nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Jinxy minx

I think I've jinxed myself. The last several times I've worked an evening shift at this newish job of mine, the person coming in after me has overslept. We're not talking just a couple minutes late here. We're talking in the vicinity of hours! Tonight Joss was an hour late. Christmas Day night he was closer to an hour and a half. I don't know whether to pitch a fit or buy the guy a third alarm clock.
There are some weird ducks who come into our place of business. There's Mary, the local floating lesbian. There isn't anywhere in town this woman hasn't been seen loitering and she publicly announces her plans to find a new girlfriend. Perhaps it's just her way of advertising or something. There's the town drunk who faithfully comes in every four hours for another forty of Busch. We put them in these long paper bags that we've decorated with markers in whatever style whimsy has dictated for the day. Generally, I draw something either weather-related or the opposite of whatever weather pattern we're currently enmeshed in. The younger blond girl who shares my name generally sticks to the basic smiley faces and my manager just writes "hi" on it. Boring. Gotta keep some semblance of creativity in one's life, don't you agree?
Tonight this wonderful, sweet, poifect specimen of maleness climbed onto a counter and fixed a piece of equipment that had been bothering me sorely. I wanted to kiss him, I was so thankful and instead I gave him free coffee. Doesn't seem an even trade.
The boys are driving me batty. Tomorrow we're going to the park and I swear to God they're playing and running until they drop. If I have to break up one more wrangle or argument, I'm going to tear off my own head. I didn't have a moments peace today, unless you count the ten minutes I hid in the shower. That wasn't really even peaceful since they were running back and forth in the hallway, playing spy or something. Wretches, I tell you.
My Gramps' house was horrendous. I truly believe the man makes as big a mess as he can because he knows, now, that he doesn't ever have to clean up after himself. Bonkers! We took Gracie-Dog with us and it was funny to watch her be all territorial of us in regard to Gramps' dog Pugsley. Wacky animals. (I typed that in the first time as aminals. So sad.)
***
I need laid. Like, hardcore laid. Drop me on my tummy, grab my hips, pound your cock into me sort of laid. Sweaty, sticky, pushing boundaries sort of laid. Grunts and groans and loss of breath kind of laid. The kind of laid that leaves pleasant reminders like minor bruises, aching muscles, swollen lips and tussled hair the next day. Laid like a Berber carpet, laid. Well and completely and firmly.
G'nite all. Naughty Nix is going to bed.
Happy Monday.
N.

11:52 p.m. - 2004-12-27

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