I Have a “Head” for Business

My friend, Claude, and I were emailing the other day, and he informed me of a special agreement that our friend, Mary* Diva, had made with her boyfriend.  Mary Diva is a delightful young Mary whom I find to be extremely entertaining.  She is your stereotypical gay man: she knows every single showtune in the world, loves fashion, worships Victoria Beckham, and has 2 Chihuahuas (plus outfits for each one).  Last month she made an incredibly sweet deal with her boyfriend. In exchange for 1 blow j per night for a month, Mary Diva’s boyfriend would present her with this Juicy Couture rabbit fur trimmed hoody.  I hate Juicy Couture and think all the things are both lame and trampy, but I think Mary Diva is on to something.  You see, this hoody costs $675-that’s equivalent to a little over $21 per bartles & jaymes.  That’s not too bad.

This got me thinking: could I do this for other fashion products?  The answer: yes.  I am now starting my own business called Fellatio for Fashion, and there will be a small subdivision called Hand-jobs for Handbags.  It’s genius!!  In exchange for couture, bj’s and hj’s will be provided. 

I want a Chloe bag, god damn it, and I’m willing to work for it. 

*Claude and I have a mutual friend who is gay.  It was this friend who told us that we must refer to all gay men as “Mary” and use “she” instead of “he”.

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Go, Go Speed Dater: Part 2

Brown Poly Pants is the one date that I was dreading the most. Let me describe Mr. Brown Poly Pants:

The Outfit: Clearly, he was wearing brown polyester pants. This was very classily matched with a thin, short-sleeved, button down “dress” shirt. Underneath, he had on a navy blue t-shirt. Lord only knows why. As for the shoes, I couldn’t bring myself to look at them.

Physical Appearance: Brown Poly Pants (now known as BPP because it’s getting annoying typing out his God given name) was about 5’3″-that’s a good 5 inches shorter than I am (even more if you factor in the heels I was wearing). He was bald. His bald head did very little to detract from his pot-belly. If I didn’t know any better, I would have guessed that he was about 7 months pregnant.

Bonus: To top it all off, he had a lisp.

He very much reminded me of Hairy McBacksweat*, who I dated many years ago (when I was fat and going through hard times). He reminded me of a much older version of Hairy McBacksweat. Hairy McB used to do this fake lisp which was pretty amusing from time to time. When BPP sat across from me and started talking to me, I almost laughed out loud.

The chemistry was undeniable!! I had to contain myself to not immediately jump out of my terribly uncomfortable chair and mount him. I took a sip of my truly horrible cocktail to regain composure. Then we chatted about stuff. I have no recollection of what we talked about. I do remember, however, that I was going to be a total bitch when he sat down. Then I thought, “No! You cannot do that to your readers. They will be so disappointed in you. You must pretend to like him.” And so I did. Mama flirted like a champ. I leaned forward so he could look down my dress, I maintained eye contact. I laughed when he made a joke-at least I think it was a joke.

Thankfully, the 4 minutes went by quickly. I did not put an “x” in the yes box next to his name.

Bye-bye, BPP, it was nice to meet you!! I’m sure I’ll be seeing your face in a mug shot when you get arrested for soliciting sex from an undercover police officer.

*We shall leave the story of Hairy McBacksweat for a rainy day.

Behold. . .

Today the “Behold” series begins. This will be a riveting and enthralling series introducing you to things that will immediately improve your life and sense of meaning.

For our first installment I introduce you to the world’s most uncomfortable shoes. Imagine walking around with bear traps on your feet. Sure, they look hot, but they are so painful that they bring tears to my eyes everytime I have to leave my desk.

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New Addition!

It’s with great pleasure that my Michael Kors handbag an I announce a new addition to our budding family. Our cherry red ipod was purchased yesterday at approximately 4:12 PM. With a shiny red coat, and 4 GB, the cherry ipod came home and the downloading began.

My handbag and I are thinking of names and will let you know once an appropriate one is chosen.

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Down with Debbie Downer

This morning Debbie Downer came over to my aisle to ask me a question. “What do you think about this outfit for a date?” I gave her the once over: she was wearing black Capri pants, black sandals, and an ugly ass light-colored denim shirt that not even my mother would wear. “I’d like to see you in a cuter top,” I told her. My friends agreed. “Well, I had on a super cute top that crisscrossed up at the top and blah, blah, blah, but the top looks all lame over top my pants because the waist sticks out.” She then proceeded to give us all a 20 minute monologue on how rough her life is because she’s so skinny, and she wears cheaply made pants that are all fucked up in the waist.

I should have known better than to tell her what I thought.

She’s going on a date tonight to PF Chang’s with some guy. Tomorrow night, she has a date with a different guy. Saturday night man is a pilot and dresses nicely. Friday night guy is probably a truck driver and likes to wear jeans and a t-shirt. Either way, I don’t particularly care.

She just stopped by my “office” (and by “office” I mean “cubicle”) to tell me that now she has a date on Sunday night too. She’s going to the baseball game with Friday night guy. Umm. . .I don’t care. What I do care about is knowing how on god’s green earth she has all these dates this weekend while my Friday night plans consist of going home and cleaning my house.

Bitter? Me! How dare you?!?! How very dare you?!?!