My Ramblings...

I've packed it up and I'm headed west...

2006-06-28T13:59:00.000-05:00

Well, it's time to be anonymous again.

I'm leaving blogger.

Old entries will remain.

If you know me, don't ask me where I went. I have been censoring myself, and I don't want to do that anymore.

If you don't know me - meaning you have never, ever, ever met me in real life - and you want to know where I've gone, email me. Tell me who you are and your web address and I can email you the link. There isn't much there yet...

Thanks for understanding.

Batten down the hatches...

2006-06-21T08:39:00.000-05:00

This is what our radar looks like.

Eet ees so eekciting! Wish I had my weather radio.

Yes, I am a weather dork.

Birthday plus Friends equals Beer and Shots divided by Not Such a Good Idea After All

2006-06-20T09:31:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Mr.'s birthday. We began celebrating Friday. Dinner and a few drinks. No biggie. Saturday was riding and to the dealership where I copped out on the whole gift giving surprise thing and just told Him to get the riding jacket He's been wanting. Later there was a naked pool party at our friend's house. Well, the girls were naked. The guys stood outside the pool's fence, leaning on it, sipping their beverages and making comments here and there. Fun was had by all. Sunday was the whole Father's day thing, then out to dinner again and in bed early.

Monday, however, one of our friends called and said he wanted to by Mr. a beer for His birthday. So we went to the used-to-be-our-favorite-bar-but-there-is-so-much-drama-it's-not-
so-much-anymore-but-we-still-go-because-our-friends-are-there bar.

Let me just state that it is not possible, at least among the company we were amongst, for a man to only have ONE beer on his birthday. Because once one person says "Hey! Get him a beer on me for his birthday!" the other guys hear (and actually the first one was bought by a girl but she's my friend so it's cool) they say "The next one is on me!" Then more friends happen to show up (this never happens on a Monday!) and pretty soon they decide that shots are in order, and if you are Mr. this is bad news, because while it sounds fun, this is only because you have FORGOTTEN that you don't drink shots and it is also Monday and you have to work tomorrow and then your wife says "I have they keys, you are SO not driving home". And that is hard because your man pride does not allow you to feel that it is ok for your wife to drive when you are along, but then you drink the shot and your forget that part, so, what the hell.

Rinse and repeat. And then again. Do not bother to drink the same shots. Drink three different kinds, more than one of some of them. Engage in conversations that you MAY not remember the next day. Walk outside to see if it is still raining. Suddenly look at your wife, after she notices the sweat on your brow and say, "Are you ready to go?" Get up and hug ALL of the people in the bar or shake their hands, except for that weird guy down at the end that you don't know. Walk, with a slight unsteadiness, to the vehicle. Successfully enter, but then try to fasten the safety belt into your cell phone case. Giggle. Request air conditioning and roll down the window. Realize that you don't really feel so good. Make it home without the tossing of the cookies. Hit the other vehicle in the garage with your door because you tell your wife "I can do it" when she says "wait and let me help you". Say "Oh, that sucks." Balance on the other vehicle to get inside the house. Pause several times while trying to make it up the stairs, again refusing assistance. Remember that it is garbage night. Continue with the man pride and insist on taking the garbage out. Succeed! Make a funny face after accepting painkillers and water that isn't quite cold enough. Request Gatorade. Enter "I love you man!" mode. Allow wife to remove your boots, even though "you can do it." Exclaim, "I know what you're thinking! 'Look at my drunk husband.' I shouldn't have done that. I don't like this at all!" Accept offer to go outside into the fresh air. Come back in the house and make it to the bathroom and again, retain the cookies. Come to bed. Express frustration at not being able to perform loving relations on your birthday.

Zonk out.

Poor guy. He is hurting today. This is not normal for Him. He never feels sick after just a few drinks. He had a lot more than a few drinks. I always feel bad the next day after just having a couple. He never seemed to understand my lower tolerance. I'm sure He's getting razzed by all the guys at work. Constructions workers are ruthless. I feel partially at fault. I should have discouraged the shots. But, it was entertaining. Hee!

Tonight we will sit on the couch and watch TV. If He makes it through the day. And I won't even nudge Him when He falls asleep in the middle of a show.

What'd ya say, sonny?

2006-06-08T08:21:00.000-05:00

ESC linked to this. I heard about it on the news a while back, but didn't think anything of it. It's true. My right ear stops hearing after 15,000. Left is good through 16,000.

*sigh*

I think there may be hearing aids in my future.

Maybe I'll just get one of those little trumpet thingies like they have in the old Looney Tunes cartoons and hold it up to my ear... "Huh? What was that? Can't you speak up?"

You might be my white trash neighbor...

2006-06-06T11:42:00.000-05:00

"Do you like our umbrella?"

"Um. Yeah. Nice."

"We found it in the trash."

"..."

Not that there is anything wrong with a little garbage picking. Whatever. Some people throw out good stuff. It does make for entertaining, over-the-fence conversations.

Like this:

Neighbor: "Hey, I got a new lawnmower."

R: "Yeah?"

N: "Yeah, this guy was just throwing it away. You remember Tim 'the Toolman' Taylor?"

R: "Yeah."

N: "Well, remember his tools? Binford?"

R: "Yeah..."

N: "Well, that's what this tractor is. A Binford. I didn't know that was a real company!"

R: "Um. I don't think it is."

N: "Well, that's what it says on the side. Binford."

A little while later, after genius is back in his house, R looks through the fence at the "new tractor". You know what it said?

BRADFORD.

These people are brilliant.

This conversation was after the conversation he initiated about their new dog. A dachshund. A THOROUGHBRED dachsund. Which could work, I guess, but usually refers to a HORSE, no?

It was before his daughter had her baby because they REDUCED labor.

And it was also before his 15 year old son was taken away in handcuffs and shackles by two sheriffs last week.

I'm so not even kidding.

It's like Jerry Springer is housing his guests in my back yard.

Yeah I got nothin...

2006-06-01T15:02:00.000-05:00

Just didn't like seeing a large view of my neglected nail polish.

I've got nothing to say right now, a miracle to some. On vacation, trying to relax and enjoy myself, but not quite able to stop feeling sorry for myself because I'm on vacation but I'm still at home. Eh, maybe next year I'll see the beach. And a pool with a swim-up bar.

Ahhhh.....

Violation on HNT

2006-05-25T10:19:00.000-05:00

#2 of the sandal oath: I will go polish-free or vow to keep the polish fresh, intact and chip-free. I will not cheat and just touch up my big toe.

Oopsie.

Brass Tacks

2006-05-25T09:55:00.000-05:00

I can happily say that Mr. has never had an issue with leaving the toilet seat up. He was already toilet-trained when I got Him, most likely at a very early age by His mother. For this I am very thankful. However, every once in a while, He has a tendency to put the toilet LID down. I have never understood this practice. I am not sure if He is afraid something 'didn't go down' and He doesn't want it exposed to the elements or on display, or if maybe He just accidentally grabbed it with the seat and they both went down together. Regardless, at 5 AM this morning, I was reminded of the valuable toilet lesson my mother taught me at an early age (my dad wasn't quite as toilet trained). That lesson was to LOOK BEFORE YOU SIT. Especially when you've just gotten out of bed, and didn't turn on the bathroom light because HOLY COW there is nothing worse than a cold bathroom floor and a bright bathroom light reflecting off the mirrors at 5 AM when you have to pee. Well, one thing worse and that worse thing would be falling into the toilet because someone left the seat up. Not quite as disturbing, but definitely confusing is to sit down and think "What is that? It is fuzzy. Did I forget to shave? My whole ass is feels warm." only to realize the lid is down and you are sitting on the fuzzy toilet lid cover. Why DO so many women, myself included, insist on those fuzzy toilet lid covers anyway? Is it for situations such as this? It would have been much more startling to sit down on an uncovered cold lid. Yikes! So remember ladies, always look before you sit, even if your man is well trained in that area. You just never know.

There was a scary looking bird perched in the pine tree by my deck all evening. Every once in a while, it would flutter its wings and move to a different branch. The neighbor's cat was very interested these exciting flutters and branch changes, but could not manage to scale our fence for a closer view. I can't figure out if this bird was sick or just young. It was a robin, I think, and it had spots on its chest and belly. Are robins spotted when they are young? It definitely couldn't fly very well, and I could hear more in the tree way up above it. I'm thinking it was old enough to leave the nest, but just didn't want to leave yet. Kind of like a career college student mooching of of his or her parents until the mom or dad or both finally get fed up and throw everything in the kid's bedroom out the front door and yell "Enough! Get a job and GET OUT!" I think that is what the robin sitting on the electric wire near the tree was telling the young bird. And it was telling it a lot, over and over. According to R, it was the DAD robin because it was pretty, and "just like all species, the male is the pretty one." Anyway. I was given a sound piece of advice, that advice being "Don't touch it, it could have the BIRD FLU." Paranoid perhaps, but I don't want to take any chances. I looked back again later in the evening, and it was gone. Hopefully it finally figured out how to fly and wasn't really sick. But again, you just never know.

Using words like "network latency" and "connectivity issues" gets people off of your back when they keep telling you they are getting kicked off the server to which they remotely connect. These are good words to use when you have no fucking clue WHY it is happening.

New glasses on coffee table + nine month old pug that likes to chew on things = not good news

I'm off work next week. I cannot wait.

Pointless Wednesday Rant...

2006-05-17T12:04:00.000-05:00

I must resist the urge to make small talk or noise while on the phone waiting to shadow a offsite user. I think it makes me sound nervous, and I dislike when other people do it.

Example: "J? Can you shadow me? I am a big retard and still can't understand the step by step instructions you sent me."

"Sure. Let me log in."

..."do do do do dooooo...."

See? What the hell is that? That is almost as annoying as the sigh. You know, when you are on the phone with someone, and you both are waiting for a reboot or something, and there is that silence? Apparently silence is not permissible on the phone, because one, if not both of you will do the whispered sigh.

"Hold on. Let me restart this."

"Ok"

" haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh....."

Gah! No! Don't do that. ESPECIALLY right into the mouthpiece. It makes it sound like you are in a windstorm.

Of course, the worst is when someone breaths into the mouthpiece. Not just once or twice, because sometimes it's just accidental. But sometimes, people do it constantly. Do they have the damn receiver in their mouth? What the hell? Move the damn thing away from your mouth. It hurts my ears.

----------------------

Random thought.

I read on the Dilbert blog where Scott Adams was worrying about saying something silly after having a few "Grey Gooses". And immediately my brain thought "Grey Geese?"

Collect all the animals in the world, by twos...

2006-05-15T08:49:00.000-05:00

I realized I should have stayed in bed when I got up early, left to get gas (because my gas light was on), pulled into the gas station, and saw that the only available pump had a brown paper bag over it, indicating its out-of-order status.

The weekend was, once again, too short. And now the rain. I don't think it will ever end. I should probably build an ark, but I don't have the money for the wood and nails. It hasn't stopped since Saturday. Maybe even Friday.

I scheduled a week off. The week of Memorial Day. I need the break. I'm not going anywhere though. But hey, it's better than nothing, right?

Oh. I hate rainy Mondays.

They just make me feel sad.

How much is that baby in the window...

2006-05-11T10:46:00.000-05:00

One of the many, many, many things in this crazy world that can totally stress my day is having a bad dream the night before. My dreams are usually very detailed, in color, and I'm watching myself from above about ninety-nine percent of the time. Oh, and they're usually off-the-wall whack. Like this.

Mr. decided we were going to go to the pet store. He wanted a bird. Odd, I thought, because he has always expressed a dislike for pet birds, but hey, it's a dream. We enter the pet store, and in the front is a playpen filled with birds. I guess all their wings were clipped because none of them were flying away.

"What kind of bird do you want?" I asked, thinking he would choose the blue parakeet. Everybody gets parakeets as their first bird. I think because you can flush them when they die. No. That's not right.

"A conure."

"Oh. OK." In the dream, it really WAS a conure, which is funny, because I actually had to google conure to see if I was dreaming about the right bird.

He selects his conure, and we walk to the back of the store to get supplies. A cage, a wheel (?), some birdseed, and a water bottle (??). I have never seen a bird run in a hamster wheel, but I guess they do have funny tongues so a water bottle might not be so crazy.

After making his selections, we make our way back to the front of the store. We are almost to the register when he stops, sets everything on the ground, and says, "Wait. I changed my mind."

He walks back over to the playpen, only now, the playpen is filled with babies instead of birds. He selects a baby boy with blond hair and blue eyes, a little white t-shirt and blue osh-kosh overalls. He had on little white socks with red stripes on them and little Converse-looking shoes. Black. (The shoes, not the baby.)

Returning to the register with his new selection, he places the baby on the counter and the check out lady scans his arm and the price pops up and the cash register beeps. The check out lady proceeds to scan in all of his newly selected items (they just kind of appeared there). A playpen, crib, stroller, clothes, all KINDS of stuff.

"You can't buy a baby at a pet store!!!" I exclaimed.

"Yes I can."

"No! You can't. It's not legal! You said you wanted a bird!"

"I changed my mind."

"But a baby isn't like a bird. Birds die after 10 years (again, ???), babies you have FOREVER!"

"Well, people like me are allowed to buy babies here."

"What do you mean, people like you?"

"You know! Husbands who want to have more kids but their wives won't let them!"

"But you HAVE two kids. You said you didn't want more."

"I changed my mind."

"But..." I sputtered, "It's a BABY. I don't want to take care of a baby. Why can't you just get the bird?"

And then I woke up. And Mr. is so not allowed to go to any pet stores.

No speaka englais...

2006-05-11T07:56:00.000-05:00

"The printer downstairs is down for maintenance."

10 minutes later...

"Should I be printing to a different printer?"

Um. Yeah. That's what "down for maintenance means". Next time, I will write step by step instructions, and you still will not get it right. Don't worry, I will clear all the jobs in the queue for the printer that is DOWN for maintenance.

At least my hair is all one color now.

We'll Paint Happy Little Trees...

2006-05-10T14:18:00.000-05:00

I'm no Bob Ross, ok? Wish I was, that guy is all smiles. After a nice lecture from someone about my negativity issues, I have decided to make a list of things that make me feel happy. Baby steps.

And, Mr. Lecturer, for the record, no, I don't enjoy worrying. It sucks. I just don't understand how to stop. Telling me to "just stop" is absolutely no help because worriers like me DON'T KNOW HOW TO JUST STOP. I don't tell you to pee sitting down. So shut up.

So, without further ado, here is my stupid list of things I can think of right now that make me smile.

1. Flowers in the spring. Escpecially tulips. Heh. I said tulips.
2. Puppies. I love puppies. Even if they bite. They smell good.
3. Shopping. Can't really do that so much anymore. But I like to think about going to the mall. Or Barnes & Noble. Or Bed Bath and Beyond. Or Best Buy. Or Pier 1. I should stop.
4. Parties. I like parties. I don't like having parties - they stress me out. But I like going to them. Especially when there is a fire to sit by. There is nothing better than sitting by a fire and drinking some beer with your good friends while exchanging "Do you remember when...?" stories. Except for...
5. Camping. Even better! Because it involves all of number 4, but you are outside when you sleep (fresh air!) and you don't have to worry about messing up someone's house. Yay camping!
6. That hotel room we stayed at in Dundee.
7. Um. crap. I'm out for now. I know there's more. I'll work on it.

Just once...

2006-05-09T14:23:00.000-05:00

I'd like to be able to get my hair colored and not have a problem. Last time they couldn't lift the black, even with bleach. Fine. My fault for using box color. No problem. They covered it all with a level 3 (dark brown) and it was fine.

I went back for a retouch, and the girl didn't pull it through to cover where the bleach did work last time. I wasn't going to say anything, but it has been driving me nuts. I can see a lighter ring around my head, about an inch and a half from my scalp down to about 3 inches away from my scalp.

I paid to have my hair retouched, not striped, right? So I was justified in calling and asking them if they could fix it, right? The lady I spoke with was very nice (I was being very nice - I know getting nasty about stuff like that doesn't help) and told me not to worry and that if I can see it then it must be there and they will fix it. So I'm going back tomorrow.

Why am I all stressed out about this? I'm right, right?

Sunny Monday...

2006-05-08T09:05:00.000-05:00

Today is one of those days. I can't think rationally. One little thing goes wrong, and I'm in a tailspin. I can't keep it all in, but I can't get it all out. That horrible butterfly feeling won't quit. I'm trying. I can't do it. I can't not think. Worry consumes me, and I can't get away from it. I know it doesn't help. I know it won't make anything better. I make things worse, because I have to vocalize, and nothing I say makes a whole lot of sense. But I can't control it. How can I still be so weak? At this point in my life, I should really have a handle on my emotions. You would think.

You would think.

Dog-headed Pouch-dog...

2006-05-05T14:25:00.000-05:00

Determination to succeed at my Avoidance Management program has caused me stumbled upon Stumble Upon. This site is the bomb-diggity when you are bored and can't think of any new web sites to visit. Just install, set your preferences, and start stumbling.

You will dicover things you never knew existed, like the Thylacine, which technically doesn't exist anymore, but HOW EXCITING. If I had lived in the 20's, I would have SO been at the zoo taking pictures. Oh, and this is NOT to be confused the with Tasmanian Devil. I know because I checked.

How did you spend your Friday?

D Pup...

2006-05-05T07:15:00.000-05:00

Let's play a game...

2006-05-04T10:14:00.000-05:00

Let's call Cingular and try to remove international service from not one, but three phones.

Then, let's keep track of how many times you get transferred, how many times you have to give your name and the last four digits of your Tax ID number, how many times you are placed on hold, and also the total call time.

So far, 3, 3, 5, 15 minutes.

Whee!

What I think today...

2006-05-03T09:31:00.000-05:00

If you come in to work and check your email first thing in the morning, and you read an email about a problem, do not panic and respond to me until you have read through ALL of your emails to make sure it hasn't been resolved. Otherwise you will waste my time telling me something I have already figured out. I dislike when I have to respond to you telling you to see my next message.

If you don't know me, and you sit down next to me in a public place, and you start telling me how you are a reiki master and prescription medications are ALL BAD and homeopathy has been around for thousands of years and gluten is evil and your son had ADD until you made him eat grain bread instead of wheat and he ISN'T EVEN EVER TIRED ANYMORE AFTER LUNCH (!!) and your husband is NEVER in a bad mood anymore because he eats the grain too, well, I AM going to think you are a flake. Not a corn flake, because, you know, corn is contaminated, but a grain flake, at least. Please. How about a nice cup of shut the fuck up?

If you break up with your girlfriend, and you get a brand new girlfriend, it is not your business anymore what your old girlfriend is doing. Ever. At all. You should not send her anymore text messages. You should not tell her to quit being "googly-eyed" with the new person she is dating. You should not tell her it is too soon for her to love someone else. Especially if you had the new girlfriend BEFORE you disposed of your old girlfriend AND you also do all of the above in front of your old girlfriend. It's the pot calling the kettle black, my friend, and you should never, ever do that. Oh, and by the way, your friends are starting to think you are a really big jerk. So knock it off. Crybaby.

Fried-Day..

2006-04-28T14:11:00.000-05:00

Lots of people at my work have started tanning, and some bloggers have mentioned it as well, so I decided it was time for me to leave behind my glowing white, spider-veined legs, and opt for the lobster with freckles look.

OK, well, that wasn't my exact intention. I kind of forgot about the freckles I would soon sport after excessive UV exposure, and didn't plan on burning.

The first time, the nice young chap who sold me on my (overpriced?) package put me in the standard, twenty minute bed for five (!) minutes. Turns out that was wise of the boy, though I never would have thought I could trust a 20-something guy who really seemed proud that his main source of income was working full time in a tanning salon. I stand corrected.

After my first tan, which was a piece of 5-minute cake, he got me all signed up and explained that for the next nine days, I could use ANY bed that I wanted without paying the upgrade fees. You know, to check out all they have to offer. Well. OK then.

The next day, I returned and was placed in the "Turbo" bed with facial tanner. I giggle like a pubescent boy when I hear the word "facial", so after I bit my bottom lip to suppress it, the nice career-tanner explained how to work the bed. Again,
my time limit was five (!) minutes, and again, wise choice. I was a teeny-tiny bit pink, but not bad at all. My lips did feel like they were being burned off with a blow torch, but all was well after I figured out out to turn off the facial (tee-hee!) bulbs. And it had a built in "Turbo" fan. Very nice, because, ew, I didn't want to go back to fluorescent hell all stinky.

Today, I returned for my third session. This time, body-building-tan-man must have been on lunch, as a young girl assisted me. She asked what bed I wanted and I shrugged my shoulders.

"OK, how about the bed that massages your back?"

"Um. OK." Perhaps it would bring some relief to my bastard shoulderblade, I thought.

"OK. We'll do six minutes each side, because you have to flip over. And it gets pretty hot."

???

Now, I personally think that all tanning beds are hot, and if there is not a fan blowing full blast on me, I won't make it through the session. Guaranteed. And if this girl, who clearly spends a lot of time tanning, thinks it's hot, well, I'm in trouble.

But I am a trooper and tried not to flinch when she said that and tried not to flinch again when I saw this contraption she was speaking of. It was way to space-agey for me, and it didn't have a top that you can just flip open when you are done. It had a button. That you had to push. To raise it back up after it was done cooking you. Now, for most people, this would not be an issue. But for me, she-with-the-most-irrational-fears-possible, this was a problem. Because, what if, WHAT IF the button broke? And I couldn't get out. And the bulbs wouldn't shut off. And my insides were charbroiled to a crisp. My lips probably really WOULD burn off, and I'm kind of partial to my lips. Wow. Did you say this thing get hot? Because I'm already burning up.

"...and I know it says 20 minutes, but it will really only be 12" (are you sure) "and you just have to keep an eye on it" (but you aren't supposed to open your EYES in the tanning bed!) "and flip over after 6" (what if I don't flip over in time?) "and here is how you turn the massager on and off. OK! Enjoy."

O.K.

I stripped of my clothing (no tan lines!), applied my hemp bronzing cream, pushed the start button and got in. I heard the bulbs first, and it seemed that the brightness and temperature were just going to keep intensifying. Then the fan kicked on, which relaxed me a bit. Next I felt something move (ack!), but it was only the massager. Which was very nice, it kept me distracted, and my shoulderblade did feel a little better. Soon I started getting paranoid about turning over. I actually turned over about 5 minutes in. I turned off the massager (frontal massages are weird unless they are from Mr.) and tried to relax. With no more distraction from the massager, all I could think about was how HOT it was. And if my legs were burning, because they sure felt like they were burning. I checked the timer (my eyes!) at least six times. Finally, I decided I couldn't take it any more, and shut it down at 10 minutes.

Must to my relief, the bulbs went dark and the top began to rise. Of course, I had to wait until it was completely up to get out because, well, what IF you aren't supposed to touch it, and I bumped it and the bulbs shattered and rained hot glass
particles all over my naked being? (Did I mention the irrational fear of tanning beds that I have?) I stood up and my face was RED and my butt was RED and my neck was RED and my belly was RED and my thighs were RED, and, oh, you get the idea. I blotted off (I don't sweat very much, really) and slowly got dressed.

I am a little more pink, and my thighs feel sore and my lips hurt. I don't think I'll be using the massage-a-tan bed again.

I will be taking the weekend off from tanning anyway, so I think I'll survive.

I'll just stick with getting a facial (hee!) from the "Turbo" bed.

It's safer that way.

It's a Bright, Bright, Sunshiny Day...

2006-04-28T09:28:00.000-05:00

I wish I would have played hooky today.

The sun is shining (at least it was when I got here) and it is going to be warmer than I originally heard. In general, a nice spring day.

My shoulder is still effin killing me.

But because my desk (read: table) is not like this:

there really isn't much I can do about it.

My concentration level is still off. Things to worry about, things I find to worry about, things I make up to worry about are all factors here. That and the fact that I think I am just ca-razy...

People who know me will agree.

I think I just need to locate one of these after work today.

T-effin-G-I-F.

Pain, Drunkenness and Poo. In that order...

2006-04-27T09:18:00.000-05:00

The pinch in my shoulder blade is still there, if anyone cares. I'm sitting here smelling like Vick's Vaporub because I had Mr. stick one of those stinky Icy Hot pads on the offending muscle/nerve/whatever. I don't think it is helping, but my nasal passages are nice and clear from inhaling the menthol all morning. I am not enjoying smelling like an old person though.

A bit of advice to the single ladies...

If you have just recently started seeing a new guy, who just recently got out of a bad relationship because the previous woman was too immature to handle the relationship, dO NOT sit at the bar all afternoon after blowing off work when you have already made dinner plans with said guy. That is not such a good impression. You know, especially the part where you pass out after returning home and don't hear him knocking on your door for 20 minutes. Seriously.

D-pup's poo seems to be better. Of course we thought that yesterday and then she had a relapse. She has a vet appointment scheduled for today that we can cancel, should she decide to stay solid. They didn't seem overly concerned when Mr. called, so that's good. I think it's from all the damned acorns she eats. They're everywhere. I keep trying to explain to her that she is not a squirrel, but she just won't hear it. Denial.

Happy HNT. Maybe one of these weeks I'll actually post a picture for it.

My first beading project evah....

2006-04-26T09:49:00.000-05:00

And yes, I am bored today, and this is my camera phone.

Wonderful quality.

Did someone send you flowers?

2006-04-26T07:40:00.000-05:00

No.

Can't I buy myself flowers?

Fake flowers at that.

Five pounds of screaming sleepless nights...

2006-04-25T15:50:00.000-05:00

Annoying girl at my work: "Hey j! Come here and look at new pictures of the BAAAAY-BEEEEEEEE." (Referring to some relative of hers whom I don't know who just had a premature baby boy, while I'm on my way to the bathroom. Of course.)

leans over desk to obligingly look at pictures on computer

AGAMW: "Isn't he cute?"

j: "Yeah. Cute."

AGAMW: (preparing for light-speed speech) "I just can'tbelievehowlittleheisiandheisdoingsogoodandis5poundsnow - ohsupervisorladycomehereandlookandthenewpicturesihaveofhtebaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybeeee...."

Supervisor girl: "Oh. How much does he way?"

AGAMW: "5 pounds! Can you believe it?"

see my escape route and make a break for it while she is distracted.

...

returning from bathroom

AGAMW: "I can't believe he is 5 pounds! Doesn't it make you want one?"

j: "Um. No."

AGAMW: "But he's cute though, right?"

j: feeling guilty "Yep. Sure is."

I'm not saying I'm not happy for the little guy, pulling through premature birth and all. But really, is that so miraculous anymore? And, I don't KNOW her family or the little baby, and sorry, I just CAN't gush over babies. CAN NOT. That little piece that goes inside women that makes them all googly and starry-eyed and picturing the mini-van with 2 car seats? I didn't get that piece. Or it is broken. It always was. And it still is.

I'm sorry.