Apparently the Brave New World at work is going to be “still fun, but a more mature fun”.

Something tells me that my idea of “mature” is vastly different from theirs.

Don’t blame me; there’s a REASON “for mature audiences only” doesn’t mean it’s safe for people in suits only.

I was told I’ll likely have to rewrite the new employee manual again to reflect our new mature image. It’s not like I was specifically told to write it in my own style or anything, or that I worked on it for four months straight. Sure, I’d love to do it all over again, only this time with no fun whatsoever. I love not having fun! I am the office go-to person for buttoned down stoic maturity!

Boo-urns.

Those were the most expensive tacos ever.

Ed and I went to a lesbian-themed housewarming party on Friday night in Mount Pleasant, which was an official Good Time. My favourite people were there, and some shiny new people kept things interesting and hilarious. After we had thoroughly warmed the house, Ed and I decided to keep the party going with my favourite double entendre: tacos. We headed out into the brisk fall night, and made way for deliciousness.

One problem: our car was not where we had left it.

For a variety of very sketchy reasons, the Mazdabator had been unceremoniously towed from the neighbourhood and was locked up in car jail. Luckily, Renee was leaving the housewarming at the same time and was able to drop us off at the impound lot. It wasn’t far away, but I had dressed in the evening’s theme – the almighty vagina – which apparently meant fishnet stockings and very high heels (almost THREE INCHES). I was in no condition to hike down Main Street and along Scary Industrial Way until we found our car, so I very much appreciated Renee’s foresight in eschewing public transit for the night.

All things considered, rescuing the Mazdabator from car jail was a relatively painless process. It was only the second time I’d ever been towed, and it was a great deal less traumatic than my first experience many years ago in Victoria. We collected our car (along with a $50 parking violation just to make the night extra special), then continued on with Operation: Tacos. The night was still young, and I had a void deep within me that only tacos could fill! Onward to victory (and tacos)! I am easy to please.

We’re going to visit my mother this weekend. I haven’t been to Victoria yet this year, and I’m starting to feel a little guilty about it all. It’ll be an uncomfortable weekend – I hate that fucking plywood bench – but it’ll be nice to be home for a few days. Nice and potentially traumatic, if she decides to tell me about all the men she’s been dating.

On second thought, maybe I’ll just stay here.

hershel's head is in the box