(no subject)

So this morning I was not quite conscious enough at 6am to remember that after you turn your alarm off you're supposed to get up.

I woke up 45 minutes after I'm supposed to, with fifteen minutes until I was supposed to be at the El, and still got here on time this morning.

\o/

(no subject)

Today has been a total Monday, let me tell you. Scheduling mixups all morning kept me on the go, and then nobody showed up to relieve me for lunch. The issue was that two different people cover me on alternating weeks, and Coworker L uh, up and quit on Friday. Nobody is more surprised than I am, believe me. Fortunately I packed a lunch today so I managed to get a few mouthfuls of cheese sandwich to tide me over until they rustled someone up to replace her.

AND THEN I WAS RANDOMLY CAVITY-SEARCHED BY A HOMELESS WOMAN.

Okay, not really, but almost. While I was doing my daily walk during lunch I took a moment to move my keys from my right to left pocket so they wouldn't scratch up my phone. A panhandler saw me do it and assumed it was a handful of change, apparently. So she came up to me and asked for spare change, of which I have none because I rarely carry cash.

"I'm sorry, I have no cash," I said.

"You have change in your pocket, I can hear it," she replied.

"No, those are my keys," I said and tried to keep going and she followed me and shouted, "PROVE IT!"

Now, normally I'd just keep walking and I have every sympathy for the plight of the homeless and I do give, when I have money, but seriously? Honestly? Did you just ask me to give you money for nothing and then decide I should prove I wasn't lying to you?

"Listen," I said, "I'm not going to turn out my pockets for some random stranger. I don't have any cash. Leave me alone!"

And then a bunch of tourists looked at me like I'd just taken a baby-and-puppy sandwich out and started to eat it.

Please let Monday be over soon.

(no subject)

LOL, talk about the power of suggestion in the universe, apparently now my parents want a dog. (Sorry, Dove. Their timing sucks.)

Mum said to me in an email today that she's thinking of getting a border collie or a golden retriever. Now, I love my parents but I don't have a terrifically high opinion of their sense of self-preservation, so I told her firmly "no" and smacked her on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper and suggested perhaps a corgi or some smallish brand of terrier. She seems to be with me on the border collie now, because those are some high-energy dogs, but I think the retriever is still in play.

See, what my parents want is a dog who is 1. intelligent and 2. easily trained and 3. charismatic, whereas what I want for them is a dog who is 1. low energy and 2. not too messy and 3. disinclined to chew on the walls like Dog did.

She did say that if corgis are good enough for the Queen, they're good enough for her (that's my Mum!). I'm tempted to suggest a dorgi to her, which is a breed invented because the Queen's corgis got a little too friendly with some of Princess Margaret's dachshunds, but I doubt they're very common in Texas. Still, look at that face. Who can resist?

Dear internet, what are your thoughts on corgis? Love, Sam.

(no subject)

R's back from Butt Camp Hotech. Apparently he had an awesome time, but the look on his face when I told him pizza was on the way was pretty indicative that chair sales do take it out of you. He drank half a gallon of milk in two hours and we demolished the pizza and he took off for Blue Island and Blues Girl came over (the one who bought me a hamburger once) and freaked me out about turning thirty, but it passed and now I'm going to bed.

*flops*

G'night.

(no subject)

Okay, I lied about the whole going to bed thing, but I did lie down quietly and futz around on YouTube until I had to express an opinion.

I'm gonna say this once and once only.

1. Gareth David-Lloyd, you take that hat off and you pull your goddamn trousers up, young man.

2. Just sing pop. You know you want to. I can hear it every time you try to bring your own personal funk to the songs you sing. It'll be good pop, man, but you can't hide behind the blues. They're the blues, just sing 'em. Or go get Simon Cowell to help you cut an album. Have a nice sit down with John Barrowman, he'll give you a hand.

3. No, seriously, stop starting every song with your back to the audience. I don't know who you stole that move from and I'm sure they're grateful it's yours now, but you have to stop.

3a. Okay, I know I'm spoiled because I live with an evangelical bluesman and I'm comparing poor GDL to a) the greats and b) the really dirty blues guys I know through R. I can't help it. It's cute that you think you have a blues band and everything, but Muddy Waters is trying to claw his way out of his grave so he can kick your ass and set your hat on fire.

TAKE OFF THE HAT I AM BEGGING YOU.