Kalshane, you should have told them Dave's Not Here.

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I just head that the most stolen car is the '95 Honda Civic. My car is a '94 Honda Civic.

So is mine. And I'm using the present tense extremely loosely.

Anyhoo. Just got back to the office after my excursion to Chelsea (thanks to a friend, I had a car to drive there and back; otherwise it would have been much much worse getting out there, and it sucked moose balls as it was). There's just enough damage that it's definitely going to cost more than I paid for the car to get it fixed. What I paid for it and what it's worth are probably not the same though. The kicker is, there's just little enough damage that it would feel like adding insult to injury to just junk it, among other reasons because I know whoever took it in would make close to what I paid for it originally on the parts. So I'm getting an estimate - we'll see.

The worst part? I'm paying no matter what happens, because Chelsea contracts out it's towing and stuff, so I have to pay for the towing. In other words, I'm paying for the privelage of getting my car stolen.

Oh well, it will all be resolved one way or the other with a minimum of fuss, if not money.

2005 can go shove its head up its own rectum, however.

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I'm sorry to hear you're going through all that, Franken. A friend just told me about that paying for towing thing, too. That really goddamned sucks.

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I just sliced open my thumb. On a shrimp. I feel the world is just MacGyvering things to fuck with me by now.

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ouch! Poor you!

I found this guy on flickr who had a shot of the caroling truck. As I scrolled through his pictures I found this: [link] COOL! top seekrit super special DVD players!

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I'm done with things-outdoors-that-need-be-done. Assessment for bio feedback, check, acupuncture, check, comics, check, library, check.

I've also called my PT to assure him I'm not dead.

I only have one more call to make, and then...well, lie down, probably. Which is a shame, because the day outside is beautiful. I will open the shades.

Cass, I know I shouldn't laugh, so I won't because I don't need the bad karma. Sometimes you just have to throw your hands up in the air, either from exasperation or to elevate the injuries.

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I know I shouldn't laugh, so I won't because I don't need the bad karma. Sometimes you just have to throw your hands up in the air, either from exasperation or to elevate the injuries.

I'm pretty sure that this pain is mockable and bad karmafree. The bleeding seems to have stopped.

What is making me roll my eyes forever is that I am making dinner for eight at my parent's house tonight. It's my stepmom's birthday. She requested pasta alfredo with grilled ... shrimp.

I left the groceries there yesterday and no one is answering the phone to tell me if I bought shelled or not. Not that it likely matters, it was a tail that just cut me.

Anya's world without shrimp is looking pretty good right about now.

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Kat, did UPS ever stop being irritating?

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Happily I've avoided major catastrophies today, though retrieving my pre-cooked turkey from Kroger ended up being being an episode of I Love Lucy:

• frozen pre-cooked turkeys did not arrive at the supermarket, so their deli staff had to cook 20 from scratch today - turkey ready 1 hour 45 minutes after I was supposed to pick it up
• sudden gust of wind blew up as I was leaving the store, making off with my receipt, the bag my roasting pan was in, and very nearly the roasting pan itself
• neighbor with hyper jumpy rotweiller and giant poodle choses the exact moment I'm getting the turkey out of my car to walk them in our parking lot, with predictable results
• apparently terrified of dogs, turkey lets loose with a stream of warmish liquid as I'm carrying it up the back stairs, soaking me to the skin (thank God I thought better of wearing a dress shirt today!)
• upon opening box I discover that turkey is wrapped in 4 layers of aluminum foil, 2 concentric plastic bags, 4 more layers of aluminum foil, 2 more concentric plastic bags, and a final 2 layers of foil, thus doubling its overall weight and volume. This thing must have been under pressure like Mt. Saint Helens to force any liquid out through all that swaddling!
• when core of actual turkey is finally revealed, it is not unlike a pasty boiled chicken in appearance, as multiple layers of protection apparently prevented it from rising much past room temperature despite being in a roaster oven all day. Plans amended from 90 minutes of extra cooking to 3 1/2 hours to achieve crispy brown skin.

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Clearly the ghost of the shrimp is fucking with you. Impressive shrimp.

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