That’s What You Get

Hello friends. Remember me? That literate voice inside your head as you read to remind you that you indeed did go to college and are able to read? Hi.

You probably want an apology. Something like, “I am so sorry for not blogging for months.” Too bad ’cause you’re not going to get it. However, you will get this new post from me. Oh yes, me…the aspiring writer. If you’re wondering where I have been the past few (read: six) months, here’s my list:

  • My foyfriend (patent pending) and I decided to commit (to each other) which spawned some sort of nester from my inner self. Don’t hate, she’s pretty french-toastin’ cool. 
  • My company hired a new VP of Sales and Marketing. I am not exponentially more busy than I was before. Then I was just “busy” but not I am “omg why is my hair so frizzy?! can i get more caffeine over here?? – busy.”
  • I went to Europe. ‘Nuff said. 

So what inspired this post? Well, eavesdropping and lots of wine….obviously. I am traveling for work tonight – yup just the one night – and the W Hotel I am staying charges $15 a day for internet – which btw is total crap – so I went to the one place I knew it was free: the bar.

I also knew they had food + wine, two of my favorite things EVER. Let me start by saying, as a curvy woman, there are boobs everywhere here. I didn’t know that Las Vegas cocktail waitresses spanned outside of the state. I was wrong.

Back to my inspiration: eavesdropping. While waiting for my two part dinner of truffle fries and lamb sliders, I have been catching up on my (free) e-mail. Prior to my updated relationship status, which was 26-years of “umm…single”/”umm…kind of seeing someone?”, I loooooooved my some socialization. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a leper now or anything, but I do enjoy solo bottles of wine mixed with hours of Law & Order SVU and/or NCIS because have you seen Mark Harmon? Um, have my babies much please? My newly found status and solo travel has left me very low-key, chill and buzzed on red wine (one glass.)

However, I was distracted by a slew of “fucks” carrying over from across the bar. Sorry Mom, since I’m not the one saying it, I feel it’s ok to use it in writing. Here’s how it went:

Girl with large (fake) boobs: ANYWAYS, it’s like my purse was $600, my wallet another $400..

My inner voice: Ohhhh she’s drinking champagne…I love champagne. Why is she yelling?

Girl with large (fake) boobs: and so I’m like “FUCK ALL MY SHITS GONE.

My inner voice: Whoa, earmuffs. Also, send that champ my way, would ya?

Girl with large (fake) boobs: my CREDIT CARDS AND MY SOCIAL SECURITY CARD.

My inner voice: In all fairness, they tell you not to carry your social security card with you…that’s your own fault.

To follow, I then looked at her surrounding company and I wonder, does Mr. Salt and Pepper Hair really think that MacFake Boob is going to put out?

Read my next post to find out more.

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