Wednesday, May 31, 2006

A day in the life of me. Yawn.

My Rebellious Shirt
At risk of getting fired, I've decided to test the corporate waters by wearing a shirt to work today that says, "Rock out with your cock out." (Shirt courtesy of my girl, Ivy Supersonic.). Oh to be me. Self-entertainment is truly priceless when your job is that boring.

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My Red Shoes
Some girl stopped me on the street today and gave me mad props on my red shoes. I clearly deserved it. They are hot and look great with my cock shirt (which is a lot cuter than that thing above).

Interns, Bladder Problems and Fake Medicines
The office is sprawling with interns. One of whom sits right by the door and watches me as I go to the bathroom 16 times per hour. Seriously, my bladder is the size of a pea. Now I have to make some stupid little joke to the effect of "I got cursed with my grandma's bladder," which probably freaks this chick out more than soothes her curiosity. I never had this problem before because everyone else is hidden in their little cubes. I could slip in and out as I pleased.

Oh, and on the subject of my bladder, I scream at the TV when I see the commercials that ask women, "Do you have to go to the bathroom more than 8 times a day? If so, you might have a problem." As if that's a problem. I drink a pot of coffee and a gallon of water a day. Don't you think it would be weird if I didn't go to the bathroom at least 8 times a day. Weird fake medicines that cater to fake "conditions" are one of the many things on my growing list of things to get annoyed about when I'm bored: "Do you feel dirty when you don't take a shower? Well then, you probably have such and such disorder and need this product."

And, in a pretty non-related way, all of this brings me back to the interns. There are 4 of them and each one was scribbling just a bit too furiously during our new-client brainstorming session this morning. And they all stare. And they are all way too easily impressed. And they all giggle when one of the full-timers makes a bad joke. I sware I was never like this when I was an intern. Promise. No lie. Never did it.

The Gay Guy in the Office Likes Me
Lest you hadn't heard, a girl is officially "in" when gay guys like her. This recognitions means a number of things: You are sassy. You dress well (cock shirt? red shoes?). You don't take shit. You talk back to people who do. You have a serious attitude problem. Women who are famous for being liked by gay guys are Cher and Madonna. Somehow Kelly Clarkson and Paris Hilton recently slipped through the cracks as well. I guess Paris makes sense, but Kelly Clarkson is definitely a random member of the club. I think that it has to be some kind of strategic publicity stunt, like her agency had some gay guy declare that he likes her while in a highly visible area. It could happen, you know?

Anyway, my gay guy declared today that, "I wish I sat next to GiGi." Unfortunately I don't remember what obscene comment I made that impressed him so much because I make quite a few. All I know is that I'm in. Once you're in, you're pretty much golden for life. Cher can do no wrong. Madonna can do no wrong. And now, GiGi can do no wrong.

Getting My Deposit Back
I'm supposed to meet the girl who's moving into my old room at my old place (sucker!) tonight to get my deposit check. Only thing is, that involves seeing the old roommate. I'm subtly telling her that I just want to come to her office over lunch to grab the check and give her my keys, but she keeps on throwing in curveballs that involve me having to go to the old apartment. I wish I could just say, "Hello! I don't want to see the diablo you're moving in with," but my sales pitch on him was so positive that I can't do that. I mean, you should have seen me in action. After that performance I could've won an Oscar. As my sister would say, "Girl, you could sell dick to a dyke."

I probably could.

Anyway, this day is only half way over. I'm sure I'll run into plenty more thrillers and chillers as the day goes on. Woohoo. Exciting.....


Ben said...

Look at it like this, Gigi:

If you HAVE to go back to the old apartment, you could get your check, drop off the keys, and say you need to relieve your pea-sized bladder. Then you can scrub your poop-chute clean with his toothbrush. In every curse there is a golden window of opportunity...

bufflo said...

Oh, I miss the days of having interns...

There's only one gay guy at your office? And you're in Chelsea?

badmammajamma said...

First of all, it is I, the spelling police. You mean "bladder", not "blatter". Anyway, that being said, I am realllly not a fan of offensive shirts like the one you mentioned. My reasoning? They usually spur rather awkward explanations to children who are old enough to read, but are not old enough to know what the word "cock" means in that context. My daughter falls in this category. My sister-in-law used to have a shirt that said "You say tomato, I say Fuck You". She never wore it again once she got pregnant. All of that aside, I am a HUGE fan of red shoes.

bufflo said...

"They usually spur rather awkward explanations to children who are old enough to read, but are not old enough to know what the word "cock" means in that context."

That's why they're funny.

Gigi said...

Bladder! I knew it! Have made the necessary changes. Thanks, BMJ. As for my shirt, the word "cock" wasn't on it. There's a picture of a rooster. People just make the connection - not that I'm concerned about kids reading it.
A). Because there's no such thing as kids in Manhattan.
B). I still wouldn't care, and
C). Nope - just don't care.

Your sister's shirt, on the other hand, sounds very lame. I wouldn't wear that around kids...or anyone for that matter.

Nevertheless, I love ya baby! Oh - along time ago you asked why I call 'A Concerned Fan' "Chosen." Basically, he's Jewish and his last name rhymes with Chosen. So, yeah...

badmammajamma said...

bufflo and Gigi

I can infer from both your comments (like I didn't know already) that neither one of you have kids. Trust me, if you ever do, you'll probably feel differently. Maybe not, but then you'd be horrible parents anyway, so what difference would a little cursing make? Just kidding.

Anyhoo, Gigi, I figured out the rooster picture on the shirt thing after I clicked on your Ivy Supersonic link. Better than the picture you have up with the actual words, but I don't really care that much what you wear because the likelihood of either of my kids ever seeing it is nil. Oh, and thanks for explaining the "Chosen" thing. It's been keeping me up nights. Not really, but inquiring minds did want to know. So, loves ya too and keep being a skanky ho bag!!!!!!:)

Ben said...

First, I'd like to say I'm still interested in hearing if Gigi took any liberties with her ex-roomie's toothbrush.

Second, Gigi, I was trying to subtly tell you about the blatter thing by spelling it in my post. That's my fault--I should know enough about you by now to know subtle is one of the few words that does not exist in your impressive vocabulary.

Third, I'd like to share my favorite quasi-offensive and offensive t-shirts from my personal collection:

1) Your favorite band sucks (black tee--great for going to see live shows)

2) Friends don't let friends listen to Creed.

3) I'm not gay! I fucked your mom! (there are no words to describe the awesomeness of this t-shirt).

Gigi said...

BMJ - We're chill, right? Yeah, I wouldn't wear a shirt that said cock around MY kids. Someone else's kids? Probably. Hee hee. I've got a few years to go before I pop any out though. I'm sure kids are pretty much like dogs: You despise other people's until you get one of your own. While at one time you used to curse their existence, you now prepare filet mignon with caramelized onions for the mutt while you eat tuna from a can. My old dog preferred Tibetan food, to tell ya the truth.

Ben - I didn't have a chance to pull the toothbrush trick. I got out of having to go to his house (as you will read in my new posting). I will do something though - oh yes.

By the way, the intern who sat by the door quit! Yes, now I can go to the bathroom without having to speak to the gargoyle who guards the gate.

badmammajamma said...

Yeah, Gigi, it goes something like that. Actually, my husband and I have 2 kids, but he still hates everyone else's kids. Hmm, let's see. I don't have any offensive shirts, but I do have some favorites:

^^^^^I'm from Mississippi, what can I say?

Damn. Maddox rules.

Best offensive shirt for babies.

bufflo said...

No, I don't have any kids. But in the future, if I have kids, and they're old/smart enough to read, then I'll explain it to them. I grew up in a very liberal world, and an even more liberal family, so I'm gonna do my best to give my kids the same luxury. But, as with everything, it'll probably be some kind of compromise between me and my future ex-wife.