Yet another meme, because I don’t have any adventures to relay.

This one requires some active participation from the readers - here’s what you do:

Think of 3 pictures you’d like to see. Leave your suggestions in the comments. Things around my house or whatever… something I can take a picture of easily. Once I have enough requests (try to have them in before noon PDT tomorrow) I’ll start posting them. If I can’t (or won’t!) take a picture of something, I’ll let you know.

Someone started it, Jane did it, Mac’s doing it, and now it’s my turn.

Bring on the suggestions!

I have just discovered something totally neurotic about myself.

I have a corporate logo coffee tumbler that I swill my caffeine from daily.

I can’t begin drinking, until the mouthpiece is centered over the logo. If the logo isn’t facing me all nice and neat, I can’t start drinking.

Bring on the rubber room.

If I ever again say “I have nothing to wear,” someone needs to smack me.

Because this gigantic pile of laundry that I’m about to scale strongly suggests otherwise.

Someone please send oxygen…

If only my inconveniences and distractions were as small as keeping a couple of dimwitted wannabe thieves out of my house while I’m alone at Christmas time by rigging up potentially dangerous but ultimately amusing booby traps using toys and household items.

I wish.

Instead, I’ll just adopt the scream and try not to kill anyone who interrupts me for the rest of the afternoon.
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Observations on the weekend, in point form:

-Snuggling is good. I got to do a lot of it this weekend. Well, a lot compared to the amount that I have been lately. Must engage in more snuggling - now recruiting possible snuggle companions.

-Beer is also good. Even better when you throw caution to the wind, and drink lots of beer, then eat pub food then go pass out, and wake up the next day and calculate your points and realize you haven’t screwed yourself after all! In fact, I still have 3 flex points left for the week. Amazing but true.

-I am ill equipped in my old age now to party. I was not out late on Friday night, did not throw up even once and suffered only a mild hangover. I was asleep before 2am, and up at 9:30. I did put in 5 hours of work on Saturday, but that entails sitting infront of a computer - not exactly physically taxing. Regardless, I fell asleep around 9:30 Saturday night and slept through until 8:30 Sunday morning (interrupted once to migrate from the couch to bed).

-Sun is good. Must make effort to enjoy sun while it lasts. Note to self - get your lazy ass outside.

-I have pretty new earrings to go with the hot boots. Still recruiting for hot date (note, not a late date - have established that I do not stay up late). Willing to kill 2 birds with one stone (see snuggle partner above).

-As if I hadn’t slept enough, it’s past my bedtime already. Hasta tomorrow folks.

Hah. Brittney Spears has covered Bobby Brown’s My Perogative.

Should I start a pool for when we figure she starts smackin Kevin around and saying “Crack is Whack?”

I am possessed. Someone gave me a points calculator yesterday, and I have become totally and utterly obsessed with calculating the points value of everything. Every. Single. Item. Of. Food. Ever.

(Disclaimer: Hi, boys? Still cute over here! Not Elephant! Don’t be fooled by the “diet”! Hot boots still need hot date!)

So yah. I gleaned some sort of perverse satisfaction last night from calculating that the Real Cream Vanilla Ice Cream with Smucker’s Chocolate Shell that I ate yesterday was worth approximately 75% of the points I’m supposed to be eating daily.

But it was the last overt display of junk food in the house. I had to get rid of it, right? And throwing it away would’ve been a waste, right? Right? RIGHT? Yah, I thought so too.

Not only was the ice cream the last junk food in the house, it was kindof the last food too. Unless you count that one lean cuisine left in the freezer, or the lime in the bottom of the vegetable drawer. And I’m going to try really hard to not be the woman in the grocery store with her points calculator out, ogling the Nutrition Labels of every item of food that I pass by.

Oh who am I kidding. I’m TOTALLY going to be that woman. Now if you’ll excuse me, I see some chocolate almonds whose value hasn’t been assessed yet…

\Hy*per”bo*le\, n. [L., fr. Gr?, prop., an overshooting, excess, fr. Gr. ? to throw over or beyond; “ype`r over + ? to throw. See Hyper-, Parable, and cf. Hyperbola.] (Rhet.) A figure of speech in which the expression is an evident exaggeration of the meaning intended to be conveyed, or by which things are represented as much greater or less, better or worse, than they really are; a statement exaggerated fancifully, through excitement, or for effect.

99% of the content on this blog is hyperbole. Except the part about how cold it’s been in this part of the office - it really is that cold. Other than that though, It’s usually written to be entertaining. My life is far from that exciting - so I live vicariously through the imaginative crap I post on here.

Why am I bothering to try to clarify? I am dumb enough to have a link to this site on my MSN profile. So every time I add someone to my messenger list (lately, it’s been boys that I might like to date one of these days), that new contact inevitably checks the profile, and comes here to read (hi everyone!). That means lately they’ve been getting stories about condoms and lube and turkey and freezing and black leather boots.

I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s much of the reason our encounters never move very far past one or two messenger chats. But to hell with them! If they can’t appreciate my creativity and oddball sense of humour, who needs em!

Then again, I also have this picture as the front picture on my profile, so I’m pretty much asking for trouble.

Ah hah. The cool boots have found me. Women know what I’m talking about. You don’t find great shoes, they find you. They whisper, purr, draw you in, then wrap your feet in soft, soft leather and promise to take you anywhere….

Now I just need a hott date to take me and my hott hott boots out on the town.

This training room is still damn cold. They dangled hope in front of our faces by saying that “there are now three heating complaints for the [bigass] building - so I guess we’ll have someone come in to fix it.” But we are not fooled! And it is still not fixed.

What we are is prepared. We each have a small space heater under our desks. One of the girls brought in some baby blankets for our legs. I am wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, hoodie jacket & puffy vest on top; jeans, warm socks & boots on the bottom.

The only downside is that I have to take off the jacket & vest & blanket every time I leave the room (or risk passing out from heatstroke) - then shiver while I don them again when I return.

Last year when I was working for the tiny start-up company, it was housed in a crappy building where the heat didn’t work and the landlord didn’t care - and I was dressing much the same way. Now that I work for a big national bureaucratic company, I’m in the same stupid boat, because maintenance has to tread through so much red tape that the heat will likely be fixed just in time for next summer.

I guess it’s time to stock up on sweaters.

Hi.

Comments are broken.

Will inform when fixed.

That is all.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled lives.

Update: 8:05pm - and they are fixed. The Donnanator strikes again and saves the blogosphere!

Oh. My. God.

I’m in another training class this week, and the room we’re in is BROKEN.

Well, the room isn’t broken, but the Air Conditioning is. Broken in the way that means it Won’t. Turn. Off. At All. Ever.

Thank goodness I’ve only got to endure another 40 minutes or so. Then I can go home and wrap myself in a large blanket.

Tomorrow, I’m seriously bringing gloves.

I’ve seen those “what’s in your purse/wallet” posts quite a few times - and although they seem neat, they also sound a bit boring. Then Mac found a way to spice it up - How much is your purse (including contents) worth?

Here’s mine:

Purse: $20.00
Wallet: $20.00
Average Cash: $40.00
Medication: $20.00
Make-Up: $45.00
Transit Tickets: $18.00
Glasses: $150.00
Sunglasses: $150.00
Gum: $1.00
PDA (including memory stick): $350.00
Digital Camera: $450.00
Camera Case: $15.00
Cell Phone: $150.00
Granola Bar: $1.00

Grand Total: $1430. Holy Crap. I think I’ll be much more careful with where I leave my purse from now on.

What’s yours add up to?

Oy Vey.

I was totally dooced this morning.

Hold your horses - not that kind of dooced.

This kind of dooced.

And everything hurts.

Thank God it’s Friday.

WARNING: GRATUITOUS SEX POST well, not really, but you’ve been warned. Sortof.

So I’m at the grocery store tonight picking up some turkey (they were out when I went last night) and I wander past the pharmacy section, and figure I should pick up some personal lubricant for use with my personal “massagers.” Shut up. I’m trying to be PC with the whole thing.

Anyway, so I pick up a tube o’ lube and figure that, while I’m there, I may as well embrace my single-dom and get some condoms too. Not that I plan on jumping in the sack with anyone any time soon, but you know how the story goes… you delay and delay on the purchase, then when you are in a situation where you really need them, you have none. I did not want to be there at any point, so what the hell.

You need to understand, I am not shy about sex. And I have purchased my fair share of condoms. So I picked up a box of Trojans and tossed them and the lube into the basket with my turkey.

Then suddenly this strange sensation came over me (not that kind of sensation! quit being dirty and follow along!), I wondered what that said about me, having turkey cutlets and condoms and lube in my basket? So I headed for frozen foods and picked up some lean cuisines and tossed them on top. Now my basket contains single girl food, turkey cutlets, condoms and lube. So I head for the fruit. A few bananas, plums & nectarines later, and I figure I can’t really improve on the situation at all. So I check out and scamper off home.

When the hell did I become such a chicken (turkey?) about sex? I’ve been having it pretty often for the past 8-odd years, and have purchased my fair share of accoutrements that are much riskier than condoms. But for the longest time, I’ve always always shrouded myself in the security of being in a long term relationship. As if any of the checkout people ever actually knew that, or would know that I’m now single. Or that it even matters. But for some reason I’m thinking I give off some strange vibe. My essence just screams this girl is a shameless hussy!

Now I’m looking at this damn box of condoms, sitting on my bed, wondering what the hell I was thinking. It’s probably a good thing they don’t expire until 2009. It might just take me that long before I get over my complex. And eat turkey again.