Title: Marcie repents and kisses your ass
Music du jour: Ben Folds Five, Whatever and Ever, Amen
Mea Culpa:
You know, back when I took a month off, I had towering plans to come back in a blaze of glory. I knew that I would probably lose some of you (thanks to anyone who stuck around through the hiatus), but I was going through some serious reality checks at the time, so what the hell. A break was in order. I was gone about three weeks longer than I intended to be. But I figured I would redeem myself when I got back.
"This time," I promised myself, "I'll update more than once a week. My Web site will be riveting. It'll be fascinating. It'll be GLAMOROUS! I will draw people in with my rapier wit and my concisely written, timely entries will send them into gales of laughter, causing my readers to fall out of their chairs in convulsions of hysterics! I'll update once -- nay, THREE TIMES -- every day! I'll gain fame! Glory! Money!"
Well. Obviously I'm a dipshit, or else Too Damn Busy, because it hasn't happened. It drives me crazy reading journals that update sporadically, or with more than about two days between entries. Since I'm a hypocrite, but trying to reform myself, I shall change my ways. It is my solemn pledge to you, my loyal fans (all two of you), that I will write at least every other day from now on, even if, like today, I really don't have anything worth writing about. Who wants to hear my babblings? You do, that's who. Admit it... you're enthralled with my Trek-style techno-babble. At least pretend. Now that I've sufficiently groveled, I'll move on.
My Name is Marcie, And I'm an Addict:
I really need a Coke right now. Is it bad that I'm not addicted to coffee, but I am addicted to Coke? Oh well. Such is life. We are, in fact, out of Coke in the break room. Again. Sarah the office manager went to Costco on Thursday last week and got 3 cases of the stuff, and it was gone yesterday afternoon. I stand astonished at this company's ability to suck back soft drinks. It's the developers, I tell you. Sarah put a sign up in her office window in 72-point font: "I *KNOW* WE'RE OUT OF COKE," with a hand-written note underneath: "Pace yourselves, people!"
I simply must give the stuff up, lest I pickle my liver, but I'm a whiny bitch and probably never will. But, since I'm so conscientious about my girlish figure and all, I try to at least drink a bottle of water every time I drink a Coke. The dehydration must balance itself out somewhere along the line, right? Right. Humor me.
And speaking of my bloated lard, Ian and I went to check out the Longmont Fitness Center the other day. (The thing that weirds me out is that Longmont actually has a fitness center (two, even). Longmont is a total glorified cow town if there ever was one. I keep expecting to see my relatives driving down Main Street -- yes, it's actually called that -- in a beat-up Chevy truck.) The extremely athletic blonde girl at the front desk was perky and cheerful, but I didn't run away. We toured the place and watched the guys flex and glare in the free weights room, the middle-aged executives trying to do lay-ups on the basketball court, the housewives sweating in the aerobics class. Seeing the freaks of nature at the gym actually makes me feel better about my tubbiness. One day, I swear to you, I will be a buff, jock dyke who can flatten a punching bag with the merest glance of my gimlet eyes. Really, I will. I used to run a mile and a half in twelve minutes in college. I can do it again. I must pump myself up. I must be motivated and enthusiastic. Go me! Yeah!
In pursuit of my fitness goals (which can be summarized thusly: "lose the fucking geek gut that resembles the belly of a starved Ethopian child"), of course, last night I ordered a damn pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. Love me because I'm so single-minded in my pursuit of the perfect body.
I Love My Job, Hoorah, Gung Ho, Kill Kill Kill:
Well, our ticketing system is now in place, and holy shit, people are actually USING IT. I may die of shock. The next thing I have to deal with is installing Windows *spit* on Bradley's old box and using it for a testbed for crappy software (like there's any other kind for Windows). I downloaded an application for my Visor that may make my life easier: it gives you two windows, one for your daily calendar and the other for your to-do list. I have about seven things on my to-do list, all of which needed to be done yesterday. Who knew. But I really enjoy this job. If I could work swing shift, I'd enjoy it even better. I never get anything done the first two hours of the day. It's a law. My productivity is inversely proportional to how early I come in in the morning.
It is now time to think about supper. Wouldn't it be weird if I went home during daylight hours today? Wild, I say. I'm living la vida loca now. Miss me.
-- marcie.