Work? What a novel concept.

I've got a lot of these little buggers floating around at the moment. No, I haven't decamped my desk and moved here, rather, I have a *ahem* date tonight and, I'm super fucking nervous!

The tall, dark mysterious stranger is taking me to this rather dubious stretch of metropolitan melbourne. I can't for the life of me decide if this is a good thing or not. I err to the side of not. Depends on where we go. Judgemental bitch, I know.

So, due to aforementioned nervousness, haven't been doing a hell of a lot at work today. Just buggerising around on the internet; moisturising my hands; ringing The Tart for fashion tips; moisturising my hands; reading other blogs; raiding the snack machine; ringing The Tart again for hair tips; moisturising my hands; sending textaslsdkwsalksjdfawdflkk.

Must have moisturised a tad too much.

My greatest dilemma today is not what sort of fees I'm going to charge my clients, rather, should I go and buy some new knickers for tonight? Not because I'm planning to make the hot sex with my handsome stranger, but, well, you know. You always feel hotter and more confident when you have a sexy pair of knicks on. *Ahem* Then again, what sort of fancy underpants-y would one be able to purchase from a suburban single mother's paradise. Order of the day would probably be NONE, or at the very least, a special looking pair of these: .
(Apologies to anyone reading whilst eating). But here are some more for good measure.

Perhaps my date might wear this:

Or go the conservative option and slip these on.

One can only wish upon a star that he will turn up in this:

There better be a lot of stars for THAT!

Ooh, my bad. That was just a bit of fun, and a chance to test work's internet 'porn' barriers. There's not going to be any underpants action; just a pleasant drink/dinner (as long as there's none of this shit involved. Truly bad-date form), and hopefully some fabulous conversation.



Wonder how I'd go trying to leave work early to get my bikini line done?