Do you know how you can get it out, though?
Aruba, Jamaica, ooooh I wanna take ya -
|Shoutout to the guy in the back who doesn't know where the camera is.|
Ok now stop being mad at me and read the post. To the rhythm of a steel drum band.
|Way down in Kokom- wait is that the same fucking guy with his hand on his hair? Who even let him in here|
Fuck I'm sorry. It just ran away on me. I promise no more Kokomo.
As a side note, this is not unlike the time I was messaging Button at work and managed to string her along with Dave Dobbyn lyrics for way too long, and then she became angry:
me: hey Button do you know, I can't remember the last time I thanked you
button: *vaguely confused, but pleased*
me: I think I've been keeping my distance
button: *confused, concerned*
me: too close for comfort
me: it just ain't close enough
button: GOD DAMN IT U SHIT
ANYWAY I've been off the blog grid - which sounds like what you would call the unfortunate-looking female cousin of Hagrid -
|Blogrid, yer a... disappointment to this family.|
- mostly because I'm disorganised and unmotivated but also because there have been new projects at work, so I come home and collapse into bed. Or a bottle of wine. Sometimes both.
The projects mean I have many meetings with important people; you can tell they're important people because they say 'strategic imperatives' more than anyone ever really needs to! So strategic. And yet, so imperative.
Here's how today's meeting went.
Colleague: "something something revenue. Disappointed noise."
Me, professionally: "While revenue from the event was-"
internally: don't say 'a fucken banana'
internally: don't say 'turdy'
internally: fuck now I've paused for too long
Me: "a bit of a banana-"
internally: ahhh fuck me
Me: "I mean not where we expected it to be-"
Me: "the project delivered on a number of strategic imperatives."
internally: did you hear that! strategic imperatives. look at me go.
Colleague: *something about revenue*
internally: i wonder if my kitchen rules is on tonight
On the way home I was thinking about the meeting and about how I overcame the odds and didn't say 'fucken banana', and how I'm excellent at all manner of things, then I got my necklace caught on the handbrake getting out of the car.
|beach boys can you stop pointing I'm already embarrassed and also trying to parallel park and this isn't helping|
Enough about the Beach Boys, here's the pun about the flamingo.
Dude's tinder bio: they asked me at the party if I was going to stop playing wonderwall, and I said - maaaaaybe
Me: They asked you if you would stop playing wonderwall, and you said maybe? They asked me to stop doing my flamingo impression, and that's when I put my foot down.
Dude: Let's get married.
Me: It seems like the logical next step.
And then neither of us ever sent another message, and quite honestly I think that's about as good as Tinder gets.
Unless, of course, I made my profile picture the Beach Boys.
|Aruba. Jamaica. Hey how was ur weekend?|