That makes it sound like they almost don't want any.

So it's like they're saying:

If you insist, we'll take your dead computer. But you should feel really guilty about it.

An awesome comic, especially for girls: [link]

Somebody should send that comic to Dana Perino.

They were jeans that I got during the inbetween post-baby/pre-regular belly state, and I was hoping to coax them into fitting properly without having to go out and buy a damn belt (they're so irritatingly low rise that none of my regular belts fit).

I read something recently about this new non-belt thing that's supposed to cinch in the waist on pants. Of course, I totally can't remember where I read about it now.

I don't think they make anything that would help me keep my workout pants up these days. (I've had some close calls on the treadmill, including today.) My mother, of course, is delighted that she's about to inherit some snazzy workout clothes. My bank balance is less thrilled with the idea.

I'm hold with the IRS. Best Monday ever.

Zombie Feynman!

The DH's movie is going pear-shaped, and the phone has been ringing non-stop for three days now. The process has involved people lying on the phone, zillions of emails, an actor's manager saying one thing is a fact and his agent saying the opposite, people making offers to REALLY famous people without checking with the producers, people screaming invective at my husband in a restaurant then calling five minutes after they walk out to say they were just "anxious," lawyers trying to strong-arm various other lawyers, locations being changed at the last minute, CAA calling 20 times a day saying they need an answer NOW, and endless negotiating. There are quite a few people I want to punch right now but luckily, the DH is taking this whole thing way better than I am. I have been home for 3 hours, and he has literally been on one conference call or another the entire time. It's exciting to overhear, but i don't know how he keeps his cool.

yeesh it sounds like an episode of Entourage.

Jaysus Scrappy. Pour yourself a cocktail and put your feet up. Skritch the pets and treat it like PPV.

Okay. Work did not kill me.

Maybe troubleshooting my PC will. Yikes.

Cause he's him! Wishing you both smooth(er) sailing in the future.

OK, you'd think I would have learned to not put sharp things in my pockets after I accidentally sewed the surgical scissors used to remove my mom's c-section stitches into my winter coat ( they were from my birth! What? She saw them and knew they'd make good seam rippers for sewing and so took 'em) and subsequently stabbed myself in the hip one day (which is a weird sort of symmetry...)

But no. Stabbed myself with one of those flossers tucked into my fleece.