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4:53 p.m. - Friday, Dec. 28, 2001
Xmas Break, backhair, DMV, and painting

Return of the Endless Xmas Break

Har har... I wish. *sighs*

It seems that no matter HOW SLOW I MOVE, Xmas break moves quicker. Its already near the 2/3's mark, and I've done nothing relaxing-wearing-my-pjs-all-day-watching-tv, but there's hope. I still have 4 more days of lounging. *aaaaaah*

So, then of course, I hear from a long-lost-net-friend who disappeared probably 2 years ago. She posts, emails, and leaves me messages. It was almost frightening to think that she actually found her way back to the net. Why come back if you've been gone that long? Its like smoking cigarettes again after quitting.

Which is what I did, so I guess her coming back is not that bad. Tho, she was a load of fun while she was here...

So, I'm enduring the sudden desire to redo my house (that's because I watched the day long marathon of Trading Spaces... bastard show...). We're gonna repaint #2 son's room, our bathroom, and put up new blinds and curtains. THEN... by spring break, I plan on moving ALL MY SHIT outta my room (which pales in comparison to my lil one's room... Burger King and McD's have NOTHING on this boy) and paint. Then when I'm done, I'm gonna sponge paint it. Obviously I didn't learn my lesson about sponge painting when I did the clouds on #1 son's room. *Tsk tsk*

I have plans and am in love with a NEW color scheme. So, now is the appropriate time to re-coordinate my house around the furniture I already have. Loveeeely.

I try to think of profound things to discuss, but so far I haven't found a thing. Tho, I must say, I survived DMV today only to have the computers crash JUST BEFORE I got my renewals. (I'm down to the wire, my license expires on Monday.)

So... nursing the pout that the receptionist gave me (Did you know that NOW, in order to get a photo id, I have to show a marriage license and birth certificate, both certified copies, to the troll behind the counter? Thanks Bin Laden, you made DMV more fun than it ever could be.)and eavesdropping the conversation between two young guys behind me ("Hey, do you have back hair yet?" "No, you?" "Yeah, dude, its shaggy and thick." *insert MY dryheave* "That's rough, dude." "Yeah, no kidding. I don't know bout you, but hell, when I (insert *finally*) get laid, she'll have stuff to pull." *insert eruptionary dry heave with sounds*)I waited patiently for my license (regular, no photo...b/c SOMEONE forgot to notify the license holders of this new regulation to get your photo id).

Ok, someone tell me this...WHAT GUYS TALK ABOUT BACKHAIR IN A PUBLIC PLACE? I thought you guys didn't talk about that stuff? Man, was I sadly mistaken. Also, I was a sorry victim of THAT conversation. *shutters* (err...shudders) It was the most sickening conversation. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who heard it, since our lil friends were broadcasting their business across the sitting area. Some lady sitting across from me made an epileptic (sp) mock seizure (small, but effective) at the sound of "backhair." I'm not exactly sure, but I wouldn't put these guys over 24. To top it off, the one thing that most women despise and gag at are the words, "back hair" and the thought of some young guy being cursed with it.

I recall seeing a movie (late night USA type of movie) that once had an old fat guy with big fluffy black back hair and a girl in her undies gagging and puking.

THAT'S what I think of when I SEE backhair. I don't particularly like it, and even tho I'm a chick without backhair, I'd gladly have my back waxed if I had to deal w/ that. *Knocks on wood*

So, that was my DMV experience.

But... a glimmer of happy-smileys. My former co-worker, now unemployed engaged to a female rich doctor, sent me something in the mail. The "Secret Key." I think I love him now. No, as a matter of fact, I KNOW I love him. (Can't tell ya what the key is for, but it will make my photocopying habits easier in the future.)

So... I'm gonna go play my "rollercoaster tycoon" game that I gave to the boys, but have since acquired for my own selfish needs.

Tah tah and all that yippie bullshit.


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