GOOD MORNING!!!!

I found a cache of Starbucks Breakfast Blend coffee in The Pit kitchen and made up a double batch of the brew. I am now HIGH AS ALL SITH HELL. I feel like Stan the Coffee Guy from Mad TV.

WHEE!

Today is a most auspicious one. I will be calling to make an appointment for my very first mammogram. Since I'm becoming an old crone, my OB-GYN thinks it's a good idea that I get my boobs crushed by a machine straight out of The Matrix. I'm curious as to what they'll find since I have that fibro-cystic thing that's compounded by caffeine ingestion and my chest has been a topological map of the Himalayas ever since my seatbelt injuries from the wreck a couple of years back.

So far, I have very little work. No work and a caffeine high do not an agreeable couple make. I'm going to be trampling through the office like a spastic bison, I just know it. Maybe I should catch up on my filing, if I can stay still long enough. I'm four months behind. Never have I been this far behind. This is a sign of complete apathy and disgust. Big surprise there!

In other news, I heard that scientists have equated sperm with pond scum and, as a result, may be able to create a birth control pill for men. When asked if this was a good idea, every woman interviewed expressed an over-abundance of cynicism. Why? Because, aeons ago, women equated men with pond scum.....looooong before the scientists figured out any remote similarity. Heh.

Speaking of pond scum, I expect to be thoroughly disregarded this coming Valentine's Day, despite an out-of-character desire to be wined, dined, romanced, and showered with gifts. Le sigh.

This post is disjointed because, if I haven't mentioned it already, I'm HIGH. High high high.

Joanie

My coworker Joanie is going to Urgent Care with a racing heart, light-headedness, and a general feeling of malaise. The Feudal Mistress is taking her because we were afraid to let Joanie drive. Once she knows something, the FM is supposed to call either Judy or myself to let us know what's going on.

Joanie Update

Well, it wasn't her heart. They're checking her blood to see if her sugar is wonky, but she appears to be all right. The Feudal Mistress will be returning later on after Joanie decides whether or not she wants to come back to The Pit or be taken home. If I were her, I'd go home and forget this place for the rest of the day. It was probably a panic attack brought about by being here in the first place.

Birth Year

Thanks, ealdthryth!

Please note who else was born in 1967....Dave Matthews...Vin Diesel....it was a FINE year.

In 1967 (the year you were born)

Lyndon B. Johnson is president of the US President Johnson and Soviet premiere Aleksei Kosygin agree not to let any crisis push them into wore Thurgood Marshall is sworn in as the first black Supreme Court justice The first home microwave is released by Amana Dave Matthews, Kurt Cobain, Liz Phair, Vin Diesel, Julia Roberts, and Anna Nicole Smith are born St. Louis Cardinals win the World Series Green Bay Packers in Super Bowl I Boston Bruins win the Stanley Cup Disney's The Jungle Book and The Graduate are the top grossing films One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez is published Paul McCartney announces that all four members of the Beatles have "dropped acid" For the first time, Jimi Hendrix sets his guitar on fire during a concert in London Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band is released The first issue of Rolling Stone magazine is published The FCC orders that cigarette ads on television, radio and in print must include a warning about the health risks of smoking

What Happened the Year You Were Born?

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Joanie, Gail, Llew, etcetera

Shortly before 4, the Feudal Mistress returned without Joanie. She took Joanie home before coming back to work. It turns out that Joanie did indeed have an anxiety attack. At least it wasn't anything more serious than that. Still, though, that's not good. There's a question as to whether or not Joanie will be coming back to work tomorrow, but she needs to take care of herself first. Tasha Yar has been out with influenza for the majority of this week and may not be back tomorrow, and the Feudal Mistress has a vacation day scheduled tomorrow. Soooo, it may just be Judy and myself. For about 2 hours today, I was the only person in my department. Judy had to leave at 2:30, and the FM was still at Urgent Care with Joanie. Once the FM returned, I stayed over a half hour to help get her caught up. See? I can be a nice person and a team player. The Feudal Mistress was being nice to my homie Joanie, so what else could I do?

I spoke with Gail today. She sounded horrible, having been fighting a sinus infection that seems to have developed into bronchitis. I stressed to her that she needed to go on to the doc if it didn't clear up soon, 'cos she's been sick for two weeks now. We've made tentative plans to get together in the next week or so to catch up. There are rumblings that a new issue of The Howling could be in the offing if we can evoke some Gothly inspirations and rally all the local writers who are inclined to Darkness, the Strange, and the Unusual. Then again, it doesn't have to be just local. The last issue we had contained work from folks all over the country, including Michelle. And one of our main peeps, mercymanic will absolutely have to be on board, even though she's too damned far away for my personal satisfaction. Come home, Winnifox!!!

I've been home from Llew's for about 40 minutes now. He was interested in buying the 4-track and the voice box, but it turns out that there is actually something wrong with the recorder. There's a connection somewhere in there that is intermittent at best, which means no recording is going to be certain. It worked fine at the Father Unit's place, but it's just not happening here. Personally, I think the thing is possessed. To top off that disappointment, I forgot to take the Shriek tape to him, so now it will have to wait until Sunday or Monday. I also forgot to return his Secretary DVD. Dagnabbit!

Aunt Tudi is taping the Happy Days reunion and I plan on watching it over the weekend. I'm a child of the 70s, so there's no doubt I'll be watching this wondrous bit of nostalgia. I always had a crush on Potsie, and I could say "Aaaaaaaayyyyyy" whilst belching, like every other kid in my elementary school. We were so damned cool.

Tomorrow promises a trip to Wally World after work. Needless to say, I dread it. I dread it every week. My heart fills with trepidation at the very thought.

This weekend, I need to get B's lyrics up on his site. Also, Aunt Tudi and I need to clean out our freezer in the utility room and do some routine home maintenence. Little Michael should be calling in the next day or so with some honourable plumbers who won't take all my money and show me their ass-crack while doing nothing to resolve my leak issues. Words cannot sufficiently express my horror at the thoughts of the inevitable bill for this work. I'm gonna have to sell a kidney just to be assured of a working shower.

I may call B tomorrow as I haven't heard from him in aeons and I'm curious as to the progress of the new Shriekback project. Another purpose for the call is to feel him out on how he'd deal with my coming to England. Would he want to meet me? Would he run and hide in Egypt during my stay, feeling I may be yet another incarnation of Annie Wilkes? "Oh, Barry, I'm your number one fan. Let me hobble you so you can't postpone recording more music!" Or would he cut out my heart and affix it to a pike while I watched with fading vision? Too much imagination and too little motivation is what breeds these ridiculous ravings.... not to mention irrational fear and possible psychosis. "Your ridiculous fears, I know how to allay them. I can smile and be sweet...."

I also need to call Timothy, but I really wanted to hit Onederland before we meet for lunch, so I may put that off for another week or so. Whenever we meet, I want to try to fix it to where Trav can attend as well. It's been a long time since we've all yukked it up together and I think it's long overdue. If only Dominic could be there too.

That's it for me. I'm retiring for the eve. Here's to Friday!

Before I go...

Since the swollen, sore tastebuds on normal people's tongues are called lie bumps, what are they called on the tongues of pathalogical liars? Truth bumps?