Tuesday, October 10


Interesting thing happened last night. I've been an insomniac lately, I either wake up in the middle of the night or go to bed really late. I don't think it's stress related, it's me being retarded related.

My latest pasttime is putting off doing laundry for as long as possible, aka until I'm out of clean underwear. Problem is I have over 30 pairs so for the past two months I've done laundry twice.

It gets pretty darn exciting when I'm three weeks in the hole. I may have lots of undies but I only have 4 or 5 pair of pants, so I get all slick trying to make them last.

In the latest round of procrastination I've hemmed two pairs of year old pants that I've never worn and bought three new shirts. I think the fun part about this little game is the way I rationalize spending $100 on new clothes vs. the $5 it costs to just clean the shite I already own.

Anyhoo, so last night at like 1am I was having a fashion emergency. Nothing was left except a new pair of pants that I don't really like. I pleaded with myself to just decide to wear them and get to bed, but nooo...I got all revved up and had to find the best shirt and shoes combo, too. Finally I picked an outfit (and didn't look too shabby by the way), but the damage was done. I was wired and didn't end up falling asleep until 4am.

Now the interesting part. Between 1 and 4am I somehow stopped liking the guy at work. How the hell did that happen?!? I have liked him for about two months now. I've flirted, emailed, gushed, invited him out, watched friggin Eagles games just because he's a huge fan...how the hell in 3 hours did I decide I'm done?

Only explanation...the last line of my first post. I think writing that one damn sentence made me realize that I am wasting my fucking time with this dude. I practically threw myself at him and got nothing!! UGH! I'm cute people, I swear!

Fuck that schmuck for not liking me. And fuck the Eagles. And fuck laundry, too.

Monday, October 9


I like a guy that I work with. I like him enough to blog, something I never thought I would ever have the guts to do. I'm not sure why I think a person's brave for blogging...they can just be self-involved or fourteen or bored or have friends all over the country.

Obviously I'm not brave enough or my name would be my url and I'd tell my friends I'm writing this. I'm chicken shit to admit (rhymes!) that I have a story and it might actually be worth telling.

My heart is racing and my nose is scrunched up tight as I'm typing. Why do I feel so raw? I've read blogs, some of my best friends post all the time. I've read blogs from people I don't know and I've searched for blogs by people I don't even like, perhaps to validate that I shouldn't like them. Why can't I have one?

Okay then. I am Thighs, I like a guy I work with and I don't think he likes me. First post done.