I haven�t done this in a while, so expect me to totally blow my wad.

Eww.

Well, last night was actually officially un-busy. But I�ll be damned if I�m going to spend time on the computer when the couch hadn�t had a good sitting on it all week long. Last night was eating reheated leftovers, watching a Good Eats DVD, sitting in my underwear, and snuggling with the kitties night. It was nice. It was exactly what I needed after the hellish day I had at work.

No speaking of work because it�s all just boring, but I spent yesterday documenting a bunch of stuff to get someone in trouble. And in turn, this getting someone else in trouble is just going to make them pissy at me. And since she�s already acting like a little princess, tossing petals to cover the stink from her ass that is already on the line, I�m having to slowly wade through the fragrant pieces of flower, hoping that I don�t step in any turdlings she happened to leave along the way.

So yeah, that�s where work stands. And my 40 hours for the week are up before I can even start to think what�s for lunch.

It�s going to be a tomato sandwich on toast slathered with a bit of Nayonaise.

D�oh!

I officially love my Roomba. I want to bake it cookies and tuck it into bed each night.

Not in bed with me. It's not that kind of love.

It's more of an appreciation. And I just want to keep it happy. Alas, the best I can do is empty its tray and clean the hair out of its wheels.

Not last night, but the two nights before, I had myself a houseguest. This was a rather odd arrangement, as I didn�t know she who slept on my couch until she appeared at my doorstep. It was one of those friend-of-a-friend arrangements, and luckily it turned out well.

She was neither troll-like nor sloth-like, and she didn�t mind Ming being in her face. Having Ming off of my face, I found this a fine arrangement.

One funny moment: When she first got to my apartment, she called to let me know that she got in okay. She asked, �Do I need to feed your cats?�

�Um, no. I feed them before I leave for work and then when I get home from work. If their bowls are empty, I guess it�s all right to feed them.�

�Okay. I was just wondering. The little one jumped on me and tried to eat my hand.�

Ming has this thing where she�ll suckle your hand if you let her. She gets her nose pushed away (gently, of course) if she does this to me, as I�d prefer not to wake up to Ming hickeys on my hands -- or worse yet, places where people will think that my current smooching partner has an exceptionally teeny-tiny mouth.

Another funny moment came when we realized that we hadn�t washed our hands before digging into our Ethiopian food. In essence, we were eating Ming with each bite of the injera bread.

That rotten Ming! [shaking fist]

There are these screens in the elevators at work that flash news headlines, pictures of the week, word of the day, and various other info tidbits. Each day there�s a poll where whoever has enough free time to log onto the screen�s company�s site can vote on what they think on a particular subject.

Today they asked if people thought that Princess Diana�s death was planned.

And holy shit, 58% of the people who logged onto the site said they believed it was planned.

Gauging by my �holy shit,� I�m pretty sure you can tell that I�m part of the 18% who would say �That�s ridiculous.�

Really people. Come on now.

It was a car wreck -- something that happens to people daily. There�s no weirdly moving bullet with multiple entry points on different sides of the body. There are no gloves that don�t fit. There�s no lack of a body.

Whereas the 24% who said that it�s possible are seemingly correct to teeter-totter on the PC side by saying, �Everything�s possible,� and humming a happy Disney-sounding tune, I�ll take the incident as an unfortunate accident, and remember 1997 as the year I moved to Austin, the year that I could still drink a single bottle of Boones and be silly drunk, the year that I met Sophie ( a dear friend), the year that I cried when I got my grade report because I got a 3.8 instead of a 4.0, etc., etc., etc.

Oh yeah -- let us also not forget that Mother Teresa died right afterwards.

Nevermind. She�s neither pretty nor young. No conspiracy there.

Last night I got a rare moment. Ming�s a little attention whore, so Ham usually stays off to the side. He�s been less playful since the booger moved into his space, and he routinely doles out ass-whoopings as needed.

I understand his anger, but I really miss my Hambone-only moments. A Ham snuggle is a rarity these days, as he routinely sits on his pillow and scowls. Last night I managed to lure Ming out of the bedroom, close the door, and allow Ham some alone-time with his mama.

I got loud purrs, lots of headbutts, and a white chin lifted so high for the rubbings that I couldn�t even see his nubbin of a nose. After several minutes, he hopped off the bed and let me know it was okay for Ming to come back in.

She immediately hopped onto the bed and nuzzled close to me while Ham went back to the passenger pillow. He seemed a lot happier, and this made me happy.

What�s up the annoying-ass cell phone rings? There seems to be a whole lot of them going off around me today. I�m getting ready to shake my fist at them.

Fear the fist shaking. It�s fierce.

Today I had a little-person-in-the-big-world moment. When crossing the river on the bus, I glanced out the window and saw all of the other bridges all of the way west. All of those people, making their way into the city by car, bus, el, and bicycle.

Amazing.

For a moment it makes me realize how insignificant I actually am. I�m just a little bitty individual, taking up a minuscule amount of space. I may affect several lives in numerous ways, but those lives are also just as cosmically insignificant as I am.

Don�t read that all pessimistically. It�s definitely meant for a more an awe-struck tone. The universe is endless, but Princess Diana�s death wasn�t planned.

So there.

On the bus I also had an it�s-a-small-world moment. This old guy kept jabbing his ass into me whenever the bus would move. Whereas my supple ass could handle another ass jabbing into it, my height deficiency makes it where everyone else�s ass is back-level to me.

So this guy was assing me in the back, and it was starting to hurt. When you get forcefully assed in the back, it really throws your whole alignment off. Not wanting to limp with a bruise from his boney old man ass, I turned to give him a dirty look (not nearly the same effect as a fist-shaking, but this definitely didn�t warrant raising my clenched hand to the sky), and it was an old guy from my gym.

Not just any old guy from my gym, mind you. This is the old guy who gets on the treadmill right behind my elliptical trainer, who would rather risk a heart attack than to give up that most-popular spot so he can intently stare at my ass.

Maybe he prefers that particular treadmill just as I prefer that particular elliptical machine, you suggest.

But, no.

Between the wheezing and the grunting and him stopping the moment I finish my thirty-minute faux jaunt, I�m pretty sure those are the wheezes and grunts of a dirty old man and not someone interested in his cardiovascular health.

That�s a whole other vascular sumptin�-sumptin� if ya know what I�m saying [nudge-nudge]

I read a really crappy online health-related magazine yesterday, and they mentioned something about butt germs from sitting on the toilet seat. Since I�m pro-sitting and anti-squatting, this was of interest to me.

I�m convinced that as long as I see nothing on the seat or give it a quick wipe-down to be on safety�s side, all should be cool.

Yesterday at work I decided to try one of those paper seaty things. I was mostly amused that I peed a hole through it and that it was so flimsy that it flushed down with no problems.

If I continue to use one, it�s not going to be out of fear of butt germs. I�m more amused than anything else.

What�s up with sick people coming to work? I�m about to go all Michael Jackson on people and start wearing a little mask. No, between that and the paper seaty to avoid butt germs, I�m not getting all phobic on ya. I just really don�t want to be sick.

Seeing that I have only emergency health insurance, I�d prefer not to need a round of expensive antibiotics, cough suppressants, and decongestants.

Quite simply, if you�re sick, don�t go into public.

I�d love to see the amount of germs crawling around my desk area. The coughers, wheezers, and sneezers are running rampant in my office today, and I don�t want to get sick.

Yesterday while waiting for the el, this lady sniffed in a huge snot globule. Not wanting to sit near her, I moved on down the line.

Another guy coughed into his hand (the same one that would be holding a hand rail near my head, I�m sure), so I moved on down the line.

A lady was wheezing, so I moved on down the line.

A kid was oozing, so I moved on down the line.

Before I knew it, I was getting on the first train car. I�m sure there were sick people on that car too, but I think we should designate sick and well cars to avoid contaminating me.

This is just a service announcement. If you have to cough or sneeze, do so into the nook of your elbow. It catches everything just fine, keeps it from freely floating in the public breathing areas, and leaves your hands un-germy.

Pass the word on. Your help at getting this concept passed on is much appreciated.

Speaking of sick people, I encountered a polite one yesterday. Remember Mick? He�s in his last weekend home from college, and I owed him a dinner for pulling a 4.0 this semester. We agreed on last night, but he was nice enough to spare me when he came down with pink eye.

I don�t recall ever having that bullshit, but I remember my sister getting it and my mom going on a washing rampage. We were encouraged to scrub soapy and often, and the infection passing was prevented.

Had Mick even tried to suggest that he wanted his GPA dinner last night, I�d have ordered him a pizza and had it delivered to his parents� place.

So this is where the story gets good.

Over the weekend Mick found out that his new girlfriend was indeed a lying, cheating bitch. He gave the nonchalant whatever-ho attitude, but he was very pissed about the situation. There wasn�t anything left to say (usually a, �You�re screwing someone behind my back, heh?� covers it), but he still needed to get his stuff back.

No plans were made, but he knew that she�d be home from work last night at a certain time. Mick showed up to collect stuff, refused giving her a chance to �I�m sorry� all over him, and excused himself to the bathroom.

Now this is genius. This is so good that I wish I had thought of it. This is going down in lying, cheating bitchdom history.

Mick went into the bathroom, neglecting to drop trou, and rubbed his pink eye all over her towels.

Goodness, I hadn�t laughed that hard in a long time.

So let this be a lesson to you all: Don�t lie to and cheat on your really sweet, really cute boyfriend. You might just end up with an itchy eye.

There�s your moment of Zen. G�day all.�