it's a pointless flower

At the end of every shift I'd dump my leftover water or soda into the poinsettia plant on the counter. It wouldn't die. I don't hate plants, I just don't care for poinsettias. They aren't interesting and the flowers don't smell. And I don't hate Christmas, (all the way.) Maybe I am just like my mother. She hates poinsettias. It's kind of a pointless thing to dislike and all. But ohh- to see peoples reactions when you tell them that, "They're ugly." It's like they're 10 years old again. 
Santa isn't real.

can of olives & a sexy smile

I should have waited.

I look forward to his smile. It’s a sweet smile. It lights up his face. Or maybe his face lights up when he sees me. He says my hair looks nice when it’s down. My co-worker and her friend say that anytime a man comments on your hair, it means he want to bone you. I’m choosing to believe them.  He’s sexy. And he’s not trying to be.  He has no idea that his yellow fitting around his biceps t-shirt made him look so delicious today. I was so anxious to give him that fucking can of olives. I should have done it when no one was around. 

sixty second stories...

A couple of my posts from http://oneword.com.  I love this website. A good cure for writers block, or boredom.


Stamps:

As I lick the stamps to adhere to the love letters I’ll never send you, I wonder why you ate all the cookies before you left me forever.


Sheets:

As I lay here between the sheets, I remember the last time we spoke on the phone. You told me about the cafe on the corner of 1st and Yesterday. The croissants were better than the ones you had in France.

about a boss...

She said "I'll see you tomorrow," twenty-two minutes ago. She left a piece of her tension behind. I hope she doesn't come back for it. Maybe she'll loose it on her way home. She's late for an appointment. Maybe a pre-op visit for the surgery. That's been long overdue. Now it's twenty-three minutes. She's keeping her Dr. waiting. Had to have a few last words to make sure she has ruined the day of the others. Hmm. Her husband is leaving too. I doubt it's a medical appointment. Marriage counseling? She is rather selfish. And quite self-righteous too. She can remodel her entire house, but it doesn't change the fact that her athletic step-daughter is a big dyke, with a big dog; and the pretty one doesn't want to talk to her. I don't blame her. I wouldn't either. And try to avoid speaking with her in anyway possible. I have a no tolerance policy for arrogant, spoiled brats. I'm sure she's had a hard life. Yeah right. And I'm Mother Teresa. On Tuesdays. If I was her husband, I'd have left a long time ago. I'd be livin in a log cabin right outside of Nowhere, Kentucky. With my dyke daughter, and her dog.

~g