Why am I here?

I need to buy shoes and do laundry

So, barring some icky fight between now and departure time--I am doing this Lake thing. We are coming close this morning--over laundry, actually. This is my fault, of course, because I don't really want to go. Okay, I'm terrified.

I did go shopping, however. Although, except for a swimsuit and a COVER UP, I didn't buy anything I didn't already need. A couple of pairs of shorts, a couple of tanks, a mini skirt and a long, peasant skirt.

Yesterday, Lohr, the Bud distributorship (Lohr has been paired with AB since ABs inception almost), ran a "born on" promotion and gave away free Budweiser that was bottled just that morning. Quite frankly, it didn't taste much different (which means that the bottling process at AB keeps the beer day 1 fresh longer than just one day.) Eventually, though, I had to switch seats at the bar. Some young couple was in, calling Pat "Mama" and being over-the-top obsequious. At one point, I asked why they called her Mama. (It was short for MamaMeow). Because, they explained, she's the Mama of the Meow. "She owns this place," he told me confidentially. Ooh, didn't know THAT. Bill, Tom and I determined that these people must only come in on Fridays after 5--because besides Pat the only other bartender they know is Karen. After I had established that I was more or less a regular, they decided to ignore me--most probably because they wouldn't be able to impress me with their familiarity with Pat or the bar.

Also determined--and I'll be sure to confirm first--I'm going to see the Dead with Tom and his buddy Scott (who's sober). He practically insisted that I must. He sold me.

I need to buy shoes and do laundry. I cannot believe I'm actually going FAR.

Went to Tadpoles and Froggies today and added to my plethora of office distractions: a top, a mini-slinky, GOLD Silly Putty, another set of clay (this one neon colors), two good luck piggies, a dancing/collapsing cat, a disk shooter, and a mini zen garden. Oh, and a mood ring--it's a band, not one of those 70s kind with the big opal thing.

You are all jealous. Admit it.

All of my tights have holes and all my hose have runs. This is just a fact of my life. I can't wear a pair of either anymore without ripping them within hours of putting them on. I think I should make it part of my character. I did this with socks in highschool. One day, I realized I had no two socks that were alike, so...I started wearing two different ones. Both would coordinate with each other and what I was wearing (at least I like to think so, but one of my favorite socks was a stark, 80s-style--it was the 80s after all--black and white argyle, that I believe I wore with a pink sock. I just can't for the life of me figure out what I wore with THAT combination). Mostly, I wore jeans. Okay, I always wore jeans when I wore socks, but my socks always matched what I wore on top.

Eventually, people noticed this, people commented on this, it became a BIG DEAL. Then other people started wearing mismatched socks. So, I went out and bought new socks.