First, the obligatory news randomness for the day.
Britney Spears has been charged with hit-and-run almost a month after she hit someone’s car, got out of her car to inspect the damage on her own car ONLY, then walked away. I’m curious as to why it took so long for her to be charged. Maybe they made the decision to charge her after seeing her shitty performance at MTV’s Music Video Awards.
In the NFL yesterday, Denver (who can only win ugly so many times) lost to a very good Jacksonville team, the Giants won against a pretty decent Redskins team wearing gag-me-ugly throwback uniforms, Brett Favre tied Dan Marino for most TD passes in a lifetime, and Philadelphia scored 56 points against a Detroit team that couldn’t get past Phillie’s disgusting throwback uniforms.
Have you ever REALLY looked at NASCAR for what it is? A bunch of (mostly) men, going around in circles, making only left-hand turns. Take yesterday for example. You’ve got 43 cars going around in circles and the LAST PLACE person still “wins” almost $65,000. Also, how in the HELL can you call this a “sport?” Where’s the athleticism? The speed and strength? Heck, I’m going to get my 4-cylinder RAV4 painted with a number and get it entered into the NASCAR circuit. I’ll rev the engine, hit the gas at the gun, then drive as fast as that little 4-banger will take me to the pit where I’ll sit for the rest of the race, laughing my ass off at the rest of the fools wasting gas, tires, money and whatever else to go round and round and round when they could just sit and collect $65,000. Sort of like being a back-up quarterback to someone like Ben Roethlisberger. No pain, no hits, no boos or jeers from the crowd, all you gotta do is suit up, sit the bench, and collect the check. Works for me.
Our local high school football team dropped in state rankings from #2 to #8 but still remain undefeated, outscoring their opponents by an average of 25 points per game. Makes me wonder just how good the top 7 teams are, if ours is this good!
We spent Saturday putting in a new vinyl tile floor for a co-worker. She and her husband were out of town for their anniversary so it was a good time for the work to get done. When she did the estimate, Lisa figured with such a small room (kitchen) we could do it in half a day. On the way home after the job I advised her that, the next time she does an estimate for a floor, she needs to build in an additional 2 hours at least if there’s a lot of cutting that needs to be done around doorways, cabinets and other stationary items.
We got there at 9:00 AM Saturday morning. At 1:00 we decided we’d better get something to eat because we were both getting hungry and still had about a quarter of the floor to do. By the time we got home at 9:20 that night, I wasn’t even hungry for dinner. I was tired, sore, cranky, and just wanted a hot shower, some Blue Stop on my tired and aching muscles, and my bed.
The floor looks great, but there was a LOT of intricate cutting that took loads and loads of time to measure, measure again, cut, measure, dry fit, measure some more, cut some more, etc.
The next time Lisa tells me “We’ll be home by noon” for a job, I’m packing a lunch and an overnight bag.
Pictures in the next day or so.
Mary (our neighbor) has been suspended from work. She’s scared shitless (and who wouldn’t be) that she’s going to be fired. She’s 59 years old, can’t retire, and is most likely too old to be finding anything with a meaningful paycheck.
Her boss told her that she was being suspended because she is racially biased, specifically, against Jews and Hispanics. A young girl who began working in Mary’s office just 3 weeks ago is apparently the source of this “information,” according to Mary’s boss.
I told her to march her ass back into her boss and tell him that not only are the accusations untrue but that she stood up for a couple of dykes for their wedding, one of whom has a last name of Golden and the other Martinez. That should dispel any doubt. (Of course, Lisa and I are both mostly of Irish descent, but the names sure as hell don’t give that away.)
I was foggy as hell this morning. Mentally, I mean.
I got up late. I hate that because it sort of sets your tone for the whole day anyway. But my philosophy is, “I’m already late — 10 minutes or 20 just doesn’t matter now.” So I refuse to rush around when I’m late like that.
I managed to get to the bathroom and get my shower. I even managed to get toweled off and a brush through my wet hair. I caught myself with my toothbrush in my right hand and the deoderant in the left. I’m not sure if I was ready to brush my teeth with deoderant or if I was ready to brush deoderant through the stubble under my arms that I’d had no time to shave this morning.
I couldn’t find my shoes. The last time I’d seen them they were in Lisa’s truck after I took them off during the flooring job. But Lisa cleaned out her truck yesterday so where in the hell did I put them? I looked and looked and finally found them in the kitchen next to the microwave rack.
I couldn’t find my keys. The last time I’d seen them they, too, had been in Lisa’s truck after the flooring job. I usually drop them in a dish right inside the door, but they weren’t there. They weren’t on the end table on my side of the couch, nor on the kitchen counter where I sometimes drop them. Not on the computer table. Not on the valet in the bedroom. Lisa kept insisting they were on the kitchen counter but HERS were there. Finally, I spied them. Laying on an envelope across the top of the toaster. Now why didn’t I think to look on the toaster for my keys in the first place?
I carefully maneuvered my RAV4 around Lisa’s truck, then Joe’s Blazer and left for work. Just as I was about to get onto the expressway, I realized I’d forgotten my coffee. There is no way in this life or the next I’m going to go to work with the assholes that I have to deal with, without my coffee. I called Lisa (who was still at home), and told her I’d forgotten my coffee. “OH MY GOD!” she exclaimed. Yeah. I felt the same way. I turned around, went back home, and Lisa met me with my travel mug.
I managed to get to the parking lot at work without any incident, thank the goddess. I picked up my cell phone, grabbed my bag and coffee mug and, as I was exiting the vehicle, saw an envelope on the floor. It was my worker’s comp mileage claim information that I needed to submit today. With said coffee mug in hand, I proceeded to BEND OVER to retrieve the envelope, pouring coffee down the front of my shirt.
I’m terrified of the trip home.