Let's see... items that don't require photos...
I have spent the weekend experiencing the IRS in a way that is making me sosososososo cranky. It has caused me some embarrassment, though now that I know what's going on, I'm not all weepy and hot-eared, just pissed.
[SUMMARY: Tea in China? What?]
Oooooh! Oooooh! I do have a picture I forgot to post last week! You are SO excited!
Remember Media Day at Stitch 'n' Bitch at Sylvia's House of Fuzzy Crack? Here's the group shot, including Ligia (who, it turns out, is not "Lijia" no matter how I said she should spell it) and Red and Genius-Knitter-Sarah and Lisa-Pronounced-Liza and Heidi and Mary Kay (best friend!) and Sylvia and Janet and Irma and Alicia and the usual couple of people whose names I've never gathered...§
Enough about me...
In baseball news, Roger Clemens called DURING THE GAME Sunday to tell... whomever baseball players tell when they *coughcough* won't be in to work today *cough*... to say he has a fatigued groin. I thought nothing could be better than spending the weekend watching "Clemens scratched (groin)" on the ESPN crawl, but "fatigued groin" definitely tops that for sheer, ongoing# entertainment value.
[SUMMARY: Groin. Groin, groin, groin. GROINGROINGROINGROINGROIN!]
OK, back to me.
As for today's title, I frequently go around the office talking to myself, making little noises to myself and -- when I'm frustrated and unfocused -- flapping my hands in little circles and blowing raspberries to indicate (in my mind) "I am a bug. Probably a fly." Yeah, it's weird. No, it's not pathological. Megan-from-Work thinks it's funny and I live to entertain Megan, so... *shrug*
Well, Megan stopped by my door a little while ago, twirling belt ends suggestively in the manner of a 1920's flapper/hooker.‡ When I told her it was certainly sassy but didn't do much for me personally, she made the fly noise and cracked me up. At which point I said, "You had me at pbthththphphbth."
Because I am a blogdork, I immediately asked how you spell "pbthththphphbth" so I could use that for my title.
A little insight into the workings of the AntiM mind.
In the immortal words of Annie, orphan extraordinaire, tomorrow is only a day away.
[SUMMARY: Can you believe I didn't do my "picture may be worth a thousand words but I bet I can tell you in three thousand" thing?]
*FOOTNOTE (asterisked): Some of which may even be publishable.
(Hey, did you notice how I only used asterisks when I forgot to footnote something and have to do an interim/insert sort of footnote mark? I'm sure Secret Pal is rolling her eyes somewhere for my lack of respect for the stylebook protocol. Sorry, Secret Pal! Not trying to make your head explode!
Um, speaking of... Secret Pal? Are you OK? Has anyone seen Secret Pal recently?)
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): I say that like my weekend update isn't usually on some day other than the day right after the weekend. I know you know better. Please humour me.
#FOOTNOTE (pounded and out of order): 'Cause "Clemens scratched (groin)" is a one-off (heh) but you can really MULL "fatigued groin."
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): Thus:
§FOOTNOTE (swerved): Not in any particular order. And that's me, front and centre on the ground, next to Ligia and her newly-finished Clapotis.