ain't nothin' but mammals: April 2003 Archives

it reads well, the list:

for you / bittersweet me / jumper / right now / i love my computer / lawyers guns & money / all you zombies / time stand still / southern cross / home by the sea / layla / woman from tokyo / if i had a rocket launcher / badge / standing outside a broken phone booth with money in my pocket / at the hundredth meridian

it would almost be helping me focus, if i weren't such an unfocused individual in general & particularly restless & i'm in this pair of old favorite shorts & the cutest little tshirt as a result of a recent expedition to the garage for clothes that have been out there some two years & damn. (& yes, i did shave my legs. for me.) basically, being that i'm the only one i ever, um, ... & what with me looking so cute & all & ... what i mean to say is i need to quit copping feels from my ownself & get to work. not as easy as it sounds.

* * *
& last night i installed a PHP dealythingy that goes to the department of homeland security every four hours & checks the alert level in the sidebar. if that sucker goes red you can bet i'm going to stop dillydallying & get me some real live end-of-the-world sex. & there will be someone else involved. oh you betcha.

the phone guy is gone now, thank goodness, & i'm starting to recover from the incident. i was just sitting here, working, innocently even, when he comes over and starts poking at my phone, beepity beepity boop on the little buttons. hey, i'm a reasonable girl, i let this pass. then, all sudden-like, he tells me i have to record a message. yes! he tells me this some three keybeeps from the actual time i'll have to actually leave the actual message. the bastard.

it's a sordid tale ...

as we join the internal debate team, they're squaring off on the issue of morning beering. team no stepped up to the podium and delivered a stirring oratory on the virtues of ... i'm not quite sure, my attention went wandering off to find its happy place, where it then proceeded to get laid in quite a spectacular fashion.

the rebuttal from one of the softest spoken members of the yes team was brilliant. it began with several concise examples of frantic stress levels in the overworking department, made a number of valid points in favor of a little self-indulgence from a mental health standpoint, and concluded that it sure would be nice to get laid, but failing that, there's beer.

the captain of the no team, who apparently couldn't get laid in a whorehouse with a suitcase full of unmarked bills, stepped up and started in with the self-righteous whining. as the nasally voice droned on, the judging committee conferred briefly and came to a unanimous decision to sneak out for a cold one, and tiptoed out the side door, giggling. you can bet this reporter wasn't far behind, but unfortunately the rest of the story is strictly off the record. the only thing i can tell you is that no one got laid.

for my next story, i think i'll do an investigative piece - 'is anybody really getting laid?'