Last hearts game ever (or until I get laid off and have to temp again)

I beat the pants off Michele and Ben, but as per usual, Pauline KILLED me. That bitch.

My first major feat of the day

I went from zero to sexidelic in one band.

The band, of course, being Mucky Pup.

Would someone hire me already?

Seriously. Hurry up. I need to buy these.

A temporary cure for boredom

If you don't know MetaSpy, it pulls search term requests from search engines, makes a list and updates it every fifteen seconds. I seriously watched it for two hours on Friday (no, I don't have anything to do at work). Anyway, after I weeded out all of the kiddie porn requests (ew), I found these gems:

gerald ford died today he was eaten by a pack of wolves
torture tit personal ads
country singer with stutter
"nifty archives"
"Free Gyno pics"
World's Biggest Penis

There you have it folks. This is what people who surf the web are most interested in. And kiddie porn.

It's just another one of your Jedi mind-tricks

Nothing I can say will do this justice. Just go there, already.

What I learned last weekend on my trip to DC

My Flamingos (aka the girls I met at summer camp a lifetime ago), all have fabulous tits. Except Erika. I suspect they're fabulous, but she wouldn't show us. Holly's are the best, though.

We are all loud during sex. In fact, we are all loud during church, but I learned that in middle school.

There is a silver kitchen device you can put oil into and spray(!) on things.

At some department stores, you have to check your guns, bows and arrows before you can enter.

Abby's husband Andy doesn't really want me to lick his face, but it's okay if I pretend to for a picture.

I'm still afraid of heights.

In some circles, the Flamingos and I are known exclusively as "the readers".

Some people go to bars for the oxygen, not the booze.

I shouldn't bend over in my hoochie-mama denim skirt.

Sometimes earrings bigger than your head are lighter than ones that aren't.

You can drive the wrong way down a three-lane one-way street with oncoming traffic and live (although I don't recommend it).

Abby's husband knows which sex toy I have. And that I broke it.

It is nearly impossible for a group of girls to stop singing Hot in Herre once one person starts it.

It's not as easy to forget past loves as one might think, even if the new love is everything you've ever wanted.

Not everyone thinks Appetite for Destruction is one of the top five albums ever recorded.

When taking a dirt-cheap bus ride, you get what you pay for.

Farts=fun.

The Flamingos are the sweetest, smartest, sexiest, sassiest group of women ever to cross the Mason-Dixon line.

Regarding Old Navy

I used to be hip. I used to be cool. Well, truth be told I was always a dork, but I hid it behind funky dresses, enormous shoes, bright red hair and some strategically-placed silver jewelry. And I hid it quite well - the boyfriend thought I was cool for at least three months before he noticed. But not anymore.

Suddenly, I have dirty blond hair that is usually pulled into a ponytail or messy bun-thing, barely any makeup or jewelry, and the worst part of it is - Old Navy. I own so many items of clothing from Old Navy that on any given day, there are at least three pieces of it on my person. I have this, this, these, these, this, this, this, this, these and these - and that's only from the website!

Maybe it's the whole corporate thing - I mean, I wore pigtails and overalls to work at my last job. Constant interviewing and temping required me to (at the very least) lose the nose ring. And slave wages don't buy the overpriced-but-so-cute-I-want-to-die crap at Urban Outfitters. The red dye came out while I was on vacation. So it all makes perfect sense. I still miss the crazysexycool me that used to turn heads in the East Village, though.

Everything I need to know about the male species I learned in Kindergarten

Boys are yucky.

Looking for a new career?

Someone did a Google search on "suckologist" and guess which site is the only one that came up? You got it! Also, when I tried it myself, Google suggested I might really be looking for "sucrologist", which, if you don't know, is someone who collects sugar packets. No, really. If you don't believe me, see for yourself.

I think my Grandma is a sucrologist.

Betty when you call me, you can call me Al

Nothing makes me crazier than when someone who is barely even an acquaintance of mine calls me “Jess”. If you can count our interactions on one hand, and you have yet to see me naked, it's three syllables. Jess-I-Ca.

Faith in humanity: restored

If you don't know me, then you don't know that my biggest beef with the male gender is street harassment. (DISCLAIMER: back in the days when I was, inexplicably, a chick magnet, I was harassed once or twice by women, so the boys don't have the market completely cornered.) Anyway, as I walked down my block this morning, I saw the older Latino men hanging out in front of the bodega, like they do every morning. To my shock and horror, the 16-year old girl who lives on my floor walked by and was greeted with leering and words I cannot make out because they were in Spanish. She blushed, put her head down and quietly walked by. Behind her was a big, hunky fireman-looking guy. He glared at the older men and said “Yo, that’s too young for you”. While I would have preferred a “she’s” to a “that’s”, it made me happy nonetheless. I even smiled at him as we walked by each other, and he smiled back in an uncreepy, nonthreatening way. I guess the boys on the block don’t all call out “Mommy” when a pretty girl walks by.

A conversation with my doctor

Doc: How long have you been having the headaches?

Me: Two months.

Doc: How often?

Me: Everyday. Sometimes twice a day.

Doc: How long do they last?

Me: About an hour.

Doc: How do you treat the pain?

Me: I don’t. I just wait to for it to go away.

Doc: Do you think you have a brain tumor?

Me: Umm.

Me: Well.

Me: The thought has crossed my mind, I guess.

Doc: What time of day do you usually get them?

Silly, silly Celestial Seasonings

Pandas don't drink tea.

Regarding food

My boss is oddly obsessed with food. Other people’s. He, on the other hand, eats the same breakfast every day. Yogurt. And the same lunch. Grilled chicken over romaine lettuce. Cherry tomatoes. Croutons. Lowfat Catalina dressing on the side. Two bags of Baked Lay’s potato chips. Diet Coke. I know because I usually have to order it for him. Dinner, I’m not there for.

At first, I thought he was just trying to get me to eat at the company cafeteria. I figured, he’s the CFO, he knows how much money they’re paying for it – naturally he wants to encourage people to eat there. On my first day of work, he extolled the virtues of the café, and interrogated me about my lunch when I returned. He wanted to know where I went (Subway), what I had (6-inch veggie patty with horseradish, Baked Doritos, Diet Coke) and how much it cost ($5.79). He then explained I could get the same thing at the cafeteria for at least a dollar cheaper. Duly noted.

The next morning, he stopped by my desk and picked up the Zone bar I was getting ready to eat for breakfast. After reading the back, he asked how often I ate them, and if my intention was to lose weight. When I explained it was more a matter of time, he led me through the breakfast menu at the cafeteria.

Last week, he was on a food tear. When I returned from Café 508 with my grilled chicken salad, he nearly squealed when he asked where I had gotten it and how much it cost. He could barely contain himself. He called Jeff over to look at my salad, exclaiming “Look at how much chicken they put on that!”. Then he shifted gears. He wanted to know where Jeff had lunch. McDonald’s. What he had. Chicken nuggests. Meal? Yes? Supersized? Yes. Anything else? A cheeseburger – he only ate half. Why? He dropped it on the floor. Who did he go with? Peggy. What did she have? Big Mac Meal. Supersized? No. Hey Jessica, what kind of dressing is that on the salad? Is it Lowfat?

I know there’s a link between food and sexual appetite, and I really don’t want to entertain any thoughts that might have to do with my boss and sex (ewww), but I’m thinking someone’s a little bored with their lunch, if ya know what I mean.

Good morning Angels

So the general consensus is that men prefer the action movie, while women like the Steel Magnolias. I would like to refute that. You see, we women like explosions, fight scenes and guns just as much as the next guy - we just think they're a lot more fun when the girls are doing it. And really, isn't everything more fun when there are girls involved?

Say what you will, critics. I found Charlie's Angels 2: Full Throttle to be delightfully fluffy cheese, and I loved every minute of it.

On a related note, Fametracker just did Drew Barrymore's Fame Audit. Funny stuff.

And dear Lord! It's like they melted Demi Moore down and started over.