Because I am a true, Southern lady I write thank you notes for all gifts received. Please see the letter I crafted to my employer for the kick ass paperweight I received this morning. Day = Made. Duh.
Dear Steal Your Soul, Inc.
Thank you so, so much for the paperweight you gave me this morning. I have never owned a paperweight before as I am not normally in a very windy office and it’s not 1964, so this will really come in handy when the recycled air that provides the background noise to my life really cranks it up a notch. I would be remiss to not also thank for you not giving me a raise since November 2007 and cutting my pay 6% last year whilst doubling my work load! While you may call my paperweight a “token of appreciation” I call it a symbol of all of the hard work that’s gone unrecognized and unpaid for! To be honest, the only person in this entire company who appreciated your paperweight was Tsaur who (literally) uttered the words, “sweet!” upon opening his new lovie. Even though I wish I could keep the paperweight, its new home is in my trashcan.
Hi. Can I be perfectly candid with you for a hot minute? You guys positively (without having feline AIDS) find the CD by searching the weirdest shit on the internets. It seriously creeps me out, but love you/mean it anyway!
Some of you found us by searching “Harrisonburg smells like dog food.” And you’re damn straight it does. The home of my alma mater (GO DUKE DOGS!) smells like dog food like woah. It’s gross. Think about that smell the next time you bite into some juicy chicken, ‘cause that’s why. Chicken farms, y’all. Chicken. Farms.
Small children and very pregnant women scare me, thus I am confused and scared as to why “children playing cricket” brought you to Café Darkness, but while you’re here, sit down and enjoy yourself!
A few you “want a divorce” and that makes me have a sad for you. JK. I don’t care. Get a divorce and go live your life.
I’m not sure who “Peaches the cat” is but that’s one pussy I’d like to meet! MEOW! RAR!
Cheers to whoever actually typed the words “dance floor ooooooooooh” into Google and hit “enter”. Call me! Let’s dance!
You guys are bananas. Now get me another drink. I’m still sober and it’s Thirsty Thursday and I’ve been sober since last night.
RICHMOND, VA-A dinner ended in disaster on Saturday evening when a dispute over where to eat caused a deep division amongst a group of friends. Although they agreed to dine around the Main and Robinson corridor, a consensus as to which particular restaurant could not be agreed upon. On the one side there were those who wanted to eat at FW Sullivan’s for their large outdoor patio seating and excellent people watching. The other group believed it was “too soon” to eat within such close proximity to The White Dog, Richmond’s beloved Fan restaurant that recently closed its doors after being open for ten years. Jeff Smith, the most outspoken critic of eating so close to The White Dog, asked why they couldn’t go someplace, “less hallowed” such as Sticky Rice or DeLux. Lauren Kline, a proponent of eating at FW Sullivan’s, told reporters that not wanting to eat at FW Sullivan’s simply because it’s located directly across the street from The White Dog made about as much sense as caring if an Islamic Community Center was constructed in an abandoned Burlington Coat Factory two blocks away from Ground Zero. “Plus also” she stated, “I’m in the mood for crab legs.”
T Saur and his on again, off again, on again, and off once again girlfriend are donezo for the time being. He’s now resorted to trolling match.com and randomly emailing ladies he thinks he’s interested in. Note: He’s not actually on match.com; he just scrolls through and looks at pictures and emails them to see if they would be interested in meeting. Ew. Much like online dating, he is gross.
Speaking of dating, Mom is concerned that I’m dating, and I quote here, “zero people.” She says she doesn’t “get it” and why can’t someone introduce me to someone?! I told her to mind her own gd business because it’s of no concern to her and I’m tired of meeting crazy people who want to wear my skin as a suit. I’d much prefer to go out and get MC Hammered with my friends and not worry about it. Shit! Leave me alone!
While we’re discussing crazy people, I really need to stop answering numbers I don’t recognize. Just a mere thirty minutes ago my phone rang and I made the mistake of answering. Much to my delight and surprise it was very inebriated person of the male variety inviting me to meet him at Bojangles. As hard as it was to decline the invitation to eat biscuits and gravy on Nine Mile Road at nine thirty AM on a Tuesday, I had to work, so…..no.
It’s always nice to see my ex husband and be reminded why I’m so much happier without him. Last night’s visit was no exception. Straight away I noticed what can only be described as a watch one would wear whilst playing bocce ball in Boca Raton. I freaked out and asked him if he was wearing that old man watch ironically? He said no, it was badass and expensive (duh!) and he loved it which made me laugh hard. Then he told me he was considering moving to downtown Short Pump at which point I was laughing so much tears were streaming down my face. “Oh my god I’m so glad we’re not together anymore! You’re such a dork! Ha!” Wow. What the fuck was I thinking? Good Lord.
In case y’all didn’t notice, I have opinions on things most people don’t care about like how Bed and Breakfasts and old guys wearing bow ties are creepy. Last week over lots some of vino, Barista and I narrowed down the top five things I judge hard. Behold!
1-Republicans-This is pretty self explanatory, but I honestly don’t *get* how anyone is a Republican. For serious. Ew. They’re so judgy and racist and caring about my life when I don’t care about their life. I would respect them more if they just admitted they don’t like brown people. Or gay people. Or anyone who isn’t exactly like them. Gross. I’m going to go puke now.
2-Suburbs-I think suburbs are weird. I think people who enjoy living suburbs are even weirder. Would I like my own washing machine? Word to your mother. Would I want to live in a former cow pasture with no trees and bunch of other people just like me? No thanks.
3-SUVs-I’m sensing a theme here. Like Republicans and suburbs, SUVs are abhorrent and against my sensibilities as someone who is trying to not murder the environment. How in the world did people get around before these vehicles existed?! I mean, it’s totally necessary to drive a Suburban to the grocery store by yourself whilst you chat on your cell phone and almost run me over. Shopping for a family is hard!
4-Labels-I think it’s nasty when people are so excited about their things and who made their things they feel the need to broadcast it to the public. My eyes didn’t ask to see you have Chanel sunglasses or that you dropped a ton of cheddar on your purse you won’t use after a few months. There are people starving and you are so proud of yourself and your consumerism. You disgust me. Goodbye.
5-Parents-Now before everyone who has pushed a child out of their vag or knocked up a woman up who subsequently pushed a baby out of her vag, I don’t mean all parents. Rumor has it some of you aren’t annoying. Who I’m talking about are the men and women who reproduce and then are incapable of talking about or thinking about anything besides their children. I get it. Kids are rad. (For you, not me. I like naps and free time.) Here’s a PSA to the Breeders of America, not everyone gives a shit about your kid. Please stop torturing your childless coworkers, friends and family about your “crazy” parenting stories. Crazy is boozing until two AM on a Sunday and making it to work on time with no hangover. (Go me!)
Mistakes: We gonna find you, we gonna find you.
For the past several months my job, which I already loathe tremendously, has been even more tedious and excruciating due to the presence of the most loathsome people on the planet. These people are called “auditors” and they are the most vile, despicable excuses for human beings I’ve ever encountered. At first I was semi-pleasant to them. I gave them dead eyes, which is about the most cordial I can be on the daily here at Steal Your Soul, Inc.
Two months and several hundred emails later I now have dreams of punching these people in the face (for serious). And it feels SO good. This morning I needed a drink by 8:02 AM when I read the onslaught of emails sent after I left for the day. I’m telling a coworker in the break room how I now finally *get* how people completely and totally lose their shit at work and just go ballistic (a la Steven Slater my new hero!) when in saunters T Saur, a full thirty minutes, early per the norm. He interjects his words of wisdom and says that perhaps they’re not used to working in a “corporate culture”. “Huh? What? They work for a CORPORATION. THEY’RE AUDITORS. What the fuck. Do you think they’re like Gollum trying to find their precious and all of a sudden they’re in some corporate office unawares of how they got there?” Side note: what’s up with me and Lord of the Rings references recently? Christ, it’s like I hot tub timed machine back to 2003. If that’s the case, “No, I will not marry you!” Booyah!
Anywhoos, after I explained that auditors work in offices just like the rest of us losers he interjects in his non-sequatorial style that he recently purchased some whiskey and he was going to try whiskey sours this weekend. Seriously you guys, I think I’m part of some weird Tuskegee style experiment (except minus the syphilis and racism) to see how long a person can be surrounded by the crazy and not lose it. Either that or I’m on a Hidden Camera reality show that I bet is huge in Germany and South Korea. Either way, releases the Kraken. I’m donezo.
What’s the haps, RVA? There was a lot going on in our fair city this week. Let’s take a looksie, shall we?
1-Prop 8 was overturned in California, but Richmond decided to up the ante when a local American Family denied a family membership to a lesbian couple. GayRVA reported the couple was told the company uses Virignia’s definition of what constitutes a family which is between a man and a woman. I mean, because, you know, if we let same-sex couples marry, what’s next? People owning monkeys and treating them like children and calling them monkids? Because yes, that is a thing.
2-The seemingly endless summer heat continued this week setting a record for the most number of 100 degree days. In a bold move Ken Cuccinelli made the question, “Is it hot enough out there for you?” illegal, officially making it the one thing he’s done in office that this RVA resident can actually get behind.
3-Speaking of The Cooch, he continued his Reign of Terror when he issued an opinion stating police officers are within their rights to question the immigration status of anyone for any reason. He won in a landslide folks. In. A. Landslide.
4-Suburbanites made their semi-annual trip to the big city for Carytown’s Watermelon Festival. Aside from the Grand Illumination these strange creatures can normally be found in Downtown Short Pump sitting in traffic on a Sunday afternoon. Every Museum District resident knows better than to leave their house lest they be caught in traffic caused by scared and confused SUV drivers. Thankfully the second worst hangover of the summer made that easy for me to follow.
5-It’s been scientifically proven that the dumbest people in Richmond comment on Richmond Times Dispatch articles. It took approximately point two seconds before the brilliant connection was made between a drunk a driver who hit and killed a local nun last weekend and his immigration status. You know, because ethnicity is definitely the leading cause of drinking and driving. Duh.
There you have it, ladies and germs. Now excuse me while I go back to watching mindless reality television in an attempt to forget how crazy most of you are and all of the shots I took yesterday.
It’s a double trouble T Saur update Thursday. Lucky, lucky you!
The on again, off again relationship between T and his lady is once again back off! When he took her back for the second (third?) time, I gave it two weeks, max. Due to the fact that I am not only awesome and smart and sexy, I am also always right. (It’s a blessing and a curse!) Anywhoos, he broke the news to me on Tuesday. I don’t really remember all of the details because I was busy playing Doodle Jump (!) on Billy Mays, but I remember hearing something along the lines of Saturday, dinner, Cha Cha’s, blah blah, couch, Sunday morning. Once I zoned back in he told me he had even gone so far as defriending her on Facespace. I told him kudos on the defriending. It’s a bold move, but an effective one! I took a mental health day yesterday but was informed by vigilant coworkers that he wrote her a Dostoevskyesque email yesterday from his yahoo (ha!) email account. He crafted it for hours. Today another vigilant coworker spied him staring at pictures of the two of them he took when they went to the Chesterfield zoo (wha?). Clearly T is completely and totally insane. I predict they are back together all over again by the weekend only to break up once more. But don’t worry, y’all know I’ll keep you informed!
How does one delicately request for your (male) coworker to start wearing a bra? I think the constant heart ache and diet consisting solely of coffee and Bugles has finally caught up to him. His man boobs are positively pornorific and are grossing me the hell out. He walks to work and when he gets here his gross ass polo shirt is covered in sweat and it makes me want to puke hard. I’m thinking of seeking professional help in permanently removing my olfactory senses.
This poster from college recently resurfaced in the woman's apartment
RICHMOND, VA. Museum District resident TLW was not alarmed in the slightest at the realization she cared about close to nothing earlier today. “I’m not sure what’s going on”, she lackadaisically told reporters earlier today from the comfort of her bed, “but I really just don’t care about much of anything anymore”. When questioned about her attitude toward issues ranging from ordering pizza to being broke until August 15th, she resoundingly did not give a fuck.
Those close to the short-statured blogger verified reports about not giving a fuck and noted a marked increase in the amount of Grateful Dead and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes playing from her iPod at all times. TLW confirmed an uptick in any and all “super chill” music. “Nothing stressy, ya know? I’m just trying to chill the eff out.” Friends and family also noticed a change in her appearance noting that if she’s not careful, people may start to think sells grilled cheese sandwiches at Phish shows for living. “Whatever, dude. It’s not a big deal”, she mumbled in between eating spoonfuls of marshmallow fluff and peanut butter.
At press time TLW was debating between taking a nap or staring out the kitchen window for a few more hours.
If someone could please tell me why only insane guys want to date me, I would repay you with a trillion high fives and Kool-Aid dances. For serious. What the fuck is going on? Ever since I split from the hubbers the only guys I’ve dated in various forms of seriousness are all completely crazy.
Let’s just look at this weekend as it is a perfect example of the weirdos who want themselves a piece of TLW. I was stoked because I thought my stalker got the hint that no, I don’t want to be your girlfriend-pizza, or no pizza! Just as I utter these words at dinner on Friday, Hannibal Lector must have known I was talking about him and texts me to “see what’s up”. Ah! Nothing is “up”. Jesus Christ. I’m so over people asking me “what’s up”. The fucking sky. That’s what up. Shit!
Later in da club I get approached by a fellow and we had the following exchange:
Him: Hey, What’s up? I’m in an open relationship and my girlfriend doesn’t care when I hook up with other people. She actually likes it and sometimes likes to join!
Me: Oh my God. Are you asking me to be in a threesome with you?
Him: Sure. Why not?
Me: Gross. No.
A bit later I ran into a guy who tried to my baby daddy last year. One of the “dates” he asked me on involved taking tequila shots at Cafe Diem at 11 on a school night. Zexy, right? Every time I run into this guy I just *know* he’ll start texting me again. This morning I woke up to an unknown number asking me yet again what was up.
Him: Good morning, TLW. What’s up?
Me: Who is this?
Him: (Fill in name here) from Friday night.
Him: How was the rest of your Friday night?
Him: Want to do something later this week?
So here’s what I’m asking to all the creepy ass weirdos in the RVA. Can y’all just leave me the hell alone? I don’t want to hook up with you. I don’t want to date you. All I want is sit at home and watch bad reality television in my underwear with my dogs and play Words With Friends. I don’t want to hook up, date or do anything with any of you. So please, leave me now and go live your life.