“Fuck the juice cleanse!”
“Fuck the juice cleanse?”
“Yes! Fuck it!” she said, and she threateningly waved her champagne glass at me.
I looked over at Caitlyn and Marlie. “Fuck the juice cleanse?”
“Fuck it,” said Marlie, nodding.
“Yep. Fuck the juice cleanse,” Caitlyn agreed.
“Hmm,” I said, mulling this over. “Fuck the juice cleanse…”
Those of a certain age, you will remember in 1988 when Van Halen released the second album with Sammy Hagar as the lead singer: ‘OU812′. Now, despite what you may have thought of the album itself (I know some of you have never gotten over the loss of David Lee Roth) what was undoubtedly cool was the title. I remember thinking, “WOW. It’s letters and numbers but YOU CAN SAY IT AS A SENTENCE! WOWWOWWOW!!!!” Not a lot of bands had done that before, and this sort of short-speak was new and unique.
Now of course, it is commonplace. ‘U’ has replaced the incredibly difficult and laborious spelling of ‘you’ and thank goodness someone came up with ’2′ as opposed to ‘to!’ I don’t know about you, but typing out that one other character to actually write the word was really bringing me down. Continue reading
“What’s your idea of a great first date?”
“Geesh, I don’t know.”
“Tracey. Come on,” she replied.
I sighed to myself.
Her next IM flashed up in my inbox. “Okay, just use this template: On a first date, I enjoy discussing _____ over _____ at _____.”
“I’m busy,” I replied.
“TRACEY. COME ON.”
“DO NOT ALL-CAPS ME.”
“YOU ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY.”
“No, YOU are driving ME crazy.”
“I’m coming over.”
“Omg. Please don’t.”
No response. She was already on her way.
No doubt about it. Lux was on a mission.
I was already sweating. I swiped the back of my hand across my brow and then took a sip of Bud Light in the hopes it would cool me down.
It did not.
The emails kept coming in. I tried to reply to them as soon as they arrived, but just as I’d press ‘send’ to one, another two or three would land in my inbox.
I was drowning at work.
The day after I’d returned from my West Coast training trip for the new part-time responsibilities my New Boss was allowing me to take on, I was given another person to support. So now, not only was trying to prove myself in the new role, I was once again assisting three Executives. As well as attempting to manage my duties as NY Site Leader of the Wellness Group, not to mention continue my very important post as President of the Fun Committee. In all the chaos, I’d completely ignored my position as the Co-Founder of the Gum Culture Task-Force. There was only one sad, stale, half-consumed pack of Watermelon Trident left.
“Not even a bootycall?”
“Not even a bootycall.”
“So you got nothin’?”
“I got nothin’,” I said, shaking my head.
“That’s a damn shame,” said Sean, as he took a sip of his Guiness. “No one to drunk-text.”
“Nope, no one to drunk-text,” I sighed. I took a sip of my Bud Light. “Well, except My Ex, of course. I drunk-text him all the time.”
Sean gave me a look.
He was tall. He had a fantastic smile. And when he lifted his beer bottle to his mouth, his t-shirt sleeve rose up and we could see a glimpse of the tatoo that circled his upper arm.
This guy was HOT.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” laughed Marlie.
“I know,” I said and rolled my eyes. “It’s totally ridiculous.”
“I hope it will be fun.”
“Of course it will be fun.” I peered into the candlelit bar. “We’re here together. We’ll have fun no matter what.”