Your Expenses

I slept so bad last night that during the 33 seconds I was actually asleep I dreamt TBU didn’t want to have sex with me. Also, that I was at some sort of cheerleading convention/high school reunion. TBU wasn’t ready for bed and I have this thing where I hate going to bed by myself, basically I’m a child. So I stayed up way late watching True Life: I have Tourette’s, which was the most interesting True Life I’ve yet to see. I guess that’s not saying a whole lot though. Waking up was like coming to after a major surgery. Painful and unsatisfying.

When I started my job in May, I was told to make sure I got a planner because a planner is essential and you will need to keep your schedule straight, so make sure to get a planner asap. So I did. The only problem was that it was May and all the planners and calendars left were for 2008, which doesn’t make sense either. I can see that 2007 is half over and you don’t want to produce and distribute obsolete product, but 2008 is too far away to be buying planners for. At least in my opinion. After three stores I wound up buying a $50 planner/calendar/address book thingy. It was the cheapest one available that 1) allowed me to fill in the dates myself and 2) had room for me to write my schedule in. Which is what the whole point was. I turn in my reimbursement form and get all kinds of guff for the $50 planner. I agree it’s expensive and I would never pay for it if I was just getting a planner for shits and giggles but you said the planner was essential and told me to get one asap. And that’s what I did. You didn’t give me any rules or warn me that it didn’t necessarily have to be functional as long as it was under a certain price. You gotta warn people of this shit, otherwise they’re just gonna get something that can do the job. So then I got this email today entitled “your expenses:”

Regarding your planner, whenever you make a purchase, please ask me or Jake ahead of time how much you can spend. Typically we approve no more then $20 for a calendar/planner. Do you still need the binder I gave you?

Uh, yeah I still need the binder you gave me, it’s completely different. If they were the same thing we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I hate this stuff. <bleh>

I have to go to bed. I am just dillydallying.

The Millionizer lied about it not having meat

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Well, now it just sounds silly

10 minutes ago

Me: Baby, will you get something out of my trunk for me?

TBU: Your trunk outside? At night?

Me: Yeah.

TBU: What is it?

Me: Just something from my trunk.

TBU: What?

Me: Uhh, glitter glue.

TBU: [silence]

Me: I’ll get it.

TBU: Yeah…

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It’s 1995 and I love it

TBU has been taking the laptop to work for some supposed work related shit. I have to sneak in moments before dinner and while he’s passed out on the couch. This leaves no time for posting because before I can post I have to read all of the internet to make sure I’m caught up on the days non-news.

Have you heard the good word? No Doubt is baaack and I just peed my pants. Woot! Goddamn, Gwens solo shit sucked my left nut. Wind it up! No sweetie, I don’t know what you’re trying to do here, but I refuse to partake. No amount of booze and/or mushrooms could make this worth my time. But your hair still looks hot, that’s all that really matters. One time, in the golden age, Sir Chinko ran into Gwen in France on the Champs E’lyse and ran up to her all intrusive like and was like YOU’RE GWEN STEFANI. MY FRIEND THE MILLIONIZER LOVES YOU. And her response was, You’re from America! We concluded that was an insult, as it should be. That night he called me with the most cryptic message. He was in France I was in 12th grade, I had no clue what was going on. Sir Chinko and I also call each other from concerts and force the other person to listen to the noise. That’s love.

You know what’s so lame? When you’re new at work and someone says, Oh you can just go get it from my mailbox. So you go to their mailbox and start looking around and someone else sees you and asks all suspiciously, Can I help you? You say, No, because you’re a rocket scientist and you don’t need help. But the other person comes over anyway and forces you to tell them what you’re looking for and takes over looking and you just stand there like an idiot while they hand you the item all self righteously, like they just saved the company from the awful new employee. I mean fuck, didn’t I just say I didn’t need help? Meddling bitch.

The Millionizer likes to sleep in her makeup so she can wake up looking hot

[tags]Gwen Stefani, No Doubt, work[/tags]

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