Dear April

I’m sitting at home thinking dirty thoughts about you. Not just regular dirty thoughts, but really deep down, butt grindin dirty thoughts. That’s right, April, I’m thinking things that would make a Bangkok hooker cringe and I’m thinking these things about you.
Right now.
Have fun at work and tell that one guy he never gave me any cookies and tell the other guy he never made me any lemon bars.
Also, I miss you.

Defending the Freedom of Beaurocracy

I work at an art college. Learning to do art apparently involves dangerous chemicals which get put in things. Having dangerous chemicals in things requires having trained professionals removing it. having trained professionals removing chemicals requires paperwork that needs to be signed.
For whatever reason, the signing of the paperwork has fallen on me even though I have absolutely NOTHING to do with the chemicals, the storage of the chemicals, the removal of the chemicals or the paying of the professionals that remove the chemicals. What I do have is an opposable thumb that can hold a pen.
Guy from Safety-Kleen comes in to say he removed the chemicals and proceeded to tell me what he found. I told him that I only signed the papers because my ancestors evolved special techniques for holding tools.
him: yeah, okay, also the pump was out on the parts washer so I replaced that.
me: you know I’m only feigning interest, right? I’m not going to remember this or tell anyone.
him: you’re doing a good job
me: you could tell me you found monkeys in there and I’d nod and sign the papers.
There was an air of joviality in the office, people love when you are frank and honest about not caring about what they are telling you.
Then he proceeded to tell me not to put gasoline in the parts washer. I don’t even know what a parts washer is or what kinds of parts it washes, i’m certainly not putting gasoline in it. He laughed and told me he was required by law to tell me this and I got to sign the paper detailing how he did in fact tell me.
What the form did not mention was that the only other people who are getting told about this gasoline in the parts washer issue are people who read my website.
So I signed the papers and I had to put down my title.
The state of Minnesota now has me officially on file as
Heather Ward
Space Menace.

I’m So Charmed

My Irish Boy emailed me this morning, he always makes me smile.
Do you remember the CD I gave you by Damien Rice.
Well I don’t know if you ever got around to listening to it or whether you liked it or not. But…I did go to see the man himself on Saturday and asked him to sing the third song on that CD for you.
So he did. �Although he has no idea who you are. �He also wished you happy birthday.
Probably because I lied to him.

A lazy, snowy day conversation

The scene:
Jen’s at the dining room table, working at her computer. I’m slouched down on the couch with my laptop on my lap and a bag of Cheetohs next to me.
Jen: Is un-altruistic a word?
Me: (mumbles) no
Jen: Well, what’s the opposite of altruistic?
Me: Asshole
Jen: I’m making it a word. Adding a hyphen makes it a real word.
Me: huh…okay.