Apparently I'm the only Bill Nighy fan I know.

Or else every one of you is a Bob Dylan fan and now categorically hates me for making fun of him.

Hey, I SAID I was sorry!

I have been a giant ball of stress lately. I still am, in fact, which is in part contributing to the lack of posting this week, right after I was starting to get in a groove of boring you all with my day-to-day life again. It's just difficult to write a coherent post when you've got Tourette's of the brain and you're scared to type anything because the pent-up stress might escape and take over your hands for a moment and post some ranting raving crap that will offend anyone who even has my blog in their feed reader, regardless of whether or not they've actually read the post.

Ugh. The Whistler just adjusted his pants in my line of sight. Why can he never do that shit while he's facing into the corner? How many times do I have to deal with the potential sight of his underwear before I just go blind from the fact that my eyes refuse to take the chance any more? It could be worse though. Yesterday he was talking to the new guy in the department (he's been working for me for like a year, but he's still the new guy), and he got excited about something, and spit flew out of his mouth and landed on the poor guy's lip. ON HIS LIP, people. He told me he washed it three times, but he still felt like he needed a shower. I don't blame him.

I hate this damn place sometimes.

The mantra for today is "Thank God it's Friday". We've got a busy weekend ahead of us, considering that it's Andy's birthday on Sunday and we've still got quite a bit to do to get ready for it, but at least I won't be here. And in two weeks I get an entire week off. We're not going anywhere because Andy will be in school, but again, I won't be here. That's the important part.

Friday.. Friday.. Friday...... ommmmmmmmmm