*insert witty title here*
2005-06-02, 2:51 p.m.

A music meme addendum:
Thanks to the lovely Christine, doofus here can now check the music file size. This computer has a modest 1.6GB. The new one in our bedroom? 7.77GB. There are one or two songs on that one, apparently, that aren�t on this one. Just a couple.

This morning was our last ladies� church circle par-taymeeting for the summer, held at a member�s house. That meant a Bible lesson, food, booze (mimosas!), more food, more booze, and more booze, which is a big draw card for Presbyterianism. We learn our stuff in style. *hic*

Our classy and sensible church has a classy and sensible fund raiser for missions going on for the next two weeks. For the modest sum of $25, the church will embellish the yard of your choice with a toilet. Not just any toilet, a toilet with big bright signage. For $20 said toilet will be removed immediately, and for an additional $10 you can specify its next landing zone. A straight $10 donation will net you non-toiletizing insurance. Given the high proportion of business leaders, local politicians, and others for whom cash blessings flow that attend our church, this is turning out to be a gin-u-wine hit. It�s almost as good as our assistant pastor, who during last year�s mission trip, encouraged the attendees to lie and conceal stuff as they crossed the Mexican border. They were taking shoes to little kids, SHOES�geez, people. �Smuggling for the Savior and Lying for the Lord� is how he put it. His continued existence is proof that God has a sense of humor.

Son�s school cafeteria cashier ice cream thingy lady called again today, third day in a row, to tell me that his account is already sucked dry and he needs lunch money. She had left messages saying he was eating breakfast there every day. Today I told her no, we feed him each morning at home. She told me that he scoots in there first thing and eats AGAIN. So if this child is having two breakfasts, snack, lunch, snack, and supper, and another snack, how come he�s been the same weight and clothing and shoe size for the past three years? WHERE DOES IT GO?

MY butt, that�s where. Psychic calories. I�m doomed.

Hubby gets all the fun. He reported to work early today for�
Da dada DAAAAAA! Forklift training!
Nascar in a warehouse at 5mph. It�s not fair.
I am going to apply for a job there just to get forklift training. Then, after chasing around and scooping up various supervisory individuals, and a few other major OSHA violations, I�ll quit.

At his old job in Indiana, Hubby and a few other cubicle jockeys would wear dress shirts and ties to work on Fridays, then skip lunch and head for the go-cart track. Engineers Gone Wild. Woooo. Livin� on the edge and all that.

Daughter slept until nearly 1pm and then expected me to make her a sandwich because she was still too tired to make it herself. Um, no.

Hubby�s home early and up from his nap. I must go refuse to make him a sandwich, too.

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