Just got back from a more awkward day at work than i could ever expect. I thought last summer- balancing the inventory while my boss in the next room loudly discussed my good friend's mental health over the telephone- was bad. Well today folks, I found my boss' (different one) panties between the sheets of a bed I was changing, as well as a used condom in the garbage. Little bit too intimate, don't you think? No kidding. Her man is in town (actually it seems like he is only in town to take advantage of his girlfriends b and b, made himself right at home, didn't he?) to talk business with fellow music pros who happen to look like street people but speak like Simon Cowell. Today while planted in the dining room he started name dropping like the fucking blitzkrieg. Michael Jackson's estate this and Bruno Mars' cousin that. And then my co-worker retaliated: apparently her mum's boyfriend invented paypal (whaaaaaaaa?) This is the same girl who's boyfriend is 17 years older than her, who smokes like a fish and swears like Sarah Chezick.
Anyway hate to talk about my job so much. If I ever did anything else I might talk about that. We're having a dinosaur themed art party on Saturday. I'll keep yis posted
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