'Cause really?
Monday is a spiteful bitch. And to honour that bitch, here's another math problem:
Question:
If a veggie sandwich is eaten on a train going 60 mph at approx. 9 pm, and the mayo that was used on said sandwich was "off" {read: rancid}, and the consumer of said sandwich has no Gravol left, what will happen when her stomach realizes this at approx. 1 am?
Answer:
You seriously do not want to know.
Shakes a weak fist-in-air at the injustice. Damn you, Monday, damn you!
Monday, May 28, 2007
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Alive isn't just a movie....
Me: Boy, this rice is delicious. What did you put in it?
Boy: Tomato, onion, garlic, oregano, cumin, cor....
Me: {totally cutting him off} Did you just say human?
Boy: {sighing and looking plaintively at me, with pity. Or something} Yes, yes I did, Andrea. That's what gives it the extra kick.
I ate his liver, with some fava beans & a nice Chianti.
Boy: Tomato, onion, garlic, oregano, cumin, cor....
Me: {totally cutting him off} Did you just say human?
Boy: {sighing and looking plaintively at me, with pity. Or something} Yes, yes I did, Andrea. That's what gives it the extra kick.
I ate his liver, with some fava beans & a nice Chianti.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Big Girls don't cry...
They get even.
Due to the boo-hiss-ness of the "death of the Kia" {cue appropriately sombre music}, I once again availed of the train to London this morning at almost noon o'clock. I had woken up at something ugly like 2:53 am, for no apparent reason, other than Jesus? He clearly doesn't love me. And also? This starting work at 6 am lark is conspiring to alter my internal alarm clock, which is happy to go off sometime around 7 pm. This information actually isn't really pertinent, save for the fact that despite the 2.5 hour journey and the opportunity for sleep that it provided, I was desperately trying to stay conscious. Because? With my luck? I would fall asleep somewhere around Cow-Poo-Ville {which Boy informs me is called Ingersoll} & snooze right through to Windsor.
Anyhow.
I was a-minding my own business, reading a novel, listening to some music & aimlessly gazing out the window at the fields of green. I foolishly ordered a cup of tea {I never learn} & once again, narrowly avoided scalding myself due to all the bumpies that started around St. Mary's. There was a middle-aged couple sitting across from me, & as I'm inclined to do when I'm bored, I decided to people-watch. He was thin & mustached & jokey, content to complete his crossword puzzle and eat a scrumptious looking blueberry muffin that I had to physically restrain myself from snatching out of his fingers. She, on the other hand. Oh, She. If "Unhappy" went missing, her face would be on the milk cartons. She was, ummm, large. In the no-neck, boobs-resting-on-knees, looks-like-she-was-smuggling-a-third-world-nation-in-her-pantaloons, kind of large.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
It was the fact that when I smiled and asked them for the time, & her husband answered me, she glared at me. And kind of snarled. And then! When a very polite small child, sitting in the seat in front of her, exclaimed in delight to his father, "A moo cow, daddy! A moo cow!", she gave him a look that comperatively would have made Cruella da Ville look like a supporter of PETA. She kept blowing her nose, which sounded like an elephant with the trots, & THEN! Dropped the Kleenexes on the floor!!!!!
So, all around, not someone I wanted to give a great big hug to.
Finally, the train pulled into London, as the rain spitooned off the windows and I stood up, with my headphones on {but this is key: the music was OFF as I had been listening out for the conductor's station announcement}, & went to walk down the aisle to collect my overnight bag.
As I proceeded to walk past her, she turned to her husband & said, loudly:
"I don't think her tits are real".
And then stared right at the Girls.
The fucking audacity. And also? A woman my mom's age just said the word "tits". It would have been classier to say "fun-bags".
*sighs*
And so I replied:
"As real as your belly, bitch".
And head up high, walked off the train.
Cause nobody puts Boobies in the corner.
Due to the boo-hiss-ness of the "death of the Kia" {cue appropriately sombre music}, I once again availed of the train to London this morning at almost noon o'clock. I had woken up at something ugly like 2:53 am, for no apparent reason, other than Jesus? He clearly doesn't love me. And also? This starting work at 6 am lark is conspiring to alter my internal alarm clock, which is happy to go off sometime around 7 pm. This information actually isn't really pertinent, save for the fact that despite the 2.5 hour journey and the opportunity for sleep that it provided, I was desperately trying to stay conscious. Because? With my luck? I would fall asleep somewhere around Cow-Poo-Ville {which Boy informs me is called Ingersoll} & snooze right through to Windsor.
Anyhow.
I was a-minding my own business, reading a novel, listening to some music & aimlessly gazing out the window at the fields of green. I foolishly ordered a cup of tea {I never learn} & once again, narrowly avoided scalding myself due to all the bumpies that started around St. Mary's. There was a middle-aged couple sitting across from me, & as I'm inclined to do when I'm bored, I decided to people-watch. He was thin & mustached & jokey, content to complete his crossword puzzle and eat a scrumptious looking blueberry muffin that I had to physically restrain myself from snatching out of his fingers. She, on the other hand. Oh, She. If "Unhappy" went missing, her face would be on the milk cartons. She was, ummm, large. In the no-neck, boobs-resting-on-knees, looks-like-she-was-smuggling-a-third-world-nation-in-her-pantaloons, kind of large.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
It was the fact that when I smiled and asked them for the time, & her husband answered me, she glared at me. And kind of snarled. And then! When a very polite small child, sitting in the seat in front of her, exclaimed in delight to his father, "A moo cow, daddy! A moo cow!", she gave him a look that comperatively would have made Cruella da Ville look like a supporter of PETA. She kept blowing her nose, which sounded like an elephant with the trots, & THEN! Dropped the Kleenexes on the floor!!!!!
So, all around, not someone I wanted to give a great big hug to.
Finally, the train pulled into London, as the rain spitooned off the windows and I stood up, with my headphones on {but this is key: the music was OFF as I had been listening out for the conductor's station announcement}, & went to walk down the aisle to collect my overnight bag.
As I proceeded to walk past her, she turned to her husband & said, loudly:
"I don't think her tits are real".
And then stared right at the Girls.
The fucking audacity. And also? A woman my mom's age just said the word "tits". It would have been classier to say "fun-bags".
*sighs*
And so I replied:
"As real as your belly, bitch".
And head up high, walked off the train.
Cause nobody puts Boobies in the corner.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Biting my tongue.....
What I actually said:
"Sir, the balance of the invoice is in excess of $3000. Kindly make a payment or we cannot continue to service your account".
What I wanted to say:
"Dear Asshat! Pay your damn bill. Love, The Management".
'Cause I'm all about the customer service.
"Sir, the balance of the invoice is in excess of $3000. Kindly make a payment or we cannot continue to service your account".
What I wanted to say:
"Dear Asshat! Pay your damn bill. Love, The Management".
'Cause I'm all about the customer service.
Behold the classy....
A statement emitted from my seat-mate on the train last Sunday night at late o'clock.
As she took her shoes off.
And put her, umm, "fragrantly" odoriferous feet up on the flip-down tray.
As I held my breath.
And glared a hole through her patchouli scented soul.
And reflected on the fact that patchouli and "feet" are smells that make me want to throw up a little in my mouth. Especially when they are combined into a horrific conglomeration of ewwww.
But I digress.
*ahem*
"It sure is a cryin' shame that I can't watch mah stories tonight. Now where did I done put mah Fritos?".
Yup, she said "mah" not "my".
And then launched into an hour long diatribe on the merits of the show "Passions" and how her life has been touched by the "troubles" that the characters go through. As though she knew them. Personally.
As I perfected the smile and nod technique and contemplated the relative merits of poking myself in the ear drums with the stir stick from my tea.
As she took her shoes off.
And put her, umm, "fragrantly" odoriferous feet up on the flip-down tray.
As I held my breath.
And glared a hole through her patchouli scented soul.
And reflected on the fact that patchouli and "feet" are smells that make me want to throw up a little in my mouth. Especially when they are combined into a horrific conglomeration of ewwww.
But I digress.
*ahem*
"It sure is a cryin' shame that I can't watch mah stories tonight. Now where did I done put mah Fritos?".
Yup, she said "mah" not "my".
And then launched into an hour long diatribe on the merits of the show "Passions" and how her life has been touched by the "troubles" that the characters go through. As though she knew them. Personally.
As I perfected the smile and nod technique and contemplated the relative merits of poking myself in the ear drums with the stir stick from my tea.
Monday, May 21, 2007
On why I am not ready to be a parent.
Or own a plant.
It is difficult to maintain that you a self-sufficient, mature adult when the Boy points out, in baffled astonishment, that when you are really, REALLY sleepy, you suck your thumb.
And when you try to deny this, he glances down, and although he says nothing, you know that he is looking at the stuffed animal that you are clutching like a life preserver.
The stuffed animal that you insisted on calling "Tow Truck" to immortalize your adventures on Saturday night.
The stuffed animal that you insist HE refers to as "Tow Truck" as well.
Yeah, I'm totally a grown-up. Now where DID I put my blankie?
It is difficult to maintain that you a self-sufficient, mature adult when the Boy points out, in baffled astonishment, that when you are really, REALLY sleepy, you suck your thumb.
And when you try to deny this, he glances down, and although he says nothing, you know that he is looking at the stuffed animal that you are clutching like a life preserver.
The stuffed animal that you insisted on calling "Tow Truck" to immortalize your adventures on Saturday night.
The stuffed animal that you insist HE refers to as "Tow Truck" as well.
Yeah, I'm totally a grown-up. Now where DID I put my blankie?
Sunday, May 20, 2007
A series of hypothesis statements....
Based upon a day at Canada's Wonderland.
1. If you wish to get your face painted, then you might be forced to contemplate what you will look like with a negative image of flowers burned onto your skin by the sun.
2. If your sunscreen has glitter in it, then chances are, it is a shitty sunscreen and you will end up with a third degree burn.
3. If you wear a halter top, with a spaghetti tank top underneath, and a long beaded necklace, with matching wrist cuffs, then your tan lines will look as though a pre-school aged child started a "paint-by-numbers" picture with only two colours (a) Albino white & (b) Fire-Engine Red.
4. If someone suggests going on Top Gun at 1pm, then you should say "Hells No", due to the fact that a 3 hour wait for a 3 second ride is ridiculous.
5. If a little fat Chinese kid sharts himself in front of you and his friends are taking a picture at that exact moment, then you will show up in their digital image holding your nose.
6. If a Gino strolls up and tries to cut in the Top Gun line after you have been waiting for an hour and half, and he is decked out like A.C. Slater, then you should, Nay, you must, ask him where Jessie Spano is.
7. If you normally wear heels {or a mini skirt and knee high boots} to something like Sars-a-palooza, or to camp, then your idea of practical shoes may be a little skewed and you will need to buy a new pair of flip flops before you become permanently crippled.
8. If you desperately crave a "Strawberry & Banana {lactose-free....YEAH BABY!} Chill" then it is guarenteed to be the single solitary thing the Park will have run out of. But there are eleventy-seven-hundred Pizza Pizza joints.
9. If you see a 50 year old man, with a grey pony-tail, sporting a pair of ageing purple spandex shorts with a tight T-shirt, then it is mandatory to ask him why he is smuggling grapes into the park.
10. If you are exhusted and ever so ready to be tucked into bed in London with your Boy, then his car will go "thump-ity-thump-ity KAbOOm", just outside of the Guelph service station. At 10:30 pm. On the long weekend. As the rain pours down. Making you have to pee. Again.
11. If the tow-truck driver gives you a funny look when he arrives after 11pm as you finagle your way in the rain, in a pair of flip flops, on the grassy shoulder of the highway, as the transport trailers attempt to play a game of "Run over the unfortunate pedestrain", then you should remember that people your age don't normally have half their face painted like a flower garden.
12. Moreover, if you call the tow-truck driver "Dude!", when he says something colourful, he will laugh his ass off at you.
13. Furthermore, however, he will tell you that you both are the coolest customers he has ever had by the time you stop for a pee/coffee/smoke break in Woodstock, due to the fact that you broke the ice with "Dude!". And you will say, without a glimmer of doubt in your mind, because you are a narcissitic assclown, "I AM the most awesome".
14. If the aforementioned situation with the glitter-y broken spf-y promises occurs and you have yet to actually examine the damage in a mirror, 1 am is probably not the time to do so. Because you are exhusted. And your sobs will wake the neighbours. In the next town over.
14. If all of this has happened in a 12 hour period, then you really should rethink visiting the Park again this season. Or ever.
Now, please pass the aloe vera. Thanks
1. If you wish to get your face painted, then you might be forced to contemplate what you will look like with a negative image of flowers burned onto your skin by the sun.
2. If your sunscreen has glitter in it, then chances are, it is a shitty sunscreen and you will end up with a third degree burn.
3. If you wear a halter top, with a spaghetti tank top underneath, and a long beaded necklace, with matching wrist cuffs, then your tan lines will look as though a pre-school aged child started a "paint-by-numbers" picture with only two colours (a) Albino white & (b) Fire-Engine Red.
4. If someone suggests going on Top Gun at 1pm, then you should say "Hells No", due to the fact that a 3 hour wait for a 3 second ride is ridiculous.
5. If a little fat Chinese kid sharts himself in front of you and his friends are taking a picture at that exact moment, then you will show up in their digital image holding your nose.
6. If a Gino strolls up and tries to cut in the Top Gun line after you have been waiting for an hour and half, and he is decked out like A.C. Slater, then you should, Nay, you must, ask him where Jessie Spano is.
7. If you normally wear heels {or a mini skirt and knee high boots} to something like Sars-a-palooza, or to camp, then your idea of practical shoes may be a little skewed and you will need to buy a new pair of flip flops before you become permanently crippled.
8. If you desperately crave a "Strawberry & Banana {lactose-free....YEAH BABY!} Chill" then it is guarenteed to be the single solitary thing the Park will have run out of. But there are eleventy-seven-hundred Pizza Pizza joints.
9. If you see a 50 year old man, with a grey pony-tail, sporting a pair of ageing purple spandex shorts with a tight T-shirt, then it is mandatory to ask him why he is smuggling grapes into the park.
10. If you are exhusted and ever so ready to be tucked into bed in London with your Boy, then his car will go "thump-ity-thump-ity KAbOOm", just outside of the Guelph service station. At 10:30 pm. On the long weekend. As the rain pours down. Making you have to pee. Again.
11. If the tow-truck driver gives you a funny look when he arrives after 11pm as you finagle your way in the rain, in a pair of flip flops, on the grassy shoulder of the highway, as the transport trailers attempt to play a game of "Run over the unfortunate pedestrain", then you should remember that people your age don't normally have half their face painted like a flower garden.
12. Moreover, if you call the tow-truck driver "Dude!", when he says something colourful, he will laugh his ass off at you.
13. Furthermore, however, he will tell you that you both are the coolest customers he has ever had by the time you stop for a pee/coffee/smoke break in Woodstock, due to the fact that you broke the ice with "Dude!". And you will say, without a glimmer of doubt in your mind, because you are a narcissitic assclown, "I AM the most awesome".
14. If the aforementioned situation with the glitter-y broken spf-y promises occurs and you have yet to actually examine the damage in a mirror, 1 am is probably not the time to do so. Because you are exhusted. And your sobs will wake the neighbours. In the next town over.
14. If all of this has happened in a 12 hour period, then you really should rethink visiting the Park again this season. Or ever.
Now, please pass the aloe vera. Thanks
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Conclusions I have come to...
As I reflect on my week...
1. It is difficult to take someone in authority seriously when you have just witnessed them (not-so) covertly attempt to make sure that their "barn door" is shut.
(a) This is complicated by the fact that whilst they were checking said door, they adjusted the "animals".
(b) And then tried to shake my hand.
2. I am incapable of holding in a giggle.
3. Or of preventing my mind from wandering to uncomfortable places i.e. Pondering whether he washed his hands the last time he peed and then forgot to zip up his barnyard.
4. Thoughts like those make me giggle more.
5. I use the word Dude. A. Lot.
6. The word "dude" is not always the greeting people expect to receive. In a business professional setting. Or ever, from a prissy girl.
7. I have to resist the urge to stick my tongue out at people. And the HR sexual harassment video tells me why I should.
8. When I put socks on, one is always, always inside out.
9. I never fix them. Ever.
10. I heart animals, but hold the threat of making mittens out of my Mom's cat over her {the cat's, not my Mom's} head.
I have also concluded that if tomorrow wasn't Friday, I would be running away to join the circus.
1. It is difficult to take someone in authority seriously when you have just witnessed them (not-so) covertly attempt to make sure that their "barn door" is shut.
(a) This is complicated by the fact that whilst they were checking said door, they adjusted the "animals".
(b) And then tried to shake my hand.
2. I am incapable of holding in a giggle.
3. Or of preventing my mind from wandering to uncomfortable places i.e. Pondering whether he washed his hands the last time he peed and then forgot to zip up his barnyard.
4. Thoughts like those make me giggle more.
5. I use the word Dude. A. Lot.
6. The word "dude" is not always the greeting people expect to receive. In a business professional setting. Or ever, from a prissy girl.
7. I have to resist the urge to stick my tongue out at people. And the HR sexual harassment video tells me why I should.
8. When I put socks on, one is always, always inside out.
9. I never fix them. Ever.
10. I heart animals, but hold the threat of making mittens out of my Mom's cat over her {the cat's, not my Mom's} head.
I have also concluded that if tomorrow wasn't Friday, I would be running away to join the circus.
Casper the Ghost has got nuttin' on me....
Psssst.....
Wanna know a secret?
Do you?
Do you really?
Promise not to tell a soul?
Swear?
Cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die?
Okay, then.
Here goes.....*ahem*
I am too WHITE for words.
{hangs head in shame}
I know, I know. It's shock-and-awing, a little scandalous, even disappointing, but there she blows, folks. So white it hurts.
And not just in the "My God, Vanilla Ice is like a a verifiable homie compared to her" kind of white.
Nope.
Although I regret to inform you that my street cred is hovering somewhere around Rainbow Brite's. I'm just saying.
Nope.
In the, as I was putting on a skirt this morning and contemplating sandals, and thus omitting nylons, my own legs blinded me, kind of way.
Truly.
I had to squint.
They are almost translucent. Albinos have more pigment that I do currently. It is as though the sun itself is so baffled by the alabaster chalk that is my skin tone at present that it's rays are reflected away in horror.
You know it's bad when you look at Nicole Kidman and think, Damn, girl looks like she's been on va-cay someone sunny, compared to me.
Wanna know a secret?
Do you?
Do you really?
Promise not to tell a soul?
Swear?
Cross-your-heart-and-hope-to-die?
Okay, then.
Here goes.....*ahem*
I am too WHITE for words.
{hangs head in shame}
I know, I know. It's shock-and-awing, a little scandalous, even disappointing, but there she blows, folks. So white it hurts.
And not just in the "My God, Vanilla Ice is like a a verifiable homie compared to her" kind of white.
Nope.
Although I regret to inform you that my street cred is hovering somewhere around Rainbow Brite's. I'm just saying.
Nope.
In the, as I was putting on a skirt this morning and contemplating sandals, and thus omitting nylons, my own legs blinded me, kind of way.
Truly.
I had to squint.
They are almost translucent. Albinos have more pigment that I do currently. It is as though the sun itself is so baffled by the alabaster chalk that is my skin tone at present that it's rays are reflected away in horror.
You know it's bad when you look at Nicole Kidman and think, Damn, girl looks like she's been on va-cay someone sunny, compared to me.
Monday, May 14, 2007
Remember Sharon, Lois & Bram?
A little ditty that came to mind this morning.
12 little geese came out to play
Be-tw-een Mom and Dad today
They had such enormous fun
Because Daddy Goose chased Andrea, making her run
11 little geese came out today
Shitting and honking and acting gay
They had such enormous fun
As they watched Daddy attempt to fell a human
10 little geese came out to play
Waddling across the people walkway
They had such enormous fun
Contemplating what Andrea will taste like, with saffron
You get the gist.....
12 little geese came out to play
Be-tw-een Mom and Dad today
They had such enormous fun
Because Daddy Goose chased Andrea, making her run
11 little geese came out today
Shitting and honking and acting gay
They had such enormous fun
As they watched Daddy attempt to fell a human
10 little geese came out to play
Waddling across the people walkway
They had such enormous fun
Contemplating what Andrea will taste like, with saffron
You get the gist.....
Prozzak will have to re-name the song....
Overheard in a classroom this morning....
Person A: "Where would you like to go on vacation this summer, Person B?"?
Person B: "Why Person A, I would really like to travel to Thailand".
Person A: "Person B, that is really interesting. But dangerous; be sure not to travel there during a samosa.
Person B: *............................................*
Person A: "Because they are really dangerous".
Person B: *............................................................*
Person A: "You know, what with all the water"
Person B: "Dude, a samosa is a South Asian pastry, with potato, peas and onions. I think you mean a Tsunami..."
Person A: *.........................................*
It's an easy mistake to make.... *ahem*
Person A: "Where would you like to go on vacation this summer, Person B?"?
Person B: "Why Person A, I would really like to travel to Thailand".
Person A: "Person B, that is really interesting. But dangerous; be sure not to travel there during a samosa.
Person B: *............................................*
Person A: "Because they are really dangerous".
Person B: *............................................................*
Person A: "You know, what with all the water"
Person B: "Dude, a samosa is a South Asian pastry, with potato, peas and onions. I think you mean a Tsunami..."
Person A: *.........................................*
It's an easy mistake to make.... *ahem*
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Smartarded? You decide....
The genius that is me.....
I remembered to bring Tiger Balm Ultra to work. I remembered to bring said balm to the bathroom in order to apply it to my aching, cranky back. I rejoiced in the fact that I was sooooo awesome in the realm of the most awesomely awesome.
Mmmmmm... minty burning that distracts from the oowie.
You know what you should NOT do after you apply the blissful balm?
As you walk towards the sink to wash the balm-y-ness from your hands?
*ahem*
rub. your. eyes.
It actually says that on the back of the tin.
And perhaps I could have read that, if the burning tears of shame-pain weren't streaming down my face.
I remembered to bring Tiger Balm Ultra to work. I remembered to bring said balm to the bathroom in order to apply it to my aching, cranky back. I rejoiced in the fact that I was sooooo awesome in the realm of the most awesomely awesome.
Mmmmmm... minty burning that distracts from the oowie.
You know what you should NOT do after you apply the blissful balm?
As you walk towards the sink to wash the balm-y-ness from your hands?
*ahem*
rub. your. eyes.
It actually says that on the back of the tin.
And perhaps I could have read that, if the burning tears of shame-pain weren't streaming down my face.
Monday, May 7, 2007
Why Mondays should be abolished officially...
Or just in my world.
{a} It was 4 degrees when I sauntered out the door. In a skirt. Sans hose. My goose-bumps had goose-bumps by the time I reached the end of the drive. Reason #312 why I should occasionally check the weather channel. I'm just saying.
{b} It is now 20 plus degrees and I am stuck inside, pressed up against the window, rather like a errant child, grounded for some mis-deed. Or that crazy uncle that your family keeps locked up in the attic. Or something
{c} I wore a long skirt today. Pretty. Flowy. I dipped the back of said skirt into the toilet on my lunch. Luckily, it was pre-pee. Have you ever tried to covertly use the hand-dryer to dry your hem? Just me then? Yeah, thought so.
{d} Leaving your lunch to chance means that the vending machine will be guaranteed to contain only inedible crap. And your tummy will be growling in tune to the "Dueling Banjos". And only when it is utterly silent. Like during a test.
{e} It is as far from Friday as one can possibly be after the weekend.
{f} Because my brain was such a muddled mess due to the inherent Monday-ness of the early o'clock that was my morning, I forgot half the paperwork I meant to bring to the office. But did remember to bring 4 kinds of hand-lotion, 3 novels from my weekend in London and a yogurt that I'm sure I packed last Wednesday. So, high five me.
{g} It is Monday. Nuff said.
{h} I have a headache that cannot be linked to alcohol. WTF? That's just wrong. Maybe I'll have a drink to contemplate the unfairness of that. Or eleventy-seven. Cause then I'd be unconscious until Friday. Or 2009. Whatever. Just pass the daiquiris. Stat.
{i} Have I mentioned the skirt?
{a} It was 4 degrees when I sauntered out the door. In a skirt. Sans hose. My goose-bumps had goose-bumps by the time I reached the end of the drive. Reason #312 why I should occasionally check the weather channel. I'm just saying.
{b} It is now 20 plus degrees and I am stuck inside, pressed up against the window, rather like a errant child, grounded for some mis-deed. Or that crazy uncle that your family keeps locked up in the attic. Or something
{c} I wore a long skirt today. Pretty. Flowy. I dipped the back of said skirt into the toilet on my lunch. Luckily, it was pre-pee. Have you ever tried to covertly use the hand-dryer to dry your hem? Just me then? Yeah, thought so.
{d} Leaving your lunch to chance means that the vending machine will be guaranteed to contain only inedible crap. And your tummy will be growling in tune to the "Dueling Banjos". And only when it is utterly silent. Like during a test.
{e} It is as far from Friday as one can possibly be after the weekend.
{f} Because my brain was such a muddled mess due to the inherent Monday-ness of the early o'clock that was my morning, I forgot half the paperwork I meant to bring to the office. But did remember to bring 4 kinds of hand-lotion, 3 novels from my weekend in London and a yogurt that I'm sure I packed last Wednesday. So, high five me.
{g} It is Monday. Nuff said.
{h} I have a headache that cannot be linked to alcohol. WTF? That's just wrong. Maybe I'll have a drink to contemplate the unfairness of that. Or eleventy-seven. Cause then I'd be unconscious until Friday. Or 2009. Whatever. Just pass the daiquiris. Stat.
{i} Have I mentioned the skirt?
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