Manning le telephono
Working in a trendy design office in north sydney for a few days as a corporate receptionist biiaatch.
If this is what I had to do to come to terms with the fact that I am actually IN LOVE WITH MY LIFE just the way it is AWAY from the 9to5 doldrums then I guess I'm getting something out of this.
Fluroscent light is a horrid invention and is slowing eeeking out my braincells and making me feel tired, cranky and wrinkly.
The boss guy came in before and barked at one of the girls that "we need some more traction happening around here" WTF? I in turn slunk back into my corner and discretley looked up the word 'traction' on the net dictionary and am still puzzling over said instruction.
I have been busting myself in daydreams all day about some wonderful extraordinarily slow sex I had on sunday morning, everytime I remember I actually start blushing at my desk facing the wall and get all these little flutters in my stomach. What a joy to find a man who likes fucking softly. Friend A has been insisting that I have the 'feelings' talk shortly or I'm going to turn further into a neurotic mess of paranoia, suspicion and bipolar proud moodswings..
Friend B went home with a guy over the weekend who changed into pyjamas before hopping into his bed with her and then in the morning made her an omelette. Sitting in my favourite cafe on saturday afternoon she literally bowled in the door still wearing electric blue slinky satin dress with huge quantities of kohl round each eye socket bouncily well fed. He gave good flanelette cuddles apparently..
If this is what I had to do to come to terms with the fact that I am actually IN LOVE WITH MY LIFE just the way it is AWAY from the 9to5 doldrums then I guess I'm getting something out of this.
Fluroscent light is a horrid invention and is slowing eeeking out my braincells and making me feel tired, cranky and wrinkly.
The boss guy came in before and barked at one of the girls that "we need some more traction happening around here" WTF? I in turn slunk back into my corner and discretley looked up the word 'traction' on the net dictionary and am still puzzling over said instruction.
I have been busting myself in daydreams all day about some wonderful extraordinarily slow sex I had on sunday morning, everytime I remember I actually start blushing at my desk facing the wall and get all these little flutters in my stomach. What a joy to find a man who likes fucking softly. Friend A has been insisting that I have the 'feelings' talk shortly or I'm going to turn further into a neurotic mess of paranoia, suspicion and bipolar proud moodswings..
Friend B went home with a guy over the weekend who changed into pyjamas before hopping into his bed with her and then in the morning made her an omelette. Sitting in my favourite cafe on saturday afternoon she literally bowled in the door still wearing electric blue slinky satin dress with huge quantities of kohl round each eye socket bouncily well fed. He gave good flanelette cuddles apparently..
posted by nympheas at 10:26 PM
2 Comments:
We need some traction
Fuck me.
I'm stealing that for my play (The Temp-est. As yet I just have the title. And the lead -- moi, natch.)
This girl I used to work with had yellow flannelette sheets. She said going to bed at night was like climbing into a big fluffy ommelette.
Who needs a man?
[sob]
me.
I'm sure them sheets be horribly flammable. (hands locket a wonderfully soothing pink spotted flanellete hankie to stem the sobs)tempting as it may be don't go near an open flame..
Post a Comment
<< Home