There are no bad owners, only bad dogs


Does this thing have a fast-forward button?

From the desk of the purple-eyed freak:

So, yesterday, I didn't tell the truth to anyone at work about my "accident" because I didn't think there would be any sympathy, but I had to tell them something, so I came up with the world's lamest excuse: I slipped in the shower. I know! It's pathetic! The only other thing I could think of was that I walked into a door. Gah. How does slipping in the shower explain the lack of skin on my hands? Umm, er, uh, I burnt it off with the iron in a separate incident. But if I had told the truth, that being that I'd stayed out late drinking the night before and had tripped on nothing because the busses weren't running anymore and I had to pee really, really, really bad, so I had to run the last two blocks and it was a long walk home, then I would have gotten the whole "You did it to yourself" vibe, and while I may have done it to myself, it still hurts like hell. So I figured a morning injury would be more acceptable, but then I had to deal with the tech guys asking me what the hell I was doing in the shower that could have given me two black eyes. I told them that while the European-style shower head is for the ladies, and they'd just have to believe that I wasn't actually masturbating at the time. I'll just tell them the truth next week when the Red Queen is gone on her ski holiday. Hope she breaks her hip.

By the way, speaking of that horrible, bitchy, cunty woman, we were in a rather casual meeting this morning talking about things with project managers and techy guys, and she was telling us all what we should be doing next week when she's gone (shitting in your desk drawers? spitting in your coffee cup? putting boogers on your phone?) and blah blah so as a recap, I said, "So next week we need to come up with a laundry list of tasks and assign them to individuals" and she looked at me like I had just suggested ass raping a small child and said (and I quote) "Laundry list? I always refer to it as a shopping list. But then, you're a crude Texan." TechDik came to my rescue, as I was unable to speak with my jaw on the floor, and said "Let's not forget my big dirty knickers" and ha ha everyone laughed. What a twat I've had to deal with! I really, really, really wish I could find a "Fuck Y'all, I'm from Texas" shirt before I leave, but all I could find on the site that Andy suggested was one that said "Fuck All Y'all" which is still good, but I want to make it more personal. And "Aw Jeez, I'm from Wisconsin, eh?" doesn't have the tone I'm looking for.

One more detail about "that night" that I didn't mention yesterday is that one of the tech guys, the one I know the least well, kept hitting on me at the end of the night, which was really very comical from my point of view. Why comical? To call him unattractive would be, well, caring and sensitive. I could put his picture up here (it's on the company intranet), but I always live in fear of being dooced. I don't know if laughing at him was the right thing to do or not, but I don't really care. Whatever does the job.

Only 10 days til Katy and Buster! I just can't wait to see them! I'm really curious about how Katy will treat me when I get back -- whether she'll be too happy to remember to be mad, or whether she'll just be mostly mad. I'm pretty sure Buster will just think that I left home 6 hours ago, seeing as his thought processes can only handle "I like walks!" and "I like sticks!" and "I like to sniff the lady up the street!" Beyond that, he's pretty much a blank slate. Time is dragging!

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