November 19, 2010

I would just like to say, damn this anonymous guy straight to hell.

This guy, he accidentally (I presume, because what a weird stupid prank otherwise) listed my phone number as his alert number for Windows Live text updates. SO I get a text every time he gets an email. About marathons, or REI sales, or what the hell ever, but seriously it doesn’t matter because I am not him so fuck this.

I can’t block the number because it changes every time, by one.

I can’t get Windows Live to change it because I don’t have a Windows goddamn Live account.

All I can do is just hope that one of these days, ONE OF THESE UNENDING TEXTS, I get his name, or handle, or something, in the subject line of an email. That way I can track him down and be like HEY! YOU! CHANGE YOUR SETTINGS, DICKBASKET.


Eff. Other letters too.

November 11, 2010

Well, hey, look how badly I failed at blogging this time!  BUNGLE.  But I’m about to start blogging for my new job, so that’ll be fun and unusual.  And required, so therefore, easier to maintain.  More like mini-work-essays than blogging, really.  (I’ll probably fail at that, too. Sigh.)

Oh but hey, I have a new job!

I have a new place to live!

I have a new set of responsibilities!  And a new title, and a sexy new business card in Myriad Pro (which font, incidentally, was co-created by a lady named Twombly,  a truly excellent name)!

I have a new boss!  I have a whole cadre of new people to impress, alienate, or enrage!

I have a lot of things to think about. They are mostly of the ‘oh fuck what am I doing’ variety, but I find if I remind myself that I don’t have to look beyond the next year, then I can calm down.  Also drink some gin.

Somebody will let me live in their house and/or apartment building.  I will get my student loans paid.  I will figure out how to fix this fucking database and I will get the board the things they need, and maybe they’ll give me a positive review in the springtime.

I’m tired and hungry, so now it’s time for a Smartypants-style smattering of short sentences.


New boss-lady is fucking cool, you guys.  She is not only an extremely accomplished conductor and composer with skills like whoa, she’s FUNNY and PLEASANT and SUCCESSFUL and also happens to be a LESBIAN.  I only know two other grown-up lesbians, so suddenly working for this kickass woman has expanded my adult lady-loving role models by 33.4%, y’all.  It’s pretty great.  It gives me hope.


Because sometimes I’m like FUCK, why haven’t I gone on a single date in years, when my sister can’t walk four steps without somebody giving her their phone number?  HEY LADIES: I have a phone.  It rings (sometimes, damn you AT&T) and I answer (if I’m not working).  Am I destined to be the creaky old one in my group of friends?  Is that what’s up?  ‘Cause, that bites, and I don’t accept it.  I’m aboutsta try Match, again.  Sigh.


I’ve been trying to lose weight, again, and it’s worked a little in the office ’cause I forget to eat.  Or I remember and can be like, oh, let’s have 280 calories instead of FIVE BILLION.  But then I get home and I have, oh, half a bottle of wine. Or a v8 with gin in it, for my daily faily vegetables.

(I know. It was actually pretty good though.)

I’ll be back, with exciting non-revelations about… probably those same topics, yet again!  Yep.  Nothing if not original.