Pillow Book

I had the opportunity to hang art for one of our biggest clients today. Not very exciting but I always enjoy getting paid for things that don’t require me to physically be at work. It makes me feel like I’m not really working.

Anyway I had to make two trips to bring in all the art. So I was on the elevator going down and when the door opened and I started to get off but it wasn’t my floor. So I made a comment to the man getting on the elevator about being programmed to get off when the door opened no matter what floor you’re on. He replied, “Maybe you should have gotten off.” But I could tell what he really meant was if you’re too stupid to use the elevator you should take the stairs.

I would like to say it took every bit of my self-control to keep from getting off on the very next floor and pushing all of the buttons between him and the floor he was destine for. I could see past his condescending corporate tone and knew right away that he was a peon headed for a smoke and any elevator snafu would eat up his measly 15min break rendering him with no other choice but to wait until after work for that smoky nicotine goodness.

Being almost 30 is not what stopped my childish impulse to fuck with this man, nor the risk of loosing my job. It was merely the fact that it would have required effort on my part to spite him and fortunately for him I’ve grown lazy in that aspect.

I did get the last laugh, if only in my mind. We ended up in the same elevator going back up and this time I had two very large pieces of framed art. “ART” he said. “And what do you have?” “Something very special.” My retort, in a tone that said you and I are not friends. And though I didn’t even turn to look at him as I spoke, I could see out of the corner of my eye he was straining his neck in an effort to see what I had.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 05:37 PM | Permalink

I'm talking about the 23rd annual contemporary art festival.
Magic City Art Connection.

April 28-29-30,2006
10 a.m. thru 6 p.m. daily
Linn Park in downtown Birmingham, AL.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 09:09 PM | Permalink

My mother was pouting the other day because my dad won’t “let” her retire. This from the same woman who taught me to “NEVER let a man tell you what to do with your money.” He tells her they don’t have enough money yet. And the sad thing is, I don’t blame him. I mean, my mother writes the checks for every bill in the household. My mother is also the one that gathers all their information to take to the accountant every tax season. If she can’t do a simple assessment of their retirement moneys and figure out if that will be enough money to retire with, how will she ever be able to manage her retirement budget?

It’s got me scared to death. I will be 30 this year and I have not started saving for retirement. So not only will I likely end up in the same boat as my parents, I’ll be taking care of them as well.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 09:33 PM | Permalink

Last Wednesday was such a big day for me it has taken me this long to get around to writing about it. I started the day by dressing up. Normally I dress down because my job is pretty messy but a girl gets tired of looking like a Wal-Mart shopper. For lunch I went over to the Birmingham Botanical Gardens to catch the last of the cherry trees in full bloom. I wish I had my camera.

After work I took Angelbaby to Rib City because I didn’t want to ruin my good day by being frustrated in the kitchen. Just as my waitress was bringing out my pork sandwich I get a call from Tori. “Guess who’s opening for Ministry?” “I give up.” “AARON!” “No way.” “Yes.”

In the middle of discussing the specifics of our friend drunk-Aaron opening for Ministry, I let her go to answer a call from The Rascal. “I’m going to Russia for free!” was the first thing I heard. “RUSSIA? When?” “This summer.” “How LONG are you staying?” “A week.” After I was clear on the fact that he was not leaving me for a mail-order bride I let him go so I could eat.

Wow, a boy I kissed is going to open for Ministry and my man is going to Russia for a free vacation. Good day huh?

Not so much.

Picture it- Irish is now at home in her favorite pink Old Navy pj bottoms. Angelbaby is still up finishing her homework. And I get another call. It’s the Rascal. Out on the town. He stopped off at the local pub to have a drink to celebrate his good news and at this point he has decided to play a game I like to refer to as the taming of the shrew. Where as the part of the shrew is played by yours truly Irish Geisha. There is only one rule and it is as follows: No matter what the Rascal does or says, I am to trust him completely.

This is not the first time I played the game. I am sure it will not be the last. But further explanation on the subject will have to be deferred as it was not the game specifically that turned my day sour. While playing the game the Rascal mentioned going to Hooters. Like clockwork I gave my stock reply “YOU STAY AWAY FROM THOSE HOOTERS WHORES!” And with that statement in play, the only choice before him was to in fact Go Directly to Hooters (Do not pass Go, Do not collect $200.)

So he got off the phone to pay his tab and the next call I got the Rascal was sitting in Hooters. “Is your computer on?” It was. “ Go to imdb.com and see what was the first movie that Harry Potter kid starred in.” I didn’t ask why, the Rascal often calls me for information when he is away from his computer. “Who are you arguing with?” I say. “Look up blah, blah, blah- I’m not arguing with anyone.” I gave him the second answer “Then why do you need to know this crap?” “I’m at Hooter’s trivia.” I asked him if the other bloggers were there and his reply was “No baby, I’m at the good Hooters.” The good Hooters he says, implying that such a place exists.

Well, as it turns out the other bloggers were there. HD called me after he got home. I was sure he had recognized the Rascal and was calling to chastise me for feeding the Rascal answers. Not the case. I ended up selling myself out and to make matters worse, I laughed about it to his face because I didn’t realize that he was actually angry.

He demanded a public apology and a wing party or else he was going to remove me from the combloggerator. Who knew HD was an advocate of extortion? It was truly upsetting. Even though he caved like Richard Scrushy’s Empire, I would still like to apologize to HD and to all of the bloggers for their loss. And offer my only excuse- the devil made me do it. And by devil- you know who I mean.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 09:01 PM | Permalink

I've been looking over my stats page for irishgeisha.com and I am proud to say that even though this person doesn't comment. Ever. Someone in Germany loves me. I don't know any germans. Well except for Solfrank.(Tori's ex) I think his peeps are german, but he is american. I used to know an american couple living in Bitburg. Hmm.

With that said I will now enlighten my readers with a list of phrases that have connected my blog with some very disappointed searchers.

1.white cotton panty pictures

2.colette pillow boobs

3.irish republican tattoos

4.naked irish women

5.pillow under ass

And to the sick fuck that keeps searching the phrase-"jesus christ fucked your mom today amen" You are boring me! Get a new hobby.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 10:14 PM | Permalink

I am blaming my current bout of writer’s block on the Rascal. It’s only fair. Since he blames me for any lack of posting on his blog that occurs. Anyway, he told me my blog has no theme. NO THEME!?! Isn’t it obvious? The theme is ME. ME, ME, ME. It’s all about me. Is that so wrong? I didn’t argue the point. Mostly because I wasn’t in the mood to argue. But I started to think. (Yes, I think sometimes.) Maybe my blog needs a theme. Other than “ME” that is.

NAH!

Posted by Irish Geisha at 07:42 PM | Permalink