Sorry about the dearth of updates this week, here at Chez Swine. Evidently a weekend in heaven has its price and I’ve been a busy girl, at work and home.

Without much else of interest going on in my life, I can only offer the following boondoggle:

1) If you buy a twinpack of Slim Jims from the office vending machine, and you notice that, after consuming the first weenie, the second weenie has an oddish, greenish pallor, do not eat the weenie. I repeat: Do not eat the weenie.

Evidently, the oddish, greenish pallor found on a tube of petrified cow-ass, is a sign. A sign easily misread as Green for Go Ahead and eat it. When it really was warning: Green is for the color of your face, in response to the pain. And Go, as in, you will. Much.

2) Every year, around this time, an insidiously repugnant disease makes its way around our neighborhood. It’s known as “Getting-Booed-Sucksalottis.” You can read about it here.
Sure, it sounds all cute and cozy and kind and neighborly. But I hate it. For one thing, since when is Halloween about spreading good cheer? Halloween is about dead people.

But the bottom line, for me, is that this Booed crap is a pain in the ass. In our neighborhood, the rule is you must Re-Boo two other families, within 24 hours, or a hex is put on your household. Yeah, nice.

So, you get home from a long day at work and find the bag of crap on the front step. The most important task is to get copies made of the ghost and the instructions, so you can get the ghost in the window to ward off further blessings and to give your anonymous donors a nod of recognition.

But a person might forget to bring the papers to work, to copy. And then her husband's copy machine might run out of ink, mid- copy, requiring her to fill in the weak areas of the copies with a purple crayon, because she can't find any black markers, or crayons.

Then there's the shopping for the gifts. And putting the bags together. And trying to sneak them on a doorstep, without being seen. Activities to cram into an already busy life schedule.

Lucky for me, the vending machine company at work was holding what they called a "Product Recall Sale," so I was able to get gift bag booty, right there at work. A half dozen packages of Slim Jims, for practically nothing. ::For some reason, however, I'm particularly anxious that my identity remains unknown,this year. Fortunately, there haven't been any stories of late night trips to the E.R., passing 'round the 'hood.::

And next year, I'm going to be one of the first people on the block with a ghost in the window. On Labor Day.

3) On casual Friday, we get to wear jeans. Yesterday I wore dress slacks. Why? Because some time Thursday, while I slept, I was abducted by aliens, who brought me up into their spaceship and took two scoops of my ass, and applied them to the sides of my hips. One mooshy scoop a-piece.

Seriously, I could not zip my jeans. Either pair. I even laid down on the bed. Here's the weird thing: I wore these jeans last weekend, and I have not gained any weight, this week. Keep in mind, I do 40 to 50 minutes of cardio, 4 or 5 times a week. In fact, I've lost about three pounds over the past 10 days. Yet, somehow,and practically overnight, I developed these lumps of fat on my hips. And now my jeans don't fit.

Anybody?

4) The other day I was reading an animal book to The Cakers. She's had this book since babyhood, so was familiar with all the names for the animals. Or so I thought. When I pointed to the chinchilla and asked her what it was, she said she didn't know. So, I gave her a hint by pointing to my chin. She looked at my chin for a few seconds, then said "Whiskers?"

Knitting Knuggets
I only had one knitting op this week, but an update is forthcoming.

This is my first weekend, in a while, where I don't have any place I have to be. I think I'm gonna go enjoy a little piece of that. I'll leave you with a shot of the lake I took last weekend, at twilight.

Labels: Now You're Whining, Pho-Ho', With Grace My Ass