Me? Paranoid? Why that's just sil... Wait, who told you that???

Got my car back on Saturday.

Yeah!

After I shelled out 600 bucks, that is.

Bummer!

And yes, I know it could have been worse. That was my favorite mantra of the day actually.

It could have been worse, it could have been worse...

Good news is the car only turned itself off once before I got home! Even better news is I wasn't driving at the time; I'd made a stop along the way.

I was so excited at once again having that sense of freedom that is attached to owning a working car that I felt like making a stop at the drug store for a much-needed stick of deodorant. You know when you can see the plastic bottom of the deodorant tube more than you can see deodorant. I was there. I could have made due for about... oh... another day. Then I would have been reduced to using the HB's deodorant. But by then, of course, he would have been back in town and I could have asked for a ride to the store. It didn't matter either way, because I had my car back! Wheeee!

So after my drugstore pit (heh) stop, I turned the car on, already thinking about where I was going to go next. Five seconds later, the car shut itself off. I was too shocked to utter even the simplest of curses. I turned the car on again, and when I felt it try to die on me again I pushed on the gas and said, "don't you even think about it you little beyotch." Whether it was the gas or the epitaph that worked, I don't know. I'd like to think that they were both persuasive.

I made one more stop that day (for groceries) and the car was still a little shaking on its feet. So I took it home and decided to give it a little rest. A little R and R for the loon-mobile. When the HB got home the next day from his family drama outing we decided to take my car for a fast food run. And the car started up beautifully, as if it hadn't had any inkling of a problem whatsoever, just like use to before making me a nervous driving wreck.

So the car works. Yeah! But I'm going to be paranoid for a couple of weeks now, wondering what every little sound or movement from my car means. Is that normal? Has it always made that sound? I can't help it. I'm like that every time something happens to my car.

In The Ongoing Saga of Woman Versus Machine...

Guess what's not working for me now.

My car.

Oh yeah, that's right. My fucking car doesn't work!

Arrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhh!!!!

My car keeps overheating because some electrical switch isn't turning on.

It's not the tires that are giving me grief (though I was late to work Tuesday because one was flat, the little bastard). It's not the seatbelt or the hood or the left taillight cover (which, note to self, hasn't magically fixed itself and still needs to be replaced). What's broken is electrical. As in the little computer in my car is wonky and refused to work like its supposed to.

It's a goddamn technological conspiracy I tell ya!

To be honest, I don't exactly what's wrong with my car yet. All I know is this: Wednesday, while I was driving to school after work, during the most congested part of the freeway, smoke started pouring out from underneath the hood of my car and the temperature gauge jumped from cold to PULL OVER RIGHT NOW BEFORE YOU EXPLODE YOUR SO HOT!

And I was just one exit away from school too. If the freeway traffic wasn't so bad I could have made it to school and gone to class while the HB checked out my car. As it was I missed class, which, on top of my car dying, really bummed me out. I truly honestly hate missing class. It gives me a strong case of the anxiously jittery butterflies. I also missed class yesterday, which was Quiz Day, and bye-bye to that chunk of my grade because the quizzes can't be made up. Sigh.

I dropped the car off at Midas yesterday morning with the HB. Last night, when the HB was checking out the car, nothing seemed to be leaking, and we could see what had been smoking. The only thing he noticed was that the fan never turned on to cool the engine down. He figured it was some kind of thermal switch (or whatever its called.) When I called in sick to work (car sickness) I talked to my Desk Neighbor, told him the symptoms, and he said it sounded like the same problem. So of course, when we dropped the car off we said, 'hey its probably that therma-switchy-thingy.' Only the HB said it and said it in a more manly technical way.

I got a call later from the Midas guy, he said they ran some tests, found a couple things that were broken, and asked if I would like them to be fixed. I repeated the items to the HB and he didn't say, 'hey, that shouldn't be replaced" so I said sure, fix 'em. I was flustered at the time, because I was in the middle of signing paperwork for my car rental, and I know the things he mentioned had the word "thermal" in them, so I thought they were on the right track and... well, I'm dumb and didn't think to question it. Couple hours later I get another call saying the car is still over heating, and they're going to need to run more tests. Great! I called the HB (who had left town in the middle of the day due to Major Family Drama) and he said... well I can't remember what he said. But he mentioned something about how they should have replaced the therma-switchy-thingy. Oh yeah, the switch thingy. Now you remind me.

I called Midas Guy back, made sure he wasn't going to charge me for the tests ("Oh, of course not!") and then I said, "You know, I've mentioned the car's symptoms to a few people and they think its the therma-switchy-thingy and we mentioned that to you when we dropped the car off so have you by any chance checked to see if that's broken." To which Midas Guy replied: "That's what we're testing now. The switches."

"Gee, that's swell you little fuck nugget, but you could have tested that BEFORE you replaced a hundred dollars worth of parts!"

I didn't say that, but I wanted to. I guess its my own fault for being stupid and trusting that just because they're part of a chain of repair shops instead of Joe Blow's Ole Fix It Shoppe they wouldn't screw me over. Bastards. Now I'm wondering if the pump he said was ready to burst on me was really all that bad. I'm a girl, so I'm sure I look like a sucker to them, but that's why I brought a man with me, a man who wouldn't get a glazed blank look in his eyes when you mentioned something mechanical or car related to him.

So it's nine o'clock and still no phone call about whether or not it was the therma-switchy-thingy that needed to be replaced or not. Maybe it is. Maybe its not. I'll find out soon. I hope. In the mean time I've got a rental car to get me to and from work and school. It's costing money, sure, and I could just play hooky for another day, but it would drive me crazy to do so. So I'll be driving a rental instead. A rental, by the way, that looks a LOT fancier than my P.O.S. smurf mobile.

Sigh.

So who wants to take bets on what the next piece of technology will be that takes a crap all over my happy parade?

Cleaning is fun!

It takes me forever to clean my room. Always has, always will, because I will always have the OohOohShinyPebble! distraction gene. I'll be tidying up like a good little picker-upper-putter-awayer and before long I'll come across something I haven't seen in years. (Or even just months - I'm easily amused.)

When I find this Long Forgotten Item, one I'm particularly fond of for one reason or another (because not all the junk I keep is uber-riveting when I'm in Cleaning Mode) I'll think, "gosh, I haven't seen this in, like, forever!" and will feel this overwhelming compulsion to Stop Everything and devote all energies to the act of reminiscing.

The item could be any number of things: a toy (like the little fishy magnet travel game that I will most definitely HAVE to play with EVERY time I see it), a diary, a school project that I totally kicked ass on (like the movie poster I made in the 8th grade - genius!), a ticket stub, jewelry, a book, etc.

One of the freakiest things I ever found was an old dream journal. That, in its self, isn't so freaky. It was actually kind of neat to reread about some of the dreams I'd had ("Oh yeah, I remember that dream!"). The freaky part came when I came across an entry about a dream that I did not remember having at all. It was the longest entry and the most detailed description of any dream out of the whole damn dream journal and I couldn't remember dreaming it. I read the entry a few times and nothing felt familiar about it. It was as if someone else had written the entry - and written it in my sloppy handwriting!

Maybe that doesn't sound so weird. All I know is that when I read that journal entry a very surreal feeling settled around me like I'd just slipped into an alternate dimension.

Anywhoo... I've been "cleaning my room" here at work the last couple of days. One reason is because I'm being relocated due to this Big Fancy Construction Project that's about to get underway. I don't want to box up and move stuff I no longer want (i.e. a bunch of prints outs and paperwork that when stacked in a big pile was almost six inches high - because I suffer from packratitus that makes me think I might one day need something that I will never in a million years actually ever need). Another reason is because my computer has been rebelling (see previous post) so I haven't had much else to do.

Today though, I've been able to go through some old computer files of mine in order to organize the clutter a bit. I've found a couple personal files that I've saved over the last year or so that I really need to get rid of. The thought behind this being: "hey, if I get fired tomorrow and don't have time to delete these things I'm going to be really embarrassed to think that someone might actually read this shit." Not that I have naughty stuff on my computer, mind you, it's just that some of its random thoughts and half written musings and the like. I don't want anyone reading those things until I've given it my stamp of approval that it's ready to be released into the wild.

Among these personal files I found a file (which was the inspiration behind long 'OohOohShinyPebble!' post) containing code for two internet quizzes I took many moons ago and for some reason didn't have time to post. Or maybe I did post them and just don't remember it (I highly likely possibility). After typing all this up I just don't have time to find out, so with out further ado...


Which File Extension are You?

Executes flawlessly and is useful to all? Guess I should go update the ol' resumé.



Which Nigerian spammer are You?

Dude, if you can get me just one of those millions you can keep more than 20%. I ain't greedy. :)

A List of Grievances (To Be Used At The Insanity Trial)

A.K.A. Reasons Why Technology Can Byte Me Kiss My Mutha Effin Non-technical Ass.

That's right Technology. Kiss it!

Last week, Wednesday to be precise, I was in the middle of a big project when the Blue Screen Of Death appeared. It said:

"You're screwed! Wheeee!"

Actually, it told me my computer was taking a "memory dump", which, really, is just techno-jargon that means the same thing but sounds fancier so as not to totally kill any hope I have at a future relationship with my computer. (And we were so planning on eloping this summer.)

I turned my laptop off, waited a couple of minutes, then tried to turn it back on. The lights blinked, the sound of its little laptop engine purred to life and then... then it made one of the most pitiful sounds a computer could make. It whined a quick little death sigh and it shut itself off. I counted to fifty, with the calm, zen-like quality of a cat in the crosshairs of a high-powered sprinkler, and tried to turn the laptop on again.

Nothing. Nada. El zippo. So I called the Help Desk. The girl that answered my call suggested that I hold down the power button "for five whole seconds." After that didn't work (surprisingly enough), she passed me on to someone else because that was, apparently, the extent of her computer knowledge.

The next guy had me try several things, though none of them worked either. I was going to have to send it in for repair. Oh joy. But as he was typing up his email to set the request in motion I tried to turn it on just one more time. And it suddenly started to work. Problem solved?

Far from it. As it turns out, my computer was trying to overdose on laxatives, taking dumps more and more frequently over the next couple of days. So much so that on Friday I could barely get an hour's worth of work done before it took a dump and rebooted. It was, to say the least, VERY FRUSTRATING.

Yesterday though, yesterday was the day that technology declared war on me. And I have no idea what I did to deserve it.

Problem #1:
My laptop turned on easily enough, but it didn't stay on for more than ten minutes before it started doing a continuous reboot routine. On the fifth reboot I said, "screw it!", shut the dumb thing off, and hooked up my old desktop computer. (Which I never properly got rid of and was still sitting on my desk - long story). With my desk resituated, I turned the desktop on, and it stayed on. I was about ready to kiss the screen until...

Problem #2:
I couldn't access the network. Well, I could access my email, but not the internet or the database that I primarily work out of.

Swell!

Access was a bit spotty for everyone concerning some program or another, so it wasn't a total Crap Only On Lisa Day. I thought, 'hey, at least I'll be able to fill out the New PC Request form and email it to the proper people.' Which was a happy thought until...

Problem #3:
... I got an error email saying that the servers were done nationwide and the email service channels were "congested" and my email request was undeliverable.

Yeah!

And they wouldn't process the request without the properly filled out forms of course. Grrrrrr. Since I couldn't do anything with the computer that worked, I went to another computer. The guy working there looked up some figures I needed then hit the print button. I decided I'd work without the frelling computers for a bit...

Problem #4:
...but then the printer took up the fight against me. The printer was working fine all morning and didn't bother to get finicky until I needed something. First there was a paper jam. Then the guy couldn't cancel the print job, which wasn't printing because its status was ERROR, so when he hit the print button again the new print job queued up behind the ERROR print job which wasn't going anywhere because it was TAUNTING me. Bastard. I finally got the print outs about an hour later.

Oh, and get this, since I couldn't access what I needed on this computer I decided to work on some old Excel file. Seemed harmless enough, sure, but...

Problem #5:
... when I hit the Print Preview button a Fatal Error message popped up and Excel crashed to a bloody screeching halt and I could no longer access the file I was working on. I had to reboot the computer (for what seemed like the gabillionth time that day.)

So my laptop was out of commission, I couldn't access the network, the printer refused to print for me, and excel took exception to me peeking under its print preview skirt. Not a good techno day for me. I'm really surprised a superior never came by to chastise me about the excessive use of profanities in such a proper work environment, because let me tell you something, I was cursing the living daylights out of my computers.

Today, the war continues...

Woman vs. Machine

Lisa vs. The Office Equipment

... and so far, I've been on the losing end of the techno stick.

I've been working on the old computer, in excel again, and while I haven't seen a Fatal Error Message, I have seen the Blue Screen of Death three times already. Now I remember why I ditched the desktop for the newer and fancier laptop.

Sigh.

Maybe I'll just play solitaire all day. Or better yet, sneak off somewhere and do some homework. Because really, I think someone somewhere is trying to tell me something. Like: "Stop working on the computer before the monitor explodes and kills you!"

I gotta have it, really need it to get by... Sugarhigh

The biggest, most decedent looking cupcakes I've ever seen are sitting on the desk in front of me. If I had a camera I'd post a picture here so you could see how yummy they look and you would feel ever so sorry for me for working in such a cruel environment*. But if I did post a picture you'd probably die from dehydration due to Mass Quantities of Droolage so maybe it's a good thing I don't have a camera after all.

Of the 24 cupcakes that came in the box only three are left. Every time someone comes by, eyes glazed and mouth agape in childlike reverence of the All Mighty Cupcake, they ask the following questions, in the following order:

a) Who brought these?

As one coworker commented, "Who the hell cares! They're cupcakes!"

b) Why? What's the occasion?

Another coworker was quick to reprimand the girl who asked that question. "Don't question it silly! You'll anger the Cupcake Gods!"

After being asked this question several times myself, as though, since they are on my desk I must be the Knower of All Things Cupcake-y, I started answering with the most brutally honest answer I could come up with.

"Because I'm awesome and every day is Lisa Day."

c) Which one should I take?

This was, indeed, a very hard choice to make. Some had a chocolate bottom while others had... well, I didn't sample all of them (as incredibly tempting as it might have been) so all I know is that they were non-chocolate. As in plain old white cake. (So maybe banana/carrot/strawberry flavored?)

A quarter of them (6 total) had white frosting, coconut sprinkles and cherries. Another quarter had chocolate frosting and cherries. Another quarter had what looked like cream cheese frosting with walnut sprinkles (which looked really good.) But the last quarter of cupcakes, with the chocolate brownie cake underneath, had caramel coconut frosting, and I just couldn't resist grabbing one.

Because ohmygod its chocolate with cocounut frosting for crying out loud! No matter how good the chocolate/coconut combo is (and it is goooood) I've only been able to nibble at it for the last hour or so, taking swipes of coconut frosting every few minutes. If I tried to consume it any faster I'd go into sugar shock. I'm even getting high off the sweet sugar fumes because it is just that sweet.

So while I've been nursing this cupcake, totally satisfied with its delicious cupcakeness, I've been eyeing the one cream cheese frosting cupcake left behind by the cupcake scavengers. And I was thinking, as overloaded on sugar as I am now, if no one claims it in a couple of hours I just might have to grab it and give it a pity bite. Because no one, lest of all cupcakes, like to be picked last. So when people have asked, "Which one?" I point them to that one and beg them to take it away from me lest I seriously try and eat it later.

Not that I needed to bother, because in the time it took to write this the last three cupcakes have vanished. How silly of me to think that cupcakes would last more than an hour around these here parts.

*Seriously? My desk is the only suitable place to put these evil sweets? What, is there some sort of caveman inspired subconscious compulsion to put chocolate in front of the fat girl? I just don't get it.

What the...

Is it really Friday already? How did that happen? Seriously. Where did Thursday go? Did it forget to make an appearance this week?

I think this has been THE fastest week I've ever experienced. I've been so busy thinking/worrying/stressing over things (school/work/car/bills/etc) I haven't had time to realize that actual days are passing by. But things are settling down now.

I no longer have to scramble to get my books ordered online as soon as possible because the professor is boycotting the bookstore (as many of them are) and all four books she wanted us to read are out of print and not in regular bookstores and only one was on loan at a nearby library and the online biggie book sellers said the first book we need to read by next Wednesday usually ships in 4 to 6 weeks so I ordered it used from an 'amazon seller' and those people really don't care that I need the book to be here BEFORE the day we'd be discussing it in class so that I'd actually have time to read it because there are only eight of us in the class and the teacher will definitely know if I haven't read it and... yeah, so that's one thing I was worried about.

Which was all for naught as I've just dropped the class. It was at a bad time and there were so many reasons to drop it and only two reasons to keep it. 1) the more classes I take the sooner I'll be done and 2) I kind of liked the fact that I was going to be reading those books and discussing them, because they aren't books that I would normally read on my own. So maybe I'll try and take it again later. Who knows. All I know is that life will be much shinier and fluffier now that I'm only taking two classes. I'll still have loads of reading homework to do (including TWO thousand-page-books... eek!), but I'll be less stressed, which is always a good thing.

So I now have an easier work/school schedule, I'll be saving tons of money on gas (I filled up twice this week! ouch), and I won't want to commit a road rage inspired act of violence as often as I did this week. It took me over an hour and a half to drive less than thirty miles the other night and I really wanted to hit someone, or something, I wasn't too picky at that point.

So not only am I dropping this class for my benefit, I guess I'm also performing a public service.

All you SoCal freeway drivers can go ahead and thank me. :)

Tuesday is Chooseday

And I choose NOT to go to school today! Oh wait. I can't afford to not go. First day of this new class and all. Attendance is mandatory for the first two weeks. Drats.

It's just that I'm really not looking forward to finding out how much more reading homework I'll have. Because right now, with the two MWF classes, I'll have enough reading homework to keep myself busy for the next few months. Seriously. And the TuTh class that I'll be showing up for the first time today? Is an English class were we will be studying a major author's work. As in a bunch of the book's she's written. Eeek!!!

Damn. I really wish I knew how to speed read.

Anywhoo...

On with the fun choices of the day... sort of. I don't have time right now to answer all four questions, so I'll do one, and hopefully I'll add to it later. In the meantime, you viewers can play along at home by trying to guess which one I'll pick. Or pick your own if you so choooooose.


Would you rather...

1. get a prank phone call at 2:00am OR sit on a whoopie cushion on a public bus?

A prank phone call at 2am because there's less of a chance of me Dying of Embarrassment. Sheesh. That whoopee cushion thing would be mortifying.

Unless I'm on a bus with a bunch of old people. Because old people fart all the time. It's what they do. And blaming my non-farts on them is what I do. Not that that happens often, mind you. It's just that... er... never mind. Besides, what are the odds that I'd be on a bus with only fart-y old farts? Slim, Jim. With my luck, it'd be me, a gaggle of Old Farts, and one Hot Guy.

So I'd rather you wake me up at 2:00am and tell me I'd better go catch my running refrigerator than slip a whooppe cushion under my butt right before it makes a touchdown.

2. get poked in the eye OR get a wedgie?

Updated 4:03 PM (now that blogger is finally letting me in... *grumble grumble*)

Let's see, I've been poked in the eye a few times and it hurt like hell. I think I'd rather get a wedgie. Sure, a wad of undy material YANKED up the butt crack hurts too, but at least you can still see the bastard who did it and rough them up a bit if you want.

3. taken to the hospital because of a freak accident involving a llama and whipped cream OR an allergic reaction on your nipples from latex?

Updated 9:58 AM on Friday (because the aliens were busy doing time warp experiments with me and just now deposited me back on earth)

Don't worry my little nipples. I'll not let anything harm you. Bring on the llama!

4. get bit by a rabid chihuahua OR a wild badger?

Updated 9:58 AM on Friday (see above)

Rabid Chihuahua means it has rabies. And rabies are baaaaaaad. So while I think I could put a better beat down on the Chihuahua I'd rather deal with the wild rabies-free badger.

Lurk-idy-doo-dah

Along with my New Year's Resolution to Blog More, because I missed it, I want to get back in the swing of Reading Other Blogs, because I miss that as well. Plus, I hope that their mad blogging skillz will rub off on me somehow so I've prescribed to the idea that the more I read the more I absorb and the more awesomer I get. (So awesome, in fact, that I can make awesomer an actual word and Webster gives me some sort of Best New (And By New We Mean It's Been Around Forever But Never Actually Validated Until Now) Word of the Year Award). Or something like that. Hey, anything is possible, right?

According to a couple blogs I've read so far this week, its Delurking Week. So have at it all (two of) you lurkers out there, comment! :)

I know how easy it is to lurk, because I'm a lurker. A big time lurker. Lately, I barely even have time for a couple drive-by blog readings then I'm off to run Some Report or kiss Some Corporate Ass or, as I can now claim, be a frazzled College Student again (*squeee*). I'm going to try and make the effort to comment as much as I can on other blogs. This week, as well as the weeks after. I've posted one comment today so... so far so good. And its Tuesday yet. I've still got more than half the week left! And more than half of the week's sanity left too! (I try and ration the sanity out in weekly installments. Don't want to use it all up in the first couple weeks of school.) So not bad.

In the meantime... I think I remember something about Tuesday being a Chooseday. Hmmm....

The Great Kiss-Your-Sanity-Goodbye Experiment

Today was the second day of what I affectionately like to refer to (in the whole 4 hours since I first came up with it) as The Great Kiss-Your-Sanity-Goodbye Experiment a.k.a. the new school quarter. Here's how my day has gone so far...

4:52-ish AM

I partially woke up, still sort of sleepy with no real sense of my surroundings but awake enough to realize that I did indeed have a bladder, and I somehow, through the machinations of a demonic half-asleep fairy, figured it was around 3 in the morning. Normally, waking up at 3 in the morning would tick me off. But I looked at it on a positive note: I could essentially SLEEP IN for a couple of hours. Sweeeeet.

5:00 AM

My alarm beeps screams like a harpy, I wake up, and the first mantra of the day starts repeating in my head ("I need more sleep! I need more sleep!"). I proceed to run around, trying to find clothes that at least sort of match. I did not, unfortunately, have time to find one of the gabillion bras I own that was NOT the new one I bought YESTERDAY and therefore have NOT YET WORN. More on this later.

5:24 AM

I did, however at least, have time to remember to brush and deodorize and find matching socks AND make sandwiches. The sandwiches are important, otherwise I might raid the vending machines and/or cave under the pressure to support my taste bud's favorite vice. (Greasy French Fries Orgy Parties!)

5:30 AM

I leave for work. (It was more like 5:34 AM, but I'm not going to get too specific here. You're welcome.)

6:00 AM

I arrive at work, clock in, race upstairs, start the first pot of coffee for the day. I B.S.-ed (Technical Work Place Term) with my Soon To Be Ex-Boss and another co-worker for several minutes then got down to work.

Let the games begin!

9:00 AM

I attended the Weekly Group Meeting. A few New Players were there to listen to us rehash the same shit we've been rehashing for months. It was FUn with a capital FU.

10:00 AM

I clocked out, peed (okay, so I lied about the "being specific" part - my bad), speed-walked to my car and headed to school.

10:27 AM

I'm in the parking lot already! Yeah for no traffic!

10:39 AM

I get to my classroom (because the only place to park is a ten minute walk from my classroom, and I have one of the closest classrooms to walk to!). I hope I get in some sort of shape (other than round) soon from all this walking. At least its something.

11:10 AM

Class starts. It's a Comparative Literature class titled Marxism, Psychoanalysis, and Postcolonialism. Sounds like fun, eh? I'd spent the previous thirty minutes trying to catch up on the reading that was due today. It was a selection from Sigmund Freud's "Totem and Taboo" essay. I had the weekend to read it, but I was busy. Plus, it took awhile to read because I could NOT read that whole thing in one sitting. "Freud Dude" overload or something. Bleagh.

12:00 PM

Class ends and I make a bee line for the OPPOSITE side of campus because I needed to pick up my ID card. It's a hideous picture of me and I plan to whip it out every time I'm contemplating sweets or fast food or anything else bad for me because its an excellent Say No To Fat picture. Bah!

12:30-ish PM

I get back to my car, a bit winded, a bit sore from the horrible walking shoes I'm wearing because they're the only work shoes I own. Which means, darn it, that I have to find time to go shoe shopping. I hate shopping for shoes because I can never find the shoes I want. Being tall may have its advantages, but I'd trade Being Able To Reach The Top Shelf for Being Able To Find Shoes In My Size WHEREVER I Go.

1:00 PM

I clock back into work having BARELY made it back. Traffic this time around was a little more chaotic. By now I'm hungry (I'd been snacking on peanuts on the way back but they weren't cutting it) and I'm achy and crabby and achy because its that wonderful time of the month when I have an excuse to be crabby (small favors) and the new bra I'm wearing is digging in and rubbing and all around driving me BATSHITMUTHAEFFINCRAZY (ok, make that reeeeeeeally small favors) and I seriously contemplated ripping it right off and going commando. But then I took a deep breath, realized it would be quite inappropriate to unleash the girls on my unsuspecting work peers, and got back to work. After I grabbed one of my sandwiches from the fridge, that is and got some nutrition in me. Man, I could kill for a snickers bar right now. And I do mean kill. Death by Bra Strangulation perhaps. Hmmm... it has possibilities.


I've been working on work stuff and typing this up for the last couple of hours and that leads us up until right now. I mean now. No, now. No... *ahem*

And the day's not over yet! Wheeeeeee!


Here's what the rest of my day will look like:

5:00 PM

Clock out of work, run to car, and drive like crazy for about 20 minutes then get stuck in insanely aggravating slow moving traffic for about 30 minutes (which is about how long it took last Friday) so that it takes twice as long to drive to school in the evening as it does in the afternoon. Then I have to find a new parking lot because Friday I parked too far away and it was dark and scary and the exercise isn't worth the ninja skills I'll need to know in order to fight off all the evil demons lurking in the shadows.

new school campus + nighttime = scary evil demon lurkage.

6:10 PM

Class starts. It's my Intro To Creative Writing class and I really hope its fun. I also hope that traffic isn't so bad that I'm late for this class. I think I might be cutting it really close. Which means I'll look Super Sexy all hot and red-faced and breathy as I run through the door. Sweeeet.

And if the traffic gods are listening, I'd also like to be there in time to get at least a little bit of the reading assignment done. As I haven't yet started it. Oops.

7:00 PM

Get out of class. Brave the scary shadowy places in between the classroom and the BFE parking lot.

8:00 PM

Get home. Yes, last Friday it took a fucking hour to get home. Without traffic it takes half that long. BAH!

Fun schedule, eh? I get to do this shit three days a week! Tuesday's and Thursday's look almost the same, only I don't have a night class to drive back to school for (thank god.) I'm not too worried about my sanity yet. I blame today's near neurotic bra breakdown on the rampant hormones. But I will make no promises and offer no guarantees on the state of my sanity by the end of the quarter. Heh. So pull up a chair. I'll start popping the popcorn.

Back, by popular demand... *waves to Judy*

I'm baaaaaaack. Well, for now, at least. Hopefully I can get back in the swing of things (i.e. blogging).

Sheesh. I havent' written anything in a looooong time. I've been writing in my head, writing a lot in my head actually, I just haven't had the time or the energy to put it down on paper/compu-screen. It's been Crazy Busy around here (here meaning work, The Office Of Despair - aka TOOD. Heh.) Plus, I've been a bit ADD-ish lately. Hopefully I've got that out of my system because you know what? I've got a fresh batch of homework to look forward to and I need all the attention-focus-hocus-pocus I can muster.

Oh yeah, that's right. It's school time again. And this time? I'm at a new school. A big scary big time school. And I'm a little anxious. Nervous even. With a tummy that's home to the Spaztastic Butterfly Brigade. Because I don't quite know what to expect (I know it will be fun and exciting and challenging, but still... what if my teachers are evil?) And I don't know how heavy my homework load will be. I'm working full time and am taking a full load of classes and I just hope I managed enough time in between work and classes and more work and more classes and I really don't need more than a couple hours of sleep a night to function properly and... AAAAGGGHHHHH!!!

Tension breaker. Had to be done. (Hackers anyone? Anyone?)

Today's the first day of class. On a Friday. How lame is that? I've got the day off, only came in to work for a Super User meeting. I've got two classes today. One at 11am and the other at 6pm. So I'll have a little over five hours on campus to run all the errands I need to run. (Pick up ID card... cry over the insanely high cost of text books... ) And just in case I have some free time on my hands (I might pass out from all the walking, or I might have a few minutes to spare here and there) I've brought the book that I'm in the middle of reading that I really need to finish before school really gets underway. I'm LOVING the book, so it shouldn't be too hard.

Okay. Enough stalling. Time to go wander around a new campus looking like a lost, confused puppy. :)