The Way Things Are






Dressing down Friday
2004-03-26, 9:53 a.m.

Politics and ranch dressing

I have a new hero, and she is Sund*ry. How cool and fun and funny and light-hearted. Like conversing with a friend. It's like reading a fun chatty email from my west coast buddy every morning. I agree with the not-here-to-take-a-stand on anything stance - others do a much better job of it, and as we might all know now, I don't give a big rat's ass about federal politics. It's the local honyocks that have the powers to make meaningful change, good or bad, in my life. Any large-scale national changes will be quickly reversed when the next regime comes in. Except war, and I happen to agree with the war. Remember that sad scary feeling of dread and anger on September 11th? Remember how you wanted our military to fly across the world and drop every fucking bomb we had on those MF's and turn Afghanistan and the rest of them into a parking lot? Remember? Well, luckily cooler heads prevailed and we are having an orderly war, not a full-scale middle east paving, as I would have had it were I the King of the Earth that day.

Um, okay. Now for my local political stances. I've already said that any politician that comes out and says "protect marriage from WHAT?" gets my vote and their sign in my front yard. My other planks are legalization of you know what (not that I ever smoke it, but think of how mellow all the assholes would be), and abolishing the property tax. I hate that rat bastard property tax. Increase the sales tax! People with the lone*star card can have a special food item sales tax abatement, but the rest of us can stand to pay sales tax on food and the like, and protect our homesteads and affordable housing. Commercial property, tax the hell out of it. Affordable housing - don't touch it.

Why does my stomach feel full today? Blech. It's empty, so it shouldn't feel all big and poochy. But yet, here it is. Hanging over my jeans. Hanging out, sitting in my lap, checking out the floor beneath my chair. Saying hi to those who wander haplessly into my office. Stomping all over the notion that I might be slim. You think I'm tiny? Well, say hello this THIS!

In other news, my upper body - biceps, shoulders and back-fat were itchy on my walk-jog this morning. Hopefully this bodes well for my continued fat loss. Except for my very full yet hungry belly. This isn't making any sense. Maybe it's water. Yeah, it's water. I'll start peeing any minute now. Hooray for indoor plumbing!

And in yet other other news, DishWasher (DW) came home at 3 this morning after the flag football extravaganza. Am I angry? No. Miffed? Not really. Intending to passive-aggressively be a bit snippy with him just to toy with him a bit? Mebbe. I might bat him around a little just for my own amusement. I mean, a married man doesn't get to play football all evening and then drink beer and play pool at his buddy's house (actually, my hero KB the attorney) til 3 a.m. without getting a little shit from his wife. His long-suffering wife. Oh woe is me. I put with so much: a man who adores me and thanks God for me and my son every day...a man who worships my naked body...a man who treats me the same way he feels about me, like a freakin goddess...a man who makes me laugh and in turn laughs at my jokes, at least the ones he gets...HEY!...who is a real father to my kid. You know, the whole thang.

This here new management company business is just humming along. Things keep falling together in ways that make me realize that this is definitely the way to go. As long as nobody serves me with a federal subpoena, I'll be happy.

Have heard nothing more from the angry former in-laws, nor the angry and maladjusted XH. All o' y'all just get on out of my ass with yourselves, live your own lives, and let me get on with mine.

Why does my office smell like ranch dressing? Mmmmmm...

I have made abnormally productive strides in reducing the amount of ignored work sitting and festering on my desk this week. Since I have short stack with loads of responsibility and dread and doom woven into it, I shall get to work.

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