Tuesday, January 13, 2009
There really is no excuse, none, and neither should there be. I do not do what should be done but who says I should do it, and when, & why, & where, you? Pshaw. That’s not un akin to pippi longstocking telling tommy and annika to go lift the treasure chest to the parrot’s secret enclave. Wait, it’s akin to that. Dammit. Why does that crazy bitch think she has the right, just cuz she’s Norwegian? Fuck that.
I just noticed a rainbow mug on my desk that my eyes probably pass over like 80,000 times a day and I suddenly don’t ever remember seeing it. I’m curious if someone came in here during lunch and with precision like accuracy and special immediate aging paint put that rainbow on what used to be a basic white mug. It’s really the only explanation. What kind of sick demented fucks go into an innocent person’s office and paint mugs and then move them around, are they just trying to totally dissipate the last smidgeon of sanity that I’m clinging to like a beach ball at a wave park with seagulls trying to aim dookies on unsuspecting suspects? It’s possibly that real/unreal.
Bill Burr is funny. Nickelback makes good songs, even though that guy looks like someone you’d want to punch in the face for punching that lady in the face, who didn’t deserve it but he thinks she did because she gave him attitude at the checkout line. Dilbert can and will hang. Guido eats fishes.
I have to remember to invoice Keith. It’s written very emphatically in my yellow cheap pathetic paper notebook. But I already did, it’s checked off, yet here it is staring at me in a manner which belies its doneness. Maybe it’s saying I need to pay my own bill, tithe the tither, so to speak. The whaler tithe, people have paid and what has begone is quite possibly bygones, so I won’t speak much further, if at all (no), on that.
I had a jack in the box Mexican fiesta salad (it’s not really called that) for lunch while reading fear loathing Vegas for the umpteenth time. And this girl came by with pumpkin shake shots. I had one. I was trying to figure out why just because someone is giving out samples they have to wear an apron. Is that some kind of rule passed down from the sample committee? I didn't see any other aprons anywhere. And it wasn't just a white apron or black apron, it had this whole flowery jigsawish design on it like something grandma kettle would wear in her mississippi kitchen just dripping with so much history that her grandkids had to buy her a new apron at walmart and she wears it because she genuinely cares for them and want them to be aware of her gratitude.
My daughter is all done with her chemotherapy regimen. I’m almost afraid to write it, but I just did. She’s doing great. She’s getting peachfuzz on her head. I love her so much there are no other words for it except love, and that just doesn’t do it justice. Tomorrow they’ll do a bone marrow and give us the word on what things are looking like. If all is clear after that and some further blood analysis, her central line will come out a few weeks after that. It blows me away that after the last 6 months, we could actually be through the woods on this thing. I bank on nothing, yet hope for everything. How can such a little kid be so strong? Must be that amazing mother of hers. Her dad does ok as well, I suppose. Hope all is well for all of you.