snarfskins.

welcome back to the fridigdaire i call my l'office. now if you look to the right, and over my shoulder, you'll notice that i landed the blue room while my two bosses landed the aubergine and green rooms, respectively. why do we have color coordinated rooms? my boss thought it would be a cute idea and an effective waste of money.....but am i complaining? no. why? because i love matching my hands to the colors of the wall because it is *so* fucking cold in here.

now i realize that as a nouveau blogger, i'm inexperienced and mal-adept at creating a succesful blog so early in it's naissance; however, on day four of my bitching...i mean blogging....i think i've done a horrible horrible HORRIBLE job. so i apologize for any stupidity you've had to endure and your IQ potentially dropping a few hundered points as consequence of reading my smut. though, you have kind of undertaken your own demise by reading something entitled "bitch pulled out my weave", no? in any event, it's 8am, or somewhere around there, i've been at work for almost 2 hours, and even though i ate a big bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, i'm sitting here staring at my turkey-pita-pocket-thingy of a lunch because i'm starving. yay pms! only upside of pms is stepping on the scale and seeing you did in fact lose weight, not gain the 200000lbs you feel like you did and your clothes lied to you about. speaking about pms....what is it with every drugstore in all of schenectady (i hide my name in shame for a-knowing how to spell that, and b-living here for the time being) having obscenely hot guys working behind the counters? i'm not talking "oh, he's fuck-able", i'm talking a muttered "holy shit" under your breath as you walk in and look to casually see who's behind the counter and will be checking you out today and, consequently, you will be checking out today as well. they're hot! and i'm supposed to walk in, grab my tampons and go up to some adonis of a man and be okay with myself? i realize i'm 23, i realize i've been buying/using sanitary products since the tender age of 14, and i realize it's utterly stupid to care what some guy who works at a drug store thinks because he's probably checked out more fleet enemas than playtex gentle glide slim fit tampons, BUT, momma didn't raise me to be no tactless ho. correction, momma didn't raise me to be a complete tactless ho. so, out of the three drug stores i tried yesterday (one cvs, one eckerd, and one rite aid), i ended up with a shitload of diet dr. pepper, and nail polish---can't walk in and walk straight out, that's just weird--and no fuckin tampons. i even bought bath salt! but no tampons. OY!

this brings me to my next lovely point: there is one predominant downfall of being jewish--at least a jew in my family--and for those who didn't know, yes, i got my yellow star affixed cutely to my white polo--i can't wrap for shit. gift wrapping and i are like *this*. i mean sometimes, if the gift is a perfectly shaped box, we're like **this**, but most of the time we're at a constant and comfortable *this*, which is fine with me because who the fuck gift wraps anymore? well apparently me, but who else?!! havent we reached a point in our lives when the gifts thou givest should just be the cash we know everyone wants/needs? i have half a mind, for my next birthday to be like "alright--you pay off my electric bill, you pay off my water, you get my gas, and YOU! you get my cable bill"...i mean isn't that better than some gift wrapped thing that, though possibly something you want, is going to end up somewhere hidden away/not used/forgotten/thrown out/exchanged? (i must admit, that i did get a ps2 for my b-day once, and that gift is beyond used so thanks to my homies for that one!) better yet! save a tree and don't giftwrap it, just hand it to me and be like "dude i got you this, happy birthday and shit"---i mean, is gift wrap required?!! oh and don't even get my started on the fuckin gift bag. how lazy can you be?!! gift bag to me says: "yes, i bought you something, and i wanted it to be a surprise, but i'm too lazy to actually sit down and wrap the fucking thing so i got a decorative bag, some decorative tissue, loaded up the bag, shriveled up some tissue, and poof man, all you gotta do is reach in and you'll know what it is, but my, don't these frilly extra's make you feel special?" answer to that is: no. although, i pity you for spending a good 6 bucks on something that would have had the same affect if you had used a fuckin brown bag. so anyway, back to my point: i can't gift wrap, and yesterday i was sitting there trying to wrap up a friends present, mostly because he specifically stated "i hate gift wrap, what a waste.." (yea, so that means i double wrapped each gift, then wrapped the two double wrapped gifts together..muhahahah!), and me being my OCD-anal retentive-perfectionist self, it took me two hours to wrap a fuckin book and a saki box set. i went through the entire roll of wrapping paper for a 5''x5'' box, and a book. now in my defense, the book took me no time at all, i mean c'mon how retarded can you be if you can't wrap a perfectly rectangular, relatively flat book, but the box? OH MY GOD THE BOX! i mean i looked like i had a one man party with all the little peices of metallic swirly wrapping paper sitting around me all ripped up and torn up and just tossed around. and just when you think you got it, just when you think "hey! i think i'm done"..some corner part puffs up, or some part of the triangle flappy thing you fold up onto the box will have an unexplained poof, and you have to start ALL over. now i'm sure sane people kind of go "fuck it", but me, nooooooo, i redo the whole thing until it looks like it came straight outta santa's workshop. narf. the things i do to adequately piss my friends off, i swear!

oh and speaking about giftwrap and pressies: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BARBS! even though i'm sure she has no idea this exists, just thought i'd throw that out there to clear my own conscience because, for shame on me, i can't send e-cards from work, and i don't get home till 8pm...so i guess this'll do till then.