Good morning...or something.

Starting off your morning with two hours of driving through Seattle traffic is not fun. Namely, taking an hour through Seattle morning commute traffic to drop the Schmoobles off at the airport for the first Drum Corps Nerd Camp of the season and then another hour through more Seattle morning commute traffic to get to work -- all before the freaking sun even comes up. And we all know that Ys does NOT function well before sun up. Hell, I don't function well by mid-day either, but whatever. What should help, though, is this beautiful hot steaming Triple Grande Soy Caramel Macchiato from Star*ucks.

Okay, you three shots of espresso: do your work!


***UPDATE***

Or not. ZZZzzzzzzzz. * head falls on desk *

Brilliant idea that Ys should but most likely will never follow up on #1

You know what I would love? A grand monster website that has program notes for every single possible piece of music out there. I told Scott this and he said that nobody would bother because there are already books out there. But you know what? Sometimes I don't want to read a whole book. I want 1 - 3 concise paragraphs containing good introductory information that will help me become slightly more knowledgable regarding a piece of music. And then, you know, it can have a list of sources after the program notes for those who want to do further research. Anyway, I think a website like that would be brilliant. Because I've been Googling a certain woodwind quintet and I can't find a damn piece of information about it except for the fact that the Bergen Quintet has recorded it. And that CD probably has some notes in its liner about the piece. But I can't read it because I downloaded the music off of iTunes. Blargh.

In other news, I think I'm getting some kind of bunion in my right foot. Ew. Wait, I don't think bunion is right. There's no gross lump of hardened skin or anything. It's just always sore on that bone underneath my big toe. I'm pretty sure it's because of this pair of brown boots that I bought not too long ago which, while really cute and exactly matching one of my brown purses, seems to be a size or so too big for my tender feetsies. Oh well.

In other other news, I'm planning on taking an unheard-of ten days off from work over Christmas. Huzzah! Huzzah!! Huzzaaaah!!! I cannot wait. Seriously. Can. Not.

Happy Birthday to mein Vater!!

Yes, you must all celebrate the birth of the great man whose seed (ew) spawned the beautimous, most glorious creature of all time!!!

In celebration, my sister had the brilliant idea of giving my dad this for his birthday gift:


The one in the bottom left corner is obviously my personal favorite. Sirloin steaks, pork chops, grilled chicken breasts (boobies!), and gourmet franks (weiners!)...the vegetarian's nightmare. Or, as it is so appropriately named: The Perfect Gift. As I called my dad this evening to wish him a happy birthday, he remarked that, while he loved the gift, he did not really know what to do with all the food. And in true Ys fashion, I remarked, "Don't worry, if you save most of it in the next month, I can take care of it over Christmas." *sigh* I'm such a giver.

Question.

What's the point of going to the bulk foods section of the grocery store and making an ultra-healthy trail mix of fruits and nuts (haha...nuts), when all you're going to do is pick out and eat only the toffee peanuts anyway?

Note to self: Just buy a giant bag of toffee peanuts.

*****

UPDATE: I'm sitting here on the couch watching yesterday's "Heroes" on TiVo whilst laptopping and I keep smelling raw onions or really vile B.O. It's driving me craaazy. I've confirmed that it's not coming from my armpit area, nor elsewhere on my body. It's not coming from Bela who is sitting next to me. And Scott's way on the other end of the other couch, so it's not him. Plus, he only smells when he is emitting his (ahem) natural gaseous emissions -- and those always smell like putrid eggs. Where can it be coming from??? Agh.

AAAaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!

I need to take this moment to tell you that Scott and I are watching the Season 3 finale of "Lost" online and Charlie is f*ing captured in The Looking Glass and Jin just f*ing missed his dynamite target and I am peeing in my f*ing pants.

*deep breath*

Okay, back to the show...

ps. Oh yeah, hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving.

pps. Do I really have to go back to work tomorrow morning?!

ppps. Damnit, Jin! Why did you have to miss your target??!! Gaaaaah!!!!

Gobble gobble gobble gobble gobble...

Okay, it is now 2:30 in the morning and the majority of the delicious-making has been done. Only a few mishaps during the process:

1. I could only find one kind of Asian egg roll wrapper in the "Ethnic Foods" aisle at the grocery, and it's not the traditional type of lumpia wrapper that I am used to from when I was growing up. I had to get the Vietnamese rice paper thing. It should work okay. I test-fried one lumpia tonight and I don't think the heat was high enough, nor did I let it fry long enough since the outer wrapper was this weird hybrid of crispy/chewy/greasy. Errors duly noted. Will do much better when we head over to our friends' house and I cook them there. Regardless, the lumpia filling that I made turned out PERFECT. Also, my mummy's recipe made a ridiculous amount of food. Woo hoo! Pre-emptive leftovers!

2. I could not find cornstarch in the grocery store. At all. We went through the entire store twice, and I paced up and down the damn baking foods aisle at least ten times. No dice. I finally gave up and decided to try again tomorrow morning, when my brain isn't dead from spending an eternity in the produce section trying to figure out what the hell a parsnip was and where I could find 3 cups worth of them. Anyway, we were standing in line at the checkout counter and Scott heroically offered to make a mad dash and try to find the cornstarch. As I started putting our groceries on the conveyer belt, he came running triumphantly to our line and, since he could not get to me easily through the people in line behind me, he victoriously raised above his head so I could see a gigantic jug of ... corn syrup. Ah well. All I could do was look up and slowly shake my head from side to side with a frowny face. It's the thought that counts, right?

3. By my third hour of improvised chopping, grating, grinding, etc. since we own neither a blender nor a food processor, I made the (definitely) wise decision to pull the Cream of Parsnip Soup with Potato Crisps and Bacon from my roster. The recipe, according to Mistah Emeril, calls for an hour and a half of prep time, and another hour of cooking time. Zoinks! Hells no. But, seeing as how I devoted a rather large portion of my life hunting down those damned parsnips earlier this evening -- which may or may not have involved me sidling up to one unsuspecting fellow shopper and asking if she knew what a parsnip looked like and then remarking, "Where the hell's the produce guy when you need him, right?" -- I will attempt to make this soup at some point this weekend. I'm sure it will be delicious even though I have no idea what parsnips taste like ... but it involves fried thinly sliced potates and crispy bacon, so it will be glorious.

Anyhoo, in the all too likely event that I will be entirely too stuffed and bloated later today to roll myself over to a computer, I will say this now: Happy Turkey Day everbody!!

One day 'til the gorging.

It's nearly 8pm and I have yet to go to the grocery store to even buy the ingredients with which I must make variety of delicious Turkey Day delicacies by the early afternoon tomorrow. Is that bad? Now that we have finished the second season of "Lost" and the third season DVDs aren't out until the middle of next week (DAMNIT!!!), at least I won't have that distraction tonight. Not that those episodes aren't available online or anything...

Anyway, right now my recipe list for tomorrow is lumpia, cream of parsnip soup with potato crisps and bacon, green bean casserole and peanut butter banana cream pie. Clearly, I spent too much time at work today searching the Intarwebs for some yummy recipes. Hey, at least I aim high. If our kitchen is not a giant ball of fire by noon tomorrow, I will have considered this a success!

In any case, hurray for the 4-day weekend!! Even though I'm going to have to go in for a short bit on Friday to take care of one specific book order for one very specific high-maintenance customer. Yurgh. Oh well. Ok, off to have some pre-Turkey Day dinner (sushi...mmm!) and then onwards to the grocery store to load up on some lumpia ingredients. Huzzah!

Quick thoughts.

1. NoBloPoMo, SchnoBloPoSchmo. I blog when I want, damnit. And right now this means only strictly during scary moments of "Lost."

2. At last count I've already gotten sick 3 times since the season has changed. And now all of a sudden I'm sneezing and coughing again. What in the hell?! Does my immune system go into hibernation during the cold months now? Unacceptable. I'm going to account this to the fact that I've been neglectful (lazy) in taking my asthma meds for a couple days. Hopefully now that I'm huffing twice daily from the weird purple disk and popping my crazy-expensive little pink pills, I better feel better and soon. I will not be sick for Thanksgiving this year again!

3. Speaking of Thanksgiving, the Schmoobs and I are going over to a friend's house to have Turkey Day with him and his wife. There was about a 10 second discussion about which couple should host the meal. But then when I made the points that a) Scott and I live in the apartment of a college sophomore and don't even have a dining room table, and b) our carpet bears the unfortunate evidence of the vomit stains of both Scott's step-brother and Bela, it seemed a more logical choice to have it at the friend's house. I won't mention that fact that these are the same friends who are lending us their "Lost" DVDs and that Scott and I should just about be ready to trade Season 2 in and get Season 3 around Thanksgiving. Perfect timing, eh?

4. "Lost" tangent: Henry Gale is f*ing creepy. I hate those evil little sideways smiles right before the commercial breaks. Everyone in this f*ing show is f*ing creepy!! Hurley and that other mental patient chick?! Come on!!

5. Also about Turkey Day: aside from a number of side dishes and desserts that I somehow plan on shopping for and making at some point between when I get off of work on Wednesday and dinnertime the next day, I'm also going to attempt to make lumpia -- just the way my mommy makes it. She gave me the recipe today. I'm excited. Mainly because -- at the risk of ruining the sentiment with a blatant double negative -- lumpia is never not a hit at any gathering involving food. Ever. I mean, if there's a person out there who only knows one Filipino dish, that dish is definitely lumpia. Hands down. Guaranteed. Or maybe balut, thanks to "Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern" and "The Amazing Race." But that's a whole other story altogether.

6. "Lost" tangent #2: Okay, if Kate insists on giving Sawyer some sexy foreplay a haircut, she should have at least given him a real haircut. Yeah yeah yeah, he's got the whole shaggy-haired rebel bad-boy thing going. Whatever. Remember how hottt Peter Petrelli was in the second season opener with his newly shorn hair? Yowza. Sawyer: get on it.

7. "Lost" tangent #3: Locke most definitely looks better bald than he does in his flashbacks. That hideous combover? Yikes. Good riddance.

8. This morning I had an interesting change of pace and got bitched at over the phone by a bitter old violin teacher instead of a bitter old piano teacher. It's nice to change things up every now and then I guess. I knew it was a bad sign when the first thing she said to me on the phone was, "You people are getting very lazy over there. First of all, you didn't say that your area code is 425..." Are you f*ing kidding me? That's what you're going to start with, old lady? Because a) I don't know what piece of information you got our phone number from, but the only pieces of information that our company has bothered to place our info on are the phone book, our website and business cards. And those all have our area code, so I'm perplexed; b) I know you've shopped in our store many many times before. I've seen you with mine own two eyes, I have. So I refuse to believe that you don't know exactly what city you are in when you walk into our store. And I want to assume that this means that you should know what area code matches with this city. And not just city, mind you, but aaaaall the surrounding cities in this area. Yeesh; c) Really? You're pissed because we didn't tell you what our area code was?! Oy, I give up.

9. I can't watch "Lost" without Wikipedia-ing it episode by episode. Scott thinks I'm cheating, but I can't stand it!! I'd pee myself from anxiety if I didn't.

10. "Lost" tangent #4: Okay, it's one o'clock in the morning and Michael just shot Ana Lucia and Libby and himself. Blargh! There's no way we can stop watching now, damnit!! So much for sleep tonight. Good thing I've got a long weekend to catch up on sleep...

11. The easy listening radio station has switched to all Christmas music, the red holiday cups are in full bloom, Christmas blend is brewing, and I'm happy as a clam!! A pepperming mocha clam!! 'Tis the season, my friends. Hurray!

12. Unfortunately, 'tis also the season for bitterly cold air outside, overly heated air inside and dry, red and itchy skin. I need to switch moisturizers again. My face is in serious need of some good ol' fashioned Neutrogena intensive moisturizer lovin'. We all know my favorite place to go to for home beauty essentials...hurray again!

13. You know what's a beautiful piece? "Solvejg's Song" by Edward Grieg. It's from Peer Gynt. I heard it a few nights ago at this voice recital that I played for. Note to self: next time you attend a voice studio recital, sit in the back, bring your laptop, and blog away. Nothing says "blogging material" like 90 minutes of sheer tone-deaf awesomeness. I know that's totally a snarky/elitist thing to say. I have no excuse. On the flip side: I picked up a $100 check for about 3o minutes of playing total. I told the teacher that I wanted $80, but I guess he was feeling generous. Either that, or he felt that I earned the extra $20 fr sitting thru the whole recital. Whatever, I'll take it and run...to the nearest Star*ucks. Yoink!

***UPDATE***

14. Okay, it's now past 2 in the morning. I've taken my pre-bedtime shower and have proceeded to slather my extremities and entire face with some long-forgotten Ponds moisturizer I dug up from under the sink. That stuff is like lard compared to the other moisturizer I'd been using. It should hydrate my skin quite nicely. Either that or I'll turn into one giant pimple. I swear I've got the world's most sensitive skin. It's a very delicate little dance I have to deal with when I choose face cleansers, moisturizer, makeup, etc. One wrong move and that's it. Or that's zit. Hahahaha...I'm so clever.

"Lost" is taking over my life.

And although I would like to be able to use that as a viable excuse as to why I haven't blogged in 4 days, the truth is I can't use that because Scott has been out of town since Thursday and I am too creeped out by the show to watch it by myself. So I haven't been "Lost"-ing at all. Until now, of course, since Scott got back this morning. And after two loads of laundry, a brief apartment cleanup, and the also requisite 2pm breakfast (Corned Beef Eggs Benedict -- oh, those greasy diners will think of the craziest things! -- and Stuffed Hash Browns) accompanied by the requisite Star*ucks Soy White Chocolate Mocha, we have done nothing but watch more episodes of the second season of "Lost." Pretty exciting, eh?

Anyway, I promise to blog more in the next few days. And you all know that a promise like that coming from me is worth just about as much as one of Bela's dust covered turds in his kitty box. Oh well. It's the thought that counts, right? Anyhooo, back to "Lost."

ps. Geez, when are Kate and Sawyer gonna do it already?!

Lucky II?

So it seems as though I am somewhat nearing the end of the tunnel, and will have completely paid off my baby boy Lucky sometime next year. Huzzah! Upon realizing this, I did what any nonsensical, financially-inept twenty-something would do and started frantically window (online) shopping for and obsessively researching my next car. I, of course, have no reason to even start thinking about purchasing a new car yet, but ain't no harm in fantasizing about it, know what I'm sayin'? Any thoughts? I'd want to aim for a 2005 model at the earliest. I'm on a Volvo kick lately. Probably because my sister drives one, and it's the cutest thing ever. Also, because I am fairly confident that a 2005 Volvo S40 is unlikely to start growing mold during every rainy season.

I also am a big fan of Mazdas. Don't really know why. I like their styling. But I've never really been familiar with that brand of automobiles, nor have I really been close to anyone who drove one (I think?). No, scratch that. I've known several people who drove Mazda Miatas, but those things look like they'd explode if you just looked at them too hard. No thanks. Long story short: I loathe 2-door cars. 2-door cars are the devil. Perhaps its my version of a short-complex?

I also love love love the Prius. And considering that I come from a Toyota family, it would make sense for me to look at owning a Prius. Especially since I live in the Land of Tree-hugging Hippies, so pretty much every other car I see out on the road is a Prius. But this has somehow had a negative effect and I'm kind of turned off by them now. I gotta be an individual, man! ...even at the sake of destroying the environment. Forgive me, Al Gore!

Anyway, that's it. I'm interested in hearing some of your thoughts, suggestions, fart jokes, etc.

...

Dear NaBloPoMo,

You can't tell me what to do! You're not the boss of me! Go suck it!

Love,
Ys

***

And on the 12th day, Ys rested. And it was good.

***

In other news, I have learned something about myself and it is this: If I were to ever murder anyone (batty old piano teachers anyone?) and were sentenced to sleep with the fishes, my final meal would be Tom Kha Gai soup, Miang Kum spinach appeteezer, Pad Khi Mao and Massamun Curry. Oh, and a Diet Coke. And then an Almond Joy Sundae from this place. And then a Star*ucks soy caramel macchiatto. The end. I came to this conclusion after eating Thai food yesterday for lunch, Thai food leftovers yesterday evening for dinner, and then Thai food at a different Thai place for dinner tonight. Scott and I have an exciting evening planned, mainly consisting of popping the second season of "Lost" into the DVD player (Omg, this show is ridiculously good. However, Locke: awesome or creepy? Both?), so I will most likely be enjoying some Thai leftovers for second dinner in a couple of hours. If I keep this up, I might just turn into one giant drunken noodle...and then I'd be forced to eat myself. Ooh, what a vicious cycle that could turn out to be...

***

Anyhoo, apologies for the lack of quality posts lately, mates. Not that this blog is really known for its "quality" posts, per se. More like the complete opposite, really. Poop, farts, Star*ucks, etc etc etc. Anyway, apparently my blog-persona doesn't like to be told what to do. Like, you know, write a mandatory post everyday and stuff. Also: I've done nothing but work and watch "Lost" every night...oh, and eat Thai food. And work has been keeping me busy enough these last several days (weeks? months?) that I can't even post about how bored I am at work. What a shame.

In other other news --

*** BOOP BOOP BOOP. YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOGGING HAS BEEN INTERRUPTED FOR THIS DISGUSTINGNESS ***

Scott: Ys.

Ys: Hm?

Scott: We need a new bathroom.

Ys: What did you do....

Scott: You can't go inside the bathroom again. Ever.

Ys: What did you do?!

Scott: All that Thai food we just ate? Is now in the toilet. It's making its way down the toilet...

Ys: (silence)

Scott: I saw peanuts.

Ys: (silence)

Scott: It was the size of Bela.

Ys: (silence)

Scott: Except not as solid.

Ys: (silence)

Scott: Like it was in a blender.

Ys: (silence)

Scott: (silence)

Ys: Can I put that in my blog?

Hooray hooray hooray!

No words. Just sheer joy.

Behold: the Guardian of the Holiday Star*ucks.

I guess the Bela doesn't fall far from the tree either...

Two minutes after I took this picture, Bela decided to jump on top of the television where we had two little candles burning. He now has a few kitty-toes that will be forever covered in pine-scented wax.

Leave me alone, it's Saturday.

I've spent roughly 75% of the day lying on the couch passed out. Mainly because I had no caffeine whatsoever and could not bring my body to stay away for more than 30 minutes at a time. So you will please forgive me for not posting anything else today. I'm only up right now because I had to go to the little girl's room. Maaaybe I'll write more later if I become more conscious at any point within the next 4 hours (unlikely). But if not, I'll smell ya later.

Droooowsing.

Okay, so remember about a year and a half ago when I was working for the KSO and stealthily made my covert escape "vacation" to the "west coast" for a week, when, in reality, I flew to Seattle to meet up with Scott so we could look at apartments and check out UW? I never wrote much about the trip, really. Even though I think I said I would. Whoops. Imagine that. Well, in a nutshell there was lots of oyster-eating and gin and tonic-drinking and being-forced-to-pretend-to-be-a-rich-yuppie-couple-while-accidentally-taking-a-tour-of-new-million-dollar-seaside-condos*. Also, because Scott had just accepted the doctoral assistant position at the School of Music, there were concerts by the University of Washington and Seattle Symphony ensembles to attend. There was one particular concert which showcased new music (hurl) for various chamber music ensembles. And in this particular concert was an especially particular composition by a young-ish female composer. It involved a smattering of instruments and a soprano.

The lyrics (libretto? text?) for this piece were interesting in the sense that every other word seemed to be "drowsing." But not just that, it was sung like a sophomore-year vocal performance major doing her incredibly irritating vocal warm-ups in the practice room next to you and she's so loud and obnoxious that you just want to take your clarinet swab and shove it down her throat. Like: "DROOoooooowsing." Over and over. "DROOoooooowsing." "DROOoooooowsing." "DROOOOOoooooowsing."

Also, did I mention that the soprano soloist was also the composer? Her voice was...nicht sehr gut. The whole thing was just really bizarre. I don't remember much else about it except that the concert was at the end of a veeery long day filled with Scott having to do the obligatory incoming-doctoral-assistant duties and shmoozing with big important wind band conductors and composers while I provided the essential arm-candy. In short, I was one crabby betch. And there I found myself sturggling to stay awake because of the 3-hour time difference while sitting there f*ing listening to this crappy soprano go "DROOOOOOOoooooowsing" for like twenty minutes (seriously).

Anyway, the moral of the story is that it is now 1:00 in the morning and I was supposed to be asleep 2 hours ago. So I have taken a melatonin pill to see if that would help me go to sleep at all and my first thought as my eyelids started to get a little bit heavy was: DROOOOOooooowsing.

So I wrote this post.

And in doing so, I have fulfilled my daily posting obligation for today. Huzzah!



*Ooh, that was a funny story. Too bad I never wrote about it! Haw haw!

Blahg.

Yet another day in which I come home at 9:30 (one hour earlier than last night -- huzzah!) and eat my first meal of the day. I cannot wait until exactly 24 hours from now. For realz. Because then it will officially be the weekend and Scott and I can commence doing what we have been doing almost every night this week, keeping us up at all hours of the night, and causing me to stumble into work every morning all bleary-eyed and unrested...

...watching the first season of "Lost" on DVD!!

Holy crap, why had neither of us ever watched this show before?! It's entirely too creepy for both Scott and I, but, hot damn, this show hooks you in with no mercy! Ugh.

Anyway, I'm thoroughly exhausted. I just got some bad news that I will have to expound on, probably tomorrow. "30 Rock" and "The Office" are waiting for me on TiVo. And I just inhaled a Big Mac and fries after not having eaten anything all day. That means I have to go now.

I just got home and I have 1 1/2 hours left until the posting deadline!

It is a universal truth that, in every order of curly fries, there will inevitably be The One Perfect Curly-Cue Fry. The one which, amidst all the mish-mash of curvy shapes and tangled pieces, will be the most pristine tightly-spun corkscrew. Now, there are two kinds of people in this world: 1) Those who will see The One Perfect Curly-Cue Fry and gobble it up without a second thought, and 2) Those who will always save The One Perfect Curly-Cue Fry for the very end until all the other inferior curly fries are gone and you can behold The One Perfect Curly-Cue Fry in all its glory and savor its consumption as it so deserves.

I have always been the latter. For as long as I can remember. When I see The One Perfect Curly-Cue Fry, a little part inside of me leaps for joy and then hurries to cram all the imperfect curly fries down my throat so that I can eat The One Perfect Curly-Cue Fry. Because it always has to be saved for the end. It Must Be Saved For The End.

Anyone else feel this way about curly fries?

Long story short: It's 10:30 at night, I've just gotten home and taken off my shoes, and am currently eating my first meal of the day courtesy of Arby's. Perhaps I've grown insane from hunger. That is my official excuse for writing this post. And now that I've obligatory post for the day and, in the process, exposed yet another slightly disturbing side of my psyche (psychosis?), I can finish working on finishing up the rest of these inferior fries so I can get to...well, you know what.

It Must Be Saved For The End.

*sigh* Only because I'm contractually bound to post every day...

Just got out of Wind Ensemble. I don't think it's a good sign when you find yourself mentally blacking out roughly 5 times during one 2-hour rehearsal session because your conscious fell into some black fantasy in which you suddenly leap up from your seat and start violently strangling various individuals within the group Homer-Bart-style whilst yelling, "Stop rushing!!! Why can't you play these 16th notes evenly??!! You suck!!! I hate youuuuu!!! Aaauuugh!!!" Vey.

I swear I'm not tooting my own horn (pun intended) here, and not that I don't enjoy playing in an ensemble - especially when it allows me to escape the hell-hole that is my day job - but I've definitely reached the point where I have no more patience for players who cannot play a SIMPLE LINE OF SIXTEENTH NOTES EVENLY WITHOUT RUSHING THEM GODDAMNIT AND YOU'RE A FREAKING DOCTORAL STUDENT IN PERFORMANCE I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW MUCH YOU SUCK!!! Oops. I went a little crazy there again at the end. My bad. No wait. I mean they're bad. As in, THEY'RE FREAKING HORRIBLE I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT YOU'RE GETTING A DOCTORAL DEGREE IN MUSIC PERFORMANCE AND YOU DON'T EVEN REALIZE HOW MUCH YOU SUCK AND YOU SHOULD JUST TAKE THAT HORN OUT OF YOUR MOUTH AND JUST BEAT YOURSELF OVER THE HEAD WITH IT REPEATEDLY!!!! GAAAAH!!!!"

*deep breaths*

Hey, this daily posting thing is pretty therapeutic.

***

In less frustrating news: I got called to play a gig next week. Schubert's "Shepherd on the Rock*" for clarinet, soprano and piano. Pretty sweet. One rehearsal, then it's showtime. My kind of gig. Plus, $80 to play a ten minute piece? Thank you sir, may I have another? Nice.


* Or Der Hirt auf dem Felsen if you want to sound smart. Or pretentious. Whatevs.

When the cat's away, the Ysabel will come out to play.

So Bossman is away on vacation all week. This is one of those instances where I really wish I had a handlebar moustache, because then I could twirl it all mischievously and then wring my hands together while going "Muahahahaha!!" And then I'd make a big flourish with my big purple velvet cape and scurry off into the shadows to do some dastardly deeds. Like blogging on company time. Or sending slightly insulting memos to other departments. Or listening to Justin Timberlake's "SexyBack" on the sales floor...the explicit version (ooooooh)! Or calling customers "bitches" or "ho-bags."

So I guess what I'm saying is that things will be exactly the same. Except with a slightly lower possibility of me getting fired this week. Hooray!

Also, I have noticed that this posting daily thing has done nothing to encourage you people to comment on my posts. Boo. I will give you this gentle reminder until I "release the hounds," as they say.

Update.

Someday when I am Princess of the Universe and can rule one and all (finally), I will make 3-day weekends mandatory. Blargh.

Favorites of this very moment.

1. Television show: America's Most Smartest Model. Lord help me, I love this show. Whatever self-esteem I may lose not looking like a supermodel, I gain back ten-fold for knowing that "Darfur" is not the name of a men's cologne. Also, that the author of "Tom Sawyer" is not...Tom Sawyer. Score!

2. Music: Sam Cooke. Who knew I had such a love for old school R&B? "A Change is Gonna Come." No words. Just go download it on iTunes.

3. Movie: The Transformers. Scott bought this on DVD a few days ago. Okay, maybe not the height of cinematic screenplay genius, but, hot damn, those robots are f*ing awesome!

4. Food: Cheetos. At 10 in the morning. For breakfast.

5. Drink: Diet Coke. At 10 in the morning. For breakfast. Will be surpassed in roughly 45 minutes when I go to give (un)Lucky an oil change and stop by Star*ucks for a soy Pumpkin Spice latte.

Really?

Everyday? Even on weekends? Sheesh.

Nothing exciting to report. Except that today I got my Monthly Confirmation That I Am Thankfully Without Child. My back hurts and I am without Midol.

Also, that I had a soy Pumpkin Spice Latte from Star*ucks on our way to breakfast plus another 2 cups of coffee during breakfast...and I still feel the need for a mid-afternoon Saturday nap. I think a trip to Target might wake me up a little bit. Except that would involve a stop at the gas station. And I think the depths of my laziness on weekends might be just enough that putting gas in (un)Lucky could actually dissuade me from going to Target. Wow. I've sunk to a new low.

*****

Oh yeah, and in case you were on the edge of your seats wondering if I was fired from my job re: my previous post. I was not. He just wanted to ask me about a couple of boxes of music books that he noticed in one of our other warehouse locations. I don't really think Bossman is perceptive enough to realize that my email was making a dig at his expense. In fact, later on that day I sent an email to our accounting person because she was having Bossman-issues as well; problems which involved aforementioned invoice-payment-freakouts by Bossman -- freakouts which, as is this case, can involve Bossman refusing to cut any checks to our publishers until I talk to the account reps and see if I can get them to let us return some product. So I emailed to our accountant:

{Major publisher} does not accept returns. Period. I made this clear to Bossman WEEKS ago.


And then she forwarded this to Bossman. For criminy's sake. I think this is turning into some sick game that I play with myself. How many times will she subtle-y insult Bossman via email before she gets fired? Oooh, only time will tell!!

Insert virtual foot into virtual mouth.

You know what I hate? When Bossman calls and leaves a somewhat stern message on your voicemail that states simply this:

As soon as you get to your desk, call me on my cell phone.

Especially when the only reason Bossman ever needs to talk to me is whenever he comes across an invoice that freaks him out and he tells you that there's no way he is going to be able to pay that bill (Um, you do you know your company owns eleven stores, right? And that I am supposed to order enough sheet music to stock all eleven stores, plus our warehouse? Ok, just checking...).

But most especially when you got an email from one of those other aforementioned stores inquiring about a piece of information on the company's website that is so severely outdated, that it was a subject brought up at one of the very first meetings you attended over A YEAR AGO and still hasn't been attended to. So you emailed the store back and send a somewhat catty, tongue-in-cheek reply to the effect of:

This is why Bossman REALLY needs to finally hire somebody to fix that damn website. As far as I can tell, it hasn't been updated since 2003!

And then this store does the most idiotic thing they can possibly do and, instead of mentioning it to Bossman, proceeds to FORWARD MY EMAIL TO HIM!!!! Auuuuugh!!!

Oy.

Oy, why today of all days?

Apparently, today is the beginning of National Blog Posting Month. Or NaBloPoMo if you're nasty. This basically means that blogging is slowly taking over the entire universe (as evidenced by the kitty to your left). Also, that I am officially obligated to post every single goddamn day this month. Sheesh. Unfortunately, this also happens to be the day following the night when I ate must have eaten some bad fugu or something because my intestines have been waging an epic battle against some evil bacterial underlord all morning. And yet, I roll myself out of bed and onto the couch to post this blog as I writhe in pain. Because that's how bored pathetic dedicated I am. Yeah, that's it!

Happy NaBloPoMo! 'Til tomorrow, my pets...