It's quite possible that I work with the world's biggest Beatles fan of all time. She knows everything there is to know about their recordings, personal lives and a boatload of other trivia that most would never retain. She's given me a knew appreciation for their music. I'm not exaggerating on the biggest fan thing, either. Her license plate reads ABBEY RD. Thanks to her, A Day in the Life is officially my shit.
Guilty Pleasure #328: Overhearing sex or arguments from my neighbors downstairs. Lately, it's either one of the two every other day. Sometimes one directly follows the other on the same day. No lie. It's kinda like catching a double feature at the matinee without having to pay. Mighty entertaining when there's nothing on TV. Don't judge.
I don't know why, but now that every minute of the day is accounted for, more things seem to be adding themselves to my To-do list. The endless running is taking a toll. The clothes I bought to fit because I lost weight are now loose on me. I barely have time to eat and sleep is something I've heard normal people do for at least 7 hours. Right. Meanwhile, if you cut me- I'll bleed Red Bull.
It occurred to me the other day that a new beginning is on the horizon. I have mourned sufficiently even though there will never be another Logan. Bottomline: I'm ready for a new fish. It would be really cool if I could find that bowl above. Like, really. Cool.
Just as I was considering a nice little spa vacation in Arizona, it's looking like Lake Tahoe instead. I'm not going anywhere that Jim Crow laws are being installed only it happens to be Anti-Latino now instead of Anti-Black. At the same time, being harassed and arrested for being a possible 'suspect' is as close to home as it gets in my native New York. Call it what it is. Racial Profiling. Gotta love it. Secure the borders and break out the apple pie.
So here's what I've learned from the side hustle in a few short weeks: The women with the biggest feet try on the ugliest shoes and refuse to put them back. I mean, they will leave a plethora of size 11 boxes strewn all over the place. I know deep down they're just mad because once they get that big ass shoe on, the whole style done changed and it's not even cute anymore but still...It's taking everything in me to not get a running start and clothesline one of those Sasquatch bitches at least twice a week.
Lately I've been running into people who have very different if not unrealistic ideas on how to get rich quick. Far be it from me to knock down any one's dreams- but most of the time I've found that they are quite delusional. Then they sail off to Never Neverland with your good idea when all you did was simply make a suggestion born of common sense. What part of the game is that? Hustle harder and smarter, People.
Pop Tarts are evil. Especially when slathered with peanut butter at 2 a.m. But I just can't stop myself.
Okaaaay...It's been over a month since I called to cancel my landline. I simply don't need it anymore. Here's the thing: I still have a dial tone and can still make calls. And for some odd reason, the bill is correct. You won't catch me complaining, tho. Nuh-uh. Now I know why Verizon's slogan is "We never stop working for you."
Ladies, if he doesn't look at you like this- at least once in a while, he's just not that into you.
What's funnier than catching someone out there looking at inappropriate video sites with supersized headphones on at work? Let's see, the look on his face perhaps? Maybe the fact that he didn't even pick me up in his peripheral vision until I was two feet away because he was so engorged engrossed in what he was viewing. Or the fact that up until that day, he was a complete and total asshole to me and now he's sweet as pie. He lives in perpetual fear of my mentioning it to someone else...every day. Right place. Right time. And just like that, the universe rights itself. I love my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment