You’re Glowing

by

“Your eyes are all dewy and gorgeous.”

Aw.

Shucks.

It’s just topical ointment.

The eyes are just about healed.  I toyed with the idea of putting on a little bit of the make up this morning, but I got busy trying to manage my musical library.  Not a good idea before going to work.  I went from having oodles of time to looking up and having fifteen minutes left to get to work.

Good thing it’s a five-minute bike ride.

One more day of goop on the eyes and then I should be clear to go.  Back to the land of play make up. I miss my colors.  But I have had some nice compliments on my complexion, which makes me wonder if I should stop washing my face altogether.

I don’t think I could handle it though, I feel dirty and slightly greasy and my face is starting to break out a little from the ointment.  Not awful bad, but I don’t want to hatch a batch of pimples right now.

Isn’t nature great?

Grey hair and pimples.

You have to love it.

Apparently I am looking sexy on the FaceBook post on our work website, my picture still gets some comments.  Ok, people really, yes I am single, but no I am not interested in the silver fox, that’s the nicest way I can think to put it grandpa, in Michigan.

Or the guy in Houston.

What is it about distance that suddenly makes people bold?  Get them right up close and they lose their steam.  Oh, I still get flirted with, just no propositions coming my way at the moment.

Then again it was so busy today that I don’t think I could have flirted if I had wanted to.

I do think I missed my opportunity when I was yelling at the accountant.

I wasn’t actually yelling at the accountant.  He is an über meek, soft-spoken man, he’s so soft-spoken I have to turn off the stereo speakers when he talks to me and hush everyone around me.

He is, however, pushy via e-mail.

Where do you get the strength to yell at me via e-mail dude?  Your vocals cords all rested?

I hollered at my work e-mail when I opened it.  Five e-mails from him and a wad of invoices to do.  I just blurted out, “well, fuck you.”

Then I laughed, I am just doing the best I can.  If I get to it, I get to it.

I told my GM I am doing my best.  My best.

My best ain’t too bad.  I am now dubbing myself the double mint twin.

I am the only person who has done this not once, not twice, more than three, keep going, but four times.

Four.

I have done double bike designs.  I freaking did two this week!  I have done two couples at the same time.

Ooh.  That sounds scandalous.

I have done bike designs simultaneously with two couples.  Then I have designed two bikes for one person, twice.

Today, a gentleman bought himself a bike and his house guest one, no one in particular, just you know, I want a nice bike around for my house guests to enjoy when they are visiting.

Can I be your house guest?

My house guests get a cup of tea.

My co-worker joked about the business needing to get me out of invoicing, so I can just focus on selling bikes.  I was brought on to be the office person, do administrative work, file shit, pay bills, keep things organized.

I do that, oh yes I do, nobody else does.

AT ALL.

However, I also sell the pants off of bikes.

Yeah, I know that metaphor doesn’t quite work, you get my point.

I am still rather shocked that I am a good sales person.  I have no idea why.  I suppose it doesn’t matter, I just am.

I wonder what else I should sell?

Perhaps I should have been doing sales all along.  Who knows?  Not like I would have found out.  I have always looked down on sales people.

Not very nice of me I know.

I should know better than to snub something.  I end up doing the damn thing.

Hmmm.

I wonder what else I have said I would never do?  It would be a sort of handy list to see where I will be adventuring to next.

I am sort of in the hallway.

Damn, this fucker has been long.

I know my next adventure is in Paris.  I have no clue how it will all manifest.  But that it will.

Can I say, slight sidebar, that it is a little disconcerting to express to some one on a dating website that you are just going to up and move to Paris with no plan.

People sort of wig out at that.

Either I get the that is amazing or I get the, you are sort of crazy and I don’t think I am interested in going out with you.

Unless said person is a geriatric from the MidWest.

I should not have to leave the United States to get a date.

Granted, I know San Francisco is an odd amalgam of dating experiences, but sometimes I do wonder how it is that people actually couple up here.

Eh, who cares.  I have more important things to think about.

Like what will I wear tomorrow to match my make up?  I fell asleep listening to music and fantasizing about wearing high heels and dancing around in the fog.  Then this morning came and all that sexy energy dissipated in the morning shroud of fog and I just slipped on the Converse and left my face bare.

And the boy wasn’t where I was hoping he would be.

Ok, so I am slightly obsessed with some one.  All on the down low.  Some one I have had some interest in off in and on for a few months now.

I told Beth tonight that I just have to pull the trigger and say something.  Kill the fantasy.  I was hoping to do that tonight.  But he was nowhere to be seen.

Probably got lost in the fog.

Too bad, I was glowing and all.

 

 

 

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