Forget the taxes, give me death!

This week has been crazy. Work was hell because the receptionist kept not showing up. I forget how nice it is to have one. I spent more time in meetings this week then actually working at my desk. A phone conversation I overheard yesterday:

Steve: We're up 35%!

Caller: (muffled)

Steve: In meetings, not in sales. Sales? We're the same...

Taxes are due...I owe to both state and federal. Thanks Kia for giving me a $3k bonus and not taxing it. Credit card bill is also due today, so I'm broke until pay day.

I was taken aside today at work and was told I needed to "re-evaluate my wardrobe." I would like to precedent the conversation with the fact that I do not dress sexy at work, unless you consider polos and jeans racy. Someone complained that he "does not need to know what color thong I wear each day." I have several problems with this opinion for the following reasons:

1) This sounds very prejudiced against thongs as underwear.

2) I do not wear thongs more than twice a week, as they are necessary to any female that owns khakis or linen pants.

3) My underwear only peeps out when I bend over at the copier, which is front of his office. I'm not into the midriff showing thing.

4) I refuse to be accountable for this because all pants for females my age sit at the hips. I don't even buy the low rise. Likewise, all shirts only go down to just below the navel, creating the space when ladies bend. Instead, I think he should write a strongly worded letter to the fashion industry.

5) What the hell is he doing staring at my ass anyways?

The resolution? Wear big, bulky sweaters. In the summer. In Georgia. In an office building without temperature control (aka no air conditioning.) That, or "ask my rich daddy for money." Both are unrealistic.

Too bad he doesn't know about my hot pants plans for this summer.

On the plus side, I spent my lunch hour at a used book store and bought a few audio books for my long commute to and from work. The most interesting one I bought was by Ben Stiller and Janeane Garofalo. They do a "he said, she said" about their bad relationship and love in general. I hope it's funny. I'll test it out at quittin' time.