What the hell did I have jammed in my craw last night, eh? Hey, long weekend.  Rhonda, it's fine that you cancelled. Who am I to judge, anyway? You should be like my other friends and just say, "Katy — FU".  Lora, I don't have much to report on Derek, yet.  My lesson was so PG as to scare me back to ProNovice where I will walk upright and suck like one.

Today is moving day.  My new office is shared with two women. Susie, who loves cats and cute things, hearts and butterflies. She's so nice I want to stab myself with my mechanical pencil just to cut thru the good to something I understand.  And Gena, someone whom I've worked with for years and who I would consider a work friend.  Sadly she loves plants and air fresheners.  (Both women do, actually)  Two enemies of mine. I don't like things that die a quiet easy death.  With leaves.  I don't like smelling anything obvious that won't satisfy some, preferably unhealthy, appetite.  Air fresheners are the frauds of the sensory world.  I've told them that I will be frying bacon later.  Both women looked alarm. Susie actually moved her plants. 

AND Because my blog needs PICTURES and COLOR: One of my favorite co-workers is in town –Andy W. (Pictured here in his Cyclo-cross Barbie wear)


He's a 'researcher' from Portland who I stick on every group or committee that I am on just to have his craziness and large indecipherable brain around.   He tends to talk fast and long about shit that no one understands and then when you look at him like WTF? he sums his wisdom up in one tidy statement.  He has insane prematurely white hair that sticks up everywhere and he consumes more beer and junk food than anyone I've ever met.  Sometimes he sends me cryptic messages late at night that must be beer induced and yet are so well constructed or amusing that I save them and try to figure them out. Here is his last one:

I am so far gone….    Like December. 

Gone.  WIth a flock of
large people in their shorts that have been let sag and stuck in places
I wish I didn't have to see, the hawaiian shirts that are more
expensive than they should be given what hawaii really is, the sandals
they wear so they can get through security, but still they take a 12 oz
bottle of lotion – heck , if I knew that, I  would've brought a silo or
two of "chelada" for the flight so I would fit in.  And all this on
flights to Cincinnati or Kansas City, or Albuquerque via Salt Lake
City.   BMs and ipod did wonders.

This time I end on a Kinder, Gentler Katy note…see? Like my bacon, I'm cured!