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My coworker brought a bird to work on Friday. I don't believe I should have to stay at work when I have to watch an animal shit on a coworker.

This afternoon, I grappled with the schism between my writing talent and my motivation to use it. I am talented; I must immodestly admit that. However, I have never had much desire to actually exercise...
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"Who is number one?"

"You are, number six."

Long day at work punctuated with a rewatching of "Fall Out" and half an hour on the elliptical trainer. Nice, quiet day.

I love Sundays. A trip to the gym. Scrubbed clean. Pho. Wash the car. Movies. A good dinner. My good life is so much better when things are simple and orderly. I also danced in the aisles at Whole Foods to the tune of "Papas Got a Brand New Bag". If you don't feel the urge to dance when you hear the Godfather of Soul,...
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I made things happen, as if by magic. I had some chorizo and salad. Then I listened to "Check Yo Self".

It was a better day.

I eat fast. This is a fact. It's one of the few things about me that bothers me. I feel gauche and disgusting eating like a starved dog. I also feel sick inside that people feel the need to comment about it, because it makes me ashamed to eat outside my home and makes me self-conscious, which is something that I otherwise never am.

The...
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"What was that?" my friend barked into the phone. "Are you in Seattle? You're not in China Town or Japan or anything, right?" While this question seems odd at first, said friend had indeed called me for this and that only to find out that I wasn't anywhere near home and wandering through back alleys of San Francisco. Oh the miracles of cell phones and...
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The sun is shining, and my uncharacteristic angst of the past few weeks is forgotten. iTunes is playing interesting songs this morning, and soon I'll wander to the farmer's market. It's going to be a good day.

I have to say that there's nothing better for my mood than a quiet dinner at a semi-nice restaurant in a wanna-be upscale area of town. I'll be sitting there in a Fox Racing tee, baggy jeans, and running shoes. My table manners will be textbook-perfect, but the crabby, bobble-headed old men in the turquoise jackets and white pants (Oh so Miami Vice) will glare...
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Enough of that. Not long after I wrote that, I told myself the one thing that has always separated me from everyone else. I said, "Deal with it." That's my quintessential advantage: I can accept a situation, learn from it, and move on like no one else. So I manned up, put things in order, and I'm calmer now.

Tomorrow, I will follow my usual...
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Fun fact: in the penultimate stage of my anger, I cry. Not sobbing or anything, but leaking around the eyes, sniffling, and constricted voice. The effect gets worse the harder I try to reign the anger in. In the past this has lead to some interesting misunderstandings--namely that I'm not about the beat the fuck out of you. Also, as humiliating as it is to...
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I work in a place where we coined the abbreviation MMMIGTMYD (midget motorcycle man is going to molest you dance) about one of our coworkers. Said dance is like a combination of the lawnmower and the monkey if you were straddling a very wide motorcycle while dry-humping it. He did it at one of my female coworkers not long ago.

I weep inside.

I often say I moved her from Florida to get out of the fucking heat. Today, it was 25 degrees hotter here than where I used to live in Florida. Oh bitter irony. I did remember from my years in these situations back home and Florida that the only way to deal with this kind of heat is to decide that it's not going to...
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