hair-up hotties

i'd like to expand if i may on this recent discussion of cigarette smoking around the office - because i'll confess sometimes i think it would be nice to be a habitual smoker if for no other reason than to break up the monotony of what is sometimes known as the workday - i'd say well over half of the people on our floor are smokers & i'm not really sure what our corporate handbook says about smoke breaks or the regulation thereof but seriously - there are people who take a minimum of ten smoke breaks a day - i walk down the aisle to retrieve a fax and find myself faced with so many empty desks that i worry that the rapture must have come and i was left behind - which is really just crazy - because we all know that there won't be smokers in heaven - and also, our office has low rapture-proof ceilings...and these smokers, they may be hellbound but boy are they down right savvy - i kid you not, i mean the way they bookend their lunch hour with smokebreaks...that kills a good two hours of the workday right there - and of course there is the unscheduled smokebreak whereby they slam down a telephone or the sheaf of papers they have been shuffling back and forth across their desk and exclaim judas priest! i need a cigarette! and head for the elevator...even though they just returned from a smokebreak five minutes hence.

and i know what they say about the health risks and probably most of it is true but seriously are you killing yourself any less slowly by spending the better part of the day staring at the bland fabric walls of your cube hoping to holy heaven for a power outage or a fire alarm? i'm just saying...and also if i smoked i could be standing right now around the ashtray with my most recent dearly departed crush who appears to be one of those cigarette for the road kind of gals - and to see her standing there with her hair up and her arms akimbo laughing and chatting with all the other nico-teens almost makes me wish i hadn't cast any sidelong glances her way thus ending my last best chance at finding love in post 9/11 amerika - and you know part of me wonders if she isn't just one of those hair-up hotties and stop me if you've never wondered the same thing - because some girls with their hair up...hotties! (hence the name hair up hotties) but you see them with their hair down and...it just doesn't work...but boy hair-up hottie or no, now that i think about it sharing a cig might have been a better way for us to meet rather than throwing myself in front of her speeding vehicle - which in hindsights smells a little bit like an act of desperation, but what can you do - like the great prophet don henley once sang sometimes love just aint enough and its true - even patty smyth thought so as she sang the plaintive harmonies - and when the woman who sang the warrior tells you its time to just give up on love and/or personal grooming - well...enough said

and now, in the midst of picking up the broken pieces of my broken heart (important to note here that during the initial cleanup of the pieces my broken heart i failed to stretch properly, got a cramp in my hamstring, and promptly dropped the detritus thus rendering my heart even more shattered and irrepairable than it was in the first place) i also have to pack a bag for the warmer climes of home - which should be an exciting adventure fraught with peril and airline peanuts - and boy am i looking forward to some sun on my face and some soft sea breeze brushing lightly against my skin - as my taught thighs ripple ominously down the boardwalk even as i try to mask the fact that i am not a tourist in my own hometown - even though i really sort of am...not that i'm complaining it's an excuse to get that bikini wax i've been pining for.