Laughing All The Way

Friday, February 29, 2008

Check it

I think Paris Hilton is a lesbian.

I’ve been thinking this for awhile and for those of you who know me and, well for those of you who don’t, I have a spot on gaydar. For the past year whenever I see pictures of her out and mostly off-guard, my gaydar is pinging. And then the more I consider things, the pinging turns into a full fledged air horn.

I mean that sex video with her dead eyes as she’s on all fours. Dude, that is someone who is totally removed from the experience. And sure, maybe she was just stupidly high, but there’s more. The pictures of her kissing her various female friends while seemingly innocuous, after all, all the kids are doing it, also remind me of a friend I had in high school. This friend would like to make out with girls and laugh it off as something she did to mess with the guys. This friend now has a myspace page talking about her great lesbian life.

I just bet that in forty years, thirty-nine years after she dies some tragic Hollywood death (what?) some tell all book will come out and people will be all: “Paris, yeah, she was a big ol’ lezzer. She liked the ladies, but hey, it was hard for her to be open and all. So she hid the truth and drank herself to death.”

Thursday, February 28, 2008

The one where I get all religious

So I now understand why people view buying a car as a painful task that one does only when needed. I get why my mom drove her cars into the ground rather than buying a new car every five years. Seriously, car salesmen are a breed unto themselves.

On that note, my new car should be here by Friday. I am so ready for this whole thing to be over, and this thing, as far as I can understand it, has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the car dealership in Reno that was pissed off with the car dealership in Oakland so Reno was refusing to trade cars with Oakland in order for me to get the car that I wanted.

Note to self: issue a fatwah on Reno

Beyond that, well Bruce is much better. He is his normal smiling, bouncy self. I’ve made him schedule an appointment with a doctor at my clinic because it’s been at least 2 years since he saw anyone for something that was not acute. The doctor of my choice has agreed to see Bruce and will in fact expedite the appointment so Bruce will only 3 weeks instead of 6. Yes, my friends, that’s right, I have connections. Too bad my connections don’t also supply Valium. Okay, my connections are kind of lame, whatever.

On the diet front, even though Bruce had a case of uncontrollable spasms, we’ve stuck with the diet and I am a full size smaller. That is the good. The bad is that I now have to go shopping for clothes that fit. I am not at a place where I want to stop loosing weight so I don’t want to invest too much in new clothes but my shirts are way too big and my pants are like clown pants. I think everyone knows what this means: shopping spree at Target! I suspect that $150 will get me two pairs of pants, three button-down shirts and a sweater. This is the greatness of Target. The only danger is if I wander into the health and beauty section. Then I will leave with $300 worth of hair care products and no new clothes.

And now there is news about work. I’ve finally corralled people into admitting that they too drink booze. I’ve organized a night out with a group of women. The email reads as follows: “For those new to this email chain, your names were sent to me by those who care about your liver’s ability to correctly process alcohol. We are running a test of such measure on Thursday March 6 at 4:59 PM at XXXXXX on XXXXXX Street.” This should be the most fun I’ve had in a minute. Also, I intuit that this night will show who can hang and who will go home early. Yay pitchers of Margaritas.

The other news work is that I saved myself by not being totally snarky for once. I sent an email to a doctor about an issue with a report and by proxy the data from the report. Luckily in the email I mentioned twice that the person who wrote the report has already verified the report in several ways and when we run it in a controlled environment the data is correct. The doctor decided that the best way to handle the issue was to send the person who wrote the report an email chain that originated with my email. I swear, if it weren’t for the blessed baby Jesus I would have written something super snarky and the tech who wrote the report in the first place would spend the rest of her time here figuring out how to cut me. Into tiny piece. And then feed me to Piranhas. No really.

I feel like there was something about the whole set up the last time I found this error that made me think that I would get burned if I weren’t careful. The other part of this is that a bunch of people who matter were cc’ed about this problem and at least all I look like is the inquisitive analyst to a bunch of people who matter. Also, if that tech had just listened to me ages ago when I pointed out the error in the data, instead of talking to me like I am some dumb girl who can’t understand SQL, well then maybe all of this could have been avoided. So you can see why I might have been tempted to write something snarky.

And to round out the big three…um Mazel Tov.

That’s all

Monday, February 25, 2008

Popeye The Sailor Man

I am home from work today, the third time in several weeks. The first two days were because I was sick. I had this creeping yucky that led to me eating 234087234 sugar free Popsicles. Today is all about Bruce.

At about 4:30 AM I was driving Bruce to the hospital because he had uncontrollable full body muscle spasms for an hour last night. I was only awake for about 15 minutes of it before I made him get in the car and it was only once we got there and Bruce started telling his story that I learned he had been having the spasms for about an hour.

Of course I kind of feel bad because when I woke up to Bruce shivering in bed and gasping for air my words of wisdom were: “relax, breath slowly and go back to bed.” Seriously, I took in his obvious distress and told him to go back to bed. It took a few minutes to realize that something was rotten in the state of Denmark. And when I finally hauled out of bed and told Bruce we were going to the Emergency Room, his lack of a fight made me really scared. Bruce is you basic male stoic so when he was so willing to go to the hospital I knew he was in trouble.

Of course by the time we get there, he can breath and the spasms were done. The diagnosis is something along the lines of an electrolyte imbalance. I think that means that our diet has taken certain vitamins out of our diet and Bruce’s natural aversion to certain vegetables meant that he was really lacking in things like Potassium. Oops. So while Bruce takes it easy at home, I am off to the store for some bananas and spinach.

On this side of things we can say that we are fine and everyone is okay, but in the moment, I think we were both scared. So scared in fact that when we got home we had a conversation about estate planning and writing up our wills. Nothing like a health scare to get us all kinds of serious. 

Friday, February 22, 2008

The Thrill Is Gone

Can someone tell me why exactly can I not have my cake and eat it too? As far as I am concerned, if that motherfucking cake is mine I’ll eat it if I want to. Who would come up with such a stupid statement? It must a been a really thin girl who was angry at her fat friends or something. Angry thin girls, I say boo to you, boo I say.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

This won’t hurt a bit

See, I was serious this time. I really will post.

The exciting news du jour is that this weekend is the company party for my employer. Health care has this thing called “Flu season” during which we try to avoid congregating in large crowds in warm rooms. The company party is therefore planning for the time when people stop contracting the strain of flu that leaves you dehydrated and covered in your own vomit. No really, it was that bad.

The dress code is semi-formal to formal, and I have it on good authority that there will be ball gowns and tuxedos on some of the attendees. I myself was going to wear the black dress that I wore to Carrie Un-Patched’s wedding and to Bruce’s holiday party, but then I was doing laundry and found a gold dress I had forgotten that I bought over the winter.

And that brings me to the crux of this post, who forgets that they have a gold dress? No really, how is it that I was going on with my business and never knowing that I have a perfect kicky gold dress that is entirely appropriate for a semi-formal celebration. Now the only problem I have is deciding which dress to wear.

If I wear the black dress it will be with fishnets and peeptoe/slingbacks. If I wear the gold it will be with black tights and black pointy toes. The fishnets are fun and young and the black tights are slimming.

OMG! I’ve just come up with the best idea, COSTUME CHANGE! Sometimes I totally amaze myself. How amazing would it be if I show up in one dress and leave in another. It will be just like college all over again. Those were the days.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Oooooh yeah, my blog…erm

So I made a new friend at work, but she’s not the reason why I haven’t blogged recently.

Also I put in an offer on a car that was accepted and as of Friday I will be the newest owner of this here car.

Also I have spent quality time reintroducing myself to all the storage places in my apartment, suffice it to say underneath my bathroom sink is a world of lovely organization and my shoes are now stored in clear shoe boxes from the container store and are arranged on two of these shelves in order of work vs. not work (aka whore) and then by color.

Also I decided that I really wanted to get to know all the new contestants on American Idol.

Also there are billion and one things to do that do not include typing, and I know that one of these days people are going to call me the girl who cried blog, but I SWEAR this time it will be different. This time I mean it: I WILL GET BETTER ABOUT POSTING.

And now, I am going to bed.

What, you didn’t think I meant NOW did you?

Suckas