Wednesday, September 12, 2012


"A Phish may love a Byrd Senior, but whre would they live?"
I have named the crush. Byrd. Because I am Phish, and he (when I named him) seemed unattainable.

So girls have a huge problem with overthinking. I am no exception. I flirt. Like I breathe. Its natural. And guys flirt back. So its difficult for me to tell if they are just flirting because I am, or if they are really interested.

So. To that overthinking thing.

He said, one day as he was leaving, 'hopefully I'll see you soon'. And when he leaves, he gives me a wave and calls out to let me know he's going. Now, I know that I know whats going on. And other people realise that too. But his work ends when it ends. And he can just go home. He is a subcontractor, and I am a grunt. He doesn't nee my approval. Then again, I do tend to be friendly and ask him what time he's taking off. So maybe he's just responding to that. Maybe he just likes that someone shows an interest in him. Maybe its a subconscious response.

He smokes too. Normally a huge turn off. Except he smokes rollies, and they smell kind of earthy. Which I like. But he has smokers teeth. Again, bad teeth are normally a turn off. Those 2 are usually serious deal breakers for me. But when I noticed those, I was like 'whatever'.

Anyway. The other day there was a malfunction at work, and there was yoghurt EVERYWHERE. We were picking up broken tubs and emptying them down the drain, when he dropped one. And it splattered yoghurt all over his legs, chest and face. And he just paused for a moment while I giggled. The look on his face was clearly 'oh fuck off', but not directed at me. I made a joke that he was wearing black, and it would show up and look dodgy as hell. Oh yes. I made a cum joke. Thinking back, I could have segued into a dating joke 'that usually happens after the third date' type of thing.

Anyway, he went and cleaned himself up. And when he came back to work, he was cleaning the robot. And he stood up directly under the mechanism and smacked his head on it. Poor bugger is the man version of Bridget Jones.

Sunday, September 02, 2012

Friday, August 31, 2012


I'm 29 years old. Single. Female.
More brains than beauty. Wicked sense of humor and an insatiable sexual appetite. And I can cook. Damn near the perfect woman. But I'm happy to be single. I like my bed to myself. Well, as 'to myself' as having 3 cats gets.

And I've lived life.

So it doesn't make sense that I am suddenly incapacitated by a crush. Seriously. An idle interest in a guy has turned into a full blown butterflies-in-stomach, dropping things,             dumbfounded, speechless, blushing, nervous crush. And I know where it  all started.

Watch this video. Not because its funny, that's just a perk. But listen for the noise the pig makes at the end.        

He made a moderately funny joke, and topped it off with THAT noise. And I knew I'd be in trouble.

Is he stunningly good looking? No. But he's nice. And very smart. And he has busted me in the throes of pre vomit. Oh yes. It wouldn't be me if I didn't vomit on or near a crush.
I watch him now. When he's around. I try not to, but I'm afraid that someone will notice. I don't think I'm  obvious, but I can't be sure. And I have to think of conversation starters before I can talk to him.

And I won't do anything. Not that I'm shy. But because everything about this guy screams 'engaged'. I have never spoken to him about anything other than his work, but when my instincts are saying something this specific, they are very, very rarely wrong.

So I shall go on dropping things, randomly blushing, stuttering, smiling for no reason and humming to myself. Let's see if anyone notices the difference...

Friday Fuzzies

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Sundays Sexy Seven - Animals

To make up for last week, this one has a few extras.

Friday, August 24, 2012