TGIF

By the time Friday rolls around in my world, I usually find myself completely exhausted mentally from work. Add sleeping issues the past few months and I'm also physically depleted.

Friday means I stumble out of bed, driven by the knowledge that this is the last work day before a break. Around 3pm I usually catch my second wind and start feeling excited for the weekend.

The evening usually promises a nice meal at home, some wine, and a movie. Joe works such long days during the week that sometimes I feel like I don't see him until Friday nights so that's our time to catch-up.

Friday night also means crawling into bed knowing I don't have to wake up in the morning. Not that I really sleep in but it's still comforting to realize there will be no alarm clock.

For my coworker, Friday night is pizza night and all of the families in his neighborhood take turns hosting. For a friend, Friday night is "date night" with her husband and they dress up and head out on the town. For my BIL and his family, Friday is "camping night" and the entire family "camps" somewhere together, whether it be the living room, the backyard, or the lake.

What does Friday night mean to you?

P.S. Friday night is ALSO when I make sure my Six Word Saturday post is ready to go. Please come back tomorrow!

Where's my walker?

When did I get old? AKA My "romantic" weekend away.

Saturday started off well enough. We left the house later then planned but still made it to the winery in time for a tasting and some hanging out on the piazza. Beautiful place and I took some photos with the new camera. Yay!

We checked into the hotel, which was way older and way bigger than expected. Also, it was overrun with some international teen convention of a very conservative church group. The bumper stickers in the parking lot are the things nightmares are made of - anti-gay marriage, anti-choice, etc. Scary. And yet they were all dressed like total skanks-in-training...

For dinner, we decided to walk to the chain seafood restaurant next door where we enjoyed a yummy (but loud) meal along with some fabulous martinis.

It was after arriving back to the hotel that it all went very wrong. Suddenly my stomach rebelled and I spent the night quite sick. Joe went on a hunting expedition to find me some ginger ale and tummy meds (first and last time to travel without them!) while I lay on the bathroom floor praying for death.

I crawled into bed around 10pm, exhausted and miserable and in desperate need of shut-eye. Sleep, however, was spooked away by the screaming coming from the pool outside the hotel. I tried to be patient - surely it would close at 11pm, right?

At 11:20, I became that old person. Yes, I called the front desk and demanded they get those damned kids off my lawn nicely complained about the noise. About ten minutes later, security arrived at our door to tell us they had issued a warning and told them that if there was another complaint they'd have to shut the pool down. However, the kids had curfew that would be coming up soon so that should take care of it.

Note to hotel: get scarier looking security. These dudes were in suits and the guy doing all the talking looked like my grampa. I might've laughed at him. Or asked him to go get me some cookies. The other guy looked like he was there to fix my computer.

It was quiet after that and while I still had trouble sleeping, it wasn't due to the noise.

Also, when the knock came at the door, I was pretty sure it was going to be the kids from the pool, here to do an exorcism or something. But I guess I would've heard them coming.

The original Brangelina

I'm having a bit of a topic block so I decided to go smack the "random article" link on Wikipedia. It's over on the left or you can click here. Fun, huh?

My first random article was about Ranlo, North Carolina.

Ranlo was named for John Calvin Rankin and William Thomas Love, two prominent area industrialists - "Ranlo" was a contraction of RANkin and LOve.

See? The original Brangelina! Only, RanLo beat them to the punch by about 100 years. Suck it, Brangelina!

The next few were pretty boring but then Wikipedia gifted me with smoking cap. Similar to a smoking jacket, this was to keep your hair from smelling of smoke. Here's an idea - don't smoke, you won't smell!

Speaking of smell, here's Lady Mary Pellatt. She "...was the first Chief Commissioner of the Girl Guides of Canada. She was awarded the Silver Fish." Wait, silver fish? If anyone ever awards me with a silver fish, I'm going to award them with a punch in the face.

What's with all the moth species and football entries? Is this thing broken?

And, finally, desmoteplase. Any guesses what that might be? If you said "a chemical in the saliva of vampire bats" you would be correct! I'm going to bet none of you guessed that though. It keeps the blood of the victim from clotting, causing profuse bleeding. Awesome, huh?

I'm going to take threats of vampire bats as a serious sign that Wikipedia has had enough of me. Leave a comment and let me know what kind of random crap Wikipedia served up for you. Maybe it will inspire a post for someone.

(Just a disclaimer - I think wikipedia is crap as an actual source but that doesn't mean it can't be fun or even useful. Just gotta double-check those facts!)

Appeasing the masses

Seems you're all interested in the story behind my banishment from my hometown Sears. I'll share but consider yourselves warned - if you're a big fan of Joe, his halo may slip a bit here... (Or, maybe it will make you a bigger fan, in which case don't tell him because his ego is big enough already.)

Back in the olden days (circa 1996), I bought a stereo at Sears with some of my graduation money. It was what my dad still refers to as a "ghetto blaster". Way to be a white man, Dad. I would like to refer to it more as a boombox. For some reason, after a couple of weeks, I decided I did not want a boombox - I wanted a shelf stereo.

Joe drove me to the mall, stereo and receipt in hand, and dropped me off at Sears. They refused to take the unit back. Defeated but too timid to put up much of an argument, I left.

When I returned to Joe, still lugging the offending stereo, he decided he was going to get my money back for me. It's important to note that Joe still refuses to take no for an answer but his methods have matured greatly. Also, he's a little more reasonable about the demands he makes. But that's now and we're talking about the Stone Age of 1996.

Joe carts my stereo back into the store and again asks for a refund. The lady says no. Joe asks for a manager. She IS the manager (aren't they all?). Joe then tells her she WILL refund the money. He didn't threaten her and I can't even remember his exact words. Except that by this time, I was doing my best to make a stealthy retreat into the neighboring shoe department.

She finally offered to give him 80% back but of course this wasn't good enough. She told him that it was the best she could do according to policy.

And this is when it all went so very wrong. Joe raised his voice. "Listen here, you black-haired bitch. It says right over the door there 'satisfaction guaranteed or your effing money back'."

That's when she called security. We were escorted from the store by two fat guys wearing shirts three sizes too small and told to never return. And even though that was thirteen years ago and I'm sure none of those people are still there, I've always been afraid to go back.

Honestly, it's not even that big of a loss. I was never a Sears fan and then since they got all wrapped up with evil duty-shirking KMart I've gone out of my way to avoid them. But KMart is a rant for another day.

P.S. - Just remember, Joe would NEVER do something like that now. First, he wouldn't return (slightly) used merchandise unless it was defective. Second, he'd never speak that inconsiderately to anyone. Third, he doesn't shop at Sears either.

P.P.S. - Except for all of our kitchen appliances are from there but that's because we wanted to keep them all the same brand but we just order those online. And we don't call the delivery guys "black-haired bitches" ever.

P.P.P.S. - Mostly because they have those crazy muscles. And they aren't really Sears employees anyways. And they aren't bitches cuz they're dudes.

Monday Debriefing

Just a quick babble this morning to tie up some loose ends before I tackle another week.

First, yesterday's post (I'd link to it because the interwebz like that kind of thing but that seems complicated this morning so just find it yourself - I mean, it's YESTERDAY's post, it's not that hard). They're all true. Every last one of them. If you'd like to see one explained, leave a comment and I'll see what I can do. A few of them might make decent posts. Or not. I never can quite tell.

I went away this weekend with Joe and had a lovely time Saturday until my dinner rebelled. That man knows the best gift he can give me sometimes is diet ginger ale and Pepto Bismol. First and last time I travel without both. Also, I once sobbed hysterically because airport security took away my little bottle of pink salvation. Why don't they make it in a bottle small enough to pass the liquid ban? (The pill form does nothing for me.)

Last night I was feeling better but we overdid with the white wine. So this morning I'm sitting at my desk drinking diet ginger ale and eating crackers. I'm sure my coworkers think I'm pregnant but nope, just hungover.

LASERS!!! Also, BOOYAH!!!

And now, if one of you would kindly make the room stop spinning on your way out, I need to go do some work.