Oh, Ginger! Scary! I hope you get through.

Frustrating, PC.

I am exhausted. Spent the day at the museum with Theodosia and another friend and her kids. Wow. I'm just so tired.

Aaargh.

Is Daisy Jane around? She'd appreciate this. This is, no shit, a verbatim transcript of a call I just got:

MM: [company], this is Joe, how can I help you?

Customer: Hi Joe, we spoke about two minutes ago and you gave me some pricing?

MM: Okay.

Customer: So, I need to add your name to my notes.

MM: Okay.

Customer: ...

MM: ...

Customer: So, your name...?

MM: ...is Joe.

Customer: Okay, thanks.

Note that she called me by name when I answered!

Seriously, how do these people manage to not go around with their underwear on their heads and lipstick on their asses? These people have drivers licenses! We should all live in constant terror at all times.

Very impressive, um [consults notes], Joe.

Sorry your mom's frustratin you, P-C, but she is sick and that makes the wacky go to 11.

It's an insanely difficult choice, and one I haven't made yet. My friend and I realised that I'm the heroine in a romance novel, with this choice between York and Cardiff. York is the nobleman, a bit frayed around the edges, but with excellent breeding and stature. Quirky, though, with a bit of a dark side. And Cardiff is the always-cheerful blokey dude, frank and open and welcoming. Not as prestigious, but there's just something about him...

The first time I read this (in COMM) I was at work –high school- and we have NetNanny (which, BTW, anyone know a better program? We’re shopping around for one…).

NetNanny decided that “heroine” was too scandalous a word for students to read; it edited it to “. . . I realised that I'm the ****** in a romance novel, with this choice between York and Cardiff.”

I was all, huh? Bitch? Whore? Harlot? Cocksucker? WHAT IS SA?

And then I get home and it’s HEROINE? HEROIN is a drug. Not heroine. W.T.F.

Also….”realised?” SA’s getttin’ all Britified…

ION, today some of my students started looking up stuff for our suicidal poetry unit.

Quotes:

“What is UP with Goths anyway?”

“You are weird, Ms.G.” (After showing them the frontispiece for Jilli’s website (GCS).)

“All my “suicidal poetry” searches keep leading me to Christian blogs. Is there a correlation?”

I'm picking up shoes after work

I read this as “I'm puking up shoes after work.” I blinked a couple of times, and thought, Wow, she’s REALLY sick. Lucky, but ill.

P-C, I am 8 years younger than your mom.

Wuh oh, does this mean you're going to start guilt-tripping me about not e-mailing you every day?

Sorry your mom's frustratin you, P-C, but she is sick and that makes the wacky go to 11.

Yeah. It just fucking sucks because it leaves me in a lose-lose position. I don't want to talk to her in this state, but if I don't talk to her, it means I don't care.

Being 5 years older than your mother I can assure you that sanity is just around the corner. I was sooooo much crazier at 48. She'll be all normal and respectful any day now. believe the lie believe the lie

Yikes, I'm sorry for your poor sister, Ginger. Not being able to call her and talk must be difficult.

We've had another round of email-email-phone-email-email, and my sister is now home with some of the good drugs. I suspect she's going to feel a lot worse tomorrow.

Oh, I meant to say: what a circuitous route to talk to your sister, Ginger! It's like an O. Henry story with you with no voice and her not able to use her e-mail, but better because she is basically okay. I don't think anyone getting hit by a car in an O. Henry story gets to be okay.

Customer: So, your name...?

Should have said: Bamblebert Fishtibuns. Jerry Dorsey. Slut Bun Walla.

Bangiebert Butrusstrundn