Works in Progress
Wavy scarf for Christmas present in Manos del Uruguay (mostly on the shuttle, so it's slow going)

Current Obsession
Head.Must.Stay.Above.Water.

Last Google Search
Airline prices from Sacramento to Memphis - my parents have both sold their houses!

Woo-Hoo!
We have tickets for the Old 97's on October 16! Happy anniversary, honey!

Loving
My Netflix queue, which saves me from real TV

Munching
Burritos with home-cooked pintos, sharp cheddar and spinach

Cooking
Roasted peppers with crumbled queso fresco

Garden stuff
My poor garden - totally neglected and dry.

Archives
April 2003
May 2003
June 2003
July 2003
August 2003
September 2003
October 2003
November 2003
December 2003
January 2004
February 2004
March 2004
April 2004
May 2004
June 2004
July 2004
August 2004

You talkin' to me?
eMail
Notes
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Many thanks to:
Diaryland
PixelScripts
Artwork © Lian Quan Zhen

Previously...

i got a new attitude - September 24, 2004

- - September 22, 2004

- - September 20, 2004

Is this thing on? - September 20, 2004

- - September 15, 2004

2003-05-12

2003-05-12 - 9:35 a.m.

Dear Honored Co-Workers:

In the next few days, you may witness some unusual sounds and gestures coming from over my way. For instance, you may overhear me scream, "Oh sweet Jesus" when rising from my chair, or discover me walking like a rigid automaton through the halls. I think it will make more sense to you after seeing this:

That, sehr geheerte Mitarbeiterinnen, is my shoulder and the top of my boob. Resembles cooked lobster shell and raw lobster meat, doesn't it? Now, beloved cubby-sharers, try to imagine walking when the backs of your knees look like this. Try to imagine sitting down for 8 hours when the fold between ass and thigh looks like this. Feel me. Know me.

I'll much appreciate your understanding if, when peeling the loosest possible silk dress off my back while in the bathroom, you don't react to my hopping up and down in agony yelling, "fuckit fuckit fuckit!". It would be gracious of you to ignore the smell of cooked skin, aloe vera and Body Shop Sesame Body Butter which is currently seeping from my unhappy pores.

I'll further harbor loving thoughts if you don't comment on my not being able to wear anything more supportive than a tank top, leaving my maracas to bob around like apples in a tin bucket. But most of all, I'll love you for life if you never, ever walk up behind me, put your hand on my insanely stinging shoulder and say, "Wow, this is going to turn into a great tan!"

Half-polish women don't tan, you morons. This will be still be peeling when your firstborn has knocked up more Baskin Robbins employees than Charlie Sheen. Now please, don't touch me. If I have to kill you, it'll make my skin shift positions and I might lose the optimal body butter/skin connection.

Thanks and all the best,

Kaetchen



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