Thursday, Jul. 21, 2005

on the road to nowhere

Did you see the guy on Big Brother wearing the “Department of Redundancy Department” T-shirt? Maybe I am the last one to see that, but I was laughing my ass off.
Big thank you to everyone who voted for Kitty!
She is currently in 4th place out of 12, and while I would love her to win, the one-eyed dog probably has a lock on it.
If you would like to continue to vote, I will keep the link on my page until the voting is over.
I like the idea of answering any questions people ask me that EvilD and beckers-j are doing. Most of my questions center around food.
Think I have issues?
I guess if anyone wants to ask me a question, I will do my best to answer it truthfully. As we all know, truth is subjective. (Remember that time you saw that picture of yourself and said, “When did I get so fat?” that is what I mean).
The humidity has finally broken and I was a little chilly last night with the window fan on. HOORAY!
Yesterday while riding my *AWESOME* stationary bike, my head was sweating like crazy, but the rest of me (save my cleavage, of course) was relatively dry. And then, when I took the bandana off, my hair was barely wet. Two days ago I was soaked through. Every inch.
You know, I have heard that it is not the heat it is the HUMIDITY. Whoever said that must be really smart.
I am trying like hell to get brother Tom to cut his locks. He has lovely, if straggly, long, straight, blonde hair that he wears in a ponytail. It reached past his would-be bra line. It is too much. He has a great face with terrific bone structure, and his hair is hiding it. I want him to get a long cut a la a modified Ashton Kutcher. He claims his hair is a symbol for him. Kind of a Samson complex.
I think I made him think about it seriously.
He really needs to get a job – and a good one – if he wants to live in NYC. That hair, sorry to say, may disqualify him before he even gets an interview.
It is not fair.
It is shallow.
It is close-minded.
It is reality.
It is not like he is looking to work outside, or in a nightclub. He is looking for office work, or food service, neither of which is likely to accept his hippie appearance.
Yesterday I thought how funny it would be to write about my day like chaos does. Her life is so busy and interesting. My life would look like this:

Got up at 6:45.
Showered, pressed my clothes and left for work.
Stopped at Dunkin Donuts for coffee and reduced carb bagel.
Arrived at work and punched in.
Answered phones, worked on the never ending spreadshit, pretended to get along with co-workers, reconciled accounts, surfed, and punched out.
Went home for lunch and listened to NPR on the way. Checked mail
Let dogs out and put them back, fed Henry, fed Stanley. Ate a salad, and grabbed a diet soda and went back to work.
Punched in, answered more phones, worked on said spreadshit some more, put out fires, smiled sweetly and punched out.
Drove home, listened to answering machine, talked to FIL & BIL outside while playing with dog, rode stationary bike while watching Gilmore Girls, checked email during Rachael Ray, did dishes, cleaned sinks, made dinner, searched for dogs (somewhere outside), watched awesomely bad tv, kissed hubby when he came home at 9:30pm, went to bed.

That is my day any given day of the work week. Usually pick up or drop off OC is in there somewhere, but she was still at field hockey camp. Sometimes in the afternoon I will mow after riding, but it has been too rainy of late.

See why I don’t write that kind of diary?
Maybe I will tell you all about my life before this. . . as long as you don’t take it personally.


(am I the only one completely grossed out by Johnny Depp in Wonka?)

happy to be stuck with you - Sunday, Jan. 01, 2006
the error of complacency - Friday, Aug. 26, 2005
CAN IT - Wednesday, Aug. 24, 2005
Still breathing . . . - Tuesday, Aug. 23, 2005
the big move - Thursday, Jul. 28, 2005