Thursday, September 14, 2006

Non-sequiturous segues

So yeah, this dumb thing was down and no one seemed to know or care. I took it upon myself to try "re-publishing" it, and that fixed it. Go me.

When I was a little kid, I loved to read my older sister's autograph book from grade school. Thinking about it now, it seems so funny to think of 13 and 14 year-olds writing things to each other like "Remember the beer, remember the foam, remember the night we carried you home" upon their graduation from 8th grade. But then I was fascinated by all the colored pages, filled with "risque" poems and whatever "in jokes" they all had with each other. It seemed like this big mysterious world of adulthood, (as my sister was 9 years older than I, and to me that was a good as grown up when I was 6 or 7) that I couldn't wait to arrive at. Of course I think it ended up being a little anti-climatic once I reached 8th grade. I couldn't wait to get out of there by that point because I ended up being picked on by the "in-crowd" for the last two years of parochial school. Those good Catholic girls you know.

Anyway, I thought of that because when I went to use the bathroom just now there was pee all over the seat, which I hate. One of the poems in the autograph book was:
"If you sprinkle
while you tinkle
please be neat
and wipe the seat!"

Another novel one was this little code written down the side:

I hosted book club last night and had to pee lots with all the wine I consumed. I wanted to call in dead to work today. I am so tired. I was running late to get here, (big surprise) then found a small cup stuck in the disposal drain. It went all the way past the gasket and then I couldn't get it out because it literally just fit through the opening and my fingers wouldn't grasp it and fit back through the opening. I was so annoyed. Annoyed turned to full fledged pissed off when I realized I had stuck my elbow---which was clad in a new top from The Limited, into a splatter of Spaghettios on the counter.

So knowing I was alone I threw a completely juvenile fit by screaming "fuck fuck fuck" while jumping up and down.

Now I have to work in the Pit of Hell known as Triage tonight. If that phone rings off the hook someone may lose an appendage. But hubby is sending me "Monk-E-mails" and making me laugh. It's funny to hear this animated monkey say "That sucks for you" in a computer simulated voice with a British accent.



Anonymous said...

I thought WE WERE the "in crowd" the last two years of CC... :-)

Anonymous said...

If I didn't know better I'd say you have an enlarged prostate. Triage is bad if your co-workers suck. Sinc I'm not there it can't be that bad (at least for me). Also, oru poems started with B4 I4q ru xyz.