The building manager must read my blog. That’s the only explanation I can come up with for this heat I feel coming from the vents.
After a month of complaining and one day of blog bitching, it’s finally fixed. Which really makes me regret the three pairs of socks I’m wearing, and the triple dose of cold medicine I took in expectation of ending up ill.
It’s probably short-lived, but I plan to enjoy every second of it. Sweet, sweet heat, how I love thee.
The building manager of my office is a heat Nazi. I’m a wuss when it comes to the cold, but when even my clients are complaining, there’s definitely a problem. When asked today why the AC was on he replied, “That it is warm and sunny outside.” BASTARD!
Sarah: “Hey, I’m going to meet the punk rock kids at the bar to watch the Patriots game. Do you want to come?”
Ben: “I can’t, I’m watching Silence of the Lambs and the game here.”
Sarah: “Um, why?”
Ben: “I’m comparing the two. Hannibal Lecter and the Patriots have lots in common. Hannibal likes to tease his victims and take his time, just like the Patriots.”
Sarah: “I’ll never understand why girls like you. I know you’re a cool guy, but you probably come off as the skin-suit kind of guy.”
Ben: “Chicks dig the mullet.”
This year for Christmas I gave myself this blanket from Restoration Hardware. It’s quite possibly the best blanket in the entire world. I’ve never had a blanket so soft. I’m positive I’m snuggling under the skinned carcasses of teddy bears. I’m from the country, I’m down with dead animals touching me. As long as they stay away from my digestive system I’m good.
The description on the website says this blanket is “generously sized for cuddling.” Which is a big fat marketing lie. I’m not a large girl and there is no way I could fit another person comfortably under this thing. I am selfish with my blankets and like to be covered head to toe before allowing my blanket to tough another individual. Any individual, even a dog.
Daisy seems to think just because she is the same color as the blanket, I won’t notice her hair all over it. Once I caught her laying on the blanket, I moved it to where she couldn’t reach it while I’m gone. This afternoon when I got home she had found the blanket and was sound asleep on it.
Needless to say, I was pissed. This one-eyed dog who can’t manage to pour me a glass of wine or anything useful, can find a well-hidden blanket. Dogs would do anything for a good nap, which is way more than even Ben would do for comfort. Unless the blanket smelled like bacon.
I am not a morning person. This is a well-known fact among my friends and previous bosses. I cannot function properly until after ten. This sucks for any of the clients I do work for, but…
I’ve tried everything: going to bed earlier, tripling my morning dose of coffee, massive does of morning meth and still nothing works.
Over the past year I’ve started turning into my mother by forgetting things right and left. Mornings are by far the worst time for remembering any details. I’m not talking about complicated details, just the basic essential items…like getting dressed. I’ve left the house and headed to the office in slippers multiple times in the last few months. Luckily it’s been cold so I’ve remembered pants–no one wants a frozen hiney.
As I’ve mentioned here and here, I’ve started leaving myself reminder notes on my front door to ensure some things aren’t forgotten. Today’s is by far the worst of the bunch:
If I have to remind myself why I’m leaving the house it might be time to admit defeat and just stay home.
I love this post!
It reminds me of the great Hillary Duff incident of ’06.
I was standing in line when the woman behind me commented on my Hillary ‘08 shirt, “Oh My God, I loooooove Hillary Duff. She’s coming in ’08? That’s so exciting!”
Had she been a kid I’d have gone along with her, but she was a middle-aged woman. She should have known better. “No, this is a Hillary Clinton shirt. You know the Hillary who isn’t twelve?”
I could have been nicer, I guess, but I was just annoyed since that encounter wasn’t the first. In hindsight, I should have just bought the Duff shirt and been done with it.
