You know, I was going to make this post like a happy little farty post with a cartoony picture of pumpkins or ghosts or some crap like that, and then I (finally) realized that I'm just not that gal. Never have been, never will be. To illustrate my point, I have a pair of Halloween socks in my drawer that I've had for going on seven years now. Every single Halloween I either forget I have them or decide not to wear them, and then don't wear them. They shuffle to the back of the sock drawer for another year, to be dutifully hauled out next September as I shrug back into my delusional anticipation of being that gal.
Today, I threw away the orange socks with cutesy black spiders on them. Happy Halloween.
Monday, October 24, 2011
This is my thumb. It hurts. When I try to bend it, it's sort of stiff and crunchy, and and I have to wiggle it and finally it will crack and pop and I can bend it.
It is such a useful thumb. It has knitted miles of yarn and typed millions of keystrokes. It has cheerfully and cooperatively helped fill a glove for years.
So what happened? I'll tell you. It held a cell phone for about 16 hours this weekend. I dared to use my newfound cell phone app capacity (thanks, Mitch!) to download Angry Birds. I dared, and it bit me in the ass. I'm addicted, and what's worse, I had all the warning in the world not to do it. Everybody gets addicted to this game. I thought my general game-playing negative-skill quotient would protect me, but I got hooked. I just wanted a taste. To see what all the fuss is about. I just wanted a puff, a snort, a tab, just one little hit, just a little clarity, a little corner of coolness to call my own.
I was driving yesterday and there were three cars in two lanes ahead of me. Idly, I calculated the angle I'd have to throw an angry bird to get all three in one shot. I blinked a couple of times when I realized what I was doing.
This is your brain. This is your brain on Angry Birds. Don't do Angry Birds. Not even once.
Monday, October 17, 2011
To pass a few moments, I inconspicuously recorded 8 minutes in class with my cell phone voice recorder. Tonight, because he is the light of my life, I made Richard listen to a good 4 minutes of Malkovich's comedy routine in bed. He finally blinked up at me, one earbud dangling, and told me he didn't need to listen anymore, because he totally, totally got my point.
To cap off this experience, we also have a system update going live at work on Tuesday night. My part of it is barely coded, and not tested. As far as I can tell, and this is after a lot of analyzing, this is a direct result of me being a piss-poor planner. What really, really blows about this situation, even more than me having to put pressure on our lovely and talented corporate beta tester to holy-shit-this-has-to-be-tested-yesterday, is that my lovely and talented coworker and partner in Progress crime has to pick up the slack because I can't get to my desktop while I'm at training. The timing of this training and this system update just suck in so very many ways.
Lunch was one fucked up bag of crazy today too. We got an hour break for lunch. I found a local Metro Mart and I was happy because they have good soup. Not Larry's good, but pretty decent for a grocery store. And much cheaper than Panera. So I drove into the Metro Mart in Brookfield off of Bluemound, parked my car, and went in. I got my soup, and a salad, and checked out in the self-check line (this is turning out to be a very alone-time intensive week, between not talking to my coworkers because I'm not at work and not talking to my husband after the kids go to bed because I'm dialing in to work until we sleep). I headed back out to to my car, enjoying the brisk air and sunshine on a fall day. I was distantly following a man pushing a cart. The man was probably 40, dressed business casual, had small round glasses, walking briskly and cheerfully. He pushed his cart between my car and the car parked next to me, a late model Mercury Milan. As I was reaching my car, the Milan owner (a large african-american man, also business casual and about 40, was sitting in it) beeped his horn at Glasses man. Glasses man kind of smiled like, what's the joke? Milan man started yelling in his car with the windows up that Glasses man hit his car with the cart. Glasses man was shocked and apologetic, and said he didn't know he had hit it. (I didn't hear/see it, but it would have happened out of my view because I was further behind and the Milan blocked my view.) Milan man got out and said, what kind of person hits another man's car when he's sitting right in it, and doesn't stop to see if there was any damage? Glasses man again said he didn't hit the car, and he didn't see him sitting in it, and starts walking (briskly - perhaps he doesn't walk any other way?) towards Milan man's car. Milan man now stomps around to the passenger side of the Milan, which was directly outside my car window, where I am now huddled behind my wheel, doors locked, thinking to myself, seriously? We're all business casual in Brookfield at the Metro Mart and you guys are going to go all "gangstah"? So by now Milan man and Glasses man are in each other's faces, literally like 3 inches apart, yelling about SHOW ME WHERE I HIT IT and YOU BETTER BACK THE F*** OFF and WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO NOW, HUH? at each other. At this point I started looking around for the hidden camera. This has to be a "punked" thing or a Borat thing or something along those lines, because these two Brookfield office guys have turned into two GET YOUR ASS AWAY FROM ME AND INTO THAT CAR, BITCH very-Jerry-Springer people while dressed in business casual with unremarkable loafers. I decided it would be imprudent to stick around, because really, I just didn't need to see any more car-momma drama.
I went back to the training facility and ate quietly, and alone, in my car. According to Malkovich, today was our easy day. I can't wait for tomorrow. This is one of those weeks where the hits just keep on coming.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
It's been awhile but I'm back. Richard and I have adopted two little girls, sisters, Jessica and Abby. Jessica is 9 and Abby is 3. We are very busy! I am working full time in the IT department at a local bank. In the spring I am getting a beehive for the backyard. A local beekeeper needs to place some of his hives around the area, and we have 1.25 acres in a perfect spot. This way I'll be able to learn how to keep bees without the investment, and with an experienced beekeeper by my side. This has been a dream of mine for many years so it's very exciting. Well I battled a nasty bug today. My temp was 102.8 for several hours even after taking Tylenol and a prescribed antibiotic. I am exhausted. Off to bed!
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