Got It Bad

I just wrote I HEART PR on a stats sheet at work, scribbled it out, then giggled.

I know. You don't have to tell me.

Furthermore, I confessed my feelings to my little mate Studmuffin, who is friends with Crush, last night, after the exchange I blogged about yesterday left me completely flustered. He was gobsmacked and is now very disapproving every time I glance in the Crush's direction. Now, if I happen to sit next to Crush, I receive pointed looks and later an 'ooh, get you!'

Luckily, since I actually like this guy I am completely unable to flirt with him. That would only bring me greater ridicule.

I feel my confession has brought me closer to the 'Muffin, as we then engaged in a full and frank discussion about sex, during which he happily and confidently declared that he wasn't very well endowed, asking if I thought the Crush would be.

Chica: I reckon he'd be about average.
'Muffin: Do you not think he'd be big?
Chica: Nah. 6 inches is about average.
'Muffin: (face falling) 6 inches?!!!!
Chica: Um, yeah, so I've read.
'Muffin: Hard?!

Laughed My Ass Off. But I also learned a new phrase from the 'Muffin, and though you're probably familiar with it, I give it to you now: Wankers 'tash.

That is all.