This is the most awesome thing ever.
This is the second most awesome thing ever.
The least awesome thing ever is that Theodore is sick, which semi accounts for my lack of posting. But it's more that I've been semi-checked out for awhile. The only reason I stopped Friday Dog Blogging was that my camera batter was dead. For over 2 months. And I kept forgetting to charge it. This weekend I finally managed to, so maybe I'll get back on top of that.
At 10:13 a.m., from a visitor in the United Kingdom searching for the purpose of legally blonde, this blog reached it's 200,000th hit.
I find the search rather apt.
I made manicotti tonight. Homemade marinara and all. Without asking my mom any questions. I am rather proud of myself right now, despite the fact that by the end of it I was basically covered in Ricotta Cheese because the ever so handy Food Network technique of cutting the end off a ziploc bag rather than use a pastry tube was kinda messy. Or I'm just uncoordinated. I especially liked it when I squeezed the bag a smidge too hard and the zipper broke open and the ricotta/spinach/egg/seasoning mixture came bursting out. Regardless, it probably would have been worth the time to search through the cabinets to find the pastry bag.
No word yet on how good it is since it's still in the oven baking.
Friend 1: You haven't had sex with him yet?
Friend 2: Nope.
Friend 1: How long have you been dating?
Friend 2: A year, give or take.
Friend 1: Seriously? That long?
Friend 2: We do other stuff, and I just think it'll be a waste of my time.
Friend 1: Why?
Friend 2: [Holds up fingers about 2 inches apart].
Friend 1: It cannot be that small.
Friend 2: Ohh. But it is. It would seriously be a waste of my time.
Friend 1: Did you ever think that maybe it starts vibrating?
Friend 2: No, the thought that he is a machine had not crossed my mind.
Friend 1: Well, you never know.
Tomorrow, for the second time since I've been at my new job, I have to go to the building where the firm I clerked at during law school is. Anyone who has been reading for a substantial period of time knows that this exponentially raises the risk that I run into [Hours], which is one of my greatest dreads in life.
The first time I had to go through a rather rigorous security check-which I was not prepared to pass (who knew you cannot take iPods, mirrors, and camera phones into quasi-Court buildings; when you can take them into actual Court buildings?) and I ended up calling an associate I used to work with to come pick up my "contraband" from me so I could make through security. Which meant later I had to actually go up to [Bill, More, and Hours] and run the risk of having to take an elevator with [Hours] or seeing him in the lobby of the office.
At least tomorrow I will be prepared and the worst case scenario I run into him in the lobby of the building (which actually, the way that scene is playing out in my head with me literally running into him is rather frightening).
The worst part is that I do not know what I would do if I ran into him. He ignored me the last 5 months I worked in the office and pretended I didn't exist when I passed him in the hallway after I refused to tolerate his abuse any further. On one occasion he went so far as to fake a cell phone call when he was going to lunch with 3 other partners (all of whom were standing right there) in an attempt to not get into an elevator I was already on-which backfired when the partners told him to just get on and he was forced to have a fake conversation for the next 27 floors. In all probability he would ignore me, but on the off chance that he attempts to engage in conversation with me I'd like to come off as the articulate and fabulous person that I am.
The only reason I am scared he'd talk to me is that recently he saw my dad downtown and he not only waived but he made a point of crossing the street to say hello. Despite the fact that my father hates him, and [Hours] knows he hates him, due to the abuse I was forced to endure.
Maybe I should just be pre-emptively uber nice to him if I see him. Since I know it would make him extraordinarily uncomfortable to talk to me.
