The Way Things Are






Not a foot in the ass.
2006-07-28, 10:27 a.m.

Not trying to update everyday is like not having sex everyday, and if you’re me, that’s a good thing, and it makes you enjoy it ever so much more when you DO have sex update. And if I’m enjoying it, you’re enjoying it, just like sex.

Work continues to suck the life out of me. But I like that. I like it to be busy and hectic and I like the way it makes me feel like I’m a contributing member of society. Also, I like to feel that my eyebrows are participating. You don’t know what that means? Go read here. It will all become clear to you.

See how it participates? I have one distinctly participating eyebrow, and one that merely assists.

Nobody’s here right now, and the phone isn’t ringing, so unless everyone has quit and warshed their hands of me, I’ll take this as a good sign, and I’ll just whip out an update. ‘Scuse me while I whip this out.

Here’s the conversation DW and I had yesterday morning upon awakening:

Me: “I just got 8 hours of sleep, and I’m still SO tired.”

Him: “That’s ‘cause we were goin’ at it last night.”

Me: “We went at it for 5 minutes, babe.”

Him: “Yeah. Well.”

That’s a sign of old age, when goin’ at it for 5 minutes makes you feel like you need 2 extra hours of post-sex makeup sleep.


Here’s how the next week is scheduled to play out.

Today: work work work work.

Weekend: sleep? work work work.

Monday: work work work work.

Tuesday: I’m in Denver doing my very last training thing. If I were skeered of the last class? I’m terrified of this one. Although, I have managed lately to adopt an attitude of “Yeah, what’s the worst thing that could happen? Whatever.” What do you call that? Does it have a name? Fatalism? Nihilism? Shitty attitude? Oh yeah, and Tuesday’s my birthday.

Wednesday and Thursday: I’m in Denver, I’m 42-years-old, and the rest of my crew continues to work in San Antonio.

Friday: Peaches’ last day at work EVER, and where will I be? DENVER. Well, suck it. I had this planned way before she gave notice. Traitor! Fink!

So what happens is, I need to do the obligatory “So Long, Farewell, My Feet Are Stained, Goodbye” celebration on Monday. Monday also happens to be the same day that we have a new big program starting here, and I have a feeling that everyone at the office, Peaches included, will want to be there for that. I’ll have at least a few staff there, but how do I take some of the office to lunch, and not the others who will be off-site participating eyebrow in the new program? It’s my only chance. Do I just take Peaches alone? How depressing for both of us. We NEVER do that.

ALSO. I need to get her a going-away gift. A present. A gift AND a present: it’s a gresent. What do you get a person for a going-away gresent? I’ll have to present the gresent on Monday, as that will be my last chance. Because I’m leaving town for Denver and taking a very scary class on my birthday.

HELP ME. Y’all really. Give me some ideas. Throw me a bone.


These people go 40 in a 55, and WE HATE THEM.

This guy has a set of red, veiny nuts hanging off the back of his pickup. WE HATE HIM.

Does anybody NOT find this repulsive and vile? Is there anybody out there reading this right now that finds the pickup nuts amusing, cute, or otherwise not foul? Let me know. I’m curious as to what makes you tick.


We’re about halfway through Season 2 of 24 at home, and watching this show with DW and me is like a fairly tame, yet similarly entertaining viewing of Rocky Horror. It’s one wisecrack after another thrown out at the screen. Here are my favorites:




“No, but I’m going to need a hacksaw.”

I have noticed that there is a dearth of hugging on 24. These people go through so much together. Terrorists, nuclear bombs, planes going down, explosions, torture, whathavya. And no hugging whatsoever. You can bet that if I worked for CTU, I’m be scurrying around hugging people, crying, blubbering into their shoulders, etc.

(Side note: you can also bet that if my sister was a terrorist with a nuclear bomb set to blow up Los Angeles, I’d be able to recognize her as she casually walked by, even when she was wearing a cheap wig. DON’T TRY AND HIDE FROM ME IN THAT CHEAP WIG, EB.)

And this is when I have to pull myself back to reality, like I do when we’re watching episode after episode, and I feel like I have entered their world, and all I have to do is pick up my cell phone and call the President, and I squeeze my eyes shut, ball up my fists, and repeat to myself as I rock gently “They’re not real. They’re not real. They’re not real.”


For reals, y’all. What does my esteemed organization need to get Peaches for going away? Not a foot in the ass, I already thought of that. Something nice.


Oh! I almost totally forgot. It’s Product Recommendation Friday. Use this stuff from Philosophy AND USE IT NOW. It has cleared up my skin COMPLETELY. You will note that it’s tagged as an anti-aging product, but its first and foremost use is for deeply clogged pores. I’m here to tell you IT FREAKING WORKS. A little anti-aging never hurt anyone, either.

I’m using it along with all of the products in the Acne Kit. I’m askeert to stop using any of it. But the addition of Help Me has cleared up all my pesky middle-aged acne problems. I know it’s expensive, but shit, compare that to a trip to the scoffing dermatologist.

Your dermatologist doesn’t want to see your pimply middle-aged skin. Your dermatologist wants to see flesh-eating bacteria! Cancer with tentacles growing out of it! Big scabby bald patches! Not your angsty clogged pores.

So when you buy the Philosophy stuff, you not only get products that work, less expensive than a trip to the dermatologist, but you don’t have to drive anywhere, or sit in a waiting room, or miss work, or talk to anybody at all.

Do it. DO IT.

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