I’m so sleepy.
It’s Margaret Thatcher’s birthday. Happy birthday Margaret Thatcher.
Should I join the bus trip to Chicago next month? Networking. Nerves. Would probably wander off by myself all day taking pictures. If I have the Canonista back.
God I miss my camera.
Some people are just never going to like me. That’s just the way it is. Unfortunately, 1 or 2 of those people are relatives.
No, there is no such thing as “lower caps”.
Why isn’t it 4:00 yet?
It is true that I will sometimes listen to a song 3 or 4 … or 5 times in a row. Don’t judge me.
It is taking me forever to get through this book, the Switch. The dialogue is unfortunate. No one says, in a fit of despair and emotion, “She was so sweet and guileless! That’s what makes this so confounding!” No one talks like that.
When you’ve reached the point of calling it the “grazing table” I think it’s time to step back from treat days at work.
I don’t understand how your interpretation of business casual is yoga pants, Chuck’s and a t shirt.
There is no better tasting apple than a Honey Crisp.
I am distracto girl today.
Jeeeeeze, lady! What is it with you and onions lately?
The internet makes it entirely too easy for people to be assholes. No one has any manners any more.
I really want to make some pulled pork sandwiches.
The shadow in our anniversary pic makes my girls look giganomous.
Now I’m really hungry for pulled pork sandwiches.
Well, now that was some exciting office drama.
I love my cheap plastic skullie bracelets.
I really don’t see what the big deal is about Banksy. There, I said it.
Argh I HATE my cell phone.
I never win anything.
It’s so gloomy outside. And cool again. Fall!
There goes Nosy McWaddlepants, waddling by my cube trying to see what I’m doing. That never gets old.
I’m so tired of dealing with this mortgage company.
Oh there goes June Cleavage! Wow. Again, office, not bar.
Commenting on the “Uncertain Wednesdays” photos my friends post makes me slightly uncomfortable. I think you’re looking for honesty on your uncertain wardrobe selections, but it still feels like I’m somehow being mean.
Dear Detroit, Light Rail is never the answer. Dear Department of Agriculture, it is not your job to tell our kids what to eat.
My husband is awesome.
Have we set a new Random record for length? Are you sick of me yet?
My skin feels strange this week. Like it’s itchy on the inside.
I miss my Canonista. I wonder if she’s made it to New Jersey yet. Sigh.
And just like that, I’m gone.