It’s freezing and I’m very cold. It’s 59º, and I know you’re thinking.. “that’s not cold, what’s your problem?” It is too. Especially today. I don’t know why in particular, but the coworker thinks it’s because I’m not wearing socks. Sure, OK. Maybe.

After a fruitless (on her part) argument about turning on the heat, it is on and I am ensconced in a blanket and I am still cold. Grrr.

Now, it’s quite possible it’s because the window is also open. I like fresh air and there is a fly that is in the office that I haven’t been able to annihilate. Damn fly.

The coworker just shut the window again. The fly is still in here, I am still cold and now there is no fresh air.

She says that it’s stupid to have the heat on and the window open… but a) we don’t pay the gas bill and b) the fly won’t die.

Am I the only one who puts on the heat and opens the window? (I do it in the car too.)

For leaving it on my front porch.

That was nice.

You must read my blog and be afraid of the others. Damn straight they’re scary and were going to kick your ass.

Don’t do it again, or I’ll track you down and beat you with a pole.

I know where to get one now.

I’d love to begin this post with something outrageously witty, but all I have is this.

I just drove into a pole. Yeah. I’ll let you laugh for a minute or two…

Alright, so here’s the thing. One of the people we sometimes work with (who bugs me) needed to borrow one of our computer monitors and our easel for a dinner/art show thing here in town. It is located in a historic home that has been converted into a garden/gift shop/place for fancy stuff kinda place. This woman’s car was too small to carry the easel, so she asked me to drop it off. No big deal, it’s only two minutes away.

So, in a torrential downpour, the coworker and I loaded the Jeep and headed to the place. I drove in, muttering about the rain and the lack of good signage (went the wrong way, blah, blah), and spotted the woman’s car. It was right in front of the place, which has a covered porch driveway—does that make sense? There’s a gravel driveway that circles up to the front door, and you can get out under the covered portion and hand the valet your key, etc.

OK, so as I’m driving along the gravel circle, the coworker is spouting about how we don’t even like this woman and why are we helping her etc., and my window was down, so I looked out the window and said, “Shush, my window is down and she might hear you.” And then, from the passenger side, “Watch out, there’s a……”—THUNK.

Damn pole in the middle of the damn freaking driveway. Who does that?!? One pole was along my side, so I was looking at it and it didn’t even occur to me that there was another pole in the middle of the damn driveway. And I nailed it.

Fortunately it was short pole (about as high as my hood), and it came pretty much clear out of the ground—I drove over it.

So we get out of the car and survey the damage—in the pouring rain. I went to the pole and the coworker went to the front of my car—see how nice I am? (Not really, I’m just perpetually scared of people getting mad at me.)

Now, I should probably mention that this is a stuffy function and stuffy people run this place. Bad, bad, bad.

We unload the car, laughing mind you, and talk to the woman we work with and blah, blah, blah. Then we realize that a) we can’t get out because there’s another damn pole, and b) the woman didn’t actually need the heavy easel we brought her so that had to go back in the car. This meant, of course, that we had to go back into the building of stuffy people who now think we’re vagrants. Yes, vagrants. Because we are in jeans and t-shirts, drenched by the rain and laughing hysterically, while they are in dresses and heels with perfect hair. Fabulous.

As we are loading the car again, a woman comes out and says, “How did you get in here?” To which I replied, “Well, that’s actually a pretty funny story.”

She didn’t think so.

She was a little perturbed.

So she says, “I’ll get this pole in the front and you go and get that one out [the one that is basically knocked over on its side] and put it off to the side.”

So the coworker and I walked over and attempted to haul the evil pole, which was cemented into the driveway, out.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING? NOT THAT WAY!!”

Apparently there is a key. The poles come out.

She did not say anything about a key. She just said to pull it out. Sheesh. Ya do what you’re told and the people just yell.

The coworker and I, at this point, are close to hysterics. The woman was lucky we were ladylike enough to just nod and do what we were told.

Oh, and my car, you ask?

The license plate holder needs fixed—desperately.

The coworker has a dentist appointment this morning, so I’m here in the office, all alone.. trying to figure out how to turn on the heat. It’s only 69º, but it’s cold. At least to me.

But it’s Thursday—yay! The day before Friday, and, around here (college town), the first night of the heavy drinking. Not that I plan to indulge in the heavy drinking, mind you. No, no.. I’m going to go home at a reasonable hour and sleep. Ahhhh.. sleep. 🙂

Lately, a very lovely British man has been sending me music. 🙂 🙂 Which makes me very happy, as I am a music whore. Has everybody but me heard of The Shins? Is this a British band that never surfaced in the States?

Pink Bullets and New Slang are by The Shins.

Of course, then Tuesday was new music day at iTunes (yes, my favorite day of the week for that reason only), and Lori McKenna has just put out a new CD. Who, you ask, is Lori McKenna? One of the most brilliant folk writers/singers I’ve ever heard. (And I’ve heard many.)

One Man and If You Ask are two of her new songs. She’s phenomenal.

Oh, I meant to ask.. when I put up music, should I put it all in one file? Does anyone care? Andre puts it into one track, basically, which I kinda like.

Out-of-office emails. Do you know what I’m talking about? The emails that people set up when they go on vacation—typically says, “I will be out of office until…. Please contact… etc.” We publish a newsletter three times a week and an update once a week to a rather large email list. Imagine the number of out-of-office emails that I get. Argh.

People who steal trashcans. Obviously.

My upstairs neighbor, who decided to start building a new bathroom (or something) at 5AM. There was hammering, lots and lots of hammering. And a chainsaw, I swear to god.

The Amazing Race, because they ALWAYS have at least one (this year three) annoying groups of people. It’s family edition this time around, and I swear to god, if I have kids that turn out like some of these kids.. kill me now. One family, mom, dad and two sons—holy shit, every time they came on, I had to change the channel. The anger and animosity caused me physical pain. I hate that. (Of course now I’m addicted to the damn thing and I already have chosen the families I want to win.)

The Internet and blogs. What, you say?! Yes. The Internet and blogs. Because you meet the most incredible people through this damn thing, but you don’t actually get to meet the people. Know what I’m saying? There should be a fund of some kind that provides for people who live whole continents and oceans away to meet in one location and have a damn party. (Something like this song.) Stupid Internet.

Can you tell I’m cranky today? Yes? Good. Please, join me in the ranting.

Last night, admittedly, I had a few drinks and was in a right good mood. Fortunately, I was sober enough (even in the rain), to look for my outside trashcan so I could take it in. It wasn’t there. I looked up and down the street, shrugged and decided I would see it in the morning. It was dark, after all.

I commented on it to a friend, and he said that it probably wasn’t stolen and I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Excellent advice, of course. I do tend to jump to conclusions. So I thought little of it and that was that.

This morning, I looked for my trashcan. It’s a nice one people, almost new, with wheels and handles. Compared to the other trashcans on the street, I most certainly own the winner.

Someone stole it. I am pissed now.

So what do I do? Should I wait until next week and see if someone puts it out? Their garbage in my can.. the horror. Should I creep about behind the houses looking, until someone calls the cops? Should I just assume my landlord took it into her garage? (For what reason, I have no idea, but it is possible I suppose.)

Stupid people stole my trashcan. Grrrr.

UPDATE: They gave it back!

Do you know what sucks? When I can’t sleep and all of you people can.

It’s pouring rain, and outside my bedroom window there is a drainpipe. It makes the most raucous noise and aside from the fact that I had vodka for dinner and am now wired from that, I can’t even attempt to sleep because it’s so darn loud.

It sounds like I live in a waterfall.

I used to want to live in a mushroom (I wanted to be a Smurf), but never a damn waterfall. Mushrooms are quiet. And you’d never go hungry. Snack before bed? Sure, just peel off some wallpaper. Got the munchies while watching TV? No problem, you aren’t using that couch cushion anyway.

I said I was awake, not lucid. 😛

At some point today, I hit 5,000 visitors.

To the blog world: you like me, you really do!

Thanks 🙂

The coworker and I have had a particularly intriguing ongoing conversation for a few weeks now. It revolves around guys who stare, whistle and catcall when we walk down the street. My inclination is to ignore them and chuckle, ’cause it cracks me up and, well, it’s kinda flattering. Depending on the situation/person, I’ll respond with a smile or a “Hey, you too,” response. The coworker, on the other hand, more often responds with a one fingered salute or a “Well you don’t.” And every time she does, I am appalled and we debate the commenter and the comment. We have decided that she a) gets it more often than I (undoubtedly) and b) has grown up in a town where it’s very common and very low-class (what they say, etc.). On the flipside, I grew up where when it did happen, it tended to be subtle and often nice.

This afternoon as I was unloading groceries from my car (real sexy, no?), a car with two guys in it pulled down my street. The passenger leaned out the window and, oh so sweetly uttered, “Hey there baby. I’d like to show your backend this backseat.” Attractive, right? Makes you want to just jump in that backseat, right? Yeah.

OK, so I rolled my eyes, ignored them and continued unloading. They parked about two houses down and continued staring in my direction. (Which I found highly entertaining—I was in jeans and a sweater people, it’s not like I was sporting a mini skirt and heels.) Anyway, a young woman came out of the house and climbed into the backseat. (I live on a street where most of the homes have been converted to apartments.) They did a U-turn and began to edge out.

Now, I assumed at this point that they would pull onto the main street and go about their business—after all, they now had a female (pretty cute, and young, too) in the car. But nooo, that would be too easy. The guy spoke again. This time it was a far more endearing “C’mon hot stuff, I could show you a great time.”

Normally I’m a nice person, but this was just ridiculous, childish and rude. So I turned, walked over to his car and responded, “Now, I realize that you’re about three years shy of being able to drink legally, and so I’m sure your age is a factor here, but that’s no excuse for being a rude, revolting little punk. Grow up. Women like me never, ever go for children.”

Mouth agape, he just stared at me. The girl in the back moved about uncomfortably, and the driver just started laughing. “Man, she told you. Damn.”

I don’t like being rude, but while I can appreciate a compliment and even a whistle, this was just wrong.

So coworker, are you proud of me now?

So I worked today.. woohoo, Saturday in the office. Kill me now. We ran labs, so we had the added bonus of having the Boss come down for a few hours. Eh. No fighting, and no yelling… but our workload increased significantly. Love that.

And then I just found out that NBC moved The West Wing to Sunday night. WTF?! That’s the night shows go to die.

Miserable corporate bastards…::::grumble, grumble::::

But I did get my oil changed today (only 1500 miles overdo)… and I got a discount. 😉