And now, by special request, I bring you the pest...I mean adored pet Eddy

Here Eddy sits, surrounded by toys. Does he play with them? Of course not.



Ah, look. There is sour cream. He must have some. Sour cream is his weakness.



But wait! There's pizza? Pizza? Eddy loves pizza. Or at least pizza boxes.



First he must chew on the box. Because that will open the box magically.



Pawing at the box in an attempt to bury it will also help.



What should he do now? Climb on top of the box, of course.



And then there is the pushing. Push the box, Eddy. It will open for you then.



He will not stop until the box is off the table completely.

And now, it is back to his corner. The box is off of the table, apparently that is all he wanted. Oh and the sour cream. The little pig ate a ton of it.



There are more pictures of him, lurking somewhere on my computer. It is just a matter of moving them to Keem's computer.

Sarah has two kittens and she emailed me awhile ago asking how Keem and I kept Eddy off the counters. My response, after I laughed myself silly, was this - "Yeah. Eddy's a free range cat. He goes where he wants, drinks from our glasses, eats off of our plates and pretty much runs the household." Seriously. The cat has a specific eating schedule. Not only does he have his dry food but he must have his wet food when we leave in the morning. And when we come home. And there are the Pounce treats and the Temptation treats that must be doled on an as needed basis.

And here is a past post of him, getting into trouble when he helped us decorate the Christmas tree.

I am easily amused

Hello! I am feeling much better but have come to the conclusion that Keem can never go out of town again. If she wasn't returning today, I would be worried that I might starve to death. How is it possible to own as much Hamburger Helper as we do and not have any hamburger? Where are the cans of soup? Shouldn't there be soup? Good Lord, how much Ramen noodles did I think I would need (although that was lunch yesterday so good call there)? I actually ended up spending yesterday at home so I am not sure if the latest fiasco was due to poor nutrition choices or the stomach flu. Doesn't really matter, actually, what I do know is that throwing up is not fun. Never really been a fan of it.

Last night, doing my laundry at the very last moment (of course), I found the paper and turned to the most important part of any newspaper, the comic strips (when I was younger, my Grandmother and I referred to them as the "funnies" and she used to save them for me. I'd come over and spend a good hour reading weeks and weeks worth of comic strips. God, I miss her (for many other reasons, besides comic strips. There was also the fact that she and I agreed that Bob Barker was the sexiest man on television (this was a long time ago))).


Anyway, I found this (also available here). I think that "No one ever suspects the socks" is going to be my new catch phrase. My cubicle wall is filled with carefully cut out comic strips that have been "laminated" (yeah, pretty much I put tape over them to keep them somewhat secure. I want a laminator but can't see the company ordering one for me so I can keep my comic strips in pristine condition) and I may be running out of room. What with the frogs and the "diversity is important, dammit!" bumper stickers/buttons/post cards and the magnets/picture frames, etc., I'm starting to be a bit overwhelmed by all of this stuff. But it is cool and I like it and one of these days I'll have to get permission to take pictures of it all so you can see the coolness that is my desk.

Keem called. She will be back tonight. Thank God. I think Eddy would self-destruct if he had to go another day without her. And honestly, so would I. At least we all know she'll be an excellent mother.

Oh, and I forgot that stupid changes to stupid Blogger means that I ended up with the stupid Blogger comments again. Grr. I'll have to figure out haloscan again.

Shelly said...
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11:20 AM
Lioness said...
Ooooh, the new temnplate kicks absolute ass, I love it! It suits you, dahling. If you're eating ramen noodles, it's no wonder you're vomiting, I would as well. You know what you need to do, MOVE HERE! I can't cook to save my life but really, my veggies always taste good. You love veggies. We'll work on fruits, yes? Start packing.Also, no one ever suspects the socks? Bloody brilliant! I think I must adopt it as well, it's just so... perfect. As are you, only you would dig up such a treasure! Hope you survive till Keem returns and brings Order with her.
5:11 PM
Lioness said...
Eh?? Moderation?? What's happening? Must read on!
5:12 PM

Open letter to my body

Dear body.

Just what the heck is going on? Okay, I get the whole I chopped my bangs thing. That was my own fault. But what's with the two-toned hair? I realize you refused to let the pink streaks take and fine, maybe bright pink isn't the right hair color choice for a woman who has just turned 40. Fine. I get that. But now having bright, bright red where the gray was and maroonish black (which only shows under office lighting (in other words, I can't spell florescent)) hair is okay? That I don't understand.

And then there's the whole heel spurs/possible arthritis thing. You realize that by having heel spurs, you've proven Mom right. This is unforgivable. And I'm pretty sure she mentioned I could possibly have arthritis in her knowing Mom tone.

And yeah, I get that I wasn't really watching where I was going on Thursday and I walked into a pothole (for those of you wondering why I haven't claimed it, the pothole wasn't that big and I really can't file a workman's comp claim on something that is already a problem. After ice and propping up my legs on the footstool at work, I'm doing much better. Still sore but was there already) and wrenched the knee again. And the limping, holding on to chairs, really, really, really hurts when I'm tired thing, I get that. I'm old. Fine.

But I do not understand this latest fiasco. I do not understand what the problem today was. I got up. I went to work (after missing my bus, of course) via cab. I had a nutritious lunch (chicken with rice soup). What was up with the nausea right before I left work followed by the horrible bus ride and the dry heaving which was then followed by walking into the apartment and throwing up in the kitchen sink? That I don't get. Not at all.

Does this have something to do with the 5 cans of Mountain Dew and the really disgusting "hamburger" that I got out of the "Wheel O'Death" (also referred to as the "Vend O'Hurl") I had for breakfast? Because point taken. Point really taken!

Knock it off. I can't afford to be sick. I'm going to bed now, you wuss.

Sincerely,

Me

Lioness said...
Oh you poor thing. Might I suggest some halthier living? You know, less hamburgers for breakfast? More fruit and veggies? No? You want to hurt me? Oh well. YOU NEED TO EAT BETTER!

The Incident

*Cue creepy music. Because, while the incident wasn't that scary or dreadful, except for the PAIN, the title The Incident just cries out for creepy music.

Anyway, those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile might remember that I work in a pretty old building in South Saint Paul. You might even remember that this building has a tendency to have things go wrong with it. Well, I have learned why this is.

Call me paranoid but I think the building is trying to kill me. Slowly (but not Beth, the world's slowest assassin, slowly. At least with Beth she's trying to make me laugh to death, not blow up or freeze to death or cause PAIN).

Here's some of the things that the building has done in the past to send me to that great big Malt Shop in the sky (okay, since I chopped my bangs, "Beauty School Dropout" has been going through my head).

Posting paused for a moment while I deal with the world's most insecure cat who has just walked through the apartment meowing every two seconds because I am not Keem. Keem is not here, she has left him and I have no idea how he is going to deal when we go to Denver in May (fortunately there is a concierge who will take care of him during the week and Kari has agreed to stay here on the weekends). I'll be back.

There was the gas leak, the week that the air conditioning stopped working, the time the heat stopped working, the other time the heat stopped working and screw it, I'm tired of linking to them. I got distracted by other posts and have decided that Beth and I are quite amusing. And that a lot of weird things happen to us, especially at karaoke.

Anyway, so Thursday, the manager of the bank comes over and says to Co-worker John that there is a really bad smell and they think it might be a gas leak so they're evacuating. I go over to Co-worker John.

DM: Did he say he thought there was a gas leak?
Co-worker John: Yes.
DM: Of course.
Co-worker John: I'm emailing Vicki (fake name, her real name isn't very common but she's the secretary/admin of the boss of the boss of my boss (still no clue on what the possessive of boss is)).
DM: Well, all the managers are in a meeting* so I'll let Andrea know. She is the default manager.

*Yeah. The meeting they were in? It was a meeting to discuss what will happen if something goes wrong with the building. Or what we'd do if there was a disaster and only 50 % of the people could get to work. Kind of ironic, don't you think?

I see Andrea walking toward me.

DM: Hi, default manager!
Andrea: Oh dear.
DM: Yeah, there's possibly a gas leak. What should we do? Co-worker John's emailed Vicki.

Just as I say this, all the manager's come pouring in and ushering us out of the building.

As I am walking outside, I see one of my former employee's from the phone center is on her break.

DM: Hey.
FE (former employee): What's going on?
DM: Yeah, you may want to step away from the building with your lit cigarette.

I get about halfway to our designated meeting place and stop.

DM: Okay. That's it. I'll just stand here.
The Other Cheryl (not my boss): No, we have to go down there.
DM (limping to designated meeting place): Yeah, well then I want my Hoveround.

We cluster in the parking lot. After awhile we see the other groups of escapees from danger heading towards the entrance to the parking lot. We decide to walk there (in my case, limp, cursing my stupid body for deciding to fall apart on me).

After standing around some more, while my right heel and left knee start indicating to me that they are not pleased with the standing around, it's time to go off to the VFW. The VFW is kitty corner from our building. So we walk across the street. I am limping more severely by now.

Finally, we are inside the VFW. I head for a table and sit, thankfully, into a chair. The pain from my left knee has started to travel up to my lower back and sitting helps control the back spasms.

I swear to you that I was sitting down for two minutes when someone shouted the all clear. Two minutes. And then it was back across the street and up the drive through lane. I had a brief thought of walking across the parking lot to the entrance on the first floor (our building is built into a hill so the drive through lane is somewhat sloped. Not so steep but it felt like a mountain on Thursday) so I can take the elevator. I decide not to do so. This was a mistake.

I am pretty much just walking along, just one foot in front of another, when it happens. I am not paying that much attention to the ground. There's no ice. No reason to walk the pace of an arthritic snail because I'm afraid I'll fall (my biggest fear, other than the spiral staircases, etc. and vampires, is slipping on the ice. Ask Beth. I have been known to hold onto her for support). Because I am staring at the door, just counting the moments until I can be back at my desk and in my comfy desk chair and put my legs up on the footstool I brought in, I do not see the pothole. It's not a big pothole, mind you. It probably wouldn't do much damage to a car. But it is enough to make me trip.

And it is in the tripping that I wrench my left knee. It is in the tripping that I come down hard on my right foot. It is in the tripping that I almost fall, flat on my face (fortunately it didn't come to that but it was close). Somehow I manage to make it to my desk and promptly pass out from the PAIN. Okay, I didn't but I wanted to pass out. It would have made a nice change. Unfortunately we were busy and I could not go home without it becoming an attendance issue (sometimes you can schedule a half day if it isn't busy). The only thing keeping me from getting a 5 on my performance review was my attendance so I didn't want to screw that up if I didn't need to...plus, I may have to go to physical therapy if the problem with the knee is arthritis and I need to have the vacation time for that.

Anyway, that's The Incident Beth was referring to on the last post. Nothing exciting, exactly, but it did get a quip from Bryan when she told him about (I didn't go to karaoke because of The Incident (except Beth referred to it as the misadventure and I think I called it the mishap...eh, my blog. I like The Incident better) - "It's fitting. When we hit a pothole, it just damages our car. If you don't drive, there has to be damage somewhere."

Oh, and Patti made a comment about the Lark carts as being not so fast. I'm not a fan of Seinfeld but I did watch it on occasion and I immediately flashed to one of my favorite episodes. Brief synopsis. Beth, avert your eyes (Beth hates Seinfeld in a way that I reserve for tomatoes).

George goes to a job interview. For some reason, he is limping and his new boss thinks he is handicapped. George gets the job and is given perk after perk. Here's your own bathroom. Here's your special chair (I think). The last thing that happens is that the boss buys him one of those motorized carts. I believe Jerry said something to him about faking the handicap because he is the laziest man on earth. No, wait, here it is "Well it must be comforting to know you'll be going straight to hell at no more than three miles an hour."

Anyway, the part I love is George is tooling around in his new cart and gets into a fight somehow with this biker gang. Except the biker gang are all in their 70's or so and their "bikes" are also motorized carts. He ran into one of the bikes and was rude in typical George fashion. It ends up with this slow-speed chase down the sidewalk. George is trying to crank up the speed to no avail. Finally, in a fit of desperation because he is going to be pounded by the senior citizens, he picks up the cart and starts running down the sidewalk, carrying it over his head. It is then he runs into his boss.

Hilarious. Gordon Jump played the boss and I have been fond of him since WKRP in Cincinati. Plus it was a Puddy episode and everyone knows how I feel about Patrick Warburton and his stocky goodness. Mmm. Puddy.

Open letter to myself

Dana,

Hey. Remember back in high school when you got really sick of your hair and couldn't wait the two weeks for the hair appointment your mother scheduled and you thought "Wow. I bet I could cut my hair myself. No biggie, right?"

Yeah. It is a biggie. Remember how you washed your hair and then trimmed your bangs? And remember the shock when you realized that hair shrinks when it dries? Remember how that really annoying Bernie A started calling you "Victim?" As in a victim of a truck running over your face? Remember the guy in Perkins who saw you and said "God, I hate punks (as in punk rock)?" Remember when you decided you couldn't stand your widow's peak so you decided to shave it and since then it has been a completely different length than the rest of your bangs? Does any of this sound familiar?

It does? Well, that's good. Glad to know that turning 40 hasn't resulted in memory loss along with every freakin' other thing that's gone wrong with you.

So here's my question, Dana. If you remember this, why did you think it would be a good idea to cut your bangs without benefit of a mirror? And when you did remember you had a mirror, why didn't you actually look at your hair? And why didn't you listen to Co-worker's John's pleas that you stop and his threat to tell his wife since she is a hair dresser and how she'll probably end up coming into work on her day off just to fix it? Why? You are aware of the spot where your widow's peak shows through again, right? And no, you cannot shave it. Or cut the rest of your hair short enough to match it.

And for the love of God, dye your hair already. Gray hair in pig tails just doesn't look right.

Have a great day, you dork.

Love,

Dana

I visit the doctor or A post of biblical proportions

My plan was to write about Thursday night and how Beth and I started talking about Trivial Pursuit and that segued into Religious Trivial Pursuit and then Biblical reality shows. Oh, heck, I'll write it anyway.

B: What was Jesus's favorite sitcom as a child?
DM: I have no clue.
B: Three Wisemen and a Baby.
DM: Snort.

Q: What was Mary's favorite song?
A: Like a Virgin.

Q: What was Mary Magdalene's favorite song?
A: Dang it, I don't remember. It wasn't Bitch. I want to say Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch-Me from Rocky Horror Picture Show but I know that wasn't it.

There were sports questions as well but I can't remember them. I don't know why I don't carry a tape recorder around when Beth and I are together. Granted, it would be filled with my snorting all the time and reaching for my inhaler.

DM: That's not my inhaler.
B: No, that's hair spray.

The reality TV shows were very interesting. You should so hear Beth's announcer voice. She is so awesome with it. The plagues of Egypt was hilarious.

B: First there were the frogs. Then there were something (I forgot what the something was)...and then Bob's got to tell poor Timmy he's going to die. Gosh, Timmy, wouldn't it be great if we were Jewish?

I'm sure it wasn't quite like that, it was probably much, much funnier because she is brilliant. There were more but I don't really remember all of them. Help me out here, Beth.

In other news, I had a doctor's appointment on Friday. I have been having some right heel pain and thought it might be Achilles tendinosis. It had been bothering me over the past months whenever I took the trash out or took a cart downstairs (I usually am barefoot whenever possible and it isn't a problem in my apartment because we have the cushiest carpet ever but walking on flatter carpet or concrete hurts). Staying over at Beth's this last weekend, I was pretty much barefoot the entire time, except when we went out. Sunday night, I tried to walk from her dining room table to the couch and ended up doing this hopping, flopping wounded bird walk because I couldn't put my foot down. It was not pleasant.

I also have a problem with my left knee. I wrenched it when Beth and I were in Vegas and it bothers me off and on. The last few months it has been getting worse and will occasionally give me a lot of trouble when I'm trying to stand up. The combination of the two makes me a little cranky and look like an idiot when I'm trying to walk.

I'd been joking about this on Thursday night and made the comment that obviously turning 40 meant that my body was going to fall apart. Then, after trying to understand a conversation between Beth, Sarah and James, I said that maybe I should get my hearing checked.

James: What?
DM: I said 'Maybe I should get my hearing checked.'
James: What?
DM: Rolls her eyes.
James: No, seriously, I didn't hear you.
DM: Maybe I should get my hearing checked.
James: Oh! Ha. That's funny.

Anyway, Friday my brother-in-law Eric picked me up and drove me to the doctor. After waiting awhile (Deb is usually always late for appointments because she is fantastic and a lot of people want to see her) but not caring because I have a book, she comes in and I give her the list of complaints.

I get sent off for an X-ray of my foot. I then hear Deb giggling in the hallway. She comes back in.

Deb: You've got big old heel spurs.

She shows me the X-ray. Oh, yeah, there they are. Great. I get a referral to Podiatry. I am also told I need to go to the hospital for a standing X-ray of my knee because I might have arthritis. And I've also got a referral to have my hearing checked.

DM: Do you think they'll give me a walker?
Deb (laughing): No. You don't want a walker.
DM: Or maybe I could go tooling around in one of those Lark cart thingies. That'd be cool.

Amazingly enough I actually looked forward to turning 40. This is the first birthday that I haven't greeted with depression (thank you, Lord, for creating Effexor and Seraquel). And this is what I'm rewarded with? I'm just waiting for my nose to fall off next.

Ah, humor. If it wasn't for it, I'd be curled into a fetal position and screaming "Damn you, 40! Damn you!" Anyway, I'll see you later. I'm going out to price Hoverounds.

Mom. I'm 40. I can do what I want.

Thank you all for your birthday wishes! I had a great 40th (Johnny, you're only off by one day. Not a big deal. It was Sunday, March 11th). Not at all what I expected. No specter of death hovering over me or the fire department threatening to drown my cake.

Thursday Beth picked me up and we went to karaoke. She picked me up a little bit earlier than usual so we drove around, trying to kill some time. We had the thought "Hey, Dairy Queen would be good" but Dairy Queen was closed. Sigh. Both of the ones we drove by. Granted, it was close to 11 PM but still...

As we're driving along, Beth asks me where we are. Apparently, since we were in Saint Paul, I'm supposed to know my way around the city. Yeah. Like I pay attention.

B: Where are we?
DM: We're coming up to Saint Anthony (street, road, something with pavement). Next one will be Saint...uh...Basil.
B: Basil?
DM: Yes. Patron saint of, um...
B: Spices?
DM: Yes.
B: And the Spice Girls? When people pray to him do they say "I'll tell you what I want, what I really want?"
DM: Absolutely.

To the best of my knowledge, there is not a Saint Basil. I made him up because it was the only "B" name I could think of at the time.

Friday and Saturday we went over to Beth's Mom's house for really good food and rousing games of Trivial Pursuit. I was very disappointed that the one time I was asked a Geography question and did not respond with New Zealand, that the answer was New Zealand. Figures. My football questions are usually answered with Joe Namath, Geography is New Zealand, Presidential questions are Martin Van Buren and the list continues. We had so much fun.

Also on Friday we went to a going away party for a woman Beth works with that I know from my days in the Phone Center at NABABNA. That was enjoyable except for the drunk people that kept singing "Ole ole ole, ole (watch The Replacements and you'll have the exact way they were singing)" over and over and over again. By the end of the night, Beth ended up taking my fork away since she didn't want me to get arrested. It would make celebrating my birthday a little awkward if I was locked up in jail.

Sunday was my birthday and it was filled with excitement. Not only was there the thrill of losing an hour of sleep but there was the added bonus of having to get up early. Joy! We went to see The Gilbert and Sullivan Very Light Opera Company (tradition for Beth, Keem and myself since 2002) with my mom and then to Manny's Steakhouse afterwards.

Here's where it gets interesting.

Before the show starts...

DM: I think I'm going to go have a cigarette outside.
Mom: You sit right down.

She even does the pointing to the bench and the scary Mom look.

DM: Mom. I'm 40. I can do what I want.

After intermission, she didn't come back and we were worried that we had lost her. Turns out that she's been sick over the week and wasn't feeling good. She was lying down somewhere.

Then it was time to go to Manny's. We ended up getting to the restaurant about 45 minutes ahead of time (hey, you have to plan to get lost. That's tradition as well, plus James had to work and 6:30 was about the earliest reservation that would work out for him). We are sitting in the car, listening to Anna Nalick (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x8vHZfzu9Fk).

Mom: I don't like this music.
DM: And?
B: Okay. Well, in honor of Dana, we'll play her favorite song.

I start giggling. My favorite song is by Medium (Bryan's old band) and is called Ten Feet of Rope. A portion of it pretty much walks you through how to commit suicide by hanging ("Now friends, what you want to do is take about 10 feet of rope") and it makes me laugh every time I hear it. There is no absolute way my Mom is going to enjoy this. But, oddly enough, she doesn't say anything.

A few more songs go by.

DM: This is Bryan, Mom. Our karaoke host and Liz's boyfriend.
Mom: Oh? He sounds like a real singer.

I know this is a compliment but it still confuses me. Well, he's human so of course he's a real singer but I think I know what she means. Mom didn't know that Bryan did have his own band for awhile.

Manny's turned out to be a great time. My steak was perfect, as usual, served with garlic butter and I stole some of Kari's pepper sauce, made with cognac, cream and pepper. It was very good.

After Manny's, Beth and I headed off to karaoke. We got lost. Of course. It never fails. We finally ended up at karaoke around 10:30 and I was happy to see Char and Tom and also Sarah. Char and Tom got me scrapbooking stuff (some of it was pink and orange!)! And a pink notebook! That was great. Liz and James met us later and we had a great time remembering the day and some of the Momisms (Bryan is appreciative that he sounds like a real singer. He made sure to let us know that he stands on real feet. But his legs are fake) that came up (such as the operetta was not only in English, it was in American).

And the best part of this weekend? Other than the gifts and the friends and the great food and the singing and laughing and Trivial Pursuit? I finished my Vegas albums. Beth and I went to Vegas March 14th of 2004. I finished the album on March 12th, 2007. 3 freaking years! Yikes. Next is Portugal but I'm planning on being organized for this. Maybe I'll even post some pages once I complete them.

Hope you all had a great weekend. My very cool older sister Nancy sent me a fluffy frog wearing an orange sweater. Isn't that awesome? I spent my 40th birthday doing several of my favorite things - going to the opera, going to Manny's, scrapbooking, karaoke and spending time with my friends and family. If you have to turn 40, this is the way to do it.

What to do when your roommate knows you way too well

By the way, Patty, no, my teachers didn't ever suggest I be tested for AHDT because I was fairly mellow as a child. Give me a book and I was happy. This is still the case but I will be the first to admit that I suffer from Bright, Shiny Object Syndrome.

So. My roommate, Keem. You all know her or have read of her. Keem and I are very good friends and have been since we met at work six odd years ago. It was one of those moments when you meet someone and think "Huh. It seems like I've known this person for years." I have this habit, when I see someone is reading a book, to pick it up and check it out. I love to read and am constantly searching for new authors. Keem was reading a book by Laurel K Hamilton (about Anita Blake, a bounty hunter who bags vampires, among other monsters - good books but a little too gory for my tastes) and this led to a conversation about Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the relative hotness of Angel and Spike and that was it. There was that click and we've been friends ever since.

I'm not sure how Beth and I became friends. While it was at work, I think it was more gradual, I didn't have a clue who she was until we started working the same shift. We worked downtown Saint Paul and after work we would either go to Perkins with Keem. Or we'd hang out in the parking ramp and listen to music and talk (also with Keem usually). We all loved movies and then we discovered scrapbooking and the fact that we enjoyed road trips and it's suddenly 5ish years later and I can't imagine life without either of them.

Anyway, Keem and I have been roommates for almost 5 years (maybe 6. I don't pay attention to these things) and she is a great roommate. She's a good cook, enjoys cleaning (well, more than I do, at least) and understands that I need structure, even when I complain about said structure.

After all this time, it has got to the point that I cannot keep anything from her. She knows me too well. She says I have a tone and she can tell when I am lying (or rolling my eyes or whining (I prefer "complaining creatively" or anything).

She gave me a cold sore. It's probably my own fault. I knew she had a cold sore but I let her drink out of my water glass on Saturday. Yesterday my very own cold sore popped up on my lip (I hate the little bastards. They are just so irritating).

We are in the car, waiting for it to warm up so we can go home. She is telling me about something that happened on her day. I have turned to face her and my face is somewhat hidden by my jacket collar.

Keem (K): And then the stock owner said this and I said something and...DANA!
DM: What?
K: Stop scratching your cold sore on your zipper!
DM: I'm not!
K: Yeah, right! Don't you lie to me, missy! If you do that, it might spread and then you'll get cold sores on your face!

I pull my lips away from the zipper quickly.

K: I know you too well.

I don't know how she knows these things. But I do know she is going to make a fantastic mother some day. I figure I have provided her with a lot of practice.

I am excited about this weekend. I can't believe that I am actually looking forward to turning 40. It is pretty amazing what the right combination of happy pills and good friends can do for you. This is the first birthday in years that hasn't depressed me incredibly (I had a former "friend" who used to say to me on March 1st every year "Dana, you're going to be 25 (or 26 or whatever). What have you accomplished with your life?" And when I would try to say my life wasn't all that bad, he would come back with all of his accomplishments. Sometimes I kind of wish I could run into him now because a) Beth and Keem HATE him and would kick his ass and b) I gained back a great portion of my self-esteem since he is no longer a part of my life and I would love to tell him off. Or sit back and watch Beth and Keem break him into little pieces and laugh.

Posted mainly because the number of posts I already have kind of freaks me out

Beth will be able to figure out what that number is - I try to avoid it at all costs. An old face from the past (Michael) once told me that the number I avoid isn't actually the true mark of the Beast (for a moment I had Beat there and that made me giggle - Fear the Beat! The Beat is bad!) and I shouldn't really freak out (apparently he was in a seminary for awhile) but hey, lots and lots of conditioning makes me nervous and therefore, I am posting. So there.

You know, what makes me laugh about my fear of the 3 6's is that I frequently say "I may be a Born-Again Christian but I'm not crazy" (referring, of course, to Fundamentalists who scare the crap out of me with their judging and hatred and all - I have a button that says "Just doing my part to piss off the Religious Right") so the fact that I kind of arrange my life around it is amusing. And yes, I do believe God created the world but no, I have no idea what this whole Intelligent Design thing is about. I don't pay attention to the controversy because I also believe that Church and State should be separated. And sometimes, just for fun, I really want to tell people I worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster because he is just so damn cool.

Anyway, enough about religion. On to random facts which are more fun, honestly.

• *It is snowing. Again. I realize that I live in Minnesota but seriously, we need to put some thought into weather control. I am having a hard time waiting for the Star Trek world to come around (and yes, people, I am aware that it was a television show but still, I'm sure if we all put our minds to it we could stop global warming, save the penguins and make a 50 feet radius around me be between 55-75 degrees at all times. I don't think I'm asking too much) so that I don't have to worry about possible blizzards. Fortunately I do live in downtown Saint Paul and that means there are lovely things like snow plows and other people to shovel snow so I don't have to worry about it.
• *Considering that I hate snow (well, hate isn't the right word. I would really enjoy snow a lot more if it wasn't so cold and if I wasn't worried that it would make me fall down and break something), I really enjoy scraping windows on cars. I'm not sure why that is.
• *My sister's work closed. My work is still open. I am not pleased.
• *My Mom is in town. I think the snow storm knows she's been living in Arizona for the past 6? 7? years and doesn't have the Minnesota hardiness anymore and decided to remind her just exactly why she moved to Arizona.
• *Barbecue sauce and chocolate are not bad together. I know this because my brownie flipped over and landed on top of my barbecue weiners that someone made for the food day. I didn't wake up today and say "Hmm, I wonder what odd food combination I can come up with to confuse people with (such as the delicious "cottage cheese on toast (cottage cheese, honey, a little butter and, of course, toast)" or one of my favorite sandwiches - bologna and peanut butter (the bologna keeps the peanut butter from sticking to the roof of your mouth or tearing the bread, the peanut butter keeps you from tasting the bologna (hey, my family was poor, Mom used to buy bologna in bulk. I had to learn to get around it somehow))).
• *Keem uses the words "hence" and "literally" just to drive me crazy. It's working. See following email:

From: Keem

I'm going to send you a different email in a bit...hopefully. Will you forward it to Lindsy? She asked if I had any appetizer ideas for a party this weekend.

Me.

From: DM

You,

I'll be happy to forward it to her. Was there anything else you would need today? Thank you for emailing me.

Me.

From: Keem

Dork,

DORK!!!!!

Me. (not the Dork)

From: DM

Nerd,

Well, duh!

Me (the Dork)

From: Keem

Dork,

You're going to blog this crap, aren't you?

Me (the Nerd)

From: DM

Nerd,

Probably not. I don't blog everything.

Me (the Dork)

From: Keem

Dork,

You blog ALOT. I never know what will end up there. Hence the blueberry story...
Don't take it all so literally though.

Me (the Nerd)

From: DM

Nerd,

I am going to kill you. No more hences! No more literallys! ARGH!

Me (the Dork who is now stabbing her eyes out because she has been henced too many times!)

From: Keem
To: DM

Dork,

I apologize that I cannot turn this email into braille as you are no longer able to see. Perhaps you would like to consider getting some sort of voice program that can read it to you. I sympathize with you, however, I cannot resist using hence and literally when it is applicable.

Me (the Nerd)

From: DM

Nerd,

This may end up being blogged yet.

Me (the Dork)

Who says you can't have fun at work? Well, I was at work (this was yesterday). She took a half day. Dang her. I had to take the bus.

It's still snowing. Just so you know. If you don't hear from me again, that's because I was eaten by snow weasels. Or snow vampires. Something snow related that eats people.