Caterwauling

And no, it’s not that I’m wearing scandalous underwear. I always wear those. Makes ya feel all happy inside when you’ve got X-rated guchies on under your work clothes. 😉

In any event, Angie and I have been dutifully avoiding work (like the rest of our colleagues) pretty successfully today (although my revised budget is due within the hour), but I was telling her about guys I’ve dated who own dogs when it dawned on us that we could help heterosexual women everywhere with a revelation we uncovered.

Let’s face it — we like guys with dogs because it makes the guys look responsible and nurturing and perfectly able to provide care to another creature. Plus, they look so damn cute at the dog park (the men, not always the dogs!) playing with Scruffy or Hunter or whatever they’ve named the lil darling. We think we’ve died and gone to heaven to see them playing together. We think they’ll play cute with our kids when we have them — that they’re already doting dads who will provide us with lots of affection and loyalty.

But rewind a minute — I dated a guy (very briefly) who had a dog. As in, “I’d stay the night but I’ve got to go let the four-pawed wonder out to pee. So let’s just fuck and I can leave afterward.” Now, for those of you who know me, you know it doesn’t break my heart in the least to have the bed to myself. But Angie declared how ingenious it is to own a dog — you always have a reason to leave. And not to limit it to men, ’cause girls do this shady shit too, but it’s so convenient to not have to make up excuses when you want to head for the hills — what girl WOULDN’T understand that the pet needs its owner more than you need said owner?

Now, I don’t mean to dog men in general. In fact, there are some chivalrous types who know how to treat a lady right (to the point of astounding us that people still do that sweet stuff like getting your coat and helping you out of a car and all those other wonderful things that the sexual revolution massacred). Sad to say that I’ve been with women who are oftentime more kind and considerate in these respects than their male counterparts. In any event, it was refreshing to, for once, not be the one wearin’ the pants during the outing. 🙂

Anyway, Angie asked that we make the “beware of men who own dogs” mantra available to anyone who’s interested. Sure, they may love and adore the lil mutts, but that doesn’t mean they are going to buy you pretty collars and feed you gourmet food. Nor does it mean you have to sniff their butts and lick their balls and admire their bones. 😉

Go for men with cats. If they love pussy, there’s no reason not to love THEM!

Angie and I had a small discussion today about sex (I had told her about getting laid about Thanksgiving two years ago, and even though it wasn’t all that good, at least I got my bird stuffed. She liked my terminology!).

Well, I said it’s been almost a year since I *got me some* and she reeled back in horror. She was so sympathetic and so very sad for me. I told her she wouldn’t have been so bummed if I’d, say, lost a finger or some other appendange, would she? And she said sex was too important to live without and that I need to get me some soon!

No arguments here. None whatsoever! Can I get a witness? 🙂

Raspberries to the Wal-Mart customer who tried to cash a million-dollar bill for a small purchase so she could get change. Dumbass.

Someone I used to know sells million- and billion-dollar bills. They’re realistic but nobody in their right mind would mistake them as authentic. Not even your average unwashed, inbred Wal-Mart employee, apparently. I have to give Wallyworld some credit for actually hiring a competent employee for a change!

Oh, I LOVE this bumper sticker!

Subtitle: Giving himself enough rope with which to ‘Hung’ himself

Big Willy Hung has titled his forthcoming album “The True Idol” — ironic given what a fucking joke he is. And who wants to hear him sing? Really? I mean, he should just get a video deal — that’s what we loved most about this blathering miscreant. It’s just a real shame when there are talented people out there gettin’ the shaft from Simon who really DO have a gift to give the world that isn’t like an envelope from the Unabomber.

(Link via Shawn.)

Why god WHY does everything at work require further discussion? I swear, we hold meetings simply for the sake of scheduling more meetings! I just got some paperwork back, along with a note telling me that this was not the proper channel to follow and all I had to do was send an e-mail. I have sent 9 e-mails with no action, so I formalized the fucking process. God motherfucking DAMN it do I HATE depending on other people!!!!!!!!!!

I’ve been up since 4 a.m. Don’t cross me today — I’m not a pleasant sight. I got up early yesterday and I guess it just kicked in again, only without the help of the alarm. Bah. Only one meeting today (I hope) — I hate Tuesdays. At some point this month, I would like to do my job instead of talking about it. I mean, jeez, I spend so much time preparing for, and recovering from, meetings (not to mention the time wasted in them!) that I told my boss I could produce a 300-page newspaper every month with the time I could have saved.

I’ve started keeping a private journal again — it’s nice to be away from the computer. Nothing compares to seeing blue ink in my crappy handwriting in my holographic blue spiral notebook with the silver stars on it. That way, I get to keep most of the madness to myself and not have y’all think I’m as crazy as I really am.

The “American Idol” Wild Card show is on tonight. Woo hoo! My annual tradition is to run a nice hot foot bath and chain-smoke and watch what is usually the besst round in the semi-finals. It’s the little things, ya know?

No, I’m not referring to the 150 pairs in my bedroom, but I was on I-395 this morning, and traffic was backed up for miles because there were tons of shoes scattered throughout the three right-hand lanes. Apparently a truck dumped a whole shitload of them in the highway right before I started out. They were kids’ sizes mostly, but if I’d seen a cute pair, there was more than enough bottleneck for me to get out of the car and grab a pair!

Spent the day at a print/design seminar in McLean. I realized what a sore loser I am — there was a drawing for a new Mac G5 (sexy!) and the new Adobe Creative Suite. I lost at both, of course, but I was bitter ’cause a huge newspaper shop got the Mac and my print company got the software and didn’t even know if they should take the Mac or Windows version. Argh! I keep begging my company to, if not buy us new computers, at least upgrade the pieces of shit we currently must suffer with. But of course, I found out that even though I am going to finish my budget year at least five to ten grand below what I budgeted (I made extra cuts and am suffering because of it), I don’t get to keep that money. Not a penny of it. We have to cover other people who don’t know how to stay on (or anywhere near) budget.

In one of my eleven meetings last week, I found out that our slew of furlough days (all of which I worked through, by the way. Unpaid, of course) was proactive, as they bragged. These were scheduled in anticipation of some people (our ridiculous president, for a prime example) blowing their budgets. Gee fuckin’ thanks.

You know what — it’s good I didn’t win the computer. I couldn’t see myself doing anything else with it but taking it home and enjoying it here.

I heard the company wants to finally force one of its more useless employees to leave. This will include an undisclosed amount of money (roughly the equivalent of my salary) as a kind of thanks-for-everything-now-scram bonus. Let’s just say that this is the equivalent of four furlough days. And we wonder why I’m bitter!

Other than that, work has been going really well. Although it kind of sucks when I have great off-site meetings like the one today, because they remind me how bad things really are, and it will take me at least four days to forget what life is like outside the castle. Cinderella will go back to her rags and chimney-cleaning, and the rest of the world has great computers and updated software to make their jobs oh so much easier.

Bah.

I’ve been trying to eat more healthily this year, but a box of Godiva truffles Mom gave me last week kinda killed that — I can’t have just one. I must consume the whole box. Mmm, truffles. Although Tiff does remind me that people who are on the South Beach Diet may have chocolate. So, like, that’s not cheating, then, right?

I haven’t lost any weight since I went to Pittsburgh more than a week ago, but I haven’t gained any, either. For me, the latter is just as much of an accomplishment as the former.

Shawn and I had a healthy and happy lunch of salads at Panera yesterday, and afterward, Tiff came over for a visit before we went riding in Gustav, her way-cool new green Bug. We decided to round out our day with sweet potato fries with gorgonzola at Capitol City Brewing Company. And of course, who can pass up the hot, soft pretzels they serve all customers, which come with a lovely side of ground mustard/sour cream/horseradish dip? Oh, and hell, since we were there, we ordered dinner. One thing I love about Capitol City (aside from the pretzel dip, the sweet potato fries and the awesome warm chipotle BBQ sauce that comes with the fries, of course!), is that you can order a sandwich and say, “Atkins it!” and you’ll get a salad instead of fries and they’ll hold the bread. Woo hoo! I think I have officially found a new favorite restaurant — thanks Tiff! 🙂

I tried ordering a low-carb wrap at Ruby Tuesday the other day. You can get the salad bar as your side dish, so I did that. And what did those evil bastards do but deliver the wrap with a pile of their delicious peppery french fries? I did succumb to having a handful of them. Damn it.

I’m slowly plowing through the South Beach book. It’s almost hard to believe, from my standpoint as a die-hard Atkins conoisseur, that you can have so much stuff on that diet. I mean, sweet potato fries? Chocolate? Bread (albeit whole grain)? Tiramisu?!?! Damn. The only problem I have with South Beach, at this point, is its push to eat low-fat cheese. Nuh uh. Forget that crap — I eat cheese like it’s going out of style, and I like me my fatty cheese. But to have chocolate, maybe I can acquiesce.

I have so much crap in my house, but once in awhile I come across something interesting. Today I found an old vibrator that you fill with water — hot or cold, depending on the sensation you’re seeking. Wow! I can’t believe I forgot I owned this treasure! I popped in some fresh batteries and had myself a happy morning.

Do you ever find yourself being so horny that you could just explode?