Midnight Erotica

As much as I hate this expression I have to use it. I have a violent case of the Mondays. I'm honestly crippled with depression today because A- I know I won't be jogging on the beach anytime soon B-I'm not allowed to drink pomosas before noon whilst working and C- the owner is all over me to make sales calls.

Have I mentioned I hate sales calls? Well I do. I reallllly fucking hate them. I'd rather spend a week in a jail cell alone with J-Lo, Mark McGrath, and Antoine Dodson than make 1 cold call. Just explain this to me. Why would I want to call people while they're working, interrupt their work, and try to get them to do things they don't want to do? Not my idea of a good time. In fact, it's my own personal nightmare. These days my dreams consist of incredibly-erotic-dirty-novel-status-sex-dreams OR thrashing-in-my-sleep-wake-up-with-the-sweats-because-I'm-having-a-panic-attack dreams. Guess which one I prefer? Every cold call nightmare is then in essence robbing me of a night of erotica. Fuck that. Cold calls are ruining my life. Sue (the owner of the company) is on my ass everyday to make more and more calls. She makes me send in a list of the calls I make daily. Without fail, she always has something bitchy to say back. My anxiety level is at a code red. All because of cold calls. Pitiful. Last week was my first week of calls. Here are the responses Sue sent me regarding my daily call log:

We can try and meet tomorrow for a bit. Would like to see a few more calls made. How many are you making?

Stay on top of all the ones who tell you they have another agency. Also how many actually calls today?

Many of these names are not spelled correctly so always be ACCURATE

Ouch. Maybe I am dyslexic? But did anyone notice how she said "how many actually calls today"? Yeah.... not so accurate, are we? I'm now at a point where I can't figure out if I want to get fired or not. This job is obviously instrumental in our Great Escape  and.... you know... survival. But at what cost????? My midnight erotica? Ah hell no. Universe, can you hear me? Do you read my blog? All I need is about $30K to pick up and go. PLEASE send me $30K. I promise I will do good things in this world. Perhaps I should consider cold calling random people and asking for money? Eh?

Monday

I am completely repulsed by people who say things like "oh you have a case of the Mondays?" Ugh. If by that you mean am I still slightly hung over, I didn't have time to shower this morning (woke up at 7:35am when I have to leave by 7:50am- true story), and I just realized that I shaved my left leg twice (last night when I did take a shower) and not my right leg at all.... then yes, I most certainly do have a case of the Mondays. Or I would just say that I'm freaking tiiired- no need to give it a cute name. No one has ever accused me of being a morning person. In fact, (this is embarrassing) the only reason why I ever remember my cell phone, my breakfast, my morning drink, my lunch, my mid-day apple, a bra- is because my amazeballs boyfriend is a morning person. He recently chased after my car through our neighborhood to give me my cell phone- The mission was not a success (I was busy doing my makeup) but the act of heroism is still very much appreciated.

I am the first to admit I would be a complete disaster without the aid of this badass multitasker. But here is my question- how do I repay such selflessness? I originally thought that I was just having a tough first week adjusting to my new early start (8:30am), but 4 weeks later it's quite clear that I will be requiring his services daily. (If only I could work in a sponge bath into the equation...) My go-to move, and the most obvious is to repay him with mind-blowing sexual favors... But with my recent hygiene issues, I can't help but feel that he's the one doing the favor. So what do to? If I had any readers/followers I would seek your advice.... but I'm pretty I'm the only one who reads this diary blog. Which is kind of nice in way. I should enjoy this time before the fame and the fans start pouring in and I can't so much as order a cup of coffee without being accosted. I can say anything I want I suppose. Muslim people still scare me when I'm on an airplane and my right eye is slightly droopy. Also, I don't like horses.

Maybe the greatest gift of all would be to just shower. Every. Goddamn. Day. Bah the crazy things people do for love...