Technology. Hot damn. The phone has arrived. I am playing about with it and downloading apps and feeling like a Thoroughly Modern Millie. Or something. It does seem a bit overwhelming to have the XBox on, streaming Netflix over the TV and have my laptop on along with this phone. I am not composing this on the phone, however, since I probably couldn’t get it done before midnight. My fingers are not that fleet as of yet.
Apropos of nothing, I have some kind of leg wound. I hope it doesn’t fester and lead to my untimely death.
My co-worker is on vacation and those who remain at the office are sort of surreptitiously prowling about with smiles on their faces for how quiet it is and how much at ease we are despite the fact that we’re all stressed and unhappy in our own ways. Mr. Rochester actually came to see me for business purposes and I realize now, how bugged I am that I look like such a hot mess. Seriously, buttered roadkill in a purple jumper. Self-deprecation can be useful when you’re floating along in a world devoid of any personal analysis whatsoever. It at least gets you thinking. Having a giddy, stupid grin on your face doesn’t ameliorate the fact that you’re wearing only the thinnest, patchiest layer of foundation and you’ve got harridan hair, all lumps and wisps and brave as you may be, you are probably just making a fool of yourself.
I live under the heavy heel of my own potential foolishness.
Maybe I’m not so upset about it, but I wish it might have been otherwise. There was an alternative result. And it didn’t help that there was more joking about me dating someone I find sort of socially repugnant in our business circle simply because the word came down that he was divorced from his fairly famous wife whom it seems fairly obvious to me was completely dragged down by his wheedling, carnie act. I finally said, when they joked that I should give him my number, that I don’t like him and that won’t be happening. Sort of nice to be truthful about it, about anything.
So I’m on the prowl for the right weight loss application and I’m sure that means the spambots will be all over this post and suggesting all sorts of things via gibberish and cyrillic. There’s one out there that will help me track meal by meal without having to enter 10,000 things and estimate everything so roundly that I don’t actually know what I’m eating.
We’re starting to make the Christmas Eve meal plans. Our family tradition is just to have a ton of appetizers and watch a movie together and open some of our presents. I have some ideas about what to contribute including midori sours. A cursory google search for a recipe reveals that Midori sours have as much as 300 calories in them. SAY WHAT?
Sometimes you can’t win for drinking. This is the kind of information that the information age really ought to mis-file and lose in some rusting file cabinet somewhere.