I'm sitting here, waiting for my friend, Korey, to come to my apartment. I don't even know why I ever do anything on time. I am insanely punctual, while most of my friends are irritatingly tardy. In order to get them to arrive on time or be dressed before the stroke of midnight, I tell them to be ready about 45 minutes before I actually want to leave for the biz'ars. It's a great trick I've learned throughout the years. So, see you at my place around 8:45?

Halloween.

The celebrated holiday gives us permission to regress, become our childhood heroes, and put a hoochie spin to our night.

What are you planning to dress up as for Halloween?
Freshman year of college I was a hoochie fairy, sophomore year Hoochie Dorothy from Wizard of Oz, junior year a hoochie damsel, and senior year Hoochie Red Riding Hood. This year, if you run into an Asian girl dressed as either Swinging Good Luck Charm Care Bear or Slutty Strawberry Shortcake, wave hi.

I was never forbidden to go on the yearly quest for free candy, but my mother discouraged us in participating in the satanic ritual. One year, my mother successfully persuaded me to stay home to avoid all nefarious activities by offering me ten bags of candy. I had never been a big fan of math, but I quickly estimated the time it would take me to trek around the neighborhood in the brisk cold weather to get enough candy to equal the ten bags my mom proposed. Sorry revelers, but I sold myself out to my mother. That year, securing sweet succulent candy was effortless and I enjoyed every bit of that deal. My mother's ploy kept me away from the devil's hand, but closer to the dentist's chair.

Ever gone trick-or-treating and come upon a house that gave out fruit or religious pamphlets as candy for the Christian soul? That was probably my door you knocked on. My mother made my brother and I provide unsuspecting Halloweeneers theological readings as supplements to the candy. It was quite embarrassing handing out non-sugary items to my neighbors because it was evident that they didn't want to waste precious room in their pillowcases and pumpkin baskets for such inedible gifts. But I hope my hard work as a child evangelist paid off. I can only hope that those young trick-or-treaters skimmed through the pamphlets and converted to Christianity between bites of their apples. When the times comes and you're knocking on heaven's door, maybe God will give you that long awaited Snickers bar sans reading material.

Today is a sad day because the reality of the Boston Red Sox losing to the arrogant Yankees has hit me hard.

Oh poor hot Italian northern boys. Someday you'll get the chance to play in the World Series. But until that day comes, give me a call. I will mend your broken hearts and revive your sore bodies in every conceivable way!

Why do baseball managers always look like they're napping?

Wake up fogie! Your team needs guidance. You aint being paid to sleep on the job!


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Top ten signs you need to step away from the computer:

10. you're reading this blog
9. your left arm has tendonitis from typing so much and now you can't pull back your hair in a cute ponytail
8. you avoid phone calls like the plague. the only way you communicate with friends and family is through IM.
7. you have all three messenger services: AIM, MSN, and Yahoo. you have more than one screenname for each IM application: one to talk with friends, one to stalk your crush's away messages, and another for work.
6. you've given your computer a name and treat it like a child. when 'Lil Putey' runs smoothly you're nice, but when Putey misbehaves you hit and scream at him.
5. you use the same login and passwords for every site because you can't keep track of them all
4. you have more than one email service with more than one login for each hotmail, yahoo, emode, friendster, any.edu accounts
3. you're a couple shades paler since you've purchased your home computer.
2. you only know your identification number by how you enter it in the keyboard. when prompted to say aloud your ID, you first have to pretend to be typing it.
1. you no longer talk like a normal person. your in-the-flesh conversations with friends consist of IM acronyms such as T-T-Y-L and B-R-B.

Since I've started working at Gap Kids at the age of 16 , I've avoided all intimacy with my co-workers. It's weird having people at work know who you really are as a person. You want to maintain a sense of professionalism so that you can give instructions and take instructions without feeling any awkwardness. Also, after spending eight hours with them , who wants to squander another three hours at a restaurant chatting about work? When I leave the office, I don't want to hear how Bob screwed up his TPS report or how Milton ate the last piece of cake in the fridge.

I'm all smiley, cheery, and silly at work, but I can be a down right bitch in 'real' life. Ask my friends and family. My personality has many facets and people at work don't have the opportunity see the whole picture.

Well, all has changed my friends. I have, for the first time, let co-workers get to know the real Natalie. Whether this is a good thing or not, I'm not sure. I don't want to ruin my sweet image at work, but aye, I gotta have some people to shoot the shit with.

I gave the link to this website to two work buddies of mine and I think my blogs have knocked that halo off my head. Mans-dogg and Falky, I hope by getting to know me you'll want to chill in my office more, cover Roberto's ass when he doesn't get stuff done, and go off to more lunch vacations. I promise I won't play Christina Aguilera in the car or stick post-its on your face anymore.
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Remember the days when you were actually excited by full voicemail and email boxes?

Today I have 27 emails. Do I want to read them? No. Curse you, job! Damn you for making me work, but thank you for that paycheck I get once a month.

The sight of my inbox makes me cringe, the continuous sound of the 'bling' when I receive new emails is like a slow dripping death, and hearing that monotone voice on the phone say "you have seven new messages' causes internal convulsions in my stomach.

I am overcome with glee when I hear "no new messages' and seeing less then ten emails in my inbox. Praise the day when people forget that I exist so that I can concentrate on my ebay biddings.

You know what I really hate? Coming into work to find that someone has turned off my computer. That means I have to restart the system, load up the 546 applications I use, and configure my browsers to have all the right websites. I lock the computer before I leave because I don't want to spend fifteen minutes reloading programs the next day. That quarter of an hour is precious time that should be used for personal morning amusement such as writing new blogs or checking last night's game on espn.com.

Some dolt probably just shut it down so that he/she could use IM (I bet it was that spawn of the devil I've mentioned before ) . To assure that others view me as a psycho-possessive-office-items-keeper so not to even think to get near my desk, I have put my post-it notes to good use. Vibrant sticky paper cover my box and screen instructing unauthorized simpletons not to touch my computer.

Well, I have to get back to work. Have a nice Tuesday and don't come near me. I may adhere a post-it on your face for good measure.

Mondays are intolerable and cruel. Going to work after a nice weekend is like being a baby coming into the world for the first time. The weekend spent in your apartment and with friends are like the days growing in the womb. It's gloriously nice, warm and safe. Then all of the suddenly, Monday rolls around, you're pulled out of your comfort zone by a pair of cold metal forceps, and brought into the world of sterility, also known as the office . You just want to go back to your cushy bed or mummy's belly, but the forces of nature demand that you work in order survive. Take me out of this cold and bitter reality. Well, at least let me take naps in between sending emails and going to meetings.

I miss NY :(