Straight No Chaser

Kissy Noises Coming from the Next Cube Over

...except they are actually the sound of my neighbor chewing LOUDLY on a muffin. and in case you haven't been paying attention, i just LOVE irritating mouth noises. this, of course, would be the same coworker i described earlier, who makes a habit of innocuously irking the living shit out of me, and then gets this wounded look when i suggest (however politely) that he give me a few minutes to finish whatever i'm doing before we return to intense bonding mode. if somebody doesn't stop me, i'm going to kill him before this internship is over.

thanks for the stories, guys. as meg pointed out, the phrase "quick-and-dirty, though intended simply to mean raw, was liable to send your minds right into the gutter, and in many cases did just that. i got a lot of nice smut and a minimum of actual romance. fortunately, that was exactly what i secretly wanted.

so, like i said, miserable weekend. after all the guests left last night i immediately changed back into my regular clothes, cried a little and tried unsuccessfully to fall asleep early. my summer sleep schedule, as it turns out, is even worse than my school-year one, which really is incredible. i was awakened twice, once for each leg of a miserable two-part phone call from louisiana.

countdown is currently at nine days, but i'm starting to worry about what's actually going to happen on this trip. we haven't fought in ages, not since before coming home for the summer, and he's blithely happy as always, but somehow he always hurts my feelings the most when he's trying the hardest not to. and he did try last night, or that was his verbalized intent, but he missed the mark a lot, plus i guess i was just generally inconsolable from the start. then he promised to keep his phone near so we could finish talking this morning while i drove to work, and i tried and he hadn't. which was fine because i felt bad about potentially waking him up at seven (louisiana time), but he promised and he really owed me one. blah blah blah teen angst, except i'm not a teen anymore so it's more like original recipe immaturity. GROWLF.

i'm bored and tired and hungry and cold, acutely aware of how knobby my legs look in this unattractive skirt and dissatisfied with everything i've written and done today. i wanted to crank out the next great american novel, show it to grim and bask in his approval while i waited to read whatever he did with my prompt. instead i wound up with two characters i hate and a plot that is really just a patchwork quilt of everything else i've ever written, and i cannot get the last section right no matter how hard i beat it with my chair. sometimes i hate writing. and this office.

also i meant to enter this month's "muse's alley," only i procrastinated all week and now it's just not going to happen. too bad nobody will take my contest suggestion: "ramble on for several pages about nothing. use as many adverbs as possible, and make gratuitous use of the word 'splay.'"