A Quick Post About Nothing

I should write about something.

I could, I suppose, write about the surprising failure of the mortgage bailout and what it means for our economy. Other people are already doing that, though. I can't really add anything to the hue and cry that hasn't already been said. Spending my days around shallow thinking armchair pseudo economist fucktards has pretty much sapped my desire to consider the matter further at this time. Suffice it to say that I'm not surprised it didn't pass. At this point, frankly, I'm really fucking hard to surprise.

I could write something happy; I could write about the wedding. It was a beautiful, wonderful day that was more fantastic than I could have hoped or had any right to wish for. At the same time, though. Wow. Those were some of the craziest, busiest, most exhausting and wonderful days ever. Frankly, just thinking about writing it all out exhausts me anew. I will get there eventually. Or I won't. Unless an editor wants to contact me and offer me money for my take on things, folks is just gonna have to wait.

I suppose I could talk more about my job. Let's see. I'm now up to 4 forms and 2 audits per each file, plus all the work that has to be done so I can complete all 4 forms and get to both audits. The fact is this, I've died and fucking gone to Office Space. I'm trying to embrace the notion that the universe is trying to shape me using the blunt skulls of my co-workers. Of course, what the universe is really doing is making me drink more and eat a lot of ice cream.

Meh. I'm in the doldrums, I think. Sort of this in-between place while I try to figure out what happens next. I guess I'll know what it crashes through the roof or bursts into flames in my driveway.

Morning Surprise

I woke up late this morning with a Benadryl hangover. All fuzzy-headed and drowsy, I walked into the kitchen . . .

Huh. What the hell is that in the water dish?

Huh. What the hell is that by the water bowl?

Huh. What the hell is thOH MY GOD WHO IS BLEEDING?

Pug check. Jack check. Bennet--was in her kennel all evening so unlikely but check her anyway. Sammi cat? Where are you, kitty? Ack!

She seems fine, now. Her rumpled-y ear is all swollen, and yes, bloody. However, she's been purring and cuddling and basically being herself. We'll be gong to the vet in just about an hour; I expect we might get a cat lampshade out of the deal. She's napping comfortable on The Boy.

Holy shit, though. Fucking 5 plus feet of blood spatter in the morning before coffee? REALLY? Is this entirely necessary?

Spin FAIL

I have apparently gone retarded because it just took me 8 or 9 tries to log into Blogger. Frankly, going retarded will probably make much of my life easier--work especially.

Seriously, though, I'm guessing it's because everyone in the whole damn world is online talking smack about Sarah Palin. And why wouldn't they?

I have not watched the entire Katie Couric interview. I quite probably won't. You know? Because if you're going to be that fucking stupid at me, you're going to have to cut me a check. I don't suffer that amount of foolishness for free. I did catch the minute or so where she talked about how because she's governor of Alaska, and because Alaska shares a "maritime border" (that's the Bering Strait, to you and I) and land border with Canada, that she has foreign policy experience. By that logic, the meth lab up the block makes me a motherfucking chemical engineer.

She sounded so ridiculous I would have felt sorry for her except for, you know, bitch should fight her weight. For example, if I knew I was going to be campaigning for THE VICE PRESIDENCY OF THE UNITED STATES, I would at least pull an all-nighter and come up with a better line of crap. I mean, shit, I can't respect someone too stupid use spin effectively.

Part of being a leader is the ability to shine a turd. Epic fucking fail.

So, Palin made me sad.

This makes me happy, though. Deep, happy, belly laughs.