Embarrassing
Apparently September is The Cosmos Align to Embarrass Rebecca Month.
Week One:
First day at work: spill coffee all over the sleeve of my white dress shirt while trying to get in a taxi in the morning. Solution: roll up sleeves and look like a dork.
Second day at work: spill coffee all over the front of another white dress shirt in front of the nice HR person giving me a tour when the elevator decides to jerk like a carnival ride. Solution: luckily this one washed out with copious amounts of water, however…
Had a meeting with the VP of whoosamawhatit looking like a contestant in a corporate chick wet t-shirt contest. Solution: explain the situation first thing and then maintain aggressive eye contact.
Week Two:
Tuesday morning 5 a.m. I walk up to a cab where I see the cabbie laying down in the front seat pleasuring himself. (see "cabbies" blog)
Wednesday night, walking to Kendall Square T stop, feeling kind of sassy, meeting a girlfriend for drinks, kinda dressed up in black dress pants and a fancy black tank and high heels. Yeah, I’m working it…Yeah, I’m a cool city chick, check me out… Yeah, I’m...
…. flat on my face in front of two MIT boys.
Damn those four inch heels.
Later Wednesday night… I am hit on by
-A 60 year old man (I smiled politely)
-A drunk Texan (I turned down the offer to go to his hotel with him, but pointed him in the right direction since he was too drunk to find it)
-A guy on a date with another guy (I pretended not to notice the daggers the other guy was shooting at me after he came back from the men’s room and found him chatting me up.)
-A guy who struck out with my friend four seconds prior (By then I had had it, so I decided to kind of torture this one and right there on the velvety sofa of the club, pulled out my dog-eared copy of Lolita that I’m reading and made him read the first paragraph and discuss it with me.)
Later, later Wednesday night…I have to somehow delicately reveal the following information to my friend about the guy that she met recently and made us meet up with:
- He’s a cokehead.
-The tattoo that he reveals to us on his forearm so proudly makes me realize that I’ve seen his CL personals posting, which states:
NAUGHTY BOY -------------->> WANTS A REAL ------------ >> NAUGHTY GIRL
I just moved here from NYC and since I am the bad boy type, most woman in Boston want me for one reason and one reason only. To be a part time bad girl. That sucks for me.
They call me at 1:00am. Come over for 2-3hrs and leave. What happened to spending the night? I am not your normal bad boy, I have a soft side as well.
Since Boston woman are good girls to there friends and family and bad girls with no one watching, I get screwed.
I want a naughty, bad, wild, mature girl that is not ashamed to be naughty. One that has is free spirited.
Since Boston woman are all closet casses to there friends and family and become bad girls with no one watching, I get screwed.
If you feel that you are a chill, no judgementle, relax girl/woman ... Please let email me.
please ... no closet casses ... only true naughty girls!
Thanks.
PS ... PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ... NAUGHTY GIRLS ONLY!
No Shyness
No Inhibitions
No worries
No drama
... ONLY ... FUN FUN FUN
p.s. This is also the night that my taxi home smashes into a pole. (See “Cabbies” blog)
Thursday after work: After the night before and getting maximum 4 hours sleep, I sleepwalk through the day and finally come home to relax. I open the door to my (corporate housing) apartment, and realize that housekeeping has been there. They never told me when housekeeping was going to come. I realize that one of my greatests fears (see "Peanuts, anyone?" blog) has come true only worse. My house wasn't really a mess, per se, BUT!
-I had just washed a ton of my most delicate lingere and hung it up on every available surface, making my bathroom and even my dining room table appear to be the dressing room of a bordello
-The clothes I had worn out the night before - you know my sassy cool black clubby outfit - along with the accompanying underthings were trailed from apartment door to bed.
-The nightstands in my bedroom not having any drawers had led me to improvise and keep my ... ahem ... things under the extra pillow. And there they were, nice and neat under freshly changed linens.
Saturday night...I take a taxi to the North End. This driver is HOT. He's some IT guy named Walid who just started this as a part time job and doesn't know Boston at all. Awww... that's OK Walid, you are hot, and I shall flirt with/show you how to get there.
Flirt flirt...take this left...flirt...make a right...flirt...ok, Walid, stop here. Good! See? Now you know how to get to the North End. He throws me a dazzling smile and tells me I look really good in my new favorite newspaper boy/old man hat, and I step out of the cab. Yeah...I'm cool...Yeah, check me out in my superfly hat waving to Walid as I cross the street..Bye, Walid!...Yeah, look at me.....
...flat on my face on Hanover Street.
Week One:
First day at work: spill coffee all over the sleeve of my white dress shirt while trying to get in a taxi in the morning. Solution: roll up sleeves and look like a dork.
Second day at work: spill coffee all over the front of another white dress shirt in front of the nice HR person giving me a tour when the elevator decides to jerk like a carnival ride. Solution: luckily this one washed out with copious amounts of water, however…
Had a meeting with the VP of whoosamawhatit looking like a contestant in a corporate chick wet t-shirt contest. Solution: explain the situation first thing and then maintain aggressive eye contact.
Week Two:
Tuesday morning 5 a.m. I walk up to a cab where I see the cabbie laying down in the front seat pleasuring himself. (see "cabbies" blog)
Wednesday night, walking to Kendall Square T stop, feeling kind of sassy, meeting a girlfriend for drinks, kinda dressed up in black dress pants and a fancy black tank and high heels. Yeah, I’m working it…Yeah, I’m a cool city chick, check me out… Yeah, I’m...
…. flat on my face in front of two MIT boys.
Damn those four inch heels.
Later Wednesday night… I am hit on by
-A 60 year old man (I smiled politely)
-A drunk Texan (I turned down the offer to go to his hotel with him, but pointed him in the right direction since he was too drunk to find it)
-A guy on a date with another guy (I pretended not to notice the daggers the other guy was shooting at me after he came back from the men’s room and found him chatting me up.)
-A guy who struck out with my friend four seconds prior (By then I had had it, so I decided to kind of torture this one and right there on the velvety sofa of the club, pulled out my dog-eared copy of Lolita that I’m reading and made him read the first paragraph and discuss it with me.)
Later, later Wednesday night…I have to somehow delicately reveal the following information to my friend about the guy that she met recently and made us meet up with:
- He’s a cokehead.
-The tattoo that he reveals to us on his forearm so proudly makes me realize that I’ve seen his CL personals posting, which states:
NAUGHTY BOY -------------->> WANTS A REAL ------------ >> NAUGHTY GIRL
I just moved here from NYC and since I am the bad boy type, most woman in Boston want me for one reason and one reason only. To be a part time bad girl. That sucks for me.
They call me at 1:00am. Come over for 2-3hrs and leave. What happened to spending the night? I am not your normal bad boy, I have a soft side as well.
Since Boston woman are good girls to there friends and family and bad girls with no one watching, I get screwed.
I want a naughty, bad, wild, mature girl that is not ashamed to be naughty. One that has is free spirited.
Since Boston woman are all closet casses to there friends and family and become bad girls with no one watching, I get screwed.
If you feel that you are a chill, no judgementle, relax girl/woman ... Please let email me.
please ... no closet casses ... only true naughty girls!
Thanks.
PS ... PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ... NAUGHTY GIRLS ONLY!
No Shyness
No Inhibitions
No worries
No drama
... ONLY ... FUN FUN FUN
p.s. This is also the night that my taxi home smashes into a pole. (See “Cabbies” blog)
Thursday after work: After the night before and getting maximum 4 hours sleep, I sleepwalk through the day and finally come home to relax. I open the door to my (corporate housing) apartment, and realize that housekeeping has been there. They never told me when housekeeping was going to come. I realize that one of my greatests fears (see "Peanuts, anyone?" blog) has come true only worse. My house wasn't really a mess, per se, BUT!
-I had just washed a ton of my most delicate lingere and hung it up on every available surface, making my bathroom and even my dining room table appear to be the dressing room of a bordello
-The clothes I had worn out the night before - you know my sassy cool black clubby outfit - along with the accompanying underthings were trailed from apartment door to bed.
-The nightstands in my bedroom not having any drawers had led me to improvise and keep my ... ahem ... things under the extra pillow. And there they were, nice and neat under freshly changed linens.
Saturday night...I take a taxi to the North End. This driver is HOT. He's some IT guy named Walid who just started this as a part time job and doesn't know Boston at all. Awww... that's OK Walid, you are hot, and I shall flirt with/show you how to get there.
Flirt flirt...take this left...flirt...make a right...flirt...ok, Walid, stop here. Good! See? Now you know how to get to the North End. He throws me a dazzling smile and tells me I look really good in my new favorite newspaper boy/old man hat, and I step out of the cab. Yeah...I'm cool...Yeah, check me out in my superfly hat waving to Walid as I cross the street..Bye, Walid!...Yeah, look at me.....
...flat on my face on Hanover Street.
posted by Rebecca at 4:50 PM
1 Comments:
i cant wait to visit...
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