I HAVE A BLOW-UP BED

Today was my first day (my fourth first day at this same place if you REALLY want to get technical).

I work in an OFFICE BUILDING. I sit on my ass all day and do wicked voodoo with the mad computer design-y skillz. So how the hell do I manage to get mud all over my favorite pair of shoes? That's because I have to go take new photos for a panarama of a building. Not so bad, you would think, BUT YOU WOULD BE WRONG. Sure, I get out of the office. Sure, today was a BEAUTIFUL September day (yes, I am FULLY aware that it is J-A-N-U-A-R-Y). But it's been raining. And it wasn't warm enough to make that go away.

So I have to tredge through the soppy (is actually a word), haphazardly placed, piss-poor grass to some point on a hill that NO LONGER EXISTS to take some fine photos for this panarama extravaganza.

Woe be to you had I actually managed to get up early enough this morning to wear the outfit I had PLANNED to wear (which needed ironed) that involved high heels. And as I'm walking back to my car, I'm whining to Man Friend ("Would you like some wine with that cheese?", "How about cheese with that whine?", "Shut up.") who suggested I throw a pair of tennis shoes if ever such an occassion arose again... to my dismay because I did have tennis shoes in the back of my car but I wasn't smart enough to think of that.


My bed squeaks when I jiggle my rump.