"Fangs" for the Memories! heh heh heh

How funny is my subject line?!  ahahhahaha!

Anyway - as of today - I'm yanking Kat Freeman from the cyber world - her blog is being pulled and has been sent off to an e-publisher in hopes of getting a teeny bit of recognition from it and being able to put "semi-quasi-published author" after my name!

So - thanks!  (FANGS! ahahahah)

 

PS. After pulling up my AOL, signing in and then trying to update my journal - I had to sign in TWO MORE TIMES to get to this screen!  Geeesh!  Anyone else having issues with this? 

                                                        

Construction of Annoyance

Holly Rants of November 8th, 2006:

1.  My sister calls me last night sounding overly dejected because she has a divorce hearing this morning -understandable.  So even though I have more to do than most football teams, I invite her over and even promise that I'll help to dye her hair (which I hate to do - messy!).   So - she shows up and eats her Taco Bell and all the while hacks and coughs all over my house like a one-woman influenza parade.  The doorbell rings.  It's her boyfriend - she invited him over.  I'm in old ratty pajama pants and a sweat shirt - sans bra.  We all go about talking and dying Summer's hair and while she's sitting next to me and letting her hair air dry and discussing the real world version of "The Old Man And the Sea," I interrupt her and role reversal steps in:  "OHMYGOD,Summer,yourhairisturinggray!"

Sure enough - the dye didn't take on the blonde part - it's red on the roots and gray on the ends.  And Stacey's wedding is this Saturday.

Then, and I'm not sure if the dye had seeped through or if it was just a lingering "blonde moment" but during Harry's re-telling of a story of  a man who ran fifty marathons in fifty states, back-to-back, Summer chimed in:  "Well, wonderifhecamethroughWestVirginia?"

Harry stared at his sister-in-law like a man confused - and a little scared.  "Well, since there are only fifty states,  I'm pretty sure WV was one of them..."

She looked at him blankly and then burst out laughing and snorting. 

We continued to stare at her in confusion and horror.

But it could've just been the bad dye job.

2.  My office manager is sick again - so that means no one here can function without buzzing me at least fourteen times a minute. Case in point:

"Holly, (Incapable, Older-than-most-buildings, Office Manager) and I were to have a meeting today - can you take care of that?"  Lawyerman said.

I pause. I have no f'n clue what he's talking about and have to find a delicate way of telling him that not only has his train of thought lost direction - but it's derailed at the station.  No survivors.

"Okay. What exactly would you like me to do?" I asked as politely as I could while crossing my eyes and flipping off the phone on my desk for good measure.

"Well, call her and ask her if she'll be in and whether or not we need to reschedule." I'm assuming he wants me to call my "sick" co-worker and get the details.

"I'll figure something out!"  I say to him cheerfully before slamming down the black, shiny receiver and counting to ten while envisioning a happier place.  Like me, at work, with a large, shiny chainsaw.  VRRRRRRRRRRRM!

3.  The construction workers that are jackhammering the pavement RIGHT BELOW MY OFFICE WINDOW have a death wish.  They do not know that seven stories above them - I am peering at their, tiny, helmeted heads and again practicing my telekinesis.  With any luck - the one driving the back ho will soon turn on his cronies - and all will be according to plan....   And if that doesn't work - I will have to do what any other chick would do in my place.  I will simply ride the elevator down, open the door, cross the street, unzip my pointy boot and start whapping them about their much unprotected nether regions. 

4.  AND THEN my building has the entire sidewalk, street and door marked off with "CAUTION" tape.  A large cherry picker is parked on the sidewalk.  I walked up to the tape that was strung across orange barrels and adjusted my bag, changed hands with my umbrella and plucked the tape off the barrel.  I then stepped over the tape and strolled right into the building, obviously heeding no "CAUTION" to the yellow, useless tape. 

Here are some pictures I took at work:

This one is my desk and me updating my journal:  

The dreaded "Phone-a-sauras-Rex" not seen since ancient times....shhhhh be very, very quiet...

Two views from my window - PRE-Construction era:

5. After class tonight (in which we will be discussing the rather mirthless House of Mirth ) I am to go home and assemble the treats for the Bachlorette Party tomorrow night.  And:  fix my dress for the wedding, find my checkbook for the "naughty tupperware party," clean crock pot, add ingredients to my Amish Friendship Bread, try to figure out how to get 10 lbs of hair into a decent wedding 'do, and pack an overnight bag.  AND then - after that - I will have to stand on a street corner with a sign that says "Crazy.  Need Help. Give Prozac." 

:)

Update:  Well, seeing as how the "Naughty Tupperware Party" was supposed to be a surprise and that Stacey is a faithful reader of my blog- Tiffany immediately accosted me before the first ingestion of cheeseball:  " Yeah, Stacey read your blog and figured out what was going on - she found out about the sex toy party."  My first reaction, as a friend, and fellow planner of the shindig was "Holy Crap - I didn't even realize I did that!"  My second reaction came from the (majority) of my self - the writer:  "I WILL NOT BE CENSORED!" 

Mis-diagnosed? Maybe?

Well- all my pre-teen lusting (again) was in vain...

Oh well, as long as Fred Savage, Kirk Cameron, Eddie Furlong, David Moscow and Christian Bale are still playing for my team, I'll be okay...  

I SCREAM! YOU SCREAM! WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM!

I decided to write a bit about the exploding ice cream cone incident for the "VoiceboxX" -it's a rehash of my journal entry - but could be entertaining - or fair warning - for all of you who may come in contact with milk products today -- Beware....

On a better note - Harry and I made homemade ice cream in our handy dandy ice cream maker on Sunday morning.  I love breakfast!  AND it didn't explode on me!   Harry, however, was not so lucky:

 Um - Harry?  You've got a bit on your - um - well - never mind! Enjoy!

Harry helps me "clean" the bowl...

Previous to the above ice cream making event I had a bad dream- a very large bug had flown down from the ceiling and had attached itself to Harry's pillow.  I screamed and started beating at his head, trying to keep this massive winged bug away from my hubby's head. 

"Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuug!"  I screamed like a banshee in heat.  "BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUG!"  I turned on the bedside lamp and looked at Harry who was sitting up, clad in boxers and a white Polo tee.  He had an odd look on his face, one that was a mixture of astonishment, concern and sleepiness. 

"There was a -uh- bug?"  I half-asked, half-explained.  I didn't have the heart to tell him that I had been completely asleep  up until the moment I flipped on the light and found myself nose-to-nose with a pissed off Himalayan and a scared out of his mind husband.

"There's no bug," he said and tried to lay back down.

"Yes! There was a bug!  A BIG BUG and it was on your pillow!"  I yanked the pillow out from under his head and searched it thoroughly. 

Harry banged his head on the mattress in defeat while I continued to search his pillow for bugs. 

See why I have to give in and make homemade ice cream and wash his man panties and watch the occassional game of football?  Cause I'm completely NUTS!  And he loves me anyway.  So there. :)

Welcome to my Life - Can I have yours, instead?

My weekend started out bad and quickly accelerated into "really f'n bad" in a short time. 

1.  I found out that my paper that I had worked on and slaved over until I finally puttered out ten pages - was done completely wrong. 

2.  Friday I found out that Gillian was in the hospital with some crazy high fever and that they were leaning towards giving her a spinal tap - lucky for us - they didn't - but still - it was scary there for a bit.

3.  Stress levels reached an all-time high while at a shooting range on Saturday.  While trying to learn how to properly shoot a gun, I got the fleshy part of my finger caught in the action and commenced an immediate melt-down.  I immediatly had Harry to take me home and then begged and pleaded for him to take me to the local crazy house.  I wanted a penthouse suite at HCA - but decided against it when he told me that their sheets were less than 200 thread count. 

4.  I decided that at almost 30 years old - I was never going to learn how to use a (ALL MEN SKIP THE REST OF THIS ENTRY AND GO TO #5) tampon.  I tried it again and had the distinct and rather unpleasant feeling of having a piece of cotton jammed up my "no-no" region.   Sigh.   I have determined that I am the proverbial "old dog" who cannot be taught "new tricks." 

5.  Now, it's Sunday and I'm in my snug recliner and feeling anxious but a little less stressed since I'm slightly ahead on my Graduate Poetry class (can't work on it Thursday - I'm Bachlorette Party Bound!).  However, I'm a bit worried that I may get "tapped" again and my head is feeling a bit too exposed at the moment.

Here are some pics of Gillian from when she was feeling better last Tuesday, Halloween. She was supposed to be Tinkerbell or Strawberry Shortcake- instead - she looks like a "Naked Jedi" which morphed, later, into "The Streak." Boogedy, boogedy!:

Play that piano, Jedi Streaker!  :)

And when she was not feeling so well:

She's better now!  The fever is gone now - after three days...

 

So - here's hoping that this week - the week that marks my bud Stacey's last few days as a Sassy Singletong - will be fabulous.  If not - well - I think the nuthouse still has my reservations...

 

 

Travelin' Man

Generally,  I hate it when my hubby travels for many reasons too numerous to list here (lonely, leaves me to find solace in a cat with sinus problems who likes to sleep on my head, boogeyman...)  but sometimes, just sometimes I can see the silver lining - and it looks like this:

                                     

             Pretty, pretty shoes for my pinky, dinky toes!   Okay- so his traveling sucks toe jam on the frequent occassion but some of these podunk towns have - wait for it - OUTLETS!  From which a lovely pair of Coach flat patchwork shoes were acquired for me!   I LOVE THEM and will wear them until they fall apart and I have to patch them for real!  

             Yeah, I'm spoiled, what of it?   I wash his "man-panties" ya know!  :)

Dear Santa, All I want for Christmas is the ability to set people's ears on fire with my brain...

Yesterday, I was watching the clock as it was slowly ticking towards Five PM - a.k.a. "The Golden Hour" when I would be able to escape the Legalease World in which I'm trapped for 7.5 hours a day, five days a week, too many days a year - when up strolls one of my elderly co-workers.   Now, at first glance, you cannot tell that she is of a mature age.  Her hair is dyed to the color of snow that has been colored by dog urine, her face is dewey with expensive QVC moisturizer and the fine lines that ring her mouth is masked in lipstick bought from the dollar bin at Kmart.  However, as she approaches, one can tell that her age is not only edging on Senior Citizen, but has surpassed it, smacked it on the back of the head and is now comfortably resting with one Payless pump in the grave. 

She had beef with me.

"What is your problem with this entry?"  she spat and waved a paper in front of my face.  I calmly took the paper from her and inwardly resisted the urge to cut her like a Paper-cutting trained Samari for two reasons.  One, it was almost time to leave and two, a Lawyerman was standing at my desk, in mid-polite conversation about the joys of trick-or-treaters in the "nicer neighborhoods." 

"Well, it was an 'expense' entry and I wasn't sure if deleting it would cause any problems with the books or something," I explained and then smiled at Lawyerman to make sure he knew how ridiculous this Q&A was.  

"Holly," she said in a tired, irritated voice that comes from people who arrive an hour late every morning, take extended lunches and leave at 5:01 everyday, "if it's marked out then you delete it."  I wanted to kill her.  Murder her with the ease of pushing a button and then picking up my keyboard and striking her over and over until her face slides off  and reveals the evil alien pod within.

"I've learned it's always best to ask questions," I said in a very happy and cheery voice and winked at Lawyerman (who was still hovering). Actually I was trying very hard to talk myself OUT of ripping off her bulbous nose with a letter opener. 

"I think that's always a good plan!  Best to ask!" Lawyerman agreed with me and went back to making notes on his yellow pad.

Smoke billowed from my ancient co-worker's droopy ears.  I feared the steam would melt her gold-plated earrings of early 80's origin. She flung the invoice at me and stormed off.

It was priceless,  I tell ya, priceless.

:)