- I (Song of the Day: Carlene Carter-) Fell in Love. Dramatic pause. With Josie Maran's PERFECT little breastesses. Nope, it's not just smit. THIS one's for real. Yes, I realize that I've said this before.
- I watched porn with the geophysicist and, yes, she blew me whilst we watched Katie Gold (love me some Katie Gold; oh those nipples and aureolae!) suck off some lucky chode. If Only said professional (who can apparently sign my still to be acquired passport; always thinking, me) what I'm spending time with were but a premium, because she's extremely pliable. And insatiable to boot. Not to mention experimental to the nth power.
- I developed a moderate man Crush on Utah Jazz forward Paul Millsap (sadly, I was too late on the adding him in any of my pools when Carlos Boozer got injured tip) and was pleased to discover that he'll be participating in the Rookie/Sophomore tilt at this month's NBA All Star festivities in fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada. He gets my pre-vote for game MVP. Also happy that my new fave player, Phoenix Suns' forward Shawn Marion, who attended UNLV (if you've never visited, you're missing out), will be playing in the big game.
- I got into a car accident. Nope, I wasn't driving, not even my (factory recalled due to fuel emission issues, must make service appointment) car. Forced into going off-site this past Thursday for a team-building (read: complete waste of fucking time; 3 folks competing to out-beta each other by attempting to be alpha, everybody else, including me, pretty much keeping themselves to themselves) exercise the day of a blizzard (my very first winter driving other than that of 1989/90), I was asked to drive myself and 3 other folks. I declined as 2 of said folks were from out of town and had their cab fares expensed. Add it all up and it spells DUH!, I ain't driving.
So, we're in the taxi and this fucking guy takes a corner that I've skidded on in icy conditions at maybe 10 km/h at around 60. Naturally, he loses control, and we go careening straight towards a rather large concrete embankment that divides the local LRT line from traffic. The whole time, I'm thinking (because that's just how I roll) ''damn, I'm glad I'm not driving." Fortuitously, our intrepid guide (love me some sarcasm, expect to see more of it) managed to steer out of the skid and drive up onto a concrete median instead. Good Times. My shoulder's still bothering me, fucking seat belts!
Anyhoo, we arrive Alive, and it's 3 hours of blah blah blah and wonk wonk wonk. And I have to stand up and introduce myself, which I fucking HATE. And we're all asked to state what superpower we'd choose if we could have any of them. Now, since I've been using this one online, rather than merely ask a woman what her fave color happens to be; I had an answer ready. Yeah, I fucking CARE what the best, work related-type answer might be. I'd totally choose the ability to cloud women's minds (a la The Shadow; good fucking movie, by the way). For obvious reasons. No coffee. The food platters sucked. No shapely young adorables to charm. Waste of an afternoon. Unthrilled.
- I finally watched Keys to the V.I.P. on the Comedy Network. Will peruse it again. Willing to learn something about Pickup from anyone/anything I can. Why wouldn't I? Why wouldn't you?
- I began my new life as a soulless corporate drone. Working for a salary rather than hourly wages fucking sucks. Which is what I like to laughingly refer to as applying my vocabulary. I've definitely noticed a barrier between regular folk (amongst whom I still count myself) and those who are corporate. Nope, I'll never get used to being a suit. Thankfully. I was pleasantly surprised when a shapely young (I'm guessing 20ish) adorable-type cashier initiated both convo and kino with me on Tuesday afternoon whilst we both found ourselves outside smoking during a windstorm. Jessica. Cute. A little offbeat. Definitely fuckable. Didn't follow up as I'm not sure if corporate folk are permitted to start picking off staff. Note to self: find out the guidelines (NOTHING'S written in stone for the new me) with regard to cutting a swath through the cashier pool at the store. Spoke to her again the next day. Will see what develops. If nothing, that's Cool, too. I've already made her smile and laugh by telling her of my exploits inventorying makeup and such the previous day. As you can tell though, my storytelling skills need some work.
- I learned from a new acquaintance that the womenfolks (okay, damn near ALL folks, but who's counting?) tend to misread me as this big scary, unapproachable guy. Until they actually speak with me. However, I need to work on encouraging them to do so. I kinda love not really knowing exactly what I'm capable of.
- I rocked both a magenta shirt and my version of a power tye (one with Yogi, Scooby and Fred), although not on the same day. One baby step on the peacocking front. And yes, naturally, I got some positive responses to my Scooby Doo tye. Again, duh. There's just something so right about being all GQ cover shoot, clothes-wise, and then throwing in the personal touch of an offbeat tye. Well, that, and it wasn't wrinkled.
- I attended a manager's meeting in which I, AGAIN, was forced to stand up and introduce myself. And a collective gasp arose when I informed the masses that I'd been at the same location (as menial labor, read: paid to work out) since 1991, since a) I look so youngish and 2) most of the other folks (the guy what's training me is a decade younger than me) actually ARE so young.
- I went from having a department supervisor (Asian chick, great ass, fuckable face; talks with a lisp...may neg her about how she spits when she talks and call her Sylvester the Cat) whose product orders are in my hands (LOVING the power) that everyone describes as kind of a bitch pull a boxcutter on me (well, okay, she didn't, like, stick it under my throat or anything, but still...this is what I like to refer to as dramatic effect) in the morning to having her rapping with me and being all friendly in the afternoon whilst I was doing some work in her department. All by being the new, uber-me. Song of the Day (Part II): The Smiths- This Charming Man. I also managed to use the ''it's all animal magnetism'' routine on a chick I've no interest (unless she has hot friends, of course, networking fucking ROCKS!) in whatsoever (practice, practice, everywhere practice) when she accidentally sent a bottle rolling towards me. Roughly 20 feet.
- I had 2 other women ask me for my e-mail address. What can I say, I type real goodly. Flowering what do you call it? Oh yeah, words. Yes, I still need to work on transitioning my tight online game into the real world, wherefore I sometimes find myself at a loss for words. And the occasional difficulty in opening.
But knowing one's sticking points is the first step towards solving them, n'est pas?
- I effectively (even though I was crying a little on the inside, I managed to be congruent) negged the HB IR chick I now kinda sorta share an office with. For some reason, she's been all stuck up towards me right from 21 Jump Street. Sorry, Charlie, I've spent way too much time in the past disrespecting my ownself; I'm SO not gonna let some fucking skirt do it to me now. She made a remark about my beloved Scooby Doo tye. I replied that anyone who had a picture of herself with her brother on her desk was the last person that ought to be making fun of anybody and she should maybe just shush. Yes, a little more cocky than funny (another sticking point), but I did smile when I said it. I was informed that it's her fiance (next step: how long have you and Mr. Wonderful been together? cheat on him yet? want to? but one crisis at a time), which I suspected; this guy must have WICKED Game, because he looks like a total chode and she has a TIGHT little frame. Great rack, too. More on that later. I should've asked, when she asked why'd she be holding hands with her brother, just why she was holding hands with her brother. Best I could come up with was that for all I knew, she was from Newfoundland, wherefore the dating pool is kinda small. This got a laugh at her expense from the room.
She went into the whole ''how can you talk to me like that?'' routine and asked if I even knew her name. It's Katherine. Another fucking K! I informed her that because of this she was trouble (when my new co-worker backed me on this, he made a friend for life) and we could never be friends, called her princess, and said that I would, however, be friends with the discount (always make friends with the cockblock) in the room. At this point, she began brandishing a pair of scissors and I was told by the other 2 folks in the room that danger lay ahead. Naturally, I replied that she'd be all right as long as she didn't run with said scissors. At this point, she stormed out of the office in a huff. Naturally, I said ''yeah, you'd BETTER leave." I was reminded by my coworker that we're guests in her space and then she returned to the room and told me the same thing. To both folks, I replied that that was, in fact, what made it funny. And yes, I've referred to her as secretary. I'll stick my tongue UP an HB's shapely little ass, but no longer will I kiss it. Well, okay, maybe under more Naked circumstances, but no more supplicating. If an HB wants to act like a brat, she'll be treated like one. Yes, I'll also find a way to work the phrase '' your BF may put up with that, but he obviously doesn't spank you enough. I won't and I will,'' into casual conversation. Without incurring any misconduct bullshit-type charges. Not used to dealing with HB coworkers after all that time spent laboring with the dregs (yes, myself included) of humanity. Not really sure of all the rules but aware that there are some and fully committed to breaking them. Now I've established personal authority and push with her. Next week, I'll mix in some pull (for those of you familiar with The Art of Approaching). I will fuck her. All women cheat. Yes, YOUR GF, too. Accept it. I have. And you fucking KNOW that she has.
Addendum: At said manager's meeting, I was seated beside Katherine's friend. So, she leans across the conference table to speak to said friend, giving me a quite jerkworthy view of her impressive cleavage. Oh, I 'm sure she had NO idea what she was doing. They never do, after all. And don't even get me started on the way she licked the icing off her cupcake (they served desserts, all of which seemed to end up placed in front of me for some reason; nope, didn't partake, watching my girlish figure, at said meeting) when I just happened to be looking. Okay, I find her attractive, but I'll never let HER know that. A hard lesson, but an invaluable one.
All right, I'm out. Yeah, I know, Saturday night. I'm supposed to be out and about, blah blah blah. I'll put it like this: basketball on all night (I'm only listening to the Suns/Jazz game whilst typing this little diatribe). Oh yeah, and the geophysicist has called and offered to deliver a piping hot order of (happiness is a warm) pussy to Stately Deranged Manor in a couple of hours. Ish. So I'm good. Things are back to where they belong. Once one has a fallback girl, things just, you know, fall into place. Yes, I'll continue working on building that skill set, so's I can bang me some premiums. No complacency here. Enjoy your weekend, y'all. Rumor has it that there's some sort of sporting contest going on tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps I'll check it out. Go Bears!