Did you miss me?

Holy Crap! Have I really not posted since Monday?

It was a crazy ass week, y'all. Meetings were scheduled, unscheduled, rescheduled, and postponed altogether. Oh, and you know what else happened that sucked the big one? The underwire on my last good bra snapped, leaving my left boob unsupported at an inopportune moment. So, now I have to spend non-budgeted money to buy two good bras that I can wear with v-necks (because the girls like to breathe) and under T-shirts (lace won't do). And, because the girls are humongous, I can't shop at Target or Ross. I'll have to go to Nordstroms or Lane Bryant or some classy joint where they cater to us full figured gals. Oh, and Playtex? Makers of the World-Famous-and-touted-by-the-well-endowed-Jane-Russell "18-Hour Bra"? No underwire and most styles not in my size. You can suck it, Playtex! Believe me, I need the underwire. Oh they tell you it supports without, but it doesn't really. I like to think of the underwire as the electric fence that keeps the girls from sneaking out past curfew. So, there's that.

Today, I had to work at a special conference. Since it was in Rosemead and I had to be there at the crack of dawn, I set my alarm for 5:00am. My kind, sweet alarm clock must have seen the time and thought to itself, "Oh, that silly girl. It's Saturday and she accidentally set the alarm. I'll do her a solid and NOT wake her up." Fortunately, I woke up on my own at 5:30 and was only 10 minutes late. However, I am soooo tired right now. I am fully ready to sleep and it's only 6:30. I may just go get dinner and see if that perks me up.

And you know that whole finish stuff in March? Well, I don't know how I expect to do that when I just keep starting things. I mean, honestly. What did I do last night watching Battlestar Galactica* (Season one, just the miniseries so far, so don't ruin it for me)? I knit pocket tissue covers--you know, for the little tissue packs your mom always carried in her purse? Why did I do this? I don't know. I guess I just wasn't feeling the other knits.

There you go. That ought to hold you for a while. At least until I have something noteworthy, like new bras.


*Did I ever tell you about my teenage crush on Richard Hatch, the original Capt. Apollo? I babysat for these kids who watched Battlestar Galactica religiously. I didn't mind because Richard Hatch was a hottie. Flash forward to 1996--I started working at Tower Records and discovered my co-worker, Paul Hatch, was the equally hot son of hottie Richard Hatch. Paul looks remarkably like his father but with lighter hair. Anywho, I told Paul what a crush I had on his Dad when I was young and one day he came up to me and said, "Hey Laur, I'm wearing Richard Hatch's shirt. Do you wanna touch it?" I did, but only because Paul was also hot and had a great body, not because it belonged to his dad. That is all.