Tuesday, February 06, 2007


I can't keep track of anything lately. I mean to do things, I NEED to do things, and I just forget. Duh.

I have to get my resume in order. I'm going to a convention on Friday and they will do resume critiques. What utter drudgery. But it is a good idea.

For the most part, I have loads of work to do. I feel a little guilty when I do something for myself. But what the hell?

My hair is getting to look especially unkempt. It usually does, but it is now, as I say, looking especially unkempt. It makes my baldness in front show up more when it sags the way it's sagging now. I get my picture taken for the paper every two weeks, and the shine off my scalp is getting obnoxious.

Away with me. I have to write my profile of my nontraditional student. I haven't seen her since last week. It's a little worrisome, actually.

Anyway, eat some chocolate for me.

Thursday, February 01, 2007


I forgot to brush my teeth yesterday. Eew.

I went to pick up my mom to take her to the doctor. She said, "Pick me up at noon and we'll have lunch." I asked if that would be enough time, and she thought it "surely" would be sufficient. I had to pick her up at Scrabble. She plays Scrabble with her old ladies at the library on Wednesdays.

So I left work and had a little extra time, but not enough to go to the bank and deposit the 941 and 940 taxes before I picked her up. I thought maybe I'd just make her wait, but then I remembered how incredibly long it takes her to do anything and thought getting there early was probably a good idea.

Not a good idea. They had just started a new game when I got there. "You'll be amazed how fast it goes with this many people playing," she said. God.

"Do you play?" Barbara asked me. Barbara has been irritating me for as long as I can remember. I don't know why. She means so well. But she's too forward, too ingratiating. She's pushy.

"I hate Scrabble," I told her. I felt bad saying that. Nevermind, though, because Barbara started rambling about Boggle. I did enjoy playing Boggle at her house when I was a kid. She always had bottles of Pepsi in the fridge. We played in the kitchen. Plumes of cigarette smoke curled around the room. I hated that part of it. But the Pepsi was nice. When I was about 11, I found the word SLUT. Barbara and my mother didn't have the nerve to put it down with me playing. They did some tut-tutting, so I said I thought it was a word. My mom said it was, but she didn't think it was a word I would know. I didn't know what it meant, just that my nephew used it several times daily. They wouldn't tell me what it meant.

They finished Scrabble about 12:45. We had to be to the doctor at 1:30. So we got some takeout Chinese on the way. They screwed up our order and only gave us one fork, which I gave to my mom. So I had to pick my "mix chinese vegabo" off the pork fried rice with my fingers. My mom got the white rice, not me. Hers was so spicy it was making her sick. I thought she was going to spew in my car. Seriously. She tried to wash it down with a can of Diet Coke, which she drank in about 30 seconds. Then she belched and belched and belched and coughed and coughed and coughed and her nose ran and she kept giggling at herself. I finally had to laugh, too, because we parked the car at a park in Maple Bluff to eat. So there we were, this fat old woman belching like a drunk and me eating with my fingers. We really didn't fit in. (Maple Bluff is pretty hoity toity. The governor's mansion is there. You probably can find yourself a nice little house for about $400,000 or a nice big house for a couple million.)

Got to the doctor on time. I did homework.

Went to the post office to get some stamps. My mom threw away the last ones I got her. She says it's because they were black and white and she mistook them for junk mail. But she thought they were really ugly...makes me wonder.

Post office was closed "due to an unexpected illness."

Took Mom home, put her Christmas tree away, finally, and went to the bank. Ran into my new web editor. We know each other somehow but can't figure out how. I keep staring at him trying to figure it out. I hope he doesn't get the wrong idea.

So, time to go home and do some homework, right? I decided to take the Interstate. I pulled onto the highway, and a state trooper was behind me. I was very good and stayed right at 65. He pulled me over.


Turns out I have an expired registration. I had no idea. I enjoy paying bills. How could I miss a vehicle registration? How could I miss it since last June? $160.80. They take credit cards, did you know? Grrrr...... I'd scream, but it wouldn't help. I can contest it in court if I want to. I heard if you contest it, they'll reduce the fine and send you to traffic school. I'd rather visit a proctologist. I'm finding my checkbook now....