yawn

I am a bedraggled ball of yeuch this morning. I just made that word up.
My hair is all tangles. I have no idea how this happened. My chest is kinda tickly inside, which is unpleasant. (Yesterday at work I discovered that opening the dishwasher and hanging over it felt like those vaporizer treatments they used to give me when I was a kid with asthma. I spent a ridiculous amount of time with my face in the dishwasher while taking care of the dishes, and consequently came out of the back room a number of times to wait on patrons with my glasses all fogged, which amused them immensely. I hammed it up a bit. Obviously I was not that sick.)

I woke at the ungodly hour of seven (ungodly given that I didn't finally roll over and go to sleep until midnight), but lying in bed for 45 minutes mentally choreographing what promises to be an entertaining smut scene made me feel rather a lot better. (However, God only knows when I'll have the time to actually *write* it. But rest assured, it's choreographed. Yes that is how I operate, and no I didn't act it out. My hair was already tangled.)

( doing the math and finding money! )

to be posted later by Dave when Internet comes back

Our Internet service is mucho flaky. it went down precisely at 9 am this morning and has been down over an hour. I have to leave now for work.

Quills&Ink people: was in midst of posting to you that I don't have time to read anything over: don't have Internet access from work. I wanted to say, if you have any questions or issues for Dave, you need to email them to him. I am not going to be able to find them all in the forum threads and remember to repeat them to him: I barely see him now that he's at school on my days off and I'm at work on his days off. He is extremely busy with the school thing, and isn't going to be on the forums. So if there's an issue, he needs to be e-mailed as there is no other way to be sure he knows about the issue or question.
Though even e-mail has been flaky of late: apparently none of you got one of my recent ones. (Grim.)


Everyone else: If I said anything weird before I vanished offline, sorry! I have only the vaguest memories of posting / emailing things last night. Am a little full of cold virus, and have a lot of hours to work this weekend, so don't have time to keep track of my fevered imaginings.
(No, Kat, i don't actually have a fever. It's OK.)

Am hopefully at work now, making tons of money. Cross your fingers for me: Maybe I'll be able to pay the gas bill. We're almost there!
(OK, I just typed one ! and then took my hands off the keyboard entirely and the exclamation point repeated itself across the rest of the line. by itself. Weird. And it's not like the key was stuck down-- it takes two keys to type a !. Am... creeped out.)

Canadians: Go home.

I havoo sniffoos today. It was kinda gross at work, trying not to audibly sniffle while I was clearing tables and so on. "here's your beer" *snaaark*
Gross.
I wasn't drippy, or hawking loogies or anything, but the sniffling, oh the sniffling...

Now I'm all head-stuffy, woog. Ears need to pop. Bleah.
I am so tired I am pretty much actually retarded. Dave just wandered in and handed me the Newton, which I had left... sitting on the stove. Yes, that's an excellent place for it.

As for my offensive subject line, above, it is meant in good humor. But still.

( To all our neighbors to the north: an open letter. )

Lather, rinse, repeat to the tune of a $750 deposit (I usually deposit $300 on a reasonable night). It was super-busy, super-super busy in fact. I was at Landmark, not Torture Bar, so it was manageable, but still. It was super-super busy, and I made an average of $3 off my multiple $40 tabs. It seems to me that Canadians tip you about $2 regardless of the size of the bill, which is really... sort of tiring. I swear to God there wasn't one American in that bar at times. "Eh"s everywhere, and I found myself saying, "Ooh, soorry, we're oot of thaat." on more than one occasion. (Aaagh! I absorb accents like a sponge and it's so annoying.) (I also kept saying "Oh yah suure" which is even worse. Gawd.)

I did make a reasonable amount of money. But, pretty well under 15%. Still, I lived. And am way better off than I was.
And...

Don't have to work in the Club next Friday!!
They gave me next Friday off!
HA HA HA HA!!
They made the girl who called in sick and screwed me into a sixth day in the club come in instead! So there, woman! Suck on that!
Granted, Friday is the busy night in the Club, but oh well; I'll make easily twice that on my extra Wednesday.

However, it means one more day I have to take the bus. Bleah.


Am so so very tired, I believe my brain is no longer functioning, and Dave wants to watch a movie, so we'll see how well that works. I'm pretty dumb. And we don't have any light movies in the house. Oh well. :D Maybe I'll fall asleep.

Ever.

(A marvel: I remain conscious! Well, for sufficiently small values of 'conscious'.) (And by "Ever", I mean, "at this moment." This is very much an in-the-moment post.)


Cutest Thing Ever: kkatowll recounts taking her Girl Scouts skiing.

I don't know how my girls picked that up, but they have always wanted to ski, admired the racers on TV, but they were sure that they just couldn't because they were black. Not out of racism, just as a sort of unwritten law.

Most Crack-Addled Thing Ever: Dave's teammate in his Ad Hoc Networks class put together their team website. This is what happens when a first-year comp sci graduate gets 1) a copy of Flash, and 2) bored and, apparently, excited at the same time. Love the color scheme. (Also, the buttons' movement is determined by the direction and velocity of your mouse cursor. Play with it a while. Also, the website breaks if you click too many links. Yes.)
ARGH blinky things.

Runner-Up, Most Crack-Addled Thing Ever (link also courtesy of Dave): Nanaca Crash, a Flash game wherein you, a young Japanese girl on a bicycle, have to hit a man and make him bounce through the park as far as possible.
Dave's current record hovers around 3000 meters.

And finally, Most Dumbest Thing:
My bank just sent me a letter about my credit card. See, I've had this thing since 1997. I was 17 when I signed up, so my dad is a guarantor on the account. (He's also the only reason I can have an account with this bank, which is the official bank of the Armed Forces (Motto: "We know what it means to serve"-- which applies to me, I suppose, except that in my case it refers to bloody marys [maries?] not, y'know, the Service) and will only accept Armed Forces members and their families (including adult dependents-- ha ha) as customers. They're a good bank, all things considered. Limitations, sure, but if you're being deployed they know what you need to do with your money in the meantime. (Sure. That helps me.) Anyhow. Time to get out of this parenthetical aside.)
Now, over the last couple months I've had some money issues. So, for the first time in (counts) seven years, I've had to carry a balance for more than two months. A weighty balance.
This letter? I am not making this up:

Thank you for being an excellent credit card customer. As a result, a guarantor is no longer required on your account and has been released from responsibility.

That was a direct quote, by the way. Yes, nice polished writing. I can totally follow their train of thought. Which goes thus: "Hi, we noticed you're poor. Which means we're actually making money off this account. Here! Let's take Daddy off and see if you screw up more."
I fully anticipate that the next letter will raise my credit to $10,000. And up my interest rate.

Yeah, I'm gonna go eat noodles and fall asleep now. Hopefully in that order. The other order would probably be bad.