When I got home from work on Friday, I saw something sparkly in the lobby of our apartment building out of the corner of my eye. I leaned in for a closer look, and was amused to note that it was a tiny shiny silver heart – a piece of confetti. Someone had a party in our hallway, and it was very festive.

As I headed to the stairs, I saw more hearts. There were more than a few – in fact, there were a trail of tiny silver hearts heading right up the stairs. I followed the breadcrumbs, and was startled to note that the trail of hearts led right to my apartment door.

Three scenarios immediately popped into my head:

• This was an extremely subtle attempt at seduction
• Ed had some nude and possibly fabulous guests while I was at work
• Someone – possibly Ed – pooped all the way up the stairs and ran into my apartment to hide their shame

The real truth is never, ever as exciting as it plays out in my head.

It turns out that Ed opened a seemingly innocent envelope that we got in the mail, and was horrified to discover the thing was booby-trapped with an enormous amount of blue glitter and silver hearts. It got *everywhere* – his clothes, his pants, in his helmet, and all over the carpet. He went upstairs, dropping confetti with every step and left the envelope outside our door because he didn’t want to bring the glitter into the house. Personally, I would have loved a confetti party all up in the living room – it would have been so very entertaining.

Okay, I was tagged with this meme on Facebook but that is not how I roll so I am doing it here instead:

15 Albums That Changed My Life

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Does anyone need a rodeo clown?

Ed lost his job yesterday, thanks to TEH RECESSION and the fact that AIG (that’s not a cute nickname; he really did work for AIG) sucks at pretty much everything. He worked for the side of the company that financed insurance premiums (I think – I’m a terrible wife because whenever he described his work I sort of glazed over and started to drool; it’s a thing I have against numbers and people who work with numbers and let’s face it insurance is not the most exciting thing in the universe and I am incredibly petulant when things don’t entertain me), and even though he and all his coworkers were told that things were awesome and great and rainbows would be shooting out of everyone’s asses any day now – well, they came in yesterday morning and said “AIG Credit Canada no longer exists, so .. see ya”. So not only did Ed lose his job yesterday, all his coworkers in three cities also lost THEIR jobs and it was sudden and unexpected and everyone is sad and sort of in shock. Today is the first day of the rest of their lives, and no one really knows what they’re going to do, especially Ed.

I feel badly for him, but things are going to be fine. They were given severance (and a REAL severance, not just the minimum mandatory two weeks and a pat on the back), he’s got a lot of contacts in the industry, he’s really good at whatever it is that he does, and people really like him. He was feeling a little better last night (all the strange lovey-dovey text messages from his former office wife must have helped, but that is all I will say about that), and hopefully he gets to the point where he sees that this is a fantastic opportunity for change because AIG treated them pretty badly as employees and maybe now he can find something that is awesome.

It’s strange, but I’m somewhat jealous of the whole situation. Not that he lost his job – I’ve been there too many times to count – but the fact that his entire office is really quite devastated that they’ll no longer be working together because they .. like each other.

I’m friendly with people I work with, but I’ve never had anyone cry at my departure. I’ve always thought there was something off about me – something that keeps people from getting too close for fear I might attack in the shadows and drink their blood or something – but I don’t tend to make close friends at my places of work. If I left the Lab tomorrow, no one would cry to see me go – they’d shrug, say “man she had a lot of toys at her desk”, and life would go on. People don’t dislike me; they just don’t seem to know what to do with me. I’m really quite harmless, if a little – okay, a lot – strange. LOVE ME! WHY WON’T YOU LOVE ME?

I’m almost positive it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I just donated a big box of books about murder, serial killers, crimes and punishments, and outrageous scandals to our book sale.

Anyway. Ed needs a job sometime soon so we can use his severance for an entirely different kind of evil rather than paying bills and keeping a leaky roof over our heads for the next few months. I am still determined to get to Alcatraz sometime this year, so things should clearly maneuver themselves so that things go my way. The universe shouldn’t mess with me; I’ve read way too many books on crime and forensics to NOT know the proper way to dispose of an unwieldy corpse.

boom

When the only lip balm you can find at 7:30 in the morning actually does double duty as a strawberry-flavoured “nipple nibbler”, really – what other kind of Thursday could you possibly have?

We’re having a charity book sale at work, fueled by donations people have brought from home. I’m going to bring in some books tomorrow – I have large number of books I don’t think I’d miss – but I went today to see what my co-workers read when they’re at home.

In addition to a couple of books on photography, I shamelessly bought something called “The Reluctant Suitor”. It claims to be “genteelly steamy”. I am highly amused and cannot wait to throw myself into a world of heaving bosoms and turgid members.

Even though this purchase was made without shame, I *am* somewhat startled to realize that I actually already own a book written by the same author. It was a gift, given after my surgery in ’03 to aid in my recovery. As I recall, it actually made things worse – something about not laughing yourself sick when you’ve got holes in your belly – but it was extremely entertaining at the time. I’m sure this will be no different, as the first line of the book is:

Lady Adriana Sutton whirled through the gracefully arched portico of Randwulf Manor, spilling effervescent laughter over her shoulder as she deftly avoided the reaching hand of an eager young swain.

Yeah, this is going to be awesome.

My Hello Kitty calendar tells me today is Ash Wednesday, and the first day of Lent. I am not religious, but I am intrigued that people give up things in an effort to appease their god for transgressions committed in the previous year.

The traditional definition of Lent and repentance, according to the internet, is an admission of guilt, promises not to do it again, and restitution for whatever sins were committed. I can understand the whole “oh man I did something really bad and I swear I will never ever do it again and I will totally pay for the damages I caused when I got it into my head that naked bull riding was totally acceptable in the coffee shop down the street” angle, but I am confused as to where the “I will give up chocolate for 40 days” comes into it. Are you going without something you enjoy to prove you love god? Is it a guilt thing – you’re punishing yourself to make up for your life of filthy degrading sin? Help a heathen out – what’s the deal with Lent?

I know I am not “required” to observe Lent given that I am a godless barbarian, but my Lentils (that’s what you call the things you give up for Lent, right?) are coincidentally the very same things I pledged to change for a healthier lifestyle and also some free stuff:

1. Quit smoking
2. Quit drinking
3. Cut back on bacon milkshakes

.. I am so going to rock at Lent. Lenting is fun!

I smell phantom soup. My Canadian Heritage Moment has progressed from breakfast to lunch.

I can’t stop biting my lip.

While that might sound harmless and perhaps even a little endearing, what I *really* mean is that I cannot stop biting THROUGH my lip and son of a bitch it hurts like the Dickens.

The inside of my lower right lip is swollen from repeated chomps, and every time I eat something I inevitably bite through the tender flesh and it bleeds and is painful and I look like I’ve been punched several times by large men with big gloves.

I’m sadly sort of used to it by now, but today it actually made me cry: I bit through my lower lip while eating a piece of flatbread with buffalo sauce on it.

Tangy, spicy, vinegary buffalo sauce.

I get it, universe: you think I suck. I’m crying uncle now, okay?

It feels weird to not be live blogging something, but after three solid days of posting my every vapid thought as it occurs, it’s almost soothing to go back to the basics.

I’m pretty freaked out by my cold/flu thing. I’ve been sick since friggin’ Tuesday, and there doesn’t appear to be an end in sight. There are only two things making me feel mildly upbeat about it all:

• I only get sick like this every two years, if that
• this stupid thing seems to be morphing daily

The last two days I’ve been unable to breathe because of congestion, but this morning things seem to have settled into my chest and I’m also dopey as all hell. This is a new development to be sure, and hopefully the last stage – where else can this thing go? I’ll take a cough and sexy whiskey-soaked voice over the other 9 symptoms I’ve had, any day.

One of the cats – I don’t want to point fingers, but Lemon is a bastard – managed to open iTunes and start a playlist on my laptop in the living room. Getting out of bed to investigate and turn off the music took most of my energy, so it’s clearly time to go back to sleep. I have some exciting news to share that I’ve been saving for a moment of lucidity (silent or otherwise – hey there, 1990’s prog metal flashback), so here’s hoping I’m better soon so I can do it some justice.