Wednesday, December 26, 2007, 6:48 PM
Got some stuff to share.
Can't because of dial-up and other time issues. Mouse cursor keeps disappearing.
But wishing everyone and all Happy Fricking Holidays.
And, um, have you heard The Telephone Song lately?
When I'm, like, shaking hands with DSL again.
Until then? All I have to say, all I have to REITERATE, is that flying during the holidays is worse than giving up a kidney! Without anethesia.
I hate you, United. Hate you. You ARE going to refund me half of the money I spent that day in the LAX terminal.
Best call-out excuse for work EVER
"I gave a child up for adoption nineteen years ago," she told her supervisor. "He called me this morning because he found some photos with a letter I wrote to him when he was two days old. He wants to meet me. I can't stop crying."
It gets better.
Her new supervisor also gave a child up for adoption and has been looking for that child for years without success. So my sister and the supervisor were both crying two minutes into the call.
I can't believe it myself. My sister had one child, then had the one she gave up for legitimate, personal reasons, then had two more children. She's always been worried about what that child would feel. Why did she give me up when she kept the others? I get a lump in my throat thinking about it and that's just a tiny spec of the hell she probably felt.
She is thrilled beyond anything, and so is the son she gave up. You see? Just when you think you can't take one more horrible thing on top of another--especially when it's during the holidays--an unexpected miracle can happen.
You don't even have to believe in miracles.
And NOW I am in the holiday spirit.
Freckled girl in stuffy Los Angeles
Anyway, I opened my bedroom window--which is also my living room and dining room window because I live in a studio apartment--and I burrowed under a sheet and TWO blankies. It was wonderful. I don't miss snow, I don't miss ice, I don't miss the zero temperatures at o' dark thirty on a work day morning, but I do miss the kind of cold weather good for bed cover burrowing.
It also doesn't feel like Christmas to me when it's sixty degrees outside. So I'm glad it's 48-degrees in L.A. (Hah!)
I found a pattern of freckles on my arm that look like The Little Dipper. At the time I discovered this wonderous thing, my nose was level with my arm and I was thinking that my arm hairs looked a bit unruuuly. And um, should I try Nairing the hair off? And then my eyes crossed and I saw. The Little. Dipper. Can't believe I've never spotted it before now, but life is full of surprises and hey, you never know what you'll discover once you slow down and play turtle.
On my way home from work Monday, a celebrity stopped at a coffee shop I pass. Actually, the celeb sent his or her gopher into the coffee shop while the celeb stayed in the SUV in the effing street. Cars were going crazy honking. Cameras were flashing like strobe lights. I couldn't see who it was because the SUV's windows were black and it was already dark outside, but the sidewalk outside the shop was thisthick with people. Impenetrable. (And I had to pee, too.) There was also some jerk standing in the roadway, right in front of the SUV, with a video camera aimed at the windshield. It's not the sight that affected me, but the underlying mania I felt coming from the people on the sidewalk and around the vehicle. They were like starving dogs going for raw meat. Loud, animal-like, unaware of anything but the meat.
Unless it was Keanu Reeves in the SUV, I just don't get it.
Socks. I stuff one into the other. Growing up, though, Oogie instructed us to tie them into a knot. My ex preferred to have them folded. So I've been wondering about the complexities of freshly laundered socks and what it means if we prefer to stuff, fold or tie them. You know, like dream interpritation. I figure stuffing one sock into the other reveals laziness because it's fast and easy. Stuffed socks are bulky and take up extra room in the drawer.
Tying socks takes coordination, time and patience. Especially if you tie the knot too tightly, which means extra time will be spent in getting them untied. (Oogie is nuts.)
Folding, I think, reveals a tidy nature. If you fold the socks instead of stuffing or tying them, they will lay flatter and come out of the drawer unwrinkled. This should be the preferred way of sockage.
But I like to stuff them. It's liberating.
But then I decided to have a glass of wine. And then another. And then...I called friends.
Work is crazy. It entails me staring at a computer screen 7.15 hours a day. By 3:00, my eyes are crossing.
And this week? Well, as you've no doubt deducted by now, I've eschewed staring at my own computer screen. Pfft.
I'm still hereabouts, though. Still reading yours. Do you doubt it?
Doggie kidney stones.
X Marks the spot.
Ants in the sausage.
Kitty barf, vacuum fires, conscientious husbands, oh my.
Swimmin' pools, movie stars.
It's Friday. The weekend. Go be irresponsible fuh eff's sake.