If Doris Day taught me anything, it’s that babies belong in cages. And if I know anything about small children, this book makes a great first birthday gift (I bought this for my niece for hers).
I got one of those to help with the last time I busted my ankle. Insurance paid for it, then I sold it for a decent sum on Craigslist. FYI it doesn’t work well with stairs (one must do a rather undignified butt-slide while wrangling crutches, instead).
Stupid feet. I demand amputation and installation of wheels.
Yeah, with really low-dose meds, I haven’t had a gout attack in over a decade (he wrote, jinxing himself). But after spraining my other foot about eight years back, there will still be weird days (humidity? heat?) when I can feel where the sprain was. Nothing bad; just a little heavy-feeling reminder.
I barely care what people I know in real life think about me. A certainly don’t care about random internet people. Probably why I don’t facebook or Instagram.
You know how they say ‘watch your step’ when you exit somewhere that has a step down to the main footpath?
They mean it.
I am currently sporting a painfully sprained ankle. Swollen. Icky. Ouch.
(no photo; gross)
It is. But I do plan to stay with the feds (but not homeland security because fuck them) as it will allow me to retire some day so long as I don’t lose my mind and rage quit.
Anywhere? I admit that California is pretty excellent and probably even better if you have a shitload of money. Until then I’ll stay here. As far as anywhere in the world, if I could travel and stuff, it’d be nice to live near the rocky ocean like off of Nova Scotia or the Islands of of Maine or in Ireland. I’d love…
Wow, that’s a beautiful scene, and has made my humpday more pleasant. Not that it was horrible to begin with. I did have trouble waking up this morning and got to work pretty late (close to 10) but I’m already caught up on e-mail and I guess it didn’t matter.
That’s my favorite Vizzini scene.
It is a strong job market overall, but not in my field. Also, it is complicated. It matters where you are from. If you live in Dunwoody or Buckhead or Druid Hills or Marietta your resume is treated more seriously than it is where I grew up just south of I285. If you live in East Point or College Park or southern Decat…
I would live in cyberspace.
I used to have a fantasy about moving to Costa Rica and becoming the Crazy Dog Lady of Puerto Jimenez. I would buy a big house and all the local dogs could live there with me. I don’t want to do that now: too much inherent sadness in it. But it would be lovely to live in Costa Rica, where there is no winter (though…
While you're at it, bite those elves too. Hate those guys.
Yeah. It’s time. May take a year or so to find the right job so there will be a lot of exasperated bitching. But the active applying has begun. Don’t want to have to work with and dress like an adult, though, that will suck if i end up leaving OIT.
Ugh. Work. Although, my first day back wasn’t so bad. The person covering my desk got just enough that I wasn’t drowning in weeks worth of work, but had a difficult enough time getting through everything that it was pretty obvious just how much work I do efficiently.
Oasis? Photo of a wall? Wonder if I can turn this into a Britpop thread...
Live anywhere? I mean, if I had good job prospects it would have to be the Atlanta area because my parents could use my help.
Yesterday Rachel Maddow and other MSNBC hosts covered the Epoch Times. I process bundles of the paper every week at work and from glancing at the headlines I had just assumed it was a right wing publication. But it’s a lot more complicated than that.