Wednesday, January 18, 2006

This is actually yesterday's post

But I had some technical difficulties and gave up in utter frustration. Here is what I had for yesterday:

Due in part to a nagging guilt feeling over not using the journal that Sydney gave me for Christmas last year and in part to a recent fever of reading blogs, I've decided to restart a journal. I'll probably keep it on the killingfrancis blog I started back in the killing francis days since I like the vibe of that and the sentiment still holds true. (Note: I couldn't figure out how to get into my previous blogger account so I just decided to start a new blog. That's this one.)

So I'm sitting at work freezing my ass off. That's a theme around here. One woman wears these wooly sweaters to work when it's 70 outside and I don't know how she can stand the walk to and from the car, but I do know she's happier at her desk than I am. It starts to piss me off after a while. I hate that about being cold. You just can't ever get away from it. You can shiver and stuff and it makes you feel better for a second but then it comes back to you're still freezing your ass off. Grr. I don't think I've ever worked at an office where they had climate control -um- under control. I mean, I can watch videos on my tiny ipod but I have to sit here all cold and pissed off. What's up with that??

Last night we went to pick Hannah up at the airport coming home from her New York adventure. The original plan was for me to leave work and go directly (and it's that close) to the airport in time for her 10.15 arrival. Well because I wanted to be smart and informed I looked her flight up on the airport website and found out that it was going to be delayed until 10.50! Han called from the plane in Houston right around 10 and they hadn't even taken off yet so I told her she should take a cab. Right away after I hung up I thought, well that's no fun, so I left work and picked Sydney up and we went and parked at the airport and lurked by the baggage claim so she wouldn't maybe miss us and get the cab. She finally landed around 11 and we collected her bags and went chez elle and drank wine and giggled crazily and it was exactly the kind of fun that I knew it would be. The unfortunate side effect was that I didn't get to bed until after 2am and since my painting class started this morning I couldn't go back to bed after taking Zachary to school. I don't know what the hell I'm telling these people wanting insurance. I have actually nodded off a little during two separate calls. Yikes.

I was so clever last week when I made Mexican Lasagne to carefully portion out the leftovers into two separate dinners for Zach and myself and put them into the freezer for nights when I have class and can't cook. So I went into the freezer this morning to get out our dinner and defrost it when I discovered that the two smaller portions meant for me have been eaten already. I wasted a good ten minutes being pissed about it, at first being pissed at Zachary who should have known that I had plans for that food and then being pissed at myself for not mentioning to him that I had plans for that food. So now I'm having salad and he's having mexican lasagne. :o( What's really embarrassing is when you have just loaded a large bite consisting of mostly carrots into your mouth and you get a call and have to mute it and chew fast so they don't hang up thinking there's nobody on the line.

I'm going to start keeping a list of stupid email addresses I encounter while on the job. I don't think I'll ever get one to top the very first one though. It belongs to this guy who is married to a lady eight years his senior, with a child from a previous marriage, who has trouble collecting her child support. He's very much the hero of the situation in his own eyes which is apparent from his swaggery and slightly self important manner. So his email address is darkorical. Sic. How pathetic is that, to try to be all mysterious and mystical and then misspell your own email address.

The next email address belongs to a normal guy in every way, maybe slightly rednecky but seemingly very normal until he unleashes this upon me: cominshagme6969. Eeeeuuuuuwwww. And he's married.

I hate when people call in and act like I'm supposed to be impressed with what they are driving. Ok - I don't care what you drive. I like _my_ car.


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