HE'S LOOKING TO BE A KEPT MAN

"I thought of another career path for myself."

"Oh yeah?"

"Check this out. Ninja for hire."

"... Really?"

"Yes! Do you even realize how cool that would be? Do you have any idea?"

"Mmm. And who would pay you to be a ninja?"

"Hey. I'm bad ass. Someone out there is stupid enough to pay me to do that."

"No. They wouldn't. No one in their right mind would pay you for that."

"I didn't say they would be in their right mind. They would have to be very, very stupid. Don't you kill my dream! Gah! Are you happy now?! MY DREAM IS DEAD!!!"

YEAH, JOHN CENA!

Tonight was WWE's twenty-somthing Royal Rumble.

Oh, yes. It was.

And there may or may not have been a poll going. And I'm not saying it DID happen, but IF money exchanged hands, it was most certainly in my favor.

Let me tell you, the boys were THRILLED on my behalf.

"One of your children will have hooves because of this."

Pity I can't hear you when I'm rolling in all of this cash.

WHAT WOULD POSSIBLY MAKE YOU THINK I'M A NERD?

Today, with a mere five minutes slowly grinding away towards the end of my day, I picked up the dictionary off of my desk. And with that dictionary I looked up "insane" to see if a part of the definition truly did say "doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results." (It didn't.)(Don't ask.)

But then I got distracted. Then I started reading more entries and it became a game of sorts. I flipped to a random page and scanned the entries to see how many words I didn't know the definition of.

Five minutes later I put down the dictionary and that is when I realized that READING THE DICTIONARY was the most fulfilling and mentally stimulating thing I had done all day. Five whole minutes that was time better spent the previous seven hours and fifty-five minutes of my day.

And that makes me very sad in my pants.

THE DISTRACTION AT HIS FINEST

"Would you visit me?"

"What?"

"Would you visit me? You know, if you met me outside of an alien abductee convention and I told you I ran a reflexology booth out the back of my Winnebago?"

"I? Wha? NO! Not unless I wanted to be raped and pillaged before getting cut up into tiny, little pieces. Do you have ANY idea how creepy that is?!"

I FOUND THEM AT THE FOOT OF THE BED

This morning when I woke up I uttered a phrase usually reserved for after a night of drunken fraternal debauchery.

No, not "where am I?"

Not "who is he?"

But from betweenst my lips tumbled the ever-favorite: "Um? Where are my pants?"

I SWEAR I had on sweats when I went to bed. I'm just not entirely sure what happened to them between that time I rolled over and they started to fall off and this morning. (Not only that but it definately took me at LEAST a full minute to realize I was without an essential part of my sleepware.)

That and I'm fairly certain I was alone all night... which is awkward. I really need to stop molesting myself.

SMELLS HOMEY

Is it a bad omen if you accidentally spill chicken noodle soup on your rental application? Because if so, I am boned.


(Ed. Note: And not in the fun, aerobic sort of way, which, given the brain melting incident of today (more on that tomorrow if you're good), I could probably use. Actually, you know what? I could DEFINATELY use the effects of a good boinking without so much the hassle of finding a clean enough boy and then getting us both sloshed and then the subsequent pregnancy scare.)

SMALL PRICE TO PAY FOR THE BEST NIGHT OF HIS LIFE

"Ohh! Guess what Issac gave me?!"

"HERPES!!!"

((at which point the lady friend who was holding hands with him pulled away))

"... I... oh, wow. I should be giving you the finger right now but... I have to give you props."


* * *

"You guys should have told me your house was this cold. I would have brought my space heater."

"Except then we would have all been huddled around it."

"No, we wouldn't. It oscillates."

"That's pronounced osk-illates. There is a 'c' in there."

"... No, it isn't."

"Yeah, it's not."

"... Did you honestly think I would believe you?"

"I was hoping."

"This coming from a guy who gets an air-five from his roommate whenever he uses a big word."

"Hell, yeah!"


* * *

Rachel: "You should update your blog more often. I read it everyday! Sometimes, I even read it multiple times a day."

Me: "Yeah, I try to but nothing all that interesting has been going on recently."

Will: "You know, I read your blog, too."

Me: "Aww, really? Do you read it everyday?"

Will: "No way. Not everyday. That's just crazy."

NOT *EXACTLY* WHAT I WAS GOING FOR

So this afternoon I attempted to wax my eyebrows...

On second thought, I don't want to talk about it anymore.

DELIRIOUS RATIONALIZATIONS

This morning when I woke up, I decided to stay home from work for two reasons: the first being that I still don't feel well and if my body decided to void it's warrenty, I'd rather do it in my own bathroom, and the second being the amount of snow on top of my car and the thinly veiled rationalization that I'm sick and PROBABLY shouldn't be out in the cold. Plus the extra amount of time it would most certainly take me to get to work would make me late anyway and one of my die-hard philosophies in college was if I was going to be late for a class it wasn't worth going.

But they also didn't pay me to attend class.

So here I am, probably not sick enough to be home (she said as her tummy wobbled uncomfortably) but by god, I don't want to infect the masses so really, I'm being selfless here and sparing everyone else who didn't come into contact with me yesterday when I was probably just as, if not more so, infectious from the horrible limbo of the will I or won't I vomit.

And in the meantime I'm reading (about doggies), catching up on the sleep I lost Sunday night that made this little infection all the more able to exact it's revenge on my GI tract, and window shopping on the interwebs for my new apartment for crap I might not be able to afford because I AM MISSING WORK*.

Truly, I am throwing myself on a grenade here people.


*"Missing" as in NOT being physically present, not as in I'm sad I'm not there because, please.

I AM A BLOODY EFFING NEUROTIC

I have managed to so stress myself out that what feeble attempts my immune system has been making to hold back whatever it is that has lodged itself in my throat have failed. Miserably. And now it's reeking havoc on my intestinal tract.

So I'll be the one in bed chugging pepto like it is going out of style, praying that I don't throw up.

Yum.

WE MAY HAVE BEEN RASH

So I think we may have found a place. It's two bedrooms (I was only looking for one), heat and water paid, with a balcony, and true, it IS more expensive than what I want to spend BUT I can definately make up the difference in what I'll save in gas because it's a mile from work.

A mile. I can walk to work.

Also, it allows dogs. Big dogs. Up to 80 lbs dogs. Chewie might soon have a big, old mutt of a cousin (who shall henceforth be referred to as "Roy" (short for "Royal Pain in the Ass") until I get said dogget and decide on a right and true name).

But here is where we may have been rash. We told her we'd take it. We're mailing in a deposit to hold it. We haven't actually seen it.

I KNOW. Oh dear God, I know, and trust me, we saw some awful places today. But it's clean and neat on the outside (which we learned today isn't a real indicator of what the inside might look like but sometimes in life you just have to color outside the lines and take chances and did I mention the big doggie? Or the very simple fact that they allow a doggie at all? And have you SEEN the price of gas lately?!) and it's in a good neighborhood and the current tenants won't be out until the end of the month and then they'll have to clean and paint and clean some more and, and, and big doggie! Mile from work! (Possible) savings of monies!

And technically, at this point, we've only put $100 deposit down on the place.

God, I hope this works out.


(ALSO, we went window shopping for furniture after we decided on this place and Chad sofa? IS BEING DISCONTINUED. I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS. That last one left at the store damn well BETTER BE THERE IN A MONTH. And it damn well BETTER FIT UP MY STAIRS. That's all I got to say about that.)

(Ohh, I also found a new mattress I want because IT IS HEAVEN. There was also a clearance of this but because it was a floor model. I would like very much for that to continue to be available in a month as well.)

APARTMENT HUNTING SUCKS

"Can I make an appointment for Saturday to see one of your one or two bedroom apartments?"

"We don't show on Saturday."

"Um, it says right here you show by appointment on Saturdays."

"Maybe they just haven't changed it yet, but I been here since July and we never do that."

Okay, one: This is the most recent edition (as in January 2008) of a monthly apartment guide. Change your goddamn contact information.

And two: I am trying to throw MONEY at you. Nearly $500 this month with a signed agreement to do so for another eleven. Do you not think it would be well within your ability, not to say your interest, to cater to me JUST A LITTLE BIT? You should be kissing my ass at this point because there is PLENTY of time to dick me over AFTER I'VE SIGNED THE LEASE.

FOR WHAT (I'M) WORTH

I found an interesting article at work today just lying around where wandering and curious eyes could fall upon it.

It was about the salary the average IT person makes.

Now, keep in mind, I am no web developer (though, technicaaly, if I really hated myself enough, I could be). I am what you might call a web administrator. (Though let us not EVEN make a mockery of my current wages as a marketing coordinator by seeing what I should be making. Let us remember I do NOT hate myself that much.)

I found that my dear, sweet counterpart, the slave to web usability, the whore to domain names, the internet's bitch for all intents and purposes makes $57,823. ON THE LOW END OF THE SCALE.

And I? I am not making nearly that much.

Holy GOD. If I made the effort to learn the back end of this shit (which, while well within the scope of my ability, does not actually interest me) I could become a web master (or mistress but that just sounds dirty) and then I could OWN YOU!!! And I could own that motorcycle! And a nicer apartment! And a dog! And maybe even a summer house on the lake! (HAH! Not on $60K a year but I like my enthusiasm. (Which pretty accurately describes my work environment. Not a chance of attaining my dreams but LET'S MAINTAIN THAT SAME LEVEL OF ENTHUSIASM AS WHEN YOU STILL HAD A HOPE!)

Gah! I looked it up and I should be making $38K.

Sigh.

PLAYGROUND RULES APPLY

The Distraction has developed a rather annoying habit. To demonstrate just how annoying this habit is, let me tell you when this habit started.

It started SATURDAY.

And SATURDAY, when it started, it lead to me leaving the passenger door of his car wide open when I went to get into mine, an act he declared to be "just cold."

I maintain he deserved it.

You see, the Distraction? He's taken a liking to fluffing my hair. Particularly until I get annoyed enough to hit.

So imagine my surprise TODAY when he begins this habit anew. At work. Because he's mature. Except today, I was wearing a pony tail. Today, he yanked my perfectly coiffed hair OUT of a pony tail in jagged, whispy strands.

I was not amused.

I asked him how old he was. He said five.

I called him a bastard. He laughed.

I asked him if he was going to chase me around the playground and push me down into the dirt. He said he thought it was a good idea.

I reassert my long held belief that boys? They are dumb. So very, very dumb.

MOROSE TAG

TV Commercial: "1 in 3 men will be diagnosed with prostate cancer..."

Dave: "Not it!!"

THWARTED

"So we going to lunch today?"

"Can't. I have to get out of here at one."

"What? Why?"

"Because my mom was all upset they didn't do anything for my birthday so she announced my dad was taking me to lunch then they're both taking me out to dinner."

"I guess that screws up our plans then, huh?"

"Yeah, it does. But what about tomorrow?"

(Sigh) "What time?"

"After 4:30."

"Uhhh. Yeah. I can do it."

"Look, I'm sorry but you don't understand! She was almost crying! I had to cave."

"Wait. You mean she's guilting you into celebrating your own birthday?"

"Pretty much."

"Well, did you tell her we had plans?"

"I TRIED!! But then she went on and on about not getting to celebrate my sister's birthday because she isn't here and how my brother had to work on HIS birthday and then she said I was her baby and she just wanted to do something nice for her baby since I'm the only one still at home. She even made me a homemade cake with homemade icing and then was all 'but if you don't want it.' Gah! I know she spent a lot of time on it and everything. I really couldn't say no."

"Hehe. Okay, we can put it off until tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"So what is the excuse going to be tomorrow when you call and cancel?"

"Oh SHUT UP. Not you, too."

"Oh? Would it help if I cried?"

"Do it and, I swear to God, I'll kill you."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THE DISTRACTION

Today is the Distraction's birthday. He's 28, working two jobs, and living at home with his parents.

He prefers if you not mention it.

I was going to get him a gift certificate to Wendy's since he eats that crud most days. I ended up getting him a sweater which we wore today and look very dapper in. I also took him to lunch.

At Wendy's.

Because that is where he wanted to go.

Now you would think I got off light because... it's Wendy's. And cheap. Except our friend the Distraction eats enough chicken nuggets to feed a small battalion of pygmys, though you would never know it because of how tall, stringy, and lithe he is. Bastard. And tomorrow, as an EXTRA SPECIAL birthday treat, he's taking me apartment hunting.

Do I not give the BEST birthday gifts ever? Don't you just wish you could not date me, too?!

THE VOICE OF REASON GETS ALL OF THE BLAME

Last night was full of phone conversations like this:

"Huhh. I am so drunk."

"Where are you?"

"In the bathroom."

"Did you puke?"

"No, I don't want to puke."

"So why did you call me?"

"I thought you could be the voice of reason."

"Well, the voice of reason is telling you to puke."

Or this litte jem:

"How are you feeling now?"

"Gotta go. Gonna puke." CLICK

All of which lead to conversations like THIS this morning:

"Did you call me some time last night and I hung up on you because I had to puke?"

"Yeah, but that was after you called me the voice of reason and..."

"Wait. Wait. When did I do that?"

"You called me when you were in the bathroom and said I was the voice of reason and I told you to puke."

"Oh. Well then I blame all of this on you."