The Way Things Are



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Iím a badger for this
2005-06-06, 4:05 p.m.

Iím a badger for this HUD paperwork. I am attacking it with a badger-like ferocity.

I weaseled out of a property sale contract on Friday, and will surely be sued. Just waiting for the paperwork to arrive via armed sheriffís deputy, bounty hunter, or process server. I donít get alarmed anymore when armed men show up at the door asking for me.

In fact, I become a little agog and ablaze. I flirt a bit. I disarm them figuratively, not literally. Iím not going for anybodyís gun. Can you see an incident of lawsuit service escalating into a hostage situation? Sadly, Iíll bet that has really happened.

ďYOUíLL NEVER TAKE ME ALIIIIIVE!!!!! What? Oh. Breach of contract. Never mind.Ē

Speaking of weasels, I see that Pauly Shore has some kind of new show coming up on TBS. It is my secret shame that I have always through Pauly is kind of funny, and have watched more than the average personís share of Pauly Shore movies.

Even DW is having a hard time looking me in the eye since I revealed my disgrace.

Now for the obligatory wolverine reference? I got nothiní.

I took Lil Guy to Academy today to get new sneakers. We had a discussion in the car about the lexicon of athletic shoes, i.e. sneakers, tennis, tennis shoes. We havenít quite figured it out yet, but I do have a theory, and I will relate it here as soon as it is gelled. It involves the evolution of athletic shoe-wear in American pop culture. Thatís all I can say for now.

Anyway, then I took him to lunch (itís special summer hours for him and me, donítcha know), and saw the most spectacular, breathtaking comb-over I have EVER seen. And Iíve seen a few in my 40 years. It started on the back of this manís NECK, and swooped all the way to the front of his head. That thing must have been a foot long, because he was not a small man, and had quite a large noggin to sheath in misplaced hair. It made Trumpís comb-over look tame and tasteful.

I wanted to walk up to him and flip it back so I could measure it. Thatís not very good manners, though, so I didnít, although I donít think having a comb-over that can be described as breathtaking is very good manners, either. It encourages inappropriate giggling and snickering in public, and that wonít do.

Speaking of giggling, DW just called me, and I answered in my disguised professional voice in case I didnít want to talk to the caller, so I can pose as my own receptionist (sheís not in! may I take a message?) (what? donít you do that?), and when I said ďName of company, may I help you?Ē he said ďWUH SUUUUUUPÖ.Ē What if it hadnít been me? He has done that to Peaches a time or two, and I can tell when he does, because she cracks right up. You can feel him blushing through the phone.

Anyway, Iím just rambling and rattling today, arenít I? Unfocused much, Laura?

Oh, back to the new shoes for LG. The boy is wearing a shoe a half size smaller than his stepdaddy. I surely and truly hope that he grows to these feet, because if not, heís going to resemble a hobbit. Weíll have to add shaving his ears and toes to the list of preening activities (which as you know, currently include eyebrow plucking, toenail trimming and twice-a-day deodorant).

Maybe he IS part hobbit. That would explain my own short stature and need for 12 meals a day. Second breakfast, anyone?

Oh, yíall. I have just been alerted that we have office drama. Big-time 5th grader type of drama at the other end of the hall amongst the management folks. People taking sides, not speaking to each other, and angrily smoking cigarettes out on the balcony. I have my angry schoolmarm face on, and I WILL go down there and I WILL start swatting hands with my ruler if I have to.

I havenít really experienced intra-office drama since 1998. Sure, Iíve been embroiled in all the other types of drama in that time: ex-spouse drama, sister drama, husband drama, kid in school drama, court drama, emotional breakdown drama, inter-office drama, government agency drama, fried drama, boiled drama, lemon pepper drama, sweet and sour drama, drama scampi, drama fettuccine, drama primavera, drama enchiladasÖ

Where was I?

Oh. The relatively new experience of intra-office drama. I am a born-again drama virgin. And coincidentally, I have a well-documented ZERO TOLERANCE FOR BULLSHIT. The drama majors down the hall, the mother/daughter team who are just oozing it, and then rolling around on the floor in it, had better straighten up or Iím going to pull this office over and start swatting indiscriminately at the folks in the backseat.

We doní got no drama club here. Your dramatic efforts are misplaced and unappreciated. From what I understand, and this is kind of juicy, itís the daughter who is instigating it, and the mother is sticking up for her, has her back.

Iíd like to mosey down the hall and ask her, ďHey, so you do realize you are JEOPARDIZINNG YOUR MOTHERíS JOB with all this bullshit, donítcha? Mmmm hmmm.Ē

And then Iíll smile my evil smile and mosey back to my office.

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