Very Sexy

Another post that is being written in a state of undress.

But for good (ish) reason: Yours truly just snagged Dream Job! I didn't want to jinx it before I got it and tell you where, but since I got it, I am proud to tell y'all, dear readers, that Lucky is now an employee of none other than Victoria's Secret! Could you just die!?!? I know I did. It's like working in heaven. 'Twas mean to be! I start training next week.

So, last night I was up watching television after the Lakers game (4-1, LAL, pray for the Pistons, y'all) and I started watching One on One reruns. Remember that show, with Kyla Pratt and Flex Alexander? The acting was as bad as I remember, the outfits just as horrible, but I seem to have developed a crush on Flex, and, sadly, Arnaz (Robert Ri'chard's character). I say sadly because RR is a horrendous actor, but looks mighty nice in those tacky t-shirts (or lack thereof, if you catch my drift). I couldn't find a picture, but holy shiz, what a bod. I nearly fell off the couch.

Anywhoodle, I'm getting ready for yet another interview, this time for an internship with a local news station. Yes, your girl is on her grind this time. No more sitting around, trying to find a job in the middle of June this summer! The only question is time; there aren't enough hours in a day should I get this internship. But if you're trying to cram in 2 internships and a job, that's a good problem to have, in my opinion.

Here is a not-so-good problem to have: I can't stop eating! Between the hours of 11pm and 2am, I remain posted in front of the fridge, feeling horribly guilty. I am terrified that I will wake up one morning weighing 300 pounds. I have no self-control. And it's not like the food is just so good. It's just...there. There for the eatin'. I need a plan. And a man. Just kidding on that last part. It just rhymed, ok?

BFF, love her though I do, does a lot. She's been catching me up on tales of her escapades in Buttcrack, Mississippi. That boyfriend of hers is no good. But of course I blame everything on him. Or maybe I'm just over arrogant (douchey) Southern boys and their ways. Whatever it is, BFF is a card. I love that girl. Lord knows she's listened a million times to my dating issues, so I'm happy to do the same. Most times people don't want advice, they just want someone to listen and add the occasional, "Yeah, girl" or "Ooh, no he didn't!" Which of course, is my specialty.