and the fortune reads : If your desires are not extravagant, they will be granted.
All of the sudden, life seems a little less worth living.
Posted by Taylor on July 26, 2005 @ 3:03 pmIt honestly feels like I got punched. Also, my lid is puffy and droopy. I really couldn't think of what it could have been, so I asked around at work. The general consensus among the women in the office is that it's either a stye or the onset of conjunctivitis. It was suggested that I apply hot compresses or even a hot chamomile tea bag. Based on the size of my eyelid and the amount of pain I feel if I press on it, though, I'm inclined to think a gopher has climbed up into my eyeball. So, basically, I'm not sure if I need hot compresses or an exterminator.
I've moved roughly 216 times in my life. Approaching my 217th-ish move, I've decided that I will not wait until the very last second to get myself ready to go. In light of this decision, I spent some time in the closet this weekend. It's been such a long time since I've spent any serious amount of time in the closet (ahem), so there was a lot of work to do! J and I decided that if we each managed to sort through our clothes and get rid of the stuff we're not going to wear anymore then there might be more than an iceberg’s chance in Hell of all of our clothes fitting in one city house.
I'll tell you one thing, though. If I have to throw away my extra lowrise bootcut jeans with the silver-studded leg seams and back pockets then he has to throw away at least a few of his ten million ripped-up, stained t-shirts.
After culling the less-needed items from wardrobe, I found myself with 2 huge trash bags filled with hardly-worn, overpriced clothing.
In related news, there should soon be an onslaught of smashingly dressed homeless people in the north shore area. Don't be alarmed, but consider yourself warned: That guy with the beard that walks around downtown will still beat you up if you look at him funny, despite his new army green 5-pocket corduroy cargos.
I am not eating cake right now, as evinced by my less-than-sunny disposition. Today is the annoying girl from the Classified department's last day and there's cake to be had. The cake is scheduled to be cut somewhere between 3:30 and 4. Now, I leave at 4. If I don't get a piece of cake before I leave I'm going to be pissed. I wonder if it would be rude to cut a piece for myself before the annoying girl even gets to see it.
In unrelated news, I don't know why I even watch Shark Week on the Discovery Channel. I was having panic attacks in my bed because I was having flashbacks to the one time I was in the ocean. I was carried and thrown in, as I would never have entered of my own accord. It was a brush with death, in retrospect.
Also, I learned that white sharks frequent the waters in the San Francisco area. This, of course, prompted a conversation in which I urged J to stay out of the water. I told him that I just don't have the time to be worrying about him getting eaten by sharks. Furthermore, I told him that bull sharks have been known to venture into fresh water and that maybe even the shower was a bad idea.
Then he promised me that he would not shower until I get there, to which I responded that he had my permission to shower, but that he must be extra careful until I can get there and make sure that the shower is bull shark-free.
See, he really needs me around. For the important things.
And for the record? I miss him so much right now it hurts.
Posted by Taylor on July 25, 2005 @ 3:47 pmI used to go out after the rain had passed and comb the fence in my back yard. I was looking for snails. They were small snails that couldn't have been any bigger than a popcorn kernel. I would find as many snails as I could, pluck them off of the fence, and put them into a little plastic bucket. I would then grab a hammer from Mother's collection and bring it to the bucket. Those poor snails probably never saw it coming. They probably didn't expect me to take that hammer and smash them all up in that little plastic bucket.
For the record, I absolutely believe in karmic payback.
Posted by Taylor on July 20, 2005 @ 1:46 pmShe'd made too many mistakes. She was truly a liability. Had it not been for the vigilance of others within our own company and the companies involved in publishing our newspaper, there could have been numerous occasions where she would have been the singular reason that we did not publish a paper on a particular day. In the newspaper business, it's generally a good idea to actually publish the newspaper.
Despite all of the complaining I did, I suppose I can say now that she's really not an awful person. She wasn't so bad. With a little more time she could even have been a real asset to the company. She was not an unintelligent woman and some of what we do here is actually quite abstruse. In saying this, I think I might actually miss her!
...
I'm a wicked good liar, huh?
Margie Girl was the bane of my existence. She has the mental acuity of a rubber spatula. A monkey could do this job, people (in fact, I think one does - she sits behind me)! Also, she dropped fetid bombs in the lady's room. Good bye Margie Girl! Goodbye to you, your rubber spatula brain, and your fetid bombs!
Posted by Taylor on July 19, 2005 @ 3:32 pm