What in the hell is wrong with you people?

This afternoon I’m in the bathroom at work and for once don’t avoid eye contact with myself in the mirror. What do I see?

The hair is back, and not ONE OF YOU mentioned it to me.

Yes, the hair. That gross scraggly one that grows right out of the center of my chin, up underneath where I can’t see it until it’s a quarter of an inch long. The one that proves I’m destined to be a mean old spinster witch.

Tanks fer nuttin, jackholes.

Tonight I’ll be attending the wedding of my dear friend Stinky D to her long time beau Darren in an intimate ceremony on the edge of/overlooking The Park.

The forecast calls for cool air and late showers, which if you ask me, heightens the romance of it all.

Expect pictures tomorrow, in the meantime you can enjoy their engagement photos…aren’t they effing adorable?

I passed a co-worker in the hall yesterday and she said “I can’t wait -it’s almost boot season, no more flip flops!” and glanced at my feet.

Psha. As if.

Passed the test, worked until 11pm, slept with the windows open.

The end.

I’ve been in class the last few days without a ‘puter in front of me and I’m going through detox…which is neither here nor there. The bad news for you is that I have a certification test this afternoon I need to study for, so this is all you get.

Happy Birthday to my baby boy.

Is it that time already? Waking in the dark, rain rolling though in the night and dropping the temperature, making sleep with windows spread wide bearable?

We’re three days away from the end of summer, one day away from my Baby Boy celebrating another year of survival, and three months from my own odometer turning yet again despite elaborate protests.

Consequently, September 22 is also apparently Hobbit Day. Mark your calendars.

I remember as a kid first hearing the story of Helen Keller and being petrified of becoming deaf or blind.

So of course, I practiced.

At 6 or 7 I’d walk around my house - eyes closed - feeling my way and testing my memory as to furniture placement and light switches (why I’d need a light switch if I was blind is beyond me) and in my later years when all the other kids were getting an easy A in Spanish, I was taking Sign.

Those days, Cin and I would ride the city bus and sign entire conversations, the girls and I would do the same at Chez Dennoui (Denny’s) over endless cups of coffee while studying. It was two fold - we had our own private language and it was studying in and of itself.

Our midterms were things like picking a song we liked and signing it, and to this day I still break into sign when I hear Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me and Father Figure.

Random, I know.