Waking up at 4:30 am sucks a big ding dong.  And by the time I finish this post and get it out to the world that first line is going to make no sense at all and you are all going to be like ‘what the fuck is up her butt’ and to that I will answer ‘absolutely nothing, and I prefer to keep it that way! Thank you very much’ 

I have had a twitch in my eye for oh….about a month now. And I am feeling a little crazy because of it. Yes I am feeling crazy because of the twitch and not for any other reason. I am obsessing over it because the last time I had a twitch it lasted for three months and it was in my ass…or ass cheek I should say. Having a twitch in your ass sounds like some kind of weird sexual voodoo and like I said above I prefer there to be nothing  in there. Aren’t you glad you are still reading? I bet you are. So this twitch lasted for three months in my ass cheek and it was so bad you could actually see it twitching. And let me tell you I made people watch it…and feel it. It was not awesome and a little shameful. And I never want to have that happen again and now that I have this eye twitch I feel like I need to gouge it out with a grapefruit spoon.

You know what else sucks having to bite your tongue when someone is trying to educate you all about twitter and you want to rub there face in your twitter account. And when they ask you if you know what a #hashtag #is #you #can’t #help #but #make #fun #of #them #at #that #very #moment.  But sometimes its hard to convey sarcasm…because that first tweet was laden with it…LADEN I say in my best Foghorn Leghorn voice.  Eh, bygones. I’m almost over it, but how do you reconcile someone telling you that you don’t TWEET enough at work when really you probably tweet WAY too much at work but none of it has anything to do with work and has more to do with how you want to slap the customers hands who just walked in and PATTED YOU ON YOUR BELLY. Ew, ew ew ew ew ew. Please stop touching me. If I don’t know you, you should never touch me anywhere especially on my belly. I would have prefered it if she had slapped my ass. And yes, I do realize that I may be contradicting my self here but slapping me on my ass is way different than a voodoo twitch in my ass…got it? I just want to make sure we are all clear here.

So that was my week at work last week. TWEET more and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD do something about your belly.

All of this has made me sleepy and I think I may go take a nap before my busy day at work…Tweeting.

And having naked tea parties with the dismembered mannequins.

I wonder if anyone would mind, or notice for that matter, if I just started wearing my pajamas to work.

It’s probably a really bad sign that every time I step foot into my work environment, I want to take a nap. Like overwhelmingly desirous of sweet sweet sleep. So I was thinking I should start looking for a new job but I am not sure who to contact about  this  international spy thing…because that is totally what I should be doing. Do you know there is not one post on Craigslist looking for a spy that I can find. I mean what the fuck do people use Craigslist for.

  Of course I am completely thankful for the current position I am in (napping and all at my desk)…but it just gets a little monotonous you know…seeing as though I had just been asleep already for like 7 hours or so. At home. In my bed.

Not to mention I am super qualified to be a spy. I don’t think I own one pair of sensible shoes. So it would make perfect sense when I show up in some frozen tundra looking all glam and freezing because that is totally what spies do. They load up the jet, fly off to remote places, that are usually freezing and are always under dressed because…HELLO it is a glamorous job, and you can not be glamorous wearing sensible shoes. Who the hell invented sensible shoes anyway. They need to be shot. Better yet I will unsheathe the knife that is strapped around my thigh (in slow motion of course) and with expert aim and a toss of my hair…I will lodge the knife between their eyes curing the world of sensible shoes.

(these are totally spy shoes)

You know what else spies do…they drink martinis and I love martinis. So naturally I would totally rock being a spy. Just look at my lunch box.

You can consider this my official Spy Job Application. I should say that I do not have 20/20 vision so I will be needing minor lasik surgery on my eyeballs and maybe a little laser resurfacing to help with the glamorousness thingy too.

Spies do not age.