Oh heavens.

I just sit down to write a big long quality post (ha) and then I get beckoned by my husband to do something highly important.

Beckoned.

Does anyone say that anymore?

I just said “oh heavens” too.

Please, please send me back to Kuwait.

It’s happening.

The rednecks are infiltrating my life. Stop the madness!

Okay, anyway…

This week I decided something very important:

I can’t trust anyone for advice except for my sister.

Yep. It’s true.

I get so tired of the stuff people tell you to do that they’d actually never do themselves, you know? “Oh you should totally talk to that major hot guy, Sue. So what that you have 57 cats crawling around your studio apartment and you haven’t showered in 3 days. Go! Go flirt with that guy!”

Okay- we all know how the above story is going to end, so why give poor Sue such awful advice!? So she can go hide in her cat menagerie for the next 3 years!?

Alright, so you get my point. I like people that give real, raw advice.

Such as, “Sue. You can’t go talk to that guy. You must first shower and board 53 of your cats because your studio apartment smells like cat piss.”

here’s the story…

So I’m still new at work. Not only that, but I don’t really know anyone in the area where we live. So- yeah, I’m pretty much a bonafide new kid loser that sits in the corner of the office eating paste.

Well, not really- but you know the type- and apparently I’m becoming the type.

Anyway, so I brought leftovers for lunch a couple of days ago. No big deal, right?

Oh guys, I almost had a freaking panic attack! I literally had a crisis at my desk. It was sort of like this-

Do I go heat up my lunch and eat in the break room ALL ALONE like a paste eating loner loser

OR

do I heat up my lunch in the break room and bring it back to my cube and stink up the joint because I’m too afraid to eat ALL ALONE where I should?

Crisis, guys! Crisis!

So- I turn to my only reliable source of sound advice: P.

See, P fully understands my odd ways. Most people would be all positive and cutesy and “You can do it! Go eat in the break room! It’s not loserish. It’s cool! In fact- maybe you’ll make a friend!”

P? yeah, she’s not like that. She’s practical and useful. We sent several texts back and forth. They’re displayed for you below:

Me: Okay so I feel like an idiot. I brought my lunch but I have to heat it up. I don’t want to sit alone in the break room like a loser but I also don’t want to sit at my desk and smell up the office! I so wish you were here. Can you believe I might skip lunch because I’m a moron? What should I do!?

P: As must as I would love you to fill up your tummy, I think it might be awkward if you eat by yourself alone in there. Maybe just a granola bar today? ha ha. In a week once you’re moved in you can avoid these situations by quickly driving home and eating with me and Willy!

Me: Yeah I know. I was thinking the same thing. I love when you give advice. It’s not that positive crap everyone else gives. It’s actually helpful. Off to get my granola!

P: I know. We can never trust real people for advice. Maybe this is the time to start smoking so you can leave the office.

ha ha, totally kidding.

Aw sisters, they’re so great. Solving my problems with lung cancer. Gotta love her.

PS: I totally ate a granola bar by the way. Which is loserish in it’s own right but not as bad as the two options above. Yesterday I went out with my boss and coworker and that was nice. Not loserish at all.

Want to meet for lunch next week so you can rescue me from my cubicle awkwardness?