Caterwauling

*updated*

Finally, an OutKast video that doesn’t annoy me (other than the music): Hey Ya, Charlie Brown. (via Tiff)

Forget that prissy bitch “Dear Abby,” who has one foot in reality and her head up her ass. Jane answers Dear Abby’s mail. (Note: you’ll need to register to view this. Thank the fucktards of the troll underworld for this.)

Bill offers to read my novel before it’s published. Being that he is responsible for this website finally working correctly, I know he’s a great editor. And don’t worry Ted, you’re on the distribution list, too. 🙂

It’s male PMS time over at Random Thoughts.

John posts the magnet that I have on my fridge. She’s almost as cute as Roxette Bunny!

Sounds like Tricia’s colleagues went to the same school of mismanagement as mine did.

Erica posts a link to a Backstreet Boys parody, I Want a Fat Babe. Personal aside, I had an ex send me that link (was he trying to tell me something?), and the only reason I wasn’t offended was because he had a big belly covering his wittle pee-pee.

Over at Up Yours, Dawn’s doctor says she can finally have sex again, now that her new little bundle of joy has been out in the real world for a few weeks. Lady, find some time and have at it!!!

So it ain’t the blogosphere, but real life:

Quote of the day: “I’d rather douche with gasoline, and light my fart.” — by the always-eloquent Shawn. This totally trumps my personal expression for trying to convey that I don’t want to do something, which is, “I’d rather masturbate with a chainsaw.”

And one last thing. …

See you there!!!

UPDATE

Everybody give a warm Caterwauling welcome to Chuck, who was Visitor Number 306,306!!!

It goes on and on my friends. …

(Sing along, damn it!)

OK, just got off the phone with the print shop (12:07 a.m.). I think we have finally, finally resolved all the issues that cropped up to make this the craziest week ever.

And today’s joy started with a call from said print shop around 9 a.m., as I was in a fucking coma from last night (I was too wired to get to sleep until 2:30 a.m. or so). So I had to drag my butt into the office to fix some shit and to resolve a handful of problems (or, rather, attempt to resolve ’em). I was immediately accosted by the Popcorn Bandit, who had to visit the candy jar in Angie’s office, where I was fighting with our Quark document from hell (that document wasn’t behaving well on my own computer and not too much better on hers). I had NO patience whatsoever — why the fuck don’t people notice my “Emergencies Only” sign?!?!

A few minutes ago, I had to fix a problem of my own making, what with asking the printer to shoot an ad from our January issue when I should have realized that I needed to shoot it from the December issue instead. *growl* At least, though, the thought occurred to me before pre-press staff left (at midnight!) for the weekend. *whew* I have notes written from my elbow to my fingertips (couldn’t find paper — fuck it all anyway). I hope this shit washes off!

I was actually in the midst of writing some crappy poetry when tonight’s fun festival went down. I hope the muse returns and maybe helps me to improve upon the verbal diarrhea that I’ve already dumped into my Word doc. 🙂

In any event, I was trying to be alcohol-free this evening, but look over there in the kitchen — there’s a big vat of Chardonnay with my name on it. … *clink* To the end of another workweek! Woo hoo!!!