Apr 1st, 2015
If today is the day of all jokes, then truly the great joke of life is on me. I was so depressed after paying my bills that I found myself dialing the office, requesting to talk with the slender fingered Eric for no other reason than to stay in the fore thoughts of my ex-confreres.
To make matters worse, I demanded to know every last detail about the receptionist that replaced me. Her name is Ellie something-or-other and everything about her sounds disreputable. For one, she’s the tender age of nineteen. I’m absolutely gobsmacked that a multinational corporation’s single point of contact is in the hands of someone that hasn’t even the ability to share an after-hours cocktail. I’m sure she’s one of those text-at-all-hours of the day, Facebook addicts that is so busy with social media that she hasn’t the time to properly answer the phone or to be bothered with something as important as an emergency evacuation plan. I told Eric that I hope and pray that no one in the office has a heart attack, because it wouldn’t surprise me if she thought an AED was some sort of urban internet abbreviation that meant “an early departure” or “alter ego disorder”. Her inexperience only added to my melancholia.
I guarantee that she will never be able to transcend her specific duties to the be the internal unifying link for the company’s officers, it’s employees, visitors, and guests, something I was able to do with style and the grace of a celestial being.
Apr 2nd, 2015
Still enraged at the audacity of my old company to replace me with a gullible twit, I called the office today and asked if I could speak to Stephen R. Covey. Ellie, my numskull replacement actually put me on hold while she looked for the dearly departed, world-renowned author and keynote speaker.
I spent the reminder of the day creating an April rent invoice for my mother, re-submitted March’s unpaid invoice, and then slumped in my bed watching court television shows. I desperately waited for a phone call, text, and/or online correspondence from Brett French. When no word came, I broke down and called Eric again. He is truly the only person on which I can rely to securely remain my trusted admirer.
Apr 3rd, 2015
I hadn’t either the strength or energy to make it out of bed today. I decided to concoct a list of compelling reasons to make the most of my day, but truly the only thing that gave me the spark I needed to drag myself out of my warm comfortable bed was to call the new receptionist at my old office and ask to speak with Steve Jobs. As predicted, she put me on hold while she looked him up in the directory. It makes me feel infinitely better to know that my old company must be missing my professionalism and deep knowledge of today’s business leaders.
After that, I decided to take a walk around the city. I’m in tremendous need of an action plan for happiness and I thought perhaps the chill in the air would be clarifying. I confess, that I have been scratching myself to a bloody pulp and this behavior must stop. If I am to be considered an advanced intellect, I cannot be taking out my frustrations on my body.
Apr 4th, 2015
I woke up this morning with a resolve to re-energize my mind and body. As luck would have it, I encountered a lovely book, “The Person You’ve Always Wanted to Be” on the discount rack at CVS. I felt an instant connection with the book and scooped it up. I then sprinted to the nearest health store where I bought an aromatherapy candle for meditation and deep introspection.
I couldn’t wait to arrive home so that I could take my life in a new direction. I haven’t the foggiest clue as to why leaving my old job has put me into such a state, but I was bound and determined to get to the root cause and expel it out of my psyche. However, when I arrived home, I was bombarded with chaos, as my mother’s ghastly animal, Iffy, came barreling to the door as I walked in. The disgusting beast ran right for my legs, where he instantly started licking my pants as if they were soaked in a savory brine for three days.
The atrosities didn’t end there. My mother and Maxine were in the kitchen butchering an enormous piece of raw swine. The pig’s pale pink skin, still intact, was so revolting it made me want to regurgitate and the smell of raw flesh that permeated the air was enough to make me lose my appetite through the summer’s end. I couldn’t possibly surmise which of the two came up with the idea that they were qualified to cut up an animal, nor could I imagine when they thought they would ever eat so much pork. There was no possible way for me to meditate myself into deep thought and introspection. Instead I lied quietly on my bed with my television blaring, in order to drown out the sawing and hacking sounds of the amateur cook’s mercilessly carving up the poor pig.
I swear if there is even the slightest piece of that decaying skin or a pig hoof anywhere to be found on my Easter dinner plate tomorrow, I will toss my entire plate, dish and all, into the trash.
Apr 5th, 2015
Today, my family celebrated the glorious holiday of Easter. I wanted to spend a great deal of time trying to carefully read my new book, “The Person You’ve Always Wanted to Be” however, I had to focus all my energy on drowning out Maxine’s high-pitched squeals of delight every time she found a hidden egg or treasure. “Found another!” she heartily announced with each newly encountered egg, as if we were all keeping close tabs.
My parents begged me to partake in searching for the hidden eggs, but I hadn’t the strength to get up off the couch. The most I could give to the traditional holiday event was a silent over-indulgence of the chocolate covered treats that were stuffed in my basket, which I had Maxine seek out on my behalf. I wish I had never been awakened to the conclusion that my ordinary upbringing will forever keep me in the ranks of the un-gifted. I fear my life-long dream of being the CEO of a Fortune 500 company will never be realized.
The only real bright spot to the day was that in addition to ham, my mother made a vegetable lasagna for our Easter dinner. I was able to stuff a couple of pieces down my throat without worry that I was eating part of the disgusting animal that my mother and Maxine butchered yesterday. So, at the very least, rather than spending this very special holiday discouraged, broken-hearted, borderline suicidal, and hungry, I had a belly full of nourishing pasta.
Apr 6th, 2015
I holed myself up in my bedroom in order to give my full attention to my moping, melancholy and moon struck madness. I must be mindful that when one is a CEO, every day is the most important day of his or her life. I simply don’t have the time to waste days at a time lying in my bed ignoring the world.
I opened my book, “The Person You’ve Always Wanted to Be” which promises a foolproof journey to success and happiness. As it turns out, I began my upward sojourn two days ago when I bought my book! Most people don’t even recognize the need to reinvent themselves and invigorate their careers, which puts me well ahead of all the other young entrepreneurs out there. I felt infinitely better once I read that fact in my new book.
According to my guide, my next step was to write my own obituary which will serve as my mission statement. It took several hours and soul-searching, but I finally completed my first draft.
Iris Elizabeth (Cutter) Julius, Inventor of Expresso and other Highly Original Products, Best-Selling Author, Motivational Mentor, & Key-Note Speaker Dies at 92 in the Bahamas.
Iris Elizabeth (Cutter) Julius died peacefully on her Caribbean estate yesterday, much to the world’s heartbreak. A beloved businesswoman, Iris’ creative and inventive spirit was an inspiration to all that knew her. In fact, upon hearing of her passing, US President, George Bush IV, her close personal friend and follower remarked, “The world has lost a great mind, humanitarian, and entrepreneur. That was Iris Cutter Julius. Never before have I seen someone able to educate and inspire as many as Iris, all while maintaining the highest standard in quality in her products and I don’t expect to see someone as special as her again.”
Bombarded with requests to be a motivational mentor and key-note speaker up until the end, Iris could often be heard remarking that she wished there were more hours in the day so that she could be an inspiration to more.
Mrs. Julius’ cardinal company, Expresso, launched her into the high stakes world of international business and earned her acceptance into the prestigious and distinctive “30 Under 30” club. She was further honored internationally for her business acumen, charitable contributions, and ethics. Her accolades include the title of Dame in Great Britain, a Nobel Peace Prize, and a legendary ten-time appearance on the cover of Time Magazine.
While Iris owned property all over the world, including Abu Dhabi, Paris, Moscow, Sydney, and Chicago, she felt most at home in her Caribbean estate. She passed peacefully, surrounded by her husband, Ohranj, her two children and grandchildren, as well as the countless third-world sponsor children Iris financially supported. In addition to providing countless opportunities for success to those in poverty, she never forgot her life-long promise to employ the sick children of the world. All in all, Mrs. Julius spent the greater part of her $800 billion fortune on the diseased and deprived.
In lieu of flowers, the family of Iris request that mourners make a donation to the Iris Foundation for the Blind or one of her many charitable organizations, which can be found at http://www.iriscutter.org/giving.
Apr 7th, 2015
Tonight, while I was at archery class. I caught some of the other students smoking marijuana outside of the building. Appalled, I marched into Teagan’s office in order to inform him of the gross negligence the other archer’s were displaying. He seemed relatively unconcerned, given the gravity of the situation.
Later, I couldn’t help but notice the same archers, the four that were partaking in the illegal activity, we were enjoying target practice. Clearly, they suffered no consequences to their actions.
I left class feeling both unsafe and unheard. I can’t help but wonder if there is a legal lesson to be learned on the part of the archery club.
Apr 8th, 2015
Now that my re-birth has happened, I must continue to move forward in my climb to success. I created for myself a list of To Do’s and To Don’ts.
1. To Do – Find the mailing addresses of your “Top 50 Target CEO’s” and send personal letters which invite them to partake in the newest craze sweeping the nation, Expresso.
2. To Don’t – Stop seeking solace with the slender-fingered Eric. You call him much too much.
3. To Do – Sell at least 200 Expresso 10-packs in order to pay your May bills.
4. To Don’t – Stop scratching your body to a bloody pulp.
5. To Do – Get Maxine to sell off the rest of your Mary Kay supplies. She did a surprisingly good job at her last party.
6. To Don’t – Stop kicking Maxine awake in the morning, even though she religiously sleeps until noon every day.
7. To Do – Start sending Ohranj weekly jokes, light-hearted anecdotes, or musings.
8. To Don’t – Stop telling Ohranj that he has crushed your heart beyond repair.
9. To Do – Pay off your bills to Scot Ipsum, Mary Kay, and Visa.
10. To Don’t – Stop thinking about the wonderful office space at State & Madison.
Apr 9th, 2015
I wrote my first letter to my Top 50 today. I kept it under 100 words. I know that a lengthy letter to a busy CEO is a sure-fire way to leave a negative lasting impression.
However, once I completed the letter, I couldn’t silence the dreadful voices of inadequacy in my head. I immediately wondered, “Will Expresso be enough? Should I create more products in order that I let these great CEO’s know that I have a suite of products? When they visit Expresso online, will they chuckle in amusement at my one-page website?”
I then decided to take action and I wrote the following footnote on my site,
“My name is Iris Cutter, Founder, Chairperson, and CEO of Expresso. Much like any CEO, much of my drive is based on my pure addiction to business. I am constantly growing and evolving in order push me and my company to the next level. The intense pleasure I derive from my company is so personal, that I absolutely will not create a product, unless it speaks to me on an intimate level. Because of that, I will not invent a new product, just for the sake of higher sales or wider margins. For now, Expresso is simply, one highly original product that will increase your coffee drinking pleasure, ten-fold.”
I then sat at my dining room table and brainstormed ideas for my next million-dollar opportunity.
Apr 10th, 2015
Brett French called me and invited me to one of his improv comedy shows this Sunday night. As it turns out, he called, right when I was brushing my teeth. I gently set my toothbrush down on the side of the sink in order that I properly answer the phone.
I instantly responded to Brett’s request in the affirmative. Brett is wonderful and bright, truly a perfect man with which to pass time while I wait for Ohranj to get his head on straight. I walked into my bedroom so that I could have a little privacy while we finalized our plans.
When I finished our conversation I walked back into the bathroom to continue brushing my teeth. However I was met with the foul stench of a recently soiled comfort station. Had Maxine no decency? My poor toothbrush was now besmirched with noxious fumes and tiny invisible particles of human waste rendering it completely useless.
I walked into the living room and threw the tainted brush at her face. I then was forced to put on a presentable outfit and walk down to the CVS to buy another.
When I returned home, I took my beloved new toothbrush and stored it in a resealable plastic bag and hid it under my bed.
Apr 11th, 2015
Today, I did my usual shipping of Expresso labels. While putting together my ten-packs, I had to fight every urge to go into the bathroom to tinker with Maxine’s toothbrush. The little cretin has absolutely no idea how difficult it is to have to constantly be on the lookout of one’s personal property and I would love nothing more to give her a taste of her own medicine.
Apr 12th, 2015
My date with Brett French tonight has given me a lot to think about. When I was a young girl, I made a great promise to myself that I would never get romantically involved with anyone looking to make a life out of the fine art of theater. Having an overly-emotional, consistently depressed, failed actress for a mother was unbearable. Additionally, I was forced to attend boring old plays, only to be further lulled into a coma-like existence from the excessive whining that flowed from my mother’s mouth afterwards about her lack of recognition.
However, Brett French was truly a delight on the stage tonight. He had everyone in the audience in stitches with his extemporaneous wit and banter. Not only that but the improv theater’s walls were littered with pictures of famous actors and actresses that once graced the very stage that Brett was commanding. Clearly it is very easy to break into showbiz when you have talent and I have a nagging feeling that I should not discount Brett as a potential lover.
I started the night out ready to impress upon Brett that I was much more interested in his journalism career, but by the end of the night, I admit, my head was swirling over his impending stardom.
Apr 13th, 2015
I went to the grocery store today to find a buy-one-get-one sale on Ben and Jerry ice cream pints. I leapt for joy and instantly placed two Half Baked pints into my cart. I cherish the velvety vanilla and chocolate creams with gobs of chocolate chip cookie and brownie dough, and so rarely allow myself to indulge in the pricey frozen morsel.
However, once I arrived home, I found the freezer to be chock full of the pig my mother and Maxine butchered. There wasn’t even a sliver of space. I called my mother and insisted she immediately drive over and take all of the disgusting meat back to her own freezer. She agreed, but the dope didn’t get to my apartment for two hours.
All I could do was sit and watch my treats thaw in front of my very eyes.
Apr 14th, 2015
What should have been a relaxing day of discovery and reinvention turned out to be completely chaotic. As I predicted, my father has found out that my mother has been dishing out money to Maxine hand over fist, including the $5000 she used to buy her out of two lease agreements. He is livid. My mother came over to my apartment with her dog Iffy, seeking solace. Just what my one bedroom apartment needs! Another person and a grotesque, filthy animal roaming around!
When my father cooled a bit, he called over to my house and insisted my mother put him on speaker phone so that he could scold all of us. He then said something so detestable and crass that it almost violated human decency.
“Iris and Maxine will never go to the store for milk, if they know they can just suck it off the teet, Lydia.”
I was immediately affected with nausea. I interjected as quickly as possible, despite being inclined to vomit, that, “I had absolutely no part in Mom and Maxine’s little scheme other than to provide housing for the little leach!”
However, my father threw back in my face that he had found the invoices I sent to my mother for rent and the matching deductions from his bank account.
The rest of my night was spent in a complete panic. May 1st was quickly approaching and I was depending on a payment from my mother for Maxine’s rent.
Apr 15th, 2015
I woke up extra early this morning in order to be the first in line at H&R Block for my tax preparation and filing. I had hoped against hope that the adviser assigned to me would find some tax loophole that would enable me to get thousands of dollars returned to me. As I was striding to the nearest office, it occurred to me that I could file Maxine as a dependent and that I was possibly sitting on a business start-up tax deduction goldmine.
Those hopes quickly vanished when the tax agent explained to me that I couldn’t claim my sister as a dependent solely because she lived with me. He further revealed that I could not include my small-business start-up deduction in my 2014 filing, since I didn’t incorporate Iris Cutter’s Expresso until March 2015.
I left the office with a measly $200 return and a strong distaste for my tax agent’s need to label Expresso as a “small business.”
Apr 16th, 2015
I’m woke up with a dire feeling of financial ruin, so I feverishly headed out to coffeehouse after coffeehouse in order to sell my wonderful little stickers. My quest was not altogether fruitless, but truly there were only so many locations that I could visit in a day. It occurred to me that I should seek out young and daring entrepreneurs looking to work for a high-flying start-up.
I hurried home, called Tamar and asked for her assistance in creating a web advertisement to seek out the most eager and stylish sales professionals. I was certain her ability to create the most adorable party invitations would translate beautifully into an online classified that would garner the most dedicated and polished sales staff for Expresso. Additionally, I thought that I could ascertain any kind of confidential update that Brett French may have divulged to her about our date.
While Tamar was most helpful getting a thrilling ad up and running, she was of no assistance what-so-ever in providing any insight into Brett’s thoughts on what could be our budding romance.
Apr 17th, 2015
I visited the Loop in order to hand out my newly created flyers calling out for young professionals. Being that it was an unseasonably warm Chicago day, many were out an about making it possible for me to hand select the talent pool from which I would be carefully choosing the next Expresso employee. I was certain to keep in mind all of the important criteria: vigor, charisma, and a winning workplace wardrobe, when singling out prospects in which to give a flyer.
While in the area, I made certain to stop in to my old office. No one, other than the slender-fingered Eric was even the slightest bit amused to see me. It was devastating to realize that my daily company and companionship had gone unmissed. Eric tried to cheer me up with a lunch offer, however, I couldn’t bear to eat while staring at his long fingers. Instead we took a clarifying walk. That’s when it occurred to me that many of my middle-management ex-colleagues were most likely seething with jealousy over my success. I could almost hear them groan, “Why did SHE get to go right from junior staff to CEO?”
When Eric and I arrived back to the office, I communicated with several of my old officemates that my new position was a life-long goal and dream. I explained that any perceived threat or inadequacy they were feeling was completely inadvertent and unintentional. However, no matter how much I tried to convince everyone, there were still some folks that I could not get to warm up to my presence.
I guess there are just some people who will never understand that obtaining a C-Level title requires serious self-examination, an assessment of faults, and a superior product idea. Until those certain individuals stop pointing their fingers at me, their chances for a high position are virtually nonexistent.
Apr 18th, 2015
My mother brought over a large tub of pulled pork today. I exclaimed, right after she dropped it on the dining room table, “Oh good. More pig.” I then looked at Maxine and squinted my eyes into little slivers.
Wasn’t it enough that I had to live with her filthy, hoggish habits? Did I now have to sit around and eat the disgusting remains of her and my mother’s culinary dissection; meat which just happened to be the very animal Maxine embodied to perfection?
The sick twisted irony of the whole situation was enough to make me want nothing more than to retire to my bedroom. I closed my door, rested my body on my bed and pondered the real weight of Hollywood actresses, how much and how often did they found it necessary to surgically alter their faces and bodies, and if ever I would pass as a great beauty.
Apr 19th, 2015
Today marked a week anniversary since I have last heard from Brett French. I sat in front of my computer and investigated his movements with the same intensity in which I used to cyber-stalk Ohranj. I was able to conclude that he was in Boston, New York, and Baltimore, covering baseball games. Furthermore, while he was in New York, he visited some of the local improv theatres. He was gone for a total of 5 days. I mapped out a timeline, cross checked it with both major league baseball schedules and Brett’s articles, and concluded that his silence was not a good indicator of his interest level.
At some point, Maxine, the little sneak, mentioned to me that desperation was a very unattractive quality.
Oh, how I long for the day when Maxine moves out! I can barely remember the days when I could linger on a suitor’s web page without scorn or indulge myself with a little private investigating. It seems that I can’t even daydream without Maxine looking over my shoulder ready to form an opinion about my life!
Apr 20th, 2015
Today, I went to a book store in order to hit a new kind of coffee drinking audience. While I was there I opened a copy of “Chicago” magazine. I instantly knew that I had to get Expresso featured in it’s glossy pages. I scooped up a copy as well as a copy of “Weddings” and headed back to my apartment.
When I arrived, I very slyly reached for my computer and walked into my bedroom. I typed as silently as possible as to not alert Maxine to my online doings. Even though I was not at all confident or assured of Brett’s feelings, I sent a Facebook private message to him in which I posed the question, “Will you be requesting my presence at any kind of event this upcoming week?”
I then hid under my covers and admired all the pictures of the soon-to-be-brides.
After I felt sufficiently miserable, I walked into the kitchen to put together a light dinner. All I encountered in the refrigerator was pork.
Apr 21st, 2015
More revolting pork. It seems as though Maxine and I are now eating nothing but swine for breakfast, lunch, and dinner due to our sudden loss of finances.
Apr 22nd, 2015
I am absolutely tickled! Brett French responded to my direct message on Facebook! After profusely apologizing for his silence, he asked if I was available to do something on either Thursday or Friday night. My heart leapt with joy and I very quickly responded that Friday dinner would be ideal.
Without hesitation, he messaged me back asking if there was a special type of food in which I was in the mood. I snickered at his request. At this point, truly any type of food, even a brown paper sack drenched in last night’s grease, would be more appealing than another piece of pig.
Could it be, that finally, things were going to turn around for me and my love life?
Apr 23rd, 2015
My day was devoted solely to following up with my “Top 50” CEO list as well as creating an introductory letter to the editors of the following magazines: Chicago, the New Yorker, The Economist, and Fortune. I thought long and hard about the story I would like to tell. Young upstart? Rags to riches? The world versus Iris Cutter? They all seemed like viable candidates, but I worried whether any of these ideas separate me from the dozens of leaders in which I will be competing for desirable keynote speaking engagements?
I confess, I have been dreaming about being a motivational and keynote speaker since I was 10. When other children were out playing with neighborhood pals after school, I was standing in front of a jury-rigged podium in my bedroom, extolling the importance of a superior elegance and sophisticated vocabulary. I longed for the day in which people clamored for my counsel and guidance.
Now that day is upon me. I’m CEO of one of the most thrilling and inventive companies to come along. To miss out on a dream conference simply because the lack of thorough media planning would be simply devastating.
Apr 24th, 2015
In preparation for my date with Brett French, I put together a clever little piece of ironic major league baseball antics as well as a lovely skirt suit ensemble. Admittedly, I want Brett to think of me as a businesswoman of the highest class, however, I would not be objectionable to him noticing the amount of work I put into my outer being and my sports intellect. I believe that my preparation worked quite to my favor as I was practically beating Brett off with a wooden spoon at the restaurant.
Apr 25th, 2015
I am on the brink of financial failure and ruin. I never thought that this could ever happen me. But here I am, on the precipice of a brand new month and I have absolutely no way to pay for a single bill, all when I should be basking in the glory of my newly found love, Brett French. Truly the only way I see myself out of this bottomless hole is if Expresso goes viral or I get a job and I shudder thinking about having to live under the rule of another time clock. Anything, even scrounging for pennies in sawdust laced with arsenic, sounds more appealing than going back to working for the man.
Would it be too much to hope for money to fall out of the sky? Or perhaps Brett can assist me in playing the horses. While I normally think gambling is despicable, I see nothing wrong with trying to make the most out of a desperate situation.
I hope and pray that Brett doesn’t discover that I am not the person with whom he has become enraptured. I must do everything in my power to keep this a great secret.
Apr 26th, 2015
Maxine and I went over to our mother and father’s house for dinner tonight in order to grovel for financial assistance. I fully blame Maxine for our predicament. Somehow, her mere presence in my home has dragged me down to her level of extreme poverty. I wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised if her fortuneless aura is the very reason that Expresso has yet to go viral!
My mood could not have been more foul when we arrived. I have never had to walk into a room feeling as inadequate as I did when I walked into my mother and father’s house. I went right for their liquor cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay and instantly started to chug glass after glass, until I was inebriated and found the confidence to pull my mother aside and request $5000.
“Maxine had completely dried out my nest egg!” I complained. “I desperately need to be repaid in order for me to continue growing my company. Unless, that is, you don’t want me to be successful.”
There was a long silence after I made that last remark. We looked at each other in the eye until I could see little tears forming and then I whispered, “Imagine what you could have been if only you had someone supporting you all those years.” With that, she promised to take me down to the bank the following morning and I gave her a great big hug.
Finally able to breathe a sign a relief, I was able to enjoy the rest of the night. I shared with my family that I had found a new bright spot, a man named Brett French. I noted his improv comedy background and remarked how he and my mother shared many of the same performance traits, even though I don’t believe my mother possesses an eighth of Brett’s talent. I didn’t even complain when we sat down to a nauseating dinner of pork.
Later, when I arrived home, I called Brett. I left a lovely message in which I reminded him of the wonderful time I had with him on our date and inquired as to his schedule for the upcoming week. I then reached under my bed, grabbed the “Weddings” magazine and imagined the celebrity-studded wedding that Brett and I would share.
Apr 27th, 2015
My mother and I went down to the bank today in order to transfer $5000 into my account. After the funds were securely in my account, I took her out to a nice lunch as both an expression of appreciation and in order to calm her out of the nervous wreck into which she spun herself. I tried to reassure her that my father would fully understand why it was necessary for her to repay me for Maxine’s complete decimation of my bank account, but she couldn’t relax. She left almost three-quarters of her cheeseburger uneaten.
When we returned back to my apartment, my mother and I found Maxine relaxing on her blow-up mattress, while my aromatherapy candle brightly burned next to her scrawny figure. I turned to my mother and shouted, “This is exactly the type of abusive, improper, and parasitic behavior to which I have been subjected for the last four months!”
I walked to my room, slammed the door, and Facebook messaged Brett French to see if he would like to join me for a lovely dinner, my treat. I couldn’t help but think, this moment could have been vastly improved if only I had a wonderfully scented candle burning next to my bed.
Apr 28th, 2015
Brett French and I have a full blown online love affair blossoming. It seems that morning, noon, and night all we can do is reach out to one another online. We have connected via Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, and Pinterest and are constantly commenting and doting on the post of the other. Never have I gotten to know anyone’s soul as quickly as I have gotten to know Brett’s. It would be absolutely true to say that I feel like we have been dating for years.
I felt it imperative that he and I spend a glorious night together. Since we have decided that Friday we were going to go out to dinner, I conveniently made reservations for us to eat at an establishment in a downtown hotel. I carefully selected a restaurant with a high quality chef, in order that I give off the appearance of a persnickety diner rather than an overly zealous harlot.
I then, gently picked up my phone and made a room reservation at the hotel. For Friday night, shall be the night in which I declare my deep love and adoration for Mr. French.
Apr 29th, 2015
I woke up this morning with a zip in my step and decided that today would be devoted to Expresso. I emailed each and every person from which I received a business card during my talent search last week and inquired if they would like to interview for a position. I was able to secure 3 interviews for next week Monday. In an ideal world, I would have wanted all of the candidates to compete for my highly coveted sales position as soon as possible. However, I didn’t want to seem rabid or desperate. I know that the hiring process a cunning game of power and intellectualism. Any slight misstep can result in a salary negotiation entanglement or a start date misfire, so I settled on interviews in 5 days time.
I also spent a large part of my day researching keynote speaking engagements in which I could make my start. The top of my list included the business schools at DePaul, Northwestern, and Loyola. I rang my father and asked if he was able to help me secure a date at DePaul, since he was part of the faculty there, however the lazy turd suggested that I inquire at the Rotary Club or an old-folks home for my debut.
He certainly knows how to take the winds out of anyone’s sails. Will anyone ever know the amount of suffering and heartache in which I have been forced to endure?
Apr 30th, 2015
I called Tamar and asked her to come shopping with me for my tryst with Brett French. Never before have I been so bold as to actually plan a night of lovemaking and pleasure. While I assumed that Brett would rejoice in my body, I admit that I did have some trepidation, thus requiring me to pay extra mindfulness to my outfit. I must walk the thin line between arousal and modesty in order to ensure that he is overcome with lust with me all while maintaining a chaste charade.
I needed something alluring, stunning, and utterly elegant without any kind of overindulgence in the neckline or hem. Tamar and I shopped for hours before I found a lovely cocktail dress. While the dress was quite conservative, it had just enough after-dark mystique that would pair nicely with irresistible sheer black hosiery.
Tamar practically insisted that I deny myself nothing when it came to my undergarments. While I admire Tamar’s ability to overlook her own brazen style, I simply couldn’t entertain any of her intimate apparel options. Everything she wanted me to purchase screamed “rent-by-the-hour-tramp” and I absolutely couldn’t risk having Brett think, for even a second, that I had arranged the entire evening just for a good rogering.