Thursday, April 17, 2014

Still doing taxes in my sleep. They say that will go away. Eventually. 

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

There's Always That Guy

2pm - new client walks in the door.

Day's not over yet.


Every Date This Week Is a Palindrome

See? The day has barely started and already I'm goofing off!

Getting back to normal . . .

Today's Stress Meter

On the way into the office today I was asked to pick up the following:

  1. Triple grande soy latte
  2. Grande vanilla latte
  3. A bag of potato chips
  4. Red bull and vodka
I'll let you decide what kind of day it's going to be.


Well, almost done. Still have to get through today. But we will. I'm pretty confident of that now. Besides, we're out of chocolate chip cookies over here so we have to be done.

I've got some details to attend to today - not the least of which is my own return - but we got through most of the rough stuff yesterday.

Thanks for your support. We should be returning to your regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

Or sooner, if something funny happens.

Nobody ever wishes anyone a Happy Tax Day. Except me. I'm pretty happy about it.


Sunday, April 13, 2014

You're Killing Me!

Do not go boating in this beautiful weather, text me about boating in this beautiful weather, or plaster pictures of you boating in this beautiful weather all over Facebook. That's just seriously cruel. It's bad enough that it's beautiful outside. I have to close the blinds at work so I can't see it or else I'd be tempted to go out there.

I'm only allowed to go outside exactly two times per day. Once at sunrise on the way to work and once at sunset on my way home. Yesterday, however, I managed to escape for a short while. I went to Grinitch (I had to do an errand there and fetch some Grinitch spinach) and I was sorely tempted not to come back. Ever.

With my luck it will be raining on the 16th and I'll be on the boat wishing I was at the office. Oh, the unfairness of it all!

Dude, invite me when I'm not working, okay?

Saturday, April 12, 2014

The pants algorithm resulted in pale green pants today. You could make an argument today of whether or not there's anyone inside them. But it probably means it's time to do laundry.

Friday, April 11, 2014


I was feeling badass ninja today. I got dressed in my tight, black skinny jeans, a black top, and black patent leather peep toe platform pumps that showed off my fire-engine red shellacked toenails. I topped it with a sleek black jacket and black cap, jumped into my black Porche Carrera convertible and roared off to work, radio turned up loud and my stick-straight, long, light brown hair streaming behind me.

Then I did some ninja shit, got all the bad guys, went home and had a Grey Goose martini (shaken) with two olives in an ice cold glass while sitting on the deck of my yacht.

Well, almost.

I only have about four pair of pants that I really like but I go through a daily ritual of looking at all my pants, from left to right as they hang in the closet, before selecting the pair I really want. Today I picked my black skinny jeans - using my secret mathematical algorithm for selecting pants - and a top long enough to cover the fly that won't lie flat when I sit down. The armbands I wear to relieve the pain of tennis elbow poked out beneath the three-quarter length sleeves.

I haven't had a pedicure in six months so sandals were definitely out of the question - not to mention it was probably still a little early in the year for that. I figured if I wore the peep toe shoes I would only have to paint the toes that peeped.

I applied a single layer of red polish to my big toes and their nearest neighbors and then used my blow dryer alternately between my hair and feet. Having burned my forehead the day before, I decided not to curl my hair and running late for work I applied leftover makeup. This technique is based on an assumption that there is probably still makeup in my makeup brushes from the day before - which reminds me I should probably clean my makeup brushes.

With my toes still wet I put on pink rubber flip flops, a Jack Daniels "Field Tester" ball cap to cover my grey roots and my company-logoed jacket , got into my 11 year old convertible and dropped the top before I noticed a big gob of bird shit on the window. Damn! I flip-flopped back into the garage and got a Windex wipe, cleaned up the gob and started again.

I tied up my hair into a loose ponytail, accidentally including the string that holds my bifocals, tuned in NPR, and drove to work in heavy traffic, focusing the floor vents onto my feet to complete the drying process.

When I got to work, I shoved my feet into my pumps and looked at my pale and veiny feet and wondered what the hell I was thinking. Who cares if only four toe nails are painted? - I thought and put my flip flops back on.

I did tax returns for about ten hours, drove home in the rain, and had a glass of wine before I reheated leftovers and went to bed. Some ninja.

I wonder what Batman does on Friday nights.


Is it Friday yet?

Not yet.

Is it Friday?

Not yet.

What day is today? Friday?

Not yet.

When will it be Friday?

Four more days.