When I picked Sean up from the airport this morning, after his five days in Tahoe, the first thing I saw was the hospital bracelet around his wrist. Then I looked down and saw that the boy was WEARING SLIPPERS. In an airport! I immediately searched around in case he was dragging an IV behind him or leaning on a pair of crutches, but there was no further evidence that he'd suffered a life-endangering snowboard accident. And, uh, that's because he hadn't. Do you want to know why he'd been to the hospital?
So remember my last entry, when I spilled someone else's salad and wore a sweater that wasn't appropriate for the weather and I was all "god, I'm having the WORST DAY EVER." Remember that?
You know what's pretty awful?
When I was about 17, we read Ben Jonson's play Volpone in English class and I wasn't really into it. I was much more enamoured of the other two books we were studying---The Great Gatsby and Lyrical Ballads, I think---and every time Tuesday afternoon rolled around, I could hardly believe it was Volpone day again, because it seemed like we'd just had Volpone day and seriously, now we were having it again?
Don't you wish you worked in the office in The Office? Preferably the NBC one rather than the BBC one, mainly because Jim is quite a bit hotter than Tim, but still, either would do. My office is not like The Office, but sometimes it's still quite amusing. Sometimes there are scenes like this:
I believe this may be a picture of me wearing them; Susie very kindly e-mailed it to me after (probably) wetting herself upon finding it in the family photo album. Somewhere I have one where I am wearing the same glasses---or at least some very similar ones---plus some very high-waisted tapered jeans, a plaid flannel shirt that's three sizes too big AND TUCKED IN, and some kind of medallion that I can only hope I borrowed from someone else and didn't actually PART WITH CASH FOR.
So apparently people Google themselves way more than I'd realized, and maybe sometimes this can get me in trouble, if, say, someone about whom I'd been talking on my website happens to do a little research on himself one day and gets directed here.
So here we all are for week three of Secret Bachelor Tuesdays! Take a seat! Hide your shame! And remember: I'm watching so you don't have to!
Last night, Gallaudet---who lives in Iowa, which is a place I totally used to make fun of but can't possibly now because I rather like her (but seriously, come on, doesn't it just make a joke funnier if you can somehow work "Des Moines, Iowa" into it somewhere?)---left me this in my comment box:
Dear Holly's Employer,