Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Just Another Manic Monday

Yesterday was really a tale of two days. The alarm went off (as it always does, despite my throwing everything, including cats, at it) at 5:50 a.m., awaking me from my five hours of slumber (it was a good night). I staggered to the shower, and in the process smacked my left knee on the corner of my bed. Let's just say the whole house was awake by then. The day and week was off to an inauspicious start. During my shower, I somehow managed to get shampoo in my right eye (my contacts were already in), which caused my eye to sting, burn, howl and tear profusely. How I was able to remove my contact, put it in my contact case and rinse my eye out while blinded and without soaking the bathroom or breaking a hip is anybody’s guess.

From there, I went to work as usual. Upon arriving at work, I turned on my laptop to find that the server here is not recognizing my “profile” and has decided to log me in with a temporary one. So all my settings, favorites and the websites that “remember me” are gone. Of course, I can’t remember most of my usernames or passwords, so blogging was virtually out yesterday, save for replying in the comments section. Then, upon telling Chip about the problem, he lectures me for 10 straight minutes about the “dangers of surfing the web with a work pc.” My injured eyes and contacts proceeded to roll out of my head. He told me that he’s going to have to “take my deck away from me and see what I did to it.” Here's to wishing you could aim your eyes when they roll out of your head - my God I wanted to punch him. I didn’t do anything to it. I was in for about a half hour Saturday and it was working fine. I didn’t even go online. I shut it down and left it at that. When I came in yesterday, it wasn’t working properly.

After I got all logged in, I visited my blog to see that Friday’s post, which was supposed to be humorous, but was taken personally by a couple of my readers. I have a saying that goes “Fuck em if they can’t take a joke,” so fuck em. Whatever. I also spent the morning trying to correct an error I made on a case a month ago. Around 11:30, I had to go meet with a doctor that is going to be testifying for us in a case in two weeks. We were set to meet at a hospital about 20 minutes outside of Portland. I get to the hospital and he’s not there. Nowhere to be found. After about 30 minutes of poking around, calling his office and calling mine, I finally figure out that he has an office in the professional building next to the hospital, but he’s not going to be there until 2:00. Fine, whatever. I left the notebook he’ll need on his desk chair and he can talk to my boss after he reviews the documents. Definitely not my finest hours. I left his office tired, haggard, pissy and headed for a serious case of road rage.

But something weird happened on the way back to the office. First of all, I was driving my boss' car, a Porsche Cayenne Turbo. Not a bad car to be driving. Actually, it is one of the best cars to be driving when you’re pissed b/c you can stomp on the gas and come down with a serious case of the giggles. That car is just too fuckin fast for its own good.

Then, I got a call from my friend Ben. We’re going to the Oregon-UCLA football game this weekend. I knew this, considering it’s his annual birthday present to me. What I didn’t know is that we’ll be sitting in the VIP Skybox, which means free food and booze before, during and after the game. Let me say that again - FREE FOOD AND BOOZE BEFORE, DURING AND AFTER THE GAME. Of course, this might nix our plans to go to the strip club after (mainly b/c being in a strip club and being drunk is never a good combination for your wallet), but who fucking cares? I’m getting absolutely HAMMERED for free. I'm sure there will be a co-ed or two running around that won't mind me sticking $5 bills into her g-string. After he lays that bombshell on me, he brightens up my gloomy day even further by telling me that the Tony Roma’s that recently closed (that’s a restaurant about five blocks from my house) is being turned into a HOOTERS. My head is reeling. I do believe I’d bear Ben’s kids right now if he asked me to. As the word ‘Hooters’ came through my cell phone, I swear to Christ that the sun came out at that VERY moment. Very ominous, indeed. That settled it right there, I’m calling him whenever I’m having a bad day. Dude is like a beacon of light.

After arriving back at the office, the day went much better. It was quiet so I could get some work done, coupled with being able to post comments on my blog. Plus, I seemed to begin to get every break for the rest of the day. Case in point, I went upstairs to make some coffee (mainly b/c it’s almost always gone by 3:00), but there was enough coffee for exactly ONE cup, which is all I needed. Also, on the way home, I found out that my long awaited new cell phone arrived in the mail. Very nice Motorola V220 camera phone. I got to play around with it all night long. Add all that to the fact that my kids didn’t give me any guff when it was time to do homework and then go get in the shower and get ready for bed, and it may have just been the perfect evening. Well, as much as an evening without sex can be perfect.

About the only thing that could have made my day better was if Jennifer Garner called me to say she stopped by my blog, read my tribute to her and told me she feels the same way about me. Then, of course, we’d do it doggy style while I called her Sidney. Afterwards, she’d say I was the biggest and best she ever had. Then I'd tell her to get the fuck out of my house because she's damaged goods. Go crawling back to Ben, honey. Save it for Bennifer Part Deux.

Sadly, that didn’t happen...well at least not in real life. I didn’t get laid, but only because self gratification doesn’t count.

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