Mar. 26th, 2009

newlifeinstpaul: (Default)
Stress stress stress.

Well, not in terms of HUGE stress. Way too many people are going through that these days. More like annoying little paper cut that you manage to keep brushing things against variety of stress. Not big. Just little things.

A few weeks back during a snow, Brenda slid out of control on a freeway ramp and kissed a retaining wall. Turns out she hadn't been rotating her tires...and given the ridiculous miles she puts in driving for work, the front pair were practically bald. Tires plus front end repairs were a grand plus. While she had the money, she was sitting on that for wedding-related expenses and that TOTALLY took us out of the mood for spending on anything for any reason whatsoever.

Can't say looking at our spending habits was a bad idea. Granted, the way we came across it sucked, but otherwise...the $30-35 shrugs of 'Eh, let's not cook tonight' turned into quick dinners at home or at the worst, shrunk into $10-15 shrugs. And that adds up.

Meanwhile, the work pile-up debacle of last week turned into this week's small grant of OT. Helloooooo time-and-a-half. Can't be mad at that!

Better yet, that means I can spend today (Thursday, which for those of you who don't know, is typically my Friday) adjudicating my ARSE off instead of losing half of it to the typical mop-up-before-the-weekend-hit duties. Not to mention Version 2.0 of my secret Work Up Weapon is better than ever. I should skip a number altogether and call it 3.0, since it incorporates a great many functions I've been thinking of adding, but never got around to.

Last but not least, FAT. Oh my God. I couldn't stand the sight of my own freakin' FACE in those funeral photos. Granted, there are a lot of folk who wouldn't consider 6'1" 220-something as heavy. But for me? When I stepped on the scale, I was seeing numbers I hadn't seen since I was doing the white-picket fence, miserably married thing back in the L. It was making me crazy. I tried one thing, than another, then combined it with something else until....until...well, I'm not sure I have it nailed quite yet. But it looks like I have a toe-hold. More on that later.

Except for George, for whom 'later' means absolutely never. Like the last Bombshells.

See? That was a pre-emptive SSSSHHHHHH. Before you speak!




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newlifeinstpaul: (Default)
If you ask Brenda, the travesty is that the blind guy's still in.

If you ask ME, I say it's that he was in the bottom three and NOT MEGAN.

Are you KIDDING ME??!?!?!?

I swear on a (thankfully) short stack of Bobby Brown, Bell Biv Devoe CDs and all other Unholy Forces of Live Performance SUCK there must be millions upon millions of men living alone who can finish what they start in the minute-and-a-half it takes for her to warp the fabric of Medi-Suck-rity, wipe their television screen clean and spend the next three hours of the night ringing some worthless toll-free number.

Then again, who dares doubt the power of such obviously limber wrists?



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newlifeinstpaul: (Default)
When performing on the show?
Never, ever, ever, ever EVER touch the crowd.
EVAR.

They are poisonous. They infect you with suck. More suck? I can't be sure.
Think about it. Who's touched the crowd that didn't wind up in the bottom three?



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newlifeinstpaul: (Default)
Why oh why isn't the local CBS station letting me watch Duke get done by Villanova?
WHY!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!

Could be reali-trasha-spoileriffic, you've been warned )




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