War Kittens Is The Funniest Thing I've Heard In An Ad In A While.

You know WAR KITTENS?! was the funny thing someone came up with when they were bored in a meeting and they finally found a way to sell it to a client. It cracks me up every time because I can see the creative team in my head and they all look like people I know. Anyway. I miss that part of advertising.

The hospital gig is better. They finally hired another person to work the night shift so I can actually leave on time. Sort of on time. She's late every day, and yes, I get it that it's karma for my chronic lateness. Hot Carl says tardiness is a deal breaker. I've been early twice for Stefanie recently.

I'm practicing defensive coworking by just leaving, whether she's there or not. I'm excited that I'll be able to go to yoga now, like I planned when I took this gig. There are a lot of advantages to finishing by 2:45 pm every day. I have learned in the last couple years of underemployment that I really like being home early. I like being done at a certain time and just leaving. It's nice to punch out and leave the chaos to someone else instead of having to stay and fix the chaos. I got enough chaos. More of it can blow me.

If you want to meet strangers, play cards at a bar for drinks. In particular, play Uno. You get to say, "SUCK MY YELLOW DRAW FOUR, LOSER!" to total strangers and then you still get a free shot of whiskey. Plus, pretty much everyone knows how to play already and there's not too many rules to keep track of in the midst of all the bar noise and alchohol. You don't even need a table. Put a bar stool in the middle of the circle and use that for the discard pile. Group participation puts everyone in a good mood so everyone has a good time. We had the right amount of fun and I wasn't a bit hungover. You can't double-fist the beers if you have 27 Uno cards and Stefanie keeps telling you, "Skip you, BITCH."

I've been off Coca-Cola for two weeks now. I only backslid once when I was in the middle of the hangover shakes. I didn't feel too terrible, but my hands were shaking. Maybe it was the DTs. It's one of my weird hangover symptoms, the shaking hands. Been happening since high school. I probably have neurological damage from my 18th birthday celebration. Anyway, I had a Coke in a collins glass so it was just enough to take the edge off but not enough to send me into a sugar/shame spiral. And that was over a week ago, so we're all good. Damn, I shouldn't have started talking about it cause now I want one. I gotta go get me an iced tea, man.

I Am Excited About Million-Dollar Password. Aren't You?

So I think Password would be the most fun game show to go on, as long as your celebrity wasn't stupid. Like my dream celebrity Password partner would be William H. Macy. I bet we would kick ass and win two million, just for sheer awesomeness. Awesomosity. Awesoment. Whatever. It would rock. Also, I haven't looked at the Internet in over a week and the first thing I saw was that George Clooney may be single again. That brings me comfort. I dream of living next door in a KurtnGoldie situation and sending him semaphore signals from my balcony overlooking the pool. Also, it is difficult to eat a sandwich one-handed with a fork. I'm sure that was worrying you.

This bartender looks like my cousin. Actually, he looks like two of my cousins did twenty years ago. Interesting. Not really, but I had to say something. I haven't been up to any shenanigans lately. I would like to have shenanigans to report this evening, but I'm not in my usual bar, so I'm a bit out of my element. I'm actually wearing what is known to chicks as jeans n' a cute top n' strappy sandals. I am sick of t-shirts. Which is sad because I hate ironing more. You would think that I would enjoy the whole OCD precision aspect of it, but that's why I hate it. I can't enjoy it because I can't iron as well as the dry cleaner. One of my many flaws. Cons: can't iron like a professional. Pros: laundry gets done faster. It's all relative.

I let my sandwich get all cold and now I can't pull it apart like I like. I suffer for my art. Um, I guess that's it. It's ok to be underwhelmed. I will try to be involved in a gangland-style shoot-out between antiques dealers or something.

The password is:

stilted