(no subject)

Peter and I went out to see Phone Booth tonight. Hey, no rants on this end, for a change! It was a good movie. Afterwards we went back to his place and walked his dogs, and he showed me the apartment that I would be living in for a year. Looks like it has a lot of space. It's located in a nice section of town off of Branch Street, about two minutes from where David Cicillini lives.

Happy Mom's Day!

Happy Mother's Day, to all my favourite LJ moms out there

aurasbliss
loveisagypsy
pinkflamingo65
redheadevilchiq

mom-to-be desi_derata

and especially the best mom in the world (in my humble opinion) ljinsomnia



You're all tops in my book...



No Wire Hangers About It!

If I opened up your bag lunch, what would I see inside?

Just finished tallying up receipts. Yawn.

For some reason, I'm thinking about the bag lunches I used to bring to school. Probably because I just made one for Kayla. I asked her what would be the worst thing to pack in her lunch and she said an apple. I asked her why, and she replied, "Because it's healthy."

Oh.

My Mom used to bring me to school with a chicken salad sandwich more often than not. At first, they were really good, because she would cut up the chicken (and use really big chunks, too), and then drown it in mayonnaise. Oh, and on white bread, of course (nowadays I can't even stand to look at white bread).

But like anything else, too much of a good thing can get tiresome. By the end of the school year, I was so fed up with chicken salad that I finally begged my Mom for anything--ANYTHING!--besides chicken salad. Bologna. Ham. Liverwurst! I didn't care.

That's when she pulled a Divine and packed me a dead rat between two loaves of bread.

Okay, I'm just kidding about that.

I remember how I'd shove the brown paper bag that held my lunch into my locker where it would sit between classes. Letting all that mayo sit at room temperature certainly couldn't have been that good, but somehow I survived.

That reminds me of a story about a guy that I used to work with. His name was Joe. Nervous guy. Very gray man. That's how I remember him. Just...gray. Quiet. Somber. He had a somewhat square face, and rarely smiled. I later became his boss and he ended up just calling in one day, saying he wouldn't be back. Ever. And he never returned. I always felt so guilty about it, as though it were somehow my fault.

He had been an attorney, but drank himself out of his profession.

Anyway, one time we had an office party and everyone was asked to contribute something. He brought in potato salad.

My boss at the time, Mary Ann, walked up to him and complimented him on his contribution.

He seemed genuinely pleased, according to her telling of the story. "I was really nervous that I was going to forget it," he confided to her. "So I made it last Sunday night and I kept it in my car until today!"

Mary Ann quietly moved over to the table and disposed of evidence before a round of salmonella poisoning broke out.

Joe was very good at blackjack, however. This was the one time I actually saw him light up. He had some kind of system, he told me, that he said was foolproof. Said he actually had been kicked out of several Las Vegas casinos, it was so good. I never did learn his secret.