Dear Diary,
I won't have computer access for a while, so I have to get a few thoughts down before I forget. I'll try to elaborate later.
baby strollers = big, big problem
thanksgiving = threat to an otherwise happy marriage
gaucho style short pants with high-heeled boots = not a good look
lesbian on ANTM = best lesbian ever
confessions on a dancefloor = need it, ASAP
That's it for now.
Love, Fluffy
23.11.05
18.11.05
Well, he tried.
Dear Diary,
I will freely admit that I am a tax nerd, and I enjoy reading the tax code and doing our taxes. I get so excited when January rolls around. Anyway, lest you think there is no entertainment value in reading tax code, may I present a section from Publication 17, Miscellaneous Decuctions: Nondeductible Expenses.
Wristwatches
You cannot deduct the cost of a wristwatch, even if there is a job requirement that you know the correct time to properly perform your duties.
I am dying to know who tried to deduct a wristwatch from his taxes, and unknowingly immortalized his stupidity in Publication 17. (I suppose it could have been a woman, but somehow I doubt it.) To you, I say bravo! It was a noble attempt, and I guess someone had to try it.
Love, Fluffy
I will freely admit that I am a tax nerd, and I enjoy reading the tax code and doing our taxes. I get so excited when January rolls around. Anyway, lest you think there is no entertainment value in reading tax code, may I present a section from Publication 17, Miscellaneous Decuctions: Nondeductible Expenses.
Wristwatches
You cannot deduct the cost of a wristwatch, even if there is a job requirement that you know the correct time to properly perform your duties.
I am dying to know who tried to deduct a wristwatch from his taxes, and unknowingly immortalized his stupidity in Publication 17. (I suppose it could have been a woman, but somehow I doubt it.) To you, I say bravo! It was a noble attempt, and I guess someone had to try it.
Love, Fluffy
17.11.05
Seriously?
Dear Diary,
Oh my god, it turns out that Bob Woodward from the Washington Post knew Valerie Plame's identity even before... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Sorry, what was I saying? I fell asleep.
Lamest. Scandal. Ever.
Dear the media: Less CIA, more Tara Reid. Thanks.
Love,
Fluffy
Oh my god, it turns out that Bob Woodward from the Washington Post knew Valerie Plame's identity even before... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Sorry, what was I saying? I fell asleep.
Lamest. Scandal. Ever.
Dear the media: Less CIA, more Tara Reid. Thanks.
Love,
Fluffy
16.11.05
It's not you, it's... no wait, it IS you.
Dear Diary,
Yesterday I had to break up with my job. It went something like this:
Me: I don't think we should see each other anymore. It's just not working out.
Job: What? I'm shocked! I know I haven't had a lot of time for you lately, but you should have told me you were unhappy!
Me:
Job: Look, I know we can work this out. I can change!
Me: It's not you; it's me.
Job: I know we can work this out. Tell me what I can do to make you stay.
Me: Well, nothing, because I'm already seeing someone else.
Job: What? Oh my god, you're serious. You're really breaking up with me.
Me: Actually, it's my ex-boyfriend that I'm seeing.
Job: Ouch.
Job: But what about the free popcorn? And the dogs?
Me: You know as well as I do that we haven't had popcorn in weeks. And those dogs were cute at first, but now they stink and bark and eat out of my trashcan.
Job: I can't believe this. I don't know what went wrong.
Me: I know there's someone out there who's perfect for you. It's just not me.
So, yeah. That's how it went. You know, I dated this psycho in college briefly, and breaking up with him was very similar to this. If I recall correctly, he threw his wadded up kleenex at me. And now, since I still work here for the next two weeks, it's like we broke up but we're still living together. Wish I could go crash at a friend's place.
Love, Fluffy
Yesterday I had to break up with my job. It went something like this:
Me: I don't think we should see each other anymore. It's just not working out.
Job: What? I'm shocked! I know I haven't had a lot of time for you lately, but you should have told me you were unhappy!
Me:
Job: Look, I know we can work this out. I can change!
Me: It's not you; it's me.
Job: I know we can work this out. Tell me what I can do to make you stay.
Me: Well, nothing, because I'm already seeing someone else.
Job: What? Oh my god, you're serious. You're really breaking up with me.
Me: Actually, it's my ex-boyfriend that I'm seeing.
Job: Ouch.
Job: But what about the free popcorn? And the dogs?
Me: You know as well as I do that we haven't had popcorn in weeks. And those dogs were cute at first, but now they stink and bark and eat out of my trashcan.
Job: I can't believe this. I don't know what went wrong.
Me: I know there's someone out there who's perfect for you. It's just not me.
So, yeah. That's how it went. You know, I dated this psycho in college briefly, and breaking up with him was very similar to this. If I recall correctly, he threw his wadded up kleenex at me. And now, since I still work here for the next two weeks, it's like we broke up but we're still living together. Wish I could go crash at a friend's place.
Love, Fluffy
9.11.05
What d'you do with a drunken sailor?
Put'm in the brig until he's sober!
Diary, we are now proud owners of a lovely piano. Of course I have to learn to play sea shantys straight away. You know, for sing-alongs. And I've got to get a tip jar. And some Elton John glasses...
Love, Fluffy
Diary, we are now proud owners of a lovely piano. Of course I have to learn to play sea shantys straight away. You know, for sing-alongs. And I've got to get a tip jar. And some Elton John glasses...
Love, Fluffy
8.11.05
Irritable? Sometimes.
Things that make me irritable:
- having to fish around in my purse for things
- waiting
- messes
- sneezing
- finding cat puke
- carrying grocery bags
- my basement
- back fat (mine, not other people's)
- incompetent dentistry
Things that calm me down:
- doing crossword puzzles
- rolling spare change
- the BHE
- xanax
- having to fish around in my purse for things
- waiting
- messes
- sneezing
- finding cat puke
- carrying grocery bags
- my basement
- back fat (mine, not other people's)
- incompetent dentistry
Things that calm me down:
- doing crossword puzzles
- rolling spare change
- the BHE
- xanax
2.11.05
Spiritual White Trash
Dear Diary,
I don't know why this story gives me just a little bit of satisfaction. Maybe everything's not so perfect over there after all. It's sort of like finding out that there are in fact thousands of fat women in France, but they make them all live in seclusion. Whatever, I still want to live there.
Diary, I think we may be white trash. It's been slowly evolving. Here are the disturbing signs:
- huge pile of concrete blocks in the driveway
- barking dogs
- cigarette butts on the front porch
- smashed-up car parked in front (that's my li'l honda!)
Also, we often come home to find flyers on our porch, "Foreclosure? Lost your job and can't pay your mortgage? We'll buy your house in CASH, no questions asked!" I don't think they leave those flyers on nice-looking houses.
We're trying, Diary. Honest. But the thing is, the BHE and I have become very spiritual and are no longer concerned with our physical surroundings. Krishna Krishna, Hari Hari or whatever.
OK, not really. We're just lazy slobs.
Love,
Fluffy
I don't know why this story gives me just a little bit of satisfaction. Maybe everything's not so perfect over there after all. It's sort of like finding out that there are in fact thousands of fat women in France, but they make them all live in seclusion. Whatever, I still want to live there.
Diary, I think we may be white trash. It's been slowly evolving. Here are the disturbing signs:
- huge pile of concrete blocks in the driveway
- barking dogs
- cigarette butts on the front porch
- smashed-up car parked in front (that's my li'l honda!)
Also, we often come home to find flyers on our porch, "Foreclosure? Lost your job and can't pay your mortgage? We'll buy your house in CASH, no questions asked!" I don't think they leave those flyers on nice-looking houses.
We're trying, Diary. Honest. But the thing is, the BHE and I have become very spiritual and are no longer concerned with our physical surroundings. Krishna Krishna, Hari Hari or whatever.
OK, not really. We're just lazy slobs.
Love,
Fluffy
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