It’s been a while. I was sick for one week and I’m all better now, thankyouverymuch. I’ve succumbed to being Boring, though, allowing my time to be consumed by work, sleep, getting drunk on rhum, and sex.

Last weekend, I sprained Chuchubells’s dick. It was funny. That’s what he gets for calling a ‘Sex Night’. But I weep at the aftermath: my bedsheets are still a crumpled mess, most of my clothes are still strewn all over my bedroom floor, and I have a three-week old bottle of apple C2 fermenting in my room. Yowza. Plus, my hamper is overflowing with laundry while my closet is slowly becoming devoid of clothes.

Oh! Oh! Oh! I got kicked out of my team (here at work) because I suck. November was a bad month for me, so I was put into Phoenix or PIP (Performance Improvement Program). And then my previous team’s supervisor switched from inbound sales to outbound, and guess who’s handling my previous team now? CHUCHUBELLS.

Had I not slacked off last month, this would be this month’s scenario:

Helga: I’m not going to work tonight.
CCB: Why?
Helga: I’m.. umm.. going.. uh.. drinking.
CCB: Drinking?! With who?! I’m not with you, no, you can’t be absent tonight!!!

So yeah, I officially like Chuchubells. I realized that when we were drinking with the Frenchies two Saturdays ago and Elton John’s Tiny Dancer was playing and he started singing along. And theeen, while dressing up to go out, I put on my knee-high fishnet whore stockings which freaked him out/pissed him off. He refused to get out of my bed/take my pillow off his head, and insisted that he’d rather go home or stay at my place than have me go out with prostitute legs :cute:.

People from work are starting to sense that something’s going on between us. It started with me wearing CCB’s jacket to work (a nondescript men’s company jacket) and then him being absent during my rest days and.. uh, our matching hickeys (how very grade school, I know). So much for keeping a low profile.