That’s my kind of wine bottle!
Sorry,Not Sorry – #sorrynotsorry
What’s that- you live in San Francisco? You work in a start-up? You’ve got this sweet live/work loft sitch in SOMA? Join the club – we meet on Tuesdays, at Nicks Crispy Tacos. Oh wait, you were at the last one, right? Yeah… you asked the bartender about the bourbon selection then ordered a PBR…
We are united in this fair city by more than our crazy jobs, happy hour and meet-up filled schedules, and inability to contain ourselves when the weather gets above 75’. We’re united in the surprisingly FEW things us San Franciscans actually do ourselves..
We Need to Talk About What Happened At My Desk Today
If you’ve ever met me you know I’m always slightly NSFW. I swear, and I’m good at it: “Well damn” and “shit” are for beginners, I like to get creative (picture a redheaded Debora Morgan, sans gun). In addition to the swearing, I’m loud, I may or may not have issues with authority, and my neckline isn’t always work appropriate… BUT I’m usually pretty good about keeping the contents of my computer screen PG/PG-13 (at least at the office). Until today, that is..
It started with this:
You know those friends that are so amazing that part of you wishes you could shove them inside your body and keep them there with you forever? The ones that know you better that you know yourself? Well one of those sent this to me last week. Bitch. Not only did she send it to me in an email she has continued to send it to me, and I her. It has more or less replaced “LOL” in out chat conversations:
E: Portland was great, super nice weather
S: I was actually bored this weekend! I planned it that way. So good.
E: Lazy.
S:
E: STOP SENDING HIM TO ME!! RDJ TURNS MY BRAIN OFF!
etc.
Today a friend and I decided she needed a taste of her own medicine – and set off to find a .gif that would shut her down like RDJ does me.
Ladies- you’re welcome in advance for the flurry of back and forth links that flew through our chats and onto my work screen:
and
and
Suffice it to say, I found it very hard to get back to actual “work” afterwards, especially since sending them all to my coworkers made complete sense at the time…
Sorry, not sorry.
Continue reading We Need to Talk About What Happened At My Desk Today
Gettin Mah Hair Did
I’m running a bit behind, can I offer you a jar of beer while you wait? #dontmindifido #gettinmyhairdid #finally
When People Tell Me “Stay Hydrated”
I’m Only Having Two Drinks Tonight – and the ones at the office don’t count
Why it’s Tuesday you say? We should celebrate!
Then comes the next days hangover.
You crawl out of bed, at 8:30, no one will miss you first thing. Brushing your teeth is too loud. Oh happy Advil!
Wearing yesterdays makeup, a sloppy bun, and legging as pants, you slink to your car. Fuck you MUNI. You probably shouldn’t be driving, but fuck you MUNI. You pull into the overly priced parking lot across from your office, (you should really stop driving EVERY day; LYFT is great in the morning, so’s UberX when you can get it. You refuse to get regular Uber just to go to work. Except that one time… And that other one. Fuck you MUNI) and you proceed to your red bricked, exposed ceiling, open floor planned, office.
In your offices full stocked kitchen you stop and think about your life, and think about your choices, while you debate making coffee, using the keurig, or the nespresso. Thank GOD there is Kombucha in the fridge. You need a coconut water, and a sando. The office doesn’t get breakfast on Wednesday. Shit.
You chat a little with your coworkers. You make a crack about your poor life choices to your office bestie. And then you sit.
Your first two hours are a blur. You check your Facebook, your favorite tumblrs, your email. You gchat how hungover you are to EVERYONE you know. Check your email. Get another coffee. Update your status: “Hit the sauce a little hard last night. Ouch.” Everyone comments. Comment strings are your own personal chat rooms where everyone you went to high school with can see how amazingly witty you are, and be jealous of your fantastic life.
What did you agree to do last night? Your entire weekend is now booked. Face palm.
Your whole body aches. You debate postmating yourself a sandwich for lunch. Nah. You’ll eat the catered office food, why waste your money? You watch two games of ping pong. Your friend sends you a youtube link that is amazing and profound. You send it to everyone you know. You check your email. You buy those moccasins you saw last night online, overnight shipping, you want them now.
You finally start to feel like yourself again; it was that afternoon Cento and the second coconut water.
You’re getting ready to head home for a quiet night. You check your email.
Impromptu happy hour at Tres. Ugh! Sure, you’ll go. But you’ll only have two drinks.
Emmywhee Can't Shut Up 