Professional Attire At All Times

The part I love most about wearing a skirt to the office is that I don't have to worry all day long about making sure my fly is zipped. This is more of a chronic problem for me than it really should be for anyone over the age of, oh, I dunno, three. Although fortunately, I have long since dispensed with another habit I had when I was three, which was taking off all my clothes every time I went to the bathroom. Socks included. Hairbow optional.

I'm sure my coworkers are more than thrilled by this development.

Letter To The Human Clown Car

Dear Michelle Duggar,
When you have spent an enormous amount of your life in stirrups, and yet you are not an award-winning equestrian, it is time to reconsider your hobbies and life goals. While I do understand that at this point, childbirth no longer involves actual labor, and that your babies just wander out into the light, blinking, might I suggest scrapbooking or knitting as hobbies that are both meaningful and less draining than childbirth?
Other great hobby choices include cross-stich, vasectomies, and identifying the 18 humans you've already dropped.
Yours in Huggies,
Grace

All Hail Suxor!

You know what is absolutely Suxor, King Of Suckonia And Surrounding Counties? When you go out for a run and for the first time in at least two molten months, it's not eleven thousand degrees, so you don't feel like every stride is taking you one step closer to a big, beefy hug from the Grim Reaper. You're so excited, you're even timing yourself intently (which you don't normally do because your molasses pace makes you cry) to see if this newfound freedom from running through a Swedish sauna is helping your splits at all...

...and you are suddenly hit with a horrible cramp in an abdominal organ you didn't even know you had, the intense pain of which convinces you that there must be a tiny, deranged elf up in there, performing an appendectomy with a plastic picnic spork, cackling maniacally. You slow your triumphant run to a walk, but the elf continues to hack away at your marginally vital organs until you slow...to...a...stop. Phooooooooooooo. You finally silence the elf within, but you're still half a mile from home. And you're pissed. Phoooooooooooo.

All hail Suxor, for he is mighty! And has a wicked herd of elves.

Ways To Get Fired, #76

Often the attorneys will leave files for me when I'm not in my office. They place them on my chair so that I can't ignore them--or so they think, until they come in and I'm teetering on top of six pending files, perched like Grandma atop phone books in the driver's seat.

"What? I didn't see anything in my inbox!"

Anyway, the files often come with love notes placed lovingly atop them, and they are usually limited to two-word tags of affection: "See me."

I so very desperately want to write below that, "OK," and leave the files in their chairs when they're not there.

"What? I saw you. I saw you leave for lunch."

A WTF Moment

One of the weirder discoveries of the day: a tour bus, parked in front of the grocery store closest to my house. What could the other high points on this tour possibly be? "After the Carytown Kroger, we'll swing by the home of the local crazy cat lady, and we'll finish up at that parking lot on Broad Street that every seagull, worldwide, believes to be the ocean."

I can only assume that this is a bus full of Japanese tourists. Experience has taught me that they will tour anything--including, apparently, the deli case.

An Important Life Decision

I have made an important decision, for when I am eventually pregnant with LB's maniac babies. Whenever I'm in public, and a well-meaning stranger looks at my belly, smiles, and asks me, "What are you having?" I am simply going to reply, "Kittens."

OM-eff-G

I just accidentally ate an entire pineapple for dinner.

Tomorrow is going to be rough. I can feel it in my bones.

And other areas.