Oct. 31st, 2009 07:53 pm
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I want to make cookies (oatmeal dark chocolate chip, no less), but I only have one stick of butter! And I've already consumed enough alcohol to make driving (but not cooking) a bad idea. FUCK! Everyone else is partying this Halloween, and I'm sitting around wishing I had cookies. That is when you really know you're doin' it wrong.
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Right, so the Check Engine Light Of Dooooom came on in my car as I was driving home from work today. Like a Good and Responsible Adult I took it right in to the service station. They identified the problem pretty quickly:

I'd left my gas cap off.

In my defense? The Check Engine Light of Dooooom came on about a week ago because something had come loose after an oil change. And I last got gas Monday -- how was I suppose to connect the two events?!

I'm pretty sure the mechanics think I'm not quite right in the head now. I could see the pity in their eyes.

Such is my life.
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Right, so I really dragged my feet about registering to vote (I'd been registered in another state), but I did do it at least three weeks before the deadline. It occurred to me today to wonder why I hadn't gotten my little voter card thingy, so I checked online. And I am registered, but the address is wrong. A lot wrong. The only thing right is the street number. Wrong street, wrong city, wrong zip code. Which kind of leads me to believe that the person who fucked up? Not me.

I wonder if I can get it corrected in time. Really, it doesn't matter; Kansas is extremely conservative -- my vote counts for zilch. But it was mine, dammit. I was going to do my civic duty! Make Susan B. Anthony proud! Take part in a (fingers crossed) historic election!

Would it be excessively paranoid of me to suspect the "mistake" happened because I'm a Democrat registering in a red state?

Fucking Republicans.

ETA: I can haz a vote! I called around this morning until I finally got connected with the right person, who cheerfully corrected my address. And then I also wrote a letter to the editor, just to warn people to double-check their registration. Ha.

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Guess how many piles of dog puke I've cleaned up today? Go on, guess.

Nope, higher.


The correct answer is seven. SEVEN. And that's not counting the twoish piles on the back porch. I can't believe that this is all the production of one dog -- their stomachs can't possibly hold that much, right? Which means they're working in tandem. The real fun part is getting my CSI on and examining splatter patterns, content and location to try and figure out who did what.

Remind me, why am I a dog person, again?

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I was super careful not to miss House tonight (with summer and the writer's strike before it, I've gotten out of all my TV watching habits) -- I plopped my little self down in front of the TV right at 7:57 ... only to realize that House is on at 8 EASTERN TIME. And I am on Central time.

Fuck. I am a moron.

December 2010

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