To: The Lost Target reciept
This teapot is too small and I’d really like to return it. Please come out from hiding.
To: The guy in the mens room making sounds reminiscent of a very wet bed sheet being torn or paneling being yanked off of the wall
Dude, I’m across the hall and heard you through two closed doors. The heat/air/ventilation system didn’t even drown it out. Damn. Just… damn.
How have you been? It’s been a while and I’ve missed you. I’ll stop by soon for some fishyfish goodness.
To: Vosges Haut Chocolat
The Mo’s Bacon Bar I purchased at Whole Foods Market last week was absolutely delicious. The only thing that could make it better would be to have some chocolate covered potato chips while eating the bacon bar. Keep up the interesting combinations of food and chocolate and think about the chips thing.
Yours in bacon-y goodness,
Bowman, you should be a partner on the next trip. On the county line, perhaps?
TNR feral news:
Chloe the ex-momma cat was released this afternoon. Her surgery went well and I learned that she’s about a year old and in good health. She was quiet and almost friendly — to the point of letting me pet her a little bit. She didn’t really enjoy her stay, though, (even with the heating beanbag and the spendy food) and made her displeasure known by pooing in the water bowl.
Awesomeness to the Nth degree:
Even with a few niceties, this week has been a flaming shitpit.
The sun was nice yesterday. And I’m glad it’s not freezing. But that doesn’t make up for this frustration I’m working through at work. My project manager left at the end of last week. In doing so, I was left with the job of training the new guy on how to be the guy I go to when I need help. I’m also helping the accountant learn how to, um, account(?). At least in what I do and need him to do. The downside? Along with training the two people above me on what to do and how to do it, I wasn’t even offered the open PM position, even though I’m the only one working on it that has been involved from the start.
I’ve been wanting to go out for a while now. I don’t know when it happened, but I’ve gotten boring. I don’t really DO anything aside from errands and chores anymore. NOT GOOD. I’m cooking dinner tonight (Sauteed mushrooms, and maybe beet salad. ) and may go see the British Advertising Awards nominees. I was supposed to be doing that regardless, but the schedule got jacked up and when everyone went about with their changes, I was left a bit behind.
Probably like three miles behind, but whatever. The cheese always stands alone, and I’ve always been the cheese.
There’s a frightening local craft show this weekend. I don’t want to be anywhere near the place, but noticed the local ComicCon is in the same building at the same time. I would like to see the out-of-control, bedazzler-ing old woman meet with some costumed characters in the elevator.
I think I’ll take a nap on my contract assigned break. I’m a frustrated, bored, and tired little sausage, and I’ll take any chance to snooze I can get.
For a few weeks now, I haven’t been able to come up with an idea that held my interest long enough to wirte about it. So I give you, dear reader, update via list:
I’m tired. It’s starting to reallyreallyreally interfere with daily life. I don’t know if it’s a lack of sleep at night or if it’s me hating my job so much that I don’t want to wake up in the morning.
I started TNR for the five six ferals in the yard. Right now I have one and a half done (one is at the vet’s office as I type) and have had good luck in trapping them. I hope this beginners luck continues for a while.
Eleven continues to be my favorite restaurant. They never disappoint.
Taken from beckyzoole but posted all over LJ.
“If you find that you care about LiveJournal or care about the people you interact with on LiveJournal or simply want it to remain a place where you can entertain yourself without constant censorship and money-hungry practices being thrown in without the consideration of those who use the service, act now.”
The one-day content strike is on for this Friday, March 21, from midnight GMT to midnight GMT.
For 24 hours, we will not post or comment to LJ. Not in our own journals, not in communities. Not publicly, privately, or under friends-lock.
I received the following email; my comments, in red, follow in a copy.
“THE RULES OF RURAL PENNSYLVANIA ARE AS FOLLOWS:
> LISTEN UP CITY SLICKERS!!!!
> 1. PULL YOUR DROOPY PANTS UP. YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT.
> 2. TURN YOUR CAP RIGHT, YOUR HEAD ISN’T CROOKED.
> Continue reading