There are these trees at my park that are kind of scraggly-looking. I have no idea what kind of trees these are. They don't get much in the way of lush leaves but every spring, they bloom with the most beautiful blossoms that have the most heavenly scent. Oh, I love those blossoms. I'll pick up a sprig of the fallen blossoms and just inhale the scent.
I have to be careful when I do this, though, because the bees like these blossoms just as much as I do. And the last thing I want is to snort a bee up my nose.
Because that would hurt.
And it would be trashy.
*
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TheManTheMyth has been gone all week, working out of town, and while I miss him, it's been kind of nice not being rudely shoved in the middle of the night with ridiculous accusations that I'm snoring and to please turn over.
I totally deny these accusations. *I* do not snore.
Usually when TMTM gives me a shove, I mutter "Sorry" as I roll over to my other side even though I have nothing to be sorry about because I DON'T SNORE.
So the other night, I'm deep in Dreamland when I feel a shove. I mumble an apology and turn over.
Then I wake up enough to realize that it's not TMTM who is doing the shoving.
It's Gracie Lou.
Swell.
Even my dog thinks I snore.
WHICH I DO NOT.
When I woke up this morning, my throat was sore. It felt kind of dried out and scratchy.
I must be coming down with a cold or something.
That's the only logical explanation.
*
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I'm still continuing my research on what my next car is going to be. The lease on my Saturn Vue with the Crappy Gas Mileage is up shortly and obviously I'm going to choose a car that gets much better mileage than 16MPG City.
So I've been test driving various cars and have narrowed it down to 3, all in the same price range.
Recently, someone picked up the brochure of one of the cars that was sitting on my desk and asked if I was getting that car. I said I was considering it. Their reply was that they thought it was, get this, "Too nice a car for you."
Ex squeeze me?
Baking powder?
A mid-size sedan by a Korean auto maker (you do the math) is "too nice of a car for me?"
Really.
Gee, thanks. A LOT.
I guess I'm puttin' on airs and a Yugo is more fittin' for the likes of me.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go and snort a bee up my nose.
I don't know about you but I'm always hearing horror stories about people getting group e-mails, usually business-related and they make a snarky comment about one of the recipients, usually the boss, and they think they sent it only to the sender but find out that they hit the "reply all" button and all hell breaks loose.
Now I may not be a rocket scientist and I don't have a college ejamacation but I CAN read and I DO know the difference between "reply" and "reply ALL." It's pretty easy, actually. One of the choices has the word "ALL" and the other Does Not.
If you want to reply ONLY to the sender of the e-mail, choose "reply." This way, your comment about how The Boss is such a knuckle dragger and is only one step above Neanderthal and it's a miracle he can walk and chew gum at the same time due to his family tree not having any branches and his gene pool lacking a deep end goes ONLY to the person you intended it to go to and not the whole department. Including The Neanderthal Knuckledragging Person Who Signs the Paychecks.
Now me, I have the opposite problem. I frequently received group e-mails that require the "reply ALL" choice and I find myself replying only to the sender instead of ALL.. And then the rest of the group gets denied my Pearls of Wisdom regarding whatever matter is being discussed and debated and then the rest of the group is left to flounder helplessly and aimlessly until I re-send my reply to everyone else and then they all breathe a sigh of relief when they get my reply and they'll nod to themselves and think, "Thank GOD for Kelly!"
Okay, they don't.
But they SHOULD.
You can tell just by looking at my 3rd (or was it 4th? I think it was 4th.) grade picture with my Campfire Girl Honor Bead choker that I would NEVER accidentally hit the "Reply All" button by mistake.
I'd lose an Honor Bead.
You know how I said I was giving up cussing for Lent?
Yeah, well, fuck that shit.
I know, I know. Cussing is bad but ya know, sometimes "Oh, poo!" or "Gosh darn it!" just doesn't bring the satisfaction that you get with a good old fashioned truck driver meets drunken sailor meets gangbanger round of expletives.
Like when your husband goes to start his truck up so that he can get on the road to do a job 600+ miles away and the truck does not start. And it's not going to start so he has to take Thing 1's Red Rocket which isn't the best running vehicle in our tiny stable of vehicles and the odds of THAT breaking down are astronomical and then you get to listen to Thing 1 whine about how he doesn't have a car now and what's HE supposed to do.
And when you call Auto Club to have it towed to the diesel repair place and emphasize that this is a BIG TRUCK and they assure you that your Triple A membership covers it.
And then the tow truck shows up and the driver says, "Yeah, no. Trucks of this size aren't covered" and he tells you that it will be at least $300 to tow the Big Truck because they have to get the heavy-duty monster tow truck and when you ask why Triple A said it was covered they tell you that Triple A is Wrong.
And you call Triple A back to demand answers and they tell you that it's the towing company's fault and then the towing company and Triple A continue to blame each other while you're standing there getting more and more pissed every minute.
And then this morning, your WHITE dog, who is so lucky she's cute and sweet because she's never going to win any prizes in the Intelligence Category despite being a mix of the two smartest breeds, goes to jump into the back seat of your car and completely misses and lands with a giant splash in the gutter that is full of muddy, icky water.
Add someone publicly accusing me of being "more than useless" at the job I'm doing and not a single one of the 450+ people I handle coming to my defense although several of them did e-mail me to tell me I'm doing an awesome job but yeah, thanks for sticking up for me.
So the above, among other things, is why the whole "Give up cussing for Lent" idea was totally shitcanned.
But other than that, Mrs. Kennedy, how was Dallas?
