28 Feb

I wish my basement wasn’t colder than Sitka, Alaska in the middle of a cold, hard January. I complain about this almost daily, but it’s getting to the point where I get angry that I’m so cold. I’m afraid to even drop trou to pee because removing just that small about of clothing from my body puts me into a hypothermic shock. It’s not worth it anymore. Someone light fire to the carpet. I’m running out of time.

I’ve developed a very volatile relationship with my space heater. Either I’m hugging it close to my body to let the waves of heat penetrate my core and enjoying every minute of it, or I’m hastily shoving it away from me, bursting into a hot sweat and unzipping my hoodie to gasp for fresh air. I’m in a difficult situation, girls and boys.

I smell like dog shampoo.

And it’s a good thing. Jess took good ol’ Bentley (her black lab/black and tan coon hound mix) to PetSmart (PetsMart? I never know which it is…are they telling me it is “smart” for your “pet” to go there? Or are they saying it is a “mart” for “pets?” Something to ponder) yesterday and got him cleaned, groomed, and clipped. He’s quite the handsome man. I think they use Biolage on their dogs over there. He smells good enough to lick. Might explain why he is licking himself like a cat, who knows. It’s nice when he’s clean. It’s also nice when my Snuggie is clean, which is no longer the case now that Bentley has claimed it as a) a place to nap, and b) a place to chew his enormous bone and slobber all over it like a baby on a spit-up towel. Oh well.

Today is Day 1 of a two week push period at work where I must sell $10,000 worth of knives in two weeks to win a four day trip to Cabo San Lucas, all inclusive, completely free. Once you see my skin tone, you’ll understand why it’s so important that I be there. It’s safe to say that my tan is fading into a nice shade of “eggshell.” I’ve been slacking in the tanning department. The case is actually that I no longer live within walking distance of my tanning salon, so now it takes at least 12 minutes to drive there, and I am not necessarily excited about doing that.

So I don’t.

When are they going to invent teleportation? This is a perfect example of an emergency situation where teleportation could really come in handy. Someone call the guy who invented the flat iron…..they had the right idea.

Again, Facebook has the IQ of an earth worm. Its latest suggestion?

….The New Year’s Eve tag I get, since it WAS New Year’s Eve. But 4th Annual Ski Trip? When have I tagged anything as an “annual ski trip” to begin with? Let alone the 4th one. Who is the brains behind this operation?

I hate drifting over onto the rumble strips on the interstate. For starters, the noise is aggressive and startling (the point), but once you hit them with your right tires, you can’t just jump right off of them. You don’t want to jerk your steering wheel to the left and over-correct, sailing into traffic in the next lane over. You have to ride it for what feels like forever (that’s what she said) until you can ease yourself back into the lane. The point is, I shouldn’t text and drive.

I wish Facebook chat didn’t suck more than Heidi Montag’s latest music video. What is the deal? I remember AOL Instant Messenger being more reliable than this, and that was back when I had dial-up. (EEE-eeeeEEEEeeeEEEE-REEEEEEHHHHH, neeeehhhhh). That’s the sound of….dial-up internet.

The show goes on.

Time to go.

“I need to get my sexuality figured out.”


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