Misery is expected to peak on Monday, as 24 January has been pinpointed as the worst day of the year.

Luckily, my court date isn't until Tueday.

Steph! Here's another job listing for you.

Tom, you funny. You funny funny man.

He will be serenaded during the event by a rendition of "Let the Eagle Soar," a composition by the amateur songwriter and Attorney General John Ashcroft, that praises, "only God, no other kings."

Dude, I was making a joke.

Well, I'm being a bitch TODAY.

Annoyed with coworker. I hauled ass in early to spend morning in meetings and reported back, and he said he would go to the afternoon ones and report back, since they covered more his stuff. He didn't.

And someone JUST asked him about stuff he would know if he had attended. But he doesn't. And I just had to point it out.

Dude, I was making a joke.

Back! Back to your castle! Evil prophet!

I'm already thoroughly sick of "God Bless America." It's being played approximately every three seconds. We need a new theme song before my head explodes.

I know, what a horrible choice for a national anthem.

Oh, wait.... IT'S NOT OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM!

It's just become our ipso facto national anthem.

Thanks, Matt.

I was always assumed to be whomever I was babysitting's mother. Always. And I didn't get just the sad look, I got people actually coming up to talk to me about my children. The worst time, though, was when someone though I was my brother's mother. I was ELEVEN. He was EIGHT. So wrong. And when I was fifteen, and daily babysitting for a two month old, and we'd be at the zoo, when someone asked me if she was my first, I finally just started saying that no, she was my seventh, and I have six kids that are back at home. It makes the mistaken thing more fun.

For some reason, it doesn't bother me when people assume that I'm dating my uncle. Probably because I figure they must also assume that there's some sort of sugar daddy relationship, and I enjoy leading the imaginary double life where I'm suddenly rich and greedy. It entertains me. And it really never bothers me when people assume my mom is my sister, which people do all the time. Mostly because, that is the lady whose aging genes I have, and if she's looking young for a very long time, all the better for me. And it makes her feel good, too. And that's nice.

I really like Kat's reading criteria.

I also really like Cindy's son's teacher. That's awesome. I always had teachers confiscating my books, because they thought I should be playing more in my free time. People like your son's teacher should be given awards.

Also, msbelle's event sounds fun.

That's not a bitch sara, that is normal reaction to an asshole.

I hate not being able to find receipts for my work reimbursements. Reimbursement total so far $202.10. awesome.

Eh, I don't mind the song in general (I mean, I'm not CRAZY about the "YAY GOD!"-ness of it all, but since our actual anthem is all "YAY WAR!" it's hard to get really worked up about it.)

I just don't need to hear the "stand beside her / and guide her" phrase played OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

It's VERY ANNOYING, and I think the Minister of Kill the Stupid People should step up and do his job, which right now is killing the people involved with picking the music for the inaugural orchestra because they're stupid.

My problem with "God Bless America" isn't so much the GodYay -- it's the bombast. It seems to leave people thinking the title is a command, not a plea.