My tank top is too big, and every time I look down my tits are hanging out (more than usual).
We’re setting up the new Space Station. It’s ok, I suppose – after I get over the fact that they completely ignored the floorplan and sat people all willy-nilly (giving away my spot to the loudest guy in the world, and putting him in the Support section), I’m sure it’ll be just super.
We’re on the third floor now, and our windows open. I theoretically COULD take a flying leap out the window!
I survived yesterday. Someone showed up with a dozen more liquor store boxes, and we did what we could. The office wasn’t completely packed when we left, but what remained belonged to one person who could deal with it alone. I didn’t kill anyone, everything I concern myself with is taken care of, and the rest is Not My Problem. Leaving work early on a gorgeous Friday was a nice touch though; the extra hour and a half of freedom almost made up for the ass marble the size of Pluto (which is a planet, damnit).
I’m sitting here on a Saturday morning in my underwear, and I am out of sorts. Josh and Shan are out of town for the weekend, and Ed is off “entertaining” a coworker. I ended up cleaning the entire apartment by myself last night while Ed was out drinking with his work people, and today he is out taking a visiting coworker to a park and getting sweaty. I did a little more housework – look at me, I’m a Domestic Debbie – and am now verbalizing my angst for lack of anything better to do.
I’m not so annoyed that Ed is gone as I am annoyed that he left the TV on NASCAR – seriously, what the fuck.
This picture was taken a couple of days before our wedding. In the picture are Christy, Heather, me and Ali – all clanmates and bridesmaids:
Three of those girls are currently raising or baking children.
Guess how relieved I am that it’s not four?
Bring on the cramps!
Am I on Candid Camera? Is this some kind of sick joke?
The Space Boss’s Wife dropped off ten boxes yesterday, from the liquor store.
That’s it.
There are no other boxes.
I .. am at a loss for words.
Ladies and Gentlemen,
There may very well come a time when it is appallingly inappropriate for me to wear shoes decorated with hearts and skulls – however, that time is not now. As long as I am able to somewhat draw air into my lungs (my sticky ribs are still acting up) and face an uncontrollable urge each morning to go to work looking like a drag queen, I will wear clothing and accessories that are only startling on me if you know my real age and also are not at as “hip” and “with it” as I am.
Besides, as long as my skin keeps breaking out like a 15 year old soaked in hormonal juices, I should be allowed to dress as though I shop only at Mariposa and Claire’s.
Hilarious Conversations with my Space Boss:
Kimli: Hey boss, we’re moving on Friday and we haven’t packed – are we getting boxes anytime soon?
Space Boss: Oh yeah, we need to organize that.
Kimli: *head explodes*
Oh man! That’s some side-splitting comedy right there that is in no way giving me any sort of stress whatsoever! Hahahah!
Last night’s perogies were made Polish style – I boiled them, then pan-fried them with bacon and onions. They were ok; I still have trouble getting behind the whole “potato stuffed in dough” food group. Ed liked them though, so I guess that is a plus.
I rode Sally to work today, and I’ve already found an errand I can go run that’ll get me out of the Space Station and out scooting around like the wacky hipster I am. Hooray!
I am strangely jolly, but am not currently craving sausage.
I knew it would make me shudder and die a little inside, yet I clicked on it anyway – the headline that says “Doctor finds spiders in boy’s ear”. That’s like, all my nightmares at once. I used to be terrified of spiders making a home in my canals when I was but wee, but my parents always said it was impossible so I should calm down and go to sleep. Well, it’s possible. My parents LIED. I believe I will fill all of my holes with caulk – delicious caulk – just in case.
I’ve been at work for just over 30 minutes and I think I’m going to have some sort of fantastic hernia. We’re moving on Friday. Guess how much of the space station is packed? Yeah, that would be none. Also, the Space Accountant is now doing tech support. I suppose this should make me happy – after all, it’s another body, right? – but .. well, I have a bad feeling about this. None of this is truly my problem, though. I was told not to worry about the move – so I won’t. My desk can be packed in half an hour. So the Space Accountant is doing tech support – not my problem. Sure, I’m trying to maintain some sort of logical support structure, but everything I do is shot down or ignored so I will just shrug and let people fuck up anything they like. Trying to fix things makes me pushy, remember? Pushy and naïve!
Yesterday Shan and I went out and chopped off all our hairs. I’m not quite sure how I feel about my haircut; it’s REALLY short and I feel kind of lopsided and shorn. Shan’s hair is cute though, and mine’ll grow back. Everyone else seems to like it; I’m just .. not sure. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that big a deal. After all, I’m married – I don’t need to look good anymore!
Hyuck.
Weekend was good; there was outside and dog shows and too many tourists and discounts and another trip to MEC. No bike ride though, since I was sore from my pleurisy and yesterday was very wet. This week there shall be bike riding! Verily, I have spoken!
Man, I do NOT want to be here today.
Oh, and I got new shoes and they are SUPER CUTE.
I’m recovering from night number two on melatonin, and I don’t know that I much like it. I find that I absolutely cannot wake up in the morning – I sleep through two alarms and Ed hollering, stirring only because I have to pee. I’m going to give it one more try tonight, this time not doing that thing I do – you know, take the pill then fight off the sleepiness so I can keep playing video games – and see what happens. It’s always an adventure with me, as long as you consider dozing off at your desk and drooling into your ample cleavage a fun time that can’t be beat.
Much to my horror, today I am one of those people. Technically, I *know* why sometimes women will wear nice suits or dresses with hideous running shoes – it’s not for the irony, it’s for the comfort. Still, knowing that does little to keep me from shuddering with revulsion. It’s UGLY. It’s more than ugly, it’s deplorable. It always looks like they’ve gone out of their way to pair the ugliest, off-colouriest shoes and fluffy sport socks possible with their outfit, and it always makes them look short and stumpy even if they’re not. I can’t count the number of times I’ve seen black or navy tights paired with white Reebok trainers from 1983 – so, so awful. Comfort be damned – there’s wanting to be comfortable yet still passably human, then there’s just plain wrong. Today, I am walking that fine line between comfort and wrong. I don’t own white sneakers of any kind, nor do I own tights or nylons, so I’m bare-legged in a fancy pinstriped skirt with Crocs. I have an “appointment” later today that I have to walk to, but my “wear with skirt” shoes render me cripple – so I will walk to the “appointment” in my Crocs, and change into other shoes in the building lobby. Yes, I’m hideous. I get extra points for acknowledging it though, don’t I?
Here is me, as drawn by some guy:
The Space Station VP decided we would all have our picture drawn by a friend of his to put on our corporate website. This one is mine. I like it – I make a sexy cartoon. I don’t know the artist’s name, but he makes a fat girl look good.
Say, who wants to go clean my apartment?
Score one for your hapless astro-heroine – our new business cards are getting printed, and the Space Board approved my title choice of “Internet Superstar”.
It’s the truth, after all.
Big smiles, everyone – it’s another Monday at the Space Station of Madness!
Actually, nothing has happened yet. This isn’t because any sort of sanity has returned; it’s more because I don’t really know what else COULD happen that wouldn’t make me run screaming for the nearest airlock. It’s safe to say my current status is “coping”. I’ll deal with whatever comes next when it happens, with a big cheery fake smile and oozing goodwill because I don’t dare dirty the atmosphere with my cranky aura or logical (but pushy) requests.
I’m sore and apparently a maniac. Saturday was New Bike Day, as both Shan and I got cool new bicycles. Now the 4 of us can (and already have) roam the neighbourhoods as a totally threatening posse on cruiser bikes. Saturday evening was our first group ride, and since I am a walking version of Google Earth, I led us on our first adventure. This is where the mania comes in – I am so used to riding a scooter that can keep up with traffic that I apparently took everyone on a daredevil cruise at top speeds with traffic-winding action. I didn’t mean to, of course – I was just doing what I normally do, forgetting that “normal” does not apply when on a bicycle. We all made it in one piece though, and now the norm is to remind me every few minutes that I’m NOT riding a scooter and need to go at bicycle-speed as opposed to modded-scooter-speed. The reminders are probably a good thing. I’ve already caught myself trying to accelerate with the handlebars more than once, and I really really wish my bike had a brake lock like Sally does.
Getting a bicycle means I can cross that particular goal off my list for the year. Next up: a pug!
Biiiiiiiiig smile.
I know what I *should* do, but I am extremely hesitant to do it. I am pretty sure I have Stockholm Syndrome – I am at risk, but I don’t want to do harm to my captors by alerting the authorities.
Ahhh, teh stockholms!
Personally, I do not want to be called “madam” by anyone unless a) I am running that brothel again, or b) your name is Jeeves and nothing would give you more pleasure than bringing me slippers and a fine cognac.
There was almost drama this morning, and for once it wasn’t happening TO me but rather AROUND me. Some stupid giant SUV at the mouth of the bridge was not playing along, and absolutely refused to let the next car into the line. Well, the car wasn’t having any of this – he forced his way in. He had to gun it twice to get ahead – remember, SUV did not want to let him in no way no how – but Car managed to maneuver into the line anyway. SUV swerved, both drivers shook fists and gesticulated madly, and SUV kept trying to edge back ahead of Car, almost causing a multi-vehicle accident at the same time. I don’t understand why some people are so oblivious to the one-two-one-two – it’s logical, and the only way to make sure traffic is flowing. I nervously kept an eye on both Car and SUV all the way into town, because SUV kept trying to catch up and either get beside or ahead of Car – I half expected the nicely dressed business man to pull out some sort of weapon and bust a cap into Car for his insistence that SUV follow the bridge rules. I would think that perhaps I watch too much TV, but I don’t really watch any so my overactive imagination is at it again. Anyway, it was really stupid. SUV was clearly in the wrong, Car was nuts for forcing the issue, and hey, it gave me something to watch.
Meat made things better. None of my problems are solved and I’m on Day 4 of that headache, but last night we went out and had ourselves some MEAT and I felt better. I fell asleep very early again and couldn’t get out of bed this morning – I think I need to actively avoid the bedroom when I get home from work until it is time for bed for realz yo – but I made it into Space for another day of whatever the hell it is that’s going on.
I know at some point I’ll be able to look back on all this and laugh, but when I’m right in the middle of it all it’s hard to get my giggle on. For the record, I *have* brought up the “employee” vs “independent contractor” thing many times – just a normal part of my boat rocking – but I am brushed off every time. I’ve been reprimanded more than once for attempting to work from home occasionally, which I KNOW they shouldn’t be able to do – given that I’m an “independent contractor”, I should be able to work in my underwear on the roof of the Hotel Vancouver if I damn well please as long as I’m getting my work done – but my inquiries are ignored and I still have to have a little chat with the Space Board every once in a while about my attempted flexibility. Funny, right? You say I’ll be able to laugh at this soon? Do you promise? Hell, even if you did, I’d be naive to believe you!
I’ve become one of those people who spend too much time on Facebook – my past is coming out of the woodwork to haunt me, and I’m equally fascinated and terrified by all the people I used to have crushes on (and those I have crushes on now).
delicious juice dot com 