My feet, I fear, are completely destroyed. I reported to work last night in fancy-pants, as required, along with corresponding shirt and funeral shoes. Now I think every tiny feet bone has been shattered and snapped, and I am a living, breathing blister museum.
I can barely walk, and that’s not really an exaggeration. My feet might have to come off, and be replaced with cedar posts or something. Good god. I now realize funeral shoes are only designed to be worn for two or three hours at a clip, not twelve.
And I’m going to have 2×2 cedar feet, for the rest of my life!
Some dude’s coming here this afternoon, to install a new garage door opener. Ours looks like it dates from the Johnson Administration, and finally said fukkit. So, I’ve been the only person who can lift the heavy garage door, and that’s not exactly convenient…
Last night, for instance, I had to come home at 2:30 am and drag our trash cans to the curb — while wearing cruel shoes. And there was an inch or so of new snow on the driveway, so I was sliding all around. Dress shoes are like freakin’ skis on snow, and at one point my feet were moving in opposite directions, and I had no control over it.
I nearly did a full David Lee Roth split, in the dark of night, while holding a recycling bin full of milk cartons. Oh, the humanity!
I’m finally going to watch the season premier of LOST tonight. Toney couldn’t (wouldn’t) wait on me, so she’s already seen it. Her capsule review: too weird. What’s your two-word reaction to the first LOST of the new season? And please don’t ruin anything for me, with your two words. I’d be much obliged.
And I guess the winter Olympics are coming up? Is that correct? Hopefully NBC will take my advice this time, and offer a separate cable channel where they air nothing but the sob stories.
You know what I’m talking about, right? Every Olympics broadcast is now loaded, simply loaded, with tear-jerking backstories about the athletes, designed to inject additional reality show drama into the proceedings.
And I have a feeling there are plenty of people who would like to see nothing but those reports — without all the pesky athletic competition interrupting the flow of things.
“When Sven was seven years old he was diagnosed with a rare disease that makes it impossible for him to pronounce capital letters. This affected his self-esteem greatly, and he turned to the sport of horseback ski-jumping as an outlet…”
You know what I’m saying. I hope they have a channel where we can watch that stuff, round the clock.
And the garage door opener guy just left: biggest asshole I’ve met all week. Just an utter, full-on dick. Grrr… That didn’t help my already foul mood today, it really didn’t. But I can open the door now without exploding an ovary. So that’s good, I guess.
Sorry this one’s short and kinda late, but Mr. Personality had the electricity turned off in this section of the house for the past three hours. So there you go.
I don’t really have a related Question. I was going to ask whether you’ve ever REALLY gotten a good deal in a dollar store, or Big Lots, or one of those dumpy places. And you can go with that if you’d like. But frankly, I’m losing enthusiasm here…
I need to sign off, and go make sure there’s enough beer in the basement fridge. And I always know enough when I see it.
Have a great rest of the day, my friends.
I’ll be back soon. See ya then.