Known quantity

I think know too much about the things that I don't need to, and too little about the things that I should.

Baring of the soul

I have a confession to make. In my office, as in many similar corporate type offices across the country, our supply buyers are stingy on the TP. There's usually enough (USUALLY) but it's of the flimsy, one-ply nature. Yes, you know. The rolls are kind of an infinity coil when they're brand new - no discernible beginning or end. And what I've observed is that a great number of my coworkers quickly grow frustrated when they are compelled to pull toilet paper off of a new roll. When left to their own devices, they seemingly attempt to effect smooth paper dispersal via random, infuriated clawing at the roll. What is left behind is a roll that looks like a badger has had a go at it and a tall pile of thin shreds below.
So. I now go into the ladies' room at the very start of every day and "start" all the toilet paper rolls in every stall. Thank me later folks!

Debris

I am forever left behind. At every phase of my life I've been the late bloomer, the last-comer. It is a pattern, a motif, it is my brand. Always watching the others before me go through the motions of things that I am waiting for. Then, when I finally arrive at the picnic spot on the lawn where everyone else has already stamped down the grass, it seems hollow, cardboard. I'm not able to savor it since I've already been left behind on the next milestone.

While we're on the subject

Why is chocolate considered to be sexy? I mean, though not my bag, I can understand that some people find it tasty or satisfying, but sexy? Turn on the tv; every commercial for chocolate bars, ice cream, even low-fat artificial chocolate-tinged yogurt features some languid, nubile woman licking, sucking, fellating some vehicle of chocolate delivery. Chocolate turns into brown, silken garments. Who wears chocolate clothes?? Honestly people, just say no.

Chocolate

There are a couple things about chocolate that really bother me, and bother me more and more the more I think about them. First, there's the seemingly universal belief that because I am a woman, I am therefore also a chocoholic. Why must I feign all manner of gratuitous conniptions over chocolate simply because I have more estrogen than the mail guy? I don't HATE chocolate, but honestly too much chocolate comes along pretty quickly. I just don't GET those quintuple chocolate death cakes with fudge sauce and cocoa nibs. Don't you peoples' palates get tired of the onslaught? Have you ever come out in a crowd and said, "Hey, so chocolate. What's the big whoop?" People look at you like you've just confessed to murdering your childhood best friend behind the swingset when you both were 10. All conversation comes to an abrupt and very pointed halt. Finger foods drop from people's suddenly slack lips. You've somehow insulted every one of these people, in a way that is so horrific that none of them will look at you the same way ever again. It's like you've just copped to digging little kids or something. It's on that level. NEVER say you don't have multiple orgasms over chocolate in public. In fact, scratch that - never say it outloud. Period. When everyone at the table is ordering dessert, and you are somehow forced to split yet another flourless chocolate layer cake with the mindless zombie next to you, just do it. Choke down that bollis of cocoa that forms an impenetrable, gluey film inside your mouth and LOVE every second of it. Yum.

How? Just, how? http://health.discovery.com/tv/i-didnt-know-i-was-pregnant/about.html

I'm just saying. There had to be something to clue you in, you know. Though I neither know nor know OF anyone who has experienced this, er, phenomenon. And thanks to this show, I'm perpetually expecting to spontaneously deliver in the ladies' room at work.

More momentousness!

Today, I've set aside an entire day to pack. Because tomorrow, I leave for London where I'll spend the next 5 days and from there I'll be on my way to New Zealand, and then on to Hawaii. It's the trip of a lifetime. I've planned out all sorts of mandatory, touristy stuff but also plenty of off-the-beaten path thisandthat and a sizeable share of downtime to just breath in the far-awayness of the place. I can't wait. Um, haha! Just kidding! I'm not going anywhere. LEAST of all anywhere interesting and global and all. Dude, I don't even have my PASSPORT. The last time I left the country, (hello, spring break in Cancun! Rad!) I used my birth certificate to gain re-entry into my homeland.
Nope, sorry. My dog, however, did pull my mattress nearly all the way off of the bed, shredding my sheets in the process. Smart dog left bored at home for too long, that's what that reeks of. And this is why we're starting doggy junior college tonight.