Author: Robyn

Oh, that’s right, I said to myself. Yesterday was the 28th, so today’s the 29th. April 29th. Hm. April 29th, yep, it sure is. 29th of April… (long pause) HOLY GOD IN HEAVEN, IT’S MOM’S BIRTHDAY TODAY! I probably don’t need to tell you that I completely forgot that her birthday was coming up. I don’t think it’s so much as crossed my mind for an instant since sometime in March, when I said to myself, Mom’s birthday is next, on April 29th. Oh, I’ve got ages and ages yet before I need to worry about that! Thank god for FTD. Once I got home, I sat right down at the computer and sent her a rather large arrangement of flowers. I made the deadline, so they should get there today. I hope. I also sent her an online card from the three of us, so that should do it. Over the past few years, I’ve gotten to the point where I just send her flowers and maybe chocolates for her birthday, because I can’t think of anything else she’d like. Debbie, on the other hand, I could buy something for every day and never run out of things to buy. She’s the easiest person in the world to buy for, aside from the spud, but when it comes to anyone else, there’s just a big question mark over my head. Even Fred is hard to buy for sometimes. I’m sure when the flowers arrive this afternoon, Mom will roll her eyes and say "Oh, how original. FLOWERS." So Fred and I are thinking about taking a 3-day weekend trip to Destin, Florida the weekend after the spud is done with school (her last day of school is May 18th, can you believe that???) He and I went to the Destin area three summers ago, and it was great except for the fact that we went on the 4th of July weekend. Could we have been any dumber? I don’t think so! There were a bunch of rowdy college boys staying in our hotel, and the day we left, I went down to the beach to get a jar of ocean water and a jar of sand, and while I was on the beach about ten of them crowded around the boardwalk you had to walk up to get back to the hotel, and just sat there and shot the shit. I waited and waited for them to leave, but after about half an hour, I sucked it up and walked past them. They didn’t say anything, but I could feel them looking at me, and I wanted to smack them upside their tanned, toned heads. Even now, Fred and I talk about that, and we refer to it as my "Walking the gauntlet." I know, we’re total drama queens, aren’t we? I hope we do end up going to Florida, instead of just talking about it and deciding not to go, the way we usually do. I’m feeling a craving for shrimp and raw oysters… —–]]>

teevee.org? It’s usually pretty humorous, but this week is "TV Turn-off Week," and so they’re writing about anything but TV. James Collier is particularly funny this week. Go read this one, this one, and this one. Go on, now, I’ll wait here. Okay, that was kind of a gyp because you’re probably expecting more of an entry, but I’m going to duck out of here and go watch Fred flip channels while I finish reading last month’s Cosmo. Have a good weekend! —–]]>

oooh and ahhhh. Hey, what can I say? I live to please you, my beloved readers. —–]]>

are incredibly scintillating and fascinating, why do you ask?). I mentioned that every morning, if I’m laying on my stomach when the kitten is wanting some Mommy love, she takes her ice-cold paw and pats my side until I wake up and turn over onto my side. "What does she do then?" Fred asked, trying to sound interested. "She flops down so I’ll rub her tummy," I said. "She used to climb up on me and lay like a muffler, but she doesn’t do that anymore." There was a long, long silence while he thought about it. "Um… you mean, she lies on your butt to muffle your farts?" he ventured. Aghast, I partially sat up and stared at him. "NO," I half-yelled. "Like a MUFFLER, a SCARF." "OH!" he said, laughing. "That’s a YANKEE word." He always blames it on my being a Yankee if he misunderstands something I say. I tried to get the kitten to come with me to run errands this morning – hey, other people take their dogs with them, why not take a cat? – but I couldn’t get her into the garage come hell or high water. I guess she remembers that every time I carry her into the garage (though it’s always been in a carrier) someone ends up sticking something up her butt. I guess I wouldn’t be a big fan of the garage in that case, either. —–]]>

DEAD!" he said in a faux-hysterical tone (for reference, click here). I guess you had to be there – trust me, it was funny. I only had one Coke yesterday, and as a result, I’m going through caffeine withdrawal, which means my body’s not happy. Between the nausea and the on-and-off headache, I’m a thrill to be around right now. Poor, poor me. —–]]>

The Bold and the Beautiful (god, I loathe that Macy!)(and Eric, that smug, self-righteous asshole) and the last two episodes of Once and Again. I lolled in bed this morning and watched what I hadn’t finished last night, then wandered around the house, did some laundry, took a shower, checked my email, and took a call from Rachel, who said she didn’t think I needed to come in unless I really wanted to. "No, no, that’s okay, if you don’t need me, I’ll just stay home," I sobbed hysterically (just kidding). Fred hadn’t taken his lunch to work with him, though, and I had a bunch of errands to run, so I ran them and dropped off his lunch. Rachel’s completely changed her office around – in fact, it looks the way I would have arranged it if I’d thought of it. Before, the desk was facing the window, and anyone who came to the door could immediately see what was on the monitor. Now, she moved the desk so it’s facing the door, and you can’t see what’s on her monitor unless you go around her desk. Smart girl! Upon reading Beth this morning, I learned that a very popular journaller wrote an "astoundingly cruel" entry over the weekend, and I’m dying to know who it is and what they said. Anyone know? Please tell me. I’m the nosiest person in the world, and I really want to know what’s going on. Because, of course, I have no life. On the other hand, I’m so completely clueless that I probably read the offending journal entry, and it went right over my head. So, after I left the office I went to Sam’s. As usual, Sam’s was pretty well packed, and I had to maneuver around people a lot, since THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLE IS APPARENTLY WHERE YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO COME TO A DEAD STOP AND STARE, WITH GLAZED EYES, AT THE 145 POUND CANS OF KETCHUP, JUST STANDING THERE AND STARING WHILE ACTING DEAF WHEN THE POOR BITCHYPOO BEHIND YOU MEEKLY SAYS "EXCUSE ME! EXCUSE ME!" I was proud of myself at Sam’s, because not only did I pass up the three books they had that I REALLY want to read, but I didn’t buy any junk food or unnecessary items. Purchased at Sam’s: chlorine tablets for the pool, shock for the pool, 2 8-packs of Fred’s nondairy creamer, 2 6-packs of paper towels, and a pack of 14 dish sponges. $170, gone gone gone, just like that. Of course, the chlorine will last us for the majority of the summer, and the creamer will take a couple of months for Fred to use… Eh. I just can’t be trusted at Sam’s. I look at the huge boxes of cereal and think "I won’t have to buy more cereal for another month!", then I buy the cereal and the spud gets tired of it after three days. But I can’t help myself – I am powerless against the lure of multi-box packs of cheerios and 240-tab bottles of electrasol. Powerless, I say! I need to go order flowers for the new office manager for "Administrative Professional’s Day" (renamed, I assume, because some people think "Secretary" is insulting). Fred told the other bosses that they didn’t need to get anything for me, because I wasn’t expecting anything. Now I feel like I can’t throw a temper tantrum and scream "I was too! I was too expecting something! I want my flowers!" Have I mentioned that I’m just a big baby? —–]]>

From Fred, first thing this morning: "Bessie, you should turn on the news. The Republicans are grandstanding on the Elian situation. Apparently I’ve become a Democrat without my knowledge." Now he’s talking to the spud, trying to explain the whole thing to her. It doesn’t sound like she’s quite getting it. The Miami relatives are described as being "beside themselves with grief." Good. They fucking well should be. It was fun and games for weeks while they were in control of Elian, and now that he’s with his father and HAPPY, they just can’t stand it, can they? Assholes. God, it makes me so freakin’ mad. I probably shouldn’t personalize it the way I do – all I can imagine is being in Juan Gonzalez’ place, with someone keeping the spud from me, and I honestly can’t imagine how the poor man hasn’t taken to a tower with a rifle. Okay, I’ll shut up about Elian for now. I’m sure I’m boring the bejezus out of y’all. It’s so rare that I take any kind of interest in anything going on in the world today! So Fred was in charge of renting movies this week, and as always when he’s off to the movie store I say "Look for something I want to watch!" Thus, each weekend he and the spud watch three crappy movies (one each day, including Friday) and I end up watching one or two movies only I wish to see. This week, Boys Don’t Cry came out, and I hoped fervently he’d be able to rent it for me, though I wasn’t holding my breath. After he got back from the movie store, we were laying on the bed talking (not a euphemism for sex) and I asked what he’d rented for me. After much verbal dancing around – my god, the boy does like to drag things out – he told me he’d rented Eyes Wide Shut for me. "Um. Why?" I said, confused. "I thought you wanted to see it!" he said. "Um. Noooooo, I told you I had no desire to see it!" I told him. "Oh," he said. "Well, I got Boys Don’t Cry, too!" So last night, he disappeared down to the computer room while I watched Eyes Wide Shut. I had no real desire to see it, since the vehement distaste of other journallers for the movie pretty much warned me off. However, since he’d rented the movie, I figured I could just fast forward through the movie and only watch the naked parts. Because, I mean, naked people are naked people, but how often do you get to see FAMOUS people naked? Sadly, the majority of the nakedness was women. This saddens me, as I had hoped to see Tom Cruise’s penis, so I could pause the movie and look closely at it. Really, how often do you see famous penii? But unless I missed something – by the time I got to the orgy scene I was only half paying attention, the other half of my attention being focused on an old People magazine – there was not a naked penis to be seen. I saw plenty of Nicole Kidman’s bare ass, though, and who could blame her? If I had a body like that, you’d have one hell of a time keeping clothes on me. Later today, I’ll be watching Boys Don’t Cry, and I can’t wait. I would have gone to see it in the theater, but it never played in any of the six theaters in the area, which I can only attribute to the fact that I’m smack in the middle of the Bible Belt. Friday night/ early Saturday morning, I had a dream that makes me think I’m sublimating my real feelings about leaving DI. In the dream, I was sitting at a desk in front of a computer, and a woman – in the dream, I knew she was working for a moving company – kept coming in and taking parts of the computer and walking out of the room with them. Standing across the room watching dispassionately was a man I knew to be my husband (not Fred). He and I made small talk, and all the while I fought back tears and tried to force myself to say "Ask me to stay. All you have to do is ask me to stay, and I will." I couldn’t force the words, though, and I woke up dry-sobbing with my heart pounding. I don’t think I need someone to analyze that one, do you? Ah, the house is alive with the smells of that hardboiled egg fart smell. Devilled eggs rock. Beneath that smell is the smell of turkey cooking – we’re having turkey instead of ham, since I’m not a ham fan – and I hear Fred rustling around in the kitchen cleaning up before he begins making squash casserole and stuffing to go with our meal. Dinnertime is around 1, central time. Y’all stop by if you’re in the area (and you know I’d shit a brick if anyone actually stopped by!)

Happy Easter if you celebrate it. Happy Sunday, otherwise.

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smiling. I hope this whole thing just goes away; I’m sooooo sick of hearing about it, and of course the more I hear about it, the more pissed I become. I will say this, though: why’re they waving all the cuban flags? Aren’t they, um, AMERICANS? So, welcome to my new subscribers! Two new ones today and one yesterday brings the total up to 31! That means, aside from myself, there are 30 people in this world who are sitting on the edge of their seat waiting for the next nugget of wisdom to come from the brain o’ bitchypoo. 30 people waiting anxiously for me to update. 30 people, sitting there, thinking to themselves "I wonder what Robyn’s doing right now?" Man, too much pressure. Is it about time to stop my journal? 🙂 Just kidding, of course. Mostly. Anyway. So yesterday was my last "official" day at work, though as I’ve mentioned I’ll be going in every day next week for a few hours each day. And on Friday, there’ll be some sort of going-away party for me, which is as it should be. I don’t care to be the center of attention much, but I have been at that company for 3 years and much as I may have been a lazy-ass do-nothing kind of office manager, it’s only right that they pay homage to me and give me presents. Have I mentioned that the world revolves around me? So early this morning as I was ready to walk out the door to get groceries, Fred called down to me: "Bessie?" in his you-did-something-wrong tone. "Yes?" I responded. "Did you get me any creamer this week?" Shiiiiit. There’s only one kind of creamer he likes, and I’ve only been able to find it at Office Depot, and Sam’s. All week long, I’ve been swearing I’d stop at Office Depot and pick some up, since he was all but out, and naturally I forgot. I’d forget my head if it weren’t stapled on. Tense negotiations ensued. I offered to pick up a different kind of creamer at the grocery store to get him through the weekend. I offered to get groceries, drop them off, and go to Office Depot when it opened at 9. He didn’t want to wait. Finally, we decided I’d run to the office, since they use the same creamer there, and borrow a container of it, which we’d pay back Monday when I actually got off my ass and went to Office Depot or Sam’s. So I hopped in the Jeep and headed for the office. Rachel had mentioned earlier this week that she’d be in to work over the weekend to make up the time she missed by leaving early Friday, so I didn’t consider it a problem that I didn’t have a key to the office (I gave it to her). Naturally, she wasn’t there. I called Fred on the cellphone and told him of the situation, which he found humorous. Finally, he agreed to make do with Cremora through the weekend. So I went off to Publix to get groceries. I hadn’t picked up anything for the spud for Easter, and most of the Easter baskets, candy, and toys were half price, so I loaded up. Yes, I’m an awful last-minute-shopping Mommy. I got into a conversation with a lady who worked there, and later she found me to ask if I wanted a big stuffed bunny which had been marked down to $1.50. Naturally this was a bargain I could NOT pass up. And naturally I ended up paying MUCH more than I’d expected or wanted to pay for a week’s worth of groceries. As usual. So we’re having a turkey for Easter dinner, since I am not a big fan of ham, and it will only be the spud, Fred, and I for dinner. It should be an excellent meal, so long as Fred makes the devilled eggs. May the Easter Bunny bring y’all lots of treats! —–]]>

half.com order, I received my last two books. I’m very very pleased at the condition of the books I’ve received in this order, as well as the prices I paid. Half.com definitely has my business from here on out – except for the Harry Potter, Janet Evanovich, and Sue Grafton books, which I can’t possibly wait for (for which I can’t possibly wait, that is). Being the incredibly NICE gal (ha!) that I am, I agreed to come in for a couple of hours each day next week, because Rachel’s not quite confident enough that Quickbooks is the way it should be to go it alone, she told me. So tomorrow is my official last day, but I’ll be there each day next week, and then on the 1st of May I’ll be there most of the day as she does all the first of the month reports and hands out paychecks. Just when I think I’m almost home-free, the sticky tentacles of the office reach out and suck me back into the fold… —–]]>