Melting Faces since 1983

Or not, as the case may be.

Evil's discovered a new hiding place, under the couch upstairs. She really likes to half-park herself under the back of the slipcover of the couch in the basement, but I think she does a bit better when she's upstairs. Of course, Maa likes to gleefully point out that "It's not good when cats start hiding." Thanks Maa. I know she's dying. Most days I'm ok with that, and the first time you said it, I got it. It's like when old people start to see stuff before they die. So, times 2-2,942,348 were unnecessary. I'm well aware of the fact that her time is drawing to a close. (Although, I admit it- the dead cartoon cats you drew in my "furry mother's day!" card were really funny.)

I have an appointment with another temp agency on Monday. They seemed enthused, and claim to have a few positions that would suit my skillz. (And yes, every time I see "skills" on a job application, I DO want to write "mad".)

Met with Bosslady today for about an hour (I know. it took me almost as long to get there and back, as for the meeting. *eyeroll*. What happened during this hour?

1. Drafted the letter acknowledging donations from the benefit, printed it for all two of the donors
2. Printed the check-copy requests again
3. Showed BL how to code a picture with a link onto the website.
4. updated quickbooks
5. Installed the DSL
6. Copied the mailing list, and sent it to the printer
8. Listened to BL blather.

After she left, I tied up a few loose ends, still seem to have forgotten my Allman Brothers CD, but will check my totebag (I don't recall having seen the disc on my desk). Unless she comes up with some freelance stuff to work on this week, I doubt I'll charge her for the time. (almost 2 hours) It's worth it to me to not have to deal with her. I want her to go through the book, and learn how to do what I did, bcause I? Won't be there.

Although part of me says I probably will be, because I suck at saying "no", though not to the point that Stoltzfus has gotten. Speaking of Stoltzfus, he's a swell guy. I like him heaps, loads, and bushel basketsfull. He's on Yahoo personals. I'm on Yahoo personals. He keeps popping up on my match list, and vice versa, I'm sure. It's kind of creepy, because it's one of those "I can't look, that's like trolling the family reunion for hookups", but you want to look so badly. But you know that if you do, you'll turn to stone, or something like that.

Also, Stoltzfus, (if you're reading this) how the HELL do you get these pornstar lookin' babes? (and some of them, not just lookin') Because, seriously? Most of the guys on my matches make Ted Kaczynski look like a mild-mannered accountant. I'm half tempted to steal another page from the Tomato Nation Personal Ad Experiment (I already stole "Chipper Misanthrope Seeks Same") and include the following tidbits, in no particular order:

1. I don't want to be someone's "princess", "lady", or "soulmate". I'll settle for being someone's girl. friend, and whatever else comes along. Because, seriously fellas, if a girl refers to herself as "princess" she's 5. And if you refer to ME as princess? I'm gonna think you think I'm 5 too.

2. I don't do high-maintenance. It's genetically impossible. Don't let the judicious application of the curling iron fool you. That goes both ways. If we click, I'll want to spend time with you, I'll want to make you a part of my life, and I hope you'll do the same. I don't need to be surgically attached to your hip, and we don't have to spend every waking moment together. I like quiet time with my cats, a book, and a really good episode of L&O. (Note: this does not exempt either one of us from calling when we say we will and all that stuff, but it means we stop short of having to file restraining orders and anti-stalking paperwork.)

3. See that picture up there? That's really me. Guess what. I'm not a supermodel, nor do I weigh 15 pounds. I'm not quasimodo, but I'm not everyone's cup of tea. No big whoop. Do us both a favor. If you don't like chunky girls, don't bother. Because you know what sucks more than freaking out for a week about meeting someone you think you have a connection with? Meeting that person, then never hearing from them again, because you KNOW they didn't dig your looks. (And yes, I was guilty of this once, and will never do it again.)

4. I am not a typical girlie girl. I love skirts, sewing, cooking, and doing girlie things, but I also love football, and sports talk radio, and beer. I think the Ford Mustang is the vehicular equivalent of fucking. Simply looking at one makes the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I'm handy with duct tape, and not afraid of power tools. I doubt highly that I will ever utter the words "Ohmigod! We must go rent that (insert name of chick flick here)" except in jest. That doesn't mean I don't like to look nice and smell good. And believe me, I can trade disgusting jokes, double entendres, and witticisims with you all night long. (Though I may be a bit rusty at the moment.)

Of course, if I do this, I'll probably frighten away 90% of the people who clicked on the ad. (The other 10%? Won't know what "misanthrope" means.) Enh. And yes, I know I don't need another guy/girl to make me a complete person. I was born with the full brain, and enough common sense to be able to amuse my own bad self. Doesn't mean I wouldn't mind sharing my amusement with someone else. Anyway.