It felt like Christmas today. Nope, it wasn't the weather. Every year, there's one day where you'd actually feel like you could converse with a homeless or have sex with your ex wife. It's a day of forgiveness and a newfound joy, let alone what happens later. I didn't get any shit done at work but it was a good day.
Why? Cos finally Mr Craigenstein had come back to life. Like a cavemane frozen in a time capsule for years, my future husband finally got his groove back. It felt good cos I was beginning to miss the old Craig he used to be. Our convo was brief but it was awesome to see him being able to spell words like 'hahaha' or 'lol'. So, it felt good. Maybe it's cos it's our three months being official online boyfriends or maybe it's cos the bad spirit had chucked a white flag in his body, it was all good.
I had a moment of clarity and calmness and I kinda freaked out when I actually looked at all the workload I have done. Never in my life have I undertaken that much shit in three days. I kinda got a lot of shit done and I actually pwned the art of drawing a work plan. So, despite the non-productive day at work, I felt like a guy who's smoking on his ciggie after a good hot fuck. Yes, I have succeeded. I have exceeded and reached climax with one good hot fuck. My work was one good hot fuck. God bless orgasm. And of course, cleaning the cum stained bedsheet comes later.. haha
I knew good things were never meant to last since tomorrow I'd be doing something I really hate doing at work. Known as the easiest task but trust me, if you were me, you would've felt the same. I find it as the hardest thing to do. Not to mention the non native English speakers here in Burma, one activity known to mankind where the best English speaking people forgot to put 'verbs' in their sentences; the activity where the word 'group' doesn't really have a good product (I mean, who the hell likes to listen when everyone talks at once); a place where native accents spark challenges at you like a first time fuck. Yes, minute taking.... the art of unbelievable difficulty-management. It's harder than babysitting ten Cambodian babies; it's more awkward than being stuck in a sex hammock while you're fisted; it's more agonizing than watching Pauline Hanson do a stripshow. It's just fucked up. I hate minute taking. If there was one thing I hate about work, it's that. And guess what! I got two 'two hours' meeting in one day. Oh lord, jesus loves me.
So, today, I hung out with DoubleA and his wife. Absent for three weeks for the lack of their car since they were busy pimping their ride. Now, their car looks like one shiny billiard ball. A huge metallic mahogany with interior seat that resembles something of the fast and the furious movie and a midget steering wheel. SERIOUSLY, midget steering wheels are the worst 'new black' since skinny jeans. Why on earth do people like it? So, we ate like pigs at coffee circle. I couldn't care less about my weight watching. I admit it's a long on-going process but everyone knows I ain't gonna stop until I get myself a flatter belly. It's not like I'm major obese but I hate to see this cute apple bottom below my manboobs. It's just gross. It looks even funnier now since I shaved it last few weeks ago for my radiation 'fat melting' therapy. It's worse that I had to shave my stomach while having a hangover. It looks like Africa from Google satellite camera. A patch of grass here and there on a deserty surface, only substituted by my smooth belly texture with a bit of hair here and there.
It was a good day and I know I got shit loads to do at work. Me and my big mouth wanted that position as an assistant analyst but I've been doubly penetrated in my ass with workloads bigger than Peter North's schlong.
Call me bipolar but happy days make me more productive and creative at writing blogs. Oh, I love life no matter how fucked up it is. Life is like a cable TV. You got all types of channels and reruns that make you go 'Oh been there done that' but at the same time you end up swishing channel here and there and before you know it, new shit gets old and season reruns are a last resort object of procrastination. Yet, we enjoy it. I guess that's the beauty, eh?
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