soundbites

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note to self: always take meghan to the pub. this results in free beer from strange, middle-aged men (oh, if only i were blond).
note to self: while at the pub, do not sit at the edge of the stairs. when your drunk companion spills his beer on the table, you will fall backwards over the edge, spilling your beer over your head, in an attempt to avoid your companion’s spilled beer.
note to self: flagellate self heartily for watching the entire. two. hours. of billy ray cyrus’ new television show pilot.
note to self: deprive self of all good things for actually liking said show.
note to self: people are not observant.
note to self: it is impossible to make a harry potter book last more than 24 hours.
note to self: keep notepad & pen near bed. the best ideas annoyingly arrive just as sleep does.

tweaks

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i’ve added three little navigation features over at the right:
– the main index link (to stop dangerman’s fucking whining)
– the link to my “homepage” (which is completely unattached to this blog, so don’t look for a link to here from there)
– search has returned! (remember, it only searches entries from february 2001 on)

eek!

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so, yeah… i’m practically bald now. well, okay. not really. but i did go get my hair cut. i *almost* chickened out, but i held onto the sides of the waiting area chair and told myself over and over this is a good thing. this is a good thing. so, twenty minutes and $19 ($14 + $5 tip) later, i walked out with about nine inches less hair. nine inches! of course, i sped home, washed it out and styled it to my satisfaction. then i proceeded to flip it back and forth for an hour or so, revelling in the perky bounciness of the new flipped-up ends.
it’s going to be very amusing observing the reactions i’ll get from people at work. i’ve already had one “oh my god! turn around!” and two “you cut your hair!”s. considering everyone seemed to pay an inordinate amount of attention to what i did with my tresses, i’m sure it’ll only get worse before the novelty wears off. i’m betting that not one guy mentions anything, though. we all know how guys are.
i think my head hates me for hacking away it’s spawn. i woke up this morning with a blinding headache, the last half of which is still lingering uncomfortably, fighting against the two advil liquid-gels i quaffed before i left for work. that’s okay, i’m trying the new chicken mcgrill for lunch. a chocolate shake will fix everything.

mpeg madness

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sorry… i totally forgot it was thursday today. so the thursday morning mpeg has turned into the thursday evening mpeg. i hope you don’t mind.
“Lovers in a Dangerous Time” by Barenaked Ladies
this is a rare cover of the bruce cockburn track which appeared on a tribute album released in 1991. if they hadn’t covered this song, i probably wouldn’t have had the honour of seeing them in concert in a really amazing, intimate show on valentine’s day 1992, before they made their big break. i hope you enjoy it.

mmm, twizzlers

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i want licorice. black licorice. black twizzlers, to be exact.
by the way, i didn’t tell you this, but i’m two hours from walking into a salon and getting a minimum of six inches of hair removed from my person. i didn’t tell you this because if i were to have told you this then, through the sick workings of my mind, i would be less likely to actually go through with it just for the mere fact i spilled the beans. yes, i’m weird like that.

missively yours

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i’m writing a long-overdue letter to one of the most important people in my life. it’s taking all my words, today. i’m sorry, i don’t have any left for you.

dangly bits & diamonds are a girl’s best friends

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i shouldn’t be allowed to be this tired. i would have killed a homeless person for another three hours of sleep this morning. it was probably the weird dreams i had…
it’s official, i watch too much reality tv. my dreams last night consisted entirely of my involvement in a scavenger hunt-like challenge. at the whistle, we had to run up and down this five-floor building finding four items, one on each floor, and then return them to the first floor where we then had to collect keys from balloons floating around the grocery checkout setup. i forgot to go to the top floor (but, it’d preemptively gathered keys, so i was still in the race) so when i got there, i found this very posh, quiet, sophisticated diamond dealer. the item i had to get from this floor was a 3200 diamond (don’t ask me), paid for by will. everything would be returned after the competition, so price wasn’t an issue. i left with a pair of earrings and a ring which was a little too small. i later informed will i wasn’t going to return them, so he better pay off his credit card.
that’s all i remember, which is annoying because i’d really like to know if i won.
by the way, there better be a part two. i have a fascination with “dangly bits” and have been known to ask the oddest questions of the phallic species in order to learn more about their hardware. for me, there is no such thing as too much information when it relates to the male genitals. anyone want to offer themselves up for experimentation?

flying

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i heard a story on the news about a man who was hit by a car while crossing the street. it was reported that the man was thrown nearly a block by the impact. this got me thinking about what it must be like to be doing nothing more than walking along, minding your own business, and then find yourself suddenly flying through the air…
okay, i’ve been to the bank, bought a new pair of shoes for the wedding on saturday. mmf. red light. i should really stop at the grocery store and pick up some bread for lunches this weeks. green light. geez, i hate that little chirpy crossing signal. hey, someone’s driving really fast. oh, shit, they’re going to hit… hey, i’m flying. this feels neat. fuck, i dropped my bag. i hope someone doesn’t steal my wallet, i’d hate to have to replace all my i.d. hey, i’m still in the air. hitting ground is going to HURT. i wonder if i flap my arms would it soften my blow? maybe if i roll over like a cat and try to land on my hands and feet. no, that’d break my arms. i should try to land on my ass, that’s big enough to cushion the blow. i’m still in the fucking air. maybe i’ll never land. oh. here it comes. shit! don’t tense up. don’t tense up. don’t tense up. OW!! that fucking HURT! *fade to black*

art attack

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i don’t know what it is about it, but the split-second i saw the photo of this painting i wanted it. i should really email the photographer and enquire if she knows the identity of the artist. at the very least a full frontal photograph of it would satisfy me (enough for a desktop image). [thanks podular.net]
p.s. look at the top-left corner of the photo. the cardboard box on the wall. it says “logan & …”!! it’s a sign. they knew i’d love it; so much so they put my name beside it.

snip-snip

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i have a lot of respect for men who decide to have vasectomies. men who have decided, themselves, on their own, without badgering or threat of bobbittization from a significant other. men who know themselves well enough and have the balls (pun intended) to say “i’ve had enough kids and i’m going to take it upon myself to do the responsible thing and ensure i don’t create an unwanted life” or “i do not want children now or in the future…”
men’s perception of contraception has changed drastically (most guys i know wouldn’t think twice about putting a on a condom), but when it comes to sterilization they’re still cavemen at heart. even with a houseful of children and no desire for more, they’d rather send their wives or girlfriends under the knife or to the pharmacy every month to keep from procreating. they must be able to spread their seed, whether they want to or not.
i understand the whole “don’t think i’m letting you near mr. big with that scalpel” reaction, but the truth of the matter is a vasectomy is a minor procedure when compared to a tubal ligation for women. it’s a filling as opposed to a root canal. hell, there is probably the same piddling amount of anesthetic involved for both.
so, to the handful of men i know who have taken this brave step, i salute you. to the rest of ’em, what are you waiting for? *cutting gesture with fingers* snip-snip!

my daddy

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today is my father’s last day on the job.
it’s funny, when he first started this contract last fall, i was a little unsure of what it was going to be like having him around all day, every day, especially considering his history with the company. i was a little nervous about how normal i would be able to act with him here. he’s been counting down the days until his contract ended and as he got more excited about not having to make a lunch or wear his steel-toed shoes, i got more and more upset at the thought of my not seeing him every day. his not coming up behind me while i work and putting his hands on my shoulders saying “hi, kid” and my answering “hey, papa!”
i bought him a card last night. on the front is a goofy little kid in his underoos and cape, standing with his hands on his hips, the caption reading “you’re my hero!”. inside i wrote:
For all that I will miss having you around on a daily basis, just a page away —
I don’t know of anyone who has worked longer or harder, who deserves to stop making lunches and enjoy their leisure time, more than you —
Having you here has meant more to me than you can ever know.
i’m really going to miss his being here.

the rules

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heather’s rules for departmental phone answering:

  1. i will answer all of the boss’s phone calls when he is away from his desk, thus assuring my position in the department’s heirarchy.
  2. if you attempt to answer any of the boss’s calls when i am in the room, i will glare at you until you want to cry and call you names under my breath.
  3. i will answer the two next closest phones when they are unattended.
  4. i reserve the right to refuse to answer the next two closest phones if the owners of those phones have pissed me off in the past forty-eight hours (this virtually guarantees i will not ever answer said phones).
  5. i will not answer any of the above phones if the owners are physically within the confines of the department, even if it means they must sprint from one end of the room to the other to answer their own phone.
  6. if there is no one else available, i will answer the remaining three phones in the department when they are unattended.
  7. i reserve the right to refuse to answer a phone if the owner never, ever, ever answers any phone but their own (this decreases total phones to be answered by one).

monkeyfuck!

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i keep thinking it’s friday today. then i remember it’s only thursday and i get sad. i sure feels like a friday, though.

the desk

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as previously promised (i think i promised. if i didn’t, i fully intended to), here is a picture of my new desk. don’t mind the grey blobs. one is me, the other are my boss and someone in his office. i look gross today and didn’t want to inflict that on anyone.
things to note about my corner: the new, hated window into my boss’s office, the glare from the window i sit beside, the bigass drawers, & all that lovely desk space. you can almost see my toy collection on the window sill, too.
i love my desk. it almost makes coming to work worth it.

amen

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i redeemed myself today. not only was i up out of bed and in the shower by 5:30, i’ve done something half-way decent with my hair and gave the-cute-little-philipino-lady-from-downstairs a ride to church this morning.
she was just at the front door as i was coming out of my suite. i immediately said “i can give you a ride this morning!” her name is hovita. she’s staying wth her daughter downstairs. she just spent a week in winnipeg between coming here and being home in the phillipines (where she offered to let me stay if i’m ever there — “i have my own place!”). she’ll be going to croatia soon on a pilgrimage. i have mentioned before that she goes to church every day at 7am, right?
i hadn’t realized how guilty i’d felt for not being able to give her a ride yesterday, but doing so today made me feel a lot better. phew. i’m not going to hell now!