0005What a miserable nasty cold week its been here in the big city. I wore long underwear for my brief commute three days out of five. Which is fine while waiting for a bus but a bit too warm and snuggy in the office as I wanted to nap by 2pm most days.

Too, the twenty-something office manager hates me and I feel — quite rightly so, that she’s requested maintenance to amp the heat in my office. I have a small fan running even in winter while others are freezing. The entire back wall of my office is a floor to ceiling window and that just radiates cold in everybody else’s office space…but not in mine. That boney-assed, straw-for-hair wench will pay; we’re moving soon and there’s a dark side of me that wants to rub her phone mouthpiece on my cock. Just a parting, secret gift. But that would be crazy. And tacky. And I am neither except when highly pissed off.

OH JOY OF JOYS: I began Christmas shopping last night as it occurs to me that next week is my shipping week for out-of-town family members. I went to MACY’s. I was a bit frazzled initially as to what to get mother but then I stripped away emotion, suitability, and thoughtfulness and my shopping went far easier. Every sales associate I encountered was friendly, accommodating, and quick. I was pleasantly surprised because one generally has to ask for a box, tissue, and a shopping bag beyond the standard WAL•MART plastic issue and I got all three without nary a question or sigh of disgust.

I saw a couple of things I wanted in their trim-a-tree shop but walked away even at 60% OFF. The Christmas stuff has been marked up so high that even at 60% off I left empty-handed. And I really don’t need anymore Xmas shit anyway. Some part of me always thinks “…oh, this glittered doo-dad will just add the final finishing touch to my holiday decor” when in practice my efforts never please me regardless of how many goddamn twinkle lights and miles of French-wired ribbon I wrap myself in. Meh.

I still haven’t connected with my neighbor for that ‘we should have a drink’ convo. Which is the perfect segue for you to think: “What are you waiting for…Christmas?” Which probably may be true in this one, isolated statistical instance. But let’s not tarry about my lustless love life over solo sofa wanks: let’s enjoy some ‘Christmas red.’

RED-SPEEDOS

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