I love the way getting on the Blogs of Note almost…
I love the way getting on the Blogs of Note almost always results in a little Oscar ceremony-like speech by the blogger in question. “I’d like to thank Ev, my mother, my friend Alicia, without whose epileptic fits this blog would be nothing, and especially the 7 or 8 people who visit my site each and every day, rain or shine.*sniff* This…this is for you!” (cue blogger to burst into tears and have to be led off stage).
My speech would be something like “I’d like to thank Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr., for without the assassination of these two men causing the rampant chaos and atmosphere of uncertainty in 1968, certain chemicals would have never leaked into my still-developing fetus and warped my mind in such a way as to produce such the social misfit you see before you today. I think Lyndon Johnson and at least two of the Beatles helped out a little, as well. I’m not sure because I didn’t get out much back then.”
Alright, enough blogging about blogging already. Sheesh!
I took the online test today for the job I am going for (I realize that I really mangled that sentence, which is somewhat inappropriate considering the job in question is an editing job). According to Murphy’s Law, I should have had a flurry of urgent cases descend suddenly from all corners of the office, all of which had to be done in a year starting with ’19’. Well, let me tell you, Murphy’s Law was working perfectly this morning. Still, I managed to (just) finish the test, but there was not much time to proofread what I had just done. But what’s done is done, so all I can do now is wait for the results. Wish me luck. I have a sneaking suspicion I’m going to need it.
Our boss’ birthday is tomorrow, so we just had a little celebration in the lobby and made little deprecating, unfunny jokes about her cutting the cake. I wanted to shout “Hey, how old are you now? 65? 70?”, but I didn’t want to lose my share of the fruit and sushi. I drew the line at singing Happy Birthday in Chinese and English while clapping my hands like some sort of anime character wannabe, though. The nice thing about working for a large company is that there is always someone else to lick the boss’ ass. If the organization is too small, there’s always the chance that you’ll have to do it, and I am the world’s worst ass-licker. No wonder I can’t get a date.
Our rehearsal last night was rather unproductive, but it was nice to get together anyway. Dean wants to implement swordfighting in the play, but I doubt a director that refused to show the decapitation and bloody, severed head at the end would be too keen on adding any further violence. We’re supposed to have a large crowd this weekend, as ticket sales have reportedly really taken off, and with Gavin at the door, we might just get some violence whether we like it or not. You would understand what I mean by this if you had ever met Gavin, who is shortish, red-headed, continuously in motion and almost the exact opposite of the shyest person you know. I would actually have a hard time imagining him staying at the door long enough to collect tickets were it not for the possibility for physical conflict to keep him there.
After Dr. Wei took my stitches out (there were six of them, by the way), he said “Now, don’t pull the wound apart.”
“Why would I do that?” I asked.
“Well, I’m just saying…”
“Do people do that? Do people purposely pull their own wounds apart after they get their stitches out?”
“Just don’t, ok?” he said, a bit miffed. “I have to tell you that in case you’re dumb enough to do it and then sue me for not telling you the bleeding obvious.”