CRAWL FOR IT!

And that's just one of many things Ivan and I will yell at trick-or-treaters, after hurling their candy as far into the darkness as possible, when we are acerbic but spry white-haired cat ladies.

X=Eat the doughnut.

If someone at work brings in donuts for your birthday, and the apple you brought for lunch is suspiciously squooshy, do the combined factors of (1) it being almost the 30th and (2) your healthy food having literally rotted make it okay to substitute two donuts for the one apple? There is so much air in doughnuts, and apples are so dense. In fact, if I were to establish an equation describing the relationship between apples and donuts, it would probably say A+3/2G=3D(2H)(1/2R), with A being Apples, D being doughnuts, G being guilt, H being death by heart attack before the age of thirty, and R being the part where I vow to run every morning for the rest of my life. And the numbers being randomly assigned so as to create the illusion of complexity. Unfortunately the equation is rendered undefined on account of the fact that I can't figure out which spelling of donut/doughnut is correct.

Wanted: Small-Town Lex Luthor. Must Refuse to Mow Lawn. Desire to Subdivide and Develop Property Required. Untrained Black Labrador a Plus.

I was promised juicy material when I signed up for this job with the local paper. I was told the meetings would be full of yelling and that I shouldn't give my phone number to local officials because they would use it if they didn't like my articles. I was made to believe I might find myself uttering the words, "Look, mister, this town ain't big enough for the both of us," and "You better make like a tree and leave, bigshot." But this showdown has not occurred. Nor have any showdowns occured within my hearing. Negatory on the showdowns. In fact, here are some words I wrote down at a recent planning board meeting, to give you an idea of what an adorable and harmless town we really are:

Big Bertha
clambake
Doc Whatsit
signage
verbage
cow

So harmless we are almost lethal. The closest I've gotten to scandal is the following statement: "Yeah. That's what we listen to in the Clerk's office. Cop-killing rap. That's what me and a bunch of 65-year-old ladies listen to. [Pause] They complain if I play country." So, not very close. Welcome to Lois & Clark: The Boring Edition.

movie of the week

we went to lunch with our boss. the following is a reconstructed conversation:
Boss: So guess what.
Us: What?
Boss: I got an email from some girl on Friday. Hadn't talked to her in 13 years. And guess what...
Us: you have a 13-year-old son?
Boss: Actually... yes.

Justifications For a Promising Future in Homicidal Mania

-I drove to my aunt's house for the 800th time since moving to LA this weekend and for the 799th time got on the 10 West instead of the 10 East only realizing my error upon that critical "point of no return", where going the direction I meant to go would cause a 500 car pile up. Since I have made this mistake 799 times, I have spend a total of 600 more hours in the car than necessary.
-I arrived at said aunt's house at an hour only suitable for sleeping so I decided to wash my face. While attempting to remove the only cleanser in my eleven-year-old cousin's bathroom, a foaming bubble-gum scented hand soap, from my eyes, I slammed my forehead (with an impressive amount of force) into the faucet. I now have a severe headache and a bruise in the middle of my forehead. The headache may be from the injury or from the bubble gum scent. I will keep you posted.
-The job I quit because I was going insane hired someone else and when they realized the new employee was incompetent, they called me to do the actual work. new employee is now my assistant. I was proud for .02 seconds until I saw his timecard and realized they pay him 25% more than me to do my bitch-work.
-I keep having dreams where an ex-boyfriend returns to collect the futon he left at my apartment. I'm not sure what my subconscious fears more- the loss of the futon or confrontation with the ex.
-My hour of Sunday escapism, Grey's Anatomy, was interrupted eight times with a ticker proclaiming "RAIN!!! IT'S GOING TO RAIN!!! YOU MIGHT NEVER MAKE IT TO WORK AGAIN!!! TRAFFIC WILL STOP!!! RAIN RAIN RRRRAAAAIIIINNNNN" get over yourself, Southern California.
-I'm trying to turn myself into a morning person so I set my alarm for 6:45 every morning and every morning, instead of running, I go back to sleep and wake up with 37 seconds to get dressed, brush my teeth, eat half a handful of peanut butter m&ms for breakfast and leave for work. Things are not going well.
-NARGH!

Game Show

It's called "Guess What Scene in the Book of Genesis this Illustrates!"