That's what I'm infected with. No sooner had I announced that it was out of the question for me to write, than I wrote 500 +/- words while I was waiting on hold for someone. My brain seems to do the opposite of whatever I tell it some days.

I gotta have one of those conversations with BossyBoots. Bleah. I have to tell him that if he takes exception to someone thinking he said something, he can't document his protest in the call management software. As I've told him forty-nine times, that software is our back-up to prove the work we're doing on this contract, in case the client or the FDA decides to audit us. This is not the place for him to make whiny.

I went back there to deal with it a couple of minutes ago but he was sitting there on the phone, munching his gums and looking stupid.

I'm in kind of a bad mood.

The next day....

That appears to be all I had to say yesterday.

In spite of this morning's 7:00 conference call and the gross, gray rain, I'm in a better mood today. Possibly that's because I ate like a pig yesterday evening. Sue me. I'm happier and you can't take that away from me. No day can be a complete waste if it entails the wearing of zippy-leg pants!

To: The First Floor 'Ho
If you're over fifty with the wrinkles of a seventy year-old, you dye your hair turquoise, and you slam your 50-inch butt into a pair of raggedy size 14 jeans, you're going to look like a skanky 'ho. It's a given, okay?

Maybe you are a skanky 'ho and don't mind advertising the fact, I don’t know, but walking around with a chip on your shoulder about looking skanky doesn't add to your social appeal, so don't give me hateful looks for doing a double-take.

You knew you looked like a freak when you left home this morning. Do you honestly expect me to believe you're wearing turquoise spiked hair because you don't want to attract attention?

You express your individuality by looking like a reject for a Bride of Frankenstein casting call.

I express mine by being disconcerted to find you in my office building.