Rainy Day People

Yesterday – or was it the day before? – Grammar asked me if I wanted to go for breakfast sometime, as he needed a “reality check”. I laughed, said sure. Today, he asked if I wanted to go to Hooters sometime (we never did go on our last adventure out). I said sure… reminded him about the breakfast, and asked if he wanted to throw lunch in there, too. He said he was just curious, as he hadn’t been to Hooters in a while, and he was… ready for it?…. “hankerin for a spankerin.”

I was out with Pretty and Johnny tonight when Grammar started texting me; we were having a coffee at Starbucks after our dinner in Ancaster. The food was fantastic, the espresso brownie for dessert was perfect. The company was excellent. I started texting with Grammar, and tried explaining to the two of them why our conversation had me laughing so hard. Neither of them understood. Apparently it wasn’t funny. WTF? He cracks me up to the point that I often smile in the car, thinking about our ”conversations”. These two simply have no sense of humour, I swear.

Anyway. I spent the day doing some errands. I grabbed Pretty’s birthday present, wrote her card, and made her cry. Yay me! lol. Also wrapped the presents for the boys, and bagged them for Grandma to take north with her. I threw some junk in a bag to take to the second-hand store. I was going to drop it off tonight when I went out, but I want to go through my closet and clean it out, first. Why make more trips than I have to?

I bought a set of sheets and some new rugs for the bathroom. I didn’t have the money to spend, but those are a few things I’ve been after for a while, and, as usual, I bought them on sale. I’m trying to think of the last thing I bought for myself that wasn’t on sale. Not having much luck coming up with an answer. I swear, the Guess purse looks more and more inviting… Pretty and Johnny both commented on my new hair. I laughed; I haven’t done anything except grow it in month, But it was still nice to hear.

I had to publish this one this morning because my computer went all wacky last night.

Let’s Get Rowdy

It’s 10:30 on a Friday night, and I’m sitting here all by myself. My eyes are watering like crazy, and have been all day. There’s a concert I’d like to go to in Brantford, but it will have already started and it’s too damn far to drive now. I’m sitting here thinking that tonight, I need a wingman. I need Pretty to be single – we could be out painting the town red. Or at least drinking expensive coffee in a decent atmosphere somewhere.

My day was pretty uneventful; I did as little work as possible (which still amounted to quite a lot, damn it). CM was depressing; I worked with the youngest member of the team, and honestly, I know she’s slow (worker, a slow worker, not mentally deficient), but c’mon. It took her four hours to sort a couple hundred similar product by brand and then by type. After I explained to her that she had half an hour left in which to sort the the product and pile them neatly on the floor, I walked over ten minutes later to find her artfully arranging the product in pretty stacks, leaning them against the very wall that she needed to move all of the product against. In theory, her idea was good. “Pretty” definitely sells. In practice, pile the fucking product the way I told you so customers can move about the store without breaking their fucking legs. I don’t think she was too pleased with me by the end of the night, but I did my job, and needed her to do hers.

T. introduced me to Tucker Max today. She said she’d been reading his book in the airport, and it’s been prompting spontaneous bursts of laughter. Of course, T. being who she is, people stop and question her random giggling. Again, this doesn’t happen to normal people. Anyway, I wasted a good portion of my afternoon reading his site and chortling quietly to myself. Sure, the guy’s a dickwad, but you must respect his honesty in admitting it, no?

That’s about it. Finished buying presents for the boys tonight; I picked up some stuff at the dollar store to round out my gifts. I need to wrap it all and deliver it to Grandma so she can take it up to Sis. Other than that, the only thing I need to do between now and dinner tomorrow night is buy Pretty a gift. Something small, of course, since we’re not technically exchanging birthday gifts, but something sweet nonetheless. That means I get to go to the mall tomorrow. The prospect excites me.

Rufus Rustus Johnson Brown

Rufus Rustus Johnson Brown,
Oh what you gonna do when the rain comes down
Oh what ya gonna do and what ya gonna say
If you can’t pay the rent ’till the rain goes away

C- thats the way it begins
H- is the next letter in
I- you’re in the middle of the word
C- you’ve already heard
K- now you’re roundin’ the bend
E- you’re nearin’ the end
C-H-I-C-K-E-N
That’s the way you spell CHICKEN!

We used to sing that in grade school. Kids in the City got recorders and flutes. We got Rufus. Anyway, something about reading Dooce today reminded me of that song. Perhaps it was the idea of having no money and having no ambition. Which, of course, led me to think of US politics. Meh. Whatever. Don’t try to follow along!

Dooce has a short video clip posted of Sarah Palin discussing “foreign policy credentials” with Katie Couric. Because I don’t have TV – and I certainly wouldn’t vote for her anyway – I’ve never seen Palin speak. Until tonight. I’m 100% sure that given the time and the prep, she speaks well. However, when the only thing you can say to Couric is that “Alaska borders Russia” and you’re using that as your example of your own foreign policy credentials, it’s time to head back to the trees, honey. In fact, near the beginning of the interview, Palin blames “the media” for putting a spin on her comments. What comments? She’s barely strung a sentence together, here!

Dooce opened up her post to comments. I’m on number seventy without a Palin supporter in sight. In fact, one woman commented, “I’d rather wake up on fire than have that woman in office”. Another offered a joke as an example of Palin’s skills. I’m stealing it and posting it here for your enjoyment:

While suturing a cut on the hand of a 75-year old Texas rancher whose hand was caught in a gate while working cattle, the doctor struck up a conversation with the old man. Eventually the topic got around to Sarah Palin and her bid to be a heartbeat away from being President. The old rancher said, ‘Well, ya know, Palin is a post turtle.’

Not being familiar with the term, the doctor asked him what a post turtle was.

The old rancher said, ‘When you’re driving down a country road and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that’s a post turtle.’

The old rancher saw a puzzled look on the doctor’s face, so he continued to explain. ‘You know she didn’t get up there by herself, she doesn’t belong up there, she doesn’t know what to do while she is up there, and you just wonder what kind of dumbass put her up there to begin with.’

Anyway. Enough about poor Palin. I received an email from HR today; my new position at Hell will be effective October 1. I need to make it through a few more days, and then hopefully the old role will cease to be my problem. Worked at CM tonight, too. Actually, “worked” might be a bit of a strong term. I flogged the pooch a lot, and capped the night off by buying gifts for the nephews’ birthdays next weekend. I was going to mail them (hence the urgency in buying them), but I stopped off at Grandma’s on the way home to drop off her (belated) birthday gift from Mom, and she said she’s going north next Wednesday. So I’ll just drop the gifts off to her, and she’ll take them up for me. Handy. And saves me on the postage! Thank God for my discount – $50 worth of gifts ended up costing me just over $30. Can’t complain.

That’s about it. Solidified plans with Johnny and Pretty for dinner on Saturday. I have a few errands I’ll have to complete this weekend, so I suggested a late dinner and they agreed. Now, it’s almost 10:30, and I’d planned on doing Yoga again. But I’m a tad bit stiff and sore from yesterday’s session, and my walk at lunch. Think I’ll go to bed early and read instead.

Peace on Earth

I’m listening to “Life in A Northern Town” again. It’s a quarter to ten, and I’ve sat all night, working on my paint by number. Yes, I know that’s geeky, and no, I don’t mind. I put The Machinist on in the background and watched Christian Bale’s skinny ass go a little more crazy with every passing minute. It was a really good movie; I didn’t “watch” most of it, but still got the gist of it. I think it’s amazing what our minds can trick us into. And the things that it hides from us.

Today was a really busy day at Hell. I sent an email to my new “supervisor” (who is out of the country) and requested a date for my job change. This is the second such email I’ve sent. I can’t keep doing a job and a half. Or, even in my case, three-quarters of a job (my old one) and an entire new role. It’s simply not possible. I cc’ed The Boss, so hopefully I have some kind of response tomorrow. They can’t keep ignoring me. I understand that what they’ve done is slightly…er… fishy, but that’s not my problem, it’s theirs. In the meantime, they need to sort my role out. The Little Man’s office is looking more and more appealing. There are only so many balls I can keep in the air at a time, and they’re starting to hit the ground around me.

I cooked dinner tonight for the first time in three days. The cabbage soup is good, but it’s getting a little old. I put a container of it in the freezer. I think that’s fair, as I pulled out the chili I’d made a month or so ago. Granted, I haven’t eaten any of it, but it strikes me that it was a tad “old” when I put it in the freezer in the first place. I’m afraid it’s bound for the garbage can. Anyway, I made pierogies tonight. And if anyone cares, yes, you can leave pierogies out of the freezer overnight, sitting on top of your freezer, completely by accident, and then refreeze them, without any lasting harm coming to you or the pierogies.

(Speaking of foreign food, K. emailed me today to clarify a point on a project I’d done for him. He’s headed off to Europe for vacation. I’m jealous. I want to go to Europe. Even better to go to Europe with him. )

The Upstairsian is home tonight, stomping around and generally being annoying. I realize that I’m not exactly a lightweight myself, but surely anyone with a hint of conscience or respect for their downstairs neighbour wouldn’t walk like he had cement blocks strapped to his feet.

Last night I did do a yoga program before I went to sleep, and I didn’t even turn on the light or read a book, I went straight to bed. I slept lightly, but woke up feeling much more refreshed than usual. No, I didn’t go for a walk of any kind today, but I intend to do so tomorrow at lunch and even have my shoes out ahead of time. I should really take my running shoes, rather than the slip-ons that I bought for CM, but I refuse to cart around three pairs of shoes – one for walking, one for CM, and one for Hell.

I also got the car washed inside and out tonight on my way home. The Auto Spa has an excellent exterior car wash. I wish they did a better job on the front of the car (Memphis has bug splatters that resist washing), but otherwise, it’s a great car wash, and definitely worth the $10 fee. Today I paid the extra and had them clean the interior as well. About eight teenage boys were in my car. Luckily, not all that the same time; that would an orgy I’d want no part of. They cleaned the mats, vacuumed, washed the windows and windshield, wiped down the dash and generally tidied up. I found the water bottle I thought I’d lost, and they found a lip gloss that I’d definitely figured was gone for good. As Pretty said, that right there saved me $12 on the cost of buying a new one!

And now, it’s almost ten, and it’s time to do my Yoga program again. As relaxing as I find it, it also serves to remind me that short, fat chicks don’t bend well. I’m trying to commit to doing this three or so nights a week, though, so hopefully I get more “bendy” with time.

Good night, Internet.

Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough

For reasons unexplained, I found myself watching Michael Jackson’s “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” video on YouTube tonight. I’m not going to link it, because then your curiosity will overcome your common sense and you’ll click on it and lose four minutes of your life, too. And then you may be inclined to watch the ”Thriller” video, and that’s something like eleven or twelve minutes of your life gone. Not at all like the time you waste reading my blog.

Worked today, both jobs. It’s becoming a real trial to balance both roles at Hell, and I’m dropping a few balls and I’m unable to find the time to do anything about it. I work quite steadily through the day, but it’s very hard to switch gears from my present role to my future one and back again. I went for a walk at lunch to make up for the fact that I didn’t get up this morning when the  alarm went off. “Hello Moto” made its way into my dream, rather than stirring me from slumber. This is the second or third time that it’s happened in a month; usually it’s when Grammar texts me. I don’t fully wake up to realize that the phone has rung at all.

Anyway, I’ve been home since a quarter to ten. Well, I’ve been in front of the PC since then; I might’ve walked in the door a bit sooner. My goal is to do my yoga routine tonight, too. This is exceedingly difficult without a yoga mat. I should do something about that this weekend. It’s like if I write it here, it’ll come true. I’m figuring it’ll help me sleep, and stretch me out a bit. That can’t hurt. At my height, I can use all the stretching I can get. Granted, then I have to expend the effort. My God, yes, I really am that lazy.

AM1 told me today that the head gasket went on her vehicle. It’s costing them in excess of $2500 to replace it. I don’t have that kind of money. Frankly, the vehicle probably isn’t worth that much. I feel badly for her, because I know for sure that she doesn’t have the money. And here I am wondering and worried about whether I should buy a stupid $140 purse? (Ah, yeah, prolly still gonna do that.) Just enjoy it while you can, huh?

All right, I have fifteen minutes left before my self-imposed PC curfew to do yoga. And I have an email left to write before I drag my ass out of this chair. Oh, and my Aunt? Yeah, she agreed that I was basically right (I swear T. totally owes me that tattoo). More important than being right, though, she said I made her feel better.

I’m pondering taking a course in January. I don’t know what I want to take yet (basket-weaving? pottery making? a dance class? singing lessons? something related to work? a language?) but I’m determined to do something for myself that isn’t work, and will help me grow as a person. I should really decide on an avenue, at least, and then investigate the possibilities. Ah, Goals.

Born to Roll

Well, I just finished a lengthy email to my red-headed aunt. She was asking my opinion about our whacked family, and a situation in which she finds herself. She wanted my opinion because I’m the only other one who’s noted that we’re slightly dysfunctional. She sent me a very long email, and I replied with an even longer one back. I tried very politely to tell her to tuck her emotions in her back pocket, and do the right thing, even if it wasn’t necessarily  what she wanted to do, or what she thought was right. I assume that’s why she was asking for MY opinion, though. I tried to balance my emotional side (which is like her) with the practical side that my mother instilled in me. We’ll see how it turns out; I expect she’ll email me back.

Worked with one of the other p/t’ers at CM tonight. She was going to school for dance, when she injured her back. She can’t dance any longer. In fact, she can’t work for more than four hours at a time, and she has to have extremely painful and debilitating shots of some kind. She would have graduated from her dance program this year. I can’t imagine… It’s what she did. She still moves with a certain grace, you can see it in the way she holds her body, she’s still very aware of it. I can’t imagine what I would do if I couldn’t write any longer. If someone came up to me and said, “you, you can only write greeting cards from now on. You’re not permitted to write a blog entry or a short story or an article. No writing instructions at work; you can write only a few sentences at a time, and that’s all!” I would want to die. Tell me I couldn’t write any longer, and I don’t know what I’d do to express myself. And she had her dream taken away from her, and she moved on. That’s a lot of strength, a lot of courage.

I just realized today that I have three paycheques coming up in October. Since I’ve taught myself to live on two (since there was no alternative), I’m not sure what to do with the third one. I envision Christmas presents, and a Christmas tree (The Ex got ours). Or paying off one of my student loans - I could do it! Or paying off Grandma. Or buying a ticket to Arkansas. My fingers tingle… I have a great desire to blow it. Crazy, I know. Completely insane thought. But I’ll do some figuring and maybe give myself a little bit to play with and use the rest responsibly (and yes, I consider Xmas gifts for the family responsible).

And now, it’s 11 p.m., and I need some sleep. I got to sleep around 2:30 or 3 this morning, and we all know how much I love my sleep. I owe my new email buddy a note, but simply don’t have the strengh to write another missive tonight. I’m sending my emotional support to Mexico and Virginia tonight; someone else needs it more than me. Henc

Oh, and it’s Pretty’s birthday. As a present, I promised her I wouldn’t mention ass. Isn’t that so very kind of me?

Fishing in the Dark

I would’ve written a post last night, if there was any possibility that I could see the computer screen without throwing up on it. I woke up around 10 yesterday, after staying awake until two a.m. reading and texting with Grammar. So ten was okay – that was eight hours’ worth. I had a headache, but chalked it up to being kinda warm when I slept. I walked down to the post office and picked up my dress and a card for the happy couple. Came back here, had a bite to eat and a glass of juice, and started getting ready for the wedding. Showered, dressed, that sort of thing.

Picked up Creep and his g/f around two; we had to stand there long enough for them to have a smoke. (*sigh* why didn’t they do that BEFORE we had to leave?) I knew roughly where the wedding was; at least, I knew 90% of the directions because it’s out near where Sis and I used to horseback ride. Unfortunately, every idiot in the world was on the roads yesterday. I could’ve taken some backroads, but it wouldn’t have gotten us there any faster. Once I hit the last road, I knew I could do 120 without a problem… and I did. We got to the farm with about ten minutes to spare. Of course, the wedding didn’t start on time. They never do.

All the chairs (with the exception of a few) were set up in the hot sun, though. That hardly helped the headache. And I started to think I should’ve brought a bottle of water (speaking of, my hard plastic water bottle went for a walk. I have no idea where it is; I think someone stole it off my desk. How bloody retarded is that?). The ceremony was short, and absolutely beautiful. My cousin pledged to protect and cherish his new wife’s two daughters, and it was just the sweetest, kindest thing. The bride arrived, not by casually walking out of the house as her bridesmaids did, not by riding a horse (we were on a farm after all), but by riding up in a boat. It was awesome. My cousin is an avid fisherman, and it clearly surprised him, too. It took three men and a ladder to get her and her dress out of the boat without injury, though.

Between the ceremony and the reception, they did all their pictures, of course. We were all standing around in as much shade as we could find in the back yard. Unfortunately, there were only two bowls of punch, and that went in a jiffy, due to the warm temperatures. My headache was full-bore by this point. We finally got some drinks, I took a second set of Advil for Migraines, and tried to eat some food. It was fantastic – they had beef tenderloin, potatoes, squash, salad… Unfortunately, nothing was sitting well and I ate only a little bit, afraid that I’d disgrace myself by throwing up in the bushes, in full view of the reception tent. After dinner, I hightailed it to the car, where I sat for about forty-five minutes. I missed all the speeches, even fell asleep for a bit, but as soon as I sat back up, the headache came back. I stuck it out until ten, but just couldn’t do it any longer. The flashing lights, the loud music, the smell of the barbecue…

Drove Creep and the g/f home. Luckily, he did as I bid and kept her mostly quiet. When she gets excited, she gets louder. I understand, she’s young, but by God, I was the only one with a license, and I knew if I pulled over to throw up, we’d never get going again. Came home, took off all my clothes literally at the front door, swallowed a Gravol, and went to bed. Creep texted about fifteen minutes later to make sure I got home safe. I think that showed remarkable maturity on his part. He didn’t even mind leaving the wedding early; well, okay, maybe he did, but he didn’t complain about it. I tried to find him an alternate ride with no success. But at least I tried.

Slept in late today; Gravol has that effect on me. Sis stopped by; I gave her the coat that I’d bought at Mark’s Work Warehouse a few months ago (it was only $10). I hadn’t decided if I liked it enough to keep it; I asked her opinion if Mom would like it. She tried it on, and I knew Mom’d never see it. She offered to pay me for it, but for the sake of $10? She’s lost a ton of weight. It wasn’t until I heard other people mention it that I really looked at her, and she has. (Sidebar: isn’t it amazing how we never really look at the people we love? It’s like we have a mental image of them in our heads, and that’s what we go by, regardless of what changes may occur. It’s both sweet and sad, I think.) 

This has furthered my desire to drop some pounds myself. I’m going to goad myself into getting up early and going for a good walk before I go to work. I’m hoping to get up by 6:15, get out the door by 6:30, and be back for 7:30 to get ready for work. If I end up back a bit early, then I can do a short yoga program. This is my goal. That, and to stop eating so much candy. CM is bad for candy.

I got compliments on my top yesterday, as well as my hair. Seems like everyone likes it a bit longer. I’m aiming to grow it about shoulder-length, though I’d be happy with a bob. Carlo said no to the bob. I have to grow it longer because my face is so round. Anyway, I got a lot of compliments on both. And then one of my mom’s cousin’s wives came up and asked where my husband was. I asked if she meant the husband from whom I’d been separated for a year? She got this look on her face… “Oh. Oh. I didn’t know. Oh. I’m so embarrassed.” And well you should be, you interfering whack-job (if you knew the family, you’d understand). Then she proceeded to tell me that I was better off, and that she’d always thought I could do better. I just did as my mother taught me, and smiled, and said thank you, and left as soon as I could. What a bitch. I mean, The Ex isn’t a piece of cake, but she didn’t know the situation, shit, she’d only met The Ex a handful of times; for all she knew, I could’ve cheated on him and he’d left me. This is just a reminder to myself to make as few assumptions as possible about other people’s lives without the details. Especially when it comes to situations like this, where it’s a very personal matter.

Made cabbage soup today (felt like soup, and cabbage sounded good). While cutting a bun to go with dinner, I sliced right through the pad on my ring finger. I knew it was gonna suck as soon as I did it. When you have to pull the knife back out of the wound… I pressed my finger on it right away, and that stopped the worst of the bleeding. I have nothing here as disinfectant except rubbing alcohol, and there is no way in hell I could imagine putting that on a raw cut. I’ll have to pick up some Polysporin tomorrow.

Called AM2 tonight as she requested; she and AM1 had to sit down with The Guy and go over a few points that he needed to work on. I gather he didn’t take too kindly to it. He should really find himself other employment; he needs more than he’s earning now to get ahead. As someone who’s working two jobs, I know that for a fact!

T.’s in Mexico; I swear that I can feel that she’s further away. I don’t know what I mean, I just know that I mean it. I bet I won’t talk to her at all this week, with the time difference. I hope she has a good time.

The Right Stuff

Pretty just left. Yes, it’s midnight. She went to the NKOTB concert last night, hence the lyrics for the title. I can’t get the damn chorus out of my head. Stoopid catchy boyband. I guess now it would be a “manband”, and that’s not nearly as entertaining to say.

Heard from Grammar last night, shortly after I went to bed. He replied to a text I’d sent him around nine. We “chatted” for a while until I gave up and slept. He picked up the conversation this morning at 8:30. He texted me again tonight around 10 or so. It’s been nice.

I didn’t get done any of the things I wanted to do tonight. It’s late, and I should really go to bed. I did get my nails painted (toes and fingers) a beautiful shade of fire-engine red. I think they’ll go quite well with the red top I’m planning to wear to the wedding. I meant to try on the skirt and boots, though, and get everything out and ready, but no such luck. Hell, it’s not my wedding. I guess it doesn’t really matter what I look like. I do still have to pick up a card, though. But I have to go to the post office tomorrow morning and pick up my dress (just in case I do want to wear it!). They closed at six, and thanks to traffic, it took me just over an hour to get home tonight.

K. emailed me to do a quote for him this morning. He sent it over at 10:15. I got it finished just shy of 1 p.m., and ignored a bunch of other stuff to do his request first. I wonder if he realizes that I do that. Probably not. There are a few guys that I go out of my way to rush quotes for, and he’s one of them. Heard from the Jackass today, too. I sent him an email requesting his assistance. I didn’t think it was a matter of any urgency, or I would have called him (as I did yesterday). He responded to my email, then sent me a second email and CC’ed his boss. He asked that if I had an urgent request, I please call him, as he wasn’t always at his desk and able to answer my emails. Fair enough. I don’t know what happened; perhaps the Kindness Fairy came and hit me over the head with Kindness dust, but I replied to his email, CC’ed his boss, and thanked him for his assistance lately. He has been extremely helpful (for him) through the transition period, with the Hungarian and his boss getting laid off. Anyway, the Jackass emailed me back, and said, “I need your support more than you need mine. Please work with me.” And didn’t CC his boss. I thought it was a slap in the face, but sat back and considered that maybe I was taking it the wrong way. No, no, I wasn’t. I had three other people read it, and sure enough, they all came to the same conclusion. He was just being a dick. The Coworker wanted me to send the email to Jackass’ boss. But that doesn’t solve anything. I didn’t bother.

Anyway, Pretty came down, we went and got movies, and picked up food. Then we came back here, ate greasy fast food, watched both movies, ate half a bag of Smart Food, an entire bag of Fuzzy Peaches (way more my fault than hers), and a vowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. Damn…. No wonder my stomach is grumbling.

Need sleep. The wedding is tomorrow!

Leader of Men

Grammar is ignoring me. Frankly, I think it’s weird, but I’m not all that worked up about it. As T. said, it’s like he’s deliberately being weird so I’ll think he’s weird. It’s okay, I think he’s weird already, and he doesn’t need to act weirder. Or perhaps he’s found someone that he wants to actually spent time with, instead of me. That’s cool, but I don’t need to be ignored it. Whatever.

Worked today at Candy Mountain and at Hell. Hell was too busy.  I can’t do two jobs at once, and that’s becoming more and more obvious the more I get into my “new” job.  I’m still plugging away. Perhaps The Boss is waiting for me to complain to her about both roles, and I have no intention of doing that. I’m just going to keep my head down and my mouth shut, and if I don’t get to send out my “friend” emails, well, I know my friends are patient. The new role isn’t hard, but it’s extremely detail-oriented. And it involves a great deal of paperwork. I feel very bad for the trees we’re killing. And I’m sick and tired of walking back and forth between my new coworker’s desk and my old desk, when the desk in front of her is sitting there empty… But in time. I know The Boss is trying to make things as unobtrusive as possible.

There’s trouble at CM with The Guy and AM2. They’re butting heads, and really, The Guy has no weight to throw around, so he’s better off keeping his mouth shut and his head down. Unfortunately, he seems incapable of doing that. It’s going to land him in trouble. Well, he is in trouble. There’s a meeting planned with him, AM1, and AM2 tomorrow. I’m interested in seeing how it turns out. Of course, I know nothing. *sigh* That is what I should get tattooed on myself. “I know nothing”.

Speaking of, my tattoo date is coming up. I’m nervous and excited and wondering if I picked the right design, and at the same time, I know that it’s a good design, and it will (har har) grow on me, in any case. It’s not obscene or vile or even inappropriate in any way. It’s a piece of art, and I can’t see myself being fifty or sixty and regretting getting this one.

I had a football encounter tonight. One of the guys who came into CM a few weeks ago and bought a train set for his son came back in today. I asked him about his ring, and he rather bashfully admitted that it was a pro football ring. I can only assume it was a Grey Cup ring. He said he’d played pro football (CFL) for the Cats. He was cute before… that news made him drop-dead gorgeous. lol. Unfortunately, the only information I can find online (using the name on his Visa slip) is that he shares my alma mater. Ups the attraction factor, of course, but sorta limits my bragging ability. Well, he’s married, no doubt, and he has a cute little son.

But in sad news, Ron Lancaster passed away. You said “football” and “Hamilton”, and he’s the man you thought of. He was a quarterback who passed for 50,000 yards, got himself a spot in the Canadian Football Hall of Fame (which, incidentally, is in Hamilton), and lead the TiCats to their last Grey Cup in 1999, after losing it in 1998. And even after he was dismissed as Head Coach, he stayed with the organization. Unfortunately, lung cancer took him. RIP, Ron.

That’s Why God Made Mexico

Today I rammed my thumb while loadig my laundry into the trunk. I think this was God’s way of telling me that I should’ve found something to do other than laundry tonight, but I just had to tell him, God, I’m flat-out running out of clean underwear, Man. I’ve worn all of the ones I got from Vicky’s Secret, and I’m going to have to resort to the Zellers stash if I don’t go to the laundromat.” And God? He folded his hands and placed his chin on them and sighed. But my mound of Venus (what? that’s what the pad of your thumb is sometimes called!) is still swollen and typing hurts.

There was a cute boy at the laundromat, but I think he was a few years younger than me, since he was studying. Had a nice car, though, smoked (bad), and wore socks and sandals (also bad). Nice eye candy.

Just got finished reading Dooce, and she was talking about a video that she had watched. I agree with her – it’s a “Charlie” video – either you’re going to find it hilarious or you’re not. “I’m a furious magician, Spencer!”

Went to the mall and returned those boots today. On my way back out, I stopped in at Suzy Shier and found a sweater to go over the corset top. Now I only have to decide between the black skirt or the blank pants, and I’m all set for the wedding. I’m leaning towards the pants, though now I’m also wondering how long the skirt is, exactly, and if I could get away with the skirt and my boots, which would be an alternative to freezing my imaginary female gonads off. I did go to Guess to look for the purse, fully intent on buying it, but that location didn’t have it. Karma, perhaps? Someone stepping in and saying, “hey, you said you were going to review your bank account before you made this completely frivolous purchase!” Now I have no choice. *sigh*

Hell’s been rather busy, lately. Working the two jobs is a real pain in the ass, but The Boss is saying hopefully everything will be straightened out next week. At least, that’s what she’s telling everyone (except me, for some odd reason). Spoke with the Little Man again today, briefly. He’s headed out of town tomorrow morning, so I guess I can expect not to hear from him for about a week. In the meantime, I’m learning my new role and finding little time for screwing off, which is odd, given that the past three months have been rather bland. Can’t complain, my new coworker is in over her head, trying to do her work and my (future) work, so I need to step up, and I think I am.

I have clothes to put away, and I want to go to bed early one night this week. I start at nine a.m. now instead of eight thirty, which is great. But I find myself going to bed at eleven thirty and reading until midnight, and that’s rather counter-productive, when you add in the Upstairsian and the guy with the loud car. Tomorrow’s another day.