(no subject)

Lesson learned this weekend: don't eat salsa and chips before bed, because you have whacked ass dreams.

Dream 1: Was long and involved, and I only remember the end, but it was weird enough to recount. Someone in my family died, so there was to be an estate sale. Everyone had to go to the house and spend the night there. Of course because there were so many people, everything was outside to be sold, while everyone slept inside. We're talking crammed into a tiny space, all rooms occupied, blankets on floors kind of sleeping. I was walking around the house and hooked up with a guy that was an actor and sort of a cross between Sam Jones III and the best friend from What I Like About You. We made out, I wanted to have sex (in dreams I'm really horny), and then he told me he was in a celebrity celibacy program, and even showed me a flyer with his name on it. I respected his wishes and went off to try and get un-horny. And then I walked into one of the rooms in the house, where there was one person sleeping and tried to be all cool, because he woke up and it was Tony Stewart. Who was mildly cranky.

Dream 2: Also long and involved, which I don't remember much of, but I do remember the compound that we were trying to figure out in some science class. It was all adults, so I'm guessing it was a college class, but we had to figure out what the third element in the compound was, using evidence. It was like scientific detective work. Very cool, and the freaky thing is...I was dreaming actual element names and someone being damn smart about figuring out what it was (the figuring was not coming from me). And at the same time, I was watching a TV special about Tony's Kids which had to do with foster children and, you got it, Tony Stewart.

For some reason Tony invaded my dreams this weekend. And the Redskins game. But that one wasn't my fault.

(no subject)

One of my boss's friends is down in Louisiana right now. She took a contract job with FEMA. The nature of the job is in keeping with her skill set (and will involve her organizing the hell out of stuff and dealing with the local governments). This woman is great and smart and has a heart of gold.

And she's down there for 90 days, working 14 hours a day, and can't come home for Christmas.

I am SO sending her something. Cookies. A cheesecake. Some sort of gift basket so that she has a little bit of a Christmas. She's living in a hotel, working her butt off to help others and try to fix the mess that government has already caused.

***

One of the partners is having hip replacement surgery. I just found this out. He's having it next week. For grief's sake! How are we supposed to cover for him if he won't tell us!

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My mother's cat (that rides in the stroller) has acne. You read that right, the cat has acne. Under his chin. And is underweight. On the flip side, one of the other cats is overweight. So Miss Hiss has to go on a diet, and so does Miss Priss, but Rascal has to be fed separately now so that he gains weight. And Mom had to by Stridex pads to deal with his acne.

(no subject)

LJ is holding comments hostage again. *sigh* Which really sucks, because my day has been mostly commenting in other people's journals.

*smites LJ*

***

There's jackhammering. Right outside my window. Can I mention how hard it is to answer the phone when you can't hear?

Also, I will be applying a Louisville Slugger to a coworker's kneecaps if he doesn't turn in his timesheet soon. For the week he was on vacation. Which is ONE FRICKIN' NUMBER. He's "too busy".