Orange Alert in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Today I’m wearing an orange turtleneck sweater. I’ve had no less than 15 comments from people around the office (and this office isn’t that big) telling me that they love the color on me. See? I sure do love me some autumn. And to think that I bought this sweater at the last minute a couple years ago because I was in desperate need for a little warmth. I never really liked it and thought I wouldn’t wear it again. Only in desperation for something kinda comfy and sweatery this morning did I happen to yank it from the top shelf in the closet. I think I’ll search for more orange the next time I go shopping.

And speaking of alert, I suddenly and without warning went OD Plus members only today. I’ll tell you why. I got an e-mail today from Mr. Sunday Brunch that started out like this:

“oooh, now see this internet is a dangerous thing… you sent me an

email from work, which showed your full name… I threw it in google

and wham, there you are…”

Uh yeah. So I looked myself up, and sure enough. There I am! So I looked up Ginger Snap (which is the name I use on Friendster too), and googled around and lo and behold, found some reference to Teen Open Diary, of all things. I don’t have a diary on Teen Open Diary, but enough poking around and wham, I can be found. I’m guessing that he’s probably already googled Ginger Snap anyway. But I suppose if he wants to read on he’ll have to start his own diary, eh?

Anyway. Today’s note was just as great as yesterday’s. Oh and in case you’re on Friendster and you see me there and you look at my friends…he’s not there, so don’t bother to try to look at him. For some reason, we started in on the e-mails and just skipped the whole adding of each other as friends. Maybe it’s best that way. I don’t know. I guess if it doesn’t work out there won’t be that whole ugly task of deleting the profile. I guess it’s a good safety measure. I suppose that we can just pretend we never met if it doesn’t work out.

Whatevah.

And I mustn’t forget (even though I already had until Chelle reminded me today) that I have that special speed dating thing on Friday night! I’m so not prepared. I haven’t a clue what I’m going to wear. I haven’t even thought about how I want to project myself (like I even have a choice in the matter)! I have decided one thing: I’m only going to drink one or two—MAX—drinks at this event. I want to have a clear head through this whole ordeal. Last time I was a bit buzzed and more than a little peeved at little Miss Chicklet sitting next to me. I’m caught somewhere between nauseated excitement and dread about the whole thing.

I do know that after tomorrow’s presentation I’m going to buy myself an early birthday gift: Burberry Brit perfume. Have you smelled the stuff? All I can say is yumma- lumma-licious. It’s really vanilla-y with some kind of sexy twist. I found a fold-out page sample in one of the thousands of magazines I get every month. I promptly rubbed it all over my wrists and I can smell it every now and then and it makes me just want to take a big ole bite! Somewhere. Ya know? I wonder if it will have the same effect on others? Guess I’ll just have to find out!

And yes, I did say presentation. The one I have at 8:30 tomorrow morning. I’m not done with my preparations. I won’t be done for several more hours. Looks like a long night at the office. I better go so I can get some stuff done.