So apparently my "year I turn a nice round numbered age fear to conquer/exciting thing to do" is learn how to operate a string trimmer. It's heavier than I expected. And while I have mangled a few tomato cages, it hasn't come anywhere near my legs.

WS's string trimmer talk killed the thread? I'll revive it with some bitching!

We have these monthly meetings - the Bataan Death March of meetings. They're scheduled to last four hours, invariably go on for at least six. They're IMPORTANT! Attention (or attendance) must be paid! So important we had someone call in from a trade show he was at to do his part. Which, since he was on a cellphone calling from the exhibit hall floor, was hard to understand. And consisted of him reading his 17 (17!!!) slides.

During this oh-so-important meeting half the people were on their phones texting.

Am I the only one to see the contradiction?

I begged off to proofread a contract which was, believe me, less painful.

They do provide lunch but, just my luck, the caterer of choice is one whose food invariably give me indigestion (so I make sure to bring my lunch).

Geez, Toddson, I'm glad you had that contract to proofread.

Oh, ugh, Toddson. On top of the general vilensss of meetings anyway, to add poisonous caterers and a cellphone reading of 17 slides? Purely evil.

Today I got to tell a persistent caller wanting to get my okay on a verbal order because "it's always such a hassle to call the clinic," "Please stop asking me to agree with you. I can be fired for giving an opinion on this. Please call the clinic manager and please stop talking to me before you get me fired." I have officially become one of those people who won't lift a finger except to forward someone to some other number. Yay, me.

That stinks, JZ. I'm sorry you find yourself in that position.

Aren't those fun? I had someone - in e-mail, luckily - who wanted me to give him a legal opinion on the responsibilities of one party to a contract. um ... NO ... and at 7pm, it's hell no.

Buona Sera!

So my dad and I are sitting at a cafe today, drinking capuccinos and talking, when a man and his family walk by, hear our conversation and stopped to ask us directions. He was also an American, and wanted to know if we knew where a FUCKING STARBUCKS WAS!!!

REALLY??????? You come all the way to Venice, and you want a FUCKING STARBUCKS???????????

YOU CAN GET AN ESPRESSO OR A CAPUCCINO OR A MACCHIATO RIGHT HERE, JERKHOLE!!!!

YOU'RE WHY I HAVE TO TELL PEOPLE I'M CANADIAN!!!!

On the other hand, this evening, my dad and I saw a concerto of Vivaldi's Four Seasons (plus a handful of other Venetian pieces), performed in a wonderful little concert hall, with the performers wearing elegant 18th century Venetian garb.

Magnifico. Multo bene!

Anybody who comes to Venice, and drinks Starbucks coffee, or goes to the Hard Rock for a drink, or eats at the Burger King or the MacDonalds that are here (or buys shoes from the Foot Locker) deserves to be punched in the junk.

Repeatedly.

I ate at a MacDonalds in Moscow. It was a cultural experience. I don't know what they're like in Italy.

I ate at a MacDonalds in Moscow. It was a cultural experience. I don't know what they're like in Italy.

Okay, but a) you're not really a USian, b) msbelle would totally get a pass if she came to Venice and wanted to eat at the Burger King here, and c) okay, I kinda wanted to try a MacDonalds in another country too, just to see what it was like.

But COME ON!!!! We were AT a COFFEE PLACE!!!!