Thursday, June 08, 2006
I've been trying to post this since 3:00 this afternoon. I guess the Google Gods decided that Blogger needed to be deep cleaned or something. Maybe their Mother-in-Law is coming for the weekend too? Mine is. And my FIL. Yay! On tap for the weekend: Granville Island, Davie Street, Second Beach, Fat Burgers, Cupcakes and Gelato. My tummy hurts already, but I'm looking forward to it anyways!

So, I got an email from my MIL the other day. Essentially it said:
Why haven't you blogged lately? If you don't blog soon, I'm cutting you out of the will. When I die you will no longer get all of my craft stuff!

Sincerely, MIL

(I'm kidding Mom...No, you didn't write that EXACTLY and I totally want your leather couch)

So I thought to myself, "Self. You should put something on your blog to satisfy the gozillions of people who click over there every day...and are continually saddened to find no new material."

The question is, do I really have anything relevant to say? No. I got nothin. Nada. Zip. So, I guess I'll have to make things up. Or! Or, I could type what I was just thinking about in the bathroom after my head hit the ceiling from fright for the millionth time since I started working here.

To the women I work in this office with (which OMG, you're not actually reading this are you? Cause I really need this job for a few more months and I hope you haven't noticed that I use a fraction of my worktime to blog...a mere pittance really. Ask my MIL) Anyways, could you please refrain from throwing your entire body weight at the locked bathroom door? When I want to check if the john is occupied, I usually quietly approach the door and gingerly jiggle to handle to test its resistance. If I find it locked...I WALK AWAY! I do not take a flying long jump from 10 feet up the hall and aim myself at the door handle. I'm warning you. One day that itty-bitty handle's lock is gonna give and you're gonna find yourself on the other side of that door interupting my alone time. And you're gonna scare the pants off of me. An easy enough feat, seeing as my pants and Fruit of the Looms are already perched around my knees as I sit on the throne. So, let's not do that anymore 'kay? Thanks, I appreciate your compliance.

...and to my boss. Could we please have a dead-bolt installed? I would feel better. Thank you.