Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Email to Caroline

Hey sis,

Chad and I will meet you at Wagamama's in Covent Garden at 6. Maybe some shopping after. Can't wait to see you, and I have a gift for Chloe.

Love you.

The 10th Floor

I did go up to the 10th floor today. I don't usually go see Chad at work, but sometimes it is just necessary. My boss, Newt, has been especially evil today. I took the stairs. I always take the stairs because I hate exercising, and I feel as though if I always take the stairs, I will be justified in exercising less. Plus, one very rarely sees someone they try to avoid in the stairway. On the elevator, one most always sees people they want to never see again. Anyway, when I walked through the double glass doors to the marketing and advertising office, everyone was staring at me. This is very common since the office is completely divided over whether or not to like me. There's this total cow of a woman called Francine. She had been trying to shag with Chad, and according to her, had him almost convinced. There was about a month when Chad and I broke up because we had just been together so long. It was obvious though, that we couldn't make it without each other. Still that month was her month of glory. Francine has successfully turned about half of her office against me. The other half loves me for getting back with Chad and once and for all shutting off all chances of her actually succeeding in her mission.

I walked up to Chad's desk, and he was there, looking all sheepish like he always does when he does something nice. Almost as if he regrets it because now he'll have to face some showing of emotion--every man's enemy. Sitting on his desk was this huge basket full of Aero bars and a note that says, "To: Jane From: Chad I love you." Everyone knows I live and die for Aero bars.

About this time, Francine, that lovely woman, prances up to Chad's desk, sits on it, and grabs one of my Aero bars. Chad says, "Oh thank you, Francine. Yes I should have known you'd want one right away, Jane." Takes it from her hand, unwraps it, and hands it to me. Francine huffs and walks away, and Chad winks at me.

Now, I don't want you to think that Chad and I are the horny couple that always hooks up in the office. In fact, we very rarely even talk to one another at work save the occasional e-mail. So today was a rare occasion. But the sex we had in the filing room today totally prepared me for facing my family after work. I kissed him and said, "Wagamamas at 18." And I swear I got all of my work done for the day. Well. Most of it.

Monday, April 6, 2009

E-mail from Caroline

Hi Sis,

Daddy wanted me to let you know that we're in London. We've checked into our hotel, The Washington in Mayfair. It's really nice. My room is 531. Let us know when you get off work, so we can plan on dinner. Chloe says can we please eat at Wagamama. She's been jumping on the bed screaming Wagamama since we arrived. Dad and May were right to get their own room.

Save me.


E-mail from Chad


Just wanted to tell you that I can't wait to hang out with your family tonight. Dinner on me. Come up to the 10th floor if you get the chance today.

Love you, Chad

Sunday, April 5, 2009

My family is coming to visit. I am at a loss for words. I hate it when they come here.

My dad, stepmum, sister, and niece. They all live in Manchester. I love all of them. But the whole lot of them together is so overwhelming. I mean, they can't all even fit in my flat. They have to get a hotel room.

It's not that there's any tension or unresolved issues or anything I have with them. It's just they belong to a different part of my life, and when those two parts of my life mingle with one another, it makes me very extremely uncomfortable. This is why I hate it HATE IT when Chad spends time with my family.

See, my dad is British, but he moved to the states and attended an American university. That's where he met my mum, an American. Soon after I was born (and my sister was 4), we moved to Manchester. My mum and dad split up when I was 10. I moved back stateside with my mum, but my sister, Caroline, stayed with my dad. I stayed in the states until I was 18. My mum died, and although I was enrolled at university, I saw no point in remaining. I moved to Manchester to live with my dad and enrolled in university in London. Then I moved to London, where I met Chad.

It was about this time when my sister met Will. He was great, and the whole family loved him. My dad walked her down the aisle after she'd known Will for like 2 weeks. Okay, it was more like 5 months, but still. This was big for Caroline because she never does anything without thinking about it and compulsively listing the pros and cons. Will was a nice change for her. The day they got back from their honeymoon in Nice, they found out Will had advanced cancer. He lived a year, and the day before he died, Caroline found out she was pregnant with Chole. It's all very dramatic, and no one in the family has really gotten over it.

Anyway, they're coming tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

All in the Name of Corporate

Work has been so tiring.

It may be obvious by now that I write for a magazine. It's called MetroLife, and we target young, professional men and women living and working in London. I write a women's interest column in each monthly issue, which usually entails giving my opinions about dating, beauty, or fashion. I enjoy the things I get to write about, but I seriously think our subscription list is up to like 12 people. In all of London. Of coures it's quite plausible that people buy them on their way to work at the newstand in the train station, but who knows? I'd like to write something that would reach more people, but I can't complain. My coworkers are fun, and my boss isn't so bad.

When I say my coworkers are fun, I am specifically referring to the human interest column writers. The other writers are cows.

Sports Writers: Always stare when I walk through their office. I mean it's like they've never seen a woman before.

News Writers: Sit around all day and read newspapers. Then basically copy what they've read into their columns.

Finance Writers: Nerds. Always counting things. Weird.

Editors: Mean. I make it a personal rule to never even go into the editing room. Anything could happen, right? There could be a lockdown, and I'd be stuck in there with them. That would simply be unbearable, unendurable. I e-mail my columns each month to the human interest editor, Roman Billington. For the first couple of months of my employment at ML, I personally strutted up like the committed employee I was and handed my stories to him. Then I realized his clammy hands always lingered on mine, and I feared he'd start entertaining some sort of fetish fantasy about my hands. So now I e-mail them and pray he doesn't dream of my fingers manipulating the keyboard as I wrote that piece.

See, ML is owned by a larger company we've all heard of--Parker and Nicks, of energy bar fame. Stephen Parker and Jeremy Nicks were the front runners of the energy bar fad. Now they have a megacorporation that sells everything from sportswear to smoothies. And they also run MetroLife, so they are my bosses.

Anyway, the point of all of this is that Parker and Nicks inc. has been in talks about shutting down the magazine because of low subscription rates. So we've been under a lot of stress to make the magazine as good as possible. That's where Chad comes in. He works for P&N, too, in the Marketing and Advertising department. The future of the magazine lies in the hands of Chad and his coworkers. This stress has been really getting to him, and we haven't had any fun in the past week or so. Sometimes, he'll say he'll stay over, and he'll end up passing out in my bed, leaving Catherine and me watching tellie like we would if he weren't even there.

Hopefully, these things will work themselves out. I'm in a desperate need for an outing.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

ten undeniable reasons to avoid those Wellies knock-offs with bold prints

Ten Undeniable Reasons to Avoid Those Wellies Knock-Offs With Bold Prints
By: Jane Willoughby

We all feel nostalgic when we slip on wellies. It is impossible to forget days spent in the country on bank holidays with your mum and daddy jumping in puddles in your bright yellow wellies. Somehow, your pink glitter jeans still managed to get soaking wet. However, we are adults now--young professionals. It is time to grow out of the clothes we wore to grammar school and make a fashion move to office wear. This doesn't mean you dress like a corpse, or worse, a governess. You simply must move for more flattering styles, sillouettes, and color balances. In case you are inclined to hang on to your Kate Spade wellies with the bright pink flowers (remember, just because they have a designer label does not mean they are fashionable. Designers must hit the geriatric and secondary school markets as well), here are the reasons I decided to give up my wellies and pass them down into consignment stores last week.

10) Long legs will never go out of style. Short stubs hidden by bright boots will never go in.

9) The wellies that resemble brown riding boots are much more chic for the same price.

8) What if you meet the man of your dreams, and he thinks you're 15 because you're wearing juvenile boots, so he doesn't even look at you for fear of incarceration?

7) Even if they are designer, they look knock-0ff. Do you want people to think you got them at Oxfam?

6) What use do you have for jumping in puddles anyway?

5) It sounds much more professional to click up the marble staircase in your office than to squeak up it. You want a promotion don't you?

4) If you're going for a quick snog after work, it's much sexier to slip off a strappy sandal or stiletto pump than to plop down and pull off your Wellies before getting to it.

3) Afraid to get your new True Religions straight from NYC wet? There's no better opportunity to wear that great new skirt from Harrod's. You should be supporting British heritage anyway!

2) Loud Wellies are bound to distract from your real outfit, and you spend Lord-knows-how-many quid on that new jewely purple silk top.

1) They are ugly.