I refuse to be insane any longer

I have given some thought today, for the first time in my conscious life, about what it means to be a gold digger. And how to become one. That sounds crazy. I just wrote it and it totally doesn't sound like me...but they say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. Well, maybe it's time to change my ways?

And expect some different results.

I was driving at night a few weeks ago and this random car hit me and then sped off as fast as he could. No, I didn't get his license plate number. No, my insurance didn't cover it.

Then this morning I woke up to my car's front passenger window smashed to smitherines and the car door still ajar in the 0 degree weather. Luckily my Ipod wasn't in there--it's the only thing I usually keep in there of value. Good thing I have Kanye's "Gold Digger" song on there because I am going to ROCK OUT.

So they took the title to my car and its registration and today I will spend some time at the Social Security office, making sure my identity doesn't get stolen. I sit here typing as the window repair guy is fixing my car window. For almost $200.

So my thoughts turned to this--why not find a rich guy? I bet I could wing it. Now where to find them?? Luckily I'm not already married for love to someone poor like I always planned. Since I probably won't find love anyway, might as well have something good come from it, right? RIGHT???

Things I'm grateful for

Seeing the little baby mouse dead at work today. It was so sad and gross, but I was glad there was one less mouse in the world.

My candle in my office that smells of lilacs.

Pandora radio.

Sleeping.

My long scarf I wrap around my head/ears because I lost my hat.

Elle Fitzgerald.

Being so busy I don't have time to replay in my mind all the mean things people who claim to be my friends say to me.

Mo-tab.

Warm socks.

Skinny jeans (gotta keep up with some of the trends).

DANCING and watching So You Think You Can Dance.

I LOVE this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFQesV-nU5U&feature=related

Laugh attack

On Fridays at work, the massage students come in to give free chair massages to employees and clients, so I always take advantage. This morning, I passed the room where the massage students were busily kneading away, and I saw that a client, we'll call him Chad, was receiving a massage from a stoic looking girl. Chad isn't just any client, however. This guy NEVER stops talking. I always cringe when he comes in and I'm at the front desk because he doesn't care if I'm even looking at him, he will talk to me without taking a breath unless I WALK AWAY. Yeah. So Chad the chatter was getting a massage and just talking talking talking and for some reason, it was just so funny to me, imagining what those poor massage students were thinking. Then when he left it was my turn and while I was getting a massage I couldn't stop laughing because I kept thinking of Chad the chatter. Probably the girl massaging me thought I was laughing at her massage skills or something. Right after my massage it was time for me to switch offices, and as I was leaving (I had just made myself stop laughing), this other client, John (the ding dong the witch is dead one) walks up to me as I passed through the waiting room, and flapping his arms exclaims, "Tweet tweet tweet!" I walked out the door and laughed my whole walk to my other office. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1dkTrNH92Y

ding dong the wicked witch is dead.

So I'm putting clinicians files away in the bull pen office this morning, and I hear someone hit the bell three times in a row really loudly. Sigh. I hate that sound. I come to the front and there is John, a client, a regular, singing to me, "Ding, dong, the witch is dead! Which old witch? The wicked witch! Ding dong the wicked witch is dead! Tra la! Lalalalalala Tra LA..." I didn't think he was going to stop. I felt like Pam from the office staring at Michael or at Dwight or even Andy, too mesmerized by awkwardness to react. Thinking I should probably laugh or smile, I smiled, because I just couldn't laugh. John says, "Well, I was trying to be happy. Guess it wasn't working." I asked him what he needed. "Can I have three big black trash bags and a pair of rubber gloves?" No problem. Got him the stuff and he and his quiet friend who was with him left. After 3 seconds he came back in. "Can I have that hospital mask?"
"Sure you can, John," I reply.
"Thanks, because if I'm allowed to ride the bus again, I'll want to wear it to protect everyone and myself."
"Yes, John. Good idea." I say.
He puts it in his pocket and leaves.
Then he comes back 2 seconds later. "Well, I don't need it just yet." He takes it from his pocket and puts it back on the desk.

I should probably throw it away, now, right?

Your Ex-Lover's Dead

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhXtietJZr4

A Veritable Smorgasbord

We have mice. My roommate has been sick, so she keeps a lot of food in her room...even a refrigerator. And the funny thing is, she's the only one who ever sees the mice. There have been several encounters with her seeing the little jumping mouse, leaping, scurrying its little furry body right by her bed, in the bathroom when she gets up in the night, in her dreams, I'm sure. This morning I got up and went to open the bathroom door when I saw a huge handwritten note in blue marker. It read, "Hey girls, the mouse is in the bathroom. Please don't let it out. You can wake me up if you want. Love, Brooke." There was a towel shoved under the door with a candle and games piled on top, I'm sure so the mighty mouse couldn't push his way through no matter what. I stared at the note, thinking about work and how I had woken up with just enough time to get ready and go. I woke Brooke up. The conversation went like this:
"Hey, I don't know what to do. I need to get ready for work. There is no other available bathroom." I am so tired and why is this happening, I'm wondering.
"Well, maybe you could put a box over it and catch it?" Brooke has a brilliant idea...except...
"Well I don't think I could be so quick and I'm scared of the mouse too!" Do I look like a guy? Or do I look like I have super powers? Maybe I do?
"Yeah...I texted my dad. I was hoping he would have texted me back or come over by now."
Well it was around 7:20 by this time. So I moved the barriers, cautiously stepped in the bathroom, stood and scanned the area for a hopping creature. No mouse that I could see. Probably escaped through the wall or is hiding somewhere. Thess and I were brushing our teeth when Brooke came out to see what was going on. I said I would buy some traps and get some peanut butter so we could actually eradicate the problem. That is the plan. So I was about 7 minutes late to work, and here I am writing this as I check clients in.