I'm all for prettifying our money and making it easier for the vision-impaired to use, but green and purple? For reals? I mean, I love purple as much as the next girl, but our money is starting to look like it was designed by the board of a food co-op. Why does our currency have to look like eggplants?
(I think it's the high contrast number 5 on the back of the $5 bill that gets me.)
Thanks for letting me go work outside today in the unseasonably beautiful weather. Work may still be just another four-letter word, but it was nice to do it while sipping an Orange Crush and listening to a fountain* at a little outdoor coffee shop. It almost made me forget that we're all just workin' for The Man.
P.S. The fountain was one of those creepy nekkid cherubs peeing into a pool. I don't know if I'll ever understand the appeal of those...
The past couple of days have provided a weird mix of ups and downs.
On the one hand, my condo association are a bunch of a-holes (in addition to raising my fees, they informed me that my door is "in violation of community standards"; the previous owners painted it to match all the other doors in the community, when *obviously* it should have matched the windows)(of course, this is the first I've heard about any of it), my property taxes are going up 14%, and I'm soooooorrrre from all of the cycling I've been doing.
When you charge a large mandatory "special fee" every year, I really feel that you should not be allowed to tell my Realtor that association dues have not gone up in the past 7 years. This makes me very sad, and also very broke. I guess my globe trotting itch will have to wait until next year to be scratched.
It is not a good idea for you to stop to sun yourself on the particular path you took this morning. Aside from the foot and bicycle traffic, one of the local elementary schools takes that path to recess. I would hate to see you used by confused little boys to torment squealy little girls with pigtails. I moved you to a little more secluded spot, but please be careful.
I have enjoyed all of the time we've been spending together lately. My last bicycle never would have gotten me up to the top of all those crazybig hills. And that one turn that we took so very fast? Not in a million years.
However, I think we might need to spend a bit more time apart.
It's not you, it's me... Or rather, it's my leg muscles. While I can tell they're getting a lot stronger (thanks for that!) I'm starting to feel like I am developing some massive thunder thighs. I just think we should take things a bit more slowly.
At what point does distractibility become a liability? I'm thinking it's when you wrap your keys up with your lunch for oh, let's say the fourth time in three months, but this time, instead of putting them fairly harmlessly into the refrigerator, you throw the whole carefully wrapped package into a trash can. Bonus points if you don't realize that you've done this until after the restaurant has already closed for the day. Extra double bonus points if you walked to lunch and shouldn't have had your keys out in the first place, but wanted to play with the mood ring that you put on your keychain.
Oh well. It is nice to provide some comic relief for my friends and family.
You signed up for one of the triathlons I'm doing this year thinking (I'm sure) that you'll have an easy time beating me. After all, you did really well in the races you did last year, and I was just starting out.
If you hadn't been such a --INSERT four to five-letter-word HERE-- to work with, I might see the race as an opportunity for friendly competition between former coworkers. However, since you were a micromanaging jerk who consistently tried to get me in trouble with upper management, you'd better believe I plan to kick your butt to the curb.
I understand that different people have different definitions of what is acceptable, and maybe in some universes, taking the light plates and electrical plates off the wall before painting is just too much trouble. But painting over the outlets themselves? That's just kinda lazy.
Why, of all the possible places in the world for my psycho stalker crazy ex to find work, did he get a job here? We dated for around a year, but he followed my movements like a creepy (but somewhat incompetent) federal agent for five years after I broke up with him. I know I work for a big employer, Universe, and that it's a small world, but we didn't even work in the same industry.
Sigh. I thought he had gotten married and moved out of state, but he wasn't wearing a ring. He was definitely still giving off that I-wanna-know-your-every-move vibe. Could you please make sure we don't run into each other very often, Universe? I know you've got my back.
Please stop trying to make me care about preachers and imaginary bombs and red phones... In case you haven't heard, we have a little bit of a WAR going on, gas is a zillion dollars a barrel, and lots and lots of people are losing their homes.
Do you think we would get in trouble if I lined your walls with pink faux fur? I think it would be a lot of fun to feel like I'm working inside giant bunny slippers. Also, maybe management will finally decide it's time to allow me to telecommute.
Please stop it with the siren song-singing while I'm trying to work. Yes, you can provide me with all sorts of information, like where to find variations of Rock, Paper, Scissors. However, my job requires me to be at least marginally productive, and I enjoy getting a paycheck too much to tempt the firing gods right now. So please, if you can help it, stop being so darn seductive.