Crazy Cat Lady

Found this on Craigslist. Made me chuckle...


http://inlandempire.craigslist.org/about/best/wdc/76478516.html

I'm pretty notorious for having a dirty car. I've even mentioned here before that I'm too cheap to have my car washed and too lazy to do it myself, so the car stays dirty until I can no longer see through the windshield. During the semester I practically live out of my car, so there is usually only room for one person - me. When we go to lunch at work, we always end up taking somebody elses car because it's too much of a hassle to move all of the junk in the car to make room for other passengers. And even when there is room, Michelle always offers to drive because she's disgusted at the thought of riding in a crumb-filled car.

Well my friends, I'm proud to announce that I visited the local University Chevron and laid down $7.97 to have the car washed. And they did everything from polishing the hubcaps to wiping out the dashboard. My car hasn't been this clean since I bought it. I did, however, notice that I had considerably less change in my dish than when I had first arrived. But a minor price to pay to drive around in such a clean ride.

So I've been taking this dance class at the gym. It's been a looooong time since I've taken any sort of organized dance class. I came close to taking one at my old cheer coach, Sally's dance studio about a year ago. I called her up and asked if she had any adult classes and she says, "Yeeeeeah, we have a lot. How about hip-hop?" So I go to check it out and observe one day, and the oldest in the class is like 15. Not my idea of adult, but whatever. So I've been leary(sp?) of signing up and paying for one at the city or whatever, for fear I'll be this aging has-been cheer-dancer in group full of juicy couture sporting eleventeen year olds.

So anyway, on Tuesday nights our local 24 Hour offers "Dance Jam" with Julie. And it rules. There's all different skill levels taking it (from rythym retarded to hip hoppin' homos) and Julie is just the epitome of cool. One of those kick ass dancin', no worries, life is good kinda women. I like her, a lot; and I like her class, too. I love Tuesday nights. Ravin' on Jammin' Julie.

What I don't love is the fact that I always get there early to get a good spot (it always fills up), then 5 minutes into class some no rythym hag jumps right in front of me, taking up my view of Julie, but more importantly, my view of me in the mirror. Dammit, doesn't this bitch know that if you're late, it's to the back of the bus wit you?!? I mean, it'd be one thing if there were room in front of me, but there wasn't. There never is towards the front. That's why the peeps like myself get there early, beyatch. Plus, she took up all of my spread out and get groovy room. How am I supposed to perfect my fun-kay-ness if I have no room to slide around?? Rantin' on the space hog in my dance class.

Why is it that I am finding myself strangely attracted to Bam Margera?

Is it his bad boy tendencies? His blue eyes? His fierce skateboarding techniques? The mole?

Somebody help me out here.

Life at work is good. For those who aren't "in the know", some changes in my broker arrangement have been made. They took away 3 of my brokers and gave me a different one (praise Jesus), so my workload has been significantly reduced. I mean, I still am kept busy, but it's completely manageable now, whereas before it was not. (At least not for me and my experience at the firm.)

So I've finally cleaned up my desk and organized it a bit, and today I decided to sort my email folders because they needed a little house cleaning. While going through them I came across an email from Rebekah, (Deborah Bruns's sister, for those who know her) that I had never deleted because I liked it. Rebekah used to sit next to me in the office, but she up and moved to North Carolina in January. It was my favorite period working there when I was next to her because she was such a cool person. (I miss ya, RP.) But anyway, I saved this email from her, and normally I don't save this stuff nor forward it on, but I liked this one in particular because I guess it's kinda true, and for those of us who it applies to, it's slightly encouraging (and funny at the end). So here's to us amazing apples....


>>Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid they might fall and get hurt. Instead, they might take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one that's brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with. <<

Or does anyone else find that commercial with the couple in the leaking boat completely obnoxious? 1) Who carrries an entire box of tampons in their purse? 2) Like a "regular" size tampon would stop a sinking barge? (Sure doesn't seem to always stop the red river flow if you know what I mean) 3) What normal guy wouldn't have gotten totally freaked, jumped overboard and swam to shore as a result? I know I want to runaway when that commercial comes on. Which ones annoy you?