curls on the beach. I would feel more distraught by the fact that summer has sped by and left me without much of a tan and with the same ten pounds that I promised I�d be rid of by June 1st but we�re leaving for Mexico on the 6th so I feel a slight sense of reprieve. There is still time to get golden, have mind boggling sex and drink pina colada out of coconuts. That is assuming we don�t get hit by a huge hurricane. Of course if that happens it only means I�ll be having even more sex and more pina colada�s. I guess either way I win. I can always slap on some fake tanner and be grateful for the wrinkles I avoided by being caught in a twister Auntie Em. One last thing before I spend the next two hours in my office trying to look busy�I interviewed for another job on Tuesday. It was a good job. I had a better than average chance of getting it. The whole thing had been in the works for a few weeks and I finally went in to interview on Tuesday. I hadn�t told a soul because when I interviewed at a certain four letter French conglomerate I told everyone and then I had to listen to the �Did you hear back?� query for ages afterwards when obviously if I had heard back I would have said so. Right? Right. So I ended up feeling like a big loser. So this time around I told no one and things were lining up really well. Really well that is until my deodorant failed me during the big interview and I had huge pit stains on my super cute, tastefully sheer, grey t-shirt that I wore with my black Rebecca Taylor tuxedo pants and red & white spectator pumps. I�m not exaggerating here. I had pit stains the size of large deli bagels. It wasn�t pretty. And there, my dears is the reason why I will not be switching jobs anytime soon. I thought maybe all would be forgiven considering everything else in the interview went so swimmingly (not referring to the pools of sweat residing in my underarms and dribbling down into my belly button even though I suppose one could have swam in them). But alas, here it is Friday, and I was supposed to hear back in �a couple of days�. Even being generous with the definition of �a couple of days�, I would imagine the decision date has come and gone and I will forever be remembered as �That one with the big pit stains�. Word to the wise�only wear cute sheer tee shirts when it is 50 below zero outside and you�ve had all your sweat glands removed. Live and learn. La de da. La de da.
2:04 p.m. - 2003-08-29 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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