The duvet is on the bed and it is beautiful. Only downside is that I didn’t realize that when I ordered the matching shams that you had to buy each sham separately. So now I only have 1 sham. There’s always Christmas.
Happy First Birthday to my Blog (about a week ago).
I think I have a job interview Tuesday morning. But here’s the problem with this: I do not want to go to my job interview. I don’t want to think up a lie to tell my boss (oh, I have to go to the doctor for some tests, la dee dahh). I don’t want to have to wear my stupid too small interview suit. I do not want to have to pour my gigantic ass into a pair of pantyhose. I do not want to havce to make a terrifying drive into downtown Cheesecake City to find out that I’m really not a good match for this job, either, leaving me annoyed, wearing tight clothing and late for work. I emailed the recruiter for some more information (all I know is the name of the company, where they are located, how much they will pay and that it’s a payroll job). I don’t know if it’s a system that I’m familiar with, I don’t know who I’d report to. I don’t know what I want.
(Well, that’s a damn lie…I slept today until after 9 AM and I definitely want that!).
On the bright side, I get paid tomorrow.
And now I have received word that the duvet is on its way…drive faster, Mr. UPS man!!! It’ll be here Friday. I think I might actually have to post a picture of my bed after this thing is on there. If it doesn’t work out right I will be so totally mad.
I lasted exactly that long from when I posted about my dreamy duvet cover from Pottery Barn to when I got tired of tripping on the holes of the old duvet cover and just ordered the damn thing already.
Do I feel guilty for spending the money? Yes.
Do I wish it was freakin here already so I could be all snuggly under it? Yes. Heck yes.
I just removed 2 blogs from my Faves list. I feel so much better. Something that would make that 100 things about Elaine list if I ever finished one would be that I love to be in control of minutiae. How many blogs in my Favorite Places. How many months between each of the EIGHT CHILDREN fathered by one of my employer’s employees. The order of the songs on Fleetwood Mac’s 1988 CD Greatest Hits (RhiannonDon’tStopGoYourOwnWayHoldMeEverywhereGypsyYouMakeLovingFunAsLongAsYouFollow
Okay, I admit it. I was able to list all 16 songs in order, except I had 2 of the last few songs out of order. Once you get past Say You Love Me, it’s totally dicey.
Anyway, it’s not important so I thrive on it. Clean the house? Are you crazy? Fold laundry? Why? Locate any of my shoes? Who cares?
(that was a crummy impression of the Count from Sesame Street)…
Anyway, I have 14 blogs (including this one) in my favorites. Julie’s blog, Erin’s blog, the Eaglesfans blog, Dooce, Chez Miscarriage, Suburban Bliss, the Baby Bargains blog and a few others that I’ve come across from comments on other blogs. I am trying to keep my number of favorite blogs that I stalk daily to a dozen, including my own blog. My Recycle Bin includes 7 blogs that I’ve removed from the Faves lately.
Not sure why this merits posting, actually, but it’s been on my mind. My desire to keep the faves to an even dozen is the new thing I’m obsessing about. I like it because it’s so entirely pointless. I’m thinking about skipping most of the mommy blogs (Dooce, Erin’s Blog, and Suburban Bliss excepted, but, damn, that’s most of them anyway!) because the baby obsession is rearing its head again, so I’m obsessing about that. Hmm, of the 14 blogs, all but 4 are written by parents (exceptions: Julie’s, the Eagles, My Blog, and Mighty Girl).
Wow, if I got any more navel-gazing-y, I think I’d hurt my neck.
Cheesecake City finally got a print of the Aristocrats. It was showing on the pretty people 2 screen (how quaint and…pretty!) theater down in the pretty people neighborhood that we could live in, if only I had an MBA, a husband who played for the NBA, and a trust fund with an IRA. Jeeebus these are some sweet houses…
Oh, the movie! Ummm, let’s see…it’s about the dirtiest joke ever told. The joke is kind of an improv thing that everyone who tells it, tells it differently. Here is the official site for the movie. If you haven’t seen it already, and want to know more, keep reading. Otherwise, just skip it.
Lotta talk of poop, puke, urine, freaky sex manuevers that if I really listed them I’d get some totally effed up hits from Yahoo or something. I thought I’d heard everything back in my internet ‘ho days, but there was something missing. Andy Dick has filled in the missing pieces for me. I now know what a dirty sanchez and rusty trombone are. Here’s the problem-I cannot find the words to accurately tell you what they are. And a web search came up with nada (except a designer named rusty sanchez). So, let’s just leave it at this: when Gene came to bed last night, I told him calmly that if he ever did an R.S. that I would immediately go find a lawyer and take the house, dogs and furniture. And his car. That is, Gene’s house, dogs, furniture and car.
On the way to a late lunch/early dinner, we drove through the dodgy neighborhoods not far away from the cool neighborhoods. I was getting tense, hungry and I had a freaking headache. I was getting sooooo angry because I wanted to stop at a nice, clean restaurant and have a soda and an Aleve. And just when I thought I might completely lose it, Gene said it…
Anyway, the dogs are looking at me and I think they’ve been getting scatalogical so it’s time to motor on…
Woke up about 10 minutes ago.
It’s Saturdays like these that Gene talks about when he makes the case for remaining dogs-only. (Now he can remind me of yesterday’s fence incident. Actually, he’s been very sweet about not being a jerk about it…).
Last night I watered the front and back lawns. (Yard guy aerated and our lawn was bone freakin dry). We only have one sprinkler and quick connect (the dog ate the other quick connect, the piece that attaches the hose to the sprinkler or other water device) so I had to open the gate to get to the back yard to water the back yard.
Long story short, I opened the gate to do all of this. I did not, however, close the gate. Yeah. I’d let the dogs out this morning and everything was fine. I guess shortly after I left was when they made a run for it. A neighbor called Gene and said, I just saw both your dogs run across our yard. (Well, catch them, maybe? Or have you forgotten the time we left your dog in our yard all night? And the time we caught your dog at 6 AM and couldn’t get you to open the door to return him?). Gene went on a search for them, even going so far as to drive up and down the highway that we live off of to look for them. (The highway takes us to Barkin Buddies and they might have known the way).
He didn’t look around the houses near the park about 2 blocks from our house, however, and that’s where they were. Some kindly person let our dogs into their own yard and play with their own dog (“Your dogs played so well!” the neighbor told Gene) and then they noticed the collar with phone #, the AVID tag (the doggy lo-jack, basically) and the other assorted tags that scream GIVE ME MY DOG BACK. “We assumed you wanted them back,” the neighbor told Gene.
Sooo…Dogs escaped, but they are now safe. I wish Gene had worked a little harder to look for them, but then again he had work to do. If he had called me, I would have come home immediately, but my job isn’t super important and it’s not a busy time anyway.
So, that’s my story. I am such an idiot. I let my dogs down. I wasted my husband’s time. What would I do without these dogs? What if they had made it to the highway? What if they’d made it to the big roads? What if that lady wasn’t home? Or didn’t like dogs? These are such good dogs. I love them both so much. I hope this never happens again.
(Yes, I closed the gate a few minutes ago).
Because I am very, very tired. For reasons unbeknowst to me, I woke up at 4 AM with the name of my college therapist on my mind. I’d been trying to remember her name so I could Google her and…sonofagun, 4 AM was when it finally popped out. I’m relieved I was awake for it. Couldn’t find her on Google (could it be her married last name, which had exactly 1 vowel? Maybe!) so I hung out on the internet instead. I hit the message boards at eaglesfans and then at 5:30 (30 minutes before the alarm) I hit the sheets again. Ugh. And Monday night I stayed up until 12 or 12:30 hanging out on the internet. I am so freaking tired. If I had any vacation left, I’d have called into work. No guarantees yet that I won’t.
And, today’s baby related post: ACK!. (Well, now I have to have a kid…if Britney can, I can!)
Had a confrontation with our IT Director (who is in town for a few meetings this week. If he hasn’t already, blessedly, left, it won’t be much longer). All of my log-ins to our POS (that’s piece of shit, not point of sale) software have been deleted, so now I must log in as sysadmin if I want to do any work. My log-ins worked…if I didn’t want to cut paychecks!…and now that I’m between payrolls, I have no more checks to cut and my log-ins are fine for mundane stuff, such as reports. Oooh! And one of my favorite reports is fucked…all…the…way…up, thanks to NO ONE (that is as in, No One Has Messed with Your Reports, Elaine!), and it’s just getting ridiculous. Our dipshit IT Director kept saying, but you don’t need it now, right? And I kept saying, I COULD GET A CALL RIGHT NOW ASKING FOR YOUR WAGES AND I WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO HELP THEM.
Wow, I feel better now.
Check out today’s Dear Abby. It’s a followup to a previous column about a couple arguing over who would be in the room while the woman is giving birth. Make sure you read the bottom most letter. Haha ha!!! (For the record, Gene says he wants to be somewhere smoking a cigar with his brother. I said, good, I don’t want you there!).