If this fucking lady hits me with her flowers one more time, OR if her ridiculous phone rings again, I’m going to feed her that fucking boquet. I am not kidding.
Love to all, even you.
Archive for April, 2008My train time is double booked. I need to update my company’s website, and start wireframing a side project I’m doing with my Art Director pal. To accomplish this, I need the help of a certain combination of songs. Last week, I found a short mix that works really well.
With these on a loop, I can bear down like you wouldn’t believe.Love to all. Even you, the spring-footed potato chip muncher.
Waiting for the UV, baby. Miss you like nobody’s business. Love to all. Even you, the jackass who called the 15-second rule on Maggie when the line was 20 people deep, and the clock was at less-than-20. Or at least, me being on speed annoys other people enough to kill me which is not what they mean by “speed kills.” Starting tomorrow, I’m cutting my Vyvanse dosage by half, to see if I can - hopefully - keep the positive aspects of the stuff while getting rid of the… what’s the medical term… “jackassish dickheaded fuck-you-alls.” Yeah, the side effects aren’t pleasant for others. Love to all. Even you, the lady who wants to keep a secret. Dudes. In about 20 minutes, my net value dropped by $29,000. It had nothing to do with the stock market. This is the life of an entrepreneur. In an attempt to work off some of my “what the fuck just happened?” anxiety, I brought a huge suitcase to my old office on Astor Place, packed it full of 75 pounds of paper products that needed to go to the new place, and then dragged the thing 40 blocks uptown. I thought it would make me feel better. It didn’t. I’ve been doing accounting work ever since. I’m on the train now. What I need is sleep. And dinner. The thing is: everything is fine (insert world-imploding sound here). We’ve got a lot of new clients, are meeting some really interesting candidates, and my outlook on everything, in spite of some sudden and unexpected changes with my staff, is pretty positive. What I need is sleep. And dinner. Love to all. Even you, you dude sitting in a way that HAS to making the woman across from him uncomfortable. Tonight was one of those nights where I felt radically unhelped. Whatever. Tomorrow is a new day. Life is a fucking rocket. Love to all. Even you, the person who confuses “being asked for an opinion” with “getting in the middle.” He sauntered, greasily. He glared, with paunch. The guy had black hair, black pants, a black overcoat, and black shoes. His overcoat was open, revealing a black t-shirt that had several skulls staring out from behind black hoods. He was wearing a large silver necklace. It was, of course, an encircled pentagram. He was in BJs Wholesale Club. Shopping. Later, he would rain down evil upon Westchester, New York. But for the moment, it was time to get in on some fabulous deals on bulk nachos. Plus black socks by the dozen. Love to all. Even you, dark stalker of the “Nuts and Snacks” aisle.
Love to all. Even you, you squarejawed classist. I just moved into a shiny new office on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. It has two huge, beautiful windows. The place itself isn’t that big, but it’s got 4 separate working spaces… so there’s room for a hyperactive serial entrepreneur to change thinking locations… which is really important to me. And it’s my name on the lease, this time. It’s been a very, very busy three days. I’m exhausted. Of all the exciting things… the new furniture, the printer, the place itself… there’s one thing I installed which makes me feel all awash in low-key glee: the door chime. It’s one of those two-magnet-sensor jobs that sends a signal to a speaker when the magnets get too far apart. Initially, the thing BLASTED that 8-note Westminster chime, but by moving some jumpers and adding a little duct tape, we’ve got a gentle “boop!” whenever anyone comes in or leaves. Bliss. Love to all. Even you, the guy who’s deciding whether to offer to settle for a quarter-million dollars. We’re low-tech right now, so hit refresh for the current pic.
Love to all. Even you, heater. |
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