I find great sport in politely crushing a man's ego. Boss-man decided to buy Wii Sport Resort: something that I would usually be deeply uninterested it, but he insisted I play. I proceeded to crush him on 14 on the 16 "Sports" it provides. Rematch? Sure. Crushed him again. I did so with a smile on my face and only slight mockery-- but I could tell that I was hurting him, so I did my best to console his bedraggled ego while significantly increasing the size of my own.
But I suppose I should talk more about my job. Today, I went through his closet and learned extraordinary things about men's fashion through the past three decades. It came in layers. The new, silk designer shirts were on top: most of these I kept. Then the short sleeved Hawaiian shirts, which I quickly discarded. I'm sure Goodwill will love them. Then I had to sit down and decide on the casual button downs. He loves them, so I kept the ones of good texture and colour-- but OH did the 80's and 90's bring some horrific palettes to fashion! I threw away his teals, purples and pinks. I got rid of his whitewashed pattens, and tried to shield my eyes from the neon green and pink swim trunks. Out went his puke yellow tops, along with the equally fascinating corduroy pants. I'm still not even a quarter of the way done: I need to have a talk with him about pants. I know absolutely nothing about men's pants (aside from the quickest way to remove them), and am not yet able to make a serious effort of weeding through them. The bright orange plaid kilt was spared, as was the leather vest and the satin lace teddy. Those have to have some great stories attached to them, and so I will accidentally let him stumble upon them when I'm around. I'm dying to know.
Crullers have become my enemy. I made the mistake of buying some mini ones at the market, and now I've been eating about 600 calories worth per day. I never at this much unless I'm depressed. Oh, wait-- Hello dear, you must be depressed. I have issues accepting this fact, and am therefore determined to ignore it and attribute the doughnut issues to my incredible need for all types of pleasure.
Speaking of pain, don't ever try to make Risotto. It's exceedingly difficult... though I'm happy to say, after 2 and a half hours, I suceeded in attaining the necessary texture. I rock.
But I suppose I should talk more about my job. Today, I went through his closet and learned extraordinary things about men's fashion through the past three decades. It came in layers. The new, silk designer shirts were on top: most of these I kept. Then the short sleeved Hawaiian shirts, which I quickly discarded. I'm sure Goodwill will love them. Then I had to sit down and decide on the casual button downs. He loves them, so I kept the ones of good texture and colour-- but OH did the 80's and 90's bring some horrific palettes to fashion! I threw away his teals, purples and pinks. I got rid of his whitewashed pattens, and tried to shield my eyes from the neon green and pink swim trunks. Out went his puke yellow tops, along with the equally fascinating corduroy pants. I'm still not even a quarter of the way done: I need to have a talk with him about pants. I know absolutely nothing about men's pants (aside from the quickest way to remove them), and am not yet able to make a serious effort of weeding through them. The bright orange plaid kilt was spared, as was the leather vest and the satin lace teddy. Those have to have some great stories attached to them, and so I will accidentally let him stumble upon them when I'm around. I'm dying to know.
Crullers have become my enemy. I made the mistake of buying some mini ones at the market, and now I've been eating about 600 calories worth per day. I never at this much unless I'm depressed. Oh, wait-- Hello dear, you must be depressed. I have issues accepting this fact, and am therefore determined to ignore it and attribute the doughnut issues to my incredible need for all types of pleasure.
Speaking of pain, don't ever try to make Risotto. It's exceedingly difficult... though I'm happy to say, after 2 and a half hours, I suceeded in attaining the necessary texture. I rock.
