Twiddling Thumbs

So.

Now that this whole ordeal is over with, what the hell do I blog about?

Unbreakable: I blew up my own email box this morning. Apparently storing three years worth of emails on sub-folders is not a good idea. Who knew? Is there a market for Professional Stress Testers? I think I'd be good at that. As the training coordinator for my current company I usually tell all new employees, "You can't hurt this system. Believe me, I've tried." They laugh and feel better. But I don't think they really believe me. Two years ago our sales team used these archaic handheld computers that looked like the original brick-shaped Gameboys. They broke down about as much as Gameboys too. And who do you think got assigned to repair them? Me, the girl who breaks things just by thinking about them. I would fiddle with one of those handhelds for hours trying to get it to work. One day I realized... "If I screw with this long enough it's going to stop working altogether. Then I can send it back to the company for repairs!" They don't ask me to fix anything anymore.

5 Minutes Of Random Thoughts:
Start. Having sex in your parents' house is only kinky the first time you do it. There's something sensual about not being able to make any noise. You become totally aware of your partner's body... The way he breathes through his nose in bursts. The smell of his skin as you bury your face into his neck. The soft- "Oh my God we're having sex on my little brother's bed!" The realization that you're "doing it" where a 14 year old usually sleeps. If there's a Hell I'm sure there's a special place in it for awful big sisters. Do you think it would be obvious if Hoop and I buy him new sheets when we move out? Is this really any worse than my Mom donating the bed my littlest brother was conceived on to me and then telling me about it later? I would have been perfectly fine with her not telling me about it EVER. My roommates always said it was the most comfy bed they'd ever felt. I should have wondered more how they knew that. Ew. There's a reason why the saying doesn't go, "If (these walls) this bed could talk..." Same with toilets, underwear and tissues. I live with four men now. I hear enough about shit, balls, and boogers thankyouverymuch. But shoes? Shoes could be nice. End.

Golden Sporks: I've decided to have a blogger appreciation day of sorts. You all have been so supportive and understanding over the last few days weeks months. I would like a chance to show just how appreciative I am. So comment if you haven't commented in the last four days. Shit, comment regardless. I love hearing what you have to say! Anyone who's commented this week will get a- Wait a second. I'm not telling you that. You'll have to check back here Friday. And that's not just some marketing ploy. I use subliminal messaging for that.