Apathetic Workplace

I'm sitting here at work, as I have been all week, restless and bored. My boss is enjoying her lackadaisical week free of grievances, requests, and microwaveable lunches. Mind you, there is barrier between me and the visiting complainants who look at me and see that I'm busily pushing paper, filling out forms, and writing letters to some important person high up on the corporate ladder. This unnoticeable barrier allows the truth to be concealed, which is that without tasks to do, I can now finish my script, read a book for pleasure, and stalk hot celebrities for pictures I will use to drool over at night when I am spending an evening making a sandwich for dinner and watching a DVD of the Kids in the Hall. Well, if that wasn't a run-on sentence, I don't know what is. My skin is behaving like a breeding ground for pain. Whenever I go on a road trip, my skin freaks out and starts to rebel by forming little pockets of pain, reddish in appearance and full of hormonal surprises. Alas, I've come to the conclusion that I need to go back on the pill as my last resort attempt to control my hormones that are causing this little eruption of acne that was brought on by the road trip. It must've been the air in LA that I was ubiquitously exposed to.

Sigh...my appointment is 2 weeks away. They said I'm due for a pap smear. I guess this would be helpful to discover if I have any illnesses lurking around down there. Although, seeing as I'm a born again virgin, the possibility of an outbreak is pretty slim. I shudder at the thought of that cold clamp being inserted inside me, giving me chills down my arms and through my back. But it's okay. I guess it's worth it if that's what it takes to get that magic pill that will wipe my face clean of this annoying connect-the-dot face that I'm currently building. All I need is a marker. I guess that's fair because then, I'll have an activity to occupy myself at work.

Funkdafied

I am in such a perpetual funk. I'm supposed to be hastily packing away but instead, I waste my entire lazy weekend online surfing for NKOTB reunion hints. I'm starving for news and am constantly anticipating an announcement that may never arrive. My birthday's coming up and instead of turning an ominous 31 years old, I've somehow managed to flip the numbers and am actually 30 going on 13. Has my life really been reduced to such a comical fling of a fantasy that I am unaware of when I will wake up and cease to daydream? I listen to me ridicule myself to the point of no return and I find that I haven't the slightest willpower to fight procrastination. My period is annoying me and I refuse to make the effort to gather my belongings for my journey to another living space.

I don't care. It's just a place to sleep for me. I don't plan on getting any new unused furniture that I will only regret buying because I will only end up overdrafting on my debit card and complain about the unreturnable fatboy I wasn't able to afford in the first place. But do I have to meet any type of false standards of what a "cool" room should look like? Would anyone else care if I started collecting NKOTB posters again and plastering them all over my walls as a pseudo-wallpaper? Did I really just write that? No worries. I won't collect any posters of Joey McIntyre and you won't find his face on the back of my door like you would have in 1990 but I promise you this: if the posters found themselves on my doorstep without any effort on my part, you will be sure they will find a home on my wallspace, guaranteed.

Shit, my period is really bothering me. It didn't used to. I used to get these angry cramps that would make a stabbing in my throbbing uterus sound like a good idea. But after taking ortho for years, they went away. Now that I've stopped, the cramps are slowly creeping back, like a bad locked-out memory that's been triggered by a traumatic experience. In this case, depression or stress seems to be the ultimate culprit. I feel the need to get out of the house but it's so dreadfully cold inside my house that it must be even worse outside and it causes me to wear multiple layers, resulting in a horrendous outfit no one would ever compliment.