9:03 a.m. - 2004-12-23
I have no idea what started last night's fracas, but it was right under my window, involved some stupid whiny-voiced chick talking—nay, screaming—"It's my CAR. Chad, come on, Chad, come on" and the dude named Chad threatening to do some ass whipping. I was going to peek out the window and see what was happening, or open the window and holler "SHUT THE HELL UP."
However, being that the temperature last night was such that, if I HAD nuts, they would have been frozen off, and I was snuggled in my nice cozy bed with my nice cozy kitties, and I was still more asleep than awake…well…I just ignored them and hoped they would go away. Which, in due time, they did.
Because of the 2 a.m. wake up call (oh, face it, Loopy, you didn’t fucking go to bed until 12:30 anyway), me and my snooze button had one of our little spats this morning, which it won. As usual.
My flight leaves at 6:30 p.m. I get off work at 5. I'm hoping that this holiday will follow the precedent of all the others to date, and we'll get to cruise at 3. Owing to my oversleeping this morning, I didn't finish packing my suitcase. Additionally, the moronic substitute mail carrier yesterday didn't leave the package in my downstairs vestibule (they ALWAYS do), so I have to go to the freaking post office, and because I live on the
In answer to Gumphood's question in my comments yesterday: Bob is one of the fitness trainers on America's Biggest Loser, which you should be watching like everyone else. And I've been seeing you around a lot, too…what, are ya stalking me or something? Hehehe. Bob is cute, but I do believe he bats for the opposing team.
So, as of tonight, I'll be putting the fun in dysfunctional. I'm not sure whether I'll have time to update or not, so either have a Merry Christmas, or drink/drug yourself into oblivion and pretend it's not happening…or some combination thereof.