I'm sad to see the picture of Duran Duran move to a lower profile in the blog. That photo represents a me that pops up every now and then. She's perky and silly.
The today TPgal is a little more responsible than TPgal circa 1984, but 1984 girl is still inside.
One little work story (maybe two) it has been established that the work e-mail system is on the fritz and personal e-mails have been lost. A quick chat with the offended friend today eliminated the need for paranoia. Whew! We won't be playing cards anytime soon, but at least we'll be hanging out!
Second story - one of my favorite co-workers is leaving for a new job. SportBoy is headed off to greener pastures and I wish him luck. The crazy thing is that the new BIG BOSS has decided that I'm the new "Marketing and PR" guru and the replacement SportBoy person will report to me. My minionhood grows and grows. However, as the smartest person on the team pointed out today my team just grew by negative 1. (The responsibility but no body.)
So in a year I went from one person to rule over to eight... dang I am management. I guess my next task is to figure out how to make their lives miserable so I can feel important.
In real life, I got a call from Elizabeth at Empire Windows about the entry I made into a drawing for all new windows in my house. "Sorry Elizabeth, it's a condo, I didn't enter a drawing. Don't call again." Click. Crazy telemarketers.
Talked to the parents, who are back from their whirlwind trip to Salt Lake City for a visit with my older Bother (that's how dad refers to him for me.) The visit was SHORT. Kev-o's wife and my parents don't mix well. Kev & M&D were chatting in the living room and Dee was in the kitchen and wigged out because she "KNEW" they were talking about her, so she stormed out. So, then... they talked about her. DUH.
It's easy for me to sit back and wonder at how she can be a b-atch sometimes and why does he stay? But what do I know... single gal, no mans, maybe you deal with your partner being a complete wacko sometimes because you love them? I don't think that's entirely true to the same level of slamming doors and storming out (that's a tad bit immature) but everyone has their nutz-o moments right? Even those of you with 2.3 kids and the little house in whitey-McWhite neighborhoods have your moments... right?