2002-07-14 - 9:22 p.m.
... Meanwhile, how are you? *beams politely*
Oh, I'm not too bad, thanks, *more beaming*
... This is what happens when you work as a checkout chick for 3 days straight. But now I'm back to my four day holiday part of the week so all should be good. In theory.
And I'm still as resolute as yesterday but my diet was just shot to hell by jamaican chocolate cheesecake.
Chocolate cheesecake damnit! It would have been disrespectful to my sweet toothed ancestors had I refused to meet the challenge.
But I'll get back on track the same way I always do; starvation.
*evil laugh* No, I'm kidding. I eat normal amounts am just avoiding (or trying to avoid) the major fatty-fat-fat foods, and trying to redirect my abnormal food cravings away from being connected to my emotions.
Since that's basically what it all comes down to really...
Speaking of trying to unsuccessfully avoid I should mention former-melty-hair-boy now.
See, on Friday I was all "..." because I ended up working for four hours directly across from him.
And so you can pretty much imagine my foaming-at-the-mouth type staring. Which, obviously, wasn't particularly subtle, example: F-M-H-B has no customers, starts stretching as we are supposed to to avoid getting stiff. He starts doing push-ups against the counter and my head of course automatically tilts to follow him. He of course notices and stops. Eeee.
I just couldn't seem to help myself, like when you unexpectedly see someone famous and just can't tear your eyes away ... plus I had the epiphany that he actually reminds me physically of Jess from the Gilmore Girls, which I had to argue over with myself for many hours...
"Really?... No... Wait, yes ... Really?"
Anyway, after Friday I felt bad about all the staring and had resolved to act casual and not scare poor F-M-H-B as I was so obviously doing.
This resolution was dissolved by Saturday's efforts when a group of us were standing near his register and one of my work people said something vaguely funny to me and I turned my head away as I laughed and as I turned back I caught his eye, and ended up giving this evil look, the kind of look I would imagine a laughing hyena would give it's prey.
At this point I have to stop and remind myself this is me, because all this staring behaviour is so unlike me ... normally 'eye contact' is right up there next to 'speaking' in the realms of things-I-can't-do when I like them overly.
So anyway, today, Sunday, he came up to my register to speak to the supervisor who happened to also be standing there-ish. And, am very proud of myself for not even looking at him! My eyes skimmed over his hair, I quickly and unobtrusively noted it was him, and I went back to work.
Pride noted, also have to mention how at the time every cell in my body was screaming "Look at him!"
Only now have cells quieted down to mere whining "Please ... look ... at him?"
... (Mini Sidenote, last night I dreamed Shelley came to work and she got served by F-M-H-B and he was all "wow" and she was all "whoa" and they got to live happily ever after while I looked on. I woke up feeling bad ... )
And I suppose this is the part where I should add that I am technically (according to some) a pedophile as F-M-H-B is a good 2 months younger than me. It's not fair that guys can ... what's the word I want? 'like' or 'have' girls like 30 yrs younger and people barely blink, but for girls to 'like' or 'have' guys slightly younger than themselves, it's just not...
Not culturally acceptable, I suppose.
But it's only two months, just sixty days ... ish. You can't even call me a cradle snatcher really...
Well, you can, but the literal imagery would involve a two month old baby stealing a newborn.
Which is ridiculous, really, I mean how would I even lift him? I suppose it gives scary new meaning to the idea of "baby love".
On the one hand I don't really think I am a pedophile but on the other hand some part of me does feel wrong about it and on the other hand I feel like the fact that he is so immensely outta my league oughta compensate some.
And this is the part where we have to stop and wonder ... why do I have three hands?
Sigh. How come the words "normal" and "relationship" are always mutually exclusive in my life?
I suppose it's got something to do with the incompatibility of "normal" and "life".
Favourite (and okay, only, but I still like) Google link to me of the minute: "cute sneezing OR sneezed OR sneeze OR sneezes" yeeeeeaaah
You just gotta love that someone came here (although only staying 0 seconds) for that.
Oh, I'm not too bad, thanks, *more beaming*
... This is what happens when you work as a checkout chick for 3 days straight. But now I'm back to my four day holiday part of the week so all should be good. In theory.
And I'm still as resolute as yesterday but my diet was just shot to hell by jamaican chocolate cheesecake.
Chocolate cheesecake damnit! It would have been disrespectful to my sweet toothed ancestors had I refused to meet the challenge.
But I'll get back on track the same way I always do; starvation.
*evil laugh* No, I'm kidding. I eat normal amounts am just avoiding (or trying to avoid) the major fatty-fat-fat foods, and trying to redirect my abnormal food cravings away from being connected to my emotions.
Since that's basically what it all comes down to really...
Speaking of trying to unsuccessfully avoid I should mention former-melty-hair-boy now.
See, on Friday I was all "..." because I ended up working for four hours directly across from him.
And so you can pretty much imagine my foaming-at-the-mouth type staring. Which, obviously, wasn't particularly subtle, example: F-M-H-B has no customers, starts stretching as we are supposed to to avoid getting stiff. He starts doing push-ups against the counter and my head of course automatically tilts to follow him. He of course notices and stops. Eeee.
I just couldn't seem to help myself, like when you unexpectedly see someone famous and just can't tear your eyes away ... plus I had the epiphany that he actually reminds me physically of Jess from the Gilmore Girls, which I had to argue over with myself for many hours...
"Really?... No... Wait, yes ... Really?"
Anyway, after Friday I felt bad about all the staring and had resolved to act casual and not scare poor F-M-H-B as I was so obviously doing.
This resolution was dissolved by Saturday's efforts when a group of us were standing near his register and one of my work people said something vaguely funny to me and I turned my head away as I laughed and as I turned back I caught his eye, and ended up giving this evil look, the kind of look I would imagine a laughing hyena would give it's prey.
At this point I have to stop and remind myself this is me, because all this staring behaviour is so unlike me ... normally 'eye contact' is right up there next to 'speaking' in the realms of things-I-can't-do when I like them overly.
So anyway, today, Sunday, he came up to my register to speak to the supervisor who happened to also be standing there-ish. And, am very proud of myself for not even looking at him! My eyes skimmed over his hair, I quickly and unobtrusively noted it was him, and I went back to work.
Pride noted, also have to mention how at the time every cell in my body was screaming "Look at him!"
Only now have cells quieted down to mere whining "Please ... look ... at him?"
... (Mini Sidenote, last night I dreamed Shelley came to work and she got served by F-M-H-B and he was all "wow" and she was all "whoa" and they got to live happily ever after while I looked on. I woke up feeling bad ... )
And I suppose this is the part where I should add that I am technically (according to some) a pedophile as F-M-H-B is a good 2 months younger than me. It's not fair that guys can ... what's the word I want? 'like' or 'have' girls like 30 yrs younger and people barely blink, but for girls to 'like' or 'have' guys slightly younger than themselves, it's just not...
Not culturally acceptable, I suppose.
But it's only two months, just sixty days ... ish. You can't even call me a cradle snatcher really...
Well, you can, but the literal imagery would involve a two month old baby stealing a newborn.
Which is ridiculous, really, I mean how would I even lift him? I suppose it gives scary new meaning to the idea of "baby love".
On the one hand I don't really think I am a pedophile but on the other hand some part of me does feel wrong about it and on the other hand I feel like the fact that he is so immensely outta my league oughta compensate some.
And this is the part where we have to stop and wonder ... why do I have three hands?
Sigh. How come the words "normal" and "relationship" are always mutually exclusive in my life?
I suppose it's got something to do with the incompatibility of "normal" and "life".
Favourite (and okay, only, but I still like) Google link to me of the minute: "cute sneezing OR sneezed OR sneeze OR sneezes" yeeeeeaaah
You just gotta love that someone came here (although only staying 0 seconds) for that.
