Fuck you day 15, fuck you right in the face.
I was wrong, and now God is punishing me. So what do I do now? Apologise profusely in the vain hope I can go back to feeling like I did yesterday? I AM SORRY! I'm sorry for thinking this would be easy. I'm sorry to Tyler for saying he was over-dramatic, I'm sorry! Today.... It has been hell.
This morning wasn't too rough.I got out of bed way too late, with the mindset of "fuck you alarm, it's Thursday, I've got the day off, and not going to Vintage for hours." It's Wednesday. Even when you're not in the midst if a hellish celibacy there's no time to think about the man downstairs when you're running around trying to shower, put a suit on, and get to work in 15 minutes. It just doesn't happen.
Due to this, I failed to notice that the old boy has come back to life. Resurrected from death, he's come out of his coma.
I got to work just on time. The company that we share our office with have hired an intern that resembles Lucy Liu - gulp. Fortunately for me, I've got a lot on today (due to my impending 4 days off) starting with the arduous task of interviewing for a new Financial Controller. This means I'll be locked in the meeting room all morning with really boring men talking about figures, and money - go back to sleep Cocky McSexface, there's nothing here for you today.
Surely, getting through to lunchtime would be easy?
Not so. My interviewee turned up promptly at 10am, 6ft tall, long blonde hair, and resembling Cameron Diaz - that's right; if Drew Barrymore turned up now, I'd have the whole of Charlie's Fucking Angels in my office. Smite me, oh mighty smiter.
She looks incredible. I've always had a thing for those high-waisted pencil skirts, when you combine it with a white shirt that's probably a bit too see-through, and definitely unbuttoned too far, most men would run through a brick wall to get to you. I'd run straight through the sun.
I couldn't get up to show her out. I sat calmly in my seat whilst my Managing Director remarked "really nice to meet you, we'll be in touch, Chris will show you to the exit" No. I fucking won't. I didn't explain myself, how could I?
I had to skulk out to lunch immediately. I didn't trust myself to get too far,definitely not to Borough Market, where women congregate as if the buildings are made from chocolate, and Gerard Butler films.
I barely made it out of then front door.
In my rush to get away from 'Lucy Liu,' the Internet (where there is a phenomenal amount of pornographic material,) and work, I ran straight into a young girl who was coming in to see the recruitment consultancy downstairs. She comfortably had the biggest pair of tits I've ever seen in my life and me running into them full pelt didn't help one bit... I removed two buttons from her shirt, rendering her almost half naked. "I'm sorry!" I squealed like a pre-pubescent 13 year old boy, before leaving the scene of the crime at full sprint.
There are women everywhere today. Lunchtime was painful. I'm at the point of the film where every girl Josh Hartnett sees is naked (in his mind) I can't go on like this.
The Japanese girl that works at the local sandwich shop seems overly friendly today, she is stunning, but I don't want this sort of attention now - I wanted it 3 months ago when I first saw her and was behaving like I would do on Richard Harris's stag do, with Tom Jones as my wingman. I hate this, I really really hate it.
I've locked myself in the boardroom for the rest of the afternoon. I've complained that I can't concentrate (true) in the office due to the noise (untrue - it's the tits.) I'm staying here until 5.30pm when I can go home and hide for 25 days.
It's less than a week until it's day 21. The time whenTyler said 'things get better'
Less than a week?? Not happening. I'm carjacking the first Delorian I see on the way home, straight to 88mph, and I'm time travelling directly to day 40.
Fuck another 25 days like this.
