ammogirl

Or not. My wireless network has been down for a week, and despite my MANY, MANY efforts to fix it (including asking a friend with more knowledge than I), I finally decided to just get a new damn router. So I did, and now my wireless network works. Brilliant! Except for the Xbox 360, that’s not connected yet so we can’t stream movies but I DON’T CARE because the girls and I are not all fighting over John’s computer, which has been the one-and-only internet connection for six days.

I have talked to John several times during this week and boy, he can’t wait for this to be over. I don’t envy what he’s doing, for real. Three people to a dorm room, you guys. Can you imagine the bathroom issues I would have?

Oh, happy Friday the 13th. I had an audition (hee…that sounds so…audition-y) today for the EMCEE position at our upcoming USAFE Annual Awards banquet. Not sure how that went–for all my public speaking woes I honestly have no problem at all reading from a script–but I’ll find out on Monday if I got it or not. Was I nervous? Uh…no. I was wearing my glasses-of-confidence, so nerves were not even an option. Have I told you about my glasses? Probably not, since I’ve posted approximately three times in the past year. If you need glasses, the military will issue you one pair a year, and when I say issue I mean they are free. However, this has not ever been an awesome thing because the choices a sight-impaired person used to have involved BCGs, or BCGs. BCGs standing for Birth Control Glasses, and yes, I have had several pairs in my military career. I wore them all through basic training, and man I really have to find the one picture I have with me in them because: wooooo. a-TTRAC-tive. FYI, that picture up there is a genuine pair o’ BCGs. Take another gander, I’ll wait…

…now, how awesome are those? Hard to believe that I didn’t have any admirers in basic training, right? Anyway, that’s what the choice was until like, the last time I went to the optometrist, when suddenly, BAM! New, contemporary choices! Actual real-life frames! So I got a pair and I actually love them and wear them as much as possible. No, I don’t have a picture. I just wanted to talk about them.

Time to go watch The Office!

Tschuss!!

I just got off the phone with John, who Skyped me out of the blue. He’s doing good–not great, by any means, but good. He’s completely hoarse from all the yelling they have to do, and the most low-key I’ve ever heard him in my life, but still John overall. I’m so happy right now!

In other really crap-ass news, the internet went down here last night and I couldn’t get it reset, and then in trying to get it reset I ACTUALLY reset the router, which erases all of its settings and puts them back to factory. Well. I didn’t know this little tidbit of information until I went on base to the Cyber Cafe and downloaded the product manual BUT it didn’t help in anyway because while I have the internet working on one computer now, I don’t know how to set up a home network. In other words, this one-desktop, three-laptop, one-mac household of internet lovin’ girls is now reduced to sharing a single source and HI THAT SUCKS. But don’t worry, I have resources! Whom I will purchase lunch for! And then they will happily help me!

Did I use ‘whom’ correctly? I never know.

Oh also, I just found out tonight that the girls, with WHOM I imagined I shared a communal love of fresh pesto, actually don’t like it at all. Which sort of put the kibosh on tonight’s dinner plans (chicken and pesto fettuccine) but also pretty much brought to an end all my pesto-y dinners. Oh well. MORE FOR ME.

Tschuss!

So I’m sitting here planning my day, figuring out what I need to do: shower, boxing up things to mail, post office, taking Lou downtown etc. and while doing so I was eating my breakfast. Oatmeal, if you’re wondering. Which has a tendency to fall from the spoon onto your shirt, if you are sloppy. And, if you are lazy (and getting into the shower in the very near future), you just wipe up the large chunk and leave the rest there, which is what I did.

So I’m wearing pyjamas, I have a dirty oatmeal splotch right in the middle of my shirt, I’m not wearing a bra (pyjamas, remember), and my hair is dirty. Andddd…the doorbell rings. “WHAT?” I think, frantically, “who is THAT?” as I glanced toward the door and saw a large figure outside. Not able to then pass off this obviously adult visitor to the girls, I pulled back my hair and opened it, fully expecting one of the construction guys from next door telling me they were blocking the road again or something. But instead, it’s Frank, the property manager for this house, and he wants to check on our 2nd floor hot water problem.

I let him in, explain the problem, and THEN remember the dirty oatmeal splotch. And the no bra.

Awesome.

I spent the rest of the time with my arms crossed very high on my chest.

And now I have to go take a shower in our no-hot-water shower.

Tschuss!