Mmm... Prodigal blogging...

It's not that I don't love this blog, because I do. I mean, everyone needs an outlet, and most people like to feel like they're being, er... hea(read?) < - What I did there was combine "heard" and "read". Fair damn clever, me.

But sometimes I have nothing to say.

And sometimes I have so much to say and no time in which to say it. And then, by the time I get around to it... It's old and I'm sure no one will care, which, you know, I'm sure no one care cares, but... I don't care anymore, and I guess that's the problem.

So... Anthony (formerly Cosmo, deposed due to the fact that he's never written on here in all the three - four? - years I've had this blog, thus making me The Gurl, which I am, and not one half of a fabulous fairy team...) has started working with me at my fabulous and wonderful Corus. It's terrific and has finally stopped being weird, seeing him every time I go past his office on my way to the washroom.

Teresa, dear, sweet St. Teresa, she's pregnant. It will be/is a boy. It's all very exciting and she's humungous. And since they baby is Dancing Eric's, he's huge. Natch. And due to a slight mishap about 6 weeks ago, he's been given a special enzyme to strengthen his lungs in the eventuality of an early delivery. And he'll probably be named Payne, but is currently going by the moniker of "Optimus Prime." Opty for short. And will probably be a super villain of unparalleled genius. With the cutest little Cabbage Patch cheeks ever. And, hopefully, a 'fro. Mmm, genetics.

I'm... SO into old folk right now. I can't help myself.
doo do doo do doo do
and here i am...

I just have this urge to write and write and write. And I don't really have a thing to say, but Anthony's out visiting a friend of ours who will probably keep him hostage till much farther into the wee hours than right now. But he's bringing me chocolate/ice cream and I do want to see him before I pass out. How much longer I'll manage, I'm not sure, but Dr Pepper is here to keep me company, and I'm watching the Carabana crews going home, slowly but surely, out my office window. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to get on the streetcar and head somewhere.

But I'm not complaining. I got my lovely, uber long, delightfully curly headbanging rockergurl hair cut today. And I am SO happy. I've washed it, that took about one fifth the time it's been taking lately, and so I used a bit too much shampoo, it's been at least a year since half the bottle didn't go on my head per use.

I'm gonna save me a fortune!
see the number on the matchbook is old and faded...

Hmm... Isn't that the way they say it goes?