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she· verb
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05.04.03 It's been awhile since my last update and I don't have a lot of time to craft something cohesive for you out of the last week or ten days. So presented here for you are a number of short paragraphs detailing my actual real-life adventures. Also, I plan to delineate these brief events with the use of horizontal lines so as to not confuse or frighten you. I will now begin! As I was walking down the hallway at work today, I lost the vision in my right eye. It just suddenly went fuzzy and I couldn't see anything out of it. My immediate thoughts, in quick succession, were as follows:
The fourth and final thought occurred immediately after I heard a clattering at my feet. Work Related Dream Number 1 It had been determined that Aerosmith would perform one of our technical manuals and a huge debate raged over whether or not the material was suitable for singing or perhaps "spoken word" format. Seeing as he was the one presenting the document before a large audience, I felt it important that Steven Tyler be consulted on this decision. Nobody listened to me. Shortly after I wrote my last entry, I heard the most delicate of noises--like a small and dainty fairy farting behind me. I turned around and Theo had crapped what looked like a pint of raspberry jam on the floor. It smelled like pennies. Unsure of what to do, I cleaned up the mess and put Theo into the kitchen where he shit out a whole mess of bright red blood. After several more messes, a call to the emergency vet and a sleepless night, Theo was diagnosed with severe hemorrhagic gastroenteritis. That's a whole lotta sick for one little dog. He stayed with the vet through the following 36 hours, hooked up to IVs that probably saved his life according to what I read on the internet (where I go for all my immediate medical informational needs). He seems okay now, but I can't stop inspecting his poo. It's a revolting habit. Work Related Dream Number 2 We were documenting milk and a huge debate raged over whether or not to refer to the reader as a drinker or a user. I couldn't care less what term they used--I was concerned the product would spoil before they could make up their minds. Nobody listened to me. I made a dude at a hamburger joint happy, which in turn, made me happy. Last week I pulled up to the drive-thru, ordered a Number Three, was provided with the total by the voice emanating from the speaker, and drove ahead to pay for and collect my meal. Much to my chagrin, when I reached into my wallet, I was about two bucks shy of the asking price. Plus, I could not drive away because the guy already saw me. I sheepishly mumbled something like, "I'm an idiot, I don't have enough money," and showed him my three bucks as if a visual of the wadded up bills in my fist would be confirmation for him that I was indeed, unprepared for the transaction and probably very bad with money as well. The guy (Randy per his name tag) said, "Just give it to me," rang me up, and GAVE ME MY NUMBER THREE FOR THREE DOLLARS! I toyed with the idea of asking for extra ketchup and salt, but figured I'd better just thank him and be on my way, lest he insist I return my lunch for being a jerk. This week I was driving by the joint at about the same time and thought, what the hey, maybe Randy's working the lunch shift again and I pulled in, ordered the Number Three (those chiks are tasty and no I'm not a vegetarian anymore) and drove up to the window. Randy was there! My heart was actually pounding a little as I gave him a ten and told him that he hooked me up last week and this week, he was to keep the change. He looked so surprised and then so happy that I wished I gave him a twenty. Work Related Dream Number 3 My boss wanted us to put on a play for our customers where we were supposed to be different elements of a computer program. I was to cast and direct this production using my staff. For example, my head writer would be the main menu, my two other writers would be features such as Print and Data Linking and my production editors would be functions like Process, Cancel and Delete. My boss also wanted me to incorporate some singing and dancing. I felt this was a hugely moronic endeavor, but she wouldn't listen to me. I found Mothra hanging out in the walkway between two buildings at work. He was so pretty I just wanted to stick a pin in him, stretch out his wings, use a glue gun to mount his dead body in a glass box and hang him on my wall. I'm kidding, you know. Sort of.
On Thursday I'm leaving for Connecticut in one of those creepy little commuter jets, the kind that crashed in Charlotte earlier this year. In fact, it's the same airline, the same type of jet and I have a layover in Charlotte. I believe I'll be ordering a cocktail or three that afternoon. If you're in the greater Charlotte area and can be at the airport between three and four, drinks are on me. (No stalkers allowed.) I am now done with my entry.
Begone!
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