I called Teacup Guy last night and told him I wasn't feeling good. His reply was, "Why don't I bring a bottle of champagne for no reason? Oh, wait, it can be for solstice." Love him.

{{{Aimee's friend}}}

Cashmere, how are you feeling?

I called Teacup Guy last night and told him I wasn't feeling good. His reply was, "Why don't I bring a bottle of champagne for no reason? Oh, wait, it can be for solstice." Love him.

{{{Aimee's friend}}}

Cashmere, how are you feeling?

Cashmere, how are you feeling?

I'm doing well. I've got a babysitter coming in to help me part of the day and DH is taking on an amazing amount of work when he gets home (he's been doing all the laundry--including informing me that he knows where EVERY laundry basket is sitting and if he finds any of them moved when he gets home, I'm in trouble).

I'm thinking it's my nap time since O just went down for his and I think is finally asleep.

including informing me that he knows where EVERY laundry basket is sitting and if he finds any of them moved when he gets home, I'm in trouble

That's a good hubby. Nap well.

{{Aimee's Friend}}

commercial real estate

I worked in industrial real estate once and got fussed at for wearing pants. Yes, PANTS.

I love Christopher.

I also love the idea of having a buffalo delivered to the office. Or, or--maybe you could order things from Fredericks for every staff member and have them delivered! Yes, even the guys. Guys like filmy negligees, too. Oh, what else can we think of to pop the cork on bitchbosswife's apoplexy?

Yergh. Must get ass out of chair and get more stuff done. Don't wanna. Wanna nap.

KB, you have my sympathies. I hope you quickly find the interesting, well-paid job where they value you and treat you well that you deserve.

My boss is crazy-making. She asks me questions she can't reasonably expect me to know the answers to. Another staff member wrote in the communication log that after a certain date she could be reached at a certain phone number. Bosslady reads this and says, "Is this a new number?" Thinking it a rhetorical question, I said nothing. Then she said, "Andrea, is this a new number?" I opted to respond with, "I'm sorry, this is not something I have an answer for." Which was a good deal more polite than the first five or six things I thought. It is not as though the person in question is a great friend of mine who continually confides in me. When things get left undone on another shift, she will ask ME why. Another of her favorite things to do, is to go into excruciating detail on the simplest of tasks which I have successfully completed any number of times, with a view to teaching the new person who is standing next to me how it should be done. Which would be fine, except she refuses to break eye contact with me or acknowlege the little prompts I give, "Oh, you mean place the completed form in spot where I placed the last twenty completed forms?" to show that I do, in fact, have a slight clue as to what I am doing. It has yet to occur to her that the person she is trying to teach is really not processing the information of what she is saying in the same way as she would if she came out and said, "Hey, Andrea, when you are done with that form, why don't you go over it with Mary, then show her where to put it." She likes to play that off as simple reminders. But her actual simple reminders take the form of "Put that you know in the thing." Which tend to be very confusing because she can't keep her pronouns near their antecedents to save her soul.

Oh my God. A friend of mine who I haven't spoken too more than in passing since I left high school just dug up our homecoming picture from junior year, and posted it on The Facebook (which is basically a friendster-type-thing for college students and alums with college email addresses only, for those no longer in that world).

SO wrong. I'm chubby and pimply and my shirt is tucked in all wrong. I look happy, though, which is cool.

These purses totally rock my socks, and I bet Erinaceous would love them too.

[link]

I'm chubby and pimply and my shirt is tucked in all wrong. I look happy, though, which is cool.

Happy trumps young geekiness any day.

CUTE purses.

KB, I continue to be flabbergasted on your behalf.

Oh, holy hell. The rage just kicked in, big-time. I am assuming that it will do this on occasion for a good long while, yes? The trick is not to send any scathing letters or emails when in the grip of it, yes? Because damned if I couldn't tear him apart with my bare hands right the fuck now. Anyhoo. Big breaths. Possibly an Ativan, so I don't kill any innocent coworkers. Mmmm, drugs....

Right, please to ignore the frothing-at-the-mouth girl in the corner.