The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak

December 8, 2011

clackers.

There's a thing that I never, ever, ever talk about here. No, it's not sex. Jesus, get your mind out of the gutter. Okay, now put it back in there. No, The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak is my job. In fact I discuss it so very little that I've had readers confuse me for a stay-at-home mom. While that's a highly complimentary mistake (yes, I still love my kid even though I work, and look at all the fun we have! Amazing! Incredible!) I am a full time employee of someone who does not poop their pants... that I know of.

The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak has had a busy week. The The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak has been eating my brain. The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak is currently in that one time of each year when the budgets are created and The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak requires many many meetings and crunching of the numbers, and the numbers, they are crunchy like the granola to which I so desperately cling outside the office. Spreadsheets and meetings and calculations and payments and rate cards! In summary: corporate budgets can go die in a fire.

I do not ever speak of The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak because I (normally) love The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak very much. I do not wish to jeopardize the lifespan The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak in any way, nor complain about it, nor tell you any details about it– which would make it a very boring conversation indeed. So we do not talk about The Thing Of Which We Do Not Speak, in fact this isn't even happening right now. Avert your eyes immediately!

FACT #1- I like to present myself as this:

POCKY, GET IN MY MOUTHS! POCKY! I KNOW U CAN HEAR ME! hi.
love at first sight @teammandy ol' pawhands represent!

FACT #2- Most of the time I am this:

picnikfile_Wv4hto

NEVER SPEAK OF THIS AGAIN.
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