What's the universal signal for "blow on your face" ?

I said I would write more... but already I've been slacking. A short recap of the hilarities I endured this week...

Sunday/Monday: I finally cried this week over the madness that my family has insisted on ringing 2011 in with. More specifically, Divorce, or - as I like to call it - the see-saw game of  "fuck you, no fuck YOU" that ensues before the actual divorce.

In the midst of pretending to know how to play mediator, I found myself strangely grateful for the following:

1. ... for discovering that I'm not broke, and I can cry/feel emotion again. (Still very much convinced that I'm "heartless" though).

2. ... for my deadbeat father, who was transparent enough, early on, that my mother divorced him before I was old enough to witness, well remember, the teeter-tottering of their hell-acious feud.

3. ... for having the gumption to recognize that marriage = bad news. I'd prefer chopping my ring finger off, instead. A good marriage is a Unicorn in the modern world... just a myth my friends.

My boss let me take a couple of shots when I finally got to work. And I gotta tell you, an empty stomach + tore up nerves + jager bombs ... is the way to drink. I can humbly say I was quite the entertainment for the 2-3 regulars that actually came in.

Tuesday: Kicked off my new weightlifting plan. Pretended I didn't see the guy working out in Timberlands and sweat pants trying to "holla" at me. I figured justifying being a snob based on his workout attire was... snobby... so instead I focused on the fact that I was curling more weight than he was. 

I also realized that I don't wear enough make-up or have short enough shorts on (i prefer pants) to workout out between 5-6:30 pm. Apparently, every attractive-but-sorta-skanky-looking girl in Wilmington got this memo. In their defense, there was good-looking tat-sleeved eye candy. Skank on, Skankbags.

Wednesday: My boss was still off duck hunting which means I had the office to myself again. I exercised the very complex skill of sitting behind a desk, in an office environment while accomplishing absolutely nothing, all day.  It's actually a lot harder than it looks.

Later, Allie let me practice some shots on her. It benefited us both -- I got to practice and she got drunk. My boss' were both in a good mood so more drinking-on-the-job ensued. I also realized that I need to look up the universal signal for discreetly telling someone they have blow on their face. I only know the Booger signal. Will that work? I suppose it's worth a shot. Here's to coke heads... and whatever  [ humiliation ] or [ after party ] must ensue whenever they see the extra powder stuck in their face-hair stubble hours later. 

 Thursday: Still solo in the office. Still unproductive. But go figure... the one day I decide NOT to wear a bra... everyone wants to stop by the office to  conduct business. Makes me wonder if my little boobies are more pretentious than I thought... somehow putting out some sort of memo that they're 'on display and nipples may be visible'... although I highly doubt an A-cup could ever be considered a "display" let alone be smart enough to send out a memo. C/D cup, maybe. (Bet that put you little bitches back in your place.)  ha.... I crack myself up.  

Happy Thursday. Despite the madness and the monotone.... I love my life!! <3