Careerist

Ever since I was young, I never imagined I wouldn’t be working for a living. Marriage and children were out of the question. I only had visions of me sitting in an office, behind a desk, wearing a snazzy suit and having a series of minions reporting to me. I was always a careerist.

A career should be more than a job, but a sense of self. Some people develop their identities based on the people they’re around, the clothes they wear, their beliefs (religious, political, etc.) and other elements.

For me, my career captures everything in one package. I get to do what I’m good at, hang with the people I want, attend events I want to go to, get perks that few people receive, dress up and “act” like someone else for a night, and live the lifestyle to which I have accustomed myself to.

And, my career helps me pay the bills because I also have think practically (I ain’t stupid).

Leona Lewis is ruining my relationships

Even though Leona Lewis is a newly-minted singing popstar and loved by millions, she is ruining my life. Whenever I listen to her music, the relationships in my life go from really good to horribly bad in approximately three minutes and thirty seconds.

Things went ugly with N on a day of a swim meet when I was playing her CD in my car. Things got screwed up with J on a midday break when I heard her latest single on the radio. Things got messy with my Crazy in the middle of the night when I watched her newest video on television.

One time is coincidence. Three times (and counting) isn’t.

So, now whenever I hear her music, I make sure it’s when I’m single and don’t have anyone in my life whose relationship can be screwed up by one of her songs. To top it off, her new single is called "Happy."

Really, Leona? Happy? You can be really cruel, you know that? Bitch.

Single complaints

There are a few people I know who let it be known they are not particularly happy being single. They don’t want to be alone. They whine there are slim pickings, complain about their relationship status, claim they want a mate... then go out and fuck some random stranger.

In other words, they’re not lonely. They’re horny. They want to get off. It’s an endorphin rush. And when the rush dissipates, they’ll feel alone again. This cycle continues until, one day, they’ve turned 40 and are still alone.

I understand how they feel because I’ve been both single for most of my life. What I don’t understand is the complaining. I know it’s hard out there, but I work at it and don’t sit on my ass waiting for things to happen.

In the end, I’d like to say a few things to these people: Either keep on dating until you find someone who you like (there is someone out there for you), change your criteria/lower your standards, or just shut the fuck up because no one wants to hear about your relationship status because there are many other people in the same situation.

A touch of ADD

Because of the nature of my work, I have to be able to do a million things at once and do them well. It’s as if I have to have a touch of ADD in order to make it in my industry.

In fact, while writing this, my mind wanders off in a million directions; I am writing other posts simultaneously as well as editing some work, following up on other emails, checking Twitter, avoiding someone on MSN because they pissed me off this week, researching for material online and registering a Rowenta handheld fabric steamer.

Ideally, I want to do other things, but I’m only one person. There isn't enough time in the day. If I train my hands and feet to work at the same time, I could accomplish a multitude of projects faster but I’d rather not because that would take ADD a little too far. That is, unless I train someone to do it for me...

Thin lips, thick lips

Being someone who doesn’t kiss and tell, I’ve come across some sets of lips that don’t know what they’re doing. Sometimes their shape doesn’t matter, while other times it does.

Thin top and bottom lip: it feels like you’re practically kissing teeth and that isn’t pleasant.

Thin top and thick bottom lip: is one of the better options because you can easily suck on the bottom lip while... never mind.

Thick top and thin bottom lip: is an awkward combination and would only work if your top lip was thin and bottom lip was thick because the shapes would result in a ying-yang situation.

Thick top and bottom lip: it feels like a suction cup and I should know because mine are like that.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter what the shape of them are, as long as they know what they’re doing.

Jeff Lewis is crazy good

On the TV show, Flipping Out, Jeff Lewis is a houseflipper extraordinaire. He's very good at managing to turn homes from meh to marvelous in order to sell them and make a tidy profit. The show is a fun, vicarious look at someone in the beautiful world known as the interior design industry.

But, there's also a lot of ugliness that goes on and most of it is attributed to Lewis himself. He comes across as egomaniacal, a selfish bastard, a pain in the ass to work for, a ridiculous perfectionist, and not very personable (probably due to a case of a non-diagnosed form Asberger's Syndrome).

And that's what makes it fun to watch.

True, he might ham it up for the cameras, but there you have to give credit to someone who doesn't care about being ugly (figuretively) in front of millions of people, ready for them to judge every action the person does. Who can do that and not care about the outcome? Apparently, him.

And, for that, I think he's crazy good.

Dressed in black

My clothing collection is filled with a series of classics. Most of the pieces are black, with a bit of blue, grey, white and cream mixed in. It’s seasonless and I can wear it year round.

When I was going out with Crazy, I was told I needed to wear more colour. So, I did. A change would do me good. A lot more green and orange was worn on my body.

It took me some time to adjust. Whenever I wore something different, I got called out on the sartorial selection because everyone knew the clothes weren't mine (and not my style).

Now, that's no longer the case. My classics are back in play and I no longer have to feel like I’m in costume because of someone else. It’s back to black.

And, who the fuck wants to dress up in a colour resembling pea soup?