Dimples in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

I am working. Watching a consumer focus group online as I write this. Supposed to last until 10:00 tonight. Ugh. Tomorrow I fly to Atlanta first thing (4am wake-up call) so that I can sit through a bunch more of these. Though I like this kind of stuff and find it somewhat fascinating, this job is starting to morph into something strange. Must get out of here—soon.

I’m meeting a guy named Brian at the airport in ATL, and I’m kind of freaked out because we had some weird kind of flirty-flirty thing going on when I met him for the first time in our New York office. Then I ran into him again in Las Vegas, and my boss wanted to know if I had a “thing” for him. I get all squirmy around him, and tomorrow I have to drive him around Atlanta (a city I’m not that familiar with). Should be a fantastic time.

I still need to clean the apartment to get ready for the New York Fling who will be here on Thursday night. And me with a bloated belly. I’m sort of not looking forward to getting naked, yet I can’t seem to stop eating, snacking, drinking, and then eating some more. Good news is, NYF isn’t the buffest snack in the pack, but he makes up for all of that in brains, charm, dimples, and sex appeal. I hope I do the same for him. Oh except for the dimples. And the brains. And I guess the charm. Sex appeal…that’s what I’m counting on.

Yay! Flings are fun!

But seriously, my bod is in miserable shape right now, and I’m so unhappy. Doesn’t help that the Biggest Loser finale is tonight, and I just watched the amazing transformations. There was a time when I had a beautiful body, and now I feel like I’ve transformed in the opposite direction. I keep telling myself that I’m waiting for my big move, the big change, yada. Yet I can’t keep waiting, because life is still going on around me, and I’m not moving. I know, stop bitching and go.

At least I’ve cleaned up in between focus groups and dinner and crappy reality TV. Oh and writing an entry.

I’m lonely as hell tonight. And sleepy too. I think I’ll call it a night and pack my overnight bag in the morning. I’ll regret it. Oh well.