Jilli, we'll be swinging by at some point after. I have the bag I was intending to take to S&B before I, umm, fell asleep at 8:15 Monday night.

Oh right, that. Well, okay then. I'll make sure to set aside cranberry sauce for you.

I think I'll just have to see if I can't judge by holding the dress up to the computer. I also think Charlotte Russe at the mall has a white shrug or cape or something should the Newport News one clash horribly.

Huh. So, remember that question I asked on Monday, about the thing with vaction time and checks and that the universe didn't work the way I was hoping it did? I heard back from Payroll. I'm apparently a silly-head, and that they didn't make any mistake, and they haven't payed me twice for my vacation hours.

Oooo-kaaaay. I printed out that email, and it's going to be put with the bank statements when I get home. Just in case.

Man, every time I think I have no more room in me to hate Hec's boss, she does some totally new fucky thing and behold! I find another square mile or so of hate-space within me. Fucking cowhole.

Ditto juliana's enormo-document-demanding bosses.

A Thanksgiving poem just for Jilli (Google is giving me no love, but IIRC, the author is Eve Merriam):

There once was a finicky ocelot
Who all the year 'round was cross a lot
Except at Thanksgiving,
When he enjoyed living,
For he liked to eat cranberry sauce a lot.

Hec and I had an intense not-quite-angry discussion about this poem a few weeks ago: IMO it's a limerick, but he was very heated in his insistence that the first poems which defined the form were not only dependent on a particular meter and rhyme scheme, but very, very dirty, and that a poem that isn't dirty cannot be a limerick.

In any case, it's a poem of undetermined type but definitively about an exotic mammal and special occasion food, so it seemed appropriate just now.

Also, in the Department of Total Random, I've spent most of this morning wandering through the archives of a blog called Slacktivist, which devotes its Friday posts to consideration and mockery of the Left Behind books. Usually the excerpts are just kind of dull and self-important and full of crappy pseudo-theology that doesn't bear examination, but this passage totally entranced me with its incredibly wretched fake-English badness. It's shitty dialect ineptitude to the power of a brazilian:

"Well, I get right down to business. I tell him, 'Sir, I believe you've had an employee murdered.' And just as calm as you like, he says, 'Tell you what, governor' -- which is a term cockneys use on each other, not something people of his station usually call people of mine. Anyway, he says, 'Tell you what, governor, the next time somebody visits your flat at ten o'clock at night, as a certain gentleman did last night, greet him for me, won't you?"

"What did you say?"

"What could I say? I was stunned to silence!"

The only thing that could make it more deliciously awful would be the sudden appearance of a kprinkling cocksickle saying "Pip pip, old boy!"

Oh,my God. Pray my muses never saw that, because they'll be blinded. "Christians" can never write The Bad Guys you know because they can't deal with the whole Pembleton dialectic. "Virtue isn't real virtue until it slams up against vice." --God's Detective

Okay, you anti-gravy people are officially INSANE. Gravy is delicious! It's a scientific fact!

What the pretty girl with the blue hair said.

juliana's bosses are fuckos. I'm willing to work out a Strangers On A Train trade with her and the police will never figure out the violent and bloody murders.

My work continues to blow chunks, bite cock and suck ass and I will fully spork the next person that walks in my door.

Least. Relaxing. Workday. Before. A. Holiday Ever.

Aimee, you are wrong like a wrong thing, you weird cranberry hater. You and Paul both. And he doesn't even like the dried ones.

I love Paul!!!

If I ate the entire apple pie cheesecake I just took out of the oven, that would be a bad thing, right? Because OMGPIECAKESMELLSSOGOOD.

Don't like cranberries, but I know I have 400 food squicks. Hec, babe, drive out to Oakland and dump the spork. Promise? And don't take any trophies.

Dinner plan. We won't have dinner until after 6 because MIL is working.

For munching during the day and football: Deviled eggs, Tomato & Mozzarella plate (w dijon vinaigrette), Tortilla chips and salsa, Shelled and unshelled nuts

Dinner: Various olives, celery and stuff, Pumpkin soup, Jellied cranberries with can ridges intact, Whole Cranberry relish, Turkey, Dressing with pepperoni, salami, cheese, and stuff, Dressing with wild rice, spinach, and stuff, Sweet potatoes mashed, White potatoes mashed, Baby brussel sprouts, Noodle pudding, Crescent rolls

Dessert: Reese's peanut butter pie, Butter tarts, Unknown pies from visitors

I think there will be a dozen people. It wouldn't surprise me if there were a few more. Last minute people happen. Yay! I love big meals.

eta commas