Conference Call Hell

I have been on conference calls since 10:30 this morning, and each one has repeated the same thing. Naturally, I'm bored silly. So I read some blogs, and now I'm, well I'm writing this, but before this I was browsing the web. While checking out this site www.parishotelboutique.com I found the most hideous painting, supposedly of an Italian greyhound, that will give you nightmares. Is this just a bad artist or was there actually such a man-faced dog in existence?
I'm hungry. And I have to pee. and I'm not paying any attention to the current conference call so I'll be up the creek when it comes time to actually print up these notes for Mr. Man. I just can't listen to him anymore. Isn't four hours of listening to your boss cruel and unusual punishment? Is this my punishment for pointing and laughing at those less fortunate or fashion challenged?

Oh, this has nothing to do with my conference call hell, but I have to share. I stopped at Rite Aid last night on my way home in my neverending quest for a mascara that will magically transform my puny lashes into something truly bat-worthy, only to land smack dab in the middle of unruly monster central. Now I realize that parenting techniques have changed since the middle ages when I was raised, but if my siblings and I had acted even 1/8th as bad as these kids acted, my mother would have beaten us in public. You know those scenes in movies where the main character is standing still and everyone and everything around them is moving in superspeed? That's what I felt like while waiting in line. A bojangle of brats (yes, that's the official name) ran hither and yon screaming "mama, mama...can I get these? I need this. I want ice cream." and whatever else. Some thing in front of me had some sonic ray gun type toy that made this obnoxious space gun sound (oh, don't act like you don't know what sound I'm talking about) and he kept his finger on the trigger for, like, five full minutes. I had to laugh because it was such a Dennis the Menace moment. And, this being Rite Aid (formerly Thrifty), the clerks only have one speed and no sense of urgency when the lines stretch from the front of the store to Pharmacy. A guy in a motorcycle helmet walked in the door, said "Holy Shit!" and walked back out. I just shook my head and thought, yeah, that's the right idea.
I bought the new Maybelline comb-brush mascara and the CoverGirl mascara with the rubber brush. I'll let you know which one is better. So far I'm not impressed with the CoverGirl.