Geoff sent me a link a couple of days ago to a picture of a woman wearing a bra made of bacon. It was totes awesome. He said that whenever he sees bacon, he thinks of me. Obviously, this is my mission in life. That picture made me get a package of Family Farm bacon out of my freezer. I do not intend to wrap it's fatty, salty goodness around my boobies, though. I'm going to eat it. Besides, even though my Family Farm bacon is very substantial, it's not going to hold my boobies up.
Though, apparently, I am finally losing weight in the chestular region. I only notice because Leftie is no longer constantly threatening to break free from her bonds. The World's Worst Wing Woman said it has been happening for a while and it's really noticeable. Then again, she's the one who was implying I had an eating disorder after I'd lost about 15 pounds. *insert eye-rolling here* The only other person to say he thinks I've had boobular shrinking is one of my gays. If anyone knows, it's him. He's always feeling me up. In other body-related news: I think my ass is coming back. I am heartened by this.
I ended up being on standby to go in to work today. And I had to go in. I have to call in at 1:00 tomorrow to make sure they don't need me. There is absolutely no reason they should. There is no reason they should need to be in tomorrow, either. Cute Coworker said they're going to work tomorrow for political reasons -- our boss wants to make it look good to the owner. I KNEW IT! There is no reason for these people to be working 12 hours a day. They only do it so the boss thinks they're working oh-so-hard. What. Ever.
There really wasn't much for me to do today. I kept asking what I could do next, because if you're making me come in on a Saturday, you damn fucking well better keep me busy. I could have left after two or three hours, but the boss kept finding stupid little things for me to do. It seemed as if he felt that they'd suddenly need me if he said, "Okay, go home."
Having to go to work made me turn down Muffy Willowbrook's invite to a BBQ. I'm such a pussy. I had to force myself to go out last night to see The Slats. And shit, it took me four glasses of wine to get to the point where I didn't want to punch someone. I would have loved to have hung out with Muffy, Commander, Bestie and Zennifer (and Bestie's son!), but I've not had much energy to do anything since I got home other than bake. And the baking is a totally zen, relaxation thing for me. I made banana bread and I'm just now finishing up chocolate chip cookies. God damn, the cookies are good, too, y'all. Crisp on the bottom, soft on top and all warm and full of melty, chocolate goodness. I can bake some motherfucking cookies, dammit. If you will be seeing me in the next day or so, count on getting some cookies.
I can't believe I'm on call for tomorrow. Christ.