Day Fourteen. A Bevy Of Botox Babes.

In an office of over 95 women, I’d say about 85 have had Botox and/or some sort of cosmetic surgery within this year (yes, I am talking about 2011, must of been a sale). Botox is discussed in this office as often as the weather, and since these gals are mostly over 60, you know for shit sure that they talk about the weather A LOT. The lastest person to get a little injection of that sweet little toxin is Ms. Pink, she's actually one of the nices bitches in here, she's the top producer, sweet as pie, cute as a button, skinnier than one of my thighs  (and I got some gams), trendier than the latest model walking down the runway at Bryant Park during fashion week...and she messed perfection and fucked up her lips something good. Let's just say Goldie Hawn in The First Wives Club, think Lisa Rinna, think, think, think Meg Ryan. That bad. It's hard to look at her because it's so bad, and just for the record, it was NOT needed at all.  That's what happens when you try to keep up with the Joneses, or drink the Kool-Aid or you absolutely do not think for yourself.

Oy.To.The.Vey.