Old Thoughts. New Blog

Old thoughts. New Blog.

First, there was angelfire... The Reflection .

Then, there was diaryland... Monkeybeth Rambles...

And of course, who can forget runboard? Eak The Monkey ...

And now... we have blogger.com. Lovely.

I've been posting random thoughts on the internet since 1995 (I think. It may have been '96).

Indulging yourself on county time is great. Fantastic. Thanks to all you taxpayers for allowing my narcissitic mispellings and all that shy-it... Not that I'm the one taxpayers should be concerned about. They should be freaking out about these other county employees who forget to put slips in for sick time and disappear for three to five hour lunches and have movie breaks in the library and all that shit. They should be more concerned about the ones who come in at ten and leave at four.

That'd be a nice work day... but, comma, no comma.

I'm in the no comma crowd. All the losers described above... well... sorry TP's but they be in the comma department.

So I'm not that bad. I don't even take full hour lunches...

We moved this weekend and I am exhausted. Who ever knew that hardwood floors would make such a difference in the temperature of my apartment!?! Freezing all the time. Sleeping in long sleeve t-shirts. Not so sexy as see-through tank tops and panties. But I guess we can't all be sexy all the time.

Today is Futon Day. Our flea-infested, seventies patterned, springs-all-sprung, tiny itsy bitsy teeny weeny loveseat is no more! How exciting for those of us who despise fleas. Get off my fucking cats, you little bastards, squish, crack, no more flea. We cleaned out our apartment and the loveseat was the last thing to go. We hauled it out and set it in front of the house with a Free sign; some poor sucker bastard picked it up within forty five minutes.

Hope s/he doesn't mind the fleas.

Put an old vaccuum out there, too, and within moments it was gone. Damn people didn't take the eight bags of clothes, though. Woulda saved me a trip to the goodwill.

Too bad for the tsunami victims that no where is accepting clothing donations... they coulda been pimped out in gap and gucci.

I lied about that gucci part.

I don't even own any gucci shit. Unless you count OK computer where Thom York says gucci little piggies... but I don't think that even counts. Not even that. But I do love the gap, despite an ardent protestation of them in my teenage years. I'd cross streets to avoid even being on the same side as a gap. I'd yell at innocent cheerleaders. Now that I'm working, Gap is handy-- one pair of pants in thirty different colors... sounds great!

Montel Williams smokes pot.

Right on for him. Way to be a leader, Montel


I should get back to work. Enough unoriginality for today.

Peace, yo.