Dec 19 2006

Not posting…blah-di-blah-blah…

I have no new pictures, no new good stories. Over the weekend I missed 1) A lap dance performed in front of the dancer’s mother (but not in her lap, thank goodness) and 2) A very akward, old stripper in a black leather utility kilt. So there were good stories out the window because I was actually trying to get some damn sleep for once. What a waste.

Cole also narrowly avoided burning the ever-loving crap out of his hand. My father was quick enough to yank him back as he was millimeters away from climbing on the wood stove. He got a mean bump on his knee from the brick, but I’ll take that over burns any day. We actually thought he had touched it for a few minutes because he was wailing, but, after running his hand under cold water for a bit and not seeing any marks, just cold, cold little fingies, we realized that the crying was from the knee and being scared by being jerked back by his collar. I was very calm through it all, but he had to bear an over-long, probably too hard hug from me when it was all over. Poor kid.

And work. I blame not posting on work. Isn’t it supposed to be quiet around this time of the year? What gives? I should be able to just sit here and do my damn Christmas shopping while drinking tea and trying not to get sick again. What’s with all the demands on my time? “Danielle, edit this.” “Danielle, make 10 billion copies of this.” “Danielle, set up this project code.” You’d think they paid me or something…

And, to top it off, the utterly incompetent receptionist was fired last week, so I’m on phone back-up a LOT more often. I hate phones.

I can’t wait for my two three-day weekends in a row. It’s not enough, but it’s something.

My life, people. It’s just such a trial. I don’t know how I go on, really. I think you should all send me presents/money/egg nog-with-whiskey to ease my pain.

C’mon. I’m not seeing the whiskey yet. Hurry.