i don't know when i noticed life was life at my expense

Dear Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport Transportation Security Administration Employees:

I truly appreciate the fact that you have millions or at least thousands upon thousands of travelers come through security each and every day. Truly. I can empathize with the sheer stupidity of people who, after standing in the long line that had several TV sets loudly announcing the rules about traveling with 3 ounce containers or smaller of liquids, packed separately in a quart-sized Ziploc bag, put through security separately, still, somehow, have giant bottles of shampoo with them, amidst their carry-on luggage, imperiously demanding that you personally provide them with a Ziploc bag, thinking they could put the liquids that do not fit into said bag into their carry-on anyway, and who the fuck needs to travel with a gallon of perfume, people?

I hate them even more than you do. Really.

However.

Would it be possible for you to have a separate line, something like, Line for People Who Literally Just Discovered They Had Their Favorite Monthly Visitor and Who Are Totally Unprepared for Said Visitor and Need a Restroom Absolutely Positively Immediately?

'Cuz, I have to say, NOT letting me out of line after I got in, making me stand in the extra long line was one thing. But the guy who waved me through the x-ray machine who stared at my now-bloody crotch, ever largening pool of blood running down the legs of my jeans like I'm in 8th grade math class sitting next to The Boy I'm Currently Crushing On and wearing white pants and OMG can you BELIEVE it? I was SOOO embarrassed!!!! and it's really not my style now that I'm 32 years old and mock openly said 8th grade math class girls, well, that's just umm. So LAME. Would it really have hurt to let me out? And THEN to not let me to the closest restroom, but force me to go on the train to the A ("as in Ascot") concourse, wade through the dumbasses who stand at the top of the fucking escalator and, mouths agape, look around for the baggage claim (it isn't fucking here, douche), to force my jeans to be utterly ruined, to force me to endure more 8th grade math girl embarrassment, well, you suck.

You just plain suck.

This time, I was lucky. This time, I had two brand new suits, purchased from Bloomingdales just today, with me. I was able to change in the restroom and pretend like I had come to the airport in this suit. But this all could have been avoided had you some common decency and caring.

PS. To the ignorant bitch in the airport waiting area: Puerto Rico is NOT part of Spain. It is not "totally freaky weird" that it's "like America, only in Spanish!", nor that Puerto Rico's currency is the dollar.

PPS. To the total bitch in front of me on the airplane: You know when you put the seat way the fuck far back, and it wouldn't go further, and you kept BOUNCING to make it go further back? That was my knee.

PPPS. To the cab driver who drove me home from the airport: Please, for the love of FSM, PLEASE learn how to drive.

PPPPS. To all cab drivers in DC: I don't believe it's my job to tell you how to get to my house. Address? Sure. Closest major intersection? No problem. Telling you that the best way is to go up 12th Street, turn right on Vermont, left on Florida, right on Sherman, right on Harvard, and right on Georgia? Why do I have to do this every single fucking week? What would you do if some other person I knew came to visit me and had never been to DC before?

buß und reu knirscht das sündenherz entzwei

So, okay, I'll admit to being a classical music listener. Not in the "I want to be pretentious and look all intellectual" bullshit, but in the "I enjoy this music and like to listen to it." I can recognize artists and musical periods and can definitively say things like, "I fucking hate Mozart because his music is obnoxious and annoying to listen to" and "my favorite composer is Johann Sebastian Bach" and "my favorite piece of music in the ENTIRE WORLD is Beethoven's 7th Symphony, 2nd movement."

And maybe all y'all don't give a flying fig about all that, but I feel like I can get opinions from you on this one topic nonetheless.

Does anyone else think it's weird that a classical music album was hailed by Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin as one of his top ten favorite works of classical music, and that this endorsement is the central piece in the advertising and marketing of said album?

listen to the girl as she takes on half the world

So I was showing my roommate (hottie mcHott) the iTunes music store and she was all, "Gee, $1.69 is a lot of money to pay for one song" and I was all, "what the fuck you talkin' about, Willis?" and then I saw that every song was $1.69 and the albums were $17.99 and what the deuce happened to my $0.99 songs? The Man Who Lives in the House would've said something. So I called The Man and screamed "What the crap?!?" a la Jess and "why the fuck didn't you tell me?" and he had no clue what I was talking about so I told him and he said he hadn't heard anything and since he spends all of his free time reading Mac rummor boards, I believed him and then we figured out that somehow, iTunes decided I was a CANADIAN.

And so I say again, what the crap? My stolen wireless du soir cannot be from the Canadian embassy. I'm too far away.

j'y pense et puis j'oublie c'est la vie c'est la vie

A note to people who work in a small office environment:

When you choose to all go to lunch together, it's really mean to exclude the one person in the office who always ensures that you are not excluded from other lunch invitations.

When all y'all leave the office at the same time to enjoy this lunch, it's really dumb to not let the excluded party know s/he is the only person there, so when the client calls, s/he is prepared.

I don't need to be your friend. But not everyone in your group is your friend, either. All you've shown me today is that you're jerkier than I thought.

People fucking suck.

but every night all the men would come around and lay their money down

Today's lyrics for Sarah, because she admitted to also liking "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves" and sang it with me in the kitchen this morning. And listened to it with me on my iPod on the bus on the way to work this morning. Because I had it on my iPod. Doesn't everybody?

Last night, I made, with Sarah and Jo's help, an apple pie with the apples that were rotting in the kitchen.

Only, ummmm, we couldn't find a pie plate. And there weren't enough apples (because we couldn't see the other FOUR in front of our faces). So we threw in berries. And put it in a casserole dish. And we don't know how it tastes. But it looks good.And then I played Snood for five hours just like I do every night and morning for the past two months worked on my computer for a bit. And doesn't it suck when your stolen wireless gets a password so you can't check for updates to Snood stream NPR in the morning?

with all the things continental are you red

Whilst I still await massive amounts of work to do (which will all come at once, mind you), here's a picture of my new hair.It's amazing how, when you tell the hairdresser you want fire engine red, how much they want to argue with you.

"Don't you want it to look natural?"
"No, I want it to look like I could never possibly have been born with this haircolor, thanks very much."
"Are you positive?"
"Yes, I really am."
"Well, I don't think you're going to like it that red."
"I won't like it unless it's that red."
"I really hesitate to do this to your hair."
"Fine, then, I'll go somewhere else."
"No, it's good, it's all good."

Twat.

i get bored i get bored i get bored i'm bored

Nothing left to do at work. Twiddling my thumbs.

one time a thing occurred to me what's real and what's for sale

I don't have too many details yet and what I do have I don't want to share right now. That said, here's the deal.

There's a job, and I may or may not be qualified for it. It pays either a little bit more or a LOT more than what I make now. It's still in the DC Metro area.

Here's the thing. And this may come as a surprise to some of you.

I fucking LOVE my job. I adore it. It's constantly challenging, often dfrustrating, and I'm a total workaholic. I HATE jobs that make me focus on one thing. I want to do everything. I get to do everything with my current job. I likely wouldn't with another job.

So I can either be a money-grubbing whore, and do something that, frankly, I'm feeling a bit pressured about, or I can remain happy (and stressed) in my current position. (Keep in mind, the new one which I haven't been offered at all would likely be stressful anyway.)

where you going for tomorrow where you going with that mask i found

don't you hate having teh hiccups (spelled technically "hiccoughs") at 2 AM when you've had a lot of beer and stuff?

so lemme see if this makes sense to you.

three egg omeletee omelete omelette
with ham and cheese
comes with toast
choice opf grits or hash borwns
($1 charge to substitue fruid, salad or tomatoeo)
so ok
you get the ham and cheese omelete
with hash bowns
rye toast
ans say
"i want the tokato, too"
and they say, "$1 fee"
why is it $1 instead of hashbrowns but also $1 in addition to hash browns?
and they give you three measley sloces of tomato.
three.
remind me to tell all y'all the mcdonalds story.

better better than a dream what you are is better far than a dream

The exam went well.

The first essay was to do what I used to do in my job.

The second essay was to do what I do in my job now.

I think I passed.

you need someone for a saviour

By the way, remember the exam I took parts 1-5 of back in May and I managed to pass?

Tomorrow I take part 6. And I'm SURELY gonna fail.

and in the night i could be helpless i could be lonely sleeping without you

4 AM.

Awake.

Hey, there are noises downstairs. Like somebody's moving around. Want to know what happened last time I heard those noises at 4 AM? This happened a few weeks ago.

So I woke up at 4 AM and heard noises. But I didn't think much of it and got ready for work, and went downstairs and made breakfast. And was about to take my first bite, and I looked up.

And there was a giant fucking RAT in my kitchen.

So I screamed like a five year old girl and ran upstairs and grabbed my roommate and we screamed for our other roommate who woke up and opened the back door (to let the whole giant rat family inside, ostensibly) and went back to bed.

We never did find that rat.