� Memoirs of an Evil Genius �
Conquering the World, One Martini at a Time

� Professionals Have To Bend Over a Lot �
12:47 a.m., 2003-07-25

This morning, I was awakened by a phone call from Lauren. It was actually really great to hear from her, because I haven�t heard from her in what feels like weeks, what with her busy schedule of working and working and going on vacations to New England and all. So it was cool, but I was really not expecting it, and I totally thought it was my stupid alarm clock going off and couldn�t understand why I couldn�t make the damn thing shut up after hitting every single button on the console, flipping the AM/FM switch, changing the radio stations, and rolling the volume dial every which way but loose.

When I finally discovered it was the phone, I was somewhat more awake, but probably not the most scintillating conversationalist Lauren has spoken to in the last few days. I regret to say that beyond learning she had a great vacation, was spending some time with a relative, and said I could call her tomorrow, I can�t entirely recall what we spoke about. Although I do remember something really funny she said about getting messages from this relative, which relation exactly I can no longer say. Some kind of grand-something, I believe. Sorry, Lauren. But that was funny what you said about the messages!

I had to get off the phone, though, because I had to get ready for work. However, after I got into the bathroom and figured out how to get my contacts in (always a trial, let me tell you), I remembered that it no longer matters what I look like at work anymore! It�s refreshing to once again not give a shit. Although some would say now is the very time I ought to look my best, and show the Cute Receptionist just what he�s missing. Although, I think the Cute Receptionist is quite aware of what he�s missing, and doesn�t seem particularly distressed about it, which is a little offensive, if I may say so.

Also, he was even more attractive today than ever before, like, what the fuck kind of impulse is that? What the hell part of my stupid brain is all, �Hey! Hey, want that! You can�t have that now, so want it! Want it bad! Neener neener neener! You can�t have that! WANT IT!� Stupid brain. But I was very professional, as I sauntered back and forth through the lobby, bending over periodically to pick things up off the floor, and leaning over the desk to leave the scent of my cologne hanging in the air. I�m pretty sure that at least one of those times, he actually looked up from what he was doing to see why I kept clearing my throat while bending over to pick up that pencil I kept dropping every time I went by. Not that I want to flirt with him anymore, because I don�t flirt with people who are already taken by other people but don�t tell you they�re taken when you start openly flirting with them and making overtures and giving them openings to ask you out, and then finally they tell you that they�re seeing someone else, only they mention it all casually, like, oh, by the way, I hope you�re not taking this flirting thing too seriously, because of how I�m already getting nailed like a picture frame every night by someone who�s younger and has more stamina than you, and you thought I liked you, HA HA! I don�t flirt with people like that.

So instead, I just marched around, all mature and business-like, and when he spoke to me I was polite and professional without being too friendly. And he totally didn�t even notice. That son of a bitch.

No Quiz Today, Because It�s Late and I�m Tired As Shit.

Someone Got Here By Searching For: �where were you the night of June� And: fraternities wanted gangbang I�m Watching: Some jacked-up infomercial about something to do with chicken patties, or something. I really don�t get late-night TV, like, at all. Tomorrow I�m: Buying presents for a baby person with a half-birthday coming up, and a full-grown person who had a birthday a couple months ago that I totally forgot about. Oops.

� 2005 by Dr. No, all rights reserved; you break it, you buy it.



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