Sorry for the late entry, I was busy updating
Gingi.
Tuff job, but someone's gotta do it. And if you didn't get the memo, I can bring home the bacon AND fry it up in a pan.
Lick it up, baby. Lick. It. Up.
*~*
I'm in much better spirits, although I am working like an Egyptian slave. The casting is all off on this tragedy, because I should be the Pharaoh's wife. At the very least, I should be the Pharaoh's favorite mistress. It's so unfair.
I worked until 11PM last night. That's fairly fucked up, I feel. It's just WRONG. However, I don't feel I am going to continue to go along with this ridiculosity.
It's time for a little Partygirl house cleaning. Clean slate, and all the rest of those cliches. I'm getting my life in order. More to come on that.
*~*
So last night, when I left my office, I popped a smoke in my mouth and searched desperately for a lighter while keeping my eagle eye out searching for a taxi.
Some Saddam Hussein look-a-like came walking up behind me, stopped next to me and tried to box me out of the oncoming taxi traffic. I gave him the evil eye and moved forward, still searching for a light.
Then I heard, from behind me, "need a light?" and I saw Saddam holding out a lighter for me. I was still squinting my eyes when I suspiciously thanked him for the light.
And then he let me take the cab that pulled up. I gave him a nod.
So I got to my local deli and stopped for a pack of smokes. The Pakistani deli guy gave me a SWEET zippo with my smokes, it's covered with a baby-shit-brown leather map of the state of Montana. It's so badass. "Shhh, Pardy,[sic] don't tell anyone, I ordered for you. Special."
"Really!?," I squealed "I can have it!? This is like Christmas!!!!," I told him. He tried to shrug it off and again told me to keep it quiet. "Okay," I whispered, "thanks!"
As I walked out of there last night, I thought myself, "Girl, things are looking up."
And lighting up. Smoke 'em if ya got 'em.
PS - Don't forget to e-mail Spanklin at [email protected] to have your problems answered and advice issued. People, I know you 'gots problems. Give it up, honey. Lay it down for the GoodAdvice Guy. Word.
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