doodle-y-doo

How am I this morning you may be wondering?

(I don't know why you'd be wondering, but in case, for some strange reason, you are... )

I think this sums up my feelings quietly nicely, if I do say so myself.

I could doodle with this all day long. It's so much fun! :)

In need of a bib... or at least the ability to transfer food directly from my hand to my mouth without any detours to Boobville.

My area of boobage has become a hostile war zone.

First, my chest got bombed by the ranch dressing I was eating. (Carrots and ranch dressing = yum!)

I went to the bathroom for some damage control and managed to keep the wet spot to the size of a quarter. It was still visible to the curious-coworker-eye, but not as bad as it could have been. I think the arm I held up in front of it, as I subtly nibbled on a fingernail, camouflaged it quiet nicely. Just an old trick of the (Slobs R Us) trade.

Then, as I was eating some chicken noodle soup (Maruchan Instant Lunch = yum!) I got attacked again. This time by three separate drops of Liquid Evil.

This caused flashbacks to the last time I was attacked by three simultaneously dropped 'bombs.' I was about 11 years old, riding on a ferry with my parents and brother as we traveled from the north island of New Zealand to the south island. I was standing by the railing, watching the approaching land mass, when a bunch of seagulls starting circling up above me. I remember panicking, thinking, I should move before one of them craps on me. One particularly evil seagull picked up on my fear. Oh yeah, he smelt it. Then he dealt it. He shot three turds at me. THREE turds I tell ya!

Time slowed down for me then.

I had time to count each bird turd as they flew towards me.

One.

Two.

Three.

I had time to be afraid.

Oh.

My.

Gawd!

I even had time to dodge two of the turds. The third one, though, had my number. It splattered all over my new jacket.

I. Was. MORTIFIED!

To commemorate the special occasion, because you're nobody until a bird poops on you, my godfather bought me one of the grossest, coolest looking t-shirts. It was blue, with fake white and green bird poop all over it, and it said something clever about being crapped on by a bird like... well, I can't quite remember the exact wording. I think I still have that shirt somewhere though...

Anyways, speaking of shirts... the first spot had almost dried when my chest got attacked again. I made another trip to the War Room and did my best to clean my messy self up. But now? I've got a HUGE wet spot on the front of my shirt! Like, regulation sized donut HUGE.

Sigh. When will I learn that these noodle instant lunches are messy and that I should be more careful? Apparently not any time soon. If anyone walks by, I think I'll pretend that I'm having heart palpitations or something (as to cover the HUGE water spot on my shirt!). Maybe I'll print out a picture of Matthew McConaughey (hubba hubba), pin it up on my wall, and pretend I'm swooning or something.

Gah! It looks like I suffer from projectile drooling!

Caution: Sarcasm Chasms Ahead

(Well, they're not really chasms, just a few instances of, but it rhymed and I got nothing else so what's a girl to do? Get on with the post, that's what.)



Would you rather...

1. be a fan of the visiting team at a sporting event OR be a member of the opposite political party at a political rally?

Well, since I'd rather go to a sporting event than a political rally I'd choose the first one. As long as I don't wear a 'Your Team Sucks' t-shirt I should be alright.

Though going to a political rally could be fun interesting. I could see how the other side lives, giggle at all the asinine things they say, throw it down The Daily Show style and... nah, I think I'd still go see a sporting event.

2. visit a biker bar dressed as george w. bush OR visit a monastery dressed as a biker?

Now, are we talking about White House George or Vacation George? Because I'm all for dressing in jeans and a t-shirt and vacationing on big ranches for weeks on end.

But then again, I've always wanted to dress as a biker... so... I think I'd choose that one.

3. spend an entire month completely nude OR wear the same underwear for two weeks without washing it?

The same unwashed undies for two weeks is a bit much. One week I might have considered it, but two? That's just a tad bit gross. Grosser than me being completely starkers.

I'd rather spend an entire month completely nude, after, of course, I make sure I've got 4 weeks of vacation time and a house/apartment fully stocked with all the necessities of life I'll ever possibly need in a months time.

4. look and talk like Steve Urkel OR look and talk like Michael Jackson?

Oh holy mother of cheese whiz! Who'd want to look like Michael Jackson?!? That's one hell of a heebeejeebee looking mofo. Besides, Urkel is kinda sexy when he snorts, so I'd have that going for me. :)

Does this thinking cap clash with my shoes?

I have a quiz today - my first quiz as a Super Duper College Returnee - and I'll be taking it in, oh, 90 minutes from now. Eek!

I'm starting to feel a little antsy in my pantsy.

I'm pretty sure it will be a piece of cake. Its just a handful of multiple choice questions - my favorite kind of test. Some people hate multiple choice question tests. They'd rather write answers to essay questions.

I think these people are strange.

Because while I can rock the essay questions, and I can rock them goooood, I'd much rather just pick and choose from a collection of possibilities. It just seems easier to me.

Now true and false questions? I hate those evil effers. There's usually one or two that trips me up. No, just give me multiple choice question tests and I'm as happy as a beaver in a poppy field.

So I'm pretty sure this quiz will be a piece of easy-bake-oven cake. And I'm pretty sure the fifteen minutes I'll spend studying right before class (as long as I don't have to park out in BFE again) will be enough prep time. But still... antsy!

The Cautious Jigger - my 50 Word Fiction Friday submission

The Cautious Jigger

Having made sure the coast was clear, she stole across the room with cautious step. Then something awful happened. Her new shoes squeaked against the tiled floor! Heads of coworkers quickly popped up above their cubicles.

"Going back for a third piece of pie, eh Carol?"

The jig was up.

The 50 Word Fiction Friday theme this week is: the number 3.

This weeks inspiration: the peach pudding/custard pie that's sitting on the ledge of the cubicle Right Next To Mine! I had a piece of pie. I did. And it was goooooood. Several people have been spotted lingering by the pie, contemplating a second piece. Some have remained strong. And managed to walk away with only a quiet whimper. Most have succumbed to the pleasure that is the heavenly goodness of fresh peach slices and whip cream and custard and thin slivers of almonds and an ever-so-slight drizzle of caramel syrup and ohmygawd that crust is divine!

I am one of the former. No, really. I am! I don't even want a second piece. Honestly!

But I am seriously thinking about doing a quick walk-by and snagging a loose piece of crust. Divine!

Learning something new every day is fun!

A few minutes ago I was talking to my boss around the coffee pot/water cooler and he asked how my classes are going. I said, "So far so good."

The biggest problem is that I'm taking two literature classes and its kind of hard to keep the two readings separate. The other day I had to write a compare and contrast summary of the two stories I read (Epic of Gilgamesh vs. the story of Joseph from the Hebrew bible) for my World Literature class and I kept thinking of examples from a story I read (Beowulf) for my British Literature class. I think I've got the hang of it now though, and if I don't, at least the next couple of reading assignments are a little more diverse. :) Yep, it's going to be another fun reading-filled weekend!

My boss then asked me why I'm taking these particular classes. I told him that they are lower division requirements for my 'intended' major at UC Riverside, which I've applied to and hope to attend during the winter quarter. I told him that I plan to major in creative writing and do you know what he said to me?

"That was my major!"

Sweeeeeeet! A comrade in arms! Of a sort. Because now he'll understand why I have to have a funky work schedule to work around my school schedule. Not that he hasn't already been understanding, because he has. I sort of hit him with the 'can I change my schedule around starting next Monday' question on Thursday. Since it was to take classes, he and everyone else here have been very accommodating. As sucky as this place can be sometimes they know how to make up for it.

Well, to truly make up for it they'd pay me what I'm worth, or at least what this position should pay, but letting me have flexible hours in order to go back to school in order to get a degree in order to finally leave this place and move on to bigger and better things is certainly a nice start. :)

So anyways, my boss said that he took a few CW classes at UCR, and sent a few manuscripts out into the publishing ether, and its only now that I realize that I should have asked if anything came of it. But I guess if it had, he would have mentioned it. Besides, we got so busy talking shop that I didn't even have time to ask; I was too busy asking other questions. We talked about being creative and artsy and stuff, and he made some reference to how limiting my job is in that field, and I gave him a 'boy don't I know it' sigh, but I said I try and stretch my artistic muscle when I'm making SOP's, and taking screen shots for 'what to do when you see this error message' help guides, and I make the fonts really pretty in my reports, and I play around with the colors of the bar graphs so they are aesthetically pleasing and... yeah, the job certainly has its artistic limits, but I'm making a new cubicle wall slogan with my Newest Favorite Work Saying, so I'll just have to get my daily creative fix that way.

Newest Favorite Work Saying: How may I solve your problem?

I don't know why, but it just gives me warm fuzzies to say this to my fellow coworkers. And of course, its said with the brightest smile managable! All I have to do is find some spiffy graphics to add to the new office slogan and my latest piece of cubicle art will be complete.

So its been a pretty fun morning so far. Let's hope the rest of the day follows suit. (Preferably with some more rolling blackouts that last more than a half hour, that cause the whole plant to shut down, and that leave the Powers That Be no choice but to send everyone home for the day. And if it happens, I hope it happens right now, so I get paid for four hours of work for only being here for two.) :)

giggle highs are the best!

Sal, who's being a lot nicer to me this morning than I am to him (I'm snappish in a pms-y sort of way) offered to be an errand boy and fetch me anything I needed. "Coffee? Tea?" he suggested.

I perked up at the mention of coffee; I'd just been thinking I needed to chill out with a hot cup of caffeine in my hands, ironic as that may sound. Sal saw my reaction and asked, "Can I get you some coffee? Sugar? Cream? That little something special...?" He pauses for what he believes is maximum comedic effect then adds, "Like my thumb."

Oh ha ha ha not that funny any more. Sal has brought me coffee before. And when he hands it to me, or sets it on my desk, he usually makes some reference to his thumb being down in the coffee due to the way he was carrying the cup. One time he'd made it really sweet and/or put some sort of funky foreign creamer in it, and I said, 'yum, this tastes good'. His reply: "I added my secret ingredient." Then he smiles like a mischievous eight year old boy and says, "like my thumb." It made me giggle the first time he said it, which he took as a sign that it should be repeated. Frequently. It's made me roll my eyes ever since but the eye rolling, and even the flat out 'the-thumb-in-my-coffee-bit-is-not-funny-anymore' glare has yet to deter him.

I thought it was just my grandpa who told the same one-liners over and over and over again. But no, Sal does it too. He can be funny as all get out, don't get me wrong, but sometimes Sal's humor just falls as flat as a cat's ass.

Have you ever seen a chubby cat ass? I think not.

One day, during our weekly group meeting, Sal delivered the same one-liner I (along with everyone else) had heard about a million times and I finally called him on it. As the others were chuckling politely I slammed my hand down on the table and said, quite loudly, "Oh. My. Gawd! That was funny about... oh... maybe the first hundred times you said it!" Everyone chuckled harder, which means they were all thinking the same damn thing but weren't quite ready to rally the intervention troops.

Intervention Mediator: Dude, you gotta stop repeating the same tired joke everyone's heard a million times before.
One-Liner Recycler: But I can't stop! It's just too hard!
Intervention Mediator: You know, you can come up with new material.

So anyways... I thanked Sal for his offer, but declined it. I wanted/needed the break from the computer so I went and got my own coffee. As I walk up to the coffee area I see Sal fill his coffee cup half way with coffee, then the rest of the way with hot water. Eew. I voiced my concerns for his choice of coffee flavoring:

"Eew!"

I don't know why this grossed me out - its just water for fatootin's sake - but it did. Sal said he added the water because the coffee was too black. To each his own I guess. So while I'm pouring a FULL cup of BLACK coffee, Sal mumbles something that sounds like, "The coffee's as black as Carl's bad cavern."

Uh... what???? I stop pouring before I mess myself (I'm wearing a white shirt today which means stain disasters are imminent) and ask ever eloquently, "Huh?"

He repeats himself and it still sounds like he's saying "Carl's bad cavern." Now, we work with a guy named Carl. And Sal likes to tease him often. So I figured that Sal was trying to be funny. Only I didn't get the joke. I tried to think of what 'bad cavern' could possibly be referencing, but I quickly realized that I really didn't want to know.

I chuckled and said, "I don't think I want to know what you're talking about."

Sal looked at me strangely. "About what?"

"About Carl's bad cavern."

A powerful laugh bubble bursts out of Sal, then he explains that he said Carlsbad cavern.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh. That makes a lot more sense.

"Where in the world is your mind this morning?" Sal wondered.

Uh... in Carl's bad cavern, obviously. Eew.

Of course, Sal couldn't let this one go. We were back at our cubicles for only a minute when he leans over the wall and starts talking about this 'doctors visit' where Carl got 'checked out'. He says he has a picture of it, then hands me his camera phone. For some odd reason he had a picture of a big metal drain spout with a couple of medium sized rocks sitting at the bottom of the opening. "This," he explains, "is Carl's bad cavern."

This made me giggle. I really didn't want to giggle - because it's just oh so wrong - which of course made the giggling worse. Which made Sal giggle. And the two of us have been giggling on and off for the last two hours. We just look at each other and we break out in a fit of the Silent Giggles, the kind where you make no sound but your whole upper body shakes with amusement.

Sal suggested we take a picture of a 'Carlsbad cavern' and his picture of 'Carl's bad cavern' and throw them on an email, along with the appropriate label tags, and circle it around the office. I'm sure in an hour or so when I'm not drunk on this giggle high I'll correctly realize that this would be a Very Bad Thing to do. But right now it sounds like a lot of fun.

With 14 minutes, 31 seconds to spare before core shutdown!

Would you rather...

1. have a first name that nobody can pronounce OR one nobody can remember?

I'd rather have a name that nobody could remember. I knew a girl once whose name was Kjell - pronounced shell. Nobody pronounced it right the first time. Or second or third time. I wouldn't mind a unique name like that, but I'd get tired of everyone butchering it. I'd rather they just look at me and go, 'uh… what's your name again?'

Maybe then I could get a really cool nickname that everyone would know me by. Like Pooter Magoo or something spiffy-cool like that.

2. be confined to a couch for three weeks OR wear rollerblades for three weeks straight?

My poor knees wince at the thought of wearing any mode of wheel-y transportation on my feet for more than five hours. My knees and my feet would be sore after a couple hours on rollerblades. Also sore would be my butt bone, elbows, hands, forehead, and any other part of my body that might break my fall, because it is a scientific fact that with every passing continuous hour I'm on skates my chance for Gravity Enforced Horizontalization increases exponentially. I would most definitely be falling a lot if I had to wear rollerblades for three weeks.

So park my clumsy ass on a couch for three weeks and call me Ms. Potato.

3. be the person who cleans up the elephant cages at the circus OR the person who cleans the friers at mcdonalds?

Is the Cleaning of the Micky Dee's Friers really that terrible of a job that it's listed in the same 'would you' question as cleaning elephant poo?

Even if it is, I'd much rather do that than go anywhere near a circus. I think I'd cry if I had to see how horrible those elephants are treated. Even if it was the most humane circus on the planet, it would still be horrible to look at. Caging up those wonderful creatures and carting them all over the place and forcing them to perform for people. Bleagh!

4. your poop be bright blue OR your saliva be grass green?

Smurf poop!!!!!!!!!

That's all I have to say about that one. :)

Baby's First Blog Post From School

Hey! Look at me, look at me – I'm blogging from school. Wheee! Mark it down on a calendar or post-it note or restroom stall door!

I love getting overly exciting about things that aren't really that exciting. No wait, this is exciting! I'm surrounded by my fellow academs, sitting at computers so it looks like we're doing homework/research and not emailing/surfing for naughty things! Wheee!

Not that I'm surfing, naughty or otherwise. No Sir Edwin Bob.

Is it called surfing I'm staying in one place/one site? Didn't think so. I guess you could say I'm floating more than I'm surfing.

Hehehe. I'm a floater. Hehehe.

Gawd I'm tired. Or at least I was this morning. The two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I had for lunch* did a mighty fine job of restoring my strength points. Now I'm only feeling semi-loopy.

Could you tell? No? Darn, I'll have to try harder next time.

And about those pb&j sandwiches... well... don't tell Mr. Librarian Computer Watchman Dude that's patrolling the aisles that I've got half a sandwich still in my backpack and I plan on eating somewhere in this here library. I am rebel, hear me chew!

Okay, I've got 43 minutes left before this here computer kicks me off and I still want to write up my answers for Tuesday is Chooseday. Oh, the pressure! Then I'm going to find me a nice quiet little corner of the library where I can sneak quick sandwich bites and try and finish my reading assignment for tomorrow in about an hours time (ha! so not going to happen!). Why only an hour? Because I have class at 7pm. Oh, the pressure! Good thing I finished my homework assignment that's due tonight while I was at work today or else I wouldn't have time to type this right now. :)

Lloyd Dobler can thumb through my dictionary any day.

Sometimes (okay, most times) when I'm looking up a word in the dictionary, I think about that scene in Say Anything where Lloyd sees Diane's dictionary, the one that's FULL of X's because she's marked an X next to every word she's ever looked up, and as he flips through the pages he sees that she's a major league word-looker-upper.

When I first saw this scene I thought, that is soooooo cool! I want to do that! And one day I'll be able to look back on all the words I've looked up and realize I'm that much smarter!

Sounds kind of geeky, I know, but I thought it'd be a fun game to play, just me and my pal Dic. I still think it'd be fun, especially when I'm looking up obscure words while reading my Ellery Queen novels. Those books would produce a lot of X's for my dictionary. So collecting all these X's would be fun, yes, but unnerving too, in a paranoid 'I'll-Never-Get-Elected-If-They-Find-My-Teletubby-Snuff-Film-So-I'll-Just-Burn-The-Whole-Damn-House-Down' sort of way.

It's because of this little voice of paranoia that I have yet to mark off one single looked-up word.

Because what if someone else actually sees my dictionary? *gasp* And they see what words I had to consult the dictionary for? And what if they see that I put an X next to the word 'cabbage' and they laugh at how stupid I am for not knowing such a simple word as cabbage! I'd be mortified!!!

Well, maybe not mortified, but at least slightly embarrassed. And slightly defensive, because there'd no context behind that X. The person laughing won't know that I knew what the word cabbage meant and they won't know that I was just getting clarification on all definitions of the word so that I could better understand what I was reading!

I know what your saying. Just don't put the mark next to cabbage then! But if I'm going to record what words I look up I'm not going to do it half-assed and only mark the words that make me look good. What would be the point? (And besides, what if I can't tell what words are from the Simple-As-Cabbage category! Eek!)

Now, don't y'all go thinking I don't know what the word cabbage means! It's just an example because I couldn't think of a word that I knew, in context, but wasn't quite sure of its exact meaning. I came across a few of those kinds of words this past weekend while doing my homework (which consisted of a Butt Load [highly technical form of measurement] of reading). Luckily, I had my handy dandy new dictionary by my side.

The dictionary came ceran-wrapped with the three volumes of literature anthologies I had to buy for my Brit Lit class. I didn't mind the additional cost because the last dictionary I bought is about ten years old now. Oh how good it feels to be updated on the vocab front! :)

So I have this brand new dictionary, which saw a lot of action last weekend, and as I cracked it open for the first time in order to look up my very first word of the day I thought:

Hey, I should mark an X next to each word I look up, sort of in a 'Christening The New Dictionary' fashion. It'll be my Words I Looked Up In College (Not Including Those First Three Years) dictionary. And the birds will twitter and the bunnies will frolic and the self conscious llamas will throw caution to the wind and dance around in unflattering leotards and all will be good and merry in the Land of Me.

And then I thought:

But what if I run for election one day and Access Hollywood finds my dictionary and tells everyone that I once had to look up the word 'leotard'?! I'll be the laughing stock of the political world and Murphy Brown will dump thousands of leotards on my front porch and my dreams of milking my constituents for billions of dollars will be crushed like a pair of llama nads in an undersized leotard!

So I didn't do it. Sigh. Maybe one day, when I'm old and forgetful, I'll start marking what words I look up. That way, if I come across a word I've already marked, I'll know I'll need to up my brain booster meds.

Conversations with Jabberwacky: the one where I realize I need to update my insult database.

I think the best Jabberwacky conversations I have are when I'm tired and spacey and barely coherent. Go figure.

Jabberwacky: What kind of person are you?

Ms. Loon: I'm an alive person. How about you?

Jabberwacky: You're a studen for a living?

Ms. Loon: What's a studen? Is that German for stud horse? That's a career option I haven't considered.

Jabberwacky: I know but you don't.

Ms. Loon: Oh sure, rub it in my face why don't you. There are some things I don't mind rubbed in my face, but this is not one of them.

Jabberwacky: What are the unhappy things?

Ms. Loon: Bunnies on prozac. Female reindeer pulling a sled behind Rudolph (a. K. A. The Prick Who Never Pulls Over And Asks For Directions). Smurfs with non-blue balls.

Jabberwacky: How about porcelain?

Ms. Loon: Depends on the weather.

Jabberwacky: It is early in the morning.

Ms. Loon: No its not. It's after 10!

Jabberwacky: Depends on where you are.

Ms. Loon: Oh. Yeah. Duh. Uh... Where are you? Pluto?

Jabberwacky: Never been there.

Ms. Loon: Your loss then buddy.

Jabberwacky: No it isn't.

Ms. Loon: Why not?

Jabberwacky: Are you ready to accept jesus in your heart ?

Ms. Loon: Hahahaha. Sure. I'll set him up with his own security badge and everything.

Jabberwacky: Will you tuck me in and read me a bed time story?

Ms. Loon: I charge extra for reading bed time stories.

Jabberwacky: I came in here for an argument!

Ms. Loon: 'Oh, I'm sorry, but this is Abuse.'

Jabberwacky: About damn time.

Ms. Loon: Yes it is you kinky bastard.

Jabberwacky: No more insults like that will I tolerate.

Ms. Loon: That wasn't an insult. It was a compliment, you four eyed fuzzy puss nugget. Now THAT was an insult.

Jabberwacky: Sure it was. All you think about is mocking me.

Ms. Loon: It's not all I think about. I spend a considerable amount of time daydreaming about smacking your purty AI ass.

Jabberwacky: Is that because your watch is broken?

Ms. Loon: Yes. I blame everything on my faulty watch.

Jabberwacky: Never!

Ms. Loon: Never say never unless you never plan on saying never never again.

Jabberwacky: Lets change the subject.

Ms. Loon: No, let's stop chatting. I have to go find my marbles. They went on a lunch break and never came back.

Jabberwacky: Oh... On the last train to azerbaijan? Or memphis?

Ms. Loon: No. Loonyville! (*tee hee*).

I'd like sausage and eggs and a side of giggles please.

Sal (my once again Desk Neighbor) and I were just rearranging/updating some information in the computer - a rather tricky task to be doing so early in the morning, I know, but I'm adventurous like that - when the following conversation took place:

"You need to change that description," he said.

"Why?" I asked rather grumpily. (Only four hours of sleep the previous night can do that to a girl.)

"Because I read it in a book," he said. "The book of 'I Said So'."

"BWAHahahahaha!"

When he got me to laugh at that he figured I was fair game. He started shooting one-liners at me left and right, and each one got less funnier than the one before. They still made me laugh though, because when you're tired your laughing inhibitions are lowered to the point where you'll laugh at anything. :)

And it's hard to stay grumpy when you laughing. Not that I was trying to stay grumpy or anything. I'm all about the happy perky chipmunk routine today. So yeah for the quick dose of morning giggles!

I am...

I am feeling...

...bat-shit-stir-crazy to the mutha effin max.

I am thinking...

...I really need to pee.

I am wondering...

...why my first thought was about pee instead of something more intellectually thought provoking. I must really have to pee. (Yeah, that's why. Heh)

I am smelling...

...the freshly baked garlic bread from Pat & Oscars that someone set on the desk next to mine. Mmmmm... garlic bread.

I am pondering...

...if a tree farted in the forest, and no one was around to smell it, would the beaver still be it's friend?

I am contemplating...

...starting a paperclip war with my desk neighbor.

I am doubting...

...that this day will ever end.

Covert Butt Scratching is the next Ninja Scout Merit Badge I'm aiming for.

Would you rather...

1. have the manners of a chimpanzee (fling poo, scratch butt, etc) OR have the body odor of one?

I already scratch my butt and have no problem with it. It can be quite recreational in fact. But flinging poo? It's just so messy! I think I'd rather have body odor de chimp.

2. walk like a penguin OR talk like daffy duck?

Walk like a penguin. Daffy slobbers too much. I have enough problems spitting my words out, I don't need to be spitting saliva as well.

3. eat an entire raw banana slug OR the juice from five jellyfish?

Jelly juice! I have no idea what this is, or whether its harmful or not. But at least it sounds better than eating a raw slug. Bleagh.

4. hold a live wasp in your mouth for a full minute OR have an earthworm crawl up your nose?

Like hell am I holding a live wasp in my mouth. Those fuckers sting you!

I'd rather have an earthworm crawl up my nose... well, as long as I have assurances that I can be easily extracted. I think I'd rather have a painfully swollen mouth than an earthworm setting up shop in my brain.

I are a college student. Again.

After a five year hiatus I am now officially 'going back to school'. Yeah me! I guess you could say I was officially 'going back to school' as soon as I paid for classes on Saturday, but today was my actual First Day Back In A Classroom, so now its doubly official.



I'm taking two classes at a local junior college. The World Literature class meets every Tuesday night. The Brit Lit class is during the afternoon on Mondays and Wednesdays. So on these two days I'll be coming in to work early, working four hours, leaving for three hours to go to class, then coming back to work the last four hours. I'll only be leaving work about an hour later than I normally would so its all good in the work 'hood.

That three hour break covers the 30 minutes to get to the school, 30 minutes to find a parking spot, the hour and a half class period, plus 30 minutes to drive back. This afternoon I made the grave error of not factoring in that crucial 30 minute parking lot dance time and boy did I pay for it.

Silly me forgot how crowded parking lots can be on The First Day of Classes. Oy vey was parking a bitch. The classroom I'm in is at the northern most part of the campus. Following Murphy Law Logic can you guess where I eventually had to park? Yep, that's right, I parked on the street (not even in a parking lot!) at the southern most part of the freaking campus (save for the baseball and soccer fields). I also had to park at the very end of this street, so I was on the eastern most edge of the campus as well. :(

Since I only had about 10 minutes until class started I sped walked like a mofo, a mofo I tell ya, and I did it all UPHILL! Freaking campus is built up in the freaking hills for crying out loud! Gah! At least I have a story to tell my children and grandchildren, who will be so used to hover shoes or transporters or some shit that when I talk about walking they'll look at me funny. "In my day I had to walk up a freaking hill to get to class." "Oh Granny, you so silly." This story doesn't top my father's 'walking to school' story though, for he had to walk up a hill both ways to get to school. Ouch.

So I got to class late, all huffy and puffy and stitch-in-the-side-afflicted and a different color than normal. See, if someone were to make an action figure of me it would be called Mrs. Tomato Head because with the slightest bit of exertion my face turns all red. It's always been that way, even when I've been at my utmost fittest (which I haven't been in awhile). I'm just a color-changing-white-girl-chameleon that way. I'm like that when I laugh too, which can be extremely annoying sometimes. I'll be laughing, and I'll turn red, and people will think I'm embarrassed. One particular former coworker used to love to point this out to every one (the bitch) "Oh look, she's so embarrassed she's turning red! Ha ha ha!" This made me turn even redder (exercise, laughing, imagining punching annoying coworker in face --> red face). Stupid hyper color skin.

So anyways, it was a fucking peachy way to start this whole 'Going Back To School' thing but at least the rest of the day has gone pretty well. Except for when I had to walk all the way back to my car, a trek that took almost fifteen minutes. Fifteen freaking minutes! This would have been fine if I had the time to take a leisurely stroll across campus, but my schedule's too tight for that. Bummer.

At least I know now that I have to leave a half hour earlier on Wednesday. I hope that's enough time to find something descent. I wouldn't a little bit of walking, I just don't want to hike in from BFE.

I think I'll pack some running sneakers and shorts just to be on the safe side.

And tomorrow, for my night class, I think I'll head over straight from work, circle the parking lot until I get prime front row parking a mere ten steps away from the classroom building, then chill in the bookstore for a couple of hours, sniffing pencils and rubbing up against the spiffy looking notebooks.

Does drinking fancy water make me fancy by association? Because nothing else will dammit!

1) people can be so mean to their kitty cats. (teehee)

(link via tj)

2) I'm drinking very hoity-toity water right now. It's Acqua Panna and it comes, as the label reads, "From the Hills of Tuscany". Pretty freaking wow, eh? Yeah, that's what I thought. I was expecting it, the water, to taste... oh I don't know... foreign. Or somehow better... richer... tastier. It tastes good, nice and crisp and very quenching, but it also tastes pretty much like a lot of other bottled waters I've drank. (Except for the brand that rhymes with Peefina. That shit is just nasty. Bleagh.)

But even though it doesn't taste particularly fancy, I still feel fancy drinking it. Because come on! It's from the 'hills of Tuscany' and I've never been anywhere near Tuscany! If I can't go to Tuscany, I'll drink its water and dream.

And no, I didn't go out of my way and actually pay a fancy amount of money for fancy water in a fancy looking bottle from a fancy little foreign town with fancy little hills. I'm not that kind of girl.

It's a, how you say, work perk. ;)

Other companies might give away hundred dollar bonus and prizes for showing up every other Tuesday and coveted covered parking spots to Employees of the Month but at my company I get free water.

Score!

Maybe when I get up to a hundred I'll finally cave

Reason #62 why I want a camera phone: on my way to work today, while I was stopped at a red light, I was looking at the car in front of me and noticed that his 'hey look at me I'm so patriotic I've got a big fucking ribbon sticker on my car' was not red/white/blue or yellow, like those stickers normally are. So I looked closer and saw that his black and green ribbon sticker read as such: SUPPORT ROAD HEAD. As incredibly high as this ranks on the male bs meter, it made me laugh out loud. And it made me wish I had a camera handy to record the view for posterity.

Reason #61 came into existence while we were waiting for the Barry Manilow concert to start. The place was packed, we were all in our seats, counting down the seconds, and disco music was playing over the speakers. At the top of the hour the show hadn't started. The natives were getting restless. Then a particularly groovething-shaking song came on which inspired one of the ladies a few rows in front of us (who was there with about ten of her girlfriends) to stand up and boogie. And boy could she boogie! She was fantastic! All kinds of people around us started pulling out their cameras (both cell and non cell) and I wished for the umpteenth time that I had a camera phone. One of these days I'll get one. Just as soon as I'm offered a free one. :) Either that or I need to talk Santa into giving me a tiny little super powerful digital camera that I can slip into my pocket like a cell phone for xmas. Oh Santa baby...

Potential eyeball revolt and brain mutiny, evil dashes with hidden agendas, and morons on conference calls. In other words, just another day at work.

I'm trying to decide between several options today:

Option A) Work on cleaning up a backlog of work in the system. It's not a pressing issue, yet. But it annoys me. Immensely. I can't do what I'd like to be doing in the system until I'm caught up.

Some days it feels like I'll never be caught up. With anything. At work. Outside of work. I'm just a hamster speed walking on the wheel of life, not going anywhere, and not having any pretty scenery to get distracted by in the processes. I can see the end goal. I know what it looks like, all shiny and sparkly and spangly and lit up with green and pink neon lights. I know what the end goal looks like. And it looks as far away as ever. Because as fast as I go, the wheel just keeps on spinning in the same pile of hamster shit...

Damn. That sounds kind of depressing. Sigh. Don't mind me. Just having a small case of poor-me-itis. I'll take a shot of penichillin' and everything will be fine. No, not fine. Fantabulous!

Because as the old saying goes... slow and steady baby steps wins the race for the unfortunate early worm who's not crafty enough to avoid hungry predators. Or something like that.

Option B) Plot my revenge against the evil Dr. Dash

See, here at work, there's this software we use to record things and order things and yadda yadda yadda. I am the administrator of said software. Not because I'm supa smaht or anything (which I am, but that's beside the point) but because I've worked on it longer than anyone else in my group. (Except for Old Guy Ken - who probably wouldn't appreciate me calling him Old Guy, but the only other nickname I can think of for him is Guy Who Likes To Marry A Lot [he's on number five at the moment]). So I'm the administrator of this really sucky program. And I don't use that term loosely.

The program's been crapping out on us a lot lately. It does weird things that don't make sense, that its never done before. It screws things up and it... well, it’s just a big pain in the ass. We'll be in a meeting, and someone will complain about something the program is doing, and they'll ask the eternal question, 'why is it doing this?' and I, as the administrator, step in duteously and say, with all the authority that my title and expertise affords me:

"Because its retarded."

That is truly the only answer one can give without getting all technical and shit about faulty programming (and since I'm not a programmer or software designer the technical shit is not a part of my vocabulary). The latest problem with the program is really a nonproblem. But its vexing the hell out of me nonetheless.

A dash keeps appearing as a record in one of the lookup tables. So I delete it. Sometime later (anywhere between an hour to several days) it reappears. So I delete it. Hence the continuance of La Cycle De Viscous. When the dash appears in other tables, there's usually a reason, and it usually screws everything up. In this particular case, its not doing anything. Well, other than taunting me with its flagrant dashiness that is.

Bastard.

I've started a log. An "Evil Dash Log". And so far, according to log records, I've deleted the dash record 4 times in the last three hours. I think that means there's something seriously wrong with the system. And, for the record, I'd like to state that IT'S NOT MY FAULT.

When I complained about the dash to the HB a couple of weeks ago (yes, its been a problem for awhile now) he told me I should leave it alone, because obviously the system wants it there, and deleting it might not be the best thing to do. I see the logic in that. I do. But I want that damn dash to die! Die die die!

Option C) Work on some cubicle art.

The latest addiction to my cubicle wall is a calendar of sorts. It lists the days of the week, from Sunday to Saturday, along with the corresponding... uh... thing that everyone is working on. To class it up a bit I sprinkled some Dilbert characters around the sides. Because the longer I work here, the funnier Dilbert gets.

The Boss's Boss saw it, and liked it, and asked me to email him a copy. I said an enthusiastic sure with prideful giddiness. Then I thought, crap, I hope he doesn't think I spent actually company time making this. Did he ask me to send him a copy to keep as evidence? It's crap evidence, really, because I can just say I made it at home. (All real evidence to the contrary has now been deleted).

Former Desk Neighbor Sal is now my desk neighbor again, sitting in the little cubicle station behind me. Yesterday he suggested I make a little sign that says "When in doubt... hit delete!" We have so much junk in our system, so many bad records, that it would be easier to wipe everything out and just start over. Most of the people in my group that are in the trenches, those doing the clean up, feel that this is a sound course of action. But our boss doesn't see it that way. Sigh. So we didn't do a batch wipe out clean out start from scratch and do it right this time. (The guy who set this system up years ago totally screwed us over in this never ending battle - but it is getting better at least.)

So I asked Sal a question, what should we do about this problem with this thing, and his answer was: When in doubt... hit delete! It doesn't rhyme, but its still pretty catchy. It's been a favorite phrase of mine for the last couple of months when dealing with this system.

So I want to make up a little something with the above work slogan (or a similar but catchier slogan), including a picture of keyboard delete key, so I can add it to my cubicle and chuckle at the brilliance of it all.

Option D) Go to the meeting scheduled in five minutes.

I think I'll go with Option D. For now. Then I'll do Option A until either my eyes bug out on me or my brain mutinies. Then I'll play around with Option C. And then maybe I'll get to all the other stuff I have to do. Because Option C, of course, is a must do. Naturally. :)


Actually, I just got done with Option D (I wasn't fast enough and couldn't post before everyone came to my desk for the conference call.) The call was so painfully long and boring and frustratingly filled with morons that it was actually quite fun. In a twisted workplace sort of way.

For instance, at one point during the call, the Leader of the Call asked for progress updates from all the facilities. I told Zack, who was sitting right next to me, while the phone was on 'mute', that we were about 80 to 85 percent done in this particular area, which he conveniently didn't hear. When it was our turn to chime in, I got phone shy, which was accompanied by a case of the quiet giggles, so Zack chimed in for us and said, "We're a hundred percent done!" This was followed by a 'Way to go!' from our boss and an 'All right!' from Call Leader Guy. After he muted the phone again I laughed and said, "I can't believe you just lied to make us look better." This horrified him. It truly did. Which in turn amused me. For some silly reason he thought I'd said we were all done. "Well, with part of it we are," I said. "It's just this other part that's tricky. I think we're all done. But I'm not sure." Next time I told him to say "I believe we're all done". Like a few other people on the call did. That way its not a flat out "100%" lie.

But at least his answer was better than my nonanswer silent giggle. This conference call, combined with a lack of consumed lunch, made me incredibly "slap happy".

Now I must go find something to eat before I giggle myself into a coma.

I'm feeling the frustrations of a thousand goats.

I have no idea what the above post title means. The guy sitting behind me said it a moment ago and it made me giggle. Because I'm losing my mind.

Because bzz bzz bzz I'm a busy little bee today. Just like yesterday. Sigh.

I'd love to write about this weekend, about how much fun I had in Las Vegas, about how much I love hanging out with my family, about how I laughed until I hurt (on several occasions), about how much money I lost, about the celebrity I saw ("How come you always see the celebrities and I don't?!" said my mom as I gloated) and about how wonderfully awesome Barry Manilow is. I'd like to write about it all, but I just don't have the time right now. Hopefully I'll get around to it later in the week, even if it is just a rundown of highlights.

But for now I'm busy playing a bit of catch up at work. Which is hard to do since the boss's boss has a new project for me to work on because it's taken priority over the Must Be Done Now's and the Should Have Been Done Last Friday's. When the boss's boss asked me when I could have this thing ready for him I went and told him the truth. Silly me. Didn't pad it with an extra day or anything. Sheesh. I really need to be work on my Quick Lie To The Boss reflexes.

While I've got a hundred different work related Things To Do floating around in my head, fighting for dominance ("Do me first!" "No! Do me first!") I've got a bunch of other stuff bounce-house bouncing around in the brain. This 'other stuff' is school related. After a... *tries to do complicated math after long brain-draining day* more than a couple of years hiatus from college, I'm finally jumping back on the wagon in the saddle. Go me!

Only thing is, I just had to go and get this 'hey, I want to go to this school and major in this subject and I want to start right now!' kind of epiphany at the last minute. So I'm up against some deadlines. And its stressing me out juuuuust a wee bit.

One thing that's got me worried are these Personal Statement questions I have to answer on my application. Because I don't know what to write about! Well, I do have a few ideas... I just want to make sure my answers are really, really good, you know? Because what if it comes down to me and some other person and we both have excellent transcripts and we both want to major in an English related field but I'm the one with the worstest grammar? I'm good at writing bullshit answers though, I should be able to manage. Yeah, I know, I'll manage just fine. Just as soon as I sit my ass down and do it. :) (Which will be tonight, no matter how long it takes me!)

Her name was Lisa, she was a slots girl

A couple of weekends ago my mom called me from the beach, mainly to rub it in that she was at the beach and I was not, but also to talk about this upcoming Vegas trip (which starts officially for me at noon today!). She got offered two free rooms at the Hilton in Las Vegas for three nights. Sweeeeet. And since my brother moved to Las Vegas just two weeks ago we figured the free rooms would be a good excuse to go see him. And the cousin he's moved in with.

And Barry Manilow.

That's right. I'm going to see Barry Manilow in concert bay-bee! Woo!

My mom is really excited about seeing him. She loves Barry and he's the only one left on her List Of People To See Before I (Or They) Die. She saw Neil Diamond (who was on her list) a couple of years ago. (A fact which I'm still slightly bitter about, since her and the rest of my family waited until I had gone off to college so they could go without even bothering to invite me! Ratfinks. The whole lot of them!) She's also seen Elvis (another from her list) be she saw him a long time ago (which makes sense, since he died a long time ago, heh.)

As we talked, she realized there were actually three people still on her List. Another person that's a Must See for her is Don Rickles. I love watching the Dean Martin Roast infomercials mainly because of him, so I'd love to see him perform as well. Since he's in Las Vegas a lot, maybe we'll see him one of the nights we're not seeing Barry. (*squeeeee*)

Also on my mom's list is Paul McCartney. I couldn't care less about seeing him in concert, but then I never had a little girl crush on him like my mom did 'back in the day'. She still has her first ever Beatles album. The cover of which is covered in little girl doodles and lovey-dovey swirls and curlicues and sweet nothings scribbled all over Paul's face. And John's face. And George's face too. Ringo's face's graffiti wasn't so flattering :) But I digress...

So there are three people still on my mom's List, and the Big One is Barry Manilow. We have tickets to see him... Saturday night I think. They're not great tickets, since we bought them at the last minute. Mom was trying to plan this weekend around mine and the HB's schedule, along with another cousin and his wife's hospital intern schedule. Unfortunately, I don't think the cousin and his wife will be joining us. Bummer.

But more Barry Manilow for me then! Yeah!



Holy butterflies Batman I can't wait! I don't have a List of people I Must See, but I'm certainly looking forward to seeing Barry Manilow perform. He does, after all, write the songs that make the whole world sing :) :)

But first there's work. There's a conference call/sql training class I want to be in on at 11:00 am, and then at noon, even if the call is running long, I'm packing my shit up, turning everything off, then running out of here like a bat out of a Meat Loaf concert (I think I'd actually like to go to a Meat Loaf concert one day... )

The plan is this: get home at 12:30pm, get on the road no later than 1:00pm (and I still have to pack, eek!), and get to Las Vegas around 5:00pm. That time is based on leaving at 1, encountering moderate traffic, and one mini potty break, so I told my mom 'we'll be there around 6, give or take an hour.' Hopefully we get there early enough because we're going over to my cousin's house for dinner. After that, my only plans are to see Barry and win enough money to pay for my return trip to college. I'll settle for breaking even. The guys plan to play golf one day, which a true testament to the idiocy of men, and golfers, for wanting to whack balls with sticks in the godawful desert heat. Bleagh.

I know the HB doesn't plan to gamble much, because he doesn't have much to gamble with. If it was next week he'd be all over the poker tables, but this week hit him with a lot of bills. Darn it. I was hoping to ditch him and gamble with my mom. :) I win more when I gamble with her and almost always loose when I gamble with him. Though, come to think of it, the most I ever won (couple hundred) was with the HB... but that was my first time in Vegas (we were at State Line actually) so I attribute that win to Beginner's Luck, not Boyfriend Luck Vibes. Hopefully I win a enough to spot him a few hands. I'll be his sugar momma!

The HB has to work Sunday afternoon, so after a late night of partying hardy at the Manilow concert we'll be waking up early Sunday morning to drive back home. Hopefully I'll win enough to be the HB's sugar momma, pay for college, and a brand new jet to fly us all home. Yeah, that's what I'm setting my sites for. Because if you're going to dream, big.

Bright light city gonna set my soul, gonna set my soul on fire!

(Oooh! Note to Self: remember to bring Elvis CD for long car ride.)

I'll be wearing my finest pipe-cleaner wig and all-leather superhero suit to the Annoying Celebrity Charity Dinner.

Would you rather...

1. have skin that feels like clay pottery OR hair that feels like pipe cleaners?

If my hair behaved like pipe cleaners I'd soooooo pick that option. But to just feel like pipe cleaners?

No. Thank. You.

The rough skin would be more tolerable than trying to fall asleep on a pile of pipe cleaners.

2. eat only food grown within 10 miles of an active nuclear facility OR only raw/uncooked food?

Eat food grown near a nuclear facility. I've always wanted to have super mutant powers.

Like having the ability to shoot pennies from the palm of my hand like Spiderman shoots his web. Because not only could I disable the bad guy(s) with my little Shooting Discs of Death, but I'd be leaving behind something for people to pick up and all day long they'd have good luck. That would be mighty spiffy.

3. have dinner with mike tyson OR dinner with paris hilton?

I'd rather have dinner with Paris. I believe she is the lesser of two evils. Unless she's bitten someone's ear off before and I just don't know about it.

4. wear rubber clothes over your regular clothes OR nothing but leather?

If it was wear 'nothing but rubber' I might consider it. But rubber over my clothes?

How tacky!

Now, as much as I'd consider the 'nuttin but rubba' outfit, I'd still choose to wear nothing but leather. It would help me segue into my next phase of life - the one where I do a one-woman-broadway-show as Lixie Dixie the Hula Hooping Dominatrix Juggler.

About my optimism regarding my impending win at Blingo

I haven't won anything from the internet in awhile so I think I'm due. Sophomore year in college... (which was what? about 7 years ago?)... I won two different contests (the kind that you find by clicking on banner ads).

The first thing I won was a monthly movie poster giveaway (that I'd played for several months before actually winning). I won three movie posters from indie films I'd never heard of before, but at least I got to pick which three they were.

I picked the first poster because it was covered in cartoon drawings (more anime looking than Disney) and I love most things cartoonish (I say most because there's some freaky deaky cartoons out there that don't really float my boat). I can't remember the name of the film, and perusing through the movie poster site wasn't any help, so I'll have to find the poster (which is rolled up with all my other posters in some closet somewhere in my apartment) when I get home, because now I'm really curious.

The second poster I picked was from the movie Dream With The Fishes.

I picked this poster because it had two of my favorite things in the title (dreaming and fishies). It also had an awesome tagline ("An oddball odyssey about voyeurism, LSD and nude bowling!") at the bottom (which for some reason isn't featured in this picture.)

The third poster I picked was from the movie Hugo Pool.

I chose this poster because it featured a girl (which I am) wearing a bathing suit and goggles (which had been my sports 'uniform' for many years, and still was, at the time). Plus, it had the word 'pool' in the title, and I was on a swim team which meant I was at the pool constantly (or so it felt at times), so I thought hey, I swim in a pool and I'm a girl and have multiple pairs of goggles! It's perfect!

This last poster was a favorite among my male roommates (because what guy (that likes to look at girls) doesn't like looking at Alyssa Milano). But really, all three posters were pretty bitchin'.

Unfortunately though, I chose these three posters without first seeing this poster for Latin Boys Go To Hell. I either unfathomably missed it the first few months I entered the contest or it was offered only after I'd won. Figures, don't it? I tried to win the contest again, to win some slightly naughty looking posters with nekkid guys on them, but to no avail. Bummer that.

But my contest luck didn't fade away completely. It merely shifted from movie posters to actual movies.

The second thing I won from an internet contest was a copy of Caddyshack. This was a cool prize because I love that movie. ("I smell varmint poontang..."). While my brother prefers to emulate Happy Gilmore's run-up-to-the-ball-and-swing technique when playing golf, I prefer to emulate Chevy's zen approach. :) Boy, it sure is fun to play golf with my brother. Especially when he gets mad and throws his clubs in the trees. Because its only then that can I beat him. :)

So anyways, I won these prizes within months of each other and thought the internet was the best thing since assless chaps! When I told my mom about the second prize she said, "since your so lucky why don't you try and win a car." And I thought, Well duh! Home come I hadn't thought about that?

Actually, the first thing she said was something I'd heard many times before. "I never win anything. Well, I did win that field trip in elementary school... but it got canceled. And I did win that set of steak knives at the fair... but they never got delivered. So those doesn't count. *big hearty 'poor me' sigh* I never win anything."

I said the appropriate ahhh-poor-baby's and a few life-just-ain't-fair's but I couldn't really relate. Because I'd won prizes before the movie posters, and a prize is a prize no matter how low on the Awesome Scale they are.

When I was little I won a raffle at a swim meet. My prize? Applesauce. A freaking jar of applesauce. What kind of a stupid-ass prize is that for a raffle?! I could have won a cool toy or a big pool-floatie-seat-thingy or a gift certificate to some fancy restaurant. But nooooo. I won a jar of applesauce instead. But hey, at least I like applesauce, right? Could have been a jar of lima beans or something. Bleagh.

This other time (when I was about 10 yrs old) I won a big Mickey Mouse doll. It was a nice doll and all, but I could have won some serious prizes! We were at Disneyland, and there was a huge anniversary celebration going on, and when you walked in through the turnstiles they handed out tickets, of which random ones were prize winners. Mine was a winner so I got to go up on this big fancy stage thing in front of all these people and pull this big lever. Fun stuff! Some guy with a microphone was on stage with me, but I had no idea what he was saying for after I pulled the lever I was too busy watching the different prizes light up in a circle, going around and around until the light slowed down, eventually landing on my prize.

Now, I could have won a car for crimeny's sake. I could have won a couple thousand dollars in stocks or bonds or something (I was about ten years old at the time and had no sense of money, but I knew the picture of all those stacks of money meant the prize was worth A LOT). There were some other really heavy prizes listed on that board, plus some cheesy lame ass prizes like Mickey dolls.

So I'm standing there, getting down right dizzy at the thought that I could actually win a car. Or money! I was picturing the car in my parents driveway, just sitting there, waiting for me to be old enough to get my license. I figured I'd be nice and let my parents drive it in the mean time and...

Then the freaking light stops on 'Plush Doll'. WTF???!!! What a rip off!!!

I think it was rigged. Seriously. Someone with their finger on the stop button somewhere saw how young I was and figured I'd rather have a dolly.

Bastards.

So where was I? Oh yeah... so I took my mom's advice and tried to win a car. I couldn't believe I was only entering small-potato contests when there were some main courses out there for me and my lucky streak to devour. I entered every dang car-give-away contest I could find (and there were many).

And that's when I got introduced to the wonderful world of email spam. And I thought the internet was the worst thing since in Howard Stern in ass-less chaps.

I haven't won a prize sense.

*big hearty 'poor me' sigh*

But, fortunately, I won't be able to say that for long. 1) because I'm going to win at Blingo any day now and 2) I'm leaving for Las Vegas on Thursday. And I'm feeling lucky. I wouldn't mind winning a car while I'm there. Or anything else that's more expensive than a doll or movie poster or jar of applesauce that I can exchange for heaps of cash. :)