Murjani is so too waiting for me. Somewhere, you bastards.

I have gotten a few emails thanking me for posting the lyrics to Positively Lost Me, including a really cute one that promised undying fealty.  Having just let Potential Fealty Candidate #1 go (PFC was upset, but for reasons I haven’t felt like getting into yet it was the best decision), I’m not really in the market for more fealty; if someone really wants to thank me, point me in the direction of 20/20’s reissued cd,  20/20/Look Out—the one I tried to order from Amazon was out of stock, and it only took them two months to advise me of this, after emailing me numerous times to assure me that the cd was, in fact, en route.  Assholes.  Now the other sellers want a minimum of $150 (well, $149.99, $375.21 CDN$), and I think they are delusional weenies.  I managed to get Haysi Fantayzee’s Battle Hymns For Children Singing for less than that, and I also picked up The Batcave compliation, Young Limbs, Numb Hymns (in cd format, tyvm) for less than that (that was the auction a while back that I just *had* to win).  I will be damned if I am going to pay that much for 20/20/Look Out.  No way.

Especially since Cleve’s sort of cut me off from my money (well, in spirit; he can’t do it in actuality; I am agreeing ‘cos I know he’s right).  Everybody is a bastard, I tell you.

So the point is that I am in *desperate* need of 20/20’s 20/20/Look Out.  Just point me there.  

Butsoanyway.

I haven’t had time to try to find traps of my own, and I know that I suck, but I have had to get some things out with relatively little warning.  I *STILL* have not heard from the damned apartment complex; I don’t know what to do with that one.  There’s no way in hell that I can go trapping scads of felines by myself—I don’t have the time to man the traps, and I am extremely limited in where I could hold them if they needed recovery time—Chrissy has her own world going on, and Bonnie is having family issues (I gather; it’s not my place to come out and ask if she hasn’t volunteered).  Originally I had thought that with a week-ish of rotating trap duty, I and one other person could probably at least make a big dent, but the fact is that there is no one else, I guess.  In a way, this is good—I cannot handle more than one trap myself, which cuts down on how many I need to come up with, and I cannot set one every day; I could only do it when I would be able to check and collect within 24 hours.  These two points combined means that this is something that I would be doing for some time.  So I have to figure out how I can fit this in.  Bwaah.

Just shoot me.

I went to trivia tonight, and find that Harry’s had a bunch of seizures yesterday, but ‘didn’t want to bother me’, ‘cos he ‘knows how busy I am’.  Christ.  He seems to be of the opinion that his neurologist told him that this is as controlled as his seizures were going to get (he’s currently being maintained on Keppra alone), and so I guess I have to take that cause back up.  Sigh.  He switched neurologists a year or so ago—the previous one had him WAY too tranqued to function and also gave him a VNS implant that doesn’t do squat—and I like this new neurologist better, but…I don’t know if Harry’s misunderstanding (highly likely) or what.  Sigh.  

And I had to make an appointment with my Dermatologista, Rhonda Reindeer (no, I’m not really exaggerating all that much on the name), because all this stress is making me break out something god-awful.  Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, right?  To his credit (unfortunately not enough credit, but…), PFC said that I was beautiful right at the apex of my pinkle production.  What a nice guy, hmm?  

Ahhh…don’t fret; he’ll find someone just peachy for him.  I just realised that it wasn’t me, and I did so (thankfully) before I did anything stupidly permanent, like going to the upcoming department tea-like thing together.  Once one makes a step like that, it’s irrevocable.  So that’s all okay.  As am I.  

And I am simply desperate for autumn to get its ass here.  Even though that means that I will be back snowed under so deep in work that I may never get out, I don’t care.

And, lastly (because I have a conference-thingy to be at tomorrow morning, bright and early), the more I think about it, the less thrilled I am about Meg leaving.  :-\  She’ll be gone for over a month, and driving around (most notably Vegas-to-LA), and not only am I jealous (she’ll be driving by Area 51, I think), but I am also hoping that she’ll be ok—as in safe.  She’s not an idiot, but…I just like to worry.  Before she leaves I want to get a newer cell phone for her as a present, so I had better hurry my ass up on that one.  Sigh again.  

Okay; that’s all my whining; I’ll leave with today’s gem from Ancodia’s Inbox, an Ole joke I’d not yet heard.  And no, I’m not going to fix the colloquialisms…’night.  

Ole vas vorking at the fish plant up nort in Dulut vhen he accidentally cut off all ten of his finkers.

He vent to da emergency room in the Clinik and vhen he got dar da Norsky doctor looked at Ole and said, "Let's have da finkers and I'll see vhat I can do."

Ole said, "I haven't got da finkers."

"Vhat do you  mean, you hafen't got da finkers?!?" he said.  "Lord--it's 2006 and Ive's got microsurgery and all kindsa incredible techniques here!  I could hafe put dem back on and made you like new!  Vhy didn't you brink da finkers?"

Ole says........"How da fock vas I suppose to pick dem up?


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