The Way Things Are



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I tell you wut.
2006-02-16, 11:19 a.m.

I tell you wut. (WUT!)

All you have to do is take your cell phone to the Cingular store, complain that it wonít speak to your email anymore, have the salesguy snatch it out of your hands, allow him to scroll through the pictures you have stored on said phone, watch him smirk, wonder in terror what picture he has dug up from the depths of your humiliation, and watch as he emails a picture to you from your phone, to convince your phone and your email to start speaking again.

Whew! All he did was email the picture I took at the rodeo of one of the little cows escaping from the cowboys trying to rope him. I always root for the little cows, which is considered ďbad sportĒ at the rodeo, but screw them. I love the livestock, and while I admire the way the horses work with their cowboys, I want the little cows to escape and run around the ring with wild, happy, triumphant abandon.


Run, little dude! Run!

One thing they did speak of at the rodeo (this was last week in case you are not keeping up) was that these cowboys incur all sorts of travel expenses when they go from rodeo to rodeo, so I suggested to DW that we make an effort to sponsor us some cowboys next year by allowing them to stay with us. I spent the remainder of the rodeo dibsing the cowboys I want to cook breakfast for in my shorty bathrobe.

To wrap this part of the story up, of course, I can never go to that Cingular store ever again, but they have a crappy parking layout, and I didnít want to go there anymore, anyway.

And speaking of running about with wild abandon, here comes another abrupt subject change:

I got my new glasses last night, and Iíll make this part of the story short. I still have my old glasses for distance things like driving at night and going to the movies. They are not very strong, but apparently they were the exact wrong thing for sitting and staring at a computer all day.

So now I have new reading/computering/fucking-off glasses to wear at work. They are causing me some spatial relationships distress today as I try to get used to them. I will allow the rest of this story to be illustrated by pictures, which does the favor of bringing us full circle to see that my phone and computer are indeed speaking to each other again without the mediation of a cable being necessary:


Just your typical middle-aged short-haired perky gal.


Why is the room moving around? And when did I get a Caesar haircut?


I really did gag when I took this picture. It was all supposed to be in fun, and I went and made myself do a small, dry hork. Itís always fun until somebody vomits.

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