two dolla

It finally happened.

K-Fed took Britney Spears out of his top 8 on myspace.com. That relationship is to the point of no return now!

And you guys wonder what I do in my free time…

Ever since The Great Blog Discovery by Co-Workers in 2006, I’ve refrained a lot from talking about work in great detail. But now I’m not so worried about it since a) I don’t really get a chance to blog at work anyway and b) I write about my co-workers other places anyway. Having said that, now I can tell you about my weekend.

Friday: I got to completely geek out band-geek style. Hardcore even.

Jenni and I went to the University of Minnesota Gopher hockey game and ended up right next to the Gopher Hockey Pep Band. HOLY AWESOME. It absolutely made me miss the seven years of every kind of band class possible I could take during my middle school and high school days. The game ended in a tie, which I’ll never understand, because how is it even a game if nobody wins? As soon as I can figure out what freakin’ penalties are being called, I’m scared I may become obsessed with hockey… like I am with any other sport.

After the game, we went to Palmer’s Bar to wait for Matt, who was going to join us for a show across the street at Nomad World Pub. We just had a couple of drinks at Palmer’s, which is good, because anymore and I may have died t hanks to their incredibly strong drinks.

A co-worker/buddy of mine started Jack Brass Band, so I thought we should check it out. And I’m glad we did, because they were incredibly awesome. They’re an 8ish piece band that fancy themselves, according to their website, “the only New Orleans style brass band in Minneapolis”. If that’s code for awesome, then I totally agree. We missed the beginning of their set, but what we did see was absolutely enough for me to go back next time they play locally. (I’m so the worst music reviewer in the world.)

Saturday: Hi. I slept until 3 p.m. I had good reason. I met up with The Girls at Pizza Luce, where we had a pre-show dinner after we’d all driven around trying to find a parking spot for half an hour. After shivering our way through dinner, we headed outside and walked the few blocks to O’Donovan’s to wait for Matt. We shivered there some more before running across the street to First Ave to see the Doomtree Blowout, baby. I’d heard a ton about Doomtree and their crew from Jenni and I’m so glad I finally got to check them out. Bad. Ass.

I was so drained from the day before, though, that I left around midnight. But holy shit, the two-ish hours we were there (was it even that long?) were way awesome. I mean, hello? White rappers. You know how I feel about white rappers!

In any case, it was a weekend full of great music and that’s not something I can complain about at all.

I’d thought to myself that I’d try posting every day in December.  A ton of people I love reading did it in November and it made my internet-related entertainment fun every day. But then I thought about 11:30 last night, when at my 3rd bar of the night, that it wasn’t going to happen.

Because I had skipping (or so I’ve been told that’s what I was doing) to do instead:

It made for a fun night and all. See how fun?

And it would also explain why my car keys are nowhere to be found. They could possibly be inside my car, but it’s too dark inside the garage to see for sure.

Aside from the shit of strangers that might show up on my bathroom floor from time to time, there’s only one thing I hate about my apartment. I can’t ever get the temperature just right.

My thermometer says it’s 8° outside and 63° inside right now. One would think that means it’s time to turn on the heat, but that’s really a bad idea. If I do turn it on, chances are everyone else in my building will get the same idea and we’ll eventually all be roasting in a 93° sauna. Plus, I get the added warmth of a Fancy Pants puppy whose body temperature is 101.4° as of yesterday evening’s visit to the vet.

But if I don’t turn it on, my two comforters and one hot dog are not enough to keep me warm all night long.

It’s a travesty really.

You know the shit that’s been caked on my bathroom floor since I got home Monday night? Still there. I’ve tried to clean it up with a Swiffer (because that’s all I had) and I even bought a real mop. See my dedication here? No dice on either one, though, because apparently when shit’s been caked on a tile floor, it tends to stay that way for a while.

I’m not above cleaning shit up. I have a dog. I do it outside four or five times a day. But I’m just not really jumping at the chance to scrape this stuff off with a chisel, because that may just be the only option.

I just went down to the rental office at 9:06 (they open at 9). They called the maintenance guy, who tried to say he cleaned it. Right. So I just shit (and perhaps vomited from the looks of it) all over my own bathroom floor that much in the past 36 hours?

Now, I have to wait until the property manager comes in around 10, to see what they’re going to do. I could have just told her what she was going to do, but I was afraid to get to hostile, because I haven’t had a shower since Monday and I didn’t want to go to jail and be known as The Stinky One.

In the meantime, I’ll sit in my own filth and wait, I guess. It’s not like I have a job or anything. At least I have the type of managers that are understanding and will allow me to work from home… but the apartment complex doesn’t know that, ya know?

It’s that time. My Christmas tree is up, half of my Christmas shopping is done, so that can only mean one thing - it’s time to start fundraising for the 2007 Susan G Komen Breast Cancer 3 Day. Surely you were expecting it.

Just as we did last year, we’re selling Christmas holiday cookies to get our fundraising off to a big start.

Orders for chocolate chip, shortbread or peanut butter blossom cookies can be placed at teamboobylicious.com. This year, we’re charging $6/dozen or $25 for 5 dozen.

Local people: we’ll deliver cookies to you at no additional charge, beginning 12/18. You can pay with cash or check at the time of delivery.

Non-local people: heck yes, we’ll ship them to you. Just add $6 to your total and we can figure out the easiest payment option for you.

Wendy’s hometown people: Riley Pants and I can personally and gladly hand-deliver your cookies the weekend before Christmas!

If you’d like to pass along this information to your friends and/or family, feel free to download either the JPG version of our flyer of the PDF version if you’d like to print it out and hang it on every telephone pole you can possibly find.

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Just visit teamboobylicious.com or email me, because seriously? I could talk about The 3 Day for 2098 hours straight. Really.

My plan was to come home today and write about my lovely Thanksgiving weekend, but the idea was thwarted pretty hardcore when I walked into the normally somewhat pleasant apartment I live in and realized it smelled of human waste. Perhaps that’s because the shower drain had backed up, soaking my entire bathroom floor (along with the pile of dirty clothes I had left in it to wash when I got home). It really looks like dried up shit caked in my shower floor, too. That’s the neat thing about it.

But the super neat thing about it? It’s gotta be the smell. Other peoples shit? SO PLEASANT.

I have to pee really bad right now, but there’s no chance in hell I’m going into that bathroom anytime soon. I’m not too proud to either hang my ass over the balcony or go to the gas station until the smell of ass leaves my apartment. Unfortunately, I don’t think the caked-on crap is going to clear itself up anytime soon.

I’ll accept all offers to clean it, though. Really.

I take that back. The maintenance man is now in my bathroom cleaning out my shower. How generous.

I’d totally be first in line.

I ended up taking a nap from about 9 pm until midnight, and now I’m can’t go back to sleep. I took a nap last night from about 4:30 p.m. until 6 p.m. Clearly I’m still recovering from my five day bender business trip to Phoenix.

I blame the fact that I, along with my brother, The Cuz, and her husband Beyonce, was forced to clean the kitchen after Thanksgiving dinner today, and we can’t do anything like grown ups. All the extra effort of taking the pots outside to the garden hose and throwing leftover rolls at my little bro must have really wiped me out.

I kind of want to join the bevy of wackos that are going to start lining up at Wal-Mart’s front door anytime now, but I know I don’t really need that 42″ TV, because how would I get it home, right?

Plus, tomorrow is FAMILY PICTURE DAY.

Less than 12 hours ago, I was poolside half asleep in a lounge chair, covering my face from the intense sunshine with a cowboy hat I’d gotten earlier in the day from a high-level executive at my company.

Now, I’m getting ready to go to my own bed for the first time since last Wednesday morning, crawl under my own down comforter, and watch TV using the channels I know.

Phoenix was fun. SO fun. I feel weird posting most of the pictures I took, because they’re of or with co-workers, and that’s probably not cool. But really? Ton of fun. And it was really the perfectly timed sales conference for me - motivational and exciting enough for me to want to stick around the company for a while longer.

• rode in a hot air balloon
• got my Tarot cards read
• found another work bff. nicknames to distinguish between the two coming soon.
• danced for three hours.
• laughed until my head, stomach, and side hurt
• laughed so hard I farted really loud and it was kind of embarrassing, but I don’t think my work buddies heard it because we were running out of a bar with a basket of mints.

Now I just have to determine how much coffee is necessary tomorrow in order to keep me awake through 8-9 hours of meetings.

This work trip that I bitched a lot about? It’s not turning out to be so bad.