It's 8:32am on Sunday. Clothes are in the laundry, the house is clean, I had pop-tarts for breakfast and I went to sleep exactly 12 hours ago.

I heart Sundays, except for the fact that they have to end. And I'm really not looking forward to the next few weeks.

I do not respond well to upheaval, and my life at work has been all sorts of upheaved. I have to remember that this is a good time for me to practice my courtesy and patience skills, because normally...I has none.

Yesterday was a really good day. Darrin helped me clean up the house, and then we went into the Cities to do half of our anniversary celebratin - we picked up some Checkers and went down to the River Walk where we spent the first night we met together. (aw) We found the same picnic table where we sat seven years ago and talked until the sun came up. We didn't stay that long this time - but it was good. Then we came home and had the most awesomest sex I've had in a long time. Gah. Hence the going to bed at 8:30. *L*

Why Owls are skery

Owls freak me right the hell out. There is something about them that just...gah. I give proof:



This was posted on CuteOverload.com, and I'm sorry...there just ain't nothin cute about that damn thing.

Owls are the one animal that make me want to cower on my knees, begging for my life. I remember one day when I lived with my parents, my dad brought out the binoculars so I could see an owl sitting in a neighbor's tree. I brought the binoculars up, and focused on the owl, and nearly dropped the damn things because I had the most powerful sensation of...needing to show some sort of submission to it. Make it understand that I wasn't a threat or something.

This completely random post is brought to you by the fact that I did something really huge today and I'm pretty much braindead beyond that.

Why is it that I can't get away from stupid on Monday mornings? Why is it, when I am trying to get these freakin people PAID on Monday mornings, that I am suddenly overwhelmed with stupid questions?

It never freakin fails. Never. I can count on getting at LEAST 3 stupid questions while I'm up to my ass in payroll - questions about attendance points (when everyone KNOWS that their general foremen can look that up just the same as me), and random benefits questions ("What would I have to tell them so that I could get my girlfriend on my insurance?") and whatever freaking else happens to pop in their tiny little brains that convinces them it's SO IMPORTANT that they have to interupt me while I'm trying to GET THEM MONEY because they can't wait OMGWTF and if I try to ignore them they STAND THERE and STARE AT ME.

Seriously, why is writing in caps so theraputic? hee.

CAPS LOCK IS TEH AWESOMES.

Moving on.

I gave this blog to someone I know. It was surprisingly nerve-wracking for me, waiting until I heard from this person to make sure they still liked me. How silly is that? I was worried that the things in my life would freak them out - but I actually got a compliment instead of a freakout. So, yay for you.

I talked with fish today about something that was a little...I'm not sure of what word to use yet. She told me that she was watching TLC this weekend, and they played the "Half-Ton Mom/Dad/Teen" series - basically shows about people who are morbidly obese. She mentioned that the shows made her mad, because she figured that once people got to a certain point, they should have done something about the weight. I told her that I wasn't allowed to watch those shows (edict from Moose) because I too often see myself in them.

I see the fear in those people, the same fear that I have, and that I'm starting to realize how much I have. I have had fleeting glimpses of that fear, so I can imagine what living an entire life based on it would be like, and so I can too easily put my face on those bodies and just....freak right the fuck out. It's my greatest fear, becoming like that, and yet, that fear only paralyzes me in a state that only exacerbates that same fear. I'm afraid because I'm fat, and I'm fat because I'm afraid.

I haven't found a fear...or a want...that is stronger than the fear I already have, so instead of being motivated, I just...am.

I was tagged by Chloe!

Rules:
1. Link to your original tagger and list these rules in your post
2. Share 7 facts about yourself in the post
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post, leave their names & links to their blogs
4. Let them know they’ve been tagged

Okiedokie. Except I'm not sure that I know 7 seven people to tag.

1. Although I don't subscribe to any organized religion, I get giddy over what I call "science of Jesus" stuff. Books and tv shows about factual biblical things just make me happy, I have no idea why. Best TV Show ever? Mysteries of the Bible. Holla.

2. Instead of a headboard, we have pillows that sit against the wall and the pillows we sleep on. Sometimes, one of my cats will sleep on that pillow right above my head. She has the magical (and most likely entirely in my head) ability to make headaches go away by putting her paw on my forehead while she's laying up there.

3. I am 31 years old, and I sleep with a stuffed frog.

4. My sister (the Goon) is the funniest person I know. Together, we have created the car-ride-Muppet-dance, the Asshole dance (which has a complete backstory about flinging assholes over one's shoulder after cutting them out at a slaughterhouse), PimpdaddySnuggles, and the Evil Easter Bunny.

5. In order to get to the point where I had a BA in computer network administration, I went through 7 years, 4 colleges (University of Northern Iowa, University of Iowa, Marycrest International University, and St. Ambrose University), and 4 majors (history, anthropology, graphic communications, and cna).

6. Sometimes, there is nothing in this world that I hate more than myself.

7. My favorite memories of college involve a dance troupe I was in. It was a folk dance troupe that did traditional dances from all over the world. I could sing in Romanian, did dances from Greece, Hungary, Egypt, waltzes and polkas and even a line dance or two. I miss that very much.

I don't know seven people to tag...but I'll tag fish.

Sometimes, I can't even come up with a word that describes some of the asshats I work with.

Asshat seems to work fine for now.

Today was payday. Today, we also had 50 pizzas delivered for lunch. Imagine 127 hungry asshat boys, and 1 female office manager. Guess who got to do all the work?

Hi.

I don't mind about the work - I really don't. I don't mind that I had to pick up 50 pizzas and bring them into the plant and set up the room.

We hand out checks during lunch. Of course, I was running around like a crazy person during and after lunch, so I didn't get back to my desk until about 1:30. My boys delight in tattling on each other, so in a very short amount of time, I hear about a particular one of my boys who was whining in another office about his hours.

He was short his normal hours because he'd gone to an orientation class, and was only paid for the time the class lasted. He apparently told everyone in hearing range that if he'd have known that, he would have sat his happy ass in that office for an extra 45 minutes so he could get a full days pay.

Which wouldn't have worked anyway. But moving on.

Why is this boy an asshat?

Because this is what he does. If he has a complaint against me (which he's always WRONG ABOUT), he never comes to ME about it. I hear his bitching from other employees who gleefully come in and give me all the details. To my face, he never has the balls to confront me.

So I confronted him about it today. See, I'd known this would happen when this boy saw his check, I even warned his supervisor about it yesterday. Because he's an ASSHAT. *ahem*

So I waited until he came into the office, and I cheerfully asked if he had anything he wanted to discuss with me. He said no.

Sometimes...there just aren't words.

Sometimes I open up a page to write, because I can feel words bubbling to the surface...but the bubbles never pop. Or...they do, but they burn like boiling water, and I snatch my hand away and scowl at the page.

I'm not sure which it is right now. I feel like I have so much to say, but...maybe there's just too much, and like a crowded elevator, everyone's trying to get off at once and it creates a bottleneck.

I have a lot of fear in me about a lot of different subjects, I think. I've always had to tiptoe around fear and sort of approach it in smaller and smaller circles. Maybe I just haven't reached the smallest circle yet.

Something my girl wrote for me