Mandalay Bay’s beach in Las Vegas. Where sitting in 98-degree dry heat felt a lot cooler than 70 degrees in the dog-breath humidity of D.C.
I wasn’t there long, as I only had a couple hours before my (thankfully late) checkout time. But yeah, all my distaste for Vegas melted away as I sat with my toes in the wave pool and contemplated absolutely nothing because I was happy to be who and where I was.
A million more photos to upload from my last trip, but this is one of my favorites.
Note to applicants: If you’re going to lie on your resume — like, say, fudging employment dates (or establishments) — be careful when mass-blasting your rez to prospective hiring managers.
In particular, don’t claim you (still) work at Company A when you might just have its sister company in your broadcast rotation. Because if Company B likes your resume and goes into the universal address book and doesn’t see you there (when, according to you, they SHOULD), well, try not to wonder why they don’t give ya a call.
Just sayin’.
A friend and I were having one of those wildly inappropriate discussions (which, if you’ve met me in person, you’ve probably experienced it, too) in which we declared that “tops need not apply” for something or other. And I was thinking, perhaps that’s a great title for a dating service ad? 😉
Taking a “vacation” day today since I’m losing the hours anyway and taking a day will at least buy me some time to set up a real getaway. By vacation, I’m still watching e-mail, which is fine because I don’t have to put on pantyhose and heels because I’m staying home.
I was even thinking about cleaning, but nowhere in my six rooms can I find my vacuum cleaner. Oh well — more time for TV! (La-la-la, I can’t hear you, laundry!)
Speaking of laundry, it expands from one end of my spare bedroom to the other. I had thought having a W/D would save me from that headache, but no — I just don’t feel like washing shit at 10 p.m. when I get home with the fast food du jour.
Fast food — ugh. I had fries at 10 p.m. Sunday night from Wendy’s, 10 p.m. Monday night from Mickey D’s, 9:30 p.m. from Chick-Fil-A and 10 p.m. from Mickey D’s again last night. Is there any question why “in shape” for me translates to oblong? *bonk*
Oh, and on the domesticity front? The. Cat. Shat. Up. The. Wall.
Along with my fast food timeline, Sunday I came home to cat crap on the carpet inside the front door — one foot from the litterbox. Sunday morning Saturday night, I came home to cat crap inside the front door, where the “powder” (er, secondary) litterbox used to be (but I’d removed it ’cause it was foul). Friday I had come in to cat crap outside the box because it was foul.
Anyway, moving forward, it was simply shit streaks all week, but those were at least on the carpet. Last night I could smell the unmistakable stench of cat ass and couldn’t even sleep, it was so bad. But where was the shit? I could not see it on the carpet, so I figured I’d wait till it was light to find out.
Yep, at 6 a.m. I saw the Maddie had shat up the dining room wall. Walls, actually, as Pooh Corner is in, well, a corner. Whee.
Remind me again why I love being me? I’m havin’ a REAL hard time with it today.
