Crazy is a State of Mind; West Virginia is a State of Crazies...

I was just informed that glass tops on desks can spontaneously crack and gouge chunks out of themselves.

Well, huh.

This was told to me by the cleaning lady of our office who was also the one who told me that the spots in the carpet were from coffee stains that occur when lawyers talk and fling their cups about (it was actually grease from the wheels of their carts) and that the wasps that try to hump my head were figments of my overactive imagination. I may have had to agree with them on the last part if one didn't LAND ON MY ARM AND WAS THE SIZE OF NEW YORK COCKROACH!!!! Really - I kept waiting for it to flap its wings and carry me off like some freaky, stingin' bird of prey.

If you see a chubby girl in an argyle vest (what?! it's cute - I swear!) being carried off by wasps (and not the tennis club kind) please send help.

Or Snickers bars.

Sending up the White Flag.

My day started out bad so I knew today would be more fuzzy than peachy.

I overslept and had no time to shower (oh, relax, I'm not stinky or anything - so please don't come at me with an industrialized-sized can of Lysol) so I run into the bathroom, thunk down in front of the mirror and try to get a brush through my thick hair which has decided to revolt and stand up in bushy waves all over my head.

Great.

I then have a cat drooling on my knee, trying to get attention from me when I'm knee-deep in concealer, foundation and enough eye-shadow to make even the Olsen Twins swoon.

Getting out her "boyfriend" (my old favorite paddle brush) she makes nice with it while I tackle the dark circles under my puffy green eyes.

We chat awhile. I talk about the "Smallville" episode of last night (Oh- goodness - Tom's in his man panties - oh - SWOON!) and she purrs. I discuss the thrills and chills of my beyond boring book "The Bergedorf Blondes" and she purrs. I take the brush away from her and she tries to bite me.

Works for me.

I leave for work and hop into - no - scratch that - I wedge my large posterior into the grey velcro-like seat and then scooch around until both butt cheeks are in proper placement. Joy.

I then get to work and delve into the gossip of the office: all the attorneys are scattering for a weekend retreat by mid-afternoon. All but one. So what's wrong with this one that was so obviously uninvited? Is this attorney so repugnant that one does not wish to get too close in fear of convoluted conversation or an extreme case of halitosis? No. Does this Legal Eagle have hygiene problems that could only be rectified by a dip in boiling bleach. No.

She has boobies.                       

And there you have it folks - two very perky reasons why I'm glad my career in law is now limited to phone conversations that end in "No, sorry, but may I take a message?"

                                                   

Just Call me Clarabelle.

                                                               

      Apparently, I am to continue driving around the Bozomobile for the entire weekend.  And  - thanks to the aftermath of "The Period Fairy"  - I now have a shiny red nose to match.

     Wheeeeee -  and stuff.

        

Tears of a Clown

I'm driving a rental Ford Focus. It is tiny, has cloth seats that grab my ass like naughty velcro and has manual controls.

Upon entering the vehicle with a mighty PLOP - I can almost hear the Big Top Music play.  I shut the door quickly so that other clowns will not file in on top of me.

I hate it. I miss my car with its fun gadgets and gizmos and whirlygigs and doomaflatchies!

Warning : I am now gonna sound like the biggest, whiniest, self-important babyhead you will have ever met - so - beware and stuff!

I miss my pop-up head unit and dvd player to which ogling Tom Welling's firm dimpled backside has become standard lunchtime procedure. I miss my PS2 that is nestled into my glove compartment waiting in vain for me to come and push multi-colored buttons. I miss my leather seats and their un-ideally located heated button. I tear up just thinking of my moonroof not being used on the first warm and inviting day of the year. And, I miss my 12 disk changer filled to the brim with Michael Buble, SheDaisy, Mandy Barnette, Gretchen Wilson, and Buffy : the Musical.

They told me: "Darlin', we may have your car done by Friday evening."

"Okay." I said not thinking of the ramifications.

And now, upon looking out and seeing the oozing whitehead of a clown car they gave me (it smells like stale smoke and has a sticky steering wheel to boot NOT to mention the fact that when you barely touch the brakes they seize up and I'm thrown against the seat belt like a barely restrained monkey) I realize something:

I WANT MY CAR BACK.

Otherwise, I may have to beat up some mechanic with my clown horn!

Heh heh heh - BRAINS!

During the past week when my sister was in - the strangest things happened to me. First, I couldn't seem to form coherent thoughts, words, sentences or even proper word choices. I would start to say something like: "Wow, that woman's choice of wardrobe is both enlightening and inappropriate" and this is what would come out "Wow - ugly - ward- um - she look bad."

I have decided that God does make mistakes and that my sis and I should've been one person. We share a brain, I have the left and she is clutching to the shred of sanity left in the right half. When we get together, instead of our two halves meshing in perfect polarity, they fight like two positively charged magnets and end up making us a (literally) laughing, drooling mess.

Which is actually kinda fun.

Intellect v. Ingenuity - which would YOU choose?

Wanna hear how smart I am?

Well, this morning I was running around trying to get ready when I made mistake number one: wearing a large red turtleneck sweater (I'm melting - MELTING!). I then decided that since I had to, yet again, drop my car off at the dealership for repairs and would be forced, yet again, to stay in for lunch, that I would grab my handy dandy Ipod. I ran upstairs to my office and rummaged up to my elbows in stuff to find the USB charger (my Ipod is always dead - it's a gift I have - killing inanimate objects - and plants).

Good to go, I grab my bag filled with books, music, paper and,now, my pink Ipod with Coach Ladybug cover, and head out the door.

Later, after some dancing at the mechanics to get me to work (the shuttle service gal called in as I was standing there staring at my watch with big eyes) I arrived at hell, oops, 'scuse me, I mean, my office and promptly crawled under the desk. I find a USB port, plug it in and do a happy dance ( a limited one so as to not bump my noggin') and then realize my second mistake of the morning: I didn't bring the earbuds.

I am so frickin' smart that I grab my Ipod and the charger - but not the only way to listen to it!

Harry called and I told him of my predicament. His suggestion was to walk to Electronics Boutique and buy a PSP set of headphones.

I thanked him and hung up the phone, laughing. Like I'd really walk the block and a half to EB! ahahahha I'm MUCH too lazy for that!

I rummage through my drawers and find a pair of old earphones with HUGE ear pads. I cross my fingers, toes and eyes as I wiggle the connector into the earbud input and - yesssss!

There's Carrie Underwood asking Jesus to quit being a backseat driver!

So - my genius level may be a little lacking but my ingenuity - well - it's pretty darn impressive if I do say so myself!

I think I may be a tad MacGuyver-ish.

Now - I'm off to make me a smoke bomb (to confuse lawyer-types when I don't want to work - which is often) out of a water bottle, a can of canned air, a wheat thin and a staple remover.

BOOM!

:)

I'm a Wiener.

This morning I was sitting in the floor, hair products to my right, cat to my left, make-up in my lap and mirror to my front, when the radio announcer says :  "Alrighty, now it's time for Trivia Tuesday!  What do Bill Pullman, Jack Nicholson, Michael Douglas and  [some other guy] have in common?!" 

I drop my curling iron in the floor, apologize to Phoebe and grab my cell phone.  I ring once and no answer.  Slapping my flip phone shut, I reopen it and quickly dial again! 

I know this! I think to myself.

"What do they have in common?"  The DJ says in way of a greeting.

Startled, I answer, "Uh, they're all presidents.  I mean, heh heh, they all played presidents." 

"You're exactly right!" He says in a practiced baritone.

"Yayyyyy!"  I say like a deranged person.

So what did I win?  I won a meal for two at Wendy's and a gift certificate for car window tinting.  

Now I can eat my cheeseburger in shame, behind black glass and away from prying eyes.

Yayyyyyyyy.