The Tuesdays, they just keep coming! They're coming out of the WALLS, man! This isn't happening - game over, man, game OVER!
Okay, I'm being a little dramatic. But it does sort of seem like it was JUST Tuesday. You know, like 6 days ago.
So that means it's time to whoop it up again! Grab the fugly button, type out a blabbering post, and then leave your link in the comments! BECAUSE I AM SO DONE WITH MR. LINKY. I'm too fucking old to be giving people 3rd and 4th chances, y'know? We'll just kick it old-school, we're awesome like that.
Are you seated comfortably? Then let's begin.
I don't have any wine left and I don't feel like drinking vodka (I know, right? I checked - I'm not running a fever). So I made a chocolate cake to compensate. But no icing. Because I'm a health nut.
Today sucked at work and tomorrow will suck twice as much (because I work twice as many hours). The office manager, who is one of those people who somehow does like 3 jobs and is the lynchpin of the operation, is out with pneumonia. She's a lovely person and does a great job but the woman is a fucking ninja. She hoards information, she leaves no paper trail. So nobody can do her job in her absence because we don't know where anything is, which clients have been told what, or what product is hiding where.
We get it, lady - you're indispensable. Now get over yourself and write shit down!
Ninja Office Managers - might make a good YouTube video but otherwise not all they cracked up to be.
Happiness is a warm chocolate cake.
What does that even mean, "all they cracked up to be"? That phrase doesn't make any sense.
Search strings by which people found this blog (and sometimes even stayed to read):
"Chick finds random nerd and fucks him"
"Do mangos have a funny smell"
"How to electrify my existing chainlink fence"
"My small dog is leaking my legs and I wonder is normal because I don't feel well when he does"
"skinny girls drink pee"
....and a LOT of people with an Oedipus complex.
Like, really. A LOT.
I'm not sure which is more depressing, that there are so many people who want to screw their own mother or that I could maybe get skinny if I could stoop to drinking my own urine.
After stating yesterday that I could run, MAXIMUM, for 12 minutes on the treadmill, today I ran 13.5. I went to the gym with Fashionista, who, after I had announced my marathon intentions, gave me a perplexed look and said,
"But you don't trust people who run."
This is true. I've often made that statement. Now, however, I'm going to amend it to "I don't trust people who ENJOY running". Because even if I manage 10k without killing myself, I will NEVER be convinced that it's enjoyable.
It's that, or admit to some serious psychological issues. I don't have the money to fix those, so I'll just adjust my blanket statements accordingly.
That's like the first time in over a month that I've seen Fashionista. I miss her. We used to breathe each other's air practically 24-7, but then we got busy. Then I had a kid and got REALLY busy. And wondered how the hell I ever thought I was busy BEFORE. Now she's pregnant with her first and says she's busy a lot, and it's all I can do to refrain from saying, "Oh, you think you're busy NOW?". Because I don't want to be that person. Even though I am totally that person, but I remember being the OTHER kind of person. The no-kids-thinks-she's-busy kind.
Anyway, she'll find out eventually.
I'll probably never see her again.
After specifically taking a day off work last week to plant my garden, thinking I was leaving it too late and omg what if nothing grows, it's supposed to FREEZE tonight. IN JUNE.
I fucking hate this province.
So now I have to go out and put old sheets over my garden beds, like they're having a nap or something (maybe I should leave them an alarm clock? Set it for July, when it might be warm?), except I don't have any old sheets, so I just have to use our regular ones and pretend the reason they're dirty is because I suck at laundry.
Which, coincidentally, is entirely believable.
(columbian drug lord accent)Once, there was a mouse. I keeled him. He had a little friend. I keeled his little friend, too. They will keep coming, and I will keel them all. There will be no more mousie friends, there will only be me. So run, leetle mousies. Run. (/columbian drug lord accent)
Aaaannnnddd, that's a wrap, people! Great work! Hand in your assignments, don't dawdle, and we'll see you all next week!
(Don't forget to leave your link in the comments so we can all visit you. And Mr. Linky? If you're out there? Eff you, man. Eff you.)