All for nothing, I assure you.

So sorry for not writing, oh you three people who stumble across my blog in the vain hope that you could perhaps plagiarize some if not all of it for a middle school mythology report.

Sorry.

Not really.

Well, while I was being dutifully wonderful in every way — I even got the oil in my car changed at 3,000 miles last week — I haven’t had time to write.  That and I actually had things to do at work. So here goes.

I went to Peninsual-fresh today for lunch today, as I conveniently forgot my lunch at home.  Didn’t want a stupid salad anyways.  So as I was navigating over to the wonderful salsa bar (that you are only allowed to enjoy in tablespoon sized portions) I ran smack into a good looking young man.

It must have been fate, right? I mean, how else do you want to tell your kids you met, besides some fake-mex restaurant’s salsa bar mishap?

Well I guess it could have been fate, if I was on an aimless search for the perfect appetite suppressant.  As I looked up into his face, I smiled and opened my mouth to say “I’m sorry” or something else equally as alluring, I caught a whiff of his cologne. Ever have one of those moments when the mere smell of something blasts you with a memory so sharp that you forget where you are and how you got there for even just a moment?

Well before I could stammer out a syllable, I was transported back to the 5th grade, when I had failed to change the bedding in my gerbil’s cage.  For the 5th week running.

So instead of “I’m sorry” I stammered out “Oh god no” and walked away.

I didn’t even get any damn salsa for my stupid salad in its stupid taco shell bowl.

Oh, and I lied about the oil.  Also stole it from A—-a’s g-chat status message.

Enjoy!

I got a new phone yesterday, an upgrade from my fake smart phone to a phone so smart it calls me an idiot every time I press the wrong button.  I got one of Verizon’s many answers to the iPhone, a Droid2.   While at the lovely Verizon store, the sales rep tried to get me to buy a Droid X by extolling it’s many virtues such as an on screen keyboard, HD Video recording, and 8.0 megapixle camera.

I blinked at her, and said something unintelligible about needing a physical keyboard, which she scoffed at and dragged me over to try out the new and imporved, HD-ready DroidX.  It really is an impressive little thing.  Top heavy, because of the camera, thin enough to loose between the seat and console of your car, and indeed has the most inane and impossible to work onscreen keyboard on the market.

After watching me use the side of one of my pinky’s to painstakingly enter a few test words, she conceded that maybe the keyboard was a better option for me. And then conned me out of over $100 worth of accessories.

Fun times. But I got a new phone!  How cool is that?

*given that we allot time to sleep, shit and eat, that is.

I’ve actually been studying.  And quitting smoking.  The first takes up lots of time, sitting and quietly concentrating.  The second makes me do everything but sit in one place for any length of time.  So, naturally, they don’t like each other.  And, naturally, I decided to do them both at the same time.

Well, anyways I’ve been in hiding, not that you really care, and been getting shit done.  Now that I’ve turned my educational fate over to the Gods, and I think that smoking makes people smell bad, I can finally sit down and not have to worry about logic and health and other trivialities.

People have come and gone and resurfaced so I’ll update “Those” during another stint at the keyboard.  But for now…

I got a dog.  She’s cute.  She’s stupid. She makes people cross to the other side of the street when they see us coming.  Don’t know why.  It’s not like she’s a pitt or anything… oh wait.

GI Jane is getting a divorce from her scum-sucking, ass-bag of a husband.  And if it wasn’t’ illegal I’d put his name, address, social security number, and phone number up in the innernets I would pay for banner to be made on every porn site I could find. The piss ant.   A real winner that one.  Salt of the earth and all that.

Felicity is gone.  I don’t have a clue why, and don’t much care.

Bank’s still in NY.  Still a VP.  Still hot as hell, and making buckets of money, with which she travels the world in small and fabulous doses whenever she can.  Efking prima donna.  Not really.  But whatever. I’m allowed to be jealous.

Preggie had a fabulous little boy.  And is pregnant again, so the name stands, thank you.

Steve is Steve, doing his Steve thing somewhere else these days.  Not really sure.

Rash got married.  She’s Mrs. Rash now.  Don’t talk to her either.  But we’re facebook friends, so it’s ok.

VD?  Married.  And doing her VD thing somewhere else. Hahahahaha.  She’s going to kill me when she reads this.

And last but not least, Dumbquat finally proposed to Dell!  Oh, and she said yes.  We’re all very grateful, I mean happy for them.

That’s all for now.  Back to doing the things I have no training in, but am expected to know how to do, and do well.  Don’t you just love being a responsible adult?

* Talk about scraping the barrel of fan fiction…

And when you try to sit up, the pounding in your head would then remind you of the half bottle of wine you drank.  Leading, one would assume, to the lack of judgment that allowed a giggling baby to shove gluten laden pastina into your mouth hand over fist.

You of course would spend the whole morning:

1. wondering why you even came into work
2. glaring at your LSAT prep book
3. dreaming of incinerating your LSAT prep book
4. wanting to know when the hell you signed up for homework BEFORE you even took the test to MAYBE get into a schooling program (that the mere thought of makes your soul whimper)
5. what hiccup in your hog tied biological clock made you go all gooey over baby smiles enough to eat saidbaby drool coated blegh (ok, going to throw up now)
6. Why the world thinks that monsoon season is a good look for the east coast

And then your day will look up.

Because there is bacon in the kitchen.

5 pounds of cooked bacon.

Well… Maybe 3.  (Now.)

“The Doctor gave me SOMA as a muscle relaxer.”

Those to ignorant to read, rarely react to ridicule without decking someone.

And that tends to ruin Christmas.

So? Did you all make out like bandits this year? I DID! Hahahahahaha. I got a toothbrush and a vacuum , and a humidifier, and a CD and tons of books about Anim—-als. Animals. –Whew– and a homemade candle display, and assorted other goodies. Sadly, I think I only attempted to jump up and down over the vacuum. (And you would too, if your current vacuum had all the sucking capability of… uhm… something that doesn’t suck very well.)

But back to more important things–like making fun of me–I injured myself at work. Now this could be common place, or even natural if I A) worked on scaffolding-though I’d probably get arrested for spitting on people before I had the grace to fall off, B) worked with power tools–other than the industrial hole punch machine in the copy center, C) was a professional athlete – of anything other than smoking cigarettes and drinking cheap beer and expensive wine, or D) did anything other than cart myself around an office all day. Well, I was coming out of the elevator (I’ll leave that one for you, C.S., and happy Christmas) onto the secure floor of our facility, my arms full of that day’s newspapers, when I noticed that not only was the secure door to the floor open, but that no alarm was going off. (In case you were wondering, this is a VERY BIG FEDERAL NO-NO.) Too bad I didn’t notice that the elevator had opened about 6 inches lower than it should of, leaving a ledge tailor made for klutzes like me. I stepped right onto said ledge, twisted my ankle, threw the newspapers up in the air, tore something in my knee trying to compensate, then gave up on that whole ‘balance’ bullshit that you all seem to be so good at keeping, and proceeded to face plant, while newspapers floated down around me. Very slapstick, and smooth like budd-ah, if I do say so myself.

So, now I’m sitting in my messy apartment (I can’t clean, I’m injured!) waiting for the fridge to grow food, and hoping that FiOS messes up and gives me the movie channels for free as a late Christmas present.

I think I might be here a while folks.

Now get over it. I’m fine.  Thanks for asking.

I’ve been a bit busy.  Trying to get enough candles together to sell… buying everything under the sun (as apparently you need it all for making candles)… going to a movie with some friends… selling myself so that I can afford more damn beeswax…  crying over the fact that someone else is quicker on the uptake than I, to have stumbled upon the greatest name for a candle company ever (I cried Kat, I really really cried)…  another couple of movies in there somewhere… selling myself again, because I didn’t think it was supposed to be that much fun… getting ever more pissed off at the drama queen I have to work with… trying to understand the reasoning behind cursing at your superiors (and yeah, it’s still a dumb ass idea in my book, unless you’re trying to get fired, and then you’re a genius)… reading online comics… and dog sitting.

There.  My life in a nutshell.  Oh, and if you’re ever around the 14th street bridge, and you hear “tutti hanno il suo prezzo, ma il do sconti!” just keep driving.  I don’t want you to know what I look like.

Now tell me what you want for christmahaunakwanza or whatever wonderbread-esq, non-offensive or offensive (we’re equal oppertunity here at the M&P) religion you practive that has a holliday coming up.

I’m tired of asking.

It seems to go lovely with Send me an Angel by Dirty on Purpose.

Or

Lexington Candles.

Thanks everyone who played!  Now onto bigger and better things.

Tomorrow.

Today, I’m too lazy.

-Gnugs