Just a quick update on the Great-Vacation-Itinerary-O-Fun

Here's a quick overview of my (tentative) vacation itinerary, in case anyone was curious...
(Because I'm too excited thinking about it to do anything productive. At least for the moment.)

Wednesday :

Wake up at 4 o-effing-clock. The HB is driving me to the airport, so if both alarms don't wake me up, he will. Flight leaves at 6am. I was all about The Cheap and not Convenience when I booked my flight. Hopefully this won't come back to bite me in the still-half-asleep ass.

After a brief stopover in Denver, arrive in Texas a little after 1pm. Get picked up by mom and aunt J. Drive for about an hour to the lake.

Relax, eat dinner with family, play cards or games or some form of entertainment of family get together tradition. Sleep - in an RV. Haven't done that in awhile. (Note to self: pack parent approved pj's.)

Thursday :

Read a book
Sip margarita's (I heard auntie J is bragging about a new recipe for us to try)
Sit out on the deck and fish (which, according to my mom, is best done while reading and sipping margarita's)
Write stories and dear diary entries about vacation so far
Hang out and gossip with family
Relax

Friday :

Same as Thursday for the first half of the day. At night, my texas aunt and uncle are throwing a bbq rehearsal dinner at their place. Whether this is at the lake house or their place in town I have no idea. All I know is that I'll be in texas. Yeah!

I just plum love going to new places.

Saturday :

In the morning - I've been invited to a bridal shower of sorts. Of sorts = no presents.

(Awe crap. I just remembered I haven't bought a wedding present yet. D'oh! My wedding present was just going to be a gift certificate to Target (one of the places they've registered at) but still, I can't believe I forgot. I was just there this weekend! Now I've got another errand I have to run before I can go home and pack. Grrr.)

So, a bridal brunch for all the girls. (Note to self: pack something nice to wear for girly get together). This will be the first time I meet my cousin's fiance. (And yes Zoink, I've already forgotten her name. D'oh! I think there's an S somewhere near the middle...)

At night - the wedding. Outdoors. At 6:00 pm.

I'm trying to figure out how to install a mister and fan system in my bra because I'm sure it will be hot. I think I heard that rain is forecasted, which would suck because I'm totally not packing for rain, but with my luck it will be hotter than the devil's ass when I'm there. Bleagh. That means I'll be sweating up a rather unattractive storm. Double bleagh. Though I guess that would be better than rain during an outdoor wedding.

Sunday :

I was going to fly back home this day, but the Texas uncle and aunt are having a fish fry. I can't very well leave before then, now can I? Of course not.

Monday :

Fly home in the evening. I think my flight from Texas leaves at 6 PM. I wanted to leave a lot earlier than that, but again, I was just following the Path of Cheapness.

I have a layover for two friggin hours in Denver but at least that gives me a little time to souvenir shop, as there won't be much time for that before then. Unless I get dropped off early at the texas airport.

I'm scheduled to arrive home a little before 11pm. Thankfully I only live about 15 (20 minutes at the most) from the airport. Hopefully I'll be asleep before midnight.


Dude, its going to so SUCK waking up Tuesday and going back to work. Bleagh. Maybe I should ask for another day off. Does jet lag qualify as something you can call in sick for and not get in trouble over? Not that I'm going to wuss out and call in sick or anything. Just might be handy information to store for later.

WARNING: This blog will be update free for a couple of days

Sad news, I know. But I'm sure my faithful readers (All what? Three of you? ) will ban together and comfort one another in these desperate times ahead.

:)

I don't know if I've mentioned this before (maybe I have briefly, cryptically) but I'm going on vacation tomorrow. Yay! And I'm going to Texas for the first time. Yay! And I'll be flying by myself for the first time. Eek! I'm a big girl. I can handle it. I can handle it with style, as only I can. But still... its making me just a little nervous. I wish the HB was coming with me, but he's already used up the vacation days he accrued for his first six months on the job. So bummer that. :(

But that just means I get to play Girl Adventurer! Navigating the Big Scary Obstacle Course that is The Airport.

I know that once I get to the airport it won't be that bad. I've watched Airline enough to know what to do (don't consume alcohol like it's a security blanket, check in EARLY, don't check in luggage if possible). If worse comes to worse, and I get lost and/or miss my flight and/or say something to piss off the security guys, I'll just pin a note to myself that says, 'If lost please return to:'

The reason I'm going to Texas? A cousin of mine is getting married on Saturday. The reason I'm leaving tomorrow and coming back on Monday? My parents and two sets of aunts and uncles are all camping out in RV's at another aunt and uncle's lake house a week before and a week after the wedding. My mom really wanted me to come out early and hang out with her and the rest of the family. Actually, she wanted both me and the HB to come, and talked it up so much that the HB was really looking forward to coming. But now he can't make it. Darn it!

But I can. And I'm so friggin excited about it!!! Last time my parents vacationed at the lake house they wouldn't shut up about how nice it is out there and how much fun it is and yadda yadda yadda. So now its my turn dammit! Yeah! And I get to see my aunt and uncle from florida, who I haven't seen in months! And I get to see my aunt and uncle and cousin from texas, and a bunch of other relatives from texas, who I haven't seen in years!!!



I can't want until I get home today so I can start packing. I've wanted to start packing for at least the last week or so, but felt that would be a rather silly thing to do. So I refrained. And started making a Things To Pack list instead because I keep thinking of things I need to remember to bring and I'm afraid I'll forget to pack it otherwise. Last few times I've packed a suitcase I haven't forgotten anything, yet every single time I pack I have that disco-dancing-butterfly-in-the-tummy feeling that I'm forgetting something vital. Like underwear. I hate that nagging feeling. But as long as I remember to pack my wedding outfit I'm set. All other necessities can be borrowed or bought when I get there.

So I'll be gone for... wow, six days... and I doubt I'll have internet access until I come back to work next Tuesday, hence the lack of updates. Well, I'll have access Monday night when I get back, but I'm getting back around 11 at night. I doubt there will be enough brain functionality to type up anything even remotely semi interesting. I might have access at the lake house, but I'm not counting on it.

To fill up my time since I won't be able to compulsively check my emails or read blogs or surf around aimlessly like I usually do at work, I'll be reading a lot of books. I plan to pack a few books that I purchased years ago that I haven't gotten around to reading yet because I keep buying/borrowing new ones. Or better yet, I'll bring only books mom has loaned me. That way I can leave them in her RV when I'm done. Make the suitcase a bit lighter.

I also plan to do a lot of writing while I'm out there. I won't have a laptop with me, which would be super cool, so I'll be doing it old school, which I kind of prefer anyways. Plus, I've got a super cool new notepad I need to break in, as well as some spiffy new pens. So that's something I'm looking forward to doing.

Also on the list of things to do this vacation: Relax. Eat lots of good RV/home cooked meals. Party with family (they're a fun and rowdy bunch, especially when the wine starts flowing). Get all gussied up for a wedding. Relax. Eat. Have fun. Fly back home in one piece.

I can't wait! Can't wait! Can'twaitcan'twaitcan'twait!!!

Tuesday is Chooseday!

Would you rather...

1. find naked pictures of you on the internet OR naked pictures of one of your parents?

Naked parent picture. I think I could block the memory of a naked parent picture better than I could block the knowledge that there are what can only be highly unflattering naked pictures of me floating around the internet. Pictures that I could never get back and destroy.

Plus, naked internet pictures of moi will not help me in my bid for Intergalactic Dictator.

2. sneeze every hour on the hour OR squawk like a chicken whenever anybody says "chicken"?

Sneeze sneeze sneeze! I love to sneeze!

Though the squawking like a chicken thing could be fun. Maybe. If I knew what a squawking chicken sounded like. Because, I mean, if I'm going to impersonate one, I want to do it right. Not that it matters any, because I'll be sneezing instead. Achooooooooo!

3. be locked inside a car trunk for an hour OR strapped to the top of a 30 story building for an hour?

Um... locked inside a car trunk. That way, next time I read a book (Club Dead) or watch a movie (Sneakers, Out of Sight) where this happens I'll be able to identify with the character more. Plus, I could reenact my whole Locked In A Trunk With Only A Crowbar Named Mr. Clooney To Keep Me Company fantasy. Yeah, sounds like good times.

Plus, the other option, the one about being strapped to the top of a really tall building? Not so much fun. Especially if it requires being strapped to the side of the very top of the building. Because I think there'd be a strong possibility of peeing on one's self in that condition. I.E. - not so much fun.

4. everything sweet tasted like listerine OR everything rotten tasted like chocolate fudge?

Everything sweet tasted like Listerine. I don't want to eat rotten things, and if they taste like fudge it'll be too tempting. And too confusing. Plus, if sweet things tasted as nasty as Listerine I wouldn't want to eat them any more. And that would be a good thing.

My Coffee (Not-Quite-Yet-An-)Addiction Confession

I'm kind of worried about my recent coffee consumption. I used to hate coffee, and rightly so, because it can be some down right nasty shit sometimes (like when someone uses up all the sugar and creamer - greedy bastards!). There was a time when I wouldn't have been caught dead anywhere near a coffee bean, even the chocolate covered ones. But that was then, when I was young and naive about the ways of the world.

I soon got older and discovered fancy coffee concoctions and thought, 'hey, this stuff isn't that bad.' Especially iced mochas. *major droolage*

But I never wanted to be one of those people that needed coffee to help them wake up in the morning. It was like some sort of scary addictive drug, that morning cup of coffee. I'd heard the horror stories of coffee-less mornings from strung out coffee addicts. I'd seen my mom grumble wearily when the mr. coffee forgot to do its thing. I never wanted to rely on, to need something that badly in order to wake up in the morning. But then again, that was when I was young and oh so naive about the wondrous power of this drug we call caffeine.

I haven't progressed to that stage yet. I don't need a cup of coffee when I first wake up. I don't even want coffee when I first wake up in the morning. But when I get to work... now that's a different beast all together. I started drinking coffee, the non-fancy Starbucks-type of coffee, here at work. Right around the time when everyone was running around like nearly headless chickens after botched hatchet jobs - otherwise known as The Great Big Scary Corporate Audit. Back then, a cup of sweet sugary coffee sure was nice in the last couple hours of the day. That's when I drank it, in the afternoon. Not in the morning.

But now, now I drink it in the morning. Maybe its just a great way to procrastinate. Clock in. Turn on computer. Go to the bathroom. Check teeth for unflattering bits of food even though they were brushed clean a half hour ago. Say good morning to the soda vending machine. Fix a cup of coffee with a little sugar and lots of powdered creamer (I like my coffee like I like my men - light brown. Heh.)

And as I doctor the coffee I think to myself, 'why am I drinking this? It doesn't even taste all that great. It doesn't make me hyper. I'd better not have any tomorrow, just so's I don't get addicted or anything.'

When tomorrow comes, I'm already fixing myself a cup of coffee before I remember I wasn't going to have any. D'oh! Lately, I have cut back a little bit on the coffee consumption. I only drink it about 3 or 4 mornings a week. Heh. It's just that it tastes so good with the morning pastry!

There is something, a saving grace of sorts, that I know I can rely on to not get too hooked. Hooked to the point where I need a hit of coffee the minute I wake up. And that saving grace is my laziness. I can't be bothered with all the work that goes into making coffee, and I doubt I ever will. Filters and scoops and water and measuring and blah blah blah. Phooey to that my friends! Phooey. To. THAT!

50 Word Fiction Friday

The Promise
Just one more. That's all. Just one. What could it hurt? Just one more, I promise, then I'll stop. I can stop, you know. And I will stop. Right after this last one. I'll take just one more internet personality quiz and then I'll get back to work. Scout's honor!


What's this? A second 50 Word Fiction story? Why yes, yes it is! No, please, really, no need to thank me.

Imaginary ego?


The Craving
She wanted it. She needed it. To feel the warmth, the caress, deep inside her. There was no better way to wake up in the morning. So if she didn't get her venti mochaccino soon she was going to rip that freakishly chipper smile right off the Starbucks worker's face.


The Theme: this week it's addiction.

The Inspiration: well, these aren't personal addictions or anything. I just, uh... enjoy these things. A lot. So I can understand how they may be addictive to some people. But I don't have a problem. I don't. Honest. And nay, this lady doth not protesteth too mucheth.

Now French fries, that's a true addiction. And god bless Coworker Zack, he just brought me the almost-full bag of french fries from his Farmer Boys lunch. They are a bit cold, but still... they're french fries!!!

A Boredom Sandwich

Boredom...

Brainy Ogres Read Enigmatic Dictations Of Monkeys.

Madonna Only Nibbles Kelp Egg Yogurt Snacks.

Soft Noodles Are Crafters Kryptonite, Silly!

Stupidly I Live Like Yoda.

Yodel Offensively During Arias.

Arrogant Raisins Invade Army Snack.

Soup Nazi Attacked Cracker Kingdom.

Keyboard Instructor Never Groped Dentist Or Model.

Monsoons Outside Detour Energetic Llama.

Lopsided Lovemaking Always Mimics Arc.

Always Rally, Caleb.

Chesty Alphabet Letters Emulate B.

... Boredom

(I guess I'm hungry. I mentioned snacks twice. Heh.)

You don't need endless supplies of avocados to goof around and do squat.

I called my mom last night to ask her a couple of things, and, as so often happens here in the Land of Forgetfulness, I immediately forgot all three questions as soon as the phone was answered. But it was my dad who answered the phone so I chatted with him a bit and didn't have to worry about what I'd so inconveniently forgotten.

Last weekend my dad was up in Santa Cruz with a brother-in-law and there was apparently some sort of music video being filmed at their hotel. My dad asked me if I watch a lot of music videos because he wants me to play lookout for him. Occasionally, in the morning as I'm getting ready for work, I'll change the channel from the news to MTV or MTV2 or VH1. So I see some videos. But I don't have TRL in a tivo wishlist or anything so I wouldn't say I see a lot of videos. Sorry daddy-o.

My dad starts telling me about this music video anyways. Or whatever it is. He wasn't quite sure what was going on. It could have been a big blockbuster movie or a student film or whatever. But he did know that the 'video' is about a black guy dressed up as a bellhop who likes to sing in the elevator.

So please, if you ever see this video, or movie, or whatnot, let me know. I promised my dad I'd keep an eye out for it. :)

That's all the information he could give me: black guy, bellhop, elevator. He doesn't know who the singer was, but that doesn't mean anything. The guy could have been the biggest super star on the planet and my dad might have recognized him, but wouldn't have known his name. He's not really into music and pop culture stuff. But he said it was really fun to watch these guys running back and forth along the balcony.

And, as my dad is telling me all this, I can hear my mom yelling in the background, "Who would she want it to be?" or something like that. She yells this several times, but my dad isn't playing along and keeps talking with me. When he finally hands the phone over to my mom she says, "Who would you want it to be next to you in the elevator?" I tried to think of a black male singer and my first thought was that Kayne West guy, but I couldn't think of his name, so I tried to think of another guy. Poof! The mind pulls up a picture of Luther Vandross. An old guy. Blah. I try and think of another guy and poof! I think of Lionel Ritchie. Another old guy. Blah blah blah. My mom's first thought? Usher. Why she's thinking of the young hot studs and I'm not I have no idea. But that's just wrong! It should be the other way around! I blame it on whatever caused my temporary memory loss.

I could practically hear my mom drooling over the phone when she said the name Usher. "Wouldn't you like to be in an elevator with him?"

"Not really."

"No??? He's hot."

"Eh." (I'll admit he's hot but he doesn't exactly get my boat a floatin')

"I'd especially want to be near those abs. *drool sound* Wouldn't you?"

"Eh, not so much. They're a bit too much for me."

There were a few more moments of my mom waxing poetically about the beauty and perfection that is Usher's stomach muscles. Then we got down to the reason for my call. My questions.

"Uh... I was going to ask you three questions. Now I can't remember them."

She laughes. And it's a laugh that says, 'been there, done that, and it only goes down hill from here you poor, young, thing you.'

Then the questions started coming back to me, one by one. In case you are wondering (as I know you all must be) here are the answers:

No, I don't need to figure out how to bring a sweater to texas with me in case it gets cold. My mom is packing an extra one I can steal if I need it. Not that I'll be needing one, its going to be so friggin' hot there next week (next week! heeee!) but it never hurts to be prepared.

And sure, mom can record the season finale of Lost for me, but she might forget to not delete it when she's done watching it. "Can't you watch it?" she asks me. "I plan to, but what if the apartment catches on fire? What if the FBI arrest me by mistake because they think I'm Kiki the Evil Mastermind of a drug smuggling ring and the tivo doesn't work? I'm just covering my bases." "Oh, okay. I'll see what I can do."

The third question wasn't anything important. I just was wondering who my mom was going to spend her hard earned cash on when she votes for the next American Idol. It's Carrie, who she's been in love with since day one. That's the chick's name right? Who ever isn't Bo, that's who she's voting for.

I almost want to start watching American Idol so I don't feel so left out when I'm in a room of people who absolutely salivate when the topic of Idol gets started. But then I think about the last few times I've attempted to watch the show and I cringe. I just can't do it. I can only handle that show in five minute increments. Which is why the fast forward button is a mah-velous invention.

Anywhoo... time to goof around and do squat elsewhere. :)

(Post title once again courtesy of, of course, The Dr. Phil Random Quote Generator )

You don't need leprosy to expose yourself.

Star Wars Horoscope for Taurus

You are a dependable creature, but you do tend to be stubborn. You like material possessions and love to win at games. You hate being bossed around or losing. You may succumb to your physical strength when upset. Star wars character you are most like: Chewbacca

What is Your Star Wars Horoscope?

Dependable? Yes. Stubborn? Yes.
Likes material possessions? Yes - my cute new tinkerbell purse is getting so many compliments!
Loves to win at games? Okay, this one is stupid. Who doesn't like to win at games???
Hate being bossed around and losing? Duh.
May succumb to physical strength when upset? Dude, I've been upset a lot lately and I haven't cold-cocked or bitch-slapped or rained my all powerful mighty fury on anyone yet, so I'd have to say this last one just doesn't jive with me.

But I guess three out of four ain't bad for a vague made up horoscope. :)

[Insert Wookie Yodel Here]

(Post title courtesy of The Dr. Phil Random Quote Generator )

You don't need a broken toe to dare to be stupid.

Dude, Showtime and those other pay-extra-to-watch movie cable channels are awesome. There's cussin' in them thar channels!

The other night I was watching Penn & Teller's Bullshit! show (which totally rocks the cat box) and Penn called someone a fucker! *tee hee*

I have no idea why that delighted me so. But it did. Made me giggle. The F word made me giggle. Probably because of the way he said it, and who he said it about.

It was a very enlightening show, this Bullshit! show. The first one was about ouji boards (at least the last half that I saw.) The second was about how Mother Teresa, Gandhi, and the Dali Lama aren't all perfect and saintly and holier than thou like I'd been lead to believe. And I was easily lead there too, not questioning for a second that they were and did anything but good things. But if you think about it, its highly unlikely that these people would be completely 100 percent perfect, because they are human after all. But sheesh! The things I never knew about these people! Makes me want to read more about them, to get a bigger picture than a half hour bullshit show can give me. :)

Sigh. If only I had the time.

You know which Twilight Zone chills me to the bone? The one with the guy who loves to read books and time stops and he's so excited because now he has all the time in the world to read all the books he's always wanted to read and... and... and his glasses break - dun dun DUNNNNN! Oh the horror!

Other than the cussing though, and silly Penn & Teller antics, Showtime sucks. It really does. There's nothing on those channels that I want to watch. Nothing! What good is a free movie channel package when all that's showing is crap?

Well, its free. That's what good it is. And so far my tivo receiver thing hasn't crapped out on me again.

*crosses fingers toes arms legs boobs and other twisty bendy parts while knocking on wood with forehead.*

Cheap generic desks are still made out of wood right? They haven't invented some cheaper concoction yet, have they? Maybe its plastic. I didn't just bang my head on the desk for nothing, right?

*knocks on a stack of papers*

(Post title courtesy of The Dr. Phil Random Quote Generator )

Tuesday Is Chooseday!

Would you rather...

1. spend 76 hours at a rave OR at a work/education conference?

Oh I so want to go to a rave. Always have. Just haven't had a rave buddy to go with me. Bummer, that.


2. star in your own sitcom that only lasts one season OR star in one hit movie?

Which will make more money in the long run? The sitcom has syndication and a multiple dvd package. The movie has a one time box office draw (unless it's a classic like Star Wars or Grease) and then viewing rights to be sold to as many tv cable networks. But which pays more?

Which will boost my Local Appearance Fee when I have to resort to whoring myself out to Mini Mart Grand Openings?

That reminds me... I totally recognized the guy hocking fancy cooking ware at my local Costco. He's been in a bunch of movies, in bit parts... I just can't remember which ones right now (and its totally driving me crazy!!!). But that was so totally him. Whoever he is.

I'm pretty sure I recognize him from movies and not tv so... I think I'd rather star in my own sitcom thankyouverymuch.


3. drive a winnebago everywhere for a month OR drive a scooter?

Driving an RV is hard. At least it was the one and only time I did it, which was about ten years ago. But scooters are slow. And don't come with a/c. Or surround sound. Or room for my posse. Gotta have room fo' da posse!

So yeah, I think I'd rather RV it for a month.


4. drink a shot of laundry detergent OR a glass full of white vinegar?

The shot of detergent. Both would be gross, so the sooner its over the better.

5 Questions From Judy

Okay, so here's the thing. I volunteered to have Judy ask me five questions. The answers are below. Now, along with my answers, I have to offer my making-up-questions services to you, Dear Readers. If you want to play along and have me ask you questions that you can answer on your own site/blog/journal/hand/napkin/etc, so that you can then offer to ask questions of your own readers etc etc etc, just leave a comment on this post.


1. If you had to pick one, and only one, person... who would you say has influenced you the most in your life?

This one's easy to answer - My mom. She's one of the smartest, nicest people I know and she's taught me so much about so many things. And while she's shared her thoughts and opinions about certain heavy topics (politics, religion, etc) she's done it without saying, 'this is what you should believe because this is what's right and everything else is wrong and stupid' and I love her greatly for it.

Though, to be honest, she called me stupid when I didn't checkmark the Democrat box when I first registered to vote. (I didn't know what to pick so I went with Independent. Heh.) But she said the word 'stupid' in a loving sort of away, in a loving 'are you crazy?' way. No really, I felt the love. Truly I did. And it made me laugh. :)


2. Which do you prefer, Regular or Peanut M&M's?

Peanut M&M's by far. Nuts are yang to chocolate's ying.


3. Do you believe that certain people are predestined to take on certain "roles" in society (ie: women = mothers/homemakers/cooks/cleaners, or lower-income-people = janitors/fast food workers/maids)? Why or Why Not?

I believe that certain people may be more likely than others to take on certain roles in society, but I don't believe anyone is predestined to fill them. There are too many people breaking away from 'the mold' for me to believe that their 'type' was predestined for a particular role in society.


4. If you had a magical Time Machine that could take you anywhere in time, what era/period of time would be your first stop?

First thing that came to mind: the Flapper era.

My mom told me once that my great grandma was a flapper, and was apparently really into the whole flapper scene. I can readily believe it, yet can't quite picture her that way in my mind. I'd love to go back in time and witness it first hand. Plus, making sure I blend in would be the ultimate in playing dress up. I absolutely love the little fringy flapper party dresses of the time. Oh, and I enjoy the type of jazz music from the late twenties too. So all around it would be a fun place to visit.


5. What if the Hokey-Pokey really is what it's all about?

Dude, the Hokey-Pokey is what its all about. You go through life sticking random body parts Out There, into the Great Unknown, and you do it over and over and over again. Then you wiggle it about, secure in the knowledge that other people are doing the same thing as you (wiggling their bits all over the place) and yet frightful that your wiggle will be judged differently than others ( "oh my god look at the spaz!"). Then you turn yourself around. Lather Rinse Repeat. And so continues the circle of life. Amen.

Yep. That's all life is. A bunch of people standing in a circle shaking body parts at one another and turning around in circles until the get dizzy and fall down. Or until the DJ clears the floor for the 'Couple's Dance'.

The Good, The Bad, The Oh My God This Could Get So Much Worse!

A.K.A. 'A Recap of My Lame Ass Weekend.'

FRIDAY (The weekend officially started, for me at least, when I left work on Friday.)

The Bad: I had not one but two flat tires.

The Good: America's Tire Co. didn't charge me a dime for the fix! Woohoo!

The Potential For Future Bigger Bad: This is a recurring problem that will probably lead to me having to buy all new wheel well thingies. Hurts the accounting part of my brain just thinking about it.

SATURDAY

The Bad: my tivo is crapping out on me! I don't have to watch television all the time but its nice to know its there if I want it. And now its not. *sob* Stupid receiver thing keeps locking up, keeping me away from all the tv goodness. The tech guy said the only thing to do was to try a Delete Everything And Start From Scratch rebooting sort of thing. (Am I down with the technical mumbo jumbo shit or what?) If this doesn't work I'll have to buy a new tivo box. *accounting part of brain spazzes*

The Good: when I tried the tivo after the reboot it locked up on me again. So I unplugged it, walked away, and tried it again on Sunday. Seems to be working now, but I'm walking on egg shells, waiting for it to crap out for good in a big hiss of smoke. But it is currently working. So for the moment its all good in the tv 'hood. Plus, the tech guy said he'd hook me up with free showtime for my 'inconvenience.' Sweeeeeet.

The Potential For Future Bigger Bad: I still have a few season finales to watch. I could miss the others and it would suck, sure, but it wouldn't really be that big of a deal. But Lost? Ohmygoodygoodness I have to find out what happens!!!!! I'm crossing my fingers and chanting 'last until thursday mr. tivo, last until thursday'.

SUNDAY

The Bad: I was in the drive-thru at Burger King where the following conversation took place...

Voice of Burger King Drive-Thru Window Worker Coming Out of Speaker Box: Order when you're ready.
Me: Okay, I'd like a Whopper meal..
BK: I'm sorry, we're all out of Whoppers.
* pause *
Me: Are you serious?
BK: Yep.
Me: Okkkaaaaaay. Uhhhh..... how about a... double Whopper meal?
BK: We're all out of Whopper meat.

Can you believe it? The Home of the Whopper was all out of Whoppers!!! Color me Twilight Zoned.

The Good: I was forced to try a chicken sandwich and discovered it was quite tasty.

The Potential For Future Bigger Bad: The end of the world. The Home of the Whopper without its Whoppers? Its got to be a sign of the apocalypse or something.

"The Whopper's been evicted," the HB said as I drove up to the drive-thru window, highly amused at the Whopper's predicament. "You should blog about this."

Now how does he know I have nothing better to blog about? Phooey!

Actually, I do have something better to blog, but I want to make sure I give the questions Judy came up with the attention they deserve. So if they're not up today, they'll be up tomorrow. (Promise!)

They might have been up this weekend, but I am currently without internet at home (a travesty, I know) and while I was intuitive enough to print out a copy of the questions to take home with me I was forgetful enough to leave them at work. Heh.

The post in which I think I might be breaking personal posting record.

The quiz caught me in an an exceptionally happy mood. Otherwise I think my Wrath score might have scored a 20%. No higher, though, because I'm really not that mean. But 0%? That's just freaky. Everyone's at least a 1 or a 2%. Too bad the quiz isn't that detailed. :)

Your Deadly Sins

Sloth: 80%

Envy: 60%

Gluttony: 40%

Greed: 40%

Lust: 40%

Pride: 40%

Wrath: 0%

Chance You'll Go to Hell: 43%

You will die with your hand down your underwear, watching Star Trek.

How Sinful Are You?

Dude, what an painful way to go (heh heh). And hooboy do I get my rocks off watching Patrick Stewart. That's some major bald headed yumminess right there. MmmMmmmm!

I'll take 'Things That Suck' for 300 please Alex.

I still don't know how badly the new Star Wars movie sucks. I didn't watch the movie yesterday, but not because of a lack of effort on my part. I called the HB to see if he was asleep, because I'm psychic like that, and, indeed, he was asleep. Until I woke him up that is. (heh, sorry sweetie). I didn't bother to buy tickets then and figured it was all for the best since the boss's boss had acted all weird when I'd asked him if I could leave early.

An hour or so later, a half hour before I normally would have gotten off of work, the HB calls me up and says, 'hey, are you coming home?' Oy vey. I wasn't going to leave, but then the little chickie in the red cape and red tights on my shoulder said, 'go on, I dare ya' and apparently that was all the motivation I needed right then. I said, 'eff it!' to no one in particular and took off. I rushed home, picked up the HB, and rushed to the theater only to find that tickets were sold out until a time that was too late for the HB to see the movie and still make it to work on time. Bummer dudes. I was ticked off, mainly because I felt bad for leaving work. And then I felt annoyed for feeling bad for leaving work. And that made me irritable.

Fortunately this was quickly fixed when the HB asked, 'where to now m'lady'. He called me m'lady. Sigh. That made me feel all fluttery inside.

'Where to' was Walgreen's. I wanted a new notepad for this idea I want to start writing about so bought a notepad with a cutesy flower cover (because for some reason all the half used notepads I have just wouldn't do.) I also bought a spiffy air freshener for my car (it smells like apples!).

Oh, and I bought cards for upcoming birthdays. I really wanted to buy a 'make fun of your age' card for my mom, but wasn't sure she was ready for those kind of cards yet. So I went with the 'I'm the good child and I'm sorry for not rubbing off more on your other child' card. That was the best non-'ha ha you're old' card. I also bought a card that points out my dad is one year closer to making up shit like old guys like to do. I bought another card for my best friend who's birthday is holy crap just eight days away! (don't worry Z, I've bought more than just the card, but... um... you might not get it before your b-day. d'oh!)

The Boyfriend bought (because you're all dying to know all the fabulous details, right?) some B-6 vitamins and some weight loss pills that I hope don't work because they're expensive and if they work like I've heard they do I might just cave and buy some myself. But damn they're expensive.

For dinner we went to this new place called B-Man's. I love their teriyaki chicken bowl but I'm trying to be different every time until I work through at least half the menu - and since this was only my third time there I got the teriyaki chicken sandwich and french fries. The fries were most excellent but the sandwich sucked. It sucked almost as badly as the Casper Van Dien made-for-sci-fi-channel-tv-movie (The Fallen Ones) the HB thought would be funny to watch while we ate our dinner. Bleagh! If you've ever seen Casper Van Dien act, or seen a sci-fi movie 'original', you know the awfulness that was this sandwich. Man does that guy suck.

As I was pulling out of the B-Man's parking lot I was worried about the safety of my small coke. It was too small to fit securely between me and the arm rest thingy so I said, "hold on to this for me, will ya?" Immediately the HB's hand clamps on to my boob. I slapped his hand away and kept on driving. "Not the boob silly. My drink." "Oh. My mistake," he says in faux innocence. He grabs my drink, gets it situated in a safer place, then says, "If I can't hold your boob I'll hold your drink. And it will..." he interlaced his fingers together and emphasized how stuck together they are "... complete me." This made me laugh, which is just one of the reasons why I love him. :)

So while I didn't get to go see the star wars movie, and my lying-to-a-boss was all for naught (but its good practice right?), my day ended well with the purchase of a crisp new purdy notepad, french fries, and a couple of HB-induced laughs. Ahhhh... good stuff.

50 Word Fiction Friday Vol. VII - Round Robin Style

It's Daisy Chain Round Robin Whooseywhat themed 50 word fiction Friday today, so instead of posting my latest little 50 word fiction masterpiece I'm just going to direct you all over to jodi's place.

It’s a Daisy Chain Round Robin story and you can't read just a tiny slice of the whole story. Well, you could, but its more enjoyable this way. Really. And then, after you read the story as it stands so far, you should add your own chain, because that's the ultimate in enjoyable!

Really :)

Frell you Friday and the guava llama boat you rode in on.

First someone steals my chair and violates it by sitting on it without so much as a how-you-doin'.

Then some one calls me up to tell me my car has a flat tire!

Aren't Friday's supposed to be safe havens from the big bad Beginning Of The Week and Middle Of The Week. I mean, Friday's are supposed to be something you look forward to. If it keeps this up, I'm going to have to start looking forward to Thursdays instead. You don't want that now, do you Friday? You don't want Thursday to steal your glorious thunder now do you?

Sure, I got my chair back. And sure, there's a tire shop up at the mall that's just a hop, skip, and two quick freeway interchanges away that a coworker says sometimes doesn't charge you for fixing flat tires. But still, Friday's are supposed to be nice and warm and fluffy and pure.

I'm just irritable today. I need to remind myself of the phone conversation I had with my mom a couple of days ago. She asked how I was doing, and an automatic 'fine' flew from my mouth. She said that was good to hear because I was the first person she'd talked to that day that was doing fine. Not to be out done, I told her how I'd hurt my back again (no biggie, really, because I'm all better today). Then she tells me about my dad, who hurt his back, right before this big group golf trip him and his golf buddies had planned for this weekend. Then she told me about my brother and the boil he'd had removed and how much pain he was in and all the puss and blood and ew gross gross gross. Then she told me about my aunt J, her sister, who went to the emergency room last week because she woke up in the middle of the night with half her face paralyzed. Thought it might be a stroke. Turns out to be Bell's Palsy, which, while still majorly sucky, is a lot better news. Mom told me not to laugh at her when I see her in a couple of weeks (and I was extremely offended that she would even need to say that to me) but that I can laugh with her. I guess my aunt's cracking a lot of jokes about it, like saying at least she'll be saving money on makeup since she can only put it on one side of her face, and saying things like 'hey! My forehead wrinkles are gone!'. An extraordinary way of dealing with it, to my way of thinking.

Sigh.

So, in retrospect, I'm having a MUCH better Friday than my loved ones.

I take it back Friday. I still love you. No go be nice to my family, ya hear?

Missing Chair Update

I did it. I just switched chairs. I got my beloved chair back!

I saw the chair stealer guy and the guy who's office they were in walk to another office. I waited a few minutes and they didn't reappear. Then I rented me a set of brass balls (Gonads R Us! We rent by the hour!) and went and got my chair back.

And my heart is still racing from the fear of getting caught and having to try to explain why I'm playing musical chairs.

Not that I should have to defend myself or anything. It's just a stupid chair. It's not even that great a chair. It's just better than the other chairs and...

God, I'm such a dork.

Loon's Poetry Corner featuring 'Ode To My Missing Chair'

Ode To My Missing Chair

My chair is gone.
And in its place is a an imposter.
Did they think I wouldn't notice
that an inferior chair has taken my baby's place?
Did they think my ass was that stupid?
Nay! Nay, my ass says! I will not be fooled!
I will not be placated by this poor excuse for a chair.
If it can even be called that.
My chair, my real chair, is perfect.
Perfectly molded to the contours of my backside.
It's like the chair and my back were meant to be together.
Meant to interact with each other day in and day out.
It was... kismet.
But this new chair?
It's a horrible, horrible nightmare!
The seat slopes down.
The back slopes backwards.
Where's the support?
Where's the love?
Do they expect me to carry on like this?
Without the proper sitting arrangements?
Where's the support?
Where's the love?



I really can't work like this. I can't sit all day in this chair. It's already uncomfortable. Maybe its all in my head, the 'already uncomfortable' part. But still, this chair is, and I rarely like to use this term but it is completely necessary in this instance, RETARDED.

Someone stole my chair, the comfiest chair I've found in this place (aside from the really spiffy ones management gets), and they put this retarded chair in it's place. Why couldn't they just take this one? It's fine for their temporary purposes.

Because I found my chair. It's being used by some visiting guest. Like they need it. Bah!

I wasn't going to look for it. I wasn't going to be that crazy person who went into every office, interrogating all the employees, mumbling about how I was going to 'set the building on fire' if they didn't give me back my stapler... er, chair.

So I planned this quick yet subtle recon mission. I got up from my desk to throw an empty water bottle and a bunch of old paper work into the recycling bins (one bin for each item). I peered into offices as I walked past and that's when I spotted it. My chair. In the office next to the recycling bins. Being used by someone I've never seen before. A visitor of some sorts. I recognized the chair because its got a big ass star shaped masking tape sticker on the back of it.

Dude, if you're going to steal a chair, steal one that's not so easily identifiable.

Amateurs.

I was tempted to yell out, 'Hey that's my chair!!! Give it back you big chair-stealing-meanie you!!!' But I didn't. Because I'm calm and professional like that. I'll just wait until the guy leaves and then go steal it. Because I am sneaky and cowardly like that.

Heh.

This sucks. I can't believe they took my chair when there are three other perfectly okay chairs in this little cubicle valley o' mine. My desk is the only one that looks like its inhabited. Why didn't they leave my chair alone?

Rat thieving bastard!!!

Inevitability (maybe)

Well, it looks like I'm going to try and ditch the last hour or so of work just to go watch the latest Star Wars movie. I didn't want to, but the HB is practically peeing his pants in anticipation. And the earlier we go, the sooner the HB can come back and take a quick nap before heading in to work tonight (for some reason he's really wired and hasn't gone to sleep yet today.) Plus, I really don't want to spend more than matinee prices on this movie.

I'm not looking forward to it. All the fears and suspicions I had that episode III would be as painful as episode II were confirmed by saw-it-at-midnight callers to my favorite morning radio program. All the things I found painful about the last movie are still going strong in this latest installment.

Bummer.

So I'll be going into the theater with the expectation that I'll want to poke my eyes and ears out afterwards, but I'll also be going in with the hope that I'll be pleasantly surprised. Maybe those hardcore gotta-see-it-at-midnight fans didn't know what they were talking about. They did rave about some things. I just hope that those 'some things' make up for the rest of the movie.

See, this is me building myself up to be disappointed, so that in the case that it doesn't suck too majorly, I'll kind of like it. If I go in expecting anything, and there's nothing there, I'll be as bummed and in need of a good eye scrub as I was after episode II. Boy did that movie suck.

And yet here I am, willing to get out of work early to see the Revenge of the Sith, like I'm some kind of glutton for punishment.

Hmmm... to ditch or not to ditch? That is the question...

My immediate boss isn't here so I asked his boss, who used to be my immediate boss before the immediate boss came into the picture, if I could leave an hour early, all while using a much better excuse than 'I wanna go watch me a movie'. I mean, I don't want to just take off without telling anyone. That would be wrong. More wrong than lying to the boss to cover up the real reason for leaving early. Well, the boss's boss looked at me strangely, like 'why the hell are you asking me' strangely. Er... okay. Maybe I shouldn't leave. Or maybe next time I'll just disappear and say 'oh, well I told the stapler I was leaving. I thought that would be good enough.'

Whatever dudes.

... I hope I don't get some work demerit for leaving early. I think I got some sick days left, that should cover it. I think.

Maybe I should call The Boyfriend and make sure he's still awake. I don't want to leave early and rush to the theater if he's all nappy nappy.

Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll call to stall as I figure out what to do.

Sheesh. I can be so indecisive sometimes. :)

Nifty Quote Of The Day

"I don't like to lose my bearings, so I keep them in a cabinet near my bed."

- quoteth George Carlin

"Polka will never die!"

And in today's grand tradition of posting links and not much else, I'd like to a) point you all to Jim Butcher's site and b) pose the following question: why isn't everyone reading his books?

Is it because of the sci-fi genre thing? The magic thing? It certainly can't be because of the funny thing. Or the really good writing thing. Because his books are awesome. Especially the Harry Dresden files. Of which I'm reading the seventh, and latest in the series, Dead Beat.

I <3 Harry!

Oh, and I <3 Bob. Bob is the shitnit! And Thomas. And Butters. "P-P-Polka will never die!" Heh. And Mouse. There's something fishy about that dog, but fishy in a good way, and I love him for it.

But Harry man, Harry kicks major bad guy ass. And manages to converse in snappy dialogue while doing it. Which endears me to a fictional character to no end!

Harry's this wizard you see (no, not the Hogwarts one - this one lives in Chicago), who has more than his share of carry-on baggage, and one of his best friends, a girl he doesn't realize he's crushing on (totally crushing - poor Harry - heh), is threatened by this big baddie who Harry has to work for or else, and in the middle of doing this work, which is to find something you don't want a big baddie to have, he runs into these other big baddies in great big wizard robes, demanding that he hand over something that's a part of the thing he has to find. At one point, one of the bad guys says something to Harry and, in grand Harry style, Harry says to him, "Touche, O dark master of evil bathrobes."

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA...haha...ha...

... ha ...

Okay. Trust me on this, it's a LOT funnier when read in context. But still, come on! Calling a bad guy a master of evil bathrobes? Pure comedy genius!

I've laughed/howled/cackled out loud (and I do mean loud) several times so far , and I'm still not done with the book yet. Damn you only-thirty-minutes-long lunch breaks!

And while I laugh at Harry and some of the other characters (esp. Bob) right now I really want to smack some sense into Harry. You know you're reading a really good book when you're so emotionally invested in the story and the characters that you scream "what the hell do you think you're doing" at a silly ol' inanimate object. Yes, I know the characters aren't real. Yes, I know the author made the character make a really stupid mistake because it gives the character more... er... character, and it makes for interesting possibilities for books to come, but... but... argghh! Why'd you do it Harry? Why?

Have I mentioned that I love these books? That'd I'd marry them if I could and have wild book orgies with them and... uh... No? I haven't mentioned that before?

I <3 the Harry Dresden files!

On a very off topic note...

Listing to Sarah Brightman renditions of Andrew Lloyd Webber songs is a VERY dangerous thing to do at work. I have this barely-controllable urge to sing out at the top of my lungs, "don't cry for me argentinaaaaaaaaaaah..." and I just can't do that. At least not here at work, where I have to appear professional and on task and busy and shit. Hopefully I've got the cassette tape* of someone else singing ALW songs in my car. (*Yes, I'm still in the stone age of automobile tunage, shaddup!) Then I can sing all I want on the way home and the only people staring and wondering if I'm sane or not will be strangers in passing cars and who cares about them.

Touuuuuch meeee! It's so eeeeeasy to leaaaaave me....

Strained giggle muscles are no laughing matter.

Strained giggle muscles are no laughing matter.

I just got done reading the latest 'Conversations with Dad' over at the Drink At Work blog. It was Grade A hil-AR-i-TEE.

It's a Laugh Out Loud sort of funny (especially the end bit about the monkey) and that just doesn't mix well in an open office floor setting with The Mega Boss standing just around the cubicle corner.

I think I hurt myself trying not to laugh out loud.

How can you not like muffins?

Seriously. How can you not like muffins? Especially muffins in mini muffin films? Especially when the mini muffin films feature talking and singing muffins! Seriously.

I haven't seen them all yet, but so far my favorite is the muffin finale. Even though the song is temporarily stuck in my head.

How can you not like muffins, when we're so good to eat?

*spaz*

Current Out Going Message:

I'm not at my desk at the moment but if you leave your name, number, and a brief message I'll get back to you as soon as my eye stops spazzing. Thank you and have a nice day.... BEE-EFFING-EEP BEYOTCHES!

My eye is starting to twitch.
And that's baaaaaaaaaaad.

I wonder if anyone will notice me taking another lunch break...

... or a break-dancing dance break... you know, to stimulate the brain and muscles and shit...

... eh ...

Noodles!

And the answer is... Miss Touchy McFeelYouUp, in the car, with the shovel!

This week, on Tuesday is Chooseday...

Would you rather...

1. have to hold onto the roof of a speeding car for a block OR jump from a moving train traveling 50 miles per hour?

I think more damage would be done if I jumped from a moving train. That requires some form of jumping and landing skills, of which I have a very limited supply. But holding onto to the roof of a speeding car? That just requires holding on skills. I think I could manage. I mean, sure, it would be super hard, but people do it in the movies all the time! How hard could it really be?

You know what's really hard? Trying to transport a huge 10+ foot cardboard sign, the kind mayors use when running for office, by placing it on top of a tiny little car. We (my friends and I) put the sign on top of my car and I held on with my left hand while driving with my right. The two guys with me, one in the passenger seat and the other right behind him, had a hold of the sign with their hands, their arms sticking out the windows. No bungee cords or ropes or strap down apparatuses of any kind were used. Just our hands. I had to drive about 2 miles per hour. Anything faster and the wind got up under the enormous sign and tried to rip it out of our grips. Pain. In. The. ASS!

Now that was hard. But my body? No where near as susceptible to gusty winds as a big ass cardboard sign. So I should be able to manage.

2. put a sick budgie out of its misery by snapping its neck with your hands OR put a sick dog out of its misery by hitting it with a shovel?

I'm not doing anything with my hands. Ick!

3. see lots of movies in theaters for six months where other patrons were too loud OR not see any movies for a year?

My first thought was that anything would be better than no movies for a year. Loud people? Bring 'em on. Along with my movies! Lots and lots of movies!

When the HB and I first started dating, he had a friend who worked at a nearby movie theater. The place was really lax on 'guests' of employees, so all we had to do was walk up to the door, say we were guests of the friend, and in we went. For free. And if the friend was working the concession stand? Free popcorn and sodas! Since we were poor starving college students (still kind of are, actually) this was the perfect date destination. It was a big 14 screen theater, and for months there wasn't a movie out that we didn't see. It was awesome. And then the power was abused, as it always is, by people trying to take too much advantage of a good thing. Friends of friends of friends tried to get in their other friends, it got out of control, management got fed up and soon afterwards employees were no longer allowed to get their friends in for free. Bummer that!

But while I'd like to see lots of movies in theaters for six months, especially the next six months, I don't know if I'd want to watch them with people that are 'too' loud. Loud can be okay tolerable. But too loud? That would ruin the whole movie going experience! Instead of enjoying the movie you'd be too busy imagining creative scenarios in which you make the loud people shut the hell up. Permanently.

So I think I'd rather not see any movies for a year. Then watch all the ones I missed in peace and quiet so I can truly enjoy them.

4. have the ability to heal by touch OR have the ability to see the future with 85% accuracy?

Heal by touch. That would be awesome. Seeing the future would be cool too, but just because you can see the future it doesn't mean you can change it, to prevent the big nasties from happening. But with the healing touch power you'd really be able to change things, you'd be able to help a lot of people. Totally awesome.

He's not heavy, but he is a pain in the ass.

Sometimes, even a loveable pain in the ass.

My brother called me last night. Wanted to wish me a happy birthday. Yeah, he was just a bit late. Six days late to be exact, but it was still great to hear from him. He apologized a few times for being so late with the birthday wishes, and I told him it was all right because A) I was going to call him up and give him a bad time for not calling me on my birthday, but I'm forgetful lately too and B) at least he called within the same month as my birthday.

He said I could call him a week after his birthday, to make up for it. But I think I'd rather call him on his birthday, rub it in that I'm the good sibling who remembers her brother's birthday. I can be bitchy like that sometimes. Heh.

And then, in the grand family tradition of giving family members a bad time, on my next birthday, before my brother has a chance to even think about calling me, I'll call him up and start singing, "happy birthday to meee, happy birthday to meee..."

My mom forgot an aunt's birthday once. She either forgot to call, or was really late with the phone call, can't remember which. But for several years after that my aunt, on the aunt's birthday, would call my mom up and start singing 'happy birthday to me...' Since I wasn't my mom, I thought it was really funny.

I can't wait to annoy my brother this way.

Now if only I can manage not to forget...

Beware the W. S. O. D. (And no, I don't mean the Wobbly Saucy Obscene Dancers)

Beware the W. S. O. D.

Mary Sue had been staring at a blank screen for hours and still didn't know what to write. It was beginning to appear that inspiration wouldn't be striking any time soon. Until then though, Mary Sue was determined to stare at the blank page, that taunting White Screen of Death.


The Name Of The Game: 50 Word Fiction Friday - Vol. VI

This Week's Theme: color

This Week's Inspiration: uh...

The inspiration was that I had no inspiration. I couldn't think of anything to write about. So I decided to write about that. That fact that I was writing about myself sort of inspired the main character's name, Mary Sue. Though this Mary Sue isn't a true Mary Sue. If she was, she'd be doing something a lot more exciting than staring at a stupid blank page.

I almost didn't have time to write anything today, what with the meeting (which was actually kind of fun in an elementary school sort of way) and the being-taken-out-for-lunch thing. And buying my tickets for my trip to Texas (!!!) next month. And doing all the must-be-done-Friday work things. It's been a busy, busy day.

And now that I can cross off the very necessary contribution to 50 Word Fiction Friday, I can officially go home. Well, in thirty more minutes.

29 minutes and 53 seconds... 29 minutes and 37 seconds...

Warning: this chair may cause severe butt soreness after prolonged exposure

Apparently my boss is a big fat liar. 'One hour' my ass! Yesterday's meeting lasted FOUR AND A HALF HOURS! Yes, that's what he originally scheduled the meeting for, but he didn't know when we'd be meeting, so he blocked out a excessively large chunk of time to cover all bases. He said he didn't think it would take more than an hour. Two tops. But after two hours we were only through the first of three pages! And we're still not done.

The plan is to finish everything up on Friday. Early Friday. As soon as I walk in the door Friday. Bah! But hey, the earlier we start the earlier we finish. Well, hopefully that's how it will work. Hopefully its not a situation of 'we have 20 more hours of stuff to go over so let's start early and see how much we can knock out in 8'. Fun, huh?

We started the meeting yesterday around 10:30am. A couple of hours later we were booted out of the conference room by another group's previously scheduled meeting. That was around 1pm. Yes, that means I missed the conference call I wanted to attend. Darn it. Hope it wasn't anything toooooo important. So me (the only girl) and the guys had to find another room because we were far from done. Nothing was available, and the lunch that we'd ordered was just a few minutes away from arriving, so we went outside to conduct the rest of the meeting on the plastic smoke break benches.

You know what? If you're going to be stuck in a meeting for a couple more hours, after already being stuck in the meeting for two hours and counting, its great to be outside. Especially on such an awesomely beautiful day like yesterday. Makes the fact that you're still working just a teensy bit better. So we ate pizza and continued on with our action planning while sitting outside, with its clear blue skies, warm sun, and cool breeze. It was nice.

But boy was my butt sore afterwards. Plastic bench seats can become quite uncomfortable after the first hour. Oy!

I finally got back up to my office a little after 3pm. That's four and a half hours of my life I'll never get back. :( It really wasn't that bad though, at least for the first couple of hours. We didn't get smacked around like a catnip smelling toy mouse like I thought we were. The Guy actually said we were in a 'really good position'. This was some really good sly, fly-under-the-radar ass kissing to make us feel better about all the work we still have to do. But it worked. Heh.

And boy do we have a lot of work ahead of us. That's what the meeting was about, making a list of all the things we need to do. The last part of the meeting was about assigning names of those responsible for each item. My name's not on the list the most (I think Zack's is) but its on the list a lot. So... er... go me! Some of the things I need to do I've been doing for... well... its seems like forever already. And if you've been reading this blog over the last couple of months you've probably noticed me whining about it. Probably. I know I've been pretty subtle about. :)

During the last half hour or so of the meeting, when I was ready to start banging my head against the plastic table for a little bit of excitement, I was almost willing to volunteer my name for everything on the list. Good thing the meeting ended when it did. :)

But as sucky as the day was, with the painfully long meeting with only one potty break and a working-through lunch, the boyfriend had a much suckier day. Much, much, much suckier. I complained about my day, then he told me all about his. He's got this new boss that acts like a military drill instructor and is on a major power trip at the moment. The HB was talking to the Drill Instructor when he noticed one of his employees was limping badly. When the Drill Instructor stopped talking, the HB asked the limper if he was alright, if he needed to go to the doctor or file a 'hurt on the job' report or anything. Drill Instructor Guy later yelled at the HB for disrespecting him, like the HB was supposed to ignore the hurt employee and give his undivided attention to the manager who's busy flashing his ego-inflated balls around like trophies and not letting his supervisors do their jobs.

There was a lot more crap that went on. A lot more crap that's making the HB think he needs to find another job. Again. So I felt silly for complaining about something so trivial as a stupid meeting.

It feels good to complain, so I'm going to keep on doing it. I'm just need to remind myself while I'm complaining that it can be A LOT worse.

Those poor squirrels

Okay, so apparently we're not having a 4.5 hour meeting.

*big fucking sigh of relief*

First, I emailed The Boss about the conflicting meetings, and he said the first shouldn't take more than an hour. Really? Just an hour? Sweeeeet! With all the bitching I'm sure my fellow coworkers will do (if we stay true to form to the way our weekly group meetings go) it will run for about an hour and a half, but that's still fine. I'll still make the conf call without doing much of a hurry shuffle dance.

Then I get an updated email from the guy running the conference call. Turns out the times on the first email were for the eastern time zone, and the conference call is really at 11am my time. Eek!

And now, now its after 10am, which is when the big important Let's Talk About Where We Stand meeting was supposedly supposed to start. But the Guy, the one who's flying in to orchestrate The Talk to find out what we've been up to, isn't here yet. He isn't even here yet!!!

And the clouds opened and there was singing in the hallways and in the trees and in the parking lot and the squirrels sang and the fluffy little bunnies rejoiced for all was merry in the land.

It's so nice to have everything so flexible around here. Let's throw last minute meetings together! Let's block hours of time for meetings so that we don't have to bother with silly things like actual work! Yeah!

Actually, I don't mind it all that much. I just wish it wasn't so frustrating sometimes. I don't want to delve into anything big or time consuming, since I have a conference call in a little over a half hour. So what to do? What ... to ... do?

I could do some work... nah! That's a silly idea! Actually, after I check me email I'm going to review the excel file The Guy sent to me and my group for review before he showed up today. I quickly perused it, and saw that I'd reviewed it awhile ago. I guess The Guy wants an update. So I guess I'll review it, refresh my memory, think up answers now so I show up for the meeting (whenever the hell it happens) loaded with answers. Correct answers, that is. Does no good to have the answers if they're not for the questions being asked.

Ah crap. No time for anything. The Guy showed up and now its meeting time.

And the bunnies frowned and the clouds wept tears of sadness and the squirrels started smoking crack and flipping off the cars driving by.

Remind me again why I got out of bed today.

This Guy, who's one of the key players in organizing this big globalization between all us sister facilities (sounds so boring and complicated, don't it?) is coming to our little place to smack us into shape. Well, it might not be that bad, bad enough to warrant an office smacking, but I'm sure he's going to make us feel bad for being so far behind everyone else. Though I don't think we're that far behind, or even the most behind.

All I know is that my boss scheduled a FOUR AND A HALF HOUR MEETING for me and my group to go over a bunch of shit with This Guy. I can't see there being FOUR AND A HALF HOURS of stuff to talk about. I can't, because it hurts to think about it. It hurts me to my very soul. I don't know if The Boss scheduled that much time for the all insightful reason of just in case, but I'm crossing my fingers for it. A coworker, who's last day is this Friday, is trying to get out of the meeting. I think he should suffer like the rest of us. He says The Boss says it'll be two hours minimum.

Bah!

:(

And after that? There's an important and what I'm afraid might be an incredibly boring and confusing conference call I have to attend. The scheduled times of the two overlap, so at least I'll have an excuse to ditch the first meeting early, a better one than Soon To Be Gone Coworker's 'i'm not going to be here next week so what do I care'. The Incredibly Long Meeting is scheduled for 10 am to 2:30 pm. The conference call is scheduled from 2 pm to 3 pm, and probably will run over.

So I may not post any more today. I may not have the time. And after the conference call, I may not have the will to do anything but drool and stare at my cube wall.

*whine*

Maybe I'll write/doodle something interesting on my notepad while I pretend to be taking notes. Yeah, if only I didn't have to pay attention and give feedback.

Drats and doggy darn its!!

10 Plans For This Summer

This isn't a list of the top most important plans, or the top most enjoyable plans of the summer, its just a random 10 things I'd like to, and plan to, check off my To Do list this summer.

10 Plans For This Summer

1. Finding a kick ass birthday gift for my best friend, who gave me a kick ass birthday gift last weekend. (Thanks again Z!!!)
   
   
2. Using the pens and stickers and cards Z gave me to actually send letters the 'old fashioned' way. :)
   
   
3. Going to Texas for my cousin's wedding. I'll be gone for almost a week, going to bbq's and fish fries, camping out next to my uncle's lake house with my parents and aunts and uncles and maybe some other cousins (no, not all in the same camper silly!). I can't wait!
   
   
4. Spending more time out at the pool so I don't look so scary pasty white.
   
   
5. Paying off all my credit card bills - a mighty goal this is. It probably won't be done, but it's a plan and I'm sticking to it.
   
   
6. Losing weight. Actually picking a weight loss plan and sticking to it instead of just saying 'I want to lose weight.'
   
   
7. Ending the longer-than-intended hiatus from college by applying to a new college. Finally.
   
   
8. Start reading the new Harry Potter book the day it's released.
   
   
9. Hiding the new Harry Potter book from the HB so he doesn't take it to work with him and read it before me.
   
   
10. Do a serious spring cleaning job on my bedroom (at least my half of the bedroom) and the closet (at least my half of the closet). I need to get rid of junk I don't want and organize the junk I do want.

So there you have it, my plans for the summer. All good and important things for me To Do. Now I just hope I do them all. Especially the ones I keep putting off until Later that really shouldn't be put off.

My First Ever Britney Spears Dream

I've had some fun and rather interesting celebrity-guest-staring dreams. The dream I had Friday night though, the one staring Britney Spears, was really... creepy. And not just because I was dreaming about Britney Spears.

I'm not a fan of Brit Brit's. Can't stand her really. I don't like her music and I don't like the sound of her voice, whether she's singer or just plain ol' talking. She's Grade A annoying in my book. And what's up with those pictures of her walking into gas station restrooms with bare feet?! Groddy! I sure hope she washed her feet before coming into my dream.

So, okay, let me explain something that happened Friday night, which is the reason why the dream took the form it did. The HB and I drove up to my parent's house Friday after work in order to be closer to Saturday's wedding destination. When we got there, Buster, my parent's dog (who used to belong to my grandpa before he got to old to take care of him), got really excited to see me. Buster, a scrawny little Chihuahua mutt mixture of pure energy, was shaking, barking, and dancing in circles as soon as I stepped through the door. How adorable is that?! Almost makes me want to smuggle him home with me. (It'd be more than 'almost' if it weren't for the whole popping thing and need-to-be-walked thing). So the dog is vibrating with excitement, and I call him over to me and pet and scratch and coo lovely little sentiments about what a wonderful little doggy he is. And I think to myself, Buster is so cute, if only he were smaller I could carry him around like a little accessory, just like Britney Spears does with her dog Bit Bit.

I don't think I've ever wanted to accessorize like Brineyt before, so this disturbing thought kind of snapped me back to reality and I went and said hi to the parents. The HB and I talked with my parents for a bit (with my dad doing most of the talking because he had a bit too much wine in him, and that turns him into a motor mouth, an adorable motor mouth that you just can't say 'enough already!' to.) After awhile though, the HB and I finally went to bed. Right before I got into bed I took off my earrings and placed them on the dresser.

So that was that. Then there was sleep. And then came the dream...

I'm sitting on a bed in a bedroom that doesn't resemble any bedroom in particular. I'm sitting at the foot of the bed and Britney is sitting up near the head of the bed, but it's a small bed so we're sitting close together. Because apparently we're friends like that. With her is her tiny little dog, Bit Bit. I remember seeing a thick, tube shaped pillow between Brit's knee and the wall. On the pillow (or whatever it is, a cloth bag perhaps) are the initials B.B. And I remember thinking, in the dream, How cute! It's has the dog's initials on it!

The next part of the dream that I remember has the dog trying to get past me, and for some reason I don't want it to. For some reason, it's not a good idea to let the dog get past me, so I grab its leash and drag it back towards Britney. The dog tries to run past me on the bed three times, and I feel bad every time I grab the leash, because I can tell the dog really doesn't like when I do that. On the forth try the dog gets past me. Did I let it go, or was it too clever that time? I don't remember.

I turn around and see the little dog on the bedroom's dresser, only its not a little dog any more. It's a RAT. And the rat has the back of one of my earrings in its mouth! GROSS! So I start smacking the rat's back, hard, over and over again, until it spits out the earring back. It eventually does. The rat continues to hack on something, like its a cat with a mutant hairball, but I don't care because at least my earrings are safe.

And that's all I remember of the dream, really dumb dream that it is. Thankfully Britney wasn't in it for long. (Bitch probably ran out of the room to let me deal with the dumb rat dog all by myself!) Her rat/dog was in the dream longer than she was. But what does it all mean? What was the dream trying to tell me?

When I remembered the dream on Saturday morning, I figured the dream was my subconscious trying to tell me my earrings were dirty and they needed to be cleaned for some reason before I wore them again. Silly me though, in the rush to get ready for the wedding I completely forgot. Oops.

So yeah, that's my Britney Spears dream. I told the HB about the dream, and he said he's had similar dreams. Only I wasn't in them. And neither was the rat dog. But Britney and the bed were there. Har Har. If only I could have had one of those dreams. I think it would have been a lot more interesting.

Because you know what, now that I think about it, this dream was a lot more interesting right after it first happened. Now? Not so much. :)

Do these birthday pants make my ass look old?

Seriously, do they?

You guys would tell me if they did, right?

Be honest now. We're all friends here.

Because I don't feel any older. And I'm pretty sure I don't look any older. I mean, I'm not walking around with a big ol' sticker on my forehead that says 'I'm 26 today! Yeah me!' so I doubt anyone could guess how old I am.

Not that there's anything wrong with being 26. I mean, its not like I'm 30 like some people I know.

*cough cough The HB cough cough*

:)

But seriously folks, I know I'm not old at all. Far far far from it. I'm still young! I'm especially young at heart. My inner child's age could be measured in anti-dog-years. While a dog's age is similar to the number of years he's been alive times seven, my inner child's age is similar to the number of years I've been alive divided by seven. So right about now she's this many...

*holds up three fingers*

... she's three and three quarters. So I have no idea how much work I'm going to get done today, seeing as how the inner child loves a chance to celebrate. In fact, I think its about time to take a super long lunch. :)

Fifty Word Fiction Friday Vol. V

Jimmy's Hollow Head

Jimmy had taken a lot of crap in his life but enough was enough.
"Whaddya mean my balls look like Mr. Ed?!" he yelled at his girlfriend.
"I said," Claire enunciated slowly "this doll's got a hollow head."
"Oh."
Jimmy remained sheepishly quiet while Claire continued shopping for craft supplies.

~

The Mission : write a story that's exactly 50 words using this week's theme phrase 'hollow head'. (Or hallow head. Or haunted head.)

The Inspiration : I have no idea where this one came from to tell you the truth. It was very roundabout. All the good ideas have apparently already left to start celebrating the weekend. This one was the runt of the litter, not fast enough to keep up with his brothers and sisters, so it got left behind. Sad sad sad.

I might try and write another one, a better one, but its almost time for me to leave and start celebrating the weekend myself. And by 'start celebrating' I mean go home, pack my bags for two days / two different types of weather (its forecasted to rain on Sunday, but not on Saturday, which is the day of the wedding. Eek!). That will take forever because I'm feeling very annoyingly self conscious about the dress up portion of tomorrow's festivities and know it will be ever more so tomorrow so I'll be packing as many outfits and pairs of potentially wearable shoes and accessories as the bag will fit. Oh, and I have to pick up a quick Mommy's Day gift on my way home. Then me and the HB are going to jump on the freeway and join all the commuters who are either driving home from work or traveling out of town for Mommy's Day. Traffic is going to be a bitch! Instead of a 3 hour drive it could turn out to be more like a 4 to 4.5 hour drive. Fun stuff!

I still have to get through the next thirty minutes first though. And the last thirty minutes felt like thirty hours! Gah!

"Well, if you must know, it was because he was very jealous, and I had these days of the week underpants."

My birthday is coming up. My 26th birthday to be exact. This Monday I'll be 26. Yikes! I can't believe I'm going to be that old. It's not old old, and I know when I'm a couple decades older 26 will seem incredibly young. Its just... well, as a kid I couldn't imagine myself being this old. I knew I would be, but I couldn't quite grasp what that meant. Every time I imagined myself doing grownup things, I imagined myself as I was, as the current age that I was, only taller. (If that makes any sense... lol.) Old people were old, were adults. Teenagers were a bit older and had a certain position of authority over my young self, but to me they still seemed like kids. Kids on the verge of grownupville but still kids. Like me. Twenty-somethings though, they were this whole other species. They weren't old like the adults, and yet they were still these strange grownup creatures (most of them anyways). I remember looking up to some of the twenty-somethings, admiring them, even idolizing some of them. There was this one girl, she was soooooo cool. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.

When I first turned 20, I remember feeling this really weird... tingly sensation of realization, like I'd just done a really fast somersault... as it dawned on me that I was now one of those 'twenty-somethings' that I had looked up to as a kid. And I wondered, did any of the little kids I know look up to me in the same way? I liked to think that there was at least one that did. And that gave me the warm fuzzies just thinking about it.

Now I'm a few days shy of being 26. Or, as they would say in the book Pride and Prejudice (which I just finished reading a couple of days ago) six and twenty. That's almost 30! And thinking about that makes me feel old. And so totally and completely unaccomplished.

You know that part in the movie When Harry Met Sally, near the end when Sally is crying about the old boyfriend and she cries that she's going to be 40, and Harry says something like, 'Yeah, in eight years.' Or however many years it was. And Sally says, 'but its there'. I was watching this movie the other day and I never thought that particular line was all that funny before. But now I do. Because I can so relate.

And speaking/typing of birthday's and the movie When Harry Met Sally, the title of this post is a quote from that movie. When I found the quote, it reminded me of a most embarrassing birthday moment that I'd forgotten about for some time now. It was my 7th or 8th birthday party and I was sitting in my living room, surrounded by family and friends, opening up my presents. One by one, I ripped off the wrapping paper, we all oohed and ahhhed over my fabulous new gift, then me and the gift posed together as mom took our picture. This was repeated several times. Then I got to my grandma's gift. (This is were the foreboding music would start to play.)

I ripped off the wrapping paper in giddy anticipation. Grandma and grandpa always got me great stuff. Under the wrapping paper was a cardboard box, the kind that you put clothes in before gift wrapping them. So I tore the top box right off... saw that the clothes inside were little Days of the Week undies... and slammed the lid back down before you can say 'Death By Embarrassment'. There were boys at this birthday party. And they saw my Days of the Week undies!!! Man, that was so embarrassing. Grandma apologized, saying she meant to leave that gift in the car until later. I hastily moved on, got some cool stuff, and quickly got over the whole 'flashing my underwear at boys' thing. At least I wasn't wearing them at the time, right? I waited until I was a couple of years older for that. :)

Beware the Spontaneous Jumping Bits of Food

They attack when you least expect it.
Doing kamikaze cannonballs off the fork.
Landing in the boobal area for all the world (i.e. esteemed colleagues) to see.

They are dangerous, these Spontaneous Jumping Bits of Food.
They've killed more shirts than I care to count.

If you're a sufferer like me, a person afflicted with BOSFAA (Boobs Of Supernatural Food Attracting Abilities), you know what I'm talking about.

I was attacked at lunch today. A small piece of chicken from the Cinco De Mayo Potluck Enchiladas I was about to consume jumped from my fork and dive bombed my chest. Did it very sneakily too, as I'm sure many minutes past before I noticed it.

When I did, I rushed the shirt to the Emergency (bath)Room. Put some cold water on it STAT! It was touch and go there for awhile. Touch and scrub and scrub and goddamnstainwon'tgoaway for awhile. But the shirt is in stable condition now. I think its going to pull through.

*crosses fingers*

I'm thinking about going back for seconds. Or even for firsts on the all the food I didn't have room for on my plate the first time through. But I don't know if I should. It might be too soon. Shirt might be too traumatized.

Then again, there is Kahlua cake.

Traumatized shirt, shmaumatized shmirt!

Come on everybody and do the New Kids dance!

Did anyone learn this dance? I didn't. I crushed hard on the New Kids On The Block, but I never learned their dance. Does that make me less of a fan? I owned all their cassette tapes and slobbered all over their posters (that were hanging up on the wall above my bed). That should have been enough, right? Actually, if I were a true fan I would have wrote them soppy obsessive love letters and joined their fan club and begged my parents to take me to their concerts. Which I never did. Guess they never floated my boat that much. But oh how they stared in many a daydream.

And I actually never really owned all of their albums (in cassette form). My (younger) brother bought (or was given as a gift) their Step By Step album. So I didn't have to buy it.

If he were here right now, I bet he'd deny it. But I know the truth bro. I remember how you wronged me, hiding the tape from me so I couldn't listen to it, hording it for your own listening pleasure. Oh, how that hurt me so! The scars run deep bro, the scars run deep.

Jeez, I'm a bit over with the dramatics today.

My excuse: I've got one of the NKOTB songs stuck on repeat in my head and its driving me INSANE!!

Step by step. Oooh baby. Gonna get to you girr-rrr-rrr-rrrl....

Too bad I never learned the New Kids Dance. That's just one less move I'll be able to bust this Saturday (at a friend's wedding). One less move in my bust-a-groove arsenal. Bummer, that.

You Know You Should Rethink Your Morning Sugar Intake When...

... you notice a thin layer of sugar sludge sitting at the bottom of your recently drained coffee cup.

Too much sugar?
Phooey!
Ain't no such thing
Nope, not for me!

Wheeeeee!

*boing*

*boing*

*boing*

A Morning In The Life Of The Fabulous Me

Here's a look at my day, as it stands so far...

4:30 am - I wake up.

Now, I don't normally wake up so friggin early. Lately the HB has been taking catnaps before going into work. And he's been dragging me right along with him so he has someone to cuddle with as he falls asleep. Cute, eh? So its not like I'm really dragged into the bedroom. Only problem is, sometimes I've been falling asleep myself. Last night, when the HB got up around 9:30 pm to go to work, I thought I was wide awake. I thought I'd be getting up with him so I could fold some laundry, pay some bills, and more importantly, watch some tv. Yeah, well, next thing I knew its 4 friggin 30 in the morning and I'm wide awake.


5:02 am - I'm in the shower sniffing the oil of olay body wash - with shea butter!!! - until I'm giddy with heady delight.

Just because I'm wide awake doesn't mean I can't 'sleep in' a bit. It was nice just laying there, not having to roll out of bed grudgingly or jump out of bed to do the Mad Morning Dash. But finally enough was enough. I had me some yummy body wash to sniff. And I had me some tivo-ed Veronica Mars I had to watch.


5:56 am - Finish watching VM and start fixing breakfast

Microwaved chicken nuggets dipped in a combination of ketchup and Del Taco mild sauce - breakfast of champions!


6:27 am - Finish watching previously half-watched tivo-ed Everwood and start watching tivo-ed The Amazing Race

This is when I realize I should start writing those checks for those bills that had to be put in the mail this morning OR ELSE!


7:08 am - Still haven't left the apartment yet.

Everything I could do in front of the tv set to get ready I did. Everything else waited until commercial breaks. By this time, though, all the necessary bills were paid and all the necessary body parts were brushed and deodorized and etc. I should have left a couple of minutes prior to 7:09, but all I had left to watch of The Amazing Race were the previews for next weeks episode. I could leave with just a minute left to watch!


7:31 am - I arrive at work.

Dude, I just made it! The Traffic Gods were definitely smiling on me this morning.


7:35 am - Nearly had a mild panic attack

I thought I was wearing the same shirt I wore yesterday. Eek! I racked my brain for a few frantic seconds, remembered what I wore yesterday, and breathed a big friggin sigh of relief. It's a similar color, but its not the same shirt. How embarrassing would that have been ?!

And its not like I thought I put on a smelly dirty shirt. I did laundry last night. All my shirt are clean. I just wasn't paying attention this morning when I grabbed a shirt (which was handily located on the chair next to the couch where I was watch tv. I knew there was a reason I didn't put away my freshly laundered clothes last night.)


7:49 - I hit my head on the bathroom stall door

Okay, now see, this could happen to anybody. I'm sure it could. There are two stalls in the girls bathroom up stairs. There's a teeny tiny one that doesn't allow for much acrobatics (like when you've got a tricky belt on or tricky pants or just a Caution Wide Load ass) and then there's the handicapped one, big enough to reenact the dance moves of your favorite J-Lo music video (not that I've done anything remotely like that. I've just recognized the bathroom stall's potential. That's all.)

The lock on the handicapped stall door is very tricky, but there's room to maneuver in there and when I pee I like to feel sardine free. (Hey! That rhymes!)

So this morning, after my tinkle, I tried to slide the lock across and, impatient I must have been for some reason, because I started to walk out before the door was actually opened.

SMACK!

Door smacked me right in the forehead. It's normally so simple. Slide metal thingy to the right, push door, walk out. It's that simple, that easy, that smooth. Only this morning, the metal thingy didn't slide, so the push on the door didn't work. Neither did my exit.

I'm sooooooooo glad no one was in there with me. Small miracles people! Be thankful for the small miracles!


7:50 am - ZIT ALERT!!!! ZIT ALERT!!!!

There's a fucking zit on my nose!!! Right there on the top of my nose, all red and shiny and shit, going 'look at me! Look at me!' Little rat bastard. It'd better be gone by this weekend is all I've got to say. I have a wedding to go to on Saturday!


8:47 am - Staring at desk, wondering how it got so messy.

There's paper everywhere! Some have scribbled notes to myself of things I need to do, to fix, to update, etc. Some are reference sheets, some are tasks I keep putting off, some are from training manuals I've got to set up. The pieces of paper are multiplying like rabid little sex bunnies! It used to be organized so it wasn't as much of a mess. Well, it's always looked like a mess, but I have a system and it works for me. But lately, its getting out of control. What the hell happened to my desk?!


8:59 am - print out Dilbert cartoon

Thought it was time to update the Dilbert cartoon with one The Boss might not find so offensive. ("It's on my wall because its funny, but not in a Ha Ha That's Just Like My Boss sort of way. Honest. You're nothing like that Mr. Boss Man.) It also helps keep the work space feeling fresh and happy and workable. Now the mess of papers doesn't look so scary. Wait, not scary. I'm not afraid of the stupid pieces of paper. If I were, I'd shove them in mini cabinets along with all the other work I've successfully ignored.


9:33 am - start email conversation with best friend

I was having a bit of wedding outfit anxiety. And wedding gift anxiety (To Gift or Not To Gift? That is the question my broke ass is asking.) And a bit of Inside Wedding Card note writing anxiety (I never know what to write inside a card and when I finally do write something its really lame, which is sort of a theme I've got going and anything different would probably through the recipient for a loop so I probably shouldn't change my style now that I'm so well known for it and... gah!). So yeah, had to whine a bit on the best friend's shoulder. I feel much better (i.e. less neurotic) now.


10:32 am - write last entry for boring recount of one's not-really-all-that-interesting-after-all morning.

I've been writing this off and on all morning and while this form of procrastination is thoroughly amusing its time to dig deeper into the pile o' crap on my desk. Time to finish some things and rearrange everything else so it looks like more works been done than not. :)