I've just discovered that Windows

I've just discovered that Windows Media Player has a counter--it tracks how many times you've listened to every song on every album or playlist. Gave me a slight chuckle, until I realized that I need some new cd's. Here, another list:

1.) Weezer's "Island In The Sun"--81 times.
2.) Massive Attack's "Protection"--72 times.
3.) Britney Spears' "I'm a Slave 4 U"--52 times. In three weeks. I have a problem.
4.) Fiona Apple, "Love Ridden"--a close tie for third, 51 times. I love me some jailbait.
5.) The Ramones, "I Wanna Be Sedated"--42 times. Feel free to make your own jokes, thanks.

Yeah. Gotta get new CD's for work. I'd listen to Spinner all day like Boy does, but the stupid firewall at work won't allow it. Stupid stupid firewall. Who could love such a stupid firewall?? Heh.

Things I Already Miss About

Things I Already Miss About Vacationing In Flowida--A List:

+Having nothing to do but eat, sleep, and go to Disney World. And read my book! I read a lot on this trip.
+Wearing linen in November.
+tiny, good-natured lizards everywhere.
+Pirates of the Caribbean (arrgh!)
+Giordano's, Boston Market, Krispy Kreme with no lines at ALL those fools, Kobe, and Checkers, to say nothing of the SuperTarget.

Things That I'm Crushingly Glad To Partake Of, Now That We're Home--Another List:
+loud, loud sex.
+refreshingly crisp and cool tap water. And decent water pressure.
+turtleneck sweaters.
+email. weblogging. computers. All of the above, as they seem rare in Flowida.
+Work. Having something to do. A diverse economy.
+freezing cold rain, first thing in the morning, dripping down the neck of my sweater. No, not really. But it's a nice change from 85 and sunny every. single. day.
+feeling the holiday spirit--it was very disorienting for me, seeing houses decorated with twinkling lights and miniature reindeer when it felt like July weather to me.

Fell asleep last night at

Fell asleep last night at 7pm, didn't wake up until 7 this morning. Dead, dead sleep. And a dream about work, where everyone I work with here had been a camp counselor with me here...and there was a lot of latex involved. Verra weird.

And now, work, which is overwhelming at the moment. Several fires to put out, inbox to finish sifting through, and stuff to catch up on. You'll have to wait a wee bit longer for my Trip Journal Extravaganza. Heh. Okay, not exactly an extravaganza--I wasn't very good at keeping a paper journal.

Must work. I'll try getting the first section transcribed at lunch or something. No, shit--I've got a lunch meeting. Well, tonight then--Boy and I are staying home and snuggling, dammit. Awake-snuggling. And going to sleep at a normal hour.

I have returned, mostly unscathed.

I have returned, mostly unscathed. So very exhausted, though--we had a 4am departure time this morning (from the grandparents' house, not the flight, sillyheads.) so we just didn't bother going to sleep. Flight left at 7am on the dot after two hours of waiting in line after line (gee, don't we all just love flying Southwest? bleargh.), and I could barely sleep a wink.

Needless to say, I'm running low on fuel. And patience. I'm having a verra difficult time adjusting to this roommate-business. We came home this afternoon to the remnants of a party--and while I'm not usually averse to finding dregs of Bombay Sapphire in pretty blue bottles...I'm slightly irked about the mess, and the dog hair on the sofa. Grr.

Eyes closing, though. So. Tired. I shall return later, perhaps, with all manner of goodies.

Oh! Sheesh. One more thing:

Oh! Sheesh. One more thing: I've joined the Topics Blog, an endlessly useful resource for webloggers and journallers--check out the link button on the sidebar! I've posted once there, and will certainly post more when I return.

And NOW, I go.

I've returned from the mountains,

I've returned from the mountains, where Thanksgiving was splendid. (aside from the drive up, that is. Nervewracking. And incredibly tense, to boot.) We arrived late-ish on Wednesday night, and I was up first thing yesterday morning to get things rolling--pies made and in the oven by 830, turkey in the oven at 1030, and the list. went. on. It was great, Mom and I working like a well-oiled machine (okay, that's a lie. But we were so fucking organized for two people who can't keep anything organized, heh.). Dinner was on the table by 345, thanks were given by 4, and we weren't done with dinner until 730. Now that's a meal. Turkey and mashed potatoes and chile verde and gravy and cranberry-orange dressing and the best damned sweet potato pie and dessert! Pumpkin pie and pecan pie and ice cream and hot, dark coffee...

I'm going into another tryptophan coma just thinking about it.

And then, home to our little cozy house, where roommate and girlfriend made brownies (heh. it amuses me to watch people try to cook with no basic knowlege. They run into problems and bow to my superior kitchen intellect, muahahahahaha!) while Boy and I packed (him: twelve seconds. me: hour and a half.).

We are ready. For anything. I think. I hope! I'm sure that there are things I'm forgetting, but c'est la vie, n'est pas? Besides--contrary to popular belief, there are stores in Florida. I'll buy anything I need.

...But not Today! It's International Buy Nothing Day--and I'll be doing my best to keep up the spirit. Though I can see some trouble with that idea already: I still need to buy a couple books for the trip, which I'll probably end up doing at the airport at this rate. Also, we're going to need food at some point--I mean food other than the Raisinets and pretzels I bought the other night. So. Maybe today will be Buy A Couple Little Somethings And Nothing Else Day for me. Heh.

---

Dad's picking us up for the airport in an hour. Boy is not yet awake. More to be nervous about.

---

I most likely won't be posting while we're gone. Boy is taking his laptop, but all we'll have access to is dial-up--so don't expect to hear much until November 29th (that's next Thursday, folks). I'll be keeping a paper journal (gotta get my fix), and will likely transcribe parts here for posterity.

So. Very. Nervous. I think that's what I'll call my travel journal, heh. I'll be fine, I promise. I just need more action, all I've done for the last two months since we got our tickets is wait. And we all know how much I need my instant gratification. I'm ready to go.

---

Okay. This is it. Don't get scared, now.

Have a lovely rest of holiday-weekend, American readers. Have a lovely weekend-weekend, International Readers. And if you need your Ferra fix, there's always the archives. Be good, be patient--I shall return, tanned and relaxed and ready for the holidays.

Though it won't be terribly

Though it won't be terribly amusing, I need to write these lists down somewhere:

To Do:

+Pack. And quickly.
+get two extra dressers moved from upstairs to...somewhere. Anybody need a 4-drawer bureau? It's a nice Art Nouveau piece in light maple that could use a shine, and it's been in my family since the 30's...but I guess it's just time for it to go. Anyway, you can let me know if you're interested.
+finish all the little work projects that have been on my desk all week.
+2 more pies for Thanksgiving.
+buy caramel sauce on the way up to the cabin, or there will be no pecan pie goodness.
+eat pie with coworkers. Yay! I brought an extra pie in to work today, and everyone is duly appreciative.
+buy books and snacks for hellishly long flight on friday.
+start eating better--carrot cake for lunch one day, pumpkin pie and poptarts for breakfast the next is BAD.

and to make myself feel better...

Done, so stop worrying:

+Laundry. almost. Maybe one more little load.
+ironing. Completely done. No more. Forget it.
+Dad's pie.
+roommate moved in, rent paid. Definitely stop worrying.
+christmas presents ordered ages ago have finally arrived. Let the giving season commence.
+finished building the kitchen, bathrooms, conservatory, dining room, and garden paradise for my new Sims house. Now it's just the discotheque, bedrooms, etc. Nice, eh?
+Thank our owners for closing the office on both Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. I fucking love this company.

And now, time to get the little projects done.

Boy's on his way to

Boy's on his way to pick me up. Let the packing madness commence.

One can only imagine how

One can only imagine how dead the office will be tomorrow--it's almost entirely empty already.

Lucky ducks. I can't wait for this vacation. I'm starting to get a little jump in my stomach.

I'm having olfactory halucinations--I swear

I'm having olfactory halucinations--I swear to gawd I just smelled pot.

I know that I didn't, because we're not THAT relaxed around here (though from the constant strains of reggae in the air, you might think otherwise)--is this an acid flashback? 'Cause, you know, there was that one time in highschool where someone put acid in my soda.

Um. Yeah.

I reiterate: It's a good thing I don't do more drugs.

Also, I've done some serious

Also, I've done some serious thinking about what I'd like for my domain name--I think I've got it narrowed down to two choices that are both very appropriate, just need to decide between the two of them. And then the whimsical section of my brain says 'get www.patienceisnotavirtue.com!' But y'all would hate typing that, wouldn't you. I would.

Anyway, decisions to be made.

Just finished writing up our

Just finished writing up our Rental Agreement/lease-thing, and it's made me start thinking about all the years I spent working for lawfirms.

Ugh.

Wish I hadn't let my Notary Public-thing lapse, though--now I've got to take this to my mother to get Notarized.

I'm eating carrot cake from

I'm eating carrot cake from the Cheesecake Factory for lunch, so next time I complain about my ass feeling fat, feel free to smack me a good one.

In case you haven't noticed--I've

In case you haven't noticed--I've changed the lists on the sidebar a slight bit--added a few new favorites, deleted the blogs that have become tiresome and/or boring. Enjoy.

This is already the slowest

This is already the slowest day on earth.

I'm starting to feel the pressure of this situation--we leave tomorrow straight from work to meet the fam at the cabin for Thanksgiving day, spend wednesday night there, all day Thursday, return thursday evening sated and full of goodness, tryptophan coursing through our veins--which means I'd better pack for Florida tonight. What to pack!? I have yet to look at weather reports, for fear of hearing something that may dampen my wavering enthusiasm. Remind me to leave my boxcutter at home.

Another coworker is leaving for the holiday as well--she's one of those people with a completely irrational and paralyzing fear of flying, which is why she's got a running prescription for Zanax. I understand a slight bit of irrationability when it comes to air travel, in light of (god, how i hate this phrase) recent events--I've got some of it myself, just an inkling, adding to my apprehension over this trip. However, I still recognize how silly it is--I know the statistics, and I know the physics, and I have faith, still, in flight. There are better things to worry about than minute chances for tragedy.

---

New roommate moved in last night, in a whirlwind of boxes and burly brothers carrying furniture. Boy helped, but I was already in my PJ's, so I hid in the office playing Hot Date. They're lovely people, the new roommate and his girlfriend--but it was startling, waking up to noise coming from upstairs. I'm also going to have to start remembering to put my bathrobe on before heading towards the shower.

---

Perhaps you'll notice I'm a good deal less peppy than I was in yesterday's last post--I think it's a hormone thing, as I'm unexpectedly surfing the crimson tide. Curse Mother Nature and her whims. I got very irritable last night--nothing was keeping me entertained, nothing was funny after a while--Then again, that was a really boring episode of Boston Public. Also, the nerves. And a jam-packed schedule between now and friday. I've got five pies to make in the next three days, which won't be difficult, just time consuming. Actually, only two to make tonight, and then three to make on wednesday night after we've already arrived at the cabin. Lucky for us, mother and illustrious stepfather went up on Sunday to clean and get groceries settled, so we won't have to do it, yay! And then they discover that the microwave has gone kaput, with no warning. Although you'd think close to fifteen years of use would be warning enough.

---

I've figured out what to get for my family this year for xmas--I've been worried, as it's going to be a budget xmas for me, the first in a while. I'm going to Paint'n Place, where I know the owner--she'll give me a discount--and making a set of personalized dinner plates to add to the collection of serving dishes I've made for my parents over the year. I figure if I do that, and maybe a little something for each of them individually, I'll be set. I got a little extravagant last year--but I was still living the wild crazy single life, having champagne and cocktail olives for dinner and buying shoes that define egregious consumerism. Heh, I was also seeing Steve, possibly the biggest waste of time in my entire dating career (no, that'd be Brian--an entire year of my life spent waiting for him to admit he was gay, and also waiting for him to apologize for being a fuckwad. Ugh.) At least it was only about four or five weeks spent with Steve--I'd be kicking myself if it had been any longer. I was kicking myself, regardless--he was the infamous pie-plate thief (I can hear mom and Boy already--"would you just shut up about the damned pie pan?? You've got a new one that's ten times better!" to which I reply, yes, but it's such a story.), and he got me hooked on Soul Calibur. Him and his...ass face!

I saw him again, several months ago--Blondie and I were coming home from a grrls nite out, driving down the Ave past his shithole apartment, and there he was--stumbling drunk, falling out of a cab.

Please refrain from reminding me what poor taste I had in men, I was an impressionable young thing. And he had a fucking sexy motorbike.

---

Still no idea what to get Boy--he keeps directing me to his wishlist, but I'm still torn with indecision. On one hand, there are the things I know he reeeally wants--the iPod in particular--but they're most certainly out of my budget. And then, there are the things I can afford, but I don't think he wants as much. Dilemma!

---

Writing this has taken a good solid hour of poking around--I suppose I should do things. Boss-lady's out, though, and one coworker (along with eight people from the neighboring department--it's a deadzone, this floor), so I'm not feeling much motivation to get this done. I think I'm going to sleep in tomorrow, come in around nine instead of my usual 8 am. That means I can stay up a little late tonight and...iron. And pack. And get things ready.

Another nice cozy evening at

Another nice cozy evening at home--I puttered and got dinner ready (a standard around these parts--poke-chops, mashers and fresh green beans, which keeps us both happy, one way or another), Boy came home and pinched my butt-fat (you know, that little jiggly bit?), and we reaffirmed that we're the most disgustingly happy couple on earth.

Not to rub it in.

And now, an anticipatory evening, waiting for the new roommate to show up with the first load of stuff, though it promises to be less than he'd planned--he's going to use some of our furniture that was already up there, which makes our lives easier.

In fact, everything is going really well right now (knockonwood). I hate to vocalize it, because that's when stuff goes wrong--but really, it's going great. Work is great for both of us, our relationship is practically perfect in every way (thanks, Mary Poppins), and now we've got the roommate-thing ironed out---makes me feel bad, being this happy. It shouldn't! I know it shouldn't, because I've had hard knocks like lots of people--but we've got friends and family who haven't had the best year, despite some of our best efforts to help.

Speaking of helping--my neighborhood grocery is doing a wonderful thing this year--instead of just having a big barrel at the front of the store where you can donate canned goods and such for needy families, they've made up these big packages! It's a grocery bag full of canned goods and other less-perishable things, all for $5, so convenient! I bought two today, and haven't stopped feeling good about it since. It's a great idea, too--they've got a few displayed at each checkstand, and I saw four other people buy them after I did--it was a big philanthropy chain, heh. made my evening.

The butt-fat pinching made my evening, too. I just luff it when he does that.

Man, this is waaaayyy too...smug. Peppy. Chirpy, almost. *gag* Enough! Time to go rip Boy's clothing off and ravage his sexay-sexay boo-tay.

After the new roommate comes over, of course. Wouldn't want him walking in on that, at least not right while he's moving in. We'll give him a few weeks to acclimate, heh.

Also: This time next week

Also: This time next week we'll be basking in the central floridian...weather, whatever it may be. When my family was there last week, it was pleasantly hot--but I suspect it will be crappy and rainy and without cheerful sunshine, as would be fitting for my first serious vacation in years. Years.

I'm looking forward to it anyway, regardless of weather.

Ooh, I'm regretting my decision

Ooh, I'm regretting my decision to postpone my eye exam--I thought I'd be brilliant and wait until I got my holiday bonus before spending that much moolah--but now my head, it hurts, with an unexpected intensity. It's definitely better than it was before I got my monitor reset, but ouch. This is one of those times where being pig-headed is not as asset.

...then again, I'm hard-pressed to think of a time when being pig-headed is an asset, but I digress.

I have a lunch meeting today--I was somehow elected to the department's Holiday Luncheon Planning Committee during our big weekly meeting last week...I think it's because I brought Honeyhole sandwiches into the office, and one of the supervisors fell in love with them, bless her heart. But having sandwiches delivered for thirty people is a little outside our budget, I think.

meeting now.

Several things that are very

Several things that are very important, so a Note To Self real quick: Roommate, Hot Date, Elimidate dream, Harry Potter, thanksgiving.

Okay. Weekend Update to commence in T-minus ...

Friday!

We ditched all the plans we had for some us-time, which involved heading to Best Buy to play with X-Box (I was summarily unimpressed) and purchase Hot Date! which has me all in a tizzy--It's almost overwhelming! So many choices. You know how I am with lots of options, I get all nervous that I'll pick the wrong thing, I need boxes and constraints! (heh, so *that's* why I get such a kick out of bondage...) All of this followed by fajeetas for din-aire, and a nice cozy evening watching Drop Dead Gorgeous. Oh, and there was naked time in there somewhere, though we were yet again rudely interrupted by the arrival of my well-meaning brothers--they've really got to start calling before they come over.

Saturday...

I got up extra-early on Saturday to hit my company's Warehouse Sale with Mom--she spent almost $200 for close to a thousand dollars (retail) in clothing, filling three huge bulging bags--pretty impressive. Obviously, I've learned from the best, heh. I was amazed at my restraint--2 shirts, a pair of pants and some swim trunks for Boy--and he liked almost all of them (except for the one shirt I thought he'd like. Ah, well.)

And then, Harry Potter.

If only I hadn't had such high expectations. If only it hadn't been two and a half hours long. If only we hadn't been sitting in the world's most uncomfortable movie chairs.

I was slightly disappointed with it, I'm sad to say--but I've got high hopes for the next one still. If only they teach that boy to act. Looking like Harry Potter is only going to get him so far, you know.

And then, after an afternoon where nothing felt right, everyone off-kilter--the best news we've had in ages:

We. Have. A. Roommate!

How exciting is that, huh? Terribly exciting. More to come on that.

...aaand we rounded off the evening with an appearance at a birthday party being thrown by a work-friend of Boy's...whereupon I was coerced into flashing several digital cameras--Damn that Loree! If she hadn't, I wouldn't have, either. Ah, well. There were only a few of Boy's coworkers there...Heh.

Sunday

...was much more relaxing. Early morning diddling while Boy slept peacefully beside me, followed by banana nut muffins fresh from the oven, and an appearance by the new roommate and his family, then dinner with dad and evil-soon-to-be-stepmother as thanks for Dad's handywork earlier in the day--he put our new phone-shelf-thing up for us, and puttered around with Boy while I gently prodded at Hot Date--as suspected, WindowsXP + Maxis = not good.

All of this brings us to today, where I am ferociously....not working. I'm eating crackers again (no comments about my genes!), and waiting for the day to end. It's a long one already, and I foresee lots of blogging. You've hit the jackpot.

Much much much good news.

Much much much good news.

but so so tired am i. this shall have to wait until morning, when I am refreshed and coherent and not stinking of par-tay.

okay, I think the headache

okay, I think the headache has subsided. However, I'm feeling uncreative after spending the last three hours editing sales books. So for your reading pleasure: Heather's Friday Five! (with my answers. duh.)

1. Name five things in your refrigerator: Orange soda, chocolate milk, regular milk, pickles and bacon. That's about it, because Boy and I shop like six year olds.

2. Name five things in your freezer: Ice cream, frozen pizzas for when we're lazy, ice...maybe a four year old can of frozen limeade? I know that there's more than just this crap, because the thing always seems so damned full.

3. Name five things under your kitchen sink: gel detergent, garbage and recycling bins, jimmy hoffa, a million dollars in small, unmarked, non-seqeuntial bills, and a fire extinguisher. Just in case.

4. Name five things around your computer: webcam, laundry baskets, big phatty candle with three wicks for when I'm feeling dramatic, sims sims sims, and too damned many cables.

5. How do you plan to spend your weekend? I believe we covered that?

---

Those questions aren't very interesting. I can't believe that meme has actually spread. Ah well, more useless information about me.

And that's what this weblog is all about, me me meeeee.

---

work beckons, because there's only another twenty minutes of it. Yay!

Grr, headache is back! And

Grr, headache is back! And I had such grand plans for getting Boy dirty-naked before going out tonight. Nothing like that freshly-fucked glow when you're going out to get puke-faced.

I know, i know, sex is supposed to make headaches go away--but I don't feel like moving, much less moving a lot--we've been having fairly loud headboard-banging sex lately.

But I have a feeling the headboard would do less banging if Boy would tighten all the joints on the bed.

And now, it's Friday. I

And now, it's Friday.

I feel stressed about this weekend (quelle surprise, I've been stressed about everything lately, yes?) before it's even started, but I think it's a good stress. Stress of the very-full-social-calendar sort. Wanna know how it goes?

Tonight: Boy's friend Walker has some photo exhibition-thing in Greenwood, from which I will dash up to B-way/Capitol Hill for Allistair & Mac's birthday party at Charlie's, though depending on number of attendees (I think they're at 22 or 23 people right now) the party might get moved to the Bad Juju Lounge, which would be far more entertaining.

Tomorrow: We've got the warehouse sale at 8am sharp with Mom and Boy, and it's in Auburn (*shudder*), so we'll be up extra-early to drive down there in time to get at the good stuff. Then, it's home to get ready for Harry Potter with the family, and most likely dinner afterwards, before...damn, I forget. Something.

Sunday: I've got a date with an angel! Wait, no--she's far too devilish to be an angel. Anyway, coffee date with a fox from Nerve, which promises to be entertaining.

---

See why I'm stressed? And here is the part of the entry where you all tell me to just shut up and be thankful that I'm popular.

Even if it's only being popular with my mom. and Boy. *shrug* Good enough for me.

---

I have just eaten the coldest banana on earth. That's what I get for leaving it in the car overnight.

Don't ask questions, just accept my word as gospel.

---

Oh! We had someone come look at the house last night! He seems like a perfect fit--easy-going, funny, works for Starbucks Corporate so he prolly won't welsh on bills...and his girlfriend is a hottie, heh.

Amusing moment--

Potential Roommate: It's so nice to see a place that's not, y'know, some swinger's place...
Me and Boy: *sideways glances and much snickering* Nah, we're not swingers.
My Internal Monologue: Silly boy, we're polyamorous! heh.
Potential Roommate: ...you know, pizza boxes everywhere, beer cans, ashtrays...
Me and Boy: Oh! That kind of swinger...

/end scene

Heh. Also amusing was when he asked us how we met...double-heh.

---

And now, some work-things until my first meeting. I shall return, though, in full blogging-force!

In unrelated-to-sammiches news, my head

In unrelated-to-sammiches news, my head has almost completely stopped hurting since Beb's brilliant suggestion--get Larry the IS Guy to change my monitor settings from the v. evil 60Hz to the better-even-despite-no-visible-to-naked-eye-changes 85Hz. Thanks, Beb! You're the bestest.

please please please let us

please please please let us make it through the afternoon without dying, dying I tell you, we're so full of sammich-y goodness and potato salad and soda after our honeyhole party *groan*

Longest meeting of my life

Longest meeting of my life today, but it wiped out the entire first half of what had promised to be a fairly useless day, so I'll stop complaining. Currently, we are ordering sandwiches from the famed Honeyhole Sammich-Place, to be delivered! How lovely is that? Very.

Also, you'll all be proud to hear that I've made my appointment with the opthamologist for next Tuesday morning before work--I hope they don't have to dilate my eyes! Do they still do that? I remember that from my youth, and to this day retain a distinct fear of putting any sort of drops in my eyes.

I found out I've got fairly good vision coverage, too--80% of my office visit is covered, with $125 towards frames/lenses...that is good, right? Hope so.

...

So, last night--We saw K-Pax, which was a really long Kevin Spacey music-video. Lots of flashing lights and knowing smiles etc. I don't think I laughed out loud more than once--a little snicker, really, not a laugh--and I didn't cry, either...Hmm. Still not quite sure what to make of that.

I have to say--next time I suggest popcorn as dinner, Boy had better veto.

What if I was Romeo

What if I was Romeo in black jeans?

...

I'd prolly have some esplainin' to do, that's what.

Well, it's officially raining. For

Well, it's officially raining. For three days now, it's been raining. Really, really wet rain. The rain gods have said, fuck that drizzle shizzit--it's time to fuckin' pour.

Long, long, long longlonglonglonglonglong (you get it now?) day at work. I could go into it, but you'd get even more bored and stop reading and then I'd stop feeling validated and sink into a spiral of pathetic self-absorption.

You know, more than usual.

Anyway, I think the fog is lifting. We now return to our regularly scheduled blabbing.

...

No no, later Boy's taking me to a movie! On a weeknight!

Reblogger fixed? Cate posted a

Reblogger fixed? Cate posted a comment...

Headache: I've resigned myself to

Headache: I've resigned myself to going to the optometrist. I'll end up looking silly in glasses, and I have visions (ha, that's funny) of turning back into the awkward twelve year old with the big, thick, pink-rimmed glasses. (for the uninformed, I wore glasses from ages 2 to 12, and then all of a sudden, I didn't need them anymore. And ten years later, that has changed.) Conor has accused me of being biased against glasses-wearing dorks--how can I be when I was one myself? heh.

Work: I still don't want to talk about it.

I don't have anything nice

I don't have anything nice to say right now, so I'm saying nothing.

It's mostly the headache. Sort of work, too, but I don't feel like talking about it.

I feel like I've been making excuses for my crappy attitude for weeks now. I'd apologize--but this is still my journal, my weblog. I'm always glad to keep y'all entertained--but I come first here.

Perhaps more excuses and explanations later.

I've had to change the

I've had to change the settings on my desktop from the completely reasonable 1024x768 to the inferior 800x600. I feel like a big blind dork. When did this happen? I swear to god, I could see just fine last week.

I bet it was that night when I tried reading my book by candlelight. Stupid me, I'm not 15 anymore!

...

Ahh, back to 1024x768. I'll just have to suffer. I don't want glasses, I'll look like a dork!

Ten minutes after nine, and

Ten minutes after nine, and work is dead dead dead. Which leaves me an hour to kill before my first meeting of the day--sorry, not a meeting. This one's a seminar, which is even more delightful.

...

Boy started working on his weblog last night--I can't wait until he's finished so I can read his brain like he does mine. Sometimes I forget that all of my thoughts and wishes aren't transparent to him. I'm pretty good at getting my point across, but I guess some stuff falls through the cracks.

...

I was very productive this morning--got up when the alarm went off, headed straight to the shower after getting the iron ready, ironed my shirt, and got to the bus stop right on time--not too early, not too late (that was yesterday, ugh. Of course, I wouldn't have been late if my dumb car hadn't been running out of gas. Oh, wait, no. It was my fault that the car was running out of gas. I've got to stop placing blame on the machine--it can't defend itself. So very very sad.). The ironing was a big accomplishment, too--if I had the choice, I'd just dryclean every single bit of clothing I own. I think my panties could use some starch, don't you? heh. Anyway, if I could, drycleaning--but it's the budgeting thing. Drycleaning panties is forced lower down the list than broadband. And, you know, eating.

Also this morning--I started reading a book that Boy ordered. I thought I'd give it a shot, since illustrious stepfather was so convinced that nanotech would be a good career path for me to follow (despite my complete and utter lack of interest and requisite skills). I was going cross-eyed on the bus trying to read this, and it had nothing to do with needing glasses. This book was just deathly boring. Well-written, yes. But reading was soon abandoned in favor of making faces at a well-behaved toddler across the aisle.

[despair] I'm never ever going to grow up! [/despair]

Last night I had this

Last night I had this exceedingly vivid dream about...grocery shopping.

I was buying things that I'd normally never buy--candied pineapple for fruitcake, lunchables, Ziploc containers in sizes I'd never need (who actually uses that rilly big one?? That's what tupperware is for.)--and some stuff I always buy--lemons, milk, 409--and my mother was there, telling me how disappointed my stepfather was that I didn't go to Dartmouth.

Bleckk. I get enough of this in waking life--must I dream it, too?

And thus, for every wacky, freakishly bizarre sex-crazed dream--there are at least three of these dreams that are barely distinguishable from daily life, heh.

Home now, and slightly early--bosslady

Home now, and slightly early--bosslady wasn't pleased, but what can you do? head was killing me, and with nothing of any import needing my attention, why on earth should I stay? So home, after seeing my mother, safely home from Orlando--did I mention the fam met Boy's mother and brothers? Ack! I'm slightly jealous--they got to meet them before I do.

Oh--only eleven days before we leave for Florida. I was slightly amused to find that no fewer than four pals are going to be down there at roughly the same time--we can barely all get our schedules to mesh when we're here in Seattle. Allistair says drily, "We have to take vacations to manage dinner together," to which I chuckle slightly.

Big plans already for the trip--along with the requisite grandparent-time, we've now got Boy's mother, brothers, aunt, cousins, and old highschool friends to see as well--and those are the intimidating ones.

My brothers called me at work today when they got home from the airport--they wanted to know if we had any old pictures of Boy here to compare to the ones they saw at Boy's mother's house, heh.

...

Enough, my poor tired head can't take any more screen-looking. That's the problem, you know--I need to get reading glasses, I think. The first sign of my descent towards the infirmities of age, sigh!

Like every other person on

Like every other person on the planet, I woke up groaning about having to go to work early on a Monday morning when all kinds of people get the day off in this country to honor our nation's veterans (dad, grandpa, uncle, uncle and seventeen cousins or so)...

But it all seems to pale in comparison to this.

Illustrious stepfather is in New York today, though of course the possibility of him being on a plane to the Dominican Republic are nil--he's supposed to be on his way to New Hampshire, but who knows, right?

...

Waffles are being made in our office. I was supposed to bring my heart-shaped waffle iron, but forgot to retrieve it from my mother's house, so I brought Krispy Kremes instead. and I'm never going back to that place. The novelty has worn off, after the forever we spent in line yesterday. I tried to keep myself amused with crayons and paper and eyebrow-plucking, but I still ended up bored except for the few romantic interludes Boy and I shared. Nothing like making out in front of a bazillion strangers.

Meg's Daily Question is about Mothers--here's what I wrote about mine:

Mom has just turned 50, and she's my best friend. She's been in univeristy for almost as long as I've been alive--we even took a class together my third year. I was mortified at the time, being all of seventeen, and sitting next to my mother in HUM433. She's amazing, that woman--she adopts pets and kids and the elderly, is an expert sail-maker, was a model when she married my father the sailor-turned-baseball-player, can navigate the Pacific as well as she does Nordstroms, and never let us kids forget that we are the absolute most important part of her world. I want to be her when I grow up, selfless and good--but until then, I'll just adore her.

...

I just want to curl up into a little ball and stop thinking. I'm sure it would help my headache.

ReBlogger is broken. Send comments

ReBlogger is broken. Send comments here for now, until I have time to fix them.

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Monday + early mornings = suuuuhck. I don't remember the last time I wanted to stay in bed this badly.

excerpted from an email to

excerpted from an email to a relative stranger:

"Morning has broooo-ken...and so has my washing machine..."

Yes, I broke the washer. Stupid me and my...washing. I don't know what did it, but that last load I did on Wednesday or so made the washer smoke and squeal (which, as we know, are NOT things that washing machines are supposed to do. Unless they're unruly teenage washers, rebelling against the Maytag Establishment. They're not going to let The Fat Man keep them in line!). Our landlord (heh, dad doesn't much like it when I call him that. He says it's disrespectful. I saw we're all better off being called "landlord"--people give me funny looks when I call him "My Father--The Arsehead") was supposed to have called a repair-person (I'm hoping it's a chick, whee!), but I've a definite feeling he hasn't done it. Which means I've got to drive all my laundry down the street today and do it at his house, watch his teevee, eat his food, play with his cats...

Speaking of cats (in a general sense, let's not give them any more ammunition than we already have), they appeared in last night's Feature Dream:

Then the Psd to HTML or PSD to CSS conversion is carried out by hard coding the image to fit into HTML frames or layers

I had for some reason convinced Boy to let me have dinner with Ex--and then bring him back to the house we lived in, which was huge, to spend the night (not like doing-it spending the night, it was just so that he didn't have to drive home). So the time comes for me to meet Ex at the restaurant, but I still hadn't left home--Boy and I were arguing over which bedroom Ex should have to sleep in--Boy didn't want him in his favorite guest room (we had several, and they all had rilly rilly big bathtubs in them), so I compromised and put him in the room down the hall from ours. Anyway, I show up for dinner an hour late, Ex had already eaten and finished two bottles of my favorite wine--with some blonde floozy from the bar! *gasp* I was pissed. Especially since he'd finished the only two bottles the restaurant had. So I bring him back to the house, he goes to sleep--after confessing that he spent over $500 to get to that restaurant--and the next morning, his sister shows up at our house looking for him. Apparently they wereng a feed and tack store, and she needed him to shear some sheep. So I go to wake him up, and he's got forty kittens in his bed--not sex-kittens...like...kittens. Freak.--and some miniature sheep, all little and fluffy and kitten-sized. He gathers up all the kittens and sheep and puts them in a big bag, slings it over his shoulder, and walks out to meet his sister in his underwear.

But I got to keep a kitten. (There's the "speaking of cats..." connection. Sorry, that took forever.)

We walk outside, his sister's waiting, Boy is pissed. as. hell. (as you'd imagine he'd be, right?), and my neighbor suddenly has a dog that looks just like James' dog, Jasper. Big ears and everything.

I don't remember anything else. But man, that was the most detailed dream I've had since...Tuesday? heh.

...

Tuesday, I had my first distinct dream of the future, and it's been weighing on my mind ever since. I'd half-way decided to just let it go, forget about it--but then last night we watched The Cider House Rules, which left me looking like one big limp, sodden mess. After it was over, Boy says, "that was sad," and I agreed--every single minute of that movie was sad. I started crying thirty seconds after theng credits had rolled, and I didn't stop for two solid hours.

So this dream. Boy and I were old and married and lived in a little house, little lives, gray hair and wrinkles abounding--knock at the door, Iit to find two young men, twins, standing there on the porch. They'd come to ask me why I did that, why didn't I keep my babies, why didn't I love them, they love me and I tried closing the door but they pushed through and followed me through the house and Boy had disappeared, I sat on the floor in the kitchen and cried and cried and cried until the two young men looked at eachother, looked and me, and walked out the back door.

And i've been thinking about it ever since, who wouldn't? That movie last night certainly didn't help in the least--it only exacerbated the whole mess. Boston Public on monday wasn't helpful, either.

...

Ehh. Enough.

...

This morning has been beautiful, in a very cold, calmly crisp way. Summer mornings on the lake are always cheerful and warm, with boats dragging waterskiiers at first light--but these winter mornings are sexily quiet. The only person we'll see on waterskis for the next seven months is that lunatic who dresses up like Santa Claus and flies around the perimeter of the lake (at least, the north end of it) on Christmas Day. When we were young, my brother and I were certain that he was the real Santa--and on Easter, we'd wait to see a bunny on waterskis. There was no Easter Bunny! If the Easter Bunny had been real, he would have shown up on skis, just like Santa.

This is a good place to grow up.

I've been spending a few minutes every day on the end of the dock, usually right when I get home--it's still light enough to appreciate then--just...looking. Every single day, it's a new sky--new combination of colors, textures--same with the sunrises that I've been awake early enough to see. The water has been remarkably clear, too--it helps that the water level has dropped a good two feet in depth. I can see all the play-jewelry resting on the bottom, right where I threw it four months ago--Kid Sis loves "diving for treasure". It'll still be there next summer--but she won't be here to retrieve it.

...

Enough rambling, too. I've been up for two hours already, and I have much to accomplish this weekend.

Stats from the IS Luncheon

Stats from the IS Luncheon

Number of times I've heard the word "functionality": 8.

Number of PowerPoint presentations: 3.

Number of times I wanted to throw myself head-first out our fifth-floor window: inestimable.

Twenty minutes before lunch with

Twenty minutes before lunch with the IS department. Guess how excited I am: That's right, not at all. I've spent all day helping a couple girls in CS with a presentation they're doing for the luncheon--hopefully this will express just. how. necessary it is that IS responds quickly to CS issues--I'm sick of hearing them bitch when their computers "don't work right" and their phones "aren't ringing" and their printer "smells funny" and their chairs "aren't tall enough" and the blue paper "isn't the right shade of blue" and the intercom "is annoying" and they don't "have any friends"...pretty soon, you're going to find them living in a van down by the river!

Heh. Chris Farley, we miss you so.

I'm preparing for this stupid catered luncheon by...having lunch. I don't trust those guys, with their cell phones and pagers and PDA's dangling off their belts, latté's in hand.

(that was more than one kind of bitter right there, sorry.)

...

Wasn't Survivor a blast last night? I almost fell on the floor laughing at the goat-herding attempts. When Clarence picked those two goats up and started running, it was just too much--the look of absolute terror on the faces of the goats, and the Masai tribesmen trying to hide their amusement...Very entertaining.

I was quite the domestic goddess last night--I baked a chicken for dinner, and I think it turned out fairly well. I did the patented Jamie Oliver trick and stuffed the breast-skin with butter-rosemary-garlic mush, and it kept the white meat nice and tender--the lemon in the cavity is great, too. Jamie Oliver, I love you!

No, I don't love Jamie Oliver. I love that Tyler-guy on Food 911. Hawwtt.

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I've got to tone it down with the hawwttie-hawt stuff. I was walking from my car to the bus stop this morning and got all freaked out because this truckload of guys rubbernecked and whistled when they drove by--I was outraged! (mostly because I'm dressed like a scrub today, fools) ...but I'm certainly guilty of the same offense myself. Except for the whistling. I can't whistle. It's very very sad.

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Time to mingle. Yeesh.

Overheard at work today: "I'm

Overheard at work today: "I'm an eggnog fiend!"

Overheard at the Neptune theatre last Saturday night: "Oh, I just love sauces. Anything with sauce is great"

Overheard on the bus this morning between two older gentleman--one, an aging vet on his way to the VA; the other, a businessman of approximately the same generation: "*vague mumbling*...What's that?" "*mumble mumble*...Ehh??"

Well, I'm sure there were words, but I was busy with my book. It's positively enthralling, I tell you--makes me want to have been there, in the thick of things. And also, it makes me want to jump Steve's crazy bones.

Hey, what's that Blondie song

Hey, what's that Blondie song that Debbie sings in french?

I know...I'm being a bad

I know...I'm being a bad blogger. Seriously, though, I've been a busy busy bee with work. But keep in mind that there are STILL lots of links from my sidebar to pursue...and there's a new Onion this week...And as soon as things slow down at work, I'll be back to blogging in full force!

Excuses, excuses.

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I'm wearing my new chunky maryjanes today--although that stupid insecure part of my brain says they make my feet look like they belong to Frankenstein's monster. Or maybe Frankenstein's Monster's Goth-y Daughter, I don't know. They just feel big, and they make me extra tall, which would be a good thing if I was hanging out with the fam right now (being the short one at 5'7, of course)...but they've just left for a few days in Florida--some Cruising World conference, in preparation for their trip--and left me aaaaall alone. (here's where my grandmother--not the evil one--chimes in "You poor little orphan, abandoned by your family blah blah blah")

So, their trip. I've been coming to grips with it over the last few days, and do you know why? A little birdie told me that a particular Supreme Court Justice will be stepping down from the Court near the end of next year--which would mean that the next appointee (*ahem*, that would be illustrious stepfather, for those of you who are just now joining us) would...you know, have to be here. Not gallivanting about the globe.

Point being: They'd have to cut their trip short! If illustrious stepfather had to step up around December of 2002, that would mean they could do the Atlantic Crossing, see our old haunts (i.e. visit the places we've already lived in Europe), just in time for me and Boy to join them in Spain around October (mom's birthday, of course), and then come home, buy new furniture, and live happily ever in their castle in the sky!

Okay, it's a cabin, not a castle, and it's in the mountains, which is practically the sky.

Okay, not so much a cabin as a five-bedroom house. Whaddev.

Anyway, as far as I'm concerned--the sooner that Justice steps down from the bench, the better.

And now, for something completely different: More work. Ha! I slay me.

this time, no popcorn to

this time, no popcorn to make things better. Dumdums instead!

Although the freak in me starts humming LL Cool J every time I have a dumdum or a Tootsie pop or whatever...

"I want a girl with extensions in her hair
Bamboo earrings
At least two pair
A Fendi bag and a bad attitude
That's all I need to get me in a good mood
She can walk with a switch and talk with street slang
I love it when a woman is scared to do her thing
Standing at the bus stop sucking on a lollipop
Once she gets pumping its hard to make the hottie stop
She likes to dance to the rap jam
She sweet as brown sugar with the candied yams
Honey coated complexion
Using Camay
Lets hear it for the girl she's from around the way

CHORUS
I need an around the way girl
Around the way girl
That's the one for me
She don't love him
(You got me shook)
I need an around the way girl
An around the way girl
Fine as can be
(Oooh you love me)
She oh yea
I need an around the way girl
Around the way girl
That's the one for me
The only one for me
I need an around the way girl
An around the way girl
Fine as can be
(You got me shook up shook down shook out on your loving)
(You got me shook up shook down shook out)"

...

*I* need a round the way girl.

Evidence of the Perils of

Evidence of the Perils of Eating Lunch While Working: I just accidentally consumed the World's Largest Baked Potato. I purchased said potato, noted tremendous size, and decided that I'd only eat half--but started doing work while I was eating it. Half an hour later, I'm going to explode from potato overdose.

ralph.

If I didn't make that

If I didn't make that clear enough for y'all--I'm the one who has to make all the damned flowcharts. Lovely.

Well, if that's all she needs to keep her happy, then I'm happy, too.

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Anxiously awaiting election results--apparently the mayoral race is dependant on those damned absentee ballots, so we've got another couple days to wait. If my candidate doesn't win, I will cry my big, brown eyes out. boohoo.

On Monday, I demonstrated my

On Monday, I demonstrated my natural flow-chart-making abilities to my boss...

And now there are no less than seven separate projects that she has deemed in need of at least one flow chart apiece.

I have conquered the bastard

I have conquered the bastard pecan pie. It's absolutely perfect. I hope.

I Have Issues: In the Baking section of the grocery store, they sell pecans (both halved and chopped) in 8oz. bags for $8, or 2oz. bags for $4, which is injustice enough. But in the Natural Foods/Bulk section, pecans are something like $5 a pound.

Packaged Pecans: $16 for a pound (that's two 8oz. bags, folks) OR if you're dumb, $32/lb. (if they're out of the big bags and you have to buy all the little ones)

Bulk Pecans: $7 for a pound and a half.

Sheesh.

...

Work is still nuts. More blog later. Promise.

Gotta go do my part

Gotta go do my part as a proud (?) American and vote.

I love voting! seriously. Love it. meh. running late.

fresh popcorn makes it all

fresh popcorn makes it all better.

Best course of action for

Best course of action for me this afternoon: Headphones, Dvorak, and no verbal communication, because it's times like these when I let slip the stuff that freaks the coworkers, poor things.

What times, you ask? I'm just all out of sorts--I'm hungry but not, tired and wired, focused and distracted. The hypochondriac in me is convinced I have Adult-Onset ADD.

I can't concentrate long enough to finish even a single coherent thought. Stupid mid-day slump.

It's always when I say

It's always when I say things like "I'm going to take a little break" that I end up throwing myself into whatever I'm breaking from.

Ergo, I blog.

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I'm having a salad today for lunch, and I should have had one yesterday instead of the soup that I almost splashed on my favorite creamy-luxe turtleneck sweater. Today I'm wearing a nice, drab, charcoal-colored turtleneck that could have hidden the potential soup-splash if need be...but it just didn't work out that way.

Obnoxious Coworker says today, "What's with you and turtlenecks??", because apparently wearing them two days in a row in November is positively unheard of.

I respond with, "It's to hide the whip marks and hickeys" (which, of course, it is not for, but it makes her squirm.)

(it's to hide the bite marks and bruises from being choked during some really good fight-sex.)

(no, that's a joke, too. I've got nothing to hide.)

This is, obviously, the same coworker who asked me if I was really reading Cigar Aficianado (it's only for the articles, I swear--not the ads with beautiful supermodels pretending to suck on a big, fat...Havana. Hello, Freud? Yes, it's me and my phallic obsession, here for an hour of observation.).

Also, this is the same coworker who said she "doesn't do Halloween, it's a tool of Satan," and then proceeded to join us when we Trick-or-Treated through HR.

Ah, well. Working with me will be a nice exercise in tolerance (and patience) for her.

...

There are six of us in this office listening to the new Britney Album right now, Thank You Windows Media Player. Kimmie bought it this morning at seven a.m. (obsess much?), and we've all copied it by now. I've also copied onto my hard drive all of the cd's that I'd been keeping at work--I got tired of lugging them back and forth from home. This is much more convenient. Now, if we could only find a way to share those files...

On this new album, Britney covered Joan Jett's 1981 anthem (and my favoritest song in the world), "I Love Rock 'n' Roll". She's a bad-ass, that Britney. She and her pansy-ass boyfriend both are.

It's amusing. Did I mention that I've got her plastered across my screen as desktop wallpaper? She's wearing this fat-elvis suit, all gold lamé and rhinestones and studded capes a-flyin'. I'll admit--I can't wait for the fall to relative obscurity and subsequent appearance in skin mags (preferrably Hustler.), but that shouldn't be much of a surprise. She's just dirty-hawt enough to be my type.

Are you? ... My results?

Are you?

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My results?

"68 points is in the 51 through 80 percent
You are a dedicated weblogger. You post frequently because you enjoy weblogging a lot, yet you still manage to have a social life. You're the best kind of weblogger. Way to go!"

Yay! I'm the best kind of weblogger! (via our benevolent sponsor.)

My interest in posting to

My interest in posting to my weblog is waning, but it's merely temporary. It's a direct effect of being really productive at work this week, I just. don't. have. time. And then I get home from work and house-things--and Boy, of course--take up my remaining four hours before going to bed.

There just are not enough hours in the day. I don't know how my mother does it, really.

Well, no, I do--she only works three or four hours a day, heh. Yesterday was a ten-hour day for me, and it hit me harder than I thought it would, especially since I followed it up with an evening of cleaning kitchen, bathroom, three loads of laundry to wash and dry on top of about six loads that I'd already done but not folded or put away, changing the bed, picking up remnants of halloween...Which sent me to bed rather grumpy, poor Boy. I explained to him that it's not the actual housework that bothers me--I honestly don't mind doing it all (except vacuuming, no vacuuming for me)--it's when I let it pile up, forcing me to spend a big chunk of not-at-work time doing it. I like being on top of things (heheh), yes? It's better for me if I spend a quick twenty minutes after I get home picking up, wiping counters, folding a quick load.

But alas, there are just so many things at home to distract me! Computers and TiVo and books and food and bathtubs full of lovely scented water, and hottubs full of blistering-hot water...Ah, well. I just need to be more disciplined.

Anyway, just a quick explanation: I haven't stopped loving you. I just don't have time for this kind of relationship right now. I'll be back, I promise, as soon as things settle down. You know, back in the same capacity. For now, you won't see too much of me, just sporadic posting.

Heh.

No, sillies--we're not leaving for

No, sillies--we're not leaving for Florida until the day after Thanksgiving, so there's nothing to worry about. I will be voting in this election, come hell or high water.

(High water being more likely, given the generally stormy state of weather-affaires and our proximity to the thrashing of waves upon the shores of Lake Washington. Hell would be warmer and less windy, I'd think.)

So, you've got another...seventeen days of my mindless blogging to keep you entertained. While you productive people write your novels.

I should have written the damned thing while I was unemployed. Stupid me, all that shopping and lunching.

My brain has reached work-saturation point--nothing else is going to stick until I've had food and sex and sleep. I moved some cheese today for my boss, though--taught her to make boxes and arrows in a word document, and she was greatly pleased with my ability to do so. She'll be greatly pleased tomorrow as well, when I teach her to do it again. O God of Patience, I serve you well.

It's been a fairly good day, though, for a monday. I finally got my ergonomic keyboard at work, so hopefully my wrists will stop hurting soon. Also, I've had a nice assortment of things to do--the days when I'm faced with a single, dragging task gooo soooo slooooowwww.

...

Now, a couple projects to finish before Boy picks me up.

Lush cream cowl-neck sweater +

Lush cream cowl-neck sweater + tomato soup for lunch = asking for trouble. I just hope i can manage to avoid spills and splashes during this hasty lunchtime update. Let's start with...

Friday:

Though there had been hints of Krispy Kreme delivery coming from Mommy Dearest, she did not follow through (/sarcasm: sheesh. You'd think she had a job or a husband or kids or something. /end sarcasm.)--which meant that I had to leave work early and head out to the Issaquah-boondocks to get them myself. 40 minutes, my wait. many many dozens of donuts were purchased and distributed among the lucky masses: Boy's office, my mother (a reward of two dozen for her faithless quest), neighbors, strangers...and ourselves. I ate three (donuts, not dozen) on the way home--I don't think I even chewed the first two, just swallowed them whole. They were just. that. good. Near-religious experience, I swear. I made my pilgrimage, sacrificed that which was most sacred to me, paid homage, and was given my holy reward.

Or: Drove all the way to Issaquah, waited in line for close to an hour, paid forty bucks, and got my damned donuts. On the drive back to civilisation (btw, whose dumbfuck idea was it to put the sole Krispy Kreme location way the hell out there? No one wants to go to Issaquah!), I started feeling like I hadn't gotten my money's worth--I wanted something more visible as a reward, instead of a passenger seat full of donut boxes. I wanted a medal, or a crown, or a bumper sticker that said "I Have Dozens Of Krispy Kremes Right Here And You Can't Have Any".

I settled for donuts and the praise of Boy's coworkers, who were impressed by just how great his loving girlfriend is to him, heh.

After finishing my donut-delivery, I headed home to a quick dinner with Boy before heading out with Blondie and Morgan, the afore-mentioned birthday boy. While I had great intentions of having a couple drinks and then heading home, things didn't quite pan out that way. $70, two cab rides, and six hours later, I stumbled home to my most darling (and patient and understanding) Boy, who tucked me nicely into bed.

Five hours later, the phone rang, and sleep was gone, done, nevermore. And that'll bring us nicely into...

Saturday:

Why yes, I felt fine on Saturday, with the exception of not getting enough sleep. Boy and I lounged all day, being lovey-dovey and getting naked and eating donuts in bed until it was time to make ourselves presentable and head to dinner with Dave and Q, and that new Coen Bros. movie after. Which I slept through. And snored through.

Quelle embarassment.

Sunday, of course, brought l'hangover extraordinaire, which subsided after the vomiting was finished. A few more hours of laziness, a grilled cheese sammich, and Monsters Inc. made my Sunday perfect, and the dream I had last night didn't distract from perfection in the least...

...

Okay, I can't remember it now. It'll come back in hazy bits and pieces, I'm sure.

...

Some news that will make you, dear reader, sad: I've decided to postpone the novel until after we return from Florida, since it's unlikely that I'd manage to pump out 1600 words a day while we're down there. In fact, it's unlikely that I'll even touch a computer, I've decided. No email, no blogging, nothing! You'll all have to manage without me for an entire SIX DAYS. Start preparing now.

And that, my friends, is all I have time to churn out right now--work isn't crazy-hectic-busy, but i've got things to do to keep my bosslady impressed.

I've got plenty to talk

I've got plenty to talk about--and not enough time in which to do so. Promise promise promise I'll get to it by this afternoon. Promise!

Aaaaaaand...two days later, it hits

Aaaaaaand...two days later, it hits me.

The hangover, I mean, and it's in keeping with almost every single hangover I've ever had in my absolutely miserable, pitiful, useless life *sob*.

Blondie and I took an old friend out on Friday for his 21-run. And now I think I'm going to die. I was pretty much just fine yesterday, despite a distinct lack of sleep--and now, I'm going to die. barf barf barf. ugh.

There is SO much to talk about from this weekend, too--my religious donut-experience is only a small part.

It'll all have to wait while I purge my system of the evil foul no-good yeller-bellied liquor. barf.

Exciting news: There is a

Exciting news: There is a very definite possibility that Mother Dear will be bringing me three dozen Krispy Kremes on her way home.

One dozen to take home to Boy (shh, it's a surprise. ... Oh wait, no it's not.), and two dozen to placate the angry mob known as coworkers.

Already, the holiday season is doing bad things to my thighs. (technically, it's my ass, but the phrase "does bad things to my ass" brings to mind all manner of naughtiness. Let's stick with thighs.)

Any day that begins with

Any day that begins with pumpkin pie for breakfast is a day with much promise.

And a fine pumpkin pie it was, too--I made it last night when I was avoiding work on the novel. (does not bode well for this experiment if I'm already practicing avoidance.) I had intentions of bringing it to work today to share with coworkers, but then I came to my senses. If I brought it to work, there would be none left at home for breakfast tomorrow! And what better way to spend saturday morning than eating pie for breakfast? heh.

...

I'll tell you a better bloody way to spend it--eating those damned donuts that everyone is waiting in mile-long lines for. Insanity, I tell you.

Incredibly busy with work--and for

Incredibly busy with work--and for the most part, it feels good. Kind of frantic, though.

Interesting coincidence: I was in

Interesting coincidence: I was in our copy/lunch room a few moments ago, and picked up the latest issue of Cigar Aficianado for brief moment of no-brain-activity (you didn't really think I was serious, did you?).

Obnoxious coworker walks in, notices my reading material: "You're not actually reading that, are you?"
Me, with scathing glance in her direction: "Actually, I'm using this to shield my innocent and virginal eyes from the copy machine's hideous visage."
Obnoxious coworker, with obvious discomfort: *finishes business in silence, scurries away*

/end scene.

It's the little things that keep me amused.

Hey, I almost forgot--today's a

Hey, I almost forgot--today's a binary day! yay! binary!

I've decided that even though

I've decided that even though I'm too late to register for Nanowrimoyayadabo, I've decided to try my hand at it anyway. Just to see if I can. So if the blogging gets thin, you'll know why. I might, from time to time, post snippets of the novel, ask for suggestions, poll y'all for your opinions--to no avail, of course, because none of you fuckers ever give me any feedback (except for the six of you who emailed me asking why the hell I'd vote for Sidran, and now you all know why).

Don't expect brilliance. This is merely to challenge myself. I'm going to hit 1700 words a day--a daunting task, but doable--every day, for thirty days. If I'm proactive, I'll write extra bits on weekends to allow for some leeway on weekdays.

This is exciting.

My thoughts exactly. I do

My thoughts exactly.

I do feel a slight bit of sympathy for whoever performed that search--they were looking for answers to eternal questions, perhaps some spiritual guidance--and they got me.