Yet another stupid pattern I've noticed at work. My lab is set up like the following:

Left Door--Lab Cube 1 (me)--Lab Cube 2 (D.)--Lab Cube 3 (F. and R.)--Right Door

Yesterday, my boss comes in looking for F. He enters through the LEFT DOOR and yells F.'s name.

Today, he came in looking for me. He enters through the RIGHT DOOR and yells my name.

You see the problem here? It is a total crap shoot as to which door he comes in when he is looking for D. He does start saying D.'s name loudly by whichever door he chooses.

So, I'm back from the wedding. For those of you who can't read the private posts (or I didn't tell ahead of time)--I was up this weekend at the wedding of my high school friend rosencrantz's sister. Since ros lives in Germany, her sister was nice enough to invite us to the wedding so we could sneak in some more quality time with her. rosencrantz was stupefied that we managed to keep this secret. Hah-hah-hah.

Anyhow, the drive up on Saturday was the drive from hell. We managed to at least make it to the reception--thank goodness for long Catholic weddings that push the reception back into late in the evening. But, our drive was nothing compared to the 14 hours rosencrantz and her husband spent trapped in the airport in New York. Apparently, ros' sister tipped her off about us coming to the ceremony after this delay of doom--in an attempt to will them to continue living ;p

I'm sure I'll have some pictures from a friend to share later, and maybe more rambling details too if I feel up to it.

I'm covered in miserable bug bites. So, here...watch Craig Ferguson and Regis Philbin show each other their underwear.

I kid you not.

I love Craig Ferguson, as some of you know. I made the mistake of listening to the "fork in the garbage disposal" song he obsesses over...

First, Craig does it....



And the whole thing, if you want to get it stuck in your head (NSFW language)

Okay, so finding this picture has made me realize that it is definitely time to go to bed. It may haunt me in my dreams, though:



Good night.

I am pre-approved for a mortgage, biatches.

Also, as I've probably pointed out here before, I am totally a squirrel. I squirrel tiny pockets of money away everywhere. That made filling out the mortgage a pain in the butt. That was some form. I'm surprised it didn't ask for my hat size.

Furthermore, what we like to call our "Lost porn" came in the mail today. So shiny.

Well, I've signed up for the intro meeting for this half-marathon training for September.  "Kick-off" for training is September 25th. The marathon would be in January.

Hooo-boy. Stay tuned for updates.

How I can tell various people want to ask me a question or need help:

The boss: addresses me by a formal Japanese version of my name.
Coworker #1: comes in loudly shuffling her feet, and says my name very quietly.
Coworker #2: walks up quickly (and usually scares the crap out of me) and says my name really loudly.
Coworker #3: approaches with a piece of paper in hand and stands there saying "eeerrrrrrrrrrrrr...."

I don't have any patterns picked out for the rest of my coworkers yet. What about you? How can you tell when it isn't going to be a social visit?

In a fit of stress-induced dementia, I've decided to start training for a half-marathon fundraiser.

Why is this crazy? Well, my late mother had two knee replacements (I don't know if it was the same knee or both knees, and unfortunately can no longer ask) and my brother trashed his knees doing distance running. I also have an issue with my right foot, which I've complained about here in the past after many a boot-camp class.

My wise marathon-running friend has suggested visiting a physical therapist or trainer before starting to train--which is a brilliant idea, I have to say. So, perhaps it doesn't have to be an exercise in willful stupidity. I know from changing my shoes and inserts for my boot camp class that little things like that can make a huge difference in the damage you do to your body.

In case you're worried about me somehow changing and become more intelligent, I did still clean the bathroom this morning with the bathroom cleaner that I'm allergic to. Why? Well, because I already bought it. And I'm an idiot.

I've been posting about life stuff under friends-lock, but I'll toss this one out publicly since people have been asking.  A.'s been having a flare for the past four or five days (more or less? I'm not sure when this one started). Anyhow, he seems stable and isn't in a ton of pain, but he also isn't up for leaving the house. If you've been expecting an email or anything from him...well, it may be a bit.

I...am tired and haven't been in the best of moods. And I have a house full of fiber-bearing garden vegetables and a husband who is supposed to be eating a low fiber diet for the next few days. You should see the pile of okra and tomatoes. And now I'm about to head out the door to shuffle some things at work.

Blah. But yeah, we're okay. My biggest concern at the moment is that I may have to face the realtor and house viewings on my own tomorrow. Yikes.