I don’t believe in soul mates, but I don’t tell him that.
2006-04-26, 12:05 p.m.
I love making fun of the spelling mistakes people make in business emails, and how those typos can change the whole meaning of the sentence. I’m not perfect, but I do try not to make a fool of myself. For example, I received this just a few minutes ago:
“Adam recieved the package send on Friday the 21st.We have not recieved the revised correction seeds of trust that you say were sent Monday the 24th”
Apart from the misspelling of “received”, which was done twice and was therefore NOT a mistake but is now apparently a tradition, and “send” vs. “sent”, and the lack of sentence-ending punctuation, ponder for a moment upon the concept of “seeds of trust”. I’ll wait here while you do. It takes property ownership to a whole new level.
These are attorneys, by the way. Please be sure and proofread anything your attorney prepares on your behalf.
Here’s the response I sent to this cabal of attorneys who are convinced I did not send out their precious seeds of trust like I purported to have done. Please note how patient and polite I am:
“(Tracking link) This should allow you to see the tracking info for the package. If it doesn't let you in, because this is our passworded DHL account, you can track the package by tracking number blah blah blah. It was signed for on 4/25 at 9:08 a.m. by David Whatsits.”
And here’s what I secretly sent to MY own attorney, and not the cabal:
“If you look closely, you will see that the words "Bite me bitch" are embedded in code in my email. It's the Da Laura Code.”
And here’s what he said back to me:
“When I hit my "reveal codes" button, it appears! It’s a great button.”
HA! Some days, I love my job, or at least the snarky shenanigans that happen behind the assholes’ backs. Reveal codes. Reveal snark. The Da Wenchy Code! Oh, why didn’t I think of that sooner? It’s perfect.****
Now is the time at Laura Flea when
we dance we dissect last night’s American Idol episode.
Katharine: not too bad, yet boring. Nice white undies. At least she was wearing some. I’M NOT. Or am I?
Pickler: not very good. I do like the twangy version of Unchained Melody, but not when Pickler sings it. That high note made all our eyebrows go up and merge with our hairlines of their own accord. And DW’s bald, so you can imagine how far up his eyebrows had to go. Even the dogs’ eyebrows went up.
Paris: I missed it because I just didn’t care. I predict she’s going to sing her swan song (her swang) tonight.
Taylor Hicks: MUST.BE.STOPPED. What is it? Why do people vote for him? What a doofus. Can you imagine being asked to dance at a bar by him? You’d have to go home afterward and find a new bar.
Elliot: good, actually, REEEAAAL good, but he didn’t make me cry. But then, I wasn’t drunk, either. YET.
Chris: sang DW’s favorite Bryan Adams song, “Have You Ever Really Really Really REALLY Loved a Woman”, which I had never heard before in my life, and my poor sweet husband DID CRY. Good thing I’m a robot and dead inside to boot. Sheesh.
If you will remember, DW cried last summer at the Concert in the Park when our friend’s band played “There ain’t no good guy…there aren’t no bad guy…there’s only you and me and we just disagree…” “Whoa oh oh oh. Oh oh ooooh…”
You know the one. He gets a little weepy whenever we argue. What had we disagreed about? The relevance of park rangers.
It’s like the fact that we don’t agree on every freaking little THING just shatters his illusion of our soul-matedness. I don’t believe in soul mates, but I don’t tell him that.
DW’s still a little fragile from our argument the other night. What did we argue about then? The relevance of the Beatitudes (from the Sermon on the Mount) in the world today.
I am over it and slept like a baby made of rocks last night. Not like an actual baby, because I did not wake up hungry every hour, nor did I shit my pants. Like a baby made of rocks, i.e. I did not move, and may not have even breathed.
To the Divine Miz S: I didn’t get married for the sex. It’s good and all, but I was doing just fine getting laid without getting married. God bless ya for thinking like that, though.
But it’s all well and good, and hopefully now he knows that I have my opinion, he has his, and if he can't handle the difference, don't even talk to me about it.****
Let’s see. What else? Oh yeah, new car! It’s short and stubby like me, and doesn’t have to drink much to go for hours, like me. It’s white (again, like me), is surprisingly roomy on the inside, has the teeniest little engine you’ve ever seen, and a battery that you could wear on your arm like a purse, it’s so cute and small.
Lil Guy loves it, and I am letting him drive it through the back country roads of our subdivision sometimes.****
And last, water storage tank is GO. DW went so far last night as to apologize to me for not taking care of it when we were building the house. He explained that his goal was to get water to the house, and he neglected to think about making sure our well and all that scary underground bullshit was up to par for the long haul.
I had to tell him that we achieved our goal: we got water to the house. We’ve had problems with it twice, and now it’s all going to be taken care of. No more dirty filter full of mud, no more sediment clogging up the cold water lines. It’s cool, but I find it secretly vindicating that he apologized to me: it’s something that I had wanted done and he felt that I was (1) nagging and (2) looking for things to spend money on unnecessarily whenever I spoke of the tank.
And he was wrong, as usual. When will he learn that I am always right?
Well, my friends, I am off to buy shoes, because Rowdy Roddie Piper the puppy chewed up a very nice, new pair of shoes last night. Well, just one shoe, but what the hell am I going to do with the one shoe that’s left? I had to explain this to DW. Right. I’m off.
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