Namaste, Bitches

Rob got me Hot Fuzz for my birfday! Squeee!!! Love me some Simon & Nick!

Someone from work found my blog. I'm severely annoyed. These people cannot seem to accept that I have two separate compartments in my life: Work and Not Work. This blog is Not Work. It is where I bitch about work, the people I work with, the company I work for, and the people who are paying me to work there, directly and indirectly. It is where I talk about things I want to do other than work. It is about places I'd rather work. It's about my sex life (yeah, not exactly private, I'm a shareful person, but not with my current coworkers), it's about my depression, it's about my ovaries and all the hopes, dreams and wishes that have been crushed on the rocks of life like snails dropped by swallows. This is where I get very drunk and type, two activities that should never be combined. Never mind naked pictures of me - this is pretty much my naked soul.

This guy also found my long-since-deleted myspace profile, which was once again in the Not Work compartment, but instead became full of all the people I work with. So much for my attempts to lure transvestites and transexuals into my bed.

Early this morning, Jody & Terry's dad passed away. He'd had numerous small strokes since mid-November. Everyone in their side of the family did get the opportunity to say good-bye. He had told the nurses he wanted to live past Christmas so he wouldn't ruin the holiday for his great-grandkids, and he made it.

A toast, to one of the greatest Hell-raisers this side of the Mississippi. There really aren't many old dudes like Larry in this world.

Other than that, I wish everyone a safe and healthy New Year.

"And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown."
- M. Louise Hastings

Birthdays around the holidays are the most horrible thing a parent can give a child. Fer Gods' sakes people, when you breed, try to choose a time of conception that will ensure the birth doesn't fall between Thanksgiving & January 2nd. I never had a birthday party. Ever. Hell, I was lucky to even get a birthday card when I was a kid. It always kind of got lumped in w/the adults' New Year's stuff.
(Let the whining commence) Of course, that hasn't changed. When I think of all the cards & e-mails I've sent to people over the past year remembering their special day, and I open my post office box to naught but bills, it irks me a little. I even called Jody at the butt-crack of dawn on her birthday so I could be the first to sing "Happy Smurfday to Ewe" off-key to her answering machine.
I mean, am I ungracious when I get a birthday card or present? Do I toss cards at others w/a flippant, "Oh yeah, today's yer birthday, in't it?" Do I not pitch in at work when others come around w/the card & collection envelope? I've baked 3 cakes & an apple pie, bought candles, arranged & plotted for my folks on graveyard... Maybe it wouldn't matter so much if it wasn't for the fact that I hit 30 today & I expected something more.
Yes, I am playing the world's smallest violin to the tune of "My Heart Bleeds Purple Porpoise Piss for Me".

The in-laws brought me soup yesterday, which considering how crappy I still feel, was very nice. (It had a peculiar entity known as a matzoh ball in it... I don't know exactly what it was, but it was insidious. I hated the texture, yet it was compelling to continue eating it...) I'm beginning to doubt flu & think more that it's a residual effect from being dehydrated & depleted by the Diovan. Stress test on Monday. Blegh.