5:40 — Yawn. Hit snooze.
5:50 — Hit it again, damn it.
6:00 — That’s the emergency alarm. Time to get up.
6:01 — Oh, screw it.
6:02 — Hit snooze harder. Maybe the alarm will break.
6:10 — Nuts. That’s the back-up to the emergency alarm.
6:15 — Get. Out. Of. Bed. Or. Face. The. Consequences.
6:16 — What consequences?
6:20 — You are now 40 minutes late… Oh *censored*!!!
6:21-6:47 — (Body functions on auto-pilot; brain refuses to be meaningfully engaged)
6:48 — What smells? Oh, Bionic Kitty, that’s gross.
6:49 — Wait, that’s not cat gas. What’s smoking?
6:50 — Oh, Holy God! The hair dryer is on fire!
6:51 — So’s my hair. Wait. My hair? MY HAIR IS ON FIRE!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Shhhhhiiiiiiittttttttt!
6:52 — Toss that sucker into the bathtub! Unplug it! Go! Go! Go! *censored*!!!
6:53 — PutyourheadunderthefaucetandturnitonNOW! Please don’t let me be bald. But then again, maybe this is a good excuse to call in for work.
6:54 — Well, this is just great. Do you have hair left? Is the damage bad?
6:55 — Thank you, Great Hair Goddess. I am not bald.
6:56 — Ack! Work. I am supposed to leave for work in four minutes. I am still naked! And smouldering!
6:57 — Dunk the head again…and wet the whole thing this time.
7:00 — Face it, hair is a lost cause today. Find a pony tail holder. The only real damage is a little singe in the back, right? (scrutinize back of head in the mirror, by twisting and turning and using a compact)
7:01-7:08 — (Mad dash to clothe self, put hair in pony tail, slap on makeup, grab briefcase, keys and get to car)
7:09 — I forgot deodorant. Nuts. I hope I don’t smell too bad…Maybe the charred smell will cover it?
7:10-7:36 — (Driving to work, enter work, turn on computer, etc)
7:37 — Caffeine. Get some caffeine. Does the pop machine sell two liters?
7:38-9:58 — AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCK. (Frantically try to do lawyerly things without screwing up too badly)
9:59 — Oh nuts, I really do smell. Can anybody esle smell me? I can REALLY smell myself. I’ve got some serious BO going on here…
10:00-10:57 — (On conference call) I wonder if I can maim myself with the paperclip? Hmmm…Oh! Maybe if I poke my eyes out with a business card I can legitimately leave the call. Is this over yet? When’s lunch? What do I want for lunch? Chipotle sounds good. NO! BE STRONG! RESIST! That would consume all the Points dedicated to beer-drinking. Beer. I want beer. That might make this less painful. Maybe Big Boss is drunk. That could explain the rambling. Ack! Focus! He could be saying something important.
10:58 — Who am I kidding?
10:59 — Freedom!
11:00-11:45 — (Body consumed by hunger. Brain ceases to work in protest. Will not function again until body is refueled, preferably by Chipotle)
11:46 — (Admin returns with lunch) May God bless you and shower you with good things.
11:47 — (Admin reveals she has brought back a cookie to split with me) I love you! You are the best admin ever!
11:48-12:06 — (consume food like starved animal in a suit)
12:07-5:38 — (Working, in semi-productive manner) Must prevent overload. Must continue to function. No carb comas. Get a jump start! Go get another Diet Coke! Now, work! Work! Work!
5:39 — That’s all she wrote. I will cease to function in two minutes, so get to the car while I’m still able to remember where it is parked.
5:40-6:23 — (Stuck in traffic, get to Target, locate aisle E-11) Um, I just need a hair dryer that dries. What’s with this turbo stuff? Ionic? When did these things become physics experiments? Oh, have mercy! This is too much to process! I know, pick the prettiest box! Oh! That one’s pink. Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner!
6:24-7:11 — (Grab pink blow dryer, return to car, drive to meet mother for dinner)
7:12-8:15 — (Gab, gab, gab. Bond.) Note to self: Avoid any discussion of boyfriend status, procreation, small children, reproduction, grandchildren and biological clocks, namely my own ticking one.
8:16-8:29 — (Drive home)
8:30 — (internal comfort-seeking device kicks on) Couch. Couch. Couch. Take off heels. Hallelujah.
8:31 — The inventor of Tivo deserves a Nobel Prize.
8:32 — Surviorman’s hot.
8:33-9:44 — (drooling)
9:44 — Where did I put The Cowering Captive?
9:45 — (locate literature of great merit and content regarding A Great Romance–and throbbing members)
9:46 — (Brain shuts off due to exhaustion, body eventually makes it to bed)
Archive for September, 2006
5:40 — Yawn. Hit snooze.
In my trolling, I came across a great gift idea for that person who has everything. Because, really, they probably don’t have a membership to the Hot Sauce of the Month Club.
Every year my good friends throw a Halloween party. It’s evolved from a casual dress-up party with a keg into a Real Bash which demands days of pre-party water intake to combat the alcohol consumption. But the best part — even more fun than the beer pong — is the costume competition. This is the not the type of party where a guest can just grab a sheet, cut some eye holes and show up. Oh no, there are prizes for the best costume and like any red-blooded lawyer, I must win that prize. Even if it is only a Pez dispenser. After all, that Pez dispenser represents something…Namely, that I beat somebody else into a costumed pulp.
Last year, the Bash featured costumes like Sam Adams and the St. Pauly’s Girl. In the past, John Kerry even paid a visit. So, here I am, invitation to the Bash in hand and consequently contemplating costumes in mid-September. There have been several ideas I’ve contemplated only to reject as un-Pez-worthy.
Madonna: Who wouldn’t want to see me in a pointed bra? But where do I get a pointed bra?
Miss America: I shouldn’t be aiming so low. I should go as Miss Universe!
Lady Godiva: This involves nudity. I like it…The police might not.
Wonder Woman: I can have my magic lasso and my bracelets. Any my superhero beer.
A Magic 8 Ball: While I love the idea of asking myself if I should have another beer and seeing “Signs Point to Yes,” I foresee bathroom difficulties if I am wearing something big, round, and stuffed.
Monica Lewinsky: I can wear a navy dress…
Judge Judy: I have the robes, I have the gavel. I just need some people to be the plaintiffs and defendants who will argue about “LaShirl taking my $200 for crack money and using it to buy nudie pictures at the local Piggly-Wiggly.”
Lately, I’ve been overly emotional. It’s like I have the worst case of PMS I’ve ever had, and I’ve had it for three, yes, three weeks. I’m not snippy, I’m just ready to cry over anything. If somebody eats the last marshmallow, my eyes leak. The other day, the Star Spangled Banner sent me into a good sob. And today, I bought the Snow Patrol album (which is excellent, by the way). Song number three, Chasing Cars, sent me totally over the edge. I was driving back from Easton and I had to pull over. My body was becoming dehydrated because I was crying so hard. And then what did I do? I hit repeat.
Beause you still speak to me after watching me clean my bathroom with a anal retentiveness that would drive most people to suggesting I have a mental disease.
My friend, who I will call Phil, has a job that involves a lot of down time. Thus, he is constantly looking to fill vast periods with aimless things (which ideally do not involve porn). A few days ago, I got an email from him asking me to update my blog. Looking at my handy, dandy sitemeter, appears I help him kill twenty seconds of work time on a daily basis. It might not be a lot, but I guess when there are hours and hours between testing batches of fungal things, every little bit helps.
Phil, today’s slew of posting is dedicated to you. Now please stop giving me death glares each time you see me.
It’s that time of year again…Each fall, I lose my mind for several months while I get sucked into OSU Football. This year is no different…
At the season opener
Script Ohio, at half-time
Strangely, I find bandies hot
Recently, my friends took me to the Croton (aka Ohio town in the middle of nowhere) Fair. In order for me to venture beyond the outer-belt, I generally have to be drunk and/or told there is a shoe sale. In case this, my friends used the other magic words: Demolition Derby. People aimlessly smashing cars into each other, without the benefit of a safety harness, really appeals to my lawyerly side. Where most people see mindless entertainment, I see whiplash, reckless endangerment, and a 33% contingency fee. In a word, heaven. Of course I went.
It was a night of fun, frivolity, and mullets. For the viewing pleasure of my six Loyal Readers (three of whom were in attendance), here are the pictures, kindly supplied by Kelly…
Waiting for the action to commence
Where things get demolished
Smash! Boom! Powee!
He needs my card
Kelly goes Hick, or the World’s Most Awesome Shirt
Kelly on the Ski Game at the Arcade
Note John’s getting checked out in the background