Thursday, October 28, 2004

Foolish Games

Karma-wise, I'm not sure whether the two dollars in dimes I recieved out of the parking machine this morning was retribution for something I've already done or an indicator that the scales have to balance out on the good side for the rest of the day. I did accidentally forget to turn off my brights this morning and nearly blinded another (half-asleep) driver, but really, is that two dollars in dimes bad? I'm going to choose to believe I've got two paper bucks worth of good coming down the pipe. It is payday, and it is Grudge day, not to mention the fact that my newspaper-selling friend even left me alone. So today has the possibility to be a solid B+, maybe even an A-.

Apparently the picture of Mr. Flowers that I hung in my cubicle is causing quite a ruckus. A ruckus, I tells ya, not a commotion, or a bunch of hoo-ha, but a full-fledged ruckus. I only had one thing to put up on my bare-ass walls, which was Brad's Halloween painting, and I happened to have the Spin issue with the Killers in it in my bag, so I tacked up Brandon's big old face. Not only have people asked me to my face who it is, if I know him, and whether he's my boyfriend ("A singer." "No." "Not yet. Also, this is clearly ripped out of a magazine, because, see, it has a caption, while, to my knowledge, most personal photographs of loved ones do not.") but yesterday when I was typing something Brian watched some weird Journals editor creep up to my cubicle, peer over the wall, and then mime an entire conversation asking the intern who sits next to me who it was in my picture. I didn't realize you could be so boring and still such a woman of mystery.

You're breaking my. Hear. T.

Foolish Games by Jewel may be the greatest karaoke idea I've ever had. That song. Oh, that song. She sounds like a duet between Tom Jones and Shirley Temple, if Shirley had eaten Tom, and then a drag queen had eaten Shirley.

Speaking of karaoke, I wish the best of luck to Vicky (who will never read this) on Saturday in the final round that's gonna win her a thousand clams and a ticket out of a shitty apartment.

I found out last night that Ken Jennings, my little mormon Jeopardy! idol, actually works as a healthcare software developer. Health informatics, folks. Health infor-fucking-matics. It's all connected.


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