yours and mine -- procrastination rules!



the celebration of my birth went well. i had fun and noone else seemed totally bored. we forgot to total all the minigolf scores, so i only know how it shaped up for the 5 of us on the card i have. mac and vb tied for winning with 58, then sharon at 65, me at 74, and mb got 75. despite the fact that i almost lost, i did hit the winning spot on the 19th hole so i get to play free next time we go. i'm actually pretty good at that, since hitting the ball way too hard seems to be a good thing for once on that hole.

i got lots of good gifts. i got some books, the shirt i wanted, a button, cash, pineapple candy, a planted pineapple that i hope survives (i'm not so good at remembering to water things that don't come whining when they're thirsty), and a real concrete gnome.

i also want to say that it was proof that being an adult isn't like i thought it would be, but not in a bad way. who knew that at 25 i'd still enjoy a nice retro-campy minigolf game with all my friends.



today at work...

or, they don't pay me enough to ever do that again.

so, today on my worklist (a list of things you're supposed to do that day, unless someone else takes it on themselves to do it, or the mod has you too busy getting other things accomplished) i was supposed to empty the outside trash can. this doesn't sound too bad, right? wrong! i really only had one issue with it, that issue had a few parts though. what was my issue? SMELL!!!!!!!

i knew before i started that some kind soul had sat a couple of those styrofoam boxes you get your leftover in on top of the can (because they're bigger than the hole in the top). i did not know until i picked them up and felt their weight that they had included the food itself in the offering. this action also seemed to have unleashed their scent. from what i smelled i'm guessing it was barbecue, but i'm betting it had been in our lovely southern indiana august weather for a number of hours. foul would be a good word choice, but alas, that was merely the tip of the iceberg for my nasal abuse.

now, i never enjoy a leaky trash bag, particularly when my task is to take it from outside the front of a store all the way to the back door and out to the dumpster. but with my cunning use of industrial paper towels and a plastic bag slipped over the offending corner, i wouldn't really have had a problem. oh, except for the fact that the mostly clear liquid running like a stream from this particular bag was one of the most offensive odors i have ever encounter in my life. this stench smelled like rotten meat, spoiled milk, and used diapers all together, and left in the sun for a while. how customers didn't run away as i wheeled my cart of funk as rapidly as possible through the store i will never know.

needless to say, i was sickened by it, and have remained so for the last 8.5 hours. which sucks because my mom went to the effort of getting me some really good fried chicken that you have to drive to the far side of henderson to buy, because i didn't get a special birthday dinner on thursday, and i wasn't in much of an eating mood. oh, and i got some of the reeking wetness on my hands and had to scrub like a surgeon, doing more damage to my already fading henna sun.

other than that, work was fine (and busy). funny story, though. our floral manager was covered in glitter (and i mean covered) from stocking all the christmas picks we just got in (yes, it's christmas already in craftland). so, people kept pointing this out to her, and you could tell she really wanted to kick them, especially after about the third time. i know to the customers it must seem really unique and cute, but since she's in charge of floral and all christmas floral must apparently by law be smothered in glitter, she spends about four months a year likewise smothered in glitter. by christmas i will be smothered in glitter on a regular basis and all i have to do is ring it up at the register. my apron pockets are still full of glitter from last christmas. i never knew before that glitter was quite so essential to christmas.



happy birthday to me

i'm a quarter of a century old today. yay! i just wanted to say that.

well, i'll see you sunday at 6:00. unless you live across the country, then i understand why you can't make it for celebration by minigolf.



a quiz counts as posting so i posted

Which Sesame Street Muppet's Dark Secret Are You?

The Count's Obsessive-Compulsive DisorderIt started with a simple affection for counting and the terror it induced in others, didn't it? But now it's turned into a full-blown life-consuming chaotic nightmare of order, repetition, zealousness, and perfectionism. You used to be so grand, but now you find yourself obsessively worrying over the littlest things--like, maybe if you don't check the light switch at least once every two minutes, the electricity will go out (and damnit, you're a vampire--that shouldn't be a problem!), or maybe if you don't wash your hands until your seams are coming out, you'll get some fatal disease. Get yourself some treatment.
Take this