Where do birds go to die? Do they just fall out of the sky in mid-flight? If so, why aren’t we hit more often by expired fowl? Or smacked by bird carcass once they’ve lost their death grip on a limb?
These and other useless queries burn in my brain.
I also spent an inordinate amount of time this week speaking with a slightly younger coworker about which Charlie’s Angel he liked. He preferred Kate Jackson, which always baffles me. Why would anyone who isn’t a lesbian prefer Kate Jackson, when there were actual pretty Angels to choose from?
My coworker said he picked her because she seemed the most likely to give a five-year-old boy a shot at her, which is what he was at the time.
I had similar pipe dreams about Barry Gibb leaving his wife for a certain wiry-haired 14-year-old girl, so.
So, how is everyone?
We had Spirit Week at work, and I know I told you my dreams and hopes and joys were shattered by events at work last week, so I was calling it Crush Your Spirits Week at work, but finally I knew I was going to be able to talk to The Powers That Be about my problem without crying yesterday, so I did, and I asked said powers to give it to me straight, and they DID, and now I have a fixable solution to my woes and I feel, like, 800 times better.
Part of Spirit Week at work was we gave people an opportunity to go to our studio space and have professional portraits done, and as you know, nothing says “professional” like our June. Really, I just went in there to take pictures of people having their pictures taken, to cover the event for the company newsletter. Naturally, as soon as I got there, no one was HAVING their picture made, so I had the guy pretend to be taking MY photo, and that is the travesty you see above. Fortunately, someone normal came in and had an actual professional photo taken, and I captured that on film and the newsletter remains pristine.
In fact, I’ve edited our company newsletter for five years, and this week I handed it over to a new crew. I decided I’ve done it for long enough–the longest anyone’s ever edited it, in fact. It’s going to be very hard to let that go, I think. Hard to see something happening at work and not think, I NEED TO WRITE THAT and STICK IT IN THE NEWSLETTER.
Anyway, today is Wear Your Alma Mater day, or Wear Your Sport day, or something. All I know is I’m wearing my Michigan State sweatshirt, and people will assume I attended one sporting event in seven years at MSU. Or that I know the fight song, or that I’m all, yay, Sparty or whatever Michigan State fans say to one another. Look, I know where all the BARS were in East Lansing, circa 1989. What more do you want from me?
I guess that’s all I have to tell you. The weekend yawns before me, with nary a plan, and I guess I’ll (wait for it) paint my bedroom and see if I can get Alf over to fix how I ruined the hallway by tearing down the wallpaper during my so-called manic episode, MOM.
I mean, it’s September. Do we think I will really never have sex with any delightful new man all year? Will 2017 really be the year of Oh, Forget It? Cause, seriously?
Maybe I should try trolling places other than the paint store. Maybe that should be step one. To be fair, I also went to Office Depot and got painter’s tape last weekend. So.
June. Puttin’ it out there at Sherwin Williams and Office Depot. Since 2017. I literally showed up at both places braless last weekend. If that doesn’t bring all the boys to my yard.
I guess my point is, I’ve made almost zero effort to meet men this year. In fact, just now, I was all, am I even ON any dating sites? And I looked at my phone and see that I am, but I haven’t looked at them in ages. Where should I go to meet the dudes? Doesn’t anyone know a nice, smart, non-vanilla man they can introduce me to? Must love 400 pets.
I’d better get in the shower and zip up m’Sparty sweatshirt, because go sports things.