Rusty Beach

It’s hard to believe that I can honestly say I have seven years of professional work experience (professional, sometimes). I still remember my freshman year in high school wearing flannel and listening to Pearl Jam.  I remember idolizing the school’s heartthrob, Mike M, and waiting for him to walk by my fifth hour class.  I would never say anything to him.  Of course not.  I would just stare.

Now, I am a part of America’s cubicle farm.  Where millions of us sit in front of a computer waiting for the little yellow envelope to appear for some excitement.  Sometimes, we get a little silly and go on Facebook during work hours for a quick peek.  So rebellious.  It’s funny how in 15 years, I went from stalking a guy in the hallway to stalking status updates on the Internet.  And occasionally, while committing my scandalous visits to Facebook, I dream a little dream to ease the pain of policies and procedures.  

I daydream about beer and how my mouth waters with anticipation when I pour it into a frosted glass mug. 

I daydream about Aruba and how relaxing it is to sit on the sandy beach drinking beer and eating peanuts.  

I daydream about Margaritas served on the rocks with salt. 

I daydream about all the different types of shots.  Red headed sluts.  Kamikazes.  Lemon drops.  Just to name a few.     

I daydream about late night snacks and drinking beer.  Yum.  Cheesy spinach artichoke dip and chips.  Hot buffalo wings.  Potato Chips.  Yum.  Yum.  Yum.

I daydream about going to local bars while on vacation and hanging out with the friendly happy locals.

I daydream about rooting for the home team with a hot dog in one hand and a 32 oz. beer in the other. 

Oh, the list goes on and on and on and on…

Tags: Alcohol, Aruba, Bars, Beach, Beer, Cheese Dip, Corporate America, Daydreaming at Work, Dutch Beer, Facebook, Food, Heineken, Hot Dogs, Hot Wings, Kamikazes, Lemon Drops, Margarita, Party Dip, Red headed sluts, Shots, Travel, Work