1. Reply to this post, and I will pick six of your icons.
2. Make a post (including the meme info) and talk about the icons I chose.
3. Other people can then comment to you and make their own posts.
4. This will create a never-ending cycle of icon glee.

Computer Suicide, by everlyn
I loves me some Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and I can frequently be counted on to be the voice of doom. Also, insanity. Either way, the icon makes for a warning tag that the opinion being stated is at odds from the standard one.

Consistency is Overrate, by bookloversdiary
I am female, and thus of the gender commonly regarded as indecisive. Changing opinions is like wanting your cake and having it too. (Does anyone else wonder where this statement came about from? It's your cake, why can't you have it?) So people in general, me in particular, have no qualms with changing our minds about what we want for dinner. After we've ordered. (Also, I have this internal timer I set when John's playing WoW. It could be an hour, it could be five minutes. But after it goes off, I wander off. This strikes me as rather feline behavior...)

Mock Fandom, by snarkel
I needed something to use as a movie/book/tv show/whatever snarky review icon. Han was the best I could find, amidst a bevy of "My fandom..." icons. (Such as "My fandom turned into a 'Best of Queen' tape", which all Good Omens fans will find amusing, and so will everyone else, but they'll be wondering where the quote is from. I think I also have a 'MY FANDOM SPEAKS ONLY IN CAPITAL LETTERS', for the Discworld fan in me. But I haven't loaded it.) But I hold little sacred, and so I mock. Especially things like Hercules Versus the Moon Men.

Diplomat, by pouring_icons
I'm not even certain I've read the Discworld book this is taken from (I only have eight or so, and I actually haven't finished Guards, Guards...). But I'm not known for being tactful (my main way of doing so is by keeping my mouth shut), so this pokes gentle fun at me or whomever I am replying to. And sometimes Margret, who once called to ask if I wanted a used book for my birthday. (Really, none of the S-B girls are good with tact, but it's toss up between Margret and E about who's worse.)

Authority, by iconsbycurtana
In my head, this icon goes by "I'm the alpha male!", which is a running joke over at Maya and Crystal's place, because even though there's two guys living with them and Maya's the one bringing in the money and paying the bills, Crystal's the alpha male. So this is my "because I said so" icon. Fear it. Respect its authority. And Fifth Element provides the perfect screencap for right amount of authority I exude.

Unhelpful, by iconsbycurtana as well
My advice, let me share it with you.

It's not spam if it''s one link every two to three weeks, right?

Anyways, knowing my job, isn't this hilarious? Actually, it's still hilarious, but my job makes it even funnier.



(As a side note, you may want to view this in a different layout than mine. It may jut be my laptop's tiny screen, but it eats any part of the image that's outside the journal box.)

Want to know what's even better than lolcats? Adding dirigibles.

Haven't posted in awhile. Let's see if I can remember anything interesting that's happened lately.
( Lengthy blathering follows )

I've never had any illusions about my lack of anything respecting tact. That being said, I'd like to point you in the direction of someone less tactful than me. To protect the stupid, her name shall be withheld. I shall simply say, this person is 18, writes like a 13-year-old AIMer, and whose name begins with M. (Also, same last name as me.)

So this person calls me up several days ago (maybe last week) to ask, "hey, Kat, what do you want for your birthday?" Me being at work (even if this has been, like, the most dead week ever), I point her in the direction of my wishlist tag (because I don't make decisions like this quickly, as Lee and mine's frequent fusses over food functions can attest. It's not like there's that many restaurants we agree on, so really, we ought to just start flipping a coin) and send her on her merry way.

She calls me up a couple days later (again, at work...) to say, "hey, I'm getting your present on ebay." Okaaaay, I think, and this matters why? But then she continues, "and I was wondering, does it matter if your present is used or do you want it new?"

...

...

Dear God in Heaven. How did this child ever manage to make friends once she left fourth grade? She's lucky she's talking to me and not someone who would take offense to that question. Because, provided she's not getting me food or clothing or movies, I *don't* care. Unless it was used by five-year-olds and torn to shreds or drooled on or colored on. Then I mind. But still, this is my birthday present we're talking about. I don't get her cheap used stuff for *her* birthday and call to see if she's okay with it. (Possibly I should start saving nail clippings to give to her this year. (Maybe start eating more calcium. Would that make nails grow faster?))

I'm rather dreading checking my mail for the next week. She might've sent me a reused envelope from the anthrax scare.


Possibly I should update the wishlist to 'please, nothing bought from strange, possibly naked people on ebay who burn DVDs and pass them off as real.' (Also, no canned air. I bought some from K-Mart around the time I got NWN2. Did you know you need ID to buy canned air? What's up with that? Are you checking my age or my address, dude? It's not like you can snort the stuff. (And if you can, please don't share with the class. We have vivid imaginations and don't need the help.))

If anybody else is going to do the ebay thing, please send me cash instead. That way, you'll have gotten me lunch and not recycled bed sheets that will go straight into the trash can.

Also, Laura, please speak to your twin. Anybody less passive-aggressive than me would have ripped her a new one on the phone (regardless of audience) and driven over to beat her up instead of just mocking her on an LJ.

Even if you only read Dominic Deegan and have no idea what Elf Only Inn is, this is hilarious. (EOI, btw, is a webcomic that takes place in a roleplaying chat room/forum. Most of the chatters, to the chagrin of the admin, aren't elves and they don't roleplay so much as stand around and make fun of chat stereotypes. Is much fun. Plus, it's back from its hiatus, only as an MMORPG instead of a chat room. Still is much fun.)

Now back to helping Liz think up names for her latest brainchild.

Pirate laws. *g*

I didn't put any curl-ilizer or whatever into my hair after I showered this afternoon, so I'm looking at it going 'wow, that's frizzy'. And something Laura said a while back came to mind (or maybe it was Margret, but I think it's Laura because she's a bit clueless like that). "Wow ,Katharine, your hair's so pretty. It's like a flower. ... Maybe a dandelion." The only reply to which can be 'stop now, before you get even further behind.'

And this gets me thinking to the current Candi storyline, in which our intrepid heroine reveals that she has poofy, frizzy hair. (I do not suggest the comic, no matter what E. says. I only read it (and by read, I mean glanced boredly at) because the art is cute and colorful. The characters are all whiny 18-year-old college kids and you can get that IRL.) Her solution is to go to a hairdresser to get it all straightened out. (Which apparently lasts for months in comic-world.) This does not solve the dilemma of how to handle to my hair. (Since it still could devour parts of NYC. Maybe just Central Park.) Just goes to show you, everything you ever wanted to learn from this world, you will never find in online comics. Unless you want to learn how college kids live.

Also, was watching Dr. Who earlier. (The new season. Well, the new-in-the-USA season, as it's already season two over in GB, for obvious reasons. The main one being BBC is the people (are the people? BBC is singular, a corporation. People is plural. BBC is the person? BBC has the people? ... I hate groups.) who produce it.) So Rose (the spunky Earthgirl sidekick) gets disintegrated after being eliminated from the future, Anne-Droid hosted The Weakest Link, in which the goodbye is permanent and the prize is keeping your life. (Not that I don't wish that upon gameshow contestants, but still...) I call this process of death atomization, since you're turned into a tiny pile of ashes by a laser beam. All that remains of you are your atoms, floating around somewhere. But then it strikes me that maybe it should be called de-atomization, since your atoms are essentially being removed from the totality of yourself and now you aren't even atoms. Since you're dead and the atoms are up for grabs now.

So I pondered this. Atomization or de-atomization? And then I thought, maybe it could be like flammable and inflammable. You know, sounding like complete opposites but being the same thing. (No matter what you think (and by think, I mean what they tell you, you gullible bubblehead), inflammable on the cans of aerosol hair spray does not mean it will make your hair *less* likely to catch fire. Never stand next to a smoker. Idiots.) Because if you want to say something won't catch fire, it's flame-retardant. (Retardant as in you're retarded for thinking inflammable won't catch on fire.) But I still have no idea how the atomization/de-atomization argument will end. I like atomization better because it has less syllables and because de-atomization has two vowels sitting next to each other (by way of a hyphen) that both need to be pronounced, ergo the need for the hyphen. (Also, am wondering if I'm mixing my Greek and Latin roots. It's a common occurence.)

On a final note, one of the bills I got today had a Confederate flag and Deo Vindice (or possibly venidice or vinidice, but you get the idea) stamped onto the back. My basic Latin tells me "God (some derivative of 'vindicate')". My Google search gives me the national motto of the Confederacy, translated as "God is our/my defender" (I forget the pronoun.) Where are they getting the defense? Vindicate is offense. Or really, retaliation. Not quite the same as defend.

People these days. No education to speak of. (Take, for instance, the new mechanic insisting that the Civil War was about slavery. And that the North had no slaves.)

Or A Complaint About Slash, As Seen In Star Wars
( For those of you who would rather not be traumatized re:Everyone's Favorite Trilogies, you can stop reading now. )

I'm not one for correspondence. All my email is horoscope updates, lj updates, and spam. All my post is for credit cards and other things that want your money. I don't even *get* post at the apartment because I still list my folks PO box as my mailing address. (The post office is less likely to get run over by a pick up truck and lose all your mail. So.) I got my- third?- piece of mail today. (There was that note from the missus (I just find it so weird and funny. And I know another Stephanie, so when people say Steph I think Cox, not Sindelar/Kieszyk (did I spell that right?) So saying missus keeps it straight it my mind (and confuses everyone else)), and I'm sure there was something else... This is completely discounting the DVDs I get, because really, that's *delivery* not post (which means E's Christmas present doesn't count, nor does the snarky shirt (though that would bring the total closer to ten, I think))).

Anyways, now that I have openly disclosed my love affair with the parantheses, we shall continue to the topic at hand. (Except it's not at hand because now I've got you so thoroughly confused you can't even remember whose blog this is. (Though the parantheses are a dead give-away.))

And actually, sidetracking a bit, I can't use missus anymore to describe Stephanie-in-Utah anymore, because Stephanie-in-Georgia's getting married too. And my mail today made it official. Getting the mail went something like this:
"Junk, something for Liz, spam, 'oooh, free credit card', junk, fancy handwriting for me. Huh?" No return address in the corner, so I flip it over and there's a familiar address (no name, though) in more fancy handwriting and a wax seal. (Which is so cool, and that reminds me, E. sent me a cute note here once. (If that doesn't make sense to you, you obviously have never seen my sister with wax and letters to be mailed. She is a mad woman with it.) Admittedly her stamps don't have wedding bells, which told me the contents of the envelope, if not the actual phrasing. Though they're always stiff and formal and go "Mr. and Mrs. Such-and-so and Dr. and Mrs. This-and-that would like to annouce the betrothal of Somebody Such-and-so and Chit This-and-that blah, blah, blah. Reception at twelve. Drinks poured liberally.")

So my invitation to Stephanie and Sam's wedding has arrived (complete with return itty-bitty envelope for how many I will be bringing (and if I bring someone, can I leave them there?)). I now have to try and remember where St Mary's Catholic Church is (and gee, golly, I had forgotten that I had friends who were Catholic and not Protestant/Unitarian/agnostic garlic) and wonder if I should bring someone or hope that someone else doesn't bring someone and hook up with them.

And isn't an Ensign enlisted Navy? (His dad's Air Force and he goes Navy? Does he even know how to swim? (Hold that thought, gone swimming with him. Does he know how not to make people want to drown him?) And does the Navy teach people to swim?)

Liz calls me vampiric and other such nonsense because I use as few lights as possible. (I'm typing by the light of my monitor, btw, and I have my Word settings set to blue background with white letters instead of white with black letters because it was too damn bright. Alas that I have not managed to make LJ do that as well.) My mother always expected me to grow up and move into a castle so I could find a secret passageway to live in. I'm still planning on it, so, don't go thinking bad things about my mother. (Or at least about that. You can think bad things about her garrulousness, but that's because you already have nightmares about you, my mother, and your broken legs.)

Check this out. Well, don't if you don't like potty humor, but I thought it was funny. It's freaking hilarious if you know German. (Or even if all the German you know you learned from WWII movies.) I about died when I came across it.

E. tried to teach me the basics of contact juggling. Let's all make bad jokes about the two of us bonding over me learning how to roll balls around in my hand. On my hand. And bounce them, which I was beginning to get the hang of when we were called away to dinner. Or you can just quietly think the vad jokes to yourselves and spare the rest of us. (The rest of us being Katie, because she's quite possibly the only person in the world over the age of fifteen and under the age of fifty who doesn't make those kind of jokes. Though I'd bet she'd make an exception for The Labyrinth, but only because it is a vaguely naughty children's movie that has David Bowie in tights with muppets crotch-height.)

@Liz: Squishies!!
@Everybody else: Inside joke. Like the artwork found showing a guy unbuttoning some button and it's actually labelled with the sound effect *unclasp*, which is so much funnier than the little *flees* that pop up everywhere, but less cute, because there's no hand-waving and leg-running motions.

Roscoe is sulking underneath my desk/sewing table/flat surface containing computer necessities/whatever. I feel sorry for the little dude, because he keeps coming to the door every time I come in, and she's only been gone two days.

Teh roomie, btw, for those of you not in the know, is in Utah, visiting the missus. (She's married! She's so totally a missus. Oh god. She's Mrs. Kieszyk. I can never think of her as Stephanie again. And the other Stephanie is going to do it to. She'll be Mrs. Durbin, except I'll always think she's Sam's mom when people say that, and oh ick, talk about bad Oedipal imagery. I'm going to go and mildly spaz about marraige over in the corner for a bit now.)

Common law marraige, as per E.

Art for money.

Liz and Stephen square off, sugah. (Runner-up in too-lengthy comment section contest.)

Carmen takes on Jack Thompson.

The winner in the longest comment section contest. (Summation of argument? Women: Objects or Equals? Cause of entire argument? A little quiz I took offense to. That Carmen wrote an entirely too long comment to and just made it a journal post. Which would've been the end of the story, but then someone decided that she liked being objectified and wanted to grow up to be a housewife dependent on her man for money.)

Liz, on female characters in the comic industry.

Incongruous. Read the comment section too. The Easter Bunny shows up. In Vietnam.

Actually, anything over there is bound to be amusing. Or traumatizing. Likely the latter, actually.

Reactions to Goblet of Fire as per an icon-maker.

Or, how to snark in ten words or less. "I suppose I'm okay with the pink dress. ... Even though it should be blue." There are other me's out there, people, and they want the blue dress too! Though I thought Harry ought to be kinda short, especially compared to Ron (always described as tall). Seeing as how Ron got regular meals and didn't have to be cupboard-sized and all.

(Never read bad fanfic. Harry is apparently taller than Ron (he has a twelve inch growth spurt the summer before 7th year, apparently), bedecked in gayboi leather (because girls don't see guys in normal blue jeans as being sexy, though I'll agree with the ick-ness any female possessing a little common sense has with the pants that start to where a guy's boxers end), and completely ripped via Quidditch. (Though I'll give on the fact he probably would have some serious thigh muscles. >_> Gotta wonder where abs of steel come into play.))

I think the unrequited!Myrtle is cute. "You could share my toilet if you die."


To get off that topic, sort of. Is anyone else annoyed by the boys/girls' club they made Durmstrang and Beauxbaton into? Admittedly I really don't want to see a guy in the Beauxbaton uniform- even though it was cute, in a 'hey, they make ten-year-olds wear that too? Are the teachers Nabochovs?' sort of way. Plus few girls would shave their heads just to get into a school. (Actually, I'd grow my hair out, because none of those guys can compare to Vin Diesel. Now there's a hottie who pulls off shaved bald . Yum. ... Moving back on topic now.) In the book, the fact that *both* schools accept *both* genders is stated. Y'know, the fact the Durmstrang girls all looked liked Marcus Flint and the Beauxbaton boys that the younger girls were cooing over? (Likely all gaybois if they had to wear movie!Beauxbatons uniforms. Maybe they had a darker blue for the guys.)

We have an engine in from a carpet-cleaning company. The van it was taken out of has been sitting behind our gate since Thursday. The parts were supposed to be overnighted for it- because that's thousands of dollars worth of work they can't do while the engine is being repaired. Half the order got back-ordered. i.e., the guys we buy the stuff from lied when they said they had everything. So they drop-shipped from the factory when we called the assholes on it, and our mechanic has spent most of today fixing the engine. The real bitch isn't fixing the engine, it's taking it out and putting it back into the machine it goes in. (The reason why the van has stayed here while waiting for parts. Waste of time to take it and drop it back off when the parts finally do come in.) That's three hours a piece. Want to know how the mechanic described the job?

( Naughty language warning )

Nothing new ever happens to me, which is why all my posts are snarky quiz results and other such random things.

So, things I've done lately:
- Saw Harry Potter with Liz. Only two other people in the theater, so we talked loudly. Kept OTP-moments quiet though, so as not to scare the non-fangirls sitting six rows back. Had dinner afterwards and discussed Stephen's leg hair. (No, you don't want to know.)

-Discovered JT Blocks and have gotten completely hooked to the mindlessness. Though am also having fun counting how many Tina-bots are out there trying to seduce innocents to her fun website with pictures. (31)

-Watched Dogma. Watched all its deleted scenes and outtakes. Was impressed by Matt Damon's ability to make up Star Wars cracks spur of the moment. (Also think there was a gay moment in the outtakes section where he had trouble ripping his shirt and Mr. Affleck finally got annoyed and did it for him. But that could've been the fangirl in me. But it was shirt-ripping, not soulful looks, so I'm thinking no, that was a gay moment and not my imagination.)

-Liz replaced the batteries in her universal remote and now we can't use it on the DVD player. I tried reprogramming it; but 1)the letters have all faded off the remote, making it impossible to find the code button, and 2)her instructions are for a different remote.

-Watched Rosco hug Ivory. Very odd. He jumps on her, stalks her, sniffs her, but raise one paw up and just set it across her back in a weird cat hug? No.

-Played NWN. Debated whether my need for plot outweighed my need for my character to have the ability to kick ass without me actually trying. Decided respawning sucked and went with the latter.

-Tried writing Ted's character description. Got bored. Decided to draw instead. Discovered Maggie has no physical description and have decided she's the spitting image of Pamela Lee Anderson. Have already started on picture, thanks to wonders of internet.

-Got phone call from aunt asking why I hadn't called. Phone was off when she called, and I deleted her messages, seeing as how she left the same damn one three times within the span of thirty minutes, not to mention the fact that the day she was asking about had already passed. Said no I do not want to spend more time with her. (Three hour dinner! I finished within the first half hour! I had plans! After-dinner plans not including her. I am annoyed. Was annoyed.) Got asked if I'd talked to a shrink yet. Said it wasn't any of her business and said my goodbyes before I said something less tactful.

-Watched the Star Wars Special Edition trilogy. Almost saw the entire thing in one afternoon, but I fell asleep right about the time the Rebels were blowing up the Endor shield generator. Had to skip through scenes today to get back to that part. Discovered that Hayden whats-his-face had replaced the old-guy-in-dress for the Anakin-ghost at the very end. Don't remember that being there before.

-Decided I wanted to play KotOR. Went looking for its CD holder. Couldn't find it. Tried Liz's room, on the faint memory of seeing it there. Finally found it behind her CPU. All CDs there but the play disc, of course. Went through Liz's music CDs in state of huffiness and found it somewhere in the middle. Will point out when next I see here that KotOR has sucky music and can't play in her stereo- that I know of, anyway.

-Got giant box of chocolate from work because the company whose equipment we sell is very pleased with us and sent us chocolate as a thank you. Am doubting this was sent to many others.

-Helped set up Christmas decorations at work. Wondered why I'd never helped before. Not counting my fear of being on slanted roofs, and all. Told customers to have a merry Christmas.

-Flirted with cashier at gas station. Think he thinks my name is Elisabeth. I've been refilling her mug there every day, and it says 'Lizzy' in big letters on it. Debated borrowing Dad's and going by Jerry and seeing if he or the regular attendant notices.

-Bought Christmas presents for twins. Pondered what to get Secret Santa recipient. Made decision (gasp!) and now must find store that sells one. Pondered what to get E. Still have no earthly idea, as humanoid robots haven't been invented yet.

-Watched news. Discovered mayor in Ohio is renaming the 'Holiday Parade' back to 'Christmas Parade' and had fun laughing at the little old lady who thought it was in poor taste. Would vote for him in next election, except I don't live there.

-Got hooked on the new Outer Limits series. They're like tiny Stephen King stories, except with happier endings. Am also hooked on Night Visions (which gets the bad endings). Not looking forward to next month of television at work, as now it is officially Christmas-movie season, and they're all the same, just with different characters in different cities with different sob stories.

Some funny stories from yesterday.

First up, my sister, Laura. She went to the base hospital to see if they had copies on file of her recent physical. The conversation went something like this:

"Would you keep copies of sports physicals? I lost mine."
"What's your name?"
"Laura Strawser-Booth."
"And your last four?"
"Uh... Ooth."

I worked records for the hospital for three summers. I know exactly what the receptionist wanted. The last four numbers of her sponsor's social security number, or hers if she doesn't know her sponsor's. Not the last four letters of her surname. Ditz.


Second up.
I'm reading the archives of a new comic I found. Liz gets home, comes in to see what I'm doing. Strikes up conversation whilst I'm still reading. I get to this comic.

"Hey, they sound an awful lot like J.C. and St- Oh my god. James Jones and Stephen Schrader."

Two words for you: Lex Luthor.

The mind boggles.

Thirdly, something from work and only a little funny.
Phone rings, I answer it.
"I'm looking for some lawnmower parts."
"Who makes the lawnmower?"
"Sears."
"We don't sell their parts."
"Do you know who does?"
"Sears, I'd imagine."
"They don't."
"Then nobody else does either."
And then he hung up on me.

Seems obvious to me that if Sears is our competitor, we wouldn't sell parts for their machines, don't you think? These old people, they think they can buy a Gremlin and our Mustang parts will fit on them. You got your money's worth, dude.

(Liz wants to know what quixotic means. I forget. But it's the mood I'm in. (Actually, I said, "I don't know, but I feel it." I think I need to cut back on the iced caffeine.) Quick, minion, go look quixotic up. (Liz calls me terrible because I know she'll look it up, too. She's just jealous I've got a minion and she's still looking for her eye-candy kitchen boy.))

I'm hurt that Liz skipped me over for E, and that Carmen didn't notice I wasn't tagged at all. *cries* This also means I know nobody to tag besides the twins...

--Rules: The starter sets a topic and posts the answers in his/her own blog and then passes it to another 5 people (with their names attached at the end of the entry), then those 5 people being tagged have to state the name of the "tagger" and write the answers in their own blog and pass on to another 5 people...

Topic: My Weird Habits

1. I read. I read everything. The back of cereal boxes, the French assembly directions, stall doors, the romance novel left lying around, ingredients lists, junk mail, the Playboy in the bathroom at work. (They have the awesomest blonde jokes. But I'm not E, so I'm not repeating them. Suffice to say 'how many blondes does it take to screw in a lightbulb? Two but I don't know how they got in there' is the cleanest they get.) It doesn't matter if I like it or not, I have to read it, and I have to finish it. Or the world will end.

2. Twitchy fingers. They chip at paint, at fingernails, at my lips, at glue, scratch at non-existent itches, draw invisible pictures on nearby surfaces, trace freckles into designs, and of course, the joint-popping. (Liz and I once cracked our knuckles in unison when Pug commented on the habit. That was amusing.) My fingers must be doing something. Of course, all of me is twitchy, it's just that focusing the twitchy into the fingers means I can sit still for very long periods of time and not notice it.

3. Talking during a movie. I can't stop, sorry. I multitask at everything, and movie multitasking is picking out details and telling everyone else about them. Why does the summary for Wild, Wild Planet say astronauts must face 'an army of inflatable women' if there are no blow-up dolls? Why does no one else wonder about the magical bagel/waffle in America's Sweethearts? Quit shushing me, you already know how the entire movie goes! See the rest of it, the small pieces of it you can't be *bothered* to watch because they aren't what the movie is about. Life's not about the plot- the plot's always the same; it's about the litle things ao easily missed if you aren't looking for them.

4. I don't wear shorts, except sometimes to bed. I get cold way too easily, and I'd rather be a little warm in pants during the walk between car and building than be freezing my knees off for hours on end in air-conditioned rooms. So my room is kept at the temperature I like (which would probably cause Liz to break out in a sweat if she was ever in it for half an hour), and I wear sweaters and pants and layers whilst in the rest of the world.

5. Seriousness. No matter how many jokes I crack, I take everything said at face value. I get calls at work from one of the guys at the other shop, and because I never recognize his voice, he can say he's Fred from Home Depot or Mike from the pizzeria and I'll pass the message along to Dad and let him figure out who it is. I don't have the time to waste deciding if you're trying to be funny or not; so if I don't get it, it obviously wasn't your sad attempt at a joke, you were being serious and I'll try to be likewise.

E is the queen of TMI. I should know, I'm her sister. And being her sister, that means we should have similarities. Other than the hair, which seems to be how everyone identifies the S-B kids.

So, in the footsteps of E's 'TMI to end all TMI' moments, I present one of my own.

It was really hot in my room last night. So I slept naked.
(Actually, it was no warmer than usual, but I'm feeling a bit under the weather, so my senses are a bit off. For example, I wasn't cold when I left for work this morning. It was in the 60's. That's sweater weather for me.)

This has been your TMI moment of the year. Anyone asking for further TMI moments will be shot by nervous Floridian.

Laura mentioned that I don’t say much about my daily life. To which I prove otherwise! Or just tell you the silly things that happened.

Like, for instance, today, when the housekeepers were loading their carts this morning, Luisa gave a sudden shriek and cried out in Spanish-accented English "Roach! Roach! Roach!" (Cucharacha is harder to say.) I poke my head around the corner to see her dropping a laundry bag and skittering away from it. The housekeeper next to her- Sherry, (who I found out last week lives just down the street from me, but anyways)- picks up the bag, opens it, gives a startled cry, and drops the bag. There is a cockroach *in* the bag.

Andy (the girl in charge of housekeeping while the boss is away, and you may remember her from previous posts) summarily stomps on the bag until she feels something hard. “I squished it,” she announces to the fluttering housekeepers. (Because, y’know, there were eight or so females in the room all going “ick!” over the roach, or else just watching the scene with great amusement. Or bewilderment, in the case of the non-English speaking twit recently hired.) I don’t really believe this (cockroaches don’t squish easily when hidden under soft things) and pick up the bag by its bottom (thus allowing for any squished or unsquished roaches to fall out of the opening).

Sumiko- head laundry personnel from Japan- arrives back downstairs to the cockroach-infested laundry room around this point. She skirts the entire scene to keep working. Wise woman, her. Luisa starts shrieking again, and Sherry says "It’s crawling up the bag!" The cockroach is crawling up the bag, on the outside, towards my hand. Brave girl that I am, I instantly drop said bag and cockroach goes skittering away under Sherry’s cart. Sumiko can be seen moving one of the laundry tubs. Likely hiding the cockroach's escape, as the cockroach was never seen again.

I mentioned as Sherry was moving her cart to look for the roach that maybe we should have called Maintenance, have them take care of the roach for us. (Or even funnier, if only Shane was still working in Laundry and we could make him deal with the roach!) After some serious groaning on the part of the younger employees, we decided that we needed no man to solve our bug problems.

They’d just scream the bugs away. The girls, that is.

( Yet another anecdote of the day. With an even funnier side story. )

I just realized something.

You may need to play some calming music before reading this. Or maybe do meditation to make sure your heart rate is pretty low and you don't spaz out. This goes especially for Carmen.
( Red Pill. You know you'll hate yourself for it, but you're masochistic enough and curious enough to do it anyway. )

Next astonishing use of cliche: Snape turns out to actually be a vampire!

Further astonishing use of cliche: Dumbledore's ghost shows up at the "We killed Voldemort" party and twinkles benignly at everyone.

For those of you still horrified by the first revelation, that's a Star Wars reference. At least I'm not making worse remarks.

...

Never mind, I'll make worse remarks. And I'll keep them rated G too.
( One masterful stroke. (That's also G-rated, btw, so stop thinking like E, you perv.) )

*snerk*