Desperate attempt at making lemonade
Some thoughts that I had at work tonight:
I found myself saying two phrases to coworkers tonight that many people wouldn't think of as being a professional conversation. In no particular order...
"Just remember, the girls can be licking boobs - theirs or others, but no vaginas bigger than a third of the screen."
and
"If a dildo is outside of text-safe, will we get customer complaints?" (to which, after a brief pause, my coworker responded, "That sounded like an X-rated version of the 'tree falls in the forest' question.")
Many, many poorly-produced fashion shows watched tonight. It seemed the "new black" this season is lime green and bright pink sharing the same square yardage in the outfits. My god, this means Irish dance dresses are going to be in style. Be afraid, be very afraid.
And what is it with fashion purses??? Seems like ladies everywhere fall over purses that cost more than a small car, just because of the name that appears on an itsy-bitsy section of the damn thing. And they're not usually functional! At least, not for as much shit as the average woman carries around on a daily basis. Methinks designers like Louis Vuitton should be more honest and call their "works of art" a Tampon Holder. A. Like one. Not plural.
I'm probably a freak, but when I look for a new purse, the LAST thing I look for is who made it. My list of requirements for purchasing a purse are as follows:
- Purse MUST be able to withstand the equivalent of two Rottweilers playing tug-o-war with it over an M1A1 flamethrower in a Category 5 hurricane.
- Purse MUST be able to conceal 5 VHS tapes, a hardback copy of War and Peace, an economy-sized package of tampons, hairbrush and full-length mirror. Ability to conceal an umbrella with a talking parrot head a plus.
- Purse MUST clash with absolutely every pair of shoes I own.
- Purse MUST have ability to growl at strangers who try and steal it. Purse must also immediately bring a tampon to the surface of its innards in the event that someone of the male species tries to look through it.
Me? Fashion-conscious? Damn proud that I'm not, thanks.
I found myself saying two phrases to coworkers tonight that many people wouldn't think of as being a professional conversation. In no particular order...
"Just remember, the girls can be licking boobs - theirs or others, but no vaginas bigger than a third of the screen."
and
"If a dildo is outside of text-safe, will we get customer complaints?" (to which, after a brief pause, my coworker responded, "That sounded like an X-rated version of the 'tree falls in the forest' question.")
Many, many poorly-produced fashion shows watched tonight. It seemed the "new black" this season is lime green and bright pink sharing the same square yardage in the outfits. My god, this means Irish dance dresses are going to be in style. Be afraid, be very afraid.
And what is it with fashion purses??? Seems like ladies everywhere fall over purses that cost more than a small car, just because of the name that appears on an itsy-bitsy section of the damn thing. And they're not usually functional! At least, not for as much shit as the average woman carries around on a daily basis. Methinks designers like Louis Vuitton should be more honest and call their "works of art" a Tampon Holder. A. Like one. Not plural.
I'm probably a freak, but when I look for a new purse, the LAST thing I look for is who made it. My list of requirements for purchasing a purse are as follows:
- Purse MUST be able to withstand the equivalent of two Rottweilers playing tug-o-war with it over an M1A1 flamethrower in a Category 5 hurricane.
- Purse MUST be able to conceal 5 VHS tapes, a hardback copy of War and Peace, an economy-sized package of tampons, hairbrush and full-length mirror. Ability to conceal an umbrella with a talking parrot head a plus.
- Purse MUST clash with absolutely every pair of shoes I own.
- Purse MUST have ability to growl at strangers who try and steal it. Purse must also immediately bring a tampon to the surface of its innards in the event that someone of the male species tries to look through it.
Me? Fashion-conscious? Damn proud that I'm not, thanks.