My brain hurts! :)

Brace yourselves: I'm trying to delve a little bit into customizing my blog. (I'll wait patiently while you pick yourselves up off the floor. I understand the shock.) Better? Okay. Let me explain....No, too long. Let me sum up.* I'm attempting to delete one of my posts - the quiz one below. I think it's throwing off the formatting of the rest of the...format. But it won't let me! All I get is a 404 error message. Grrrr. And my About Me section is at the very bottom of the page, and the links part is all screwed up...sigh. I'm sure it'll straighten out eventually. *twitch* But in the meantime...Mica? HELP! ;) I get the feeling I'd better not bite off more than I can chew. Every time I look at the html code, my brain runs away screaming, leaving me...blank.

******Newsflash******
We interrupt this posting to bring you this message: I have the best cousins in the world! Seriously. They're mine. You can't have them! Back, I say! *Holds perfume bottle of chloroform in a menacing fashion* April fixed my blog for me! Isn't she wonderful? Applause, please!
We now return you to your regularly scheduled (kind of) craziness.
******End Newsflash******

I'm beginning to realize how little I really know about this stuff! So, until I educate myself (do I hear five years? No? How about ten?), I shall be content with posting here and at Craiglove. The Craig Ferguson Fan Site in case you were wondering. Go there, if you dare. I should warn you though, we're all related and all insane. I think it's hereditary. And while you're at it (I foresee a shameless plug coming), go to Coffee Crazy Knitters too!

P.S. Hey, Mica....when I come down there, you're gonna have to teach me some of the cool stuff you do! Because I am planning on coming. No, really! I'm just...not sure when, yet....

My Blog is Possessed

Seriously, I'm beginning to wonder. I love the template I have (had?) called "Scribe" but every time I view it, it looks all...wonky. So, I change it, and even when I republish, it doesn't change anything. Grr....I don't think it likes me too well. Ah, well. Such is life.

In other news, I'm going through re-training at work. The hotel I work at bought new software that cost literally thousands of dollars, so we're having to relearn everything. I'm such a geek. Everyone else was dreading learning the new program, and here's me: "Yippee! I get to play!" Yep. It's official. I'm a geek. Which, I suppose, is better than being a dork or a nerd.

Okay. I have a thing. Can I just say, I CANNOT STAND CRITICAL PEOPLE!!!! All they do is make other people's lives miserable because they have the inability to shut up! Everyone's entitled to their opinion, but they're also entitled to keep it to themselves if they don't like the way someone does something. These are the people you can never please, no matter how hard you try. Because everything you do and everything you say gives them something to complain about to other people. Oh, and coming to you if they have a problem with something you do? Forget it. They'll go to everyone BUT you.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.....wwwhhhhhoooooooo....okay. I'm done ranting for now, I promise. But if you guys were wondering about my constant comments about vacations, this is one reason why. I've been avoiding writing about this for who knows what reason, but I just couldn't take it anymore!

Since I refuse to end any entry on a depressing note, I'm going to try to link to the Craiglove site and Coffee Crazies :) We'll see how well I manage that! (Oh, Mica? If I get stuck, you'll be getting an e-mail with a plea for help!) Smooches!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

I love puzzles. Most of the time. Unfortunately, they also have the not-so-amazing ability to make me look and feel like a complete idiot. For instance, my brother and I were starting a puzzle recently. You know how you usually start by digging out the border pieces? Well, we'd gotten quite a few of them put together when suddenly, we realized "Hey! Where are the corner pieces?"

Always, always, always take a good look at the picture on the box. Obviously, neither Scott or I did this because it took us awhile to get the fact that - you guessed it - it's a circle puzzle. Oval, actually, but that's not the point. In my defense, though, Scott didn't realize this either.

Yeah, yeah, shut up! We have seen the error of our ways and have come to accept that possibly, we need brain transplants. And no, Melifany, you cannot perform the surgery, so stop sharpening your scalpels. (Nice alliteration, huh?)

Why, Why, Why?

Why is it that people can't quite bring themselves to give a two week's notice when they quit a job? Sigh. It's such a standard phrase and we take it so much for granted. A two week's notice generally means your last day will be in TWO WEEKS. Not tomorrow. Not one week. Two Weeks.

Just a pet peeve of mine. Feel free to ignore me at will.

On another note, my car is evidently entering a rebellious stage. Literally. The part about rebellion, not the stage. I mean...oh, forget it. Anyway, I own a 1992 Ford Taurus that has approximately 500,200 miles on it. No exaggeration, sadly enough. A friend was riding in the backseat of my car and rolled the window down. It refused to roll back up. It seems that my car had a stroke somewhere in the electrical circuits. My father and brother couldn't even get the door panel off to see if they could fix it, and then they informed me that now the OTHER back window won't roll back up. They had apparently decided to see if the other windows worked. Well, they found out.

If it was the middle of summer, I really wouldn't care all that much unless it rained. However, I live in Minnesota. It's March. Up here, it could be sixty degrees and sunny, and in the next instant thirty below and in the middle of a blizzard. So, you can understand my distress.

I was thinking if I let the Ford company know how many miles are on my car, maybe I'll get a free car out of the deal. And any second now, a pig will fly by my window. Which would be a miracle, since the nearest pig is probably about ten miles away and on someone's kitchen table.

So, as much as I would like to hop in my car and drive to Texas (BTW, April, if you want cold weather, just move up here! Pleeeease?), it's a little unrealistic right now. That, and I have no money at the moment. Poop.

On the plus side, I'm having a BLT for dinner! (Oh. That's the pig I was talking about earlier?)

Success!

One of my major goals in life is to introduce young people to the joys of classic movies. (i.e. "old" movies) Many of my minions (yes, I have minions. Life is good.) are now addicted to musicals like "Singin' in the Rain" and "Summer Stock". You will notice that both of these star Gene Kelly. Sigh. The best lookin' Irishman that ever was, in my opinion. The hottest Scotsman is of course, Craig Ferguson, but that's another story entirely.

But I digress. Suffice to say, my mission is a success. You'll all excuse me while I sip my Kool-aid in relative peace and celebrate my victory.

On an entirely unrelated note, I adore fun personality quizzes that make absolutely no sense. I took a quiz entitled "Which Stargate SG-1 character are you?" that was convinced I was Daniel Jackson. HA! I'm Jack O'Neill, thankyouverymuch.

So there.

Oh, the torture

I've been tortured today. Repeatedly. You know, hospitality today at meeting was...interesting. Usually, I'm the one *giving* the torture, not getting it. But, alas, today was not one of those times. I let the torturers get away with this because they are related to me. One was my Dad.

On an entirely unrelated note, it's a terrible idea for a person with diabetes to have a huge honkin' slice of sinfully delicious chocolate cake when his blood sugar was 243 this morning.

Just thought I'd let you know.

Anyway, the other torturer is married to my cousin on my Dad's side, and he has a wicked sense of humor that I love! I love it more when it's not focused on me, but I can handle it. I've handled worse. Like last night, for instance.

I work in a hotel. I love my job, for the most part. The only part I don't like is when you're working at 11 o'clock at night and have to deal with drunk people hitting on you. Not a fun experience. I can never say what I really want to without getting into serious trouble with my boss. And believe me, I want to say a lot - not all of it entirely Christian - in these situations.

Generally, I haven't had this problem a lot. But last night was kind of a trial. On a much brighter note, I have the next three days off! Woohoo! How am I going to spend them, you might ask? Easy. Going out in service and doing my best to corrupt my dear friend Alexis.

(It's not working very well so far. She talks back to me too much for it to really be effective! :))

She's now insisting that I provide evidence of her back talk. My response? "I don't have to. I know you're thinking it, and that's enough for me!"

Yeah, yeah, I know. Not fair. Oh well! I'm sure I'll have better evidence by the time she goes home Tuesday! *OW* I've just been hit, so I think that's my cue to get off

Awakenings

I am *not* a morning person. Anyone who's spent any amount of time with me will know this. You know the phrase "mind over mattress"? (If anyone's had Bro. Campagna for a C.O., they'll recognize this!) Yeah, it doesn't work out so well for me. So, when Dad asks me - in my sleep induced haze - if I want to get up for service, I shake my head no. Yes. I am a wuss.

9:30 rolls around, and I'm awoken by the oddest sounds coming from the kitchen. Now, I know I'm the only one left in the house, and I know my cat isn't *that* smart to be making me breakfast. Then, I hear voices.

I panic, since I'm gracefully drooling on the living room futon and (obviously) haven't showered. The next thing I know, there's a highchair sitting in the kitchen, accompanied by my mother and friend Denise - who's just as crazy as I am.

That's not entirely true. She's crazier. Anyway, she looks at my dishevelled state and bleary eyes and immediately kidnaps me. She's very good at this, and has perfected this particular art over our years of pioneering together. ("Coffee?" "Okay!" "Get in the car.") She's also the only woman I know who has hit an owl with her van on the way to meeting.

The mockage from that one incident was enough to last a lifetime. Or, in our case, a week.

I have the strangest friends....

I *SO* don't know what I'm doing...

I have a confession to make.

I've never done this before. Not really. It's a tad intimidating for me to have a blog of my own, but...*sigh*...after seeing the blog of my disgustingly talented cousins (speaking of which, go to micaknits.blogspot.com. NOW! Forget about me, just GO!), I felt I had to give it a try.

Don't count on any pictures, though. I am nowhere near that level of....levelness?

What is this blog about? Good question. Well, if I have an opinion about anything, it will be here. Possibly with a bit of humor involved. If what I have passes for humor, anyway...

I blame my father. If you knew him, you would understand. (Melee, if you read this, you can't comment! :)) His humor is warped and twisted. I swear, it must be a family trait. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

Tiflissa