Thursday, December 1, 2011

What up?

Hey, it's me.  I'm back.

So.  A couple of things.

1.  Dear Google,

Please STOP ASKING ME FOR MY CELL PHONE NUMBER every time I try to log in to my email.  I am not going to forget my password and I HIGHLY DOUBT that my account will be "highjacked."  Really?  If you want my cell phone so you can sell it to the world, then just be honest and tell me that's why you want it.  Eff Off!   xoxoxoxox

2.  Dear Incredibly Honest, Sweet, and Kind undergrad who found my wallet and returned it to me:

I LOVE LOVE LOVE you and hope that the planet blesses you with some amazing opportunity in the near future.  xoxox

3.  Dear Holiday Drivers:



4. This was too good not to share. I am organizing a little holiday card effort from my office to a number of colleagues within my institution, without whose assistance and good will, our mission would be seriously hampered. Yes, I know I cannot send cards with Santas, or Christmas trees....I don't not completely live under a rock. Yes, I am a good company girl, and I did, as suggested, send a little email to our Marketing Dept just to make certain that I wasn't violating any "rules." Turns out that our little Commonwealth has "policies about holiday cards." (Of course it does). And, as it turns out, to summarize, the policy is you can't send any because you can spend state funds on them. Okay fine. I'll buy the damned cards myself. Further, the policy says that sending the cards through the internal mail system would be construed as a misuse of state funds. Harrrumpf! So, I'm going to have to resort to using the interweb to spread my holiday cheer. What do you think about this as a greeting?

Happy E-Holiday of your E-Choice from my E-mail to yours.

Warm, fuzzy, seasonal? I'll make sure I send one to the Governor as well.

5.  Do you read McSweeney's online journal? It's terribly terribly clever, and, as I warned my husband, the kind of place where once you get started, you get lost, like falling down the proverbial rabbit hole, and by the time you finally surface, you've been glued to your monitor for, like 16 hours, you've peed yourself, you're starving, and the cleaning lady has vacuumed around you twice, only the second time she did it from a further distance because you're starting to smell a bit. Goooood Stuff   McSweeney's

That should keep you busy until I can post again.


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