Are there any predictions of doom for tonight? Is the world going to come to an end with the coming of the new year? Or will 2004 flip the apocalypse the bird and go 'nyah nyah nyahnyah nyah you can't catch me!'? Will 2004 be that daring? Will Cher really never tour again? Is orange really the new maroon? Can I eat my fifth Krispy Kreme donut of the day and still fit in my car for the drive home?

Gee. So many questions, so little brain to figure them out.

Okay, so I have a brain. It's just that the S. N. O. T. (Super Naughty Orifice Terrorizer) boogers have taken over control of most brainily functions. Such as the part of the brain that distinguishes between real and made up words. (yeah. that's right. brainily! look it up.) And control over internet lookage while Mr. BigBossMan is in the office. (D'oh!) And weird ponderings of random questions. (Is there anyone who can believe it's not butter? Are objects in mirror ever further away than they appear?)

I feel like I should write something insightful. Something meaningful. Something about the fact that there only a few hours left of the current year to be wasted away. I've seen several sites talk about blog new years resolutions. I should come up with some of my own. But I can't think of anything. Insightful, meaningful, or resolution-y wise. So I'm going to play around with some quizzes I found over at Betty's Maximum Verbosity.



You shall be taken from this place and released, only to meet with an accident in a deserted location soon after. We're glad you chose to finally accept our paradigm, but you must understand we can't risk you getting any more of those funny ideas.
How will you be executed come the revolution? brought to you by Quizilla

I've got funny ideas! Wooooo!

So where are they? Where are these funny ideas of mine? "Cause they certainly ain't around here at the moment. :)

My Motto For The New Year: beware the deserted locations with rapidly falling planes lest ye get smoosh-ed to death.



Homicidal Tendencies
Which Inner Demon (tm) Possesses You? brought to you by Quizilla

Damn. I wanted my inner demon to be 'Psychotic Paranoia'. Blood is okay. But paranoia is fun! You're never bored with a bit of psychotic paranoia being all demon-y deep inside you.

Your New Motto For The New Year: stay away from the loon when she's feeling homicidal.

"Hey beeyotch! I said I wanted the donut with the red sprinkles. RED SPRINKLES! Who eats green sprinkles? They're poison I tell you! They want you to eat them. Wait. Get back here! Don't run away from me! I want to poke you repeatedly and in the same spot with my sharp pointy spork!"

Hmmm... homicidal tendencies and psychotic paranoia. Fun combo. :)

In case I don't post again before midnight, happy new years everybodys!

Oops. Forgot to do this the other day.

Unconscious Mutterings

1. Seeker:: Harry Potter
   
2. Mirror:: of Erised
   
3. Fire:: and ice
   
4. Goblet:: of Fire
   
5. Empty:: Nest
   
6. Secrets:: Victoria
   
7. Defense:: Mechanism
   
8. Hatchet:: Ratchet
   
9. Vapour:: Vicks
   
10. Ministry:: of Magic

Gots me a bit of Harry Potter on the brain I guess. :)

New Year's Resolution version of Tuesday is Chooseday

For the next year, would you rather:

1. give up sweet foods (anything naturally or artificially sweet) OR gain 40 pounds because you didn't?

I'd rather give up sweet foods.

I don't really care to gain 40 pounds for the pleasure of eating them. This is something I'm going to try and stick to next year. Probably. Hopefully. Bye-bye sweet foods! Don't forget to write!

2. taste nothing but the flavor of oranges OR only wear the color orange (all the way down to your underwear)?

I'd rather wear only orange clothes.

I appreciate the many wonderful tastes that are out there too much to give them up. What do you do one day when you're craving the taste of something spicy? The citrus-y taste of an orange just ain't gonna cut it.

Besides, the color orange isn't that bad. I kind of like it. I don't own a lot of orange clothes, but I have a few. And if I had to, I could wear all orange for a year. It couldn't be that bad. Could it?

In college I had a few classes with Lime Green Girl. For the life of me I can't remember her name right now (and its right there on the tip of my tongue too) but if you mentioned Lime Green Girl to someone, more often than not they knew who you were talking about. She wore every type of lime green you could ever imagine existed. Dark lime green, light lime green, deep rich lime green, dull lime green, shiny lime green, sparkly lime green, etc. She even had lime green accessories. Lime green pens, lime green backpacks, lime green shoelaces, lime green eye shadow, a lime green car, etc. The girl loved her lime green in a very scary way. It was as if she only saw the world in black and white, except for things in lime green, so she bought everything in lime green to surround herself in a bit of color. Why else would anyone be so in love with lime green?

Anyways, if she could rock the lime green for several years, certainly I could rock the orange for a year. Certainly!

And for Halloween, I'd already have my costume. I'd be a pumpkin! Or a great big orange crayon. Or Scary Lady Who Only Wears Orange. I bet that will be a popular costume next year.

3. shout obscenities at every person who pisses you off (so loud that anybody within earshot turns to look) OR punch one person a month who pisses you off?

I would rather shout obscenities.

Shouting obscenities is fun. Doing it gives me warm fuzzies. Great big radioactive science-experiment-gone-terribly-wrong Godzilla sized fuzzies. If I couldn't cuss at the stupid drivers on the freeway who piss me off I'd burst from frustration. And I'd hate to have to clean up the mess afterwards.

4. cry uncontrollably whenever you get a bill (at a store or restaurant) OR fart noticeably every time you laugh?

I'd rather cry uncontrollably.

I mean, I'm almost on the verge of tears now when I receive a bill. (Damn you Evil Debt Monster!) Why not take it a step further? And if I go to the same restaurant every time, and cry every time, maybe they'll feel sorry for me once and forget to charge me for something. That would be fun. :)

Farting is fun, but I laugh a lot. A lot a lot. If I farted that much I think it would loose some of its fun points. Especially if there were people within earshot. And grandpa wasn't around to use as a scapegoat. A few farts here and there is fine, but after awhile people might start to wonder what was wrong with me. "Oh dear, you farted again. Is your sphincter on the fritz?" "No Auntie Marge, it's just some guerrilla gas bubbles. I just can't seem to keep those little fuckers under control. But thanks for asking."

See? I'd rather cry instead and save the hassle of sphincter questions for another time.

Last Saturday, while I was up at my parent's house, my mom hooked up her new phone/answering machine hybrid doohickey.

Mom: [looking at me] Would you like to program our welcome message?

When I was younger and still living at home Mom talked me into recording the answering machine welcome message. I did it using my best kiwi/aussie accent (which isn't authentic any more... darn it) and said things like g'day and stuff. It was pretty silly. And I was all for doing the silly again.

Me: [rubbing hands together like super evil genius] Sure!

She sat down on the couch and I got up and stood by the answering machine. I pushed the 'change' button and then the 'announcement' button and was all ready to go.

Machine: After the beep, record your message. Push the 'stop' button to finish. BEEP.

Me: Where the hell is the 'stop' button? *searching sea of buttons* Oh. *thinks about smacking palm to forehead but pushes stop button - that is right in front of nose - instead*

When you push the 'stop' button the machine replays the message you recorded. So you can hear how dumb you sound.

Machine: Where the hell is the 'stop' button? [pause] Oh. BEEP.

BRILLIANT!

Well, okay, not so much. But that was just a first try. I had more better one's up my sleeve. Plus more better grammar.

Me - Take Two: Hey. Leave a message. Or whatever. Bye.

Mom cocked her head to the side and looked at me disapprovingly, just like the time I brought home a dead bird between my teeth, my tail wagging- er, wait a sec... that was that one dog we had. Hmmm.... Well, Mom still gave me 'that look'. The look that says 'ha ha you think you're so cute and funny but your not so do it right this time buster'. Mom is good at that look. Not that she's had any chance to practice it while raising me, mind you. Nope. Not at all. It's all from dealing with my bro. Yep. It's all from him. Yep yep yep. :)

Anyways... I decided to record another message. I probably should have written down what I was going to say, but that's for amateurs. I am a pro.

Me - Take Three: Hi. We can't come to the phone right now because we... [insert big pause here while I try and remember the big fancy word that popped into my head just a moment before that would have conveyed exactly the image I wanted to caller to have, would have summed up what a string of words couldn't, and would have, in essence, been PERFECT]... are otherwise busily engaged.

Busily engaged? What the...? That is not the word, or words, I was searching for. But that's what came out of my mouth. Mom didn't like it too much. And after I thought about what I'd just said I could see her point. It sounds as if they're doing something naughty. Especially with the pause right before the 'busily engaged' bit.

Mom: Change it.

Me: I will. *goes and sits down on couch*

Mom: *gives 'the look'*

Me: *repels 'the look' with anti-look-stick-spray*

Mom: *employs handy parental tactic* Busily engaged. That doesn't sound too nice. It reminds me of... Well, I guess you're old enough to hear about these things.

Me: *nodding cooly 'yes' but thinking 'NOOO!'*

Mom: One time my mother came over to the house, and your father and I were, well, busily engaged, and she kept knocking and knocking on the door. When we finally opened it she couldn't figure out what took so long. 'I knew you were in there,' she said. 'What were you doing?' *chuckle chuckle chuckle* She had no idea we-

Me: allrightythenhowaboutIchangethemessagenow.

Mom: *smiling victoriously*

She went outside to feed the dog. I paced around the living room trying to think of a new message. Then it hit me!

Me - Take Four: Hi. You've reached 555-5555. The people who would normally answer this phone are doing something they'd rather be doing than answering this phone. So leave a message.

Heh. Heh. Heh. Mom came in and heard the message. She sat on the couch next to me and shook her head.

Me: *looking innocent* Whaaaaaaaaaat?

Mom: You need to change it again. I don't like cute messages.

Yeah. Whatever Mom. You used to. You're just getting soooooo ooooooold now. :)

Me: Okay, how about this? 'Hi. You've reached 555-5555. My mom doesn't like cute messages so this won't be cute.'

Mom: Your mom? How about my mom? If my mother heard that she'd be so disappointed in you. She'd think no one wanted to talk to her. You'd better change it before she calls.

Me: Okay. How about 'We're screening our calls so say something snappy.'

Mom: *gives 'the look' again with a slight smile*

Me: *thinking 'I'm wearing her down! Eventually one of these cute messages will stick! MWAHAHAHAHAAA!'*

And then, I swear to you, no more than a minute later the phone rang. I was sitting closest to the phone but didn't get up to answer it. I kinda wanted someone to hear my message. I looked at Mom and smiled. The phone rang again and she shot up from the couch to answer it before the machine picked up. Guess who it was...

Grandma!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I giggled evilly. Mom rolled her eyes. Fun stuff. :)

After she got off the phone my mom decided to take matters into her own hands.

Mom's First Try: Hi. We're not in right now so... uh... uh... leave a message.

I was busy in the kitchen, but could still hear her fumble over the words, so I started to chuckle. Especially as I watched her hunt for the sneaky 'stop' button.

Machine: Hi. We're not in right now so [pause] uh [pause] uh [pause] leave a message [longer pause] *very faint chuckle chuckle chuckle in the background* BEEP.

The machine picked up on my chortling! Heh. Heh. Heh.

Mom didn't want to mess with it again - not while I was around - so she walked away from the answering machine and sat back down on the couch.

I'm thinking about changing my own answering machine message. Maybe I'll use one of the messages I tried out at my parent's house. And maybe I'll do it with a poorly faked 'down under' accent. :)

I've been gone since Wednesday. In the computer sense, that is. I haven't played in blog land, surfed around the rest of the 'net, played freecell addictively, or even just sat in front of a computer and stared at a blank, lifeless monitor (not that I do that sort of thing, mind you) for four whole days!

I thought about getting on the computer at my parent's house on Saturday, but they've got a very slow connection and its torture going to some sites. I could have at least checked my email (i.e. weeded out spam build up) but I decided not to. I resisted the urge. Yes, Luke, the force is strong with me.

But now I'm back, from outer space... er, wait, I've got disco song lyrics messing up my inner monologue here. Sorry 'bout that folks. So, um... okay... now I'm back from my parent's house and my mini vacation. And I brought with me a great big pain-in-the-sinus-cavities cold. Bleh. Being sick sucks. Sucks those nasty Sucrets throat lozenges my mom used to give me. I hated those things. They left such a nasty taste in my mouth. Bleh.

Good thing about having this cold: all the sneezing! I love sneezing. Though a lot of the sneezes took place on Saturday, when I was driving home on the freeways for a couple of hours. It's kind of scary to be sneezing while whizzing down a mountain in the dark. Especially when it’s a really big sneeze that let's loose a whole solar system of germs and requires your eyes to be shut for more than a couple seconds. Scary shit that is.

Bad thing about the cold: the type of sneezes. Usually when I sneeze I can do the silent sneeze or the girly dainty sneeze, only making a petite 'choo' noise. But with this cold, doing the silent/dainty sneeze is not an option. The sneezes are powerful and pack a wallop of a punch, the kind of punch that forces snot to explode from your nose holes at 25 mph. 'AAACHOOOOOO!' If I tried to contain that sneeze inside I'd have massive internal bleeding from the bursting of one of my organs. So I'm sneezing here at work, letting the sneeze have free reign, and hoping I don't hurt anyone with my Killer Flying Snot.

Another good thing about this cold: I'm kind of dizzy right now. Not a bad gonna-fall-and-whack-my-head-on-something-sharp sort of dizzy. It's more like a spacey ain't-this-fun-the-room-is-sort-of-tilting-wheeeeeeeee kind of dizzy. Good stuff. Great for work productivity. And disconjointed blog posts.

(Disconjointed isn't a word. At least that's what the spell checker says. I left it in there because I can't think of the word I meant to write. That's what an over abundance of snot does to me, besides making me loopy. It makes me forget words. Discombobulated? That's a cool word. But no, that's not quite the word I was thinking of. Oh well. Sad thing is I don't need to be sick and full of Killer Snot for me to be loopy and word forgetful. ::sigh::)

This morning, when Mr. OfficeBoss (who was home sick with the flu for a whole week) noticed my funny voice (its that sore throat voice that's barely audible. I'm thinking of picking up some extra cash working for one of those freaky fetish 900 phone lines for guys who like to talk with craggily voiced women), he said, ever so thoughtfully, "YOU DON'T HAVE THE FLU DO YOU?!?!"

Gee, worried about my well being? Thanks. "No." I said. "Just a cold. But it could turn into the flu. If you're worried about catching it you can send me home. I won't mind."

Since I'm still here at work I'm guessing he's not too worried about catching my cold. Ha! Wait till I go use his phone and cough all over his desk! That will teach him to send home the sickies before its too late!

Hmm... I wonder if they'll ever put the complete series of Animaniac cartoons on dvd. That would be awesome. Just a discombobulated thought. (That is one of my new favorite words. Discombobulated. I'm thinking of adopting it.)

Good Idea, Bad Idea

Good Idea: Going to the DMV on Christmas Eve (seriously, there was no one there! The H.B. and I were waited on right away! It was awesome.)
Bad Idea: Driving on major freeways on Christmas Eve (seriously, who are all those crazy people driving Christmas night? Couldn't they have left earlier? Or waited a couple hours? Didn't they know I had somewhere to be?!)

Back to this I Have A Cold So Feel Sorry For Me bit. I hate blowing my nose in front of people who aren't my family or close friends. I think this stems from a particular incident back in the seventh grade. I was sitting in the back of Mrs. Beckley's class and very quietly and daintily blew my nose (its hard to blow your nose daintily but I managed. I've got skillz!) and the boy sitting next to me, my so called friend Chin Juan, (or was it Juan Chin?) said very loudly, 'EWWWW BOOOGERS!' Yes, it was embarrassing and no, I did not proceed to wipe my dirty kleenex all over his binder like I should have.

Just for the record, I only took one over-the-counter-cold-medicine pill this morning. Honestly. I have no idea where all the above jumblage came from.

I have to run to the bathroom now and blow my nose in private. After I go make a call on Mr. OfficeBoss's phone of course. :)

To peak in the closet or not to peak in the closet?

Wait! 'Peak'? Er... that's a post for another time. On a more x-rated blog. With a more acrobatic blog writer. (I'm telling you, it's a tiny closet). What I meant to type was...

To peek in the closet or not to peek in the closet? That is the question... At least it was. The question that is. But now that I've peeked the question is no longer a valid query to ponder.

Okay, 'peek' is the wrong word here. I didn't 'peek'. I threw the Hall Closet door open and full on fondled the new boxes of toys inside.

But I did NOT cave under the pressure of massive wondering. NAY!

I only opened my presents after the HB peeked at his. *mumble mumble little snooping bastard mumble mumble*

Okay, you see, I bought the HB a xmas pressie about a month ago. It was a very expensive paintball gun, one he's seriously been creaming over for about two years now. So I bought it for him. Then I gave it to him right then and there in the store. (The paintball gun that is, for all of you with the gutter minds.) I think he would have cried if I hadn't. He took it home and cleaned it and oiled it and petted it and whispered sweet nothings in its sliding bolt thingy. I think he would have slept with it under his pillow if he could have gotten away with it.

Since he already had his present, I thought it would be nice to get him a little something he could open up on xmas eve. I had the present (a pen/laser beam doohickey) in the bag it was put in at the store and threw that bag and all my other stuff on a chair when I came home Sunday. Since the HB was up at his parent's house (which is a few hours away) I was in no hurry to wrap it up, but I planned to wrap it on Monday anyway. Just because. But the power was out in my apartment for most of the night on Monday so I couldn't. I read by candlelight, but I didn't dare deal with tape and scissors and neat xmas wrapping paper folds in the dim, flickering light.

When I got home yesterday after work, guess who was there? The HB! He was home! After I pounced on him and slobbered him with kisses I got up to show him something I had bought for his parents. That's when I realized the plastic bag the present was in was out in plain sight. Maybe he hasn't noticed yet. I thought. Maybe I can cleverly and subtly slip it into my still-unpacked-mini-suitcase still on the chair. I pulled out the other present, showed it to him, walked back to the chair, slipped it into the plastic bag with his gift, and nonchalantly slipped the plastic bag into the mini-suitcase.

"By the way," the HB says with a mischievous grin, "thanks for the pen."

ARRRGGGGGG!

He snooped. He was there for only a couple of hours and he'd snooped like crazy! And the can of Sees toffee candy (pure to-die-for yumminess) my parents wanted me to give to his parents for xmas? Yep, he got into that too. He didn't know it was a gift, true. But still! Control yourself man!

So no surprises for him to unwrap tonight. He doesn't care though. He says he hates surprises. Hrmph! What a little turd. :)

But hey, at least that meant I could open up the presents he jammed in the closet because he didn't have time (and paper) to wrap them before he left. Wooo! 'Opening' presents early is fun.

The reason the HB had driven back down was because he had forgotten to bring something for his dad. He said subconsciously he probably wanted to forget it. I like to think subconsciously he wanted to see me again, and not just piss off his dad. :) So that's the theory I'm going with. Isn't his subconscious cute?! He's a snooping little turd, but his subconscious is cute. :)

Oh, and last night, I can't remember what we were talking about, but for some reason I mentioned that I call him 'the HB' on this here blog.

"HB?" he says. "That sounds like a venereal disease."

"No it doesn't!"

"I dated this girl last month and she gave me a bad case of HB."

"But..." I sputtered. "No... it..."

"See?" he says all smug like. "Told ya so."

"Oh shut up."

because it's been awhile since i've done one of these... and it goes toward meshing with the the whole not-gonna-do-any-work-at-work vibe that's going on right now...

What's On ... Right Now?

What's On your mousepad Right Now? (the design on it)

And the answer is...

NOTHING!

How about that answer? Great, huh? Oh. It's not? It's a waste of a post, of internet space? Really?

Well bite me. Who asked you anyway?!

Oh. Yeah. I did, didn't I?

Well then. I... uh...

I have a mousepad, but its old and dingy and crusty looking. And maroon. I inherited from someone else here at work. Probably the first guy here to ever recieve a fancy mousepad to go with his computer mouse. It's that old. Seriously. I have drawn a few stick figures on it. So I guess that counts.

What's on my mousepad? A little stickman army. That's what. :)

Anybody stuck at work today besides me? You are? Good! My misery will love your company. She hates to be the only one at a party, that Misery. She's not happy until others are around. Others she can mug, pants, maim, push off a jungle gym, and any thing else that will allow her to laugh at another's expense.

So you're invited to a party. A Misery party! Don't worry, me and my misery will be on our bestest behaviors.

Please, don't forget to R.S.V.P.!


Actually, I don't mind working today. I've got no were to be until later tonight (which means I'm going to have a bitch of a drive with freeway traffic tonight. On Christmas Eve. Bleh.)

So anyway, I just got into work and there's this relaxed feeling in the air. That may be due to the abundance of people already enjoying their Christmas vacation break. It doesn't feel like a normal workday here. At least for me it doesn't. Am I jealous of those not here? No. Not really. With them gone I got a primo parking spot. Right in front of the door! Go me! There's a jolly, playful feeling here as well. Everyone is counting down the hours until they can go home and enjoy this wonderful Christmas Eve.

Geez. I feel all warm and fuzzy today. :)

I also feel like doing absolutely no work today. But I have to. At least a little bit. The naked bare minimum. That leaves room for the play maximum.

Wheeeeeee!

Oh, and beware, I've got about two more long drawn out posts to type up and post today. :)

"When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you sometimes find that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it." -- Winnie The Pooh/A.A. Milne

Tuesday is Chooseday

I just can't think of anything funny to write for these today. Oh well. Here goes nothing (and I do mean nothing)...


Would you rather:

1. everybody forget to get you a christmas (or whatever holiday you celebrate) present this year OR you forget to get everybody a christmas (or whatever holiday you celebrate) present this year?

I'd rather be the one without presents instead of being the one who didn't bring any. 'Tis better to give than to receive and all that corny merry shit.

Plus, if I forget presents this year, the givers will be less giving next year. I may end up not getting anything next year. And that would suck.

But if everybody forgets me this year, I can make them all feel real bad. Really really bad. "It's all right. *sniff* I don't expect you to remember little ol' me. *sniff*" You know, put on the whole Eeyore routine.

"Nobody minds. Nobody cares. Pathetic, that's what it is." - Eeyore

I'll make them feel so bad they'll want to make up for it with next years gift. I'll score some awesome presents next year! Wooo!

2. be responsible for making 15 people homeless this winter knowing you'll be nice and comfortable OR lose your job tomorrow?

I'd make them homeless? It'd be my fault? And it's wintertime?

Well, let's say I'm asked to do something at work. If I do it, 15 become homeless. If I don't do it, I lose my job. Yikeees shnikeees. I don't think I could be the cause of 15 people becoming homeless right now. Especially with Christmas just around the bend. My job ain't all squirts and chortles to begin with, so losing it won't be too big a loss. So I guess I'd rather lose my job.

And hope I don't have to wait too long before cashing in on the good karma points I'd be racking up.

3. drink eggnog through a dirty sock OR eat roasted chestnuts that you found in the gutter?

I would rather drink eggnog through a dirty sock.

I'm assuming its mine - the sock I mean - and I know where my feet have been. Usually. So I know what my socks have been up too. (I keep them on a short leash). I'll know if any dogs have piddled on my socks, or something icky like that.

If I eat chestnuts found in a gutter, all manner of things could have sat, piddled, stepped, slimed, etc. etc. etc., on them. (My mind is so often in the gutter, I know how dirty it can get in there.) I don't want to eat any of the gross, ugly, evil germs that may contaminate the nuts. Bleah.

I'd much rather ingest my own germs. :)

4. have to french kiss your favorite aunt/uncle under the mistletoe OR be found shagging your neighbor's spouse during the holiday party?

There's no way I want to be in the situation where I 'have' to French kiss a relative, no matter if they're a favorite a not, so I'd rather be found shagging my neighbor's spouse. Especially if its my favorite neighbor's spouse. And I live next door to Gerard Butler's wife (once he has one).

::sigh:: Now that's a warm fuzzy thought to get me through the rest of the day. :)

I was kickin' it old old school last night. But not by choice.

My amish-like night was forced upon me by who knows what. Maybe some squirrel got hungry and thought the electricity wires looked munchable. It's happened before. I, along with my fellow college students, owe a crazy little squirrel for an all-classes-cancelled-because-there's-no-electricity day. Ah... good times. This time, however, I was just stuck at home with no electricity. Boy, let me tell you, that's always a nice greeting. 'Hey, welcome home! Don't trip and break anything! Ha Ha Ha.' I called the apartment office to see if I was the only lucky one, but it had affected three other buildings. Ha!

So anyway... I couldn't turn on the computer, television or radio, so I curled up on a chair next to a blinds-opened window (lamps didn't work), wrapped in a heavy comforter (heater didn't work), with a mini bag of cheetos (stove wasn't working so no dinner) and a really good book. And it was all good, because I was in a total curl-up-on-the-couch-with-a-book-and-blanket mood. So hey, how convenient!

I thought I'd read for a bit until the electricity came on. Then I'd cook up some dinner. Then read some more. But the electricity fixers were taking their sweet time! I thought about chilling at McDonald's with a cheeseburger and my book for a couple of hours, or braving the malls for a couple of hours, but I didn't want to go out anywhere. And I didn't want to have to come back home to a dark, non-electric apartment and try and relight my candle. Because by the time I thought of going out somewhere I was reading by candlelight (couldn't find the damn flashlight of course). It was kind of fun. With a dash of danger thrown into the pot for a bit of flavor. I had a big nice-smelling candle on my lap. I poofed up the blanket to surround the candle to keep it from falling over, and it was pretty secure, but there was always the possibility of tippage and spillage of hot wax all over the place. Yep. That's me. Danger Girl.

Plus, I'm trying to see how long I can stretch out the four dollars in my wallet without having to resort to pulling out the credit card. I think I might have to pull it out today though, because I'm almost out of cold medicine. Damn damn damn you cold germs! Go away already! You're not welcome here! And for some reason (probably because I can't afford it) I'm really in the mood for some heavily greasy hashbrown circle thingies from Carl's Jr. That sounds sooooo good right now. Damn damn damn you empty bank account!

So anyway... thankfully the electricity came back on around 9:30 that night. I was afraid I was going to have to resort to setting the alarm on my cellphone (who's battery was almost dead and couldn't be recharged because there was no electricity!) It probably would have woken me up, but I have a feeling Murphy's Law would have intervened.

I'm sorry, I can't make it into work today. See, my electricity is out. And I didn't wake up on time. And now that I'm late I might as well not come in at all. Yeah. Okay. So bye. The battery is almost dead on my ce--

And, by that time, I was tired of reading by candlelight, even though I was at a really good place in the book. So I turned on the tv and found the movie An Affair to Remember just starting. It was once more all good in the neighborhood. "It was the nearest thing to heaven." ::sigh:: I love that movie.

this is a scary map. it shows all the earthquakes that have happened in california in the last week.

total earthquakes shown at the moment: 265

eek! sure, a bunch of them are aftershocks of the 6.5 earthquake that rocked the central coast of california earlier this morning. and sure, most of the earthquakes shown are of the magnitudes of 1 and 2. (small time stuff i'm sure, even with all those faults running all willy nilly over the place. eek!) but still, that's a hell of a lot of rumblies in the earth's tummy. that can't be good. great googally moogally! we really are going to split apart from the rest of the continent one day.

wow. i just looked at the map again, and the number of earthquakes on the map is 278. that's a lot of aftershock rumblies. truly fascinating stuff.

Unconscious Mutterings

1. Exchange:: a bad xmas gift... the 'return items here' lines are ugly after xmas
   
2. Parental Advisory:: is advised... when listening to 'Best Of' clips of the Kevin & Bean morning show. :) (this morning it was their bit about 'Bee Porn'. Fabulous high-quality stuff there. hehehe)
   
3. Blowout:: super sale
   
4. Spider:: web... spider web, does whatever a big sticky net can (doesn't rhyme. Oh well.)
   
5. Happy:: -go-lucky
   
6. Intense:: outedgy (okay, so I drew big round blanks with this one causing my brain to go off in a tangent. Deal.)
   
7. Corrupt:: businessman
   
8. Got:: to go, I got to go (favorite part of the Gladys Knight 'Midnight Train to Georgia' song)
   
9. Crude:: lewd nude dude... rhyming=fun :)
   
10. Three:: times a lady... I bet she's lethal when she's PMS-ing :)

Let me just say that the HB is, in the words of Red Forman, a dumbass.

Yeah, okay, so I'm up at my parent's house on Sunday (having attended a friend's xmas party in p-town the night before) when my cell phone rings. It's the HB. He had just gotten off of work and was driving up to his parent's house for a few days of vacation. Yeah, he's off on vacation for the next two weeks. (phooey phooey phooey phooey!)

Okay, so he's driving, and since it was a nice sunny day I'm guessing he had the top down on his convertible because it sounded like he was in a hurricane. This is annoying for anyone on the other end of his cell phone call because most of what they hear is wind static. Dumbass. But hey, at least he thought to call. Anywhoo...

HB: Hi *wind static*
Me: Hi
HB: You'll have to speak up *wind static* I can't hear you.
Me: OKAY. HI!

I can barely hear him. He can barely hear me. It was a Hallmark moment.

HB: don't open the *wind static*
Me: WHAT?
HB: don't *wind static wind static* closet. The one by the bathroom.
Me: DON'T LOOK IN THE HALL CLOSET?

I don't know if it can really be called a Hall Closet since the hall is only about three feet long, but who cares. Calling it that makes the dinky apartment seem bigger. (And typing the first letters in upper case gives it more importance, like its grotesquely huge or something. I'll stop just short of putting 'The Grand' in front of it. That's a bit much, don't ya think?)

HB: Yeah. Don't look *wind static* presents *wind static* haven't wrapped them yet.
Me: !!!!

Presents? Unwrapped presents? Visible presents that I don't have to search for or carefully pull off the tape and wrapping paper so that I can see what's inside?

Me: Why not?
HB: What?
Me: WHY NOT?
HB: Because.
Me: *thinking 'oh great answer. Then thinking 'presents!'* ARE YOU COMING BACK BEFORE CHRISTMAS THEN TO WRAP THEM?

Since he's on vacation, he's spending the next few days up at his parent's house to hang out with his sisters and his little nephew. I have to work *grumble grumble grumble* but I'm driving up to see him on Christmas Eve. If there are unwrapped presents in the Hall Closet, then someone needs to wrap them before I bring them, right? Wrong.

HB: No. They're for after Christmas.

After Christmas?

Me: AFTER CHRISTMAS?
HB: Yes. Don't look okay?
Me: OKAY.
HB: So how'd it go *wind static* last night?
ME: I'LL TELL YOU ABOUT IT LATER. WHEN I DON'T HAVE TO YELL.

After we hung up I went and told my mom about the conversation.

Me: Why'd he have to tell me that? What a dumbass. Now I'm dying to know what's in that closet.
Mom: Too bad you can't look.
Me: Why can't I?
Mom: You promised.
Me: No I didn't.
Mom: You said 'okay'. That's a promise.
Me: Damn.

Damn her logic!

Why in the world are those hidden presents for after Christmas? What's the point in that? And if they aren't Christmas presents why can't I see them???

It's so frustrating! The HB told me where extra presents are. Presents I have to wait to see. I'm a peeker. He knows this. Surely he knows this. What in the hell was he thinking???

Okay, for the record, I'm not a real bad peeker. As a little kid, I never went looking through my parent's closets or the garage for presents. My brother probably did, but the thought never crossed my mind. When I was a bit older (when certain beliefs about Santa were long since devastatingly crushed) I would wait until the 'non santa' ones were wrapped and under the tree. Then, when the parents went out somewhere, I'd play Christmas Present Commando. Operation Sneak A Peek. I'd search for a present with my name on it, pick it up (being careful not to disturb the surrounding presents), then I'd carefully peel back the tape on one of the corners so I could see what was inside. I would repeat this until I got a clean look at one or two presents. Most of the time the tape was really sticky and I couldn't pull it off without tearing the wrapping (and that would have meant trouble!) To 'wrap up' the mission (hehehe) I pressed down on the tape, sealing up the present once more, then putting it back under the tree, right were I found it. I didn't do this often. But when I did it was extremely fun. That whole element of danger you know, of getting caught. Fun stuff that is! I haven't peeked lately, though I was tempted a year or so ago. I knew there was a jewelry box in my apartment. I knew there was a necklace inside because I'd gone with the HB to pick it out. But I couldn't decide which one I wanted so we left the store (with the HB still rolling his eyes) and he went back later without me, without me getting in the way. So he buys the necklace and leaves the box in the middle of the living room (we didn't have a tree). Sure, he hid it under a teddy bear. But I knew what was underneath it. Sort of. I didn't know which one he picked out. And I soooooo wanted to peek. But I didn't. Resistance was not futile.

So maybe the HB has faith in me that I won't peek again this time.

Or maybe he didn't have any other place to put them.

They must be pretty big if he had to hide them in the Hall Closet. There isn't much room to hide anything anywhere in our apartment. Except for in the Hall Closet. If it was at least medium sized, he could have found a better place to stash the pressies. I mean, I'd never go looking for 'after christmas' presents so I never would have found them. But if he had to hide them in the closet, I think I might know what it is. But if I'm right WHY CAN'T I OPEN THE CLOSET???????

It's driving me batty. Seriously. Last night, I'd be doing something, anything, like getting a glass of water or unpacking certain items from my little travel bag, and it would flash across my mind.

CLOSET.

Just that one word.

CLOSET.

Then I'd think about what was in the closet.

UNWRAPPED PRESENTS.

They have to be for me. If they weren't then why would I be barred from viewing them?

UNWRAPPED PRESENTS ARE WAITING FOR ME IN THE CLOSET.

Arrrrrggggghhhhh! Then later that night, during the dark and desperate hours of 9 pm... (okay, so that's not that late. But give me a break. I was tired from driving home. And I was up all night the previous night. And I'm not as young as I used to be. I'm almost *gasp* 30! hehehe.) Okay, back to what happened during the dark and desperate hours of 9pm...

Devil Snoopy Doll (with little red horns and a pitchfork): *POOF* [suddenly appears over left shoulder]
Me: ?
DSD: Go look in the closet. You know you want to.
Angel Snoopy Doll (with little wings and a halo): *POOF* [suddenly appears over right shoulder
Me: ???
ASD: Don't listen to him. Be strong.
DSD: Bah! What's the big deal? A little peek won't hurt.
ASD: Yes it will. She wants to be surprised.
DSD: She'll be surprised when she opens the closet won't she?
ASD: It's not the same. She wants to be surprised in front of her boyfriend!

See, this is what happens when I only get four hours of sleep because I'm up all night talking with the girls. (Love ya you little jabber monkeys!) I'm just out of practice with the whole Staying Up Late deal. The two snoopy dolls went on arguing for a few more minutes while I got ready for bed. (With my actual reindeer snoopy doll. He was the designated substitute bed sharer last night.) I figured I couldn't think about the closet if I was asleep. I also figured there were a couple more days left before I had to make the trek up north again, giving me ample time to snoop around later.

Help me.

I just found out there are peanut M&M's in the office. A big ol' 'Your Ass Ain't Nearly Fat Enough So Make Sure You Eat The Entire Bag' bag. I took a handful of M&M's. Because they were offered to me. And it would have been rude to turn down the offer. Wonderful logic, eh? :)

I've got eleven of them on my desk right now. And that's it. That's all I'm eating. And to stop myself from eating more I think I'm going to name them. That's right. I'm going to name my M&M's! Woo! (Do I know how to avoid work or what?!)

After I name them they become my friends. That's just how the Naming Things Game works. Same as with pets. Say, for example, you raise pigs for something like the 4H club, and you name the pig, it's harder to sell the little oinker to the slaughterhouse when the time comes because he's not just a pig anymore, he's your friend Mr. Oinkdexter! It's a good rule of thumb never to name anything you're going to eat. Uh, depending on what it is you're going to eat, of course. Or what someone else might eat. If you're lucky... (my mind just went to a really dirty dirty place right there. Heh. Heh. Heh. Excuse me a moment...)

Okay, so once I eat my little chocolate friends, I'm going to be saddened. And I won't want to eat any more of them. That's the brilliant plan. There is always the possibility that I'll want to make more friends, and will be tempted to grab another handful, but by the time I type this whole post up and actually get around to eating the M&M's (I can't eat them before I name them! And that's going to be a long, thoughtful process) I'm sure the M&M's bag will be empty. :)

[I'm posting this now (just for squirts and chortles)... and will be updating it with names in a bit. Stay tuned! SameDifferent Loon time. Same Loon channel!]

UPDATE #1



Name: Paulie
Color: green
Major default: He's got a crack in his head. Poor Paulie. He's a crack head.
Favorite saying: "Paulie want a cracked head! SQUAWK!"

Name: Albert
Color: brown
New Years Resolution: don't get eaten
Favorite hobby: channel surfing

Name: Yope-Jude
Color: blue
Name origin: Yope-Jude is named after the fish I had to poison for a science experiment in my high school biology class. He was such a brave little fishy. And so is this M&M.

UPDATE #2



Name: Georgia
Color: red
Former color: green
Why the color change operation: "I was tired of being a red M&M trapped in a green shell. It was time to let my true color shine."

Name: The Amazing Duffalack
Color: blue
Profession: circus performer
Claim to fame: best tight rope walker this side of Barny's Fat Barn

Names: Christy & Misty the Prissy Sissy twins
Color: yellow
Who's older: Christy
Who's prissier: Misty - she spends hours getting ready. ("It takes work to look this good!")
Who's the bigger sissy: Christy - she's afraid of orange M&M's. She screams every time she sees one. ("It's such a scary color!")
Who tastes better:
"I don't know. I'd say we taste about the same." -Christy
"I do. The boys always like me better." -Misty
"Bitch." -Christy

UPDATE #3



Name: Mr. Wiggles
Color: orange
Favorite pastime: Scaring the neighbor kids with tales of trolls living under piles of the kid's dirty clothes and eating their boogers while they sleep.
Second favorite pastime: Dancing to one of his John Tesh CD's.

Name: Riana
Color: green
Diagnosis: Suffers from the rare disease of Saythewrongthingus Atthewrongtimeus
Favorite saying: "Bite me!"

Name: Nefty
Color: blue
Nickname: Nifty Nefty The Nearsighted Nerd Boy
Favorite hobby: beating up people who call him Nifty Nefty the Nearsighted Nerd Boy

Name: Sassafrass
Color: red
Likes: dating purple skittles, long walks on a sand-less beach, colors that start with the letter 'L', pastel pasties and pink polka dots
Dislikes: dating green skittles, chocolate-aholics, lima beans, the word 'noodle'

UPDATE #4



Yum!

MWAHAHAHAHAHAAaaaaa!

___________

Okay. That's it for updates. The M&M's are all gone. And yes, I still managed to get my work done today. Go me!

Gripe-apalooza

Okay. So I don't know what to get my parents for Christmas this year. Me and the HB are sort of on a tight budget this year, so whatever we get them is going to be small. Like dinky ornament small. Which they would love and they wouldn't need anything else. So that would be super. We've got them covered. Check them off the list.

Yesterday I found the perfect gift. Well, not the perfect gift. But it's pretty damn spiffy. I think they'd get a kick out of it. But who knows, I'm a bad gift picker-outer. Anyways, I think they'd like it, so I want to buy it. Only problem is it's expensive. It's more than what I was planning on spending. A lot more. But I mentioned it to the HB and he said it sounded like a good idea.

ME: Can we spend this much on my parents and your parents?
HB: *making a cute little EEK! face* Sure.

He was going to get the gifts for his family at work. And it would have been really cheap. But last time we stopped by their house for a visit, they already had what he was going to get them. So now he's working on plan B.

But he said, 'Sure, buy the gift,' and that was all the convincing I needed. So this morning I set about buying it. It's off the 'net - a special offer from my company. Ain't that nice. (In case you couldn't tell, I typed that last sentence very sarcastically.)

I click on the item I want and go through the process of 'checking out' my 'cart'. On the main page of the item, underneath the price there was this line: $5 shipping surcharge applies. I thought, 'hey, five dollars ain't bad.' Then I get to the page where they want me to put in my credit card number. And I see the final total. They've added on 15 dollars for shipping! Holy Price Gauging Up The Ass Batman! Dude! The item is small. It's a little book. There's no way it will cost 15 fucking dollars to ship that thing! Maybe that's a special rush for the holidays. Who knows. And maybe it comes from overseas for some reason. Bleh. That means the gift costs twenty more dollars than what I thought. And that's a lot. Especially when we've got to spend money on his parents because Plan A fell through. Damn. I've got to do some complicated money shuffling in my head now. I hate playing musical chairs with bills and money.

::sigh::

Being broke sucks.

Vendor Sucking Up Update

Vendors keep bringing in sweet snacks and desk calendars (with their name and phone numbers prominently displayed all over it.) I'm glad I share an office with the guy who deals with the vendors and who is the main focus of the sucking up. :) 'I brought you cookies and calendars for Christmas! Ain't I nice! Buy more stuff from me next year!'

First it was Sees candy, which the guys in the office decided to hide in my desk. Bastards. Then it was a fancy tin of chocolate covered cookies. Logically my desk was the obvious hiding place, since I did so well hiding the Sees, so in my drawers the cookies went. Desk drawers that is.

Yesterday, as the second shift came on, there were about eight people mulling about in the office here. The cookies had been safely hidden before they're arrival. All of a sudden FM (my immediate boss) says, 'Hey! Where'd the damn cookies go?' This of course alerted the masses to the possibility of a cookie snack before actual work had to be done. 'Cookies? Where cookies? Me want cookies?' (Okay, so they don't really talk that way. But I'm sure that was the general thought going through their mind.)

I didn't want to give away the secret and face the wrath of the Cookie Hoggers, who I guess assume the cookies are for them and only them since they were in the room when the cookies arrived. And the fact that they're good friends with He Who Has Vendors Bringing Him Stuff. I didn't say anything, but I was smiling evilly with a knowledgeable grin. 'Hey, I bet she knows where they are.' Since I was the only 'she' in the office I figured they were on to me. (Watch out Nancy Drew! You've got some competition in the detection department!)

'Where are they?' FM asks me.

"Uh..." I pause for a bit while I debate whether to tell or not "...I can't say with so many people in the room."

FM, who knew about the Great Sees Stash of Xmas '03, asked, "Are they hidden in the same place?"

"Yep."

Everyone perks up at that. Heh. Heh. Heh. It's fun to be mean sometimes."Hidden cookies?" a few ask. I guess this appealed to some primitive instinct to 'find things'. "Ooh ooh where?"

As they looked around the room I said, "They're not necessarily hidden in here." I doubt anyone fell for my attempt at subterfuge. While they contemplated possible stashed cookie locations FM told them all to get off their asses and go back to work. Most jumped to it, but two lingered. One actually started pulling out people's desk drawers, opening cabinets, and looking under piles of stuff for the hidden cookies. As soon as FM got the last two out and on to work he walked over to me. "Where are they?" he asked again. Down boy. Down. Here's a cookie. Now roll over. Good boy.

I don't treat my boss that way. He just reminded me of a dog who watches you with sad doe-y dog eyes while you have the nerve to eat food in front of him that you're not sharing. It's a good survival skill dogs have perfected with time and evolution.

The Sees candy is gone. The fancy tin is half empty. As if sensing our soon-to-be-depleted cookie stash another vendor dropped by with a big-ass tin of butter cookies. Butter cookies are so yummy. Since there's no more room in my desk drawers they can't be stashed away there. But another Cookie Hog thought it'd be funny to hide them nonetheless. So they're hidden. Which is just plain mean. The tin is huge! The little cookies go down at least four layers. Maybe five! That's a lot of cookies. Let the masses eat those cookies while you concentrate on the secret stash of chocolate covered cookies, that's what I say. Or stash some of the butter cookies and leave the rest out. I guess they're just having too much fun playing Hide The Cookie. Hey, whatever floats your boat. That's what I say as well. At least with the cookies hidden I'm not tempted to sample all the different varieties. Yep. That's a good thing.

And desk calendars! That's a good thing too. I've got a desk calendar on my desk (a desk calendar on my desk! Oh the novelty of it all!), a hanging calendar hanging up on my little cubicle-like wall (with a bee-u-tiful picture of the coast of Maui for January - might not ever flip to february!), and another desk calendar to take home. Or hang up on the wall. I think this new calendar I got today is multi functional. Woot!

I went to the mall yesterday. Yes, I braved the scary Holiday Season Mall Scene. And I did it for you Dear Readers, so that I would have something interesting to write about. I also went because I needed to buy presents and things. So hey, a bird and two stones, or whatever, and all that shit.

So anywhoo.. I went to the mall looking for pressies and blog fodder but nothing interesting happened. What's up with that? All I ask for is a little holiday madness. Too much? Do I ask for too much? There were no cars with people with road raging parking lot warrior mentalities to deal with. And this is a pretty decent sized mall here I'm talking about, so you'd figure I'd run into a few. I guess they were all fighting for parking spots up on the other side of the mall.

The mall itself was packed, but not too packed, so there were no lines or pushing or shoving or 'I'm sorry I nearly knocked you over the railing and made you go splat on the first floor with my shopping bag but you see I'm carrying six bags in both hands and that makes me very wide and I haven't mastered proper Shopping Bad Depth Perception yet but I'll get the hang of it soon don't you worry so thanks for not beating me to a pulp.' (I was bumped into once, but that's because I was shopping in a store that is just slightly bigger than my tiny-ass apartment closet and just as stocked to the gills with cutsie novelty items. Well, in my closet's case, its stuffed with clothes and shoes and junk I don't know where else to store.)

There were no inept sales people to get frustrated at and complain about to everyone who will pretend to listen to you. Nothing exciting or funny happened, like I'd hoped, so there's nothing exciting or funny to report. Bummer that.

I went to several stores, bought several things and was in my car and pulling out of the parking lot in just over an hour. Woohoo!

That left me an hour or so to veg out before the HB and I made a trek to the movie theater. Saw Lord of the Rings: Return of the Kings. Great movie, but soooooooooo long. Way too long. Well, way too long since we were sitting down in our seats for a half hour before the movie started. Add to that the time it took to watch a million (okay, just a couple hundred) trailers at the beginning, then the three plus hours for the film itself. We were sitting in those unrelenting theater seats for over four hours! And boy did my ass hurt afterwards. At least we didn't get stuck sitting in a crappy area, like the very front rows where you have to turn your head ninety degrees just to see the other side of the screen. By the time we walked into the building (fifty minutes before show time) there was a line all the way down the east wing of eager fans, waiting for the cleaning crew to finish and the seats to be available for claiming. The HB and I stood at the end of the line, and soon it was curving around to trail back down the wing. I thought we were going to get stuck with sucky seats. But we didn't. Yay!

So besides the guy talking once or twice behind me (at least when me and the HB talk we whisper in each other's ears), and the guy in the front who clapped at a very rude time (a sad and very non-clapping part of the movie), and the HB hissing, 'kiss him! kiss him!' at a very sweet, touching, Hobbit moment, and my numb ass, it was a good night. :)

Though not exciting or funny, so probably not really interesting to read in a bloggy recap. Oh well. It's typed. I'm posting.

snaffled from tj's blog

Three Things

THREE THINGS I DON'T UNDERSTAND
1. people speaking with severe cockney accents
2. how boys can walk around with their baggy pants hanging below their hips
3. why birds suddenly appear every time you are near

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE ME
1. Losing a loved one
2. Not knowing anything / not knowing enough
3. Three headed mutant hippos wearing spangled legwarmers.

THREE THINGS I'D LIKE TO LEARN
1. how to grow money on trees
2. why aliens out there are anal probing earthlings
3. how to wear five inch FMPs

THREE THINGS I AM WEARING RIGHT NOW
1. A sock that is currently retreating further and further into the safety of my left shoe and really pissing me off in the process
2. A sweater (which I wear year round in this office because its always frickin' freezing in here!)
3. Clean underwear with cute little ice skating cartoons on it

THREE THINGS ON MY DESK
1. Little baby paper origami cranes I made out of cherry and strawberry starburst wrappers
2. Pokemon figurines
3. A few Peanuts comic strips I just printed off the internet

THREE THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE
1. Grow old with the HB
2. Find a way to turn something I love to do into a real paying job
3. Ride the Orient Express and solve a very puzzling murder crime

THREE GOOD THINGS ABOUT MY PERSONALITY
1. I'm easy going
2. I always look on the bright side of life [insert whistling here]
3. I know how to have fun

THREE BAD THINGS ABOUT MY PERSONALITY
1. I'm too easy going
2. I'm always looking on the bright side of life and dagnabbit there isn't always a fucking bright side!
3. I'm also moody :)

THREE PARTS OF MY HERITAGE
1. English
2. German
3. Irish

THREE THINGS I LIKE ABOUT MY BODY
1. my left ear
2. it's floatability where large bodies of water are concerned
3. it has all the fingers and toes promised in the brochure

THREE THINGS I DON'T LIKE ABOUT MY BODY
1. Fat cells - the little bastards are exponentially multiplying
2. The mole on my head that causes curious hairdressers to gawk at it and fondle it
3. It starts to smell if I don't bathe it regularly

THREE THINGS MOST PEOPLE DON'T KNOW ABOUT ME
1. I wrote and illustrated my first novel in the second grade - it was about three fairies
2. I want to be a lounge singer when I grow up
3. I was a mermaid princess in a former life

THREE THINGS I SAY THE MOST
1. dude
2. whatever
3. monkey! monkey! ooh ooh ahhhhhh!

THREE PLACES I WANT TO GO
1. Europe
2. Narnia
3. Hogwarts

THREE NAMES THAT I GO BY
1. Lisa
2. Hey you
3. Almighty Supreme Goddess of Everything

THREE SCREEN NAMES I HAVE OR HAD
1. water princess
2. the letter B
3. staticloon

Tuesday is Chooseday

Would you rather...

1. Have body odor that can be detected across the yard OR be hairy like Bigfoot?

I'd rather be hairy like Bigfoot. You can cover up most of the Bigfoot hair, but if your B.O. has that great a radius then there's nothing you can do to cover that up. The hair you can't cover up, but don't want showing, you shave. That's an option Bigfoot has. Ms. Smelly Ass can't shave off her B.O.

2. Chew shards of broken glass OR sit on a lighted barbecue grill?

I'd rather sit on a lighted barbecue grill. The first one is too painful to even think about. I can imagine the grill one though, and can imagine it hurting like a motherfucker. But that doesn't matter. Shards of glass? Uh huh. No. Thank. You.

3. As an adopted woman, find out that that you once dated your real father for a month when you were in your twenties OR find out he is a serial killer?

Well, if the most touching we did was hold hands, then I'd rather find out the first one. Anything else would be too gross. I'd be more grossed out by the first than I would be freaked out by the second.

4. Be stupid and rich OR smart and poor?

Money doesn't buy happiness. Extortion and threats of hideous disfigurement can get you enough money to fake the happiness for a while, but in the end, its all a mirage. And I don't like mirages. Mirages go away.

Being poor ain't that bad. It sucks great big donkey balls, but it ain't bad.

Being even just sorta smart, I'll know just how poor I actually am. And that will bum me out.

So I'd rather be stupid and rich, because ignorance is bliss. Being stupid I won't know anything. I won't even know what I'm missing out on. But at least I'll have the money to make up for it. Wheeeeee!

Progress Report

Number of pressies bought today: er... 0
Number of donuts bought today: lots.
Goals achieved: well, if you count the gallon of milk I bought today as a goal towards thirst quenching... then, well, 1 :)

I was going to go out shopping today. Truly I was. I had it all planned out. I came home, ate a late lunch/early dinner, and vegged on the couch with the HB. (Yes, that was part of the plan.) He had plans to go play out and play with the boys so I thought, 'I'll hang out with him for a bit then go out when he goes out.'

Sound plan, right? Well, not so right. He didn't go out until it was really late. Guess I forgot to pick up that little tidbit of info when I was planning my shopping excursion.

I did go out tonight. But it was for a donut run.

Have you ever craved something so badly that in your mind you remember it being better than it actually is? You're sure you know just how it will taste, just how it will feel, just how it will cure that insatiable yearning you have deep down inside. Then when you actually enjoy the thing you've been craving it doesn't come anywhere near to living up to the expectations you had going into it. That sucks.

A couple of weeks ago I was driving down the street and saw a sign for a donut shop. Ever since then I've had this nagging desire to have a donut. The idea of 'man, I really want a donut' would pop into my head. And it would make me really want a donut. So, when out of the blue, the HB suggested that we go out and make a donut run I didn't have to think twice about it, even though it was really cold outside. How cold you say? It was colder than a baby penguin's butt. In case you don't know the temperatures of penguin bottoms let me just say that it is none too pleasant.

So as we make this donut run I've got visions of maple bars dancing in my head. That was partly to blame for what happened. You see, when we got there, I didn't want just one donut. I wanted to get two of my favorites. The HB wanted two as well. Then I thought, hey, I could get three, and have one for breakfast tomorrow morning. The HB adopted the same logic. So that was 6 donuts. Then I looked at the big poster they had up on the wall advertising the special price they had going on a dozen donuts. It was the same price as our six individual donuts. So we just had to get the dozen, you see? That was a highly logic choice. Donuts for breakfast for the whole week! For the price of six! Well, I should have just stuck with buying one and I would have been better off. And I would have had a couple more dollars in my wallet.

We made a stop to pick up some milk and hersey's chocolate syrup (for the chocolate milk) on the way home and had our snack all set up and ready to go. And you know what? That donut wasn't as good and as satisfying as I'd thought/hoped it would be. I'm so over them now, and there's still have the box left. I had one donut, and half of another one with the HB. Now I feel really donut-ed out. Don't know why, though I'm sure I'll be hungry for another one tomorrow. Maybe I'll take one to work with me for lunch. I'll need something to go with the Sees candy still locked up in my desk drawer. Bleh. I don't even want to think about sugar right now.

So anyway, the HB went out soon after the donut run. I thought about going out but its too cold out there. (Penguin butt cold mind you). And I just now warmed up and my fingers don't feel like they're going to fall off from being so cold. I've been cold all frickin day and I'm just now feeling warm. Oy to the vey. And I can always go out shopping tomorrow. Yeah. That's what I'll do. I'll go shopping tomorrow. Right after work so I don't get comfy and warm at home. :) Yep, I'm a big lazy procrastinator dodo head. But at least I'm a big warm lazy procrastinator dodo head.

This weekend, while I was at my parent's house, I got to admiring their Christmas Cards Received Already This Year collection. I admired not for the beauty of the cards or the warm fuzzy wishes held within each. Nay! Not for anything as sweet and nice as that! ;) I admired the sheer size of the stack. Not that size matters or anything like that. It just made my stack pale in comparison. Mainly because my stack was non-existent. I had nada cards. Zip. Zilch. A great big sad zero. Zero, the anti-hero anti-number. I had mega nothing.

I thought (admiringly so), 'I haven't gotten any Christmas cards this year. None. No one has shown the love. Not even grandma!'

And I was bummed.

I don't receive many xmas cards, but there's usually one or two in my mailbox by now. Then I realized I hadn't checked my mailbox in about a week.

D'oh!

And I was no longer bummed. I had hope. And a reason to get out of my car in the freezing weather ('It's a tit nipply out here') this morning at the risk of certain girly extremities catching a bit of frostbite. (I could have checked the mailbox Sunday night when we got home, but as soon as I parked the car in its little car spot I was in Sit On The Couch And Not Move For Several Hours mode. I didn't really sit on the couch for several hours without moving, but in that frame of mind there was no way I was going to brave the cold and put on shoes for a mailbox check. I live in an apartment and my mailbox isn't located nicely in front of my door. And I was all about ignoring all but the nicely last night.)

So I checked the snail-mail-box this morning and lo and behold I had mail! Tons of mail, most of it being of the junk variety. But there were a couple of xmas cards in there.

And I was loved!

That'll teach me to check my mailbox more often. :)

One of those cards was from one of my aussie buddies. :) :) At first I thought it was an xmas card from an aussie relative, but they usually just send one card to 'the family'. Then I opened it and saw it was from my friend. Yes, that's right, I'VE GOT FRIENDS! heh heh heh. So anyway, that was a nice surprise. :) :) Though she didn't include any return addy for me to reciprocate. :( I'll have to ask her for it later.

Another card was from my friend Zoink and included with it was my invitation to her xmas party this weekend. And what a spiffy invite it was too!! It made me feel all grown up and important like. :) I loved it Zoink. You're awesome chica!

You know what's so totally utterly wrong though? I had twice as many junk envelopes full of credit card application solicitations than I had Christmas cards. That just ain't right. Why do they keep sending me that crap? Sure, I don't mind a few of them here and there, but I had about twenty of them in my mailbox! That's like a whole acre of forest right there that was killed so those money grubbing mongrels could entice me into going more in debt than what I already am. Bastards.

Anywhoo...

Tonight's mission, should I choose to accept it or not: 1) buy gifts for xmas party and 2) show some xmas love by sending out xmas cards.

I love sending out xmas cards. That's soooooo much more enjoyable than paying bills. :)

i got a new tagboard! wheeee!

the old one died. :(

but this one is better! :)

it looks pretty much the same, but there are a few differences. you can now delete your post, if you were the last one to post. at least that's what the tagboard site says. you can now get email notification about additional tags to the board. hopefully it works. there are alternating colors with each post. there are also a ton of new smilies. i've added some animal smilies. i'll be adding a bunch of others later.

more smilies! wheeeee!

hopefully this one doesn't crap out me any time soon. :)

It's almost my beddy-bye-time as another wonderful weekend draws to a close.

My aunt and uncle were visiting and threw a big early xmas party at my parent's house on saturday. I was the only cousin that showed up (big bummer) but a family showed up that I wasn't expecting to see so that was nice. I played bocce ball (a game at which I suddenly lost all skill at yesterday) with my dad and the HB, drank lots of wine, ate my aunt's yummy jambalaya, and got to hang out with and laugh with and create warm fuzzy memories with my family. It was a great Saturday.

The HB and I stayed the night, but since my aunt and uncle were staying at my parent's house as well they got the spare bed (what's up with old people getting all the good sleeping arrangements? hehehe) and we had to make due with the fold-out couch. Fold-out couch - more like fold-out ouch. But to make up for the less-than-comfortable sleeping apparatus my aunt made us a yummy egg and cheese and onion breakfast.

One good thing about leaving my parent's house after a visit is that I always seem to leave with more stuff than I showed up with. This time I left with a new candle (mango!) and cookies (shortbread!) and a bottle of wine (Hagafen!). Gee, thanks mom! :)

On the way back home we stopped off at the HB's parent's house and spent a couple hours hanging out with his sisters and his new little 6 month old (give or take a few months) nephew. That little boy is adorable! Even when it was spitting up stuff. :)

Just a few more days of work and toil then I get to drive up again and hang out with The Goil's! Woo! Lookin' forward to it.

Which reminds me... I'd better hurry up and buy the necessary gifts I have to show up with. D'oh! :)

Can't do anything about it now though, so I'll just watch some Farscape, and check my email before sleep claims me like an irrate passenger looking for his lost luggage.

Unconscious Mutterings

I say ... and you think ... ?

1. Warning:: Label
   
2. Aspirations:: and Beliefs (the company i work for has adopted a list of these and made it so they flash up on my computer every time i start my work computer. its supposed to motivate. i guess. woohoo. that was me being motivated.)
   
3. Starvation:: Hunger
   
4. Lid:: Rock (some promotional thing at the movie theater i frequent)
   
5. Sketch:: Comedy
   
6. Interrogate:: Meet The Parents (a really funny movie that's on the tv right now)
   
7. Credit:: card
   
8. Scotch:: on the rocks
   
9. Confused:: Dazed and...
   
10. Paris:: France

I tried to do my girlfriend-y part last night by appealing to the HB's sense of honor and duty and manly sense of protecting what was his. I tried but it's not my fault the HB's ego was in anti-stroking mode. I was all ready to swoon at his feat and praise is almighty bug killing skills. Truly I was.

We had just finished up a wonderful meal that I cooked (i.e. sat in line at the new A&W/KFC drive-thru for ten friggin' minutes!) when all of a sudden I heard a bug. A big bug fluttering its little buggy wings. It sounded like it was coming from the lamp next to where I was sitting so I shot up off the cushion and ran to the opposite side of the couch. The HB didn't even look my way. Is that too much to ask when I do something like that? I mean, I don't make a habit of jumping off the couch like I just got bit in the butt by a rogue alligator living between the cracks of the couch cushions. The least he could do was wonder what the hell was up!

He was too busy engrossed in the television I guess. James Bond was on. So I clued him in. The HB, not Bond. I told him of the big scary bug that was hiding in the lampshade. The HB was unfazed.

ME: "But it might attack me! You have to kill it!"

HB: "No I don't."

Where's Bond when you need him. I'm sure he would have captured the bug for me. I sat back down on the couch, hoping I'd get attacked so I could yell, "SEEEEEEE! I told you so!" I'm not one for petty pointing out-ing, but I will make exceptions now and then.

I sat. I sat and nothing happened. Then a few minutes later I heard the flutter of insect wings again.

ME: "Did you hear that?"

HB: "Hear what?"

ME: "The bug!"

I muted the television. The sound didn't reoccur. I got up and bravely shook the lamp. Nothing happened. I was sure the bug would have been disrupted enough to flit around a bit in disgust for having his new place of residence disturbed, but nothing happened.

The commercial ended and the movie we were watching came back on. Our attentions were diverted. Throughout the movie though I kept hearing the bug wing flutter. And I kept spazzing out, whipping my head around every time to see if the bug was flying out to attack me. It never did. So I got to thinking, 'What if there is no bug?'

Wouldn't it be cool if you could pull off some of that Matrix shit? You know, realize you're in the Matrix and that you can't make the bug disappear, because that is impossible. You can only realize one thing, that there is no bug. Then whammo! No more bug. If I could do that, I'd realize that there really isn't all that fat on my ass. Whammo! No fat ass. And these clothes? Pathetic. I'd picture myself with a badass black leather Trinity outfit. Complete with the long leather jacket and boots. And Niobe's sunglasses. Those sunglasses were the bomb shizzy nits. But I digress...

So I got to thinking, 'What if there is no bug?' That's when I noticed my purse. When I came home with dinner I threw my purse down on the floor next to a chair. And under the chair was a plastic bag full of junk. I noticed that now the junk was spilling out of the plastic bag, ever so slightly, because my purse had knocked into it, disturbing its restful state. So the side of the plastic bag was slowly lowering under the pressure of the junk. Gravity can be a bitch sometimes. And the sound of crinkling plastic folding under the pressure sounds an awful lot like bug wings flittering about. Really it does. D'oh!

I was about to announce this discovery to the HB. Then I came to my senses (which didn't take long since I have so few). I'd rather let him think I was hearing some bug only one person could hear at a time than hearing the sound of crinkling plastic. It wasn't much better of a choice, but I took it.

And speaking of my HB, my live in boy toy, I found a new possible meaning for the HB abbreviation yesterday.

From the pseudodictionary:
hottie bombalottie - The ultimate "hottie"-- can be pronounced either hottie boom-ba-lottie or bum-ba-lottie. HB is abbreviation.

Hottie bombalottie is today's secret phrase. Remember boys and girls, if you hear this phrase, scream real loud and point your finger at the person who said it.

The Friday Five

1. Do you enjoy the cold weather and snow for the holidays?

I love the cold weather, especially now that I don't have to go to swim practice five days a week all year round. :)

Wait, let me specify a bit. I love the cold weather in central and southern California. :) I don't live wear it snows a lot, so I don't know if I'd like it or not. I think I would though. Just for the holidays.

2. What is your ideal holiday celebration? How, where, with whom would you celebrate to make things perfect?

My ideal holiday celebration would be at my parent's house (because the grandparents don't have their house anymore) with all the cousins and aunts and uncles and everybody happy and healthy and in attendance. Including my brother. I'm crossing my fingers that certain things fall into place for him today so that he can fly home for the holidays. I'd get to see him, and so would my parents, and that would make them extremely happy. So that would be the perfect Christmas this year.

3. Do you do have any holiday traditions?

My family used to have holiday traditions.

Every year my dad would pull out the fake tree (which I loved!) and set it up. Being the dad and the man of the house, he'd rig up the lights. Then my brother and I would decorate it. My mom would supervisor, being our official Big Gaping Empty Spot spotter.

Another tradition: mom would always shake the presents. Mom's a big time shaker. One year, when my brother and I were really little, my mom was really into jigsaw puzzles. So one of the presents my dad bought her was this awesome looking jigsaw puzzle. But a problem existed. Mom was a shaker. When you shake a jigsaw puzzle box its obvious what's inside, especially to someone who plays a lot with jigsaw puzzles. What to do? Well, my dad opened up the box and put the small jigsaw pieces in a plastic bag. He then wrapped up that plastic bag with lots of tape and put it in the box. Then he wrapped up the box in wrapping paper. When he shook the box it didn't make sound! My brother and I looked at my dad in awe. Daddy is a genius! He put the present under the tree and true to form, a day later Mom was there, shaking the present. And it stumped her! It was great. Then one day, while shaking the present yet again, my mom says something like, "What in the world is this?!" And my brother, being about 5 years old says something like, "It's a jigsaw puzzle mommy!" And the jig, as they say, was up. Oops. I don't think dad let us see any of mom's presents for awhile after that. :)

Growing up, the family would always get together at my Aunt Judy and Uncle Buzz's house for Christmas Eve. After the cousins grew up and moved away my brother and I were the only kids still in town. Aunt Judy would always let us open one of her gifts to us on Christmas Eve. When we were little it was the highlight of the evening. As I got older, it was still a cool thing to look forward too, but it wasn't the only thing. The Christmas Eve that sticks out most in my mind was when I was about 12 or 13, and I felt like such an adult as I was allowed to stay up past midnight, playing cards with my grown up college aged cousins. It was cooler than cool.

That was also the year one of my cousin's friends from high school came to visit. The friend was cute and I, in all my early adolescence glory, had the biggest crush on him. He was cool and he played the guitar. And when he played and sang 'Brown Eyed Girl' I crushed even harder. (I still think of that memory every time I hear that song) ::sigh::

Every Christmas Eve my brother and I would set our eternal alarm clocks to wake up the next morning just in time to wake up our parents before they could reach the Decent Amount of Sleep mark. Our stockings would be stuffed and laid out at the foot of our beds, but the rule was we couldn't open the presents inside without our parents present. And it took them forever to wake up. Cruel. My parents were cruel. :) My brother and I were equally cruel as we bugged them to wake up faster. "Come ooonnnn! Hurry uuupppp!" "Coffee." My parents would mumble back. "Coffee."

After presents were opened and pieces of wrapping paper were thoroughly scattered about the living room we'd have breakfast. Sometimes we'd open up one of the family games Santa brought and play a round. Then we'd head over to my grandparents' house. As long as I can remember that was Christmas Day Headquarters. Some years it would be just the family that lived in town that would show up. And some years relatives from Too Far Away would visit. We'd laugh and eat and play cards and eat more and play cards more.

Now times they are a changin'.

I'm all grown up (well not really, but I don't live at home anymore). I no longer wake up on Christmas morning with a goodies stuffed stocking on my bed and an urgent desire to wake everyone else up so that the day can officially start. There are no more Christmas Eve's at Judy and Buzz's house. They moved out east to retire. My brother now lives in another state as well. There are no more Christmas' at my grandparent's house. They sold the house and moved into a tiny little apartment in a senior living community. It's a little sad to think that the holiday traditions I grew up loving and have such fond memories of aren't going to be around any more. But it's not too sad though, because now there is room for me to make my own traditions, to change things about and make new traditions, to create a tiny little family of my own and make traditions for them. Change is good. Change is fun.

Except for when change decreases the amount of presents you get, of course. :)

4. Do you do anything to help the needy?

Not lately I don't. But lately I can barely help myself at the moment. I'll help the needy when I can.

5. What one gift would you like for yourself?

Other than love and peace and good health?

Money! No gifts. I don't need gifts. What I need is my rent paid. :) And a digital camera. Wait... NO! No gifts! I can't buy myself anything else and claim its part of a Christmas present to myself.

The following random thoughts are brought to you by the letter H and the number 3.14. Why? Because I'm hungry for pie dammit!

Male Coworker PU: Look. I've got a picture of a ding-dong.
Dirty Minded Me: [opens eyes wide and nearly chokes on spit] What?
I turn around and see that coworker PU, the guy that now sits at the desk to my left, has a picture from the copy machine. He copied a hostess ding-dong, still in all its aluminum wrapper glory. It looked cool. Like some sort of wonky cow biscuit. Mad props to him and whatever mad reasoning made him photocopy someone's ding-dong.

Someone brought Coworker CP a small box of Sees Candy.

Sees Candy = yummy.

The four of us who were in the office at the time grabbed a piece or two. Then it was decided we should lock the box away before the vultures could get at it. Who's desk do they decide to hide the yummy goodness in, you ask with giddy eagerness? Mine! That's who. I hear the candies calling to me. "Eat me! Eat me like the hungry little sugar starved biotch you are! Eat me!"

Sees Candy = evil.

The name calling got to me. I had to show those candies who was boss. It was time to lay the chompdown on that name calling candy. I pulled out the box and me and Coworker PU grabbed another piece. I'm eating a coffee flavored sees candy as I type this. It is oh so nummy nummy good. Mmmmmmmmm.

Then Coworker PU shows me this little stash he has of liquor-flavored chocolates. They're in the shape of mini liquor bottles. How fancy! There was a Jack Daniels chocolate bottle. And a raspberry liqueur bottle. And a bunch of others. Coworker PU gave me the Southern Comfort one. I'm about to eat it now.

Okay, I'm unwrapping the chocolate... breaking off the bottleneck and taste testing it out... mmmm chocolate.... unwrapping the rest of the bottle... biting into the main chocolate part... good lord there's actual liquor in it!!!

And its gooooooooooooood. I think I'm in love. Too bad it was the chocolate bottle was smaller than my thumb. Where the hell do you find these things anyway? I know I've seen them before. I asked Coworker PU but he doesn't know. Someone at work gave them to him.

Southern Comfort chocolate = goooooood.

And no, I did not start typing this up after the liquor chocolate incident. This pointless post was started long before alcohol got involved.

It started to rain a few moments ago. Then after it started it actually rained. Then after it was done actually raining it stopped. The wind is still blowing pretty good out there, so those rain clouds have moved on to rain on someone else's parade. Not that I had a parade out there. And not that I would have minded if I did. I like the rain.

It's nice being able to see out the huge friggin' wall window right in front of me. It's nice because I can see all the dark gloomy clouds in the sky. Yay! I wish the rain clouds would come back. I like the rain. Err... actually, those particular clouds can wait until after I'm done driving home. I'd prefer to avoid the crazy "OH MY GOD IT'S RAINING! I HAVE TO GET HOME RIGHT THIS SECOND!" drivers who always seem to be out and about when it starts to rain after a long rain absence.

I think I need a new nickname. How about LL Dork G? No? Okay, I'll think some more on it.

Wanna see some dancing and singing reindeer? I know you do. So here you go. My favorite is the one who honks his nose. :)

I've been perusing a lot of blogs lately. A lot of good blogs. A lot of great blogs that make my blog suffer from Fabulous Blog Envy. I'll link to them someday, those fabulous blogs, when I can manage to get around to it, because I've been bookmarking them all. I'll get around to it eventually, unless I suddenly get fired from too much bookmarking at work. Then all those bookmarks will be lost. So I should probably write that post up sooner than not-so-soon.

Where the hell was I? Oh yeah, fabu blogs. So I'm checking out all these blogs and thinking to myself (because there was no one else around to think to) 'Wow, my blog wants to be just like this blog when it grows up.' Well, not just like - because my blog wants to be original - but mostly like. That way it's well liked. Because that would be nice. Not necessary, but nice.

And if my blog finds its niche/style/groove/whatever then it would be more funner to play with. It's mighty funner right now, but more funner is always a good thing. Unless you're a roller coaster. The more funner you are as a roller coaster, the more people sit on you and scream at you and throw up on you. That's not fun. Hmm... maybe it's just a roller coaster thing. Who knows?

I know. But I'm not telling. Because I'm too busy rambling. 'I'm a rambling man... made a lot of stops... all over the world...'

(That last bit there at the end was to be read to the tune of that Ricky Nelson song.)

One last thought before I sign off and prepare for my next post... I think I'm going to start writing these posts as if there are going to be 5,439 people reading it within the hour - just for shits and giggles - because that will make me as giddy as a great big Giddy Monster. Giddy is fun. giddy giddy giddy giddy giddy. 'Giddy' is also fun to say out loud (and type) over and over again.

One more last thought... shits and giggles? That's a fun phrase to use, but it makes me wonder how in the world it got started. Someone had to be giggling so hard they shit themselves. And they must have had fun doing so. So much fun that others saw this fun and wanted to duplicate the experience. "Hey let's all go over to Ron's house for shits and giggles."

I don't know. Just a thought. :)

What's New Pussy Cat?

I'll tell you what's new!


Which Survivor of the Impending Nuclear Apocalypse Are You?
A Rum and Monkey joint.

The description:

"Forged from molten steel beneath the Earth's crust seven hundred million years ago, you are like a great big hairy Welsh crooner of iron. Which is just a well, because it's all-out death time! And great big steel fighting machines tend to survive that kind of thing.

It's good to know your music will live on. Truly, it is."

Dude! I'm motherfucking Tom Jones! How cool is that?! Rock on! Wooooo!

I will now have Tom Jones songs stuck in my head all frelling day. Along with Carlton doing the Carlton Dance. :)

It's not unusual to be loved by anyone
It's not unusual to have fun with anyone
But when I see you hanging about with anyone
It's not unusual to see me cry,
Oh I wanna' die

I'm thinking of making myself a button that reads: Fuck off Mr. Flu Bug!

I assume the flu bug is a mister. Just seems like a boy thing to do to attack you and make you all sick and up-chuck-y. :)

I also assume that flu bugs can read. They probably can't. But just in case, I'm covering my cute little fat ass.

How else can I avoid the flu? It's everywhere!

Yesterday, here at work, one employee was sitting at the desk next to me. Mr. BossMan and another employee were standing right frickin' behind me. The three of them end one conversation and started talking about how sick they've been lately. The one next to me is recovering from the flu, and you can still hear a little bit of sickness in his scratchy voice. Mr. BossMan behind me is very sick. He's not throwing up, thankfully, but he's pale and sickly looking. He looks like he's about ready to drop dead of exhaustion. The other guy behind me just got over his bout of the flu. They're talking about the headaches and the chills and the stomach upheavals and the total utter miserable feeling of it all. As they talk about this fun stuff they're coughing and breathing germs RIGHT ON ME! Hello people! Non-sick person here right in front of you. Wants to stay non-sick person thank you very much.

So I says, "Hey all you sick people. I'm not sick. Go away."

I threw in some 'shoo fly shoo' hand motions for added emphasis.

I was really only half serious, but the BossMan and the guy next to him left to resume their previous conversation out in the hallway.

That's the power of the 'shoo fly shoo' hand motion right there for ya!

There are a few people missing from work because they're busy being sick at home like decent normal people. Though, to be fair, there's a big project going on here that has to get done, and since one of the supervisors isn't here (he's sick) Mr. BossMan dragged his sick butt out of bed to work. What a trooper! The trooper better not make me sick before this weekend or I'll be pissed.

There are a lot of people here at work who aren't sick, but everyone in their family is. So they're germ carriers all the same. Bah!

I thought about calling in sick myself. Great excuse, this flu bug. "I've got the flu. Can't come in. Gonna go throw up now. Bye." But what if I actually get the flu after a few days? "Uh... I got the flu again. Can you believe that shit? Gonna go throw-- [insert sound of phone hitting floor as I drop it and run for a safe place to throw up in.]"


Dear Mr. Flu Bug,

I've got family plans this weekend. I've got friends plans the following weekend. I've got Christmas plans later the next week. These are very important plans. I will not get sick. You here me Mr. Flu Bug? I will not get sick! So fuck off Mr. Flu Bug! And have a Merry Christmas. :)

Sincerely,
Loon

Just for fun, here are the other two quizzes I've made. Each time I take these quizzes I get different answers. That's sort of fun. I ramble on a bit here, so it might not be that interesting of a read. I just couldn't help it, I'm full of the ramblings today.


Which Strictly Ballroom Quote Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I love this movie. A few years ago the Starz cable channels ran this movie over and over and over again as much as they could in about a weeks time. I watched it as much as I could. When it ended on one starz channel, I flipped to which other starz channel it was showing on next. I was just a little obsessed with it. Now, due to the wonderfulness that is DVD, I can watch it over and over and over again at my leisure. And I do. My favorite part is when Scott and Fran dance behind the curtain while Tina Sparkle and her partner Nathan Starkey are dancing the fruity rumba out on the dance floor. I could watch Scott dance with Fran over and over again. ::sigh:: And I love the Doris Day version of 'Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps.'

I love how Fran, a beginner, gets up the nerve to ask Scott, open amateur and dancing stud, if she can dance with him. I love how Scott says phooey to everything because he's going to dance the steps he wants to dance. I love it that Liz has a redeeming scene at the end. I love it when the grandma checks out Scott's chest. I love... well, I could go on, but I won't. But overall...

I <3 Strictly Ballroom



Which Stephanie Plum Book Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I love this series. I was really obsessed with these books once. I gobbled the books up the first time around, then I reread them later at least once (some of the books maybe twice.) I hung out at Janet Evanovich, the author's site, became addicted to the fan fiction, and followed the ff as it moved over to yahoo land. I was so addicted I even attempted to write my own stuff. Another clue to my obsessive-ness: I made a frickin' quiz about them! (Including all the books up until Hard Eight) I no longer am obsessed with the fan fiction (though I still read a few stories) and I no longer have the urge to reread the books over and over again. I am, though, looking forward to the next book, Ten Big Ones, coming out next summer.

I love Stephanie Plum because she's a tough and stubborn chick. In the middle of the first book, if I were her, I would have said 'Screw the money! A car just exploded in front of me and now I have no more eyebrows! I'm getting a job at McDonalds!' I love Stephanie Plum because she's fumbles about and still manages to come out on top. I fumble. And so far I haven't come out on the bottom. So I can relate. :) I love Grandma Mazur pulling a gun on the bad guy punks. I love Rex biting the bad guys. I love Lula and her attitude. I love Morelli and his sexy ways. I love Ranger and his sexy ways. I love Mooner and his not-that-sexy ways.

I <3 the Stephanie Plum books.