Frumpy lady surprises
If you're in need of one of those moments where your faith in humanity is briefly refreshed and you wipe back a sudden tear as you contemplate the beauty which each and every one of us is at some point capable, you'd do worse than to click here. Sure, it's a little manipulative and a lot manufactured, but, you know what? It's Monday. This is about as good as it's gonna get.
Are you already complaining about Mondays? Jesus, man!
Are you guys in an office together or is this collaboration virtual?
HOUSEKEEPING
I hate Mondays. The way Garfield hates Mexicans.
Fucking Thursdays.
1. Will we always have to remember these horrid passwords? Seriously, if the password is the name of my cat or mom combined with numbers, I'm lost.
2. A friend was just upset that I suggested that maybe being mouth-raped would cheer him from his Monday blues. (Seriously, it's cheered him up in the past.)
3. A week and two days ago I was on the Red Sea with my [country redacted] royalty lover, swimming, floating and posing for pictures. Now I'm a city with weather only outgloomed by its citizenry.
4. Once upon a time I sent a screen shot to two editors at a once-great website. Those editors then looked at the "Task Manager" bar at the bottom of the page and bandied about how sad it was that I had to deal with profit/operations/logistics spreadsheets and reports while they sat around talking about celebrity vagina. They copied me on it, thinking it would break my self-esteem, not realizing that I had none. They know nothing of the misery that is Monday, yet continue throughout the years to write about it.
5. MORE PIRATE COVERAGE. FIND EVERY ANGLE! LANE? WHERE THE HELL IS KENT?
6. Mouthrape Mondays!
WOW.
What is the pay for the Weekend Editor position? After careful consideration of your content choices this past, I feel uniquely qualified.
Haha, Alex, it's your favorite song.
My dream journal is supposed to be CONFIDENTIAL.