Yesterday at work, somebody walked down my aisle and said, "What's that smell?"
I don't know about you, but I always panic when someone says that. Am I wearing another kitten-pee shirt? Did I accidentally bring a bag of dog poo in with me? These things are entirely possible when you're me.
Fortunately, the building was burning down and the smell was not mine.
I work in a cool old building that used to be a textile mill, and just so you know, everything in North Carolina used to be a textile mill. This house was probably a textile mill. I don't know what happened, except probably in 50 years everyone in China will be working in a cubicle that used to be a textile mill.
The point of my story is, it was some kind of electrical fire and although I never got to see flames–other than one questionable fireman–we all got to go home for the day. Supposedly today everything will be fine, but I am bringing s'more items just in case.
Now, some people might take an unforseen day off and head to the park with their dogs. Some might get their credit card and go shopping. Me?
Oh, I had a good nap. I kicked Edsel out of the room, because even though his entire goal in life is to be sleeping right next to me, all he does is FIDGET during our naps. Fidget fidget fidget. Oh, my foot needs biting. Hey, is someone walking by outside? I gots a itch. Let me sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff snifff SNURF in your ear.
So he was out of there. It breaks his heart. But screw him. I was gettin' unplanned nap time.
Also too, I have freelance work to do from the statistics company. And a mature person might have said, Oh wow. Now I have all day to tackle this work so I don't have to struggle with it in the evenings!
Yeah. Who picked up that work at 8:30 last night, finally?
And did you see Tom Hanks and that phony Julia Roberts on Oprah yesterday?
So it was an exciting day off. A lot was accomplished.
I guess I was tired from fornicating with everyone in North Carolina all weekend.
(To be clear, I fornicated with absolutely no one this weekend. I was on the phone with my friend Paula earlier, and I mentioned I had two dates over the weekend, and by the end of the conversation I had exaggerated it from "I had two dates" to "I performed acts of bestiality on every creature in the Western hemisphere." Which makes no sense. You can only perform acts of bestiality on beasts, right?
Also, Paula kept drinking out of a glass of something, and as she talked she would sound like she was speaking from a long ice-filled tunnel. "What are you drinking?" I asked, annoyed that anyone would drink things while talking to me, and not giving me their undivided attention.
"Lemonade and iced tea," she told me.
"Oh, yeah," I said. "Isn't that called something? A Jack Horner or something?"
Paula brought her Jack Horner up through her nose holes, she was laughing at me so hard. "An Arnold Palmer, but Jack Horner was really close."
Arnold Palmer, Jack Horner. What's the diff? This is the longest parenthetical comment in the history of time.)
This Jack Whore better get in the shower so I can see what's left of the charred remains of my workplace. Maybe the building caught on fire because I'm so damn hot.
P.S. I just got on Facebook and saw this poem Miss Doxie wrote in the words of Edsel. I am sorry; she kills me, Miss Doxie does. And she might be a titch hotter than me.