Dear Sue Who Worried
Dear Sue Who Worried,
Thank you for the sweet email inquiring into my wellbeing and whereabouts. I assure you I’m fine and have not been sucked into a black hole. Or a worm hole. Or a donut hole.
Though that last one does sound delicious!
I haven’t been kidnapped by gypsies. Nor have I been honeymooning with Mike Rowe, giving motivational speeches about Nutella or doing time for driving a titanium spork through one of my PITA boss’s foreheads.
No, the truth is I’m so out of shape I threw my back out by…wait for it…SITTING!
Not. Even. Joking.
A couple of weeks after Star Wars Day I was taking a class and spent two days sitting on very hard, very uncomfortable wooden chairs, which caused two bulged disks and six weeks of agony. And it’s still not “right” but I can bend without screaming now, so that’s good, right?
Combine that with just the utter lack of anything interesting to blog about and here we are almost 7 months later! So, what (other than being laid up, and not in a good way) have I been doing all this time?
Not a whole hell of a lot.
The car failed inspection so I had to get two tires replaced.
I had jury duty but didn’t actually get picked.
I bought a new curling iron, the first I’ve had in years, and keep burning the crap out of myself with it. I have a burn on the top of my right hand that looks like someone put a cigarette out on me.
At least that’s what I’ve been telling everybody.
Last week one of the PITAs screamed at me for a full 10 minutes because I didn’t give him the right size envelope.
This week he bit my head off because I got a dinner reservation for him and his wife RIGHT.
Oh! A couple of weeks ago MadamBob and I went to happy hour with some of her coworkers, a rare occurrence, and I downed two long islands and a Guinness before going to the bathroom and almost walking out with my skirt tucked into my fishnets. ALMOST. See, I wasn’t drunk!
Also, at said happy hour, I spent most of the night eyeing a guy MadamBob works with who’s very cute, a Simpson’s fan and clued us into the conspiracy to change everything lime flavored to sour apple. When we got in the car I immediately was like Hello! Why haven’t you mentioned him? To which she responded “He’s kind of churchy.” DUDE! He has a penis and a job! He’s perfect!
You see? Nothing interesting.
So, in conclusion, yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus…and he love me long time.
What were we talking about?
Oh right! Thank you Sue for the kick in the ass and Happy Thanksgiving to all!