All of this kvetching sort of belies our pretty amazing lives. A week or so ago we decided to make a concerted effort to stop and realize how bad things really aren't. I proposed that, within each daily email, we had to include at least one positive thing that's going on in our lives. Well, now that Con has a new job, it seems as if we won't be having daily email correspondence any time soon. This is putting a real damper on my Drive Towards Happiness. In lieu of the Connie emails, I think I'm going to have to put some of my happy shit here.
First of all, I just counted (I know, it's shocking. I can count. Maybe next I'll learn how to tell time!) and I only have 29 days of work left, assuming I work every other Saturday. Twenty-nine is not so bad, people. At least that's what I chanted this morning when I had my letter opener pressed to my jugular.
Second of all, my turkey and muenster is on wheat today, and not rye like yesterday. I'm partial to wheat, so that's a good thing.
Third of all, I'm down 2 pounds from where I was 2 weeks ago (138.5). This is good news, obv, because I'm losing weight. It's kind of bad news because I was actually down 4 pounds a week ago. I suppose one can only expect to pack on at least a couple of pounds when you spend an entire Saturday eating and drinking. I did manage to shut myself off (albeit a tad late) after exclaiming, crestfallen, from the backseat of Connie's car, that I had "eaten all of the dip." (I suppose the fact that I couldn't even take a short car ride without toting along the chips and dip says a lot, either about my inability to exercise moderation or the fact that I'd had a few too many peach bellinis, strawberry daiquiris, and/or some creative beverage that we aptly nicknamed Cement (pronounced SEE-ment, preferably with a southern accent).
Lastly, my hair has looked superb the last two days. Really fantastic. It's a shame that such perfect hair should be wasted on the people here in this office, but if I were to put a positive spin on it then I could say that I'm actually doing them a service by raising the quality of aesthetics their lives.
I feel better now, don't you?
It was one of those moments where Margie Gal asked one of the four million questions that she asks five bajillion times a week. These moments are painful. These moments are like having a root canal without novocaine. These moments are like running through a briar patch, then falling into a pool of nail polish remover. These moments are like falling nine stories from you Florida summer apartment's balcony and not landing safely on an awning.
These moments are so painful that, in an attempt to somehow balance the pain of listening to her ask her question, I started punching myself in the head and yelled "I'm punching myself in the head!"
Now my head just hurts.
Posted by Taylor on July 06, 2005 @ 2:56 pm(and I have been away. Not really "away", but away. Also, did I just imply that I was at some sort of rehab, because I wasn't at any sort of rehab, unless you consider surplus alone time and enough Double Stuf Oreos to make Kirstie Alley say "No thank you, I've had my share." some sort of rehab.) but I just sat here and listened to Mouth for 12 minutes. I suppose "listen" isn't the correct verb, because I didn't actually catch any of what she said. I did, however, make note of her cotton/spandex shirt that could only be described as light mauve, with its third and seventh buttons no where to be found. Classy. And, no, it does not match that hot pink trench.
Some 362-year-old woman was just in the office to pay her bill. I was half-tempted to direct her to the classified department so that she could place an ad for her missing teeth, but I bit my tongue.
I bite my tongue around here a lot. It's really a wonder that it's still attached.
She chased and killed a little baby bird in my backyard yesterday. It was really very terrible and, admittedly, still a little hard to talk about. Let it be known, though, that the little thingy received a proper burial behind the garage. I dug the hole and Mother placed the deceased into it (wrapped in newspaper, natch. We don't touch dead things). The mound was marked with a stone. There wasn't a dry eye between us.
Also, before I'm lambasted about it, I know that she's just a dog and I know that some dogs do that kind of thing. My dogs, however, should not be doing that kind of thing. I'll get over it. I just need some time.
Connie is home for the weekend and you can absolutely color me excited. I haven't seen her properly in months. I managed to see her for all of 15 seconds last March when I was in the city but that's just not enough Connie for me! We're meeting for dinner tonight and having The 5th or 6th Annual Connie & Taylor Fourth of July Celebration Cookout tomorrow.
Also, I'd like to think that we'll be celebrating more than all that independence crap. I'd like to think that we'll also be drinking to Connie's recent graduation from NYU as well as her new job that starts on Tuesday. My Connie doesn't just have crabs, she's also all grown up!
For the record, my Connie does not have crabs.
At least I don't think she does.
Happy long weekend all!