But, here I sit. Behind my desk. At work.
It's not bad here,nope,not at all even. I actually like my job. It's just that, well...there are a few other things I'd rather be doing.
Bungee Jumping. Hey, I've done it once before. Since I lived, I'd like to do it again.
Making my own Root Beer. My totally awesome friend Amy brought me some A&W today and so help me they have the best rootbeer! I've got to find/steal that recipe!!
Manicure. My nails look decent but oh my it would feel fantastic to have my hands softened, preened and massaged.
Licking the bowl. I pretty much don't care what's in said bowl. It's usually always something yummy and more than likely chocolate.
Take a hike. Literally. Camp Horizon is calling my name...shhh, can you hear it too?
I'm realizing this list could go on and on my friends so I'll just stop for now.
But tell me this....What would YOU rather be doing? Because in addition to the above, I'd rather be reading my friends blogs than being at work ;)
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
I just wanted some milk
Anyhow, like I was saying, I'm in Braums yesterday and I notice this woman struggling to open the door as she is holding a purse that can only be carried if you're of linebacker size. This thing is HUGE. Not just big, I'm talking GI~NOR~MOUS. And it's not even cute. But I digress...not only is she carrying this "purse" she is talking (yelling) on her cell and juggling her keys. Now let me paint you a picture. This is not just a run of the mill key chain, no ma'am. It's the Rolls Royce of key rings. It's got bells and whistles, literally. It's got to weigh 4-5 pounds and I can only think to myself that's got to be hell on her ignition although I'm not sure why I'm thinking that. Probably some urban legend thing I may have heard growing up or something an old boyfriend told me about my key ring when I was 16 so I would take off 1-2 pounds of my keyring. Sooo, I go open the door for her.
I'm nice like that.
As I open the door I say, "Looks like you have your hands full." This "lady" says to me, "Your point?" And continues to talk unnecessarily loud on her cell phone. (tilt your head, furrow your brow and say WHAT..here) I just turned and walked away in disbelief at her rudeness. Geez, I was just trying to be nice. Not thirty seconds later I swear... she drops the keys. And of course everyone in the store hears this happen cause like I said, it's heavy and full of dangly crap. But not only is that the sound we hear, it is followed by a very shrill overflow of expletives streaming out of her overly sparkled glossed mouth. Hello?! Children and lil old ladies are in here!! But since I'm the closet to her and I do it without thinking, I bend over and heave her keys off the floor and as I'm handing them to her she JERKS them out of my hands. But wait!! There are so many doodads, whatnots, thingybobs and dooma~flachies on the thing my pinky is caught and she damn near rips it off! YOUCH!! I look at her in a pained/pissy kinda way (what, you didn't think I was going to let that slide completly did you?) and she says in a way that can only be described as BITCHY, "These are mine." I'll just let you simmer on that one for a second. I had to as well, plus I had to make sure my poor pretty little pinky finger was ok. It's my favorite digit.
Onlookers. Yep, it's a small town people and an even smaller area we're in so they are everywhere. A few of them just kind of shuffle along muttering under their breath cause they have no doubt seen and heard everything that has transpired in the last minute and a half, and hopefully just as surprised as I. There's a little man, and by little I mean just an inch or so taller than me little that notices that I'm looking like a deer in the headlights staring at Bertha then my pinky, then back at Bertha (that's what I've named her by the way) and cracks a smile and says, "Her husband has gotta be miserable." I feel better.
I get in the short line with my goodies and I can still feel my heart beating in my poor lil digit. I'm trying not to look at her. I'm fully irritated and am willing myself not to accidently on purpose knock her eggs out of her hands, when of course...Bertha steps in line right behind me. Great. She's still on the phone, still jangling (Jangling is a word, look it up in the Tonya~ism Dictionary along with Dooma~flachies) her key thing, still lugging around "Gertrude" the purse. If Gertrude was a color, it would be the color of this purse. I continue in line just looking off into nothing just begging for it to be my turn so I can get the hell outta there. Finally, I pay for my items, grab my stuff and head toward the door. The last thing I hear as the door behind me starts to close is....
Wait for it...
"Where the F@!K is my wallet?!?!"
Have a nice day :)
