*rubs forehead and drinks more coffee*

Always good to go back to work with a hangover. Especially when one of your co-workers has a hacking cough and sounds like a horse at a trough while sipping her Day-Quil.

*sighs*

Life isn’t too great. Not bad, like someone died in a car wreck bad. Just not great. Contemplation is not such a good thing sometimes. Contemplation with narcotics and heavy consumption of alcohol is just silly. But, I did it.

Spurred by a particularly bad call with my Dad the day after Christmas (hey, he waited one whole day before throwing the good stuff on me), I’ve been nursing a healthy sense of depression. With dashes of just pure sadness.

It’s hard to take a cold look at your life and realize all the things that are coming up missing… or went missing when you weren’t looking. How many people just fade out of your life for whatever reason and now there is a little hole with nothing to fill it. I’m one of those people who can be alone and be fine with it, so I tend to just pull into myself and not look around. It might help to do that sometimes because people can just walk away and I never even notice.

*blah*

I can’t even string together decent sentences today. Not that it matters as this blog is just a small blip that garners little attention. Perhaps it’s time to shut it down and move on.

On to what, I have no idea. Nova Scotia sounds like a good. I always like the way the words sounded in that name.

*quietly bimbles off*

Referred to Rachael Ray as “Miss Titter McHighbeams”.

Oh, fuck yeah.

*bimbles off*

There’s a certain fun irony about a man who has worked in the wireless communications business for nearly ten years dropping his cell phone in the cats’ water dish.

At least, to me.

JS didn’t find it even slightly amusing when his phone went for a swim this weekend. Nope. Not funny at all. Quite frankly, I’ve never seen a man that size move so fast. It was all blurred movement and a streak of profane language so bad bits of paper were catching on fire. It was truly someting to behold for a few minutes.

I managed to bite my tongue until he got the whole phone disassembled (I didn’t actually see this… it was a bit like trying to watch a hummingbird’s wings as they fly) and was standing there mumbling to himself.

JS: “God, who drops their phone like that?”
ME: “Well, you thought it was pretty funny when Stephen dropped his phone in the toilet.”
JS: *slowly turns his head* “Aaaaaaand?”
ME: “I’m just saying, you know… um… it was funny that he did it and now you’re… um… dropped…. the phone…..”
JS: *staring*
ME: “Well, how about I just leave you alone? Looks like you’re busy.”
JS: “Excellent idea.”

Yeah, it’s all funny until the big guy’s phone goes for a swim. Then, it’s just best to leave the house. Possibly the county.

Seriously.

*bimbles off*

All the visions of turning my tree into a tribute to lovely snowflakes and crystal… whatevers… have been dashed as my computer monitor blew a fuse a couple of nights ago and decided to blink constantly.

Sadly, it’s not longer under warranty, so I have to find another monitor soon. My old CRT, which by a stroke of luck I never got rid of, works but it almost hurts my eyes after having a flat screen for so long.

So, the cash will be spent at the computer store and not on snowflakes.

ARGH!

*bimbles off*

I haven’t written anything on President-elect Obama’s administration choices because, though I wish there were more of a movement toward liberal-minded individuals, I reserve judgment until the man is actually in office – when he and his administration start making decisions that affect this country.

However, I am sorely disappointed in his choice for the invocation at the presidential inauguration. While the atheist in me would prefer no prayer or religious ceremony at all, I fully respect Obama’s right to his beliefs and understand an invocation is a religious tradition practiced by many.

But, to chose a man who opposes gay marriage and is pro-life is totally at odds with the composition of the Democratic Party – the very people who put Obama in the position of president-elect. I understand Obama is a politician and this choice is a nod to Rick Warren’s immense religious influence in this country. However, to choose an individual whose personal beliefs stand in total opposition to the people you owe your presidency to is a step in the wrong direction, not to mention a stinging slap in the face to gay and women’s advocates.

I simply do not see how you can run a campaign of inclusion, say you support women’s and gay rights, then choose a man who has said the following:

Warren, who has made it a practice not to endorse candidates or political parties, wrote in October that the issue of gay marriage is not a political issue, but instead “a moral issue that God has spoken clearly about.”

“For 5,000 years, every culture and every religion — not just Christianity — has defined marriage as a contract between men and women,” Warren wrote in a newsletter to his congregation. “There is no reason to change the universal, historical definition of marriage to appease 2 percent of our population.”

…..

In his recent interview with Beliefnet, Warren also sparked outrage among supporters of abortion rights for criticizing those who have said abortion would be “safe and rare.”

“Don’t tell me it should be rare,” he said in the interview. “That’s like saying on the Holocaust, ‘Well, maybe we could save 20 percent of the Jewish people in Poland and Germany and get them out and we should be satisfied with that — I’m not satisfied with that. I want the Holocaust ended.”

These are not inclusion, loving statements. They reveal the underlying bigotry that is inherent in religion as a whole as well as the concept that women are inferior human beings incapable of making sound medical decisions.

I don’t begrudge Obama his personal beliefs with regard to faith, however, he should look to those religious leaders – however few they may be – that preach inclusion for all citizens, not just a few, especially when choosing individuals for high profile events and programs.

Because those of us who helped you into the White House can help you right back out.

*bimbles off*

In addition to feeding KN’s underage son liquor this weekend, I got to see the magnificent Stinkerbelle (Army of Mom’s youngest child) in her ballet debut in “The Nutcracker” on Sunday. She’s such a cutie and was the best Baby Buffoon EVAH! BRAVO!

*pause*

No, I still don’t want any. Thanks for asking.

*bimbles off*

Many, many moons ago, I got all froggy with my Dad regarding a certain jug of wine sitting in the pantry. My Mom had made it and I was dying to taste it. Dying as in asking about it and insisting…. INSISTING…. it would not affect me. I was 14. Instead of just telling me to shut my mouth about it, Dad employed a method that shall be described below…. as it happened in my best friend KN’s kitchen this past Saturday night when her 14-year-old son decided to get all… froggy.

I had just finished pouring Stephen’s Coke into a glass and handed it to him. He said “Are you SURE this isn’t Mom’s drink?” and took a sip of his drink. He then scritched up his nose, made smacking noises and said “I think you switched them.” To which KN answered, “Son, you’d know if was my drink.”

And, as dogs howled, the moon went dark and young maidens wept, Stephen said, “Yeah, I’d know if it was whisky.”

ME: “Oh, you’ve had whisky before?”
STEPHEN: “Well, no, but I know it wouldn’t be bad. I mean, whatever.” *starts to saunder out of the room*
ME: *pounds on the bar twice, my ring making a noise so loud the dog jumped and Stephen jerked around* “ALRIGHTY then! The boy knows his drinks. Then, let’s belly up to the bar, son, and we’ll all have a shot.”
STEPHEN: *glances at his Mom, which was as much help as drowning man asking for help from a shark* “Umm….”
ME: “Newp, time to put up or shut up. If you’re man enough, let’s do this.”

Stephen inches back to the bar next to JS as KN pours exactly, WITHOUT MEASURING, a perfect shot of tequila. (Everyone can just shut up. It was good tequila.) Did I mention she was a professional bartender at one time?

STEPHEN: “What if that’s not the right amount? It looks like a lot.”
JS: “Um, Stephen… maybe you should just….”
KATHY: “Wanna test me? Get a measuring cup.”

It was an exact ounce. The boy was in so much trouble. We stood and waited for all our shots. Stephen had gotten very quiet. And, very pale.

KN: *raised her glass in the air* “Salute!”

We all drained our glasses, slammed them twice on the bar, then turned to look at Stephen, who had not moved.

ME: “What are you waiting on? Drink it.”

Stephen then makes the timeless mistake of all first-time drinkers: he sniffs the tequila. I thought the boy was going to pass out from the fumes alone. He blinked and then looked at all of us. Only JS offered any hope.

JS: “It’s best not to smell it. Just drink it. All in one gulp, like taking medicine.”

To his credit, the kid drank it. All. Put his glass down, wiped his mouth and stood there, his eyes growing to owlish proportions.

KN: “So, how was it? Feel like you’ve accomplished something now?”
STEPHEN: *slightly choked voice* “It wasn’t that bad.”
KN: “Perhaps you’d like some more, then?”
STEPHEN: “I think I’ll just sit down and check my e-mail.”
KN: “Well, just come back over when you want some more.”

Stephen sat down and was quiet for a long time. I chalk it up the fact that his insides were on fire, but he couldn’t run around house screaming about it. We all smiled, but left him alone. He did swallow the shot and took it well.

I called my Dad yesterday and relayed the story. He laughed so hard he dropped the phone. Then, he said, “Well, what do you think?” To which I replied “I think we’ve cured him of tequila for a couple of years.”

The DP Method. A classic.

*bimbles off*

So, yeah…. *ahem*…. *cough*.…. I might have purchased a new video game last night.

*pause*

Maybe.

*longer pause*

It might be called Warhammer Online: The Age of Reckoning. And, I might have created a seriously hot bad ass Witch Elf.

*pushes dirt around with toe*

Maybe.

*big sigh*

Okay, fine. I did it. I bought another game. I’m a big ol’ dork. And everyone can stop laughing because I’m not alone as an adult gamer. Actually, I’m in the majority. So, HA!!!!! Cheetos-eating, sexually-frustrated 14-year-old boys gaming in their parents’ basement and whining about loser newbs ZOMG! be damned. Grown-ups with jobs and kids and who can string together actual sentences are KICKING YOUR ASSES. LRN2PLY! Kthxbai.

*stops and looks around*

But, I can neither confirm nor deny these reports, of course.

*bimbles off*

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