Oh, The Torture

We don't have long here, so let's cut to the chase.  I am working today at my weekend job on a Friday and aside from getting paid, I generally don't feel like a complete person unless I accomplish something aside from my menial job, which today included escorting someone who had been fired to the door.  Yuk. 

Saw people read some great erotica last night, had my hardest session of running yet this morning, even though it wasn't the most rigorous.  I'm in a mood to be handled with kidgloves.  You know, ones that are all sticky and dirty.

What else?  What else?  There may or may not be things I may or may not wish to vent here that would take longer than 5 minutes to go into, and you'll just have to use your imagination as to what could possibly have me feeling Betty Draper levels of ennui, particularly when you consider my lack of such a great wardrobe.  She drinks like I did.  I didn't think I could take cues on how to cope from her as I chunk my way through Mad Men, but things are looking up as she just took up horseback riding with a fellow that wants to (sic) bed her.  Things are looking up for us, huh Birdy?  

Well, there it was, all the time we have together today.  My children aren't going to pick themselves up from school and today I am well glad of that.  Things move fast, yo.  


Lisa said...

Kid gloves will never mean the same thing to me that it once did.

Randal Graves said...

What about those of us who don't have a bedpost, I felt so left out until I saw half my blog in the label. I knew there was a reason beyond the inevitable mad maxing of the planet to keep jars of yellow dye #5 around.