Is there an online slang chat abbreviation for "What The Hell?" If not there needs to be.
I'm tired. So tired. I can't believe my own first mate attacked me. No wait, sorry, that's Ren & Stimpy.
I'm not even sure where to begin this post. I've been so out of it here of late that I've not even had time to read other folk's blogs, the ones I read regularly, much less comment on them. I haven't posted here, for that matter, my own little slice of narcissistic mental masturbation, and it's pretty darn sad when I don't even have the energy to choke the pope online.
Heh. Yeah, it's still me.
So much has happened. It feels like a full moon has been hanging in the sky for the entire past week. I've had my highs (hearing the coyotes howl and bark one frosty cold morning) and I've had my lows (finding out that my director not only printed out a confidential email from me to him but he also put it in the wall pocket on his door for everyone to see) and I've slept badly because of work stress, and I've slept like the dead because I simply don't have the energy for anything else.
I found out something fun, though. My local pop station is now streaming, which means that if you really care (which I doubt many of you do, honestly) you can tune in online at 93QID and if you happen to be listening to the 80's Flashback Friday around 8:20 am CST or so you can hear me phone in and harass the DJs, and make some obscure request. Like this morning, when I had to dog the two younger disc spinners, CJ and Erin because neither of them had any idea who Joe Jackson is, nor why he was stepping out.
I weep for the next generation. As my syster said in an email this morning, they all need a good flounding.*
So I responded with "When Hell is full, the dead shall walk..." no wait, that's not what I said, that's Night Of The Living Dead.
Belle's first show is coming up at the end of the month, and I'm probably more excited than anyone in this house about it. I know I'm letting my hopes get desperately inflated, but I so want to see both her and the Mrs. do well in the ring. And, it'd be nice to add "Champion show dog owner" to my already twisted and disturbed resume', right under "Looking forward to an old age sitting on my front porch in my rocking chair shouting at the neighbor's kids to get off my lawn" and "Successful Dungeon Master and campaign builder."
Ye gods it's been a long week.
Oh, if you're reading this and of any sort of religious or spiritual bent, sent prayers, mantras, good thoughts etc. to Nancy Dancehall, who is going to have surgery on her mommy bits this coming Monday, and who is a little concerned about the whole anesthesia thing. For the whole grisly story, scroll down to the post entitled "Two Strands Of Black Pearls" because I can't get the link to work right. Sorry. Hang in there, NancyDancy, you've got friends all over these here interwebs. "Mommy Bits Monday." Now there's an idea that someone needs to grab and run with.
This weekend promises a lot of sleep and very little else. I can't freaking WAIT.
I was thinking about those coyotes the other morning, and how they're so like us. From the day we arrive on the planet and, blinking, step into the sun...wait, sorry no, that's The Lion King.
Oh, and happy 20th anniversary to NPR's Performance Today.
*Flounding: (noun, adjective, –verb (used with object)) to strike violently, forcefully and repeatedly about the head and shoulders with a flounder