Monday? Boo!

I wasn't really in the mood to work today. I did a quick look at the calendar and it looked like it was okay for me to not really feel like working. Last week, when I was the last one in the office at like 5:00, but couldn't leave because I don't pay for parking (and don't carry cash, so couldn't pay if I wanted to), I took a little nap in my office until I could leave at 6:00. Man, I am so going to miss my job. Not that I don't work hard. I do work hard. Even some weekends and the occasional late night. But it's nice to know I only have to get my work done, with no clock. I used to be billable. My desk was always covered in sticky notes with client codes and time spent on stuff (inevitably, I would go to do my time like a week later and couldn't figure out what my sticky notes said). That sucked. Not so much looking forward to doing it again. At least I'll be making more than $400 a week this time around.

I flew to Austin for a whirlwind of activity this weekend. My calves are always sore after I fly. For a while I totally thought I had deep vein thrombosis (thanks, mom, for always reminding me to get up and walk around on the plane to avoid sudden death). I couldn't figure out why my legs always hurt. Then I realized, to my horror, than I was probably sore from walking through airports with a huge purse-bag, dragging my suitcase behind me. Walking makes me sore. I am that out of shape. Horrifying. So I bought some mini cupcakes at the grocery store to make me feel better about the fact that walking makes me sore. Yummy.

Shopping therapy

I broke down and went to get new shoes tonight. I opted for my standard issue black heels. No fun here. Move along. I can't wait until I can shop again. Although it helps that the mall shopping here sort of sucks, so it's not like there's too much temptation, at least when it comes to shoes. I also bought my first black belt in almost 10 years. Although I eat as much as I used to, I've managed to lose a little weight since I moved here, which means all of my pants are too big. Without a belt, I just feel like I look dumpy and sloppy, constantly hitching my pants up. Now I just need to get some ass implants to make my pants really fit.

I'm currently avoiding my book in favor of my latest issue of Vanity Fair. It's the green issue. Not that I don't love mother earth, but the green issue gets on my nerves just a little. I'm sick of hearing about carbon footprints and carbon credits. I'm not going to lie and say I know what I'm talking about, but the whole carbon credit thing seems like a scam to me. Like a way for rich people to have heated pools and not feel bad about it because they bought their carbon credits, people who apparently feel that they don't have to actually sacrifice for whatever it is they claim to fervently believe in (unless driving a Prius counts). Broke people like me have the best plan to reduce our carbon footprints: turn the heat way down (or off), even when it's cold, and just walk around wearing fuzzy socks and two pairs of flannel PJ pants (make sure that you don't create a little pocket around your nose when you pull the covers up; I got a little fuzzy-floaty one night when I did this). Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Al.

Breaking all the rules

I refuse to abide by the gazillion different rules for addressing envelopes. No nicknames. Why would I call Tom "Thomas"? He's not Thomas, he's Tom. Unmarried couples that live together can't have their names on the same line. Why not? Some of these people are practically married. Order of names. There's rules for that, too. Screw it. Hopefully, my friends won't notice that I don't care about this finer point of etiquette. And if they notice, hopefully they won't care. And if they care, they have been hiding this side of themselves from me. I bet they also secretly know all what all the little forks and spoons are for, too. I say boo to these weird rules.

And the envelopes will be addressed in my shitty handwriting. Because, yes, I will admit to being too budget-conscious to hire a calligrapher for envelopes that will be thrown away. I find it interesting that it's considered uncouth to use a printer and a nice font when addressing envelopes. It apparently communicates to your guests that they aren't important enough for you to take the time to address the envelopes yourself. But hiring someone to address them for you says that, although you didn't take the time to address the envelopes yourself, you paid someone to do so. Whaaa?? I think that some calligraphers' union came up with this rule of etiquette. I bet Miss Manners was on the take when this little gem came to be a rule.

Why?

It's April. And it's snowing. WTF?

Small victory in my stupid little war

I think I played a role in preventing a woman from choosing my wedding place to have her wedding. I feel good about this. It's the little victories. Sure, some other sucker will wind up going crazy dealing with this woman, but I'd like to think that I just helped ensure a more pleasant wedding-planning process for someone else. I better get karma points for this. Or at least the good karma better balance out whatever bad karma will flow from trash-talking this woman.

The weather got shitty last night. I was all excited about wearing the new black peep-toe pumps. I got to prance around in them for like a week, but I guess I'll have to put them away for a little while. But my standard black heels are making the click-clack sound that tells you that the heel is worn down to the nail. I think I'll keep click-clacking around for the time being. I can make it work until I can bust out the peep-toes again.

Is it just me, or is Lou Dobbs an ass? He seems to complain and complain about government and yet appears to advocate for more government. That's like saying more crack will help me kick my addiction to crack.