ammogirl

…while the maximum speed limit does not also mean minimum speed limit, why drive slower?  If I can go 70 kmh, I don’t want to go 50 kmh.

…conversely, if I am going the maximum speed on base, where the cops are totally willing to pull you over for going one over the limit, why ride my ass like I’m a hooker and you’re my client?  That just makes me cuss at you in my rearview mirror.

…why does promoting a healthier environment for our planet synonymous with being a tree-hugger?  And why is being “green” so widely derided?  How is it a bad thing?

…why do people at work have contests over who can get in earlier and stay later?  Just get your work done in the hours you are officially required to be there.

…why does food have to have calories?  And why do I have to like food so much?

…why heat up your food to such a hot temperature that you have to wait ten minutes for it to cool down, and then still have to blow on it before you put it in your mouth?  Just heat it up to eating temperature. (reheating, not cooking.  I don’t promote mouth-temperature chicken or anything.)

…why do so many businesses refuse to ship to APO addresses?  I want to buy stuff, you guys, and am thwarted at every turn.

…why do people think being professional and getting work done = never ever having a sense of humour?

…when I walk in the bathroom at work, and people are pooping, why can’t they just stay in there until I leave?  I don’t want to stand at the sink with you and acknowledge that you just took a crap.  Because now I not only know that you just pooped, I also know what your poop smells like.  And I don’t want to know that.

…and by the way, can you not just poop at home?  No?  WHY?  Unless you are sick with The Diarrhea, you can train your body to do these things, at home, in your own private bathroom.  Workplace pooping should be banned!

Well…I think that’s it.  If anyone wants to leave your thoughts in the comments to help me understand these issues better, feel free!  But…only if you agree with me.  Especially on the pooping.

Tschuss!!

While both of my girls are really great, and do extremely well in school and are polite to adults, I’m sort of…undecided on their choices in friends. One of my daughters hangs out with girls who fight over who can get the highest grade in class and are running for student body president. The other hangs out with girls who are able to spend time with their boyfriends at the skatepark–unsupervised. I’ll give you a second or two to decide which scenario I like better.

…

I bet you got it right! Aghhhh! Why do parents let their children do stuff that is not appropriate? Why does every girl in the 6th, 7th, and 8th grade wear eyeshadow and eyeliner and have myspace accounts? Why am I the only person who doesn’t think that’s okay? I hate having girls! I worry over everything! It is impossible to find that happy medium between letting your kid grow up and making them stay kids. And of course, I’m the last person who can be in the middle on anything. So.

There was a bazaar on base this weekend, where two aircraft hangers and a large pavilion were full up with vendors selling everything you could imagine: furniture, cheese, rugs, model airplanes, pottery…wine…of which I bought 14 bottles of. It was so awesome, you guys, wine vendors everywhere. And every single one of them gives out samples. I very nearly got a buzz.

While I was enjoying myself with my free wine, John took the girls over to the booth his work was running for the bazaar–they were selling fried candybars, which are…not gross, per se, but…just not my thing. You know, because I wanted to save my saturated fat intake for the peanut butter pie I had made Friday night.

I was supposed to go to a bbq on Saturday with that pie, in addition to a batch of fudgy good brownies, but I totally suck with directions, even good directions, and therefore, got lost. It was okay though, because that meant that peanut butter pie was all for us. And let me tell you…it was fucking awesome. I had two pieces on Saturday, like one right after the other. I couldn’t resist!

Anyway, I’d love to stay and chat but…I think I have something to do.

Tschuss!!

You guys, I have been craving pancakes for approximately eight days straight now, and this morning I just couldn’t stand it anymore.  I couldn’t even imagine drinking yet another slimfast for breakfast, so when my favorite co-workers got to work, I organized an outing to the golf course restaurant so we could all enjoy the all-you-can-eat buffet.
Scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, sausage and four pancakes later, I was officially sated.  And stuffed.  And then, I had to come to work.  And then I spent the next four hours totally regretting the pancakes because holy crap did they ever make me sleepy.

I want to clarify something, and with much intensity: that mini-van is not for me.  No, the stipulation I placed on getting it was that I will be continuing to drive my sporty little Scion TC.  It’s John’s mini-van, not mine.  I did realize one benefit of having it this morning.  Since John has forty-thousand things going on this weekend, I was contemplating out-loud whether I would just go ahead with the pick-up of Taylor and her friends for a sleepoever this evening.  “How many girls are there? Taylor and three friends?”  John confirmed that yes, that was correct.  “Four pre-teen girls?  Whoops, not enough room in my car!  Guess it’s all you!”  Of course, I’m the one hanging out at home with them this evening, so.  Whatever, it’s all relative.

I’m sleepy.

Tschuss!!