I had another accident. I blacked out and I bonked my head on the Research Center’s marble floor. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by a group of five cute guys who were wheeling me over to the ER while talking to me with surprisingly sweet, sugary voices. I wonder if they realized how old I really was.
And while I’m pleased that I’m still mistaken for a teenager, the “young” impression could get really frustrating. Especially at work when some people refuse to take you seriously on the basis of seniority.
Anyway, back to the accident. They ran tests, stuck me with several needles, did a CT scan. Conclusion: I’m completely normal. There’s nothing wrong with me. But I wasn’t satisfied with that answer so I set up a Monday appointment with one of the (reportedly) cutest physicians here. He’s married, though. So for now, I only have a wealth of bumps and bruises sitting on top of each other on my scalp as a souvenir. Thank God for long hair.
I’m in *love* again.
The Bitch Goddess. I find myself falling for individuals regardless of gender or looks. And since I basically crush on their writing personalities, I don’t give a fuck about looks or whether I’m turning into an online lesbian.
I adore her Wanted: Boyfriend article. At this moment, I’m still busy fighting a friend (a guy this time) about who claimed Bitch Goddess first. He’s still smarting over the fact that I declared ownership of Vivian in my previous post and he’s determined to have this particular girl this time.
And before you, dear incidental reader, assume that I constantly search for random objects of affection, I happen to be happily committed. Wow, that sounds so corny and factual, hahaha! But it’s true. I call him PB, Peebski, Peebskins… it varies. Why? Because he’s pretty, and he’s a boy. So I’m not a lesbian after all.
Speaking of PB, I miss him. I have to wait for two more days before we could see each other. Why? Because I’m a busy girl with an eternally-busy social schedule. Also, this is Riyadh. Grr. Rich, hot/cold, dry, modern, backward, odd, and freedomless Riyadh where public dating is severely prohibited.
Good thing I’m crazy about him. Nothing but that would make me stick to a relationship when the environment’s this discouraging. Oh, and a liberated family helps. Go figure.
I’m done picking on Vinz for today (yes, beyotch, I use real names here) so I’ll continue Vin-choy-bashing tomorrow. I need to go home. I have a date with Rachelle but her boss, Ralph, is being a dick (as usual) by forcing her to work overtime today of all days. I’d love to give him a piece of my mind.