Events and Tuesday Ten

Last night Llew discovered he needed to do a bank transfer immediately. The problem is his bank is about 35 miles away in TR, so he called Melanie last night to make arrangements for either her or Billy to take him first thing this morning. Unfortunately, Melanie is ill and it wasn't definite that Billy would be able to take him. Both vehicles at Llew's house are 5-speeds and Llew can't use his leg to work the clutch. What to do, what to do!? At first, he said he'd just deal with it and drive if he had to, but I suggested that he bring me to work this morning and take my car, since it's automatic. He wasn't very keen on it at first until we were reminded that "Battlestar Galactica" was coming on last night. Since we wanted to see this together and, if Llew was going to try to get one of the kids to take him to the bank, he would have had to have left last night and missed the show, he swiftly took me up on my offer. Leave it to a couple of Sci-Fi nerds to decide the course of the next 24 hours of their lives based on the airing of a "Sci-niseries".

So, Llew brought me to work this morning and will be back to pick me up around 3:30 this afternoon so I can make my doc appointment. He and Aunt Tudi are going to Travellers Rest and Goddess knows where else. They've a full tank of gas and nothing better to do but to get in trouble. Yeeee!

As for me, I'm sleepy, hungry, and cold. The only thing that would make me feel better is a cup of hot chicken soup, some woolen socks, and a pillow for my desk. Since I don't have any of those, I guess I'll just post some extra quizzes.
( quizzes to warm the heart, toes, and nose )

Jew-Gentile Relations

The oddest thing just happened.

My Feudal Mistress was complaining about something, what I did not know because I couldn't hear from my cube to the area where she stood. It was not a biggie as I really didn't want to hear her anyway. But then she came over to my cube and said, "I'm not sure if you heard what I was saying over there about one Jew ruining the holiday spirit for everyone else, but I wasn't referring to you in any way. I just wanted to apologise if you took offence to this."

It turns out that a fellow in the neighbouring office had something snide to say to Mary, who is passing around snowman ornaments to everyone. He's apparently staunchly Jewish or is playing at it just to raise the ire of the Fundamental Mob that comprises the majority of his coworkers. Whatever it is, the Feudal Mistress was complaining about him.

What's so odd about this is that my Feudal Mistress rarely, if ever, apologises for her glaring deficiencies in the Tact Department. Usually, tactless people don't apologise for being so because they don't have enough tact to realise that they are indeed tactless. So here she is apologising to me, who isn't even a practicing Jew, even though half my family can be counted among the Chosen of God. I told her I didn't care as I celebrated (or is that fail to celebrate?) every damned thing since I've got Fundies, Jews, Agnostics, Atheists, Mormons, and Amway members in my family and I, myself, am nought but a simple Wiccan.

As an aside, I've noticed that my Feudal Mistress has been terribly nice to me these past couple of weeks. It's rather disconcerting and is getting more than a bit paranoid. Why is she treating me like I have more than two brain cells to rub together? Why is she sending jokes via email? Does it mean that she readying to sack me? Or is she lulling me into a false sense of security before the hammer falls and enslaves me even more? Maybe she's being nice because she knows that no raise will be coming in 2004 either and she's attempting to soften the blow of poverty. Who the hell knows?

Maybe I should abandon my Pagan ways and embrace this whole Chosen of God motif. If I do, perhaps it will save me from the imminent horrors surely to follow the Feudal Mistress' affable mood.

nah....

1500

This is my 1500th post.

woo me!

This means one of two things.

1. I have absolutely no life


2. I have a helluva lot going on in my life and choose to immortalise in journal format

I'm leaning toward option one.

What a low-down dirty rotten shame...

George Clinton goes to the Pokey.