A death in the family

My Uncle Jim died a few weeks ago. Before you think “Oh—how sad” let me tell you a few things about this man. He abused my father’s sister both physically and mentally for who knows how long. Even when her debilitating depression and MS was at its worse, his wrath did not subside. In addition to his dubious skills as a husband, he also had some interesting ideas on parenting. His oldest son apparently made a good punching bag and his youngest child, a daughter, was a sex toy from the time she was 8 until she was 13. Only his middle son seems to have survived youth with minimal physical abuse at the hands of a parent. But, the mental and emotional scars are all over all three of my cousins.


For the last 11 months of Uncle Jim’s life he was in the hospital. Heart surgery, constant infections and pretty much anything else you can imagine was what he dealt with on a daily basis. Karma was doing its thing on this one. Shortly after my aunt died, my uncle remarried and this woman was by his side through all of this time. She ingratiated herself with my cousin’s wife (who knew nothing of the “ways” of this man) and took the role of Grandmother to their three boys. She blogged almost daily about her husband’s condition and often mentioned the “grandsons” and occasionally my cousin’s wife. Rarely, hardly ever really, did she mention her husband’s children.


About two weeks before my uncle (I have yet to come up with a term for him that shows no real connection to me) died, his wife emailed my cousin, the middle child, and once again chastised him and his siblings for being so uninterested in his father’s condition. She went so far as to say that Jim had always told her that his kids abandoned their mother when she was dying (a falsehood!) and he expected them to do the same to him. This set my cousin off in ways I can’t even believe, yet completely understand. He directed her to contact his sister and see what some of the reason that they have issues with their father might be.


My cousin was contacted and she spilled the whole story to “the wife” who retorted with “Oh yeah, I knew that.”


Really? She knew that and still asked why the kids weren’t holding vigils at their father’s bedside? Seriously, who in the world did she think she was kidding? If she did know, she is as twisted as her husband was!


If you ever have the opportunity to go to the funeral of someone who was hated by most who really knew him, do it. Be prepared for surreal moments. There will be very apparent “sides” taken at the gathering after the service. There may be no flowers at the church….NONE! The widow will probably be sitting alone until she gets pity from her 6-year-old “grandson” who decides to sit by her. Discussions of the deceased won’t be about shared happy moments, but more likely comparing notes of how they messed up with nearly all of the people there. Everyone will be asking themselves why they came and most will come up with the same answer “For the kids.” Then you realize that the kids are asking themselves why they are there. I guess the answer on that is a societal obligation, or perhaps it is to make sure the bastard is really dead.


Folks say death is final….but it’s not. There are numerous things to be dealt with after the death of a family member. Many of these things have financial ramifications. In the case of my uncle, he apparently made sure that his wife was taken care of….and no one else. Not his children whose lives he nearly destroyed, not his grandson’s he claimed to love so much. No one but the woman who was stupid enough to marry him at the age of 49. He was her prince charming. Never has life as a “spinster” been more appealing to me. This woman is making sure that her husband is able to get one last jab in at his kids. His kids who have done the best they can with the hand they were dealt. A hand that was dealt with anger and inappropriate behavior and fear.


I know this whole thing is far from over. But I feel that I will be closer to my cousins now and they will be closer with each other.


Upon my departure for the memorial service, my boss gave me a eulogy to give to my uncle.


Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust

You’ll burn in Hell

For fucking with us


Adios Uncle Jim, you monstrous bastard.

Single Girl’s Guide to Moving

I just moved into a new apartment. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, gated community, super close to my favorite grocery store. All good things. However, I still haven’t quite moved completely OUT of my old apartment. I have until midnight tonight to make that break-up final. To take all my stuff, including all my trash, and be done with the place. I suddenly feel like one of those girls who can’t get out of a relationship without being almost in another one.

Here’s the deal with my old place. I’d been there 7 years. For the most part everything was cool. But we were just moving in different places. I was moving to a place in my life that I didn’t want to be packed like a sardine into my home and it was moving into a place where black mold grows.

If you ever want to feel completely alone in the world, move by yourself. Make sure you’ve lived in your place for awhile, have animals who like to place things under furniture and have a tendency to keep stuff longer then you should. In order to get the full effect and complete alone experience, have lots of random things that can’t really be boxed up and make sure to live on at least the second floor and move to a new place that is also at least on the second floor. OOOO…having a small car helps too.

Once you get the keys to the new place, bring over fun things, like clothes and such. Carefully consider the order of the new closets and take lots of time to place things just so. Only put a little bit of stuff in your car at a time so you can drive back and forth as much as possible, while fooling yourself that you are accomplishing things. Go ahead, take a nap.

Make sure that whatever outfit you choose to move in makes you feel especially unattractive and then work up a good sweat. i also suggest being in dire need of a root touch up and a bang trim so you have more hair ornaments keeping things “in place” then a Eastern European gymnast.

Pack your boxes as heavy as possible. Once you’ve lost the packing tape for the fifteenth time, start putting heavy things in trash bags. Then sort of drag the trash bags a bit so they start to fall apart as you put them in the car. Make mental notes of the things you need at Target, and then quckly forget it. Make at LEAST 4 trips to Target and spend as much of your hard earned money as possible at each trip.

Once the movers come…..oh yes, you HAVE to hire movers,with no upper body strength and a 99 Saturn Coupe, there ain’t no way that big fluffy red chair will make it to the new place.  Once the movers come, make sure you remember that you have a bunch of stuff in two closets. Fool yourself into thinking that it’s not much stuff and will be like one trip. Start to realize that your attachment to things lessens when you start to think about taking it up the stairs at your new place and finding a new place to stash it for another 7 years. The movers will be super sweet….awww, poor girl ain’t gots no man to help her move….and will move your stuff faster then any group of friends could think of doing, and they don’t complain to your face.  During this portion of the move, you will feel good about things. Try to remember that feeling later when you are sitting in the shambles of your former home disgusted at the dust bunnies and unidentifiable stains that have been hidden by the furniture for lord knows how long. Recall it also when you wish your dog could be trusted to run down to Lowes and get a new vent for the dryer so you could at least finish drying the clothes that are in the dryer….sorry Wade the mover, glad you’re so strong!

Go grab some lunch on the way back to the old place. Make sure you’ve been eating fast food for the past few days so you can push your body physically while giving it the worst fuel possible. Sit on the floor of your old living room and hold back the tears at the amount of crap that is still left to deal with. Realize that there is no one to call to get help from. Curse yourself and your chronic procrastination. Go into the closet and wonder if there is really any reason to hold onto the prom dress your mom sewed for you or your grandparents china.

Take a few bags of trash down to the dumpster. Wish that instead of watching 5 hours of America’s Next Top Model, you had gone out Saturday night and found some nice, strong boy who would love to carry heavy things and take trash out in return for sexual favors. Must be clean, cute is optional. 

Make sure to have an appointment on your moving day for something completely unrelated, say taking your dog to the vet for shots. Once you have cleared whatever momentum you had going, make sure to add as many expenses to the trip as possible. Extra heartworm pills and flea treatment….bring it on. You’re already hemorrhaging money at this point, what’s a couple hundred more dollars.

Work yourself to supreme exhaustion. To where you are driving in the turn lane for a couple of miles before you notice. Don’t take pain pills until day 3….then curse yourself for not working out more (i.e. at all)

Figure out a way to postpone the final cleaning of your apartment and go to your new place. Bask in the glory of being alone. All alone. Alone in that big apartment with a big new bed that you will also sleep alone in (save your pets, who are apt to be pissing you off at this point because they are stressed and you find yourself actually saying to them “what the fuck do YOU have to be stressed about?!?”) Take a bath and shave your legs above the knee for no one.  Figure out how to hook up your DVD player and watch a couple of hours of Sex and the City. Make sure to watch the season where Carrie has no man and such. Season 5 I believe it is. It’s all about confusing messages from males and such….good times! Go to bed, exhausted and already anticipating the pain of the next day and trying to divise a way to just leave your old place as is without going broke with “cleaning charges.”  Snuggle up to your dog and convince yourself that even though he can’t carry anything, or help pack or clean and has out of nowhere shit on the floor of your new place, you really LOVE being single.

What’s on my mind today.

  1. a certain friend who is being distant these days. When I ask them about something in particular they indicate that I don’t know what’s going on with their world right now and when I point out that the inquiry was attempting to remedy that precise situation, they say nothing.
  2. an email a friend sent me the other day about “farting strawberries” that continues to make me laugh out loud.
  3. how men can walk into the bathroom with a cup of coffee or other beverage in their hands and do their business. Even if they put the cup on the counter, who knows what kind of “spray” is floating around there. My office is across from the men’s room and I have offered my desk, etc…as a storage spot for beverages. Not nearly enough of them have taken me up on this offer.
  4. sometimes I think that I don’t express aspects of my personality and interest correctly. For example, I love to go to art shows, etc….but I think most people think I’m just a bar type gal.
  5. in addition to art, I also enjoy this immensely. If only I could roller skate and was at all a bad ass.
  6. I want attention from boys, but I don’t want to have to ask for it. Wait, correction, I want attention from certain boys.
  7. most people don’t get me. It’s not that I’m all complicated or anything, I think people just don’t know what to make of me a lot of the time. I guess it makes sense since I don’t know what to make of myself a lot of the time. Perhaps I need to find more folks who are willing to come along for the ride.
  8. There is a boy/man in my office whose hair I want to run my fingers through. In a meeting yesterday I could vividly imagine myself reaching across the table and doing just that. I even think my arm twitched a bit in an effort to move my imagination into reality.
  9. I can’t wait to move into my new place, but HATE packing.
  10. If I look just to the right of my monitor I see my Tim Gunn bobblehead and a chair that has one of my old bridesmaid dresses and a box with a broken piggy bank in it.
  11. My hair needs to be colored in the worst way.
  12. Everyone keeps coming in and “borrowing” my flavored coffee creamer. Whatever.
  13. There is a member of my family who is dying. This person has done terrible things and has pretty much ruined a segment of my family. However, they have recreated themselves for people who don’t know the “other stuff” and those people are completely devastated at the idea of the loss. I feel bad for the people who are able to live in ignorant bliss about this person.
  14. I miss my girlfriends in Cali. like crazy. Recently I’ve just wished it was like 9 years ago and we were all ruling the music department at a So Cal Borders with caustic wit and more estrogen then you can shake a stick at. The best part is that, even though we don’t see each other very often (and I see them the least of all) I know that they will always have my back and I will always have theirs.
  15. I really wish the damn IT guy would come load iTunes on my computer!!!!
  16. cupcakes again……
  17. my dog
  18. how my March madness bracket could have gone SO badly. However, not badly enough for me to be in last place in the work pool, where I would at LEAST get my $10 back!

Ok–that’s all. My mind has just stopped suddenly. I will now go watch the clock countdown until I will leave the office and go to the bar to play some trivia and drink some vodka…..but seriously, I do like art 🙂

The Homewrecker’s Handbook

warning: this post will contain much swearing, lot’s of “f bombs”–feel free to click away now

This goes out to all the ladies who will fuck someone’s husband. Hopefully it will help you deal with some of the “tricky” situations that may come up as a result of fucking someone’s husband.

  • Don’t get mad should the woman who’s husband you fucked (aka, his ex-wife, mother of his child, forgiving angel, etc.) be kind enough to bring over Christmas presents HER MOTHER bought for your children.  All of them, the one you had when you met her HUSBAND, the one you had as a result of FUCKING her husband, and the one she had when she was married to her husband, whom you fucked. It’s a kind gesture on behalf of you’re baby daddy’s former mother in law for the kids…it has nothing to do with you….HUSBAND FUCKER.
  • When your baby daddy, wait, let me clarify…most RECENT baby daddy, talks to his ex wife about the child they had together before you fucked her husband…don’t get angry.  Really, in general, unless she comes at you with a machete or threatens your kids, don’t get mad at her at all, for anything.  Very few things that she could do to you would be worse then FUCKING HER HUSBAND, while you were supposed to be babysitting her kid.
  • Whenever something starts to get you irritated with your most recent baby daddy’s ex-wife, remember that he hasn’t paid her a damn dime in months and that she has brought over food for you and your kids when you didn’t have money for any…..all of this after you FUCKED HER HUSBAND.
  • Say it’s a year or so after the divorce is final, you have a one year old child with this man and have set some sort of wedding date, don’t expect his ex-wife to be thrilled that you would like her to change her last name. It takes time and money. This woman, the one whose husband you fucked, has a career, a career she was building while you were fucking her husband.  She’d rather not have the name, but it is also her child’s name and she loves her child. She isn’t so hype on explaining a sudden name change due to the divorce that resulted from you fucking her husband. Let it go.

There are a ton of other things I could write down here, but I think you get the gist.  It was once said to me that in a wedding the mother of the groom should keep their mouth shut and wear beige, also a good idea for what husband fuckers should do in life.

It should be noted that the husband is as much to blame in all of the above situations as he was a party to the baby making. He also should not tell his ex-wife the ludicrous things his baby mama says, should that entice his ex-wife to show her the questionable text messages you sent her a few months ago and will save for situations just like these.

I am not a mother, an ex-wife or a husband fucker.  This was done as a public service.  Spread the word.

A Brief Accounting

Here is a brief list of my faults, issues, and confessions. There is no way in the universe that I would ever be able to list all of them, but here are the ones that seem to be causing me the most trauma lately.

  • I fear commitment
  • I fear being lonely
  • I like the wrong boys for the wrong reasons
  • I have big pores
  • I have a tendency to want people to like me so much that I don’t actually let them get to know the “real” me
  • I feel too much
  • I think too much
  • I eat chips and dip for breakfast sometimes
  • I don’t always brush my teeth twice a day
  • I wear my contacts for days on end when I am not supposed to
  • I love my pets too much
  • I REALLY love my dog too much
  • I’m self-centered
  • I can be self-destructive
  • I take insults well
  • I take compliments horribly
  • I don’t speak up for injustice because I still believe that people are doing the best they can with the information they have at the time
  • I have no tolerance for stupidity
  • When people say “Do what?” instead of “pardon me” “what was that?” or even “huh?” I want to scream
  • I bite my fingernails
  • I don’t like to clean my kitchen
  • I rarely put away my laundry
  • My good intentions outnumber my good deeds exponentially
  • I expect return phone calls
  • I have no problem sleeping with someone on the first date
  • I have dozens of pairs of shoes and handbags
  • There are 5 handbags in my possession that I have never used
  • I let my dog kiss me on the mouth (mouth closed!)
  • I’m easily entertained
  • I’m easily discouraged
  • I start lots of things that I never finish
  • I get ridiculously happy in the presence of musicians
  • I fear clowns, little people and lawn work
  • I put on a brave face when I want to cry
  • I spent so much of my life trying to not talk too loud that I now get accused of talking too softly
  • I sleep in my clothes more often then anyone with an actual home and actual pajamas should
  • I still believe in fairytales
  • If it wouldn’t make me sick I would only eat appetizers and desserts and only drink Tropicana Light Lemonade or Vodka Tonics
  • I like to get drunk….even if I sometimes fall down
  • I have a list of boys that I want to “lick from head to toe”–it’s a VERY short list and easier to get off then get on
  • I have a freakishly short tongue
  • Sometimes I would rather sit at home alone on Saturday night then go out with actual people
  • If I stay at home alone on Saturday night instead of going out with actual people, I will be pissed at myself about it on Sunday
  • I still draw on myself from time to time, but now I call it “tattoo research”
  • I want better cleavage
  • I rarely make my bed
  • I can’t find the right lipstick color
  • I need something to wear to the agency anniversary party
  • I’m more excited about the open bar at the anniversary party than Ricky Skaggs performing
  • I need a date to the anniversary party—ok, I don’t NEED one, I want one, one particular one.
  • I obsess over boys
  • I quote song lyrics a LOT!
  • I have an oral fixation
  • I want to go canoeing again, with pretty much the same exact people and a whole bucket full of new knowledge
  • I need new panties
  • I have bouts of insomnia and bouts of “whatever you call it when all you do is sleep, but not because you are depressed or physically exhausted”
  • I’m not participating in “Hands on Nashville Day” because I don’t want to be too tired to raise hell with my buddies Reckless Kelly that night
  • I still haven’t finished Harry Potter book 4 and it’s making me want to abandon the series all together
  • I’m tired of listing my faults


OK…I recently got into “Ugly Betty” and ever since seeing “Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants” have loved America Ferrera. I think she is BEAUTIFUL and funny and comfortable in her body. 

I was reading Perez Hilton–shut up, I love me some gossip–and came across this POORLY photoshopped image:

First ever “Figure Flattery Issue” huh? Why do her arms look like Stretch Armstrong’s?  Her whole shape is just wrong!!!!! She is a healthy girl, not stick figure skinny, but not overweight. She has curves. Her bones would not impale you were you to hug her. WTF Glamour????? My subscription ran out a month or so ago and this cover guarantees that it will not be renewed.


If you’re going to photoshop someone….at least do a good job. Smooth out the skintones, emphasize some cleavage. Don’t remove the curves dammit. JUST DON’T DO IT!  OK, I’m so irritated that I can no longer be at all creative with my words.

Poop on you Glamour. POOP ON YOU!

Another reason to not smoke

disclaimer: it is not that rare a sight to see me with a cigarette in my hand. If that happens I am very drunk. But in general, I don’t smoke.

So, it’s been like a bazillion degrees outside the last week or so and if for that reason alone, I would think the smokers at my office would cut back.  They haven’t.

This email went out to the whole company today:

Heads Up!  Literally – if you go out the side door to smoke, just be aware there is a bat sleeping on the ceiling of the alcove.  He’s sleeping quite sound and will not bother you, but just wanted everyone to know he’s there.  Happy Friday!!!

If this is not reason enough to not smoke, I don’t know what is.  I think bats may scare me more then lung cancer.


The 7 Deadly Sins of Canoeing

sub title: How I Spent My Saturday

Some friends and I went canoeing on the Harpeth River this weekend. It was about 100 degrees outside, the sun was shining very brightly and the majority of us had never done this before. We were pumped. Well, we were hot, and running late and verging on grumpy….but we were pumped too. One would think that a day on the river would be a lovely experience where all things done would be for the good, not the bad. Well, stick with my friends and I and we’ll show you how you can commit each of the Seven Deadly Sins in a 24 hour period.

Pride: We were so proud that we didn’t fall into the water trying to get into the canoe from the ramp, like others in our group had. We were proud of how well we were working together, even though only one of us had ever canoed before and it was on a pond. We were proud of only running into the bank a couple of times. We were proud that we were in the lead for a good portion of the day and there wasn’t a penis in our boat. We were proud that we hadn’t turned over at all….until we got some “help” from a couple of the fellas and got dumped out in one quick move.

Greed: Our greed came right along with our pride. We felt as though we had some of the most talent on the river for awhile. We hogged the coolness of our group. We held on to all the beauty of the group. We had the only camera and the only bottles of water….although beer was a more coveted beverage.

Envy: The lovely ladies that I was sharing a canoe with and myself were envious of anyone who didn’t have to walk their canoes in knee deep water for nearly a mile due to the canoe being nearly completely filled with water. We were envious of everyone who could actually turn a canoe full of water over to empty it and then bring it back upright. We were envious of people who didn’t fall out of the canoe more times then we kept track of.

Rage: Pretty quickly into the walking portion of our canoeing trip, rage set in. We were completely pissed that no one had waited for us to make sure we were ok. We were so angry that there was no one would could dump our boat over to get the water out. I was angry at my lack of physical strength and the speed at which I was fading in energy. We were enraged at not having any drinking water. We were enraged at the redneck boys who floated by and just grinned. We were, in general, enraged.

Lust: Well, if I’m around, lust is always a factor. I don’t actually like this term in regards to this part of the trip, but it’ll work. Without there being any sexual aspect to this, we were lusting after the two fine fellas who actually had waited for us, a LONG way down the river. These lovely gentlemen paddled upriver a good quarter mile and saved us. They dumped our boat out, they split up so we would have someone with us who had upper body strength and they never once made fun of us, to our faces, about the predicament.

Gluttony: What do you do after a canoeing trip that had left you battered and bruised and physically exhausted? You go out to dinner, then go to a bar and stay there until it closes of course. You drink copious amounts of alcohol, have conversations that leave your stomach hurting and gasping for air from laughing so much. You enjoy the best things there are in life, which are friends who can see you sweaty and covered in river water and angry from head to toe…and still enjoy your company. If this type of gluttony is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

Sloth: I cannot speak for anyone else that went canoeing yesterday, but today I have done nothing. I have bruises on my legs that give me a new sympathy for Nancy Kerrigan. I have a bruise on the top of my foot that is a total mystery. I have bruises on the arches of my feet from the rocks that got caught in my shoes. I have strained thigh muscles from a “graceful” exit of the canoe which resulted in me doing the splits. All of these things have me walking a little slower then normal and taking more naps then my cats.

So there you have it!

  • 1 canoe trip
  • 10 people
  • 4 canoes
  • 3 angry girls
  • dozens of bruises
  • dozens of drinks
  • 7 deadly sins
  • 1 twenty four hour period



It has been said that confession is good for the soul. So until some university gets a bazillion dollars to study this and prove it wrong (while people are dying of diseases and such) I will stick with random confessions.

For the record, my idea of a confession is to tell the world (or whoever will listen) about things that either I am not proud of, am afraid of, or simply don’t make me very cool.  (In general I don’t know that I am very cool, so in theory everything I say is a confession?  oh hell, I’m rambling now).

My confessions for August 1, 2007:

  1. I enjoy massive disasters.  Well, I don’t know that enjoy is the right word. I become obsessed with the terrible things that happen in this world.  Perfect example; the bridge that collapsed in Minneapolis today.  I saw the headline on msnbc.com and I felt my heart race.  I ran into the living room and turned on the TV.  I watched for a good hour, the same footage, over and over. When the Oklahoma City Bombing happened, I took a day off work.  Granted, I used to live there and had friends downtown, etc….but still.  September 11, don’t even get me started!  I think it’s an illness.  I tell myself that it is like walking around when you have a cramp in your calf, it hurts a lot at first, but then it gets sort of numb.  Perhaps I think that if I watch all the horrible things that go on in the world, I will be more prepared when something happens to me, or maybe I will just have a better perspective on things?  Who knows.
  2. Sometimes I think I want to be a redneck.  Wait…that sounds weird.  Ok…bottom line, I find myself attracted to redneck boys.  There.  I like the truck driving, beer drinking, stripper bar going,boob obsessed, questionably educated, loud, harsh country boys.  I can’t get enough of them sometimes. I know there is no sort of relationship to be had, I am way too bourgeoisie —-yep, I’m uppity too.  But the thought of being curled up next to a warm boy who smells of beer and cigarettes in the bed of his truck in the middle of nowhere and not giving a shit that there is a gun rack in the cab or that he very well might have voted for W (if he voted at all) seems nice. We wouldn’t be bogged down with conversation, just lots of making out, etc…..
  3. I bought 3 boxes of cereal at the grocery store today.  I did this knowing full well that I had 4 boxes in the cupboard at home.
  4. I’m obsessed with myspace.  Yep, I’m a tad too old.  Yep, I’m a total voyeur. But come on now, how flippin’ awesome is it to be able to see how groups of friends overlap?  How about musical tastes….important things to find out about people.  The random layouts and shit that people put on their profiles….VERY informative.  Being able to look at pictures of people you kind of know or want to know better…HELL YEAH!  It’s kind of a good thing that I don’t have access to it at work….I can look up porn, but not myspace….since I would waste even more ridiculous amounts of time on it. I do, however, sometimes wish, that I had myspace friends who would leave me nasty pictures or questionable humor comments.  It goes back to my not so secret love for the rednecks I guess.
  5. I can eat almost a full bag of reduced fat Ruffles (they aren’t as greasy and are more ‘potato-y’, it’s not a health thing) and a full container of Publix’s Black Bean Cheddar dip within 24 hours.  Hell, who am I kidding, 12 hours!  I will eat it for “dinner” and then “breakfast.”  I’m sick, truly sick…..
  6. I check my blog stats a million times a day.  Ok, that’s an exaggeration ( I exaggerate also!) But I check them alot!  I also check on blogs that I make comments on to see if there has been a response to a comment I’ve made.  For example, I made a comment on a blog today of a person that I am FREAKISHLY fond of and their response, which was 4 letters and an emoticon…made me smile so hard for so long that my cheeks hurt. Yes, I need constant reassurance, but it really takes so so little 🙂

OK–that’s all the confessing I have in me for today.  I’m tired.  I need to go read some more Harry Potter and my dog just rolled off the bed in his sleep.  Should be an interesting night 🙂

Dehydration is imminent

We had a bit of an issue in the office yesterday.  Apparently the sewer line backed up into the water lines.  Infiltrating the ice maker, the refrigerator and God knows what else.  The upstairs bathrooms (which are right across from my office) were rendered out of order.  It was chaos.  Stinky, horrible, smelly, gross chaos.

The smell is gone now….but the results linger.  The bathrooms are back working….but there is great fear of the water supply.  No one is touching the ice maker.  People are putting their coffee in the microwave in hopes of killing anything that might be looming. We’re all a little on edge.

Now the thrist is attacking me.  I didn’t even think to bring water.  Or even a Fresca.  It looks like I will be taking a trip to the vending machine in hopes that the Diet Dr Pepper (the answer to one of the FEW trivia questions we got right last night) will quench my thirst until I can get to the Puffy Muffin and make myself sick on Ginger Tea.

Thank God it’s Friday…….