Wha-Why?

I have been being a very good girl as of late.  I’ve been eating my vegetables, working out, walking my dog, cleaning my house, being polite to my roommate, even being kind to my parents.

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!

Droidiot

Why is it that even though we have something, and that something works just fine to the point that we couldn’t possibly use all of it’s capabilities in one day,” we feel the need to buy it all over again, just with more features?

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.

Back for a bit

So, yeah.  I’ve been gone for a while.  In more ways than one.  No, I wasn’t in lock up, nor was I captured on the Iranian border.  I wasn’t even beamed backwards in time to meet my sparkly love monkey of a vampire who fought valiantly against the evil British forces of George the First in order to put Charles on the thrown of Scottland. *  And thank geebas, by the way.  I never liked Lisa Frank, Continue reading ‘Back for a bit’

Oh My Ever Loving Bacon God

There are some days where you wake up thinking, “Why the hell did I let my friend’s baby feed me hand fulls of crushed pasta last night?”

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.)

Really Bad…

Q: When in the Sea of Japan, what do Gunnery Sergeants on Japanese Battle Cruisers say?

StiCky Notes

It is not very nice to laugh at the members of your immediate family who don’t understand why the following is funny:

“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.

Ack! Holy Shit, I have a blog!

Wow. Kinda forgot about you there. Sorry about that. I’ve been a little out of it, what with being a gimp, and being transferred to the ‘lackey’ position at work (I’m told it’s temporary… yeah…) and all the incessant candle making. Fun times, people. Watching Wax dry is a bit more fun than paint… but not by much.

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.