I started a new job yesterday, which was a huge relief on my overburdened psyche, having sat on my ass for the past five months, earning not nearly enough on unemployment. It's far too soon to gauge how this freelance assignment will be as my workload won't become available until next week. In the interim, I'm content to sit at my desk and surf the internet for a nice hourly rate.
I wish I had something sexy to write about but my life isn't all about orgasms and blow jobs. It'd certainly be exhausting if it were. So you'll have to suffer through my plodding posts about PMS, since I'm certain that is exactly what I'm experiencing right now. I have never been more cranky. Not even the threat of being disciplined for taking out my annoyance on someone could mollify me. Trust me, he tried last night via text message and I just deleted the conversation, rolling my eyes like marbles. Men are clueless when it comes to the hormonal rages of women; when we express we are grouchy, do yourselves and us a favor - leave us alone. Maybe bake us a pan of fresh brownies with chocolate chunks, but I'd prefer you just go away for a week, because I will do nothing but snap and froth about how you're not giving me enough space.
I am coming to accept that perhaps I'm not as interested in this Daddy as I wanted to be. It's a good thing we haven't fucked; I am seeking out methods of hasty escape. It doesn't help that my sister met him last weekend and thought him "dorky." Yes, thirty-something year old women still use that term, especially when it's painfully appropriate.
