Chirky

The first post is always so awkward. Even if I were to slam a few back it wouldn't ease the tension, because this is totally a one-sided conversation. And I probably wouldn't slam anything back anyway, since Roger and I are both unemployed and can't afford to buy such frivolous things as Midori or Rum. And even if we could, we wouldn't know how to mix ourselves a drink. And since we don't have the internet and its endless supply of recipes, much more a computer at home, we would have to walk a mile to the nearest library, and I'm much too lazy to do that just for a drink.

So! Let's talk about me, my favorite topic.

My name is Jes, which you might have already guessed. I am married to a delicious graphic designer named Roger. We currently live in Dallas, Texas, which we lovingly refer to as That Flat Slab of Concrete.

I used to work as a paralegal for a law firm in Texas, where I was employed by womanizing attorneys who made comments such as, "Why would I bring a date to the party? That's like bringing sand to the beach."

NO MORE. So, I am unemployed. But looking. I am quite used to being caught in embarrassing situations. I am sure this site will chronicle several of them. Like smelling your armpit when your boss walks in your office.

Things I like include: sushi; the instant gratification you get from watching entire seasons of back-to-back episodes of 24; celebrity gossip magazines, especially Us Weekly on that page where they say "Stars: They're Just Like Us" and then show them Crossing Sidewalks! or Picking Their Nose While Driving!; tulips; correction tape in that clear container that you can run across your paper, making very straight lines; playing Settlers of Catan; Oh Baby lipglass by MAC; Chinese lanterns; and hot pink highlighters.

Things I don't like include: the word "moist"; bad grammar; hearing other people pee; Gwyneth Paltrow; narrow-minded people; and gorging on an entire half-gallon of Rocky Road ice cream, just because you have nothing better to do. Not that I did that recently or anything, I'm just saying. Also, I don't know which is worse: being able to see your pantyline or being able to see the shadows on your slacks from the cottage cheese-effect on your butt.

That's just gross.