Skip to main content

Late

There are a lot of things I enjoy late: Sleeping in late, being fashionably late, late for work (well sometimes). 

However, there is one thing I hate to be late for -- at least at this time in my life -- and that's the proverbial aunt Flo. As dreadful as a visit from her may be, she is a welcoming reminder that my choice for birth control is fucking working. Sure she brings cramps and the occasional bitchiness, but she only stays a few days, unleashes her wrath for my not giving her any nieces and nephews to babysit, and departs, threatening to stay on my ass for at least another thirty years. Flo was expected to visit around Monday, but it's now Wednesday and she has yet to show her pretty little red-head. She's rarely late. I can't help but wonder -- IF SHE WILL EVER SHOW!

Okay, the above paragraph was cute and metaphorical, but trust me, I am not taking this thing too lightly. I have to be cute right now in order to take the seriousness out of the situation; for my sanity. I have to be lighthearted; otherwise, I will have a breakdown right here at work. 

I've been heading to the bathroom on the hour, checking to see if Flo is ringing the bell, but she's not. People are probably beginning to think I have bulimia or something. I don't care, I'm a wreck. And Steven is still on vacation, not that I would share this surely terrifying news with him, but I just want to take out my frustrations on the possible source of Flo's disappearance. Remember when he was holding your hands behind your back and doing you? Yes. Well, remember you wondered why his penis felt different, better? Yes. Maybe he took the condom off. Oh God! You can get pregnant from pre-cum, you know? Shut the fuck up! 

I've been experiencing these thoughts for the last two days. They don't help. 

So after work today, a journey to Walgreens will be embarked upon. And for the second time in my life, I will wait for a minus or a plus. I know it's early, but better to be early than too late.

Popular posts from this blog

Broiling Alive

Some of you might not be aware of this but Chicago has morphed into the fiery pits of Hell, with atrocious sunburned feet to boot. See, this is why I hate summer, for this exact reason. Why do people insist on wearing flip flops in the sun? I can't tell you how many hundreds of sunburned feet I witnessed just last week alone. Jan managed to drag Diana and me to the beach on Sunday, where we both proceeded to bake and die immediately. Jan didn't care -- he was busy working on his "sex tan." You know, the kind where there's a dramatic tan line around the hips. The Swedes sure know how to tan, don't they? you would think with them being Nordic that they would just burn to a crisp, but no -- golden brown goodness all the time. This weekend, Diana's apartment was a cooling center. We conked out with old Glamours and iced raspberry-lemon tea. I don't know why Diana is afraid to throw away magazines. I swear there is a 1997 issue of Glamour with some supe

"...'Tis the Season.."

To be fucking jolly. If by jolly the saying means destroying a much-loved pair of shoes while Christmas shopping. That serves me right for shopping for cashmere sweaters, pearl earrings, and DVDs in four-inch heels, in this seriously fucked weather. Okay, so I wear Uggs out the house, but then I slip my feet into a sinful pair of stilettos when I reach my destination. Sure, frumpy Walmart queens and flat-footed soccer moms are staring at my shoes and wondering how do I do it. Do I tread the slushy city streets in foot porn all year round? Hell no. I know the power of creating porn with your feet, and so I try my hardest to present the most hardcore of porn. However, a day shopping with Jan will render every pair of shoes with impractical heels major softcore. Jan must go to every store in Chicago and the suburbs to find an effing antique lamp "that will fit perfectly in Henry's store." Jan explains that lighting is important when people are spending their money. "

Showing Off...Again

Within minutes of coming to work, I was in His office giving him another eyeful. "I thought about you all night long," He said, while wanting to touch me. I didn't let him. "I'm in your office way too much. People are going to know something," I said. He didn't care. We hugged for a long time; me getting a deep whiff of his sexy cologne. Then we reluctantly separated.  "See me before you leave?" I nodded. What's the deal? Is this strictly an office thing? Is this where the excitement lives? Sure it all feels good, but what's really going on here?