I’m running extremely late for work, don’t know when I’ll be leaving tonight, and definitely will not have time to take lunch. It’s 10:30 – A&W is still selling their bacon and egg sandwich until 11am. Sweet; problem solved.

“Hi, can I have two bacon and eggers with no cheese please?”
“I have to check”
*checking*
*still checking*
*that is a lot of checking*
“They only have one egg, so you can only have one.”

Here’s my secret – I hate fried eggs anyway. In fact, whenever I get a breakfast sandwich from A&W, I open it up and cut the egg yolk out before I eat it. I also cover it in pepper, but that is not the issue here.

“You know what, that’s okay – just make the second one without egg.”
“But they only have one egg!”
“I know – make one with egg, and the other just bacon.”
“Just bacon?”
“Yes, no egg and no cheese – just bacon”
“I have to check”
*muttering*
*no, she just wants bacon*
*no cheese either*
*I know it’s weird, but that’s what she said*
*okay, I’ll ask*

“Do you want cheese on the other one?”
“Nope – just bacon. No egg, no cheese – just the meat and bun.”
“Just bacon? Really? Meat and bun only?”

At this point I’m aware of every single A&W employee staring at me from behind the grill area. They all look utterly scandalized for some reason.

“Meat and bun only. It’s fine, I promise! No cheese!”
*yells back* She just wants the bacon!
*mutter mutter*

“Okay, he’s making some eggs. You want cheese on those?”
“NO! NO CHEESE ON ANYTHING!”
“$4.20, please”
*hands over money*
*gets sandwiches*
*runs to work*

There’s cheese on one of the sandwiches.

I give up.

I called my mom last week, but couldn’t get through. It was the weirdest thing – instead of ringing, the phone beeped at me. Confused, I hung up and redialed THREE TIMES before I realized what I was hearing was a busy signal. Yes, my mother still lives in 1963 – she uses an answering machine instead of voicemail, her caller ID is a small box that requires a separate power supply, and she doesn’t have call waiting so I got a busy signal. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve heard a busy signal? I didn’t know they still existed.

It’s not a good week for technology in my hands. On Monday evening, Shan and I were playing Mario Kart Wii: Tourette’s Edition when the TV went all funny – it looked as though we were playing some fantastical new game that required 3D glasses. After grunting and swearing a little, Ed determined that our TV did .. something. The red and blue are misaligned, and it will cost many dollars to make it functional again. The unit still works, but it’s very hard on the eyes. We *could* fix it, but .. well, I want a new TV. I’ve wanted a fancy LCD or plasma TV for a while now but never really had an excuse beyond “gimmie gimmie”, so we just used our (until now) admittedly excellent television. Fixing the TV *would* be cheaper than buying new, but since it’s almost 10 years old and we didn’t pay much for it (long story, but we got it in exchange for our old 36” CRT unit plus some cash) .. frankly, it’s just easier (and more fun) to get a new TV altogether.

Yay!

We’ll probably list the current set on Craigslist for cheap – anyone handier than we with a frugal mind can probably fix it on the cheap. In the meantime, we get to go TV shopping. I am oddly excited for this, given that I hardly ever watch TV and what I *do* watch wouldn’t gain anything from high def crispiness. Still, it’s a new toy. I enjoy toys.

Nerds Do Thanksgiving 2.0 was on Sunday, and it was a smashing success. It turned into an impromptu photo shoot with much hilarity:

When I write the Great Canadian Novel, this will be the book jacket photo.

I am very studious.

I find my cleavage hilarious.

Please take me seriously.

As awesome as Reilly made me look, nothing in the universe could possibly compare with what he did to Ed:

Hands off people, he is MINE

So much awesome.

And ham. So much ham.

All photos courtesy of Reilly!

a tasty burger
but i asked for no lettuce
it smells like hot death

:(

I planned to spend most of my holiday Monday naked and lounging, but a quick inventory of my remaining crazy pills and exciting new patch of eczema told me I’d be doing otherwise. I reluctantly found myself an assortment of clothes and headed out in the cold November October rain for a trip to the clinic down the road.

I dread going to the clinic, but I don’t have a family doctor yet. As much as I may dislike the random assortment of doctors who don’t really care about my problems, it’s very handy when I just need a quick fix in the form a prescription refill. I gave my name at the desk and was told to take a seat, and did as instructed.

The waiting room was considerably less crazy than I’d seen it in the past, but there were still quite a few people milling about waiting for doctorial attention. I resigned myself for a mid-length wait, and picked up the nearest magazine without babies on the cover.

I was barely three words in when my name was called. The brief flash of disappointment I felt – I really wanted to read that article on colour-changing lipstick – quickly evaporated when I realized that I had been waiting for under a minute, and I was going to get to see a doctor. Score! I should break out in mystery rashes on holiday Mondays more often! I shuffled into a small room, and grabbed another magazine to keep myself occupied.

There would be no reading in this waiting room, either. Within seconds, a doctor appeared through the door.

“What can I do for you today?”

“I have scaly skin and mommy issues.”

“Postpartum or psychological?”

“Definitely the latter.”

“Gotcha. Effexor and Hydrocortisone, coming right up.”

Two minutes later I was out the door and thinking about pumpkin pie.

The clinic may have failed me in spectacular ways in the past, but this time they were for the win. I picked up my prescription (and some bright blue sparkly eyeshadow for good measure) and came home. I have Diet Coke, a kitten sleeping against my bosom, and delicious Thanksgiving leftovers in the fridge. Stuff is good.

I fail at not going to Richmond. I’m off to crawl around in a warehouse again, much to my eternal delight – at least I’m dressed slightly more appropriately this time.

Coming up: something about beds!

Someone slipped me Backwards Sausage (to be known henceforth has egasuas) this morning.

Normally when I have sausage, things are super. The sun is out, birds are singing, bees are trying to have sex with them (as is my understanding) – everything is as it should be to a level of satisfaction that generally only comes from ground meat and a great deal of salt.

Tuesdays are generally a cluster fuck around these parts, so I made a preemptive strike against woe in the form of a sausage patty. This is where the evil egasuas comes in – it wasn’t until AFTER I had eaten my salty breakfast treat that the world started to implode a little. There is stress. Post-sausage stress. That is unheard of, and frankly, I do not approve.

North Vancouver smelled really, really bad this morning. It was incredibly acrid and not at all pleasant. It smelled sort of like a mutant strain of fertilizer cooked up in a lab by some mad scientists bent on creating a race of super soldiers ostensibly to protect us from terrorists but in reality are programmed to wreak havoc and destruction against the weak and pathetic worms of humankind.

Um, not that I would know, or anything.

So hey, I completely urge you to check out this website. Click on a book, and do the preview – it is fucking hilarious. I am so tempted to buy one of these, except for $40 I am pretty sure I could write my own trashy romance that would be a lot filthier and with more tongues in cheek. Still, it is highly amusing:

Kimli didn’t respond with words, but met his lips with her own and kissed Ed until both were dizzy with longing. Unable to deny their desire any longer, in moments they were naked beneath the blanket. Kimli leaned forward until she was a breath away and whispered lustfully, “Gentleman, start your engine.”

Oh, the lols!

For those wondering where I got my Team No Babies hoodie:

Choose Your Team!

That is all.