after these messages

we've moved, all of our shit is in boxes on the floor somewhere in this house. that's a good thing.

we're going to denver this weekend to see steely dan, which is an awesome thing.

i have resolved not to worry about anything, nor to think about the "real" world until after i get back from our little trip. which includes proper blogging..look for me the middle of next week..

everyone have a groovy weekend..

not to beat a dead horse..

but it's still pretty miserable here. and the ac went out at work. 108 outside, 92 inside.

i'm going to let whoever's reading pick the next topic:

obscene cross stitch

or

the history and legend of thursday night drink club.

six million ways to die...choose one.

110 degrees in the shade

no shit. just looked at the thermometer..it's in the shade and it reads 110. thus the title.

oh god, why have you forsaken us?

(i hate kansas)

UPDATE: the above was at 5pm. now that it's 8.30pm, it's a mere 102. in the FUCKING SHADE...

another cross stitch masterpiece in the making

the blues

apparently, my boyfriend has them. he's been singing everything he has to say tonight in a gospel-blues style rather than simply speaking it.

i'm awestruck, perhaps even speechless. thus the simplicity of this post. i just heard the "your call cannot be completed as dialed" medley. it's amazing.

men are so interesting.

maudlin

a friend of mine, an old and dear friend, called me tonight with the news that he's got testicular cancer and will be having emergency surgery on monday morning. i'm going up there to be with him, as much and in whatever way i can. he'd do it for me, and he's been there for me when i was going through dark times.

tonight, he's throwing a Goodbye-My-Ball ball.

common scents

i've worked far more trying retail gigs than this cushy design-and-consult thing i do now...nonetheless, i turn to the blogosphere to air my chief complaint (that was a pun, soon you'll understand).

there is a big ass (another pun!) YMCA right next door to our store, and folks think it entirely appropriate to go there for a bit of sweaty goodness and *then* come to shop the depot.

some people are manual laborers. it is not exactly flattering to them, nor appealing to me, that you should smell like one and want to shake my hand. quite right that you should want some exercise, but for the love of god, a shower man! shower! or at least a little AXE or some other smell-goody nonsense. stop bringing your sweaty self and your sticky children to pollute what little "personal" space i have.

dammit.

thanks to all who sent me a photo. pants wins. brent, i'm still waiting for your particular piece of ancient history photo..