Got the new job! 
If I’m lucky, I might still show up around here this week since I’m still working both gigs and will be trying to figure out how to manage that for a while, heh.
Thanks for all the good wishes and thoughts. They obviously helped!
Work still sucks, and I still haven’t heard from anyone about the other gig.
Crap, I still have to pay bills like I promised someone I would do.
I bought SpongeBob Monopoly today because I’m determined that my kid is going to learn to play board games. Prepare yourself, dear; we’re playing tonight.
Strawberry Whoppers are kinda good, right up to the point when you eat too many of them.
Damn do I wish I had played some Rock Band today while the kid was at his friend’s house.
Microsoft has reaffirmed my faith that they are the devil. TB will probably explain on his blog at some point, but let me just say: Choose your Xbox Live name wisely, as it (a) change your profile name on your Xbox 360 and (b) cost you MONEY to change it in the future - even 3 minutes in the future.
Beagles do not like being left alone. I love my mutt, but that is the biggest downside to pet ownership for me.
I hate shopping for clothes, pants in particular, and little did I know that if you want to buy decent summer clothes, you’d apparently need to be shopping for them in March since the only things left in June are scary.
My kid started jumping off the diving board today; I can’t wait to go see him do it. 
Which I am going to do right now!
As I headed off to my annual gyn appointment the other day, my darling husband looked me straight in the eye and said, in all seriousness, I shit you not:
Have fun, babe.
Fun…? Have FUN??? Did you just tell me to have fun?????…?
Well, um, yeah, I guess I did. I don’t know - What was I supposed to say?
I don’t know, but of all the options in the pool, have fun couldn’t possibly have been the best one!
When I said before that I was accident-prone? Yeah, that might have been understating it just a bit.
Tonight, I was playing with the dog with her most fabulous toy, which is basically very tough tennis ball material in the form of a jack –of the type you played with as a child, not so much the jumping kind or the cards kind. We were doing our patented tug-wrestle, with one arm of the jack in my hands very near my face and one arm of the jack in her mouth (because I was worried that you might think she’d grown an opposable thumb there…). She apparently didn’t have quite as good of a grip as I imagined, or she’d decided to let me have it for being gone part of the day, because she lost her end, and I took the big rounded end of the arm directly in the eye.
IN. THE. EYE.
Not the eyelid. The Eye. It hurt enough that I was rendered incoherent for a couple of minutes and had trouble explaining to my husband, who was just re-entering the room, what had happened. All I knew for sure was that it felt like my eye was going to explode and that whatever liquid was trapped under the eyelid I could not possibly open felt warm. Not a reassuring feeling.
I’m at least happy to report that not only was it not blood, but I can also see. My eyelid is a bit puffy, and my eye is very red and irritated, but everything seems to be working pretty well so far. I was quite happy that I’m not supposed to work tomorrow and quite bummed that I wanted to play Rock Band tonight but figured that it suddenly wasn’t a good time to be keeping my eyes wide open while trying to follow the notes scrolling toward me. Thhppptt.
Mental note: Let the dog win more.
“My feet hurt!”
“Are you going to live?”
“No. They hurt terrible.”
“Do we need to shoot you and put you out of your misery?”
“NO!!!! …. Why would you put me in Missouri?”
“Oh Son - I would NEVER do that.”
Thanks to my husband. Don’t we make a cute couple?
(I took a few liberties with the assigned gender, thankyouverymuch…)
Do I have some fantastic anti-gravity boobs, or what?!?
Your results:
You are Spiderwoman
You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky, and have great power and responsibility.
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Because you never know who will show up, link it, and all hell could break loose.
Well, okay, it hasn’t broken loose just yet. But, on the off chance that it does, I’m realizing that all those things that have been keeping me from getting my collective website house in order are finally almost finished. Said things being (1) taxes, (2) my car getting fixed [Wednesday, people - it could be WEDNESDAY!!!], and (3) my husband’s work in-freakin-sanity. There’s still that whole “last month of school” thing that is approaching and is nothing to sneeze at, but ya know, there’s always going to be that something. In short, it’s time to get off my duff and get it done.
Short pause for a guffaw from my ADD side because I said “get it done.”
Okay, back on track. On checking my e-mail for the first time since taxes, it turns out that ADDitude Magazine, a great resource for ADDers, has added a link to yours truly on their ADHD blogs page. While most likely entirely search-engine-rendered, I’m going to choose instead to be highly flattered (she said with a giggle), and I’m going to take inspiration to finally make an attempt at some pages that I’ve been MTD for quite some time now — such as the one that contains Dyskinesia Speak and lets you know that MTD is my abbreviation for one of the most-used ADD phrases uttered: Meaning To Do. And, yes, even my About page that you’ve all loving clicked upon a thousand times only to find out that while I’m apparently willing to tell you about my car accident, my neighbors, and music that I like, I’m apparently too lame to get around to describing myself.
WELL, NO MORE, PEOPLE! I’M SETTING ABOUT A TASK HERE!
And now that I’m committed to my task, I just remembered that I forgot to take my Adderall today. I know. You can already tell that your reading future here is in safe hands, huh? ;)
I shall return – postmedication, postbank, and postfood and caffeine of some sort for good measure!
I’m a Gmail user. I was a fairly early Gmail user, having been invited by a much bigger nerd friend who was a really early Gmail user. Since becoming a Gmail user, I’ve been really happy with the service, though I think their organizational system sucks. I’m all for outdoing anything Microsoft, believe me (*nyeeet, nerrrt, vyyyrrrt, vrrraaat…..Bill Gates is the devil….nyeeet, nerrrt), but they missed the mark on that starring crap and having to label every message that meets the inbox. I’ve felt that I could announce my association with Gmail in a positive light and promote their service.
Right up until yesterday, when Gmail made me a liar by association.
I’m not a saint. I’ve lied about calls I’ve never made. I’ve fibbed about what time I left the house or that I must have been outside when the phone rang. Heck, what the hell, I may possibly (but not certainly) have even fudged the date on the postage machine a time or two (you can’t prove it!). So, I can certainly understand the possible problem of not having forgotten to send an important e-mail to someone by a crucial deadline.
But seriously, the CustomTime feature that Gmail just added now brings every important e-mail sent by every Gmail user under suspicion. Did he really send that when he said he did? Did it really get caught in a server blackout on my end when there was a storm in my city or did he use the Gmail CustomTime feature to make me think he didn’t miss that deadline?
Unbelievable, Gmail. You act like you’re trying to help your business clients by providing them the opportunity to whitewash, all while using your other hand to smear mud on the ones who weren’t stuffing $1 bills in some dancer’s G-string when they were supposed to be sending that quote to the client.
Do me a favor? Don’t do me anymore favors unless you’re going to send a week’s worth of those $1 bills my way.
*That’s a record playing backwards, in case you didn’t know.
**Remember Mikey from the Life cereal commercial? He’s dead. Pop Rocks and Coke. Haven’t you heard?
***Ozzy Osbourne has eaten a bat a day for the last 30 years.
****Paris Hilton is having Lindsay Lohan’s lovechild. Pass it on.
*(5) Yes, I’m so lame that I can’t come up with my own April Fool’s and had to climb on Gmail’s. But I had ya goin, didn’t I?
Just a tidbit for anyone considering running from their bills: You never know when your dirty laundry will end up in someone else’s house.
6 p.m. yesterday - phone rings…
“Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Ms. Dyskinesia?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Ms. D, this is Horrified-sounding-I’ve-only-been-at-this-job-for-a-week Smith with Ford Motor Credit. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to get a message to your neighbors, Dick & Jane Johnson?”
“Ummm, except that I don’t have any idea who they are….”
“Oh. I’m sorry. It says here that they live at AddressNumberAcrossTheStreet?”
“Oh, so that’s their names, huh? They’re fairly new to the neighborhood. I’m a total hermit, but sure, I have seen their physical forms more than once so I do know they exist. So, what can I do ya for?”
“Well, I need to get a message to them to call me at this number. Would you be willing to deliver that message? I mean, I understand if you wouldn’t be comfortable doing that if you don’t know them.”
“Oh, no problem. I live for nothing more than delivering bad news to total strangers that I’ve seen arguing on their lawn like a couple of psychos. Gimme the number, and I’ll get it right to them!”
She did.
I didn’t.
And you know why I didn’t? Because if I have to hear you screaming obscenities at each other as you load the car for your vacation (while your 12-year-old daughter is SITTING ON THE STEPS listening to your idiot selves), I’m not doing you any damn favors anytime soon.
Besides, what’s more fun that watching the repo guy come steal your neighbors’ truck in the middle of the night?
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