Very important information for your summer trip to Amsterdam.

I can't stop laughing at this -- Meet My Pony - Taylor.

I'm lauging out loud at these Easter Cards. You will too.

The story of my life at beyond last year, Mid-Level Manager Forced To Find Out Who Isn't Flushing The Toilet. Although I didn't have to unearth the culprit. It seemed like every other day the single-seat can was closed due to overuse. And the crowd pleaser in the hall was no better, there were always people chatting in there (why, oh why do women do this?) or making animal noises by themselves (oh how I wish I were kidding).

Speaking of harrassing phone calls, Tom Mabe is the king of harrassing telemarketers, but you'll have to take my word for it since his site doesn't have ANY of his great moments on it.

Amy and I have been to Meijer more times than I can remember. Like Fred Meyer (which does not compare in my book), the store is littered with phones. When a nearby phone rings, Amy is not afraid to answer it as if she's a bona-fide Meijer employee. At which point, we laugh hysterically and move on to another department.

What people do for fun is astounding. This, coming from the same woman who once spent an entire night running around an outdoor shopping mall rearranging the bulbs on the Christmas lights on the trees. Not to mention the countless hours I spent driving around, following people or the nights Dan and I drove around shooting water guns into open car windows. Ahh, life in the suburbs.

A solid week of sleep deprivation has left me extremely tired and grumpy.

Thanks to eating an entire bag of treats yesterday, Alice spent today at the vet. When I picked her up just now, everyone at the office told me about the legendary, gigantic poop she'd just had. All I know is, she looks much lighter now. Maybe I can get some sleep tonight instead of being awakened at 2:34 am by the lovely sound of her retching.

Crashing jets is fabulously morose. Reading it brings back college and the breakups that seemed sure to end my life as I knew it (and they did, for the better, though you couldn't have told me that then).

My last 2 breakups were with Marcia. I guess we thought the first one was so much fun that we wanted to try it again. We had a fabulous summer together after the first breakup, it was the way I'd imagined it would be, which explains why it didn't last. I felt her pulling away, I get needy in about 12 hours and it was way past the deadline, but I ignored it. I was supposed to head up to her place for my day off, so I called her before I left work to let her know I was coming. The store was still open, customers were browsing but they soon faded away and I turned into the nightmare saleschick glued to the phone.

"Do you still want me to come up?" I asked. "Uh...no", she replied. "Do you want to break up with me?" "Yes". After a few minutes of controlled weeping at the store, I headed home, where she was to call me back. Why do these things take so damn long, as if stretching it out will somehow change the outcome?

After at least 2 hours on the phone at my house, I was done. Drained and tired, but resigned. All along, I'd known it wasn't going to work so it wasn't really surprised this time. I was grateful for the fun summer we'd had and more content than I wanted to be to let it go.

I kept saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. It was hot and I wanted to have my friend Bec over to drink the vodka I'd bought earlier that week and commiserate, but every time I hung up the phone, Marcia was on the other end to make sure I was "okay." I think I was more "okay" than she'd expected, and she wanted to create a stir before hanging up. I never did give her that pleasure and finally I got to call Bec. We polished off the vodka and passed out. Good thing I didn't have to work the next day.

Right now, there's a wave of breakups in the lesbians I know. While Andrea and I have our share of disagreements, the last thing I want is to be part of that wave. Breakups are no fun, I think it's way too easy to walk away from something that's working when it hits a bumpy patch these days. It's the value in knowing her better after that bumpy patch that gets me through it.

A lot of lesbians I know remain friends after they break up, the logic being that whatever connection that brought them together is still there. It makes for weird moments in get-togethers when you realize that you're the only person in the room who hasn't slept with everyone else.

The Instant Messenger is a very cool thing for communication, but it's also very good for stalking. I have a few people who I never talk to, but I watch with Sadistic Interest to see when they are, knowing that I could freak them out and make them log off in an instant by sending them a message. The Internet does give you power, I'm just not sure it's a very sane kind of power.

I had no idea that the Iron Chef had a website. I guess that's because it's not officially his. Amy and I had a fine inebriated nite where I swore that the close ups of the finished products were actually the PIP feature of my TV gone awry. Later, I was forced to hang out with these people's kids since at 27 I'm not old enough to be considered worthy of grown-up conversation but I'm certainly too old to hang out with the 10 and 15 year old kids that were there. So we turned the kids on to the Iron Chef, we were all cracking up when one of the "grownups" came in and said that he loved this show, although I think he took it seriously while we were laughing our asses off at the poor voice overs.

All of a sudden, I don't care. Don't want to read my email, don't want to blog, just want to stew in whatever I think is wrong with my life.

The image captured on this lovely tv is hilarious.

Alice is at work with me this afternoon (well, I guess it's night now) She got into a bag of doggie treats, leaving her with an extremely bloated not to mention uncomfortable and huge belly.

I also took a nifty shot of my mousepad today.

My former employer, Welcome to Clip2, has redesigned yet again. Bottom line -- you can make it look pretty but that doesn't matter if your product doesn't make any sense.

Glad to see that some states understand that being gay isn't too different from being straight. I know, maybe you're thinking, yes it is, but let me assure you, aside from the obvious physical differences, the same things apply. Love, taxes, money, cleanliness, who has the remote. It's just life.

Sometimes I forget how cool the web is but then I'm able to chat online with my mom, 3,000 miles from here and I remember, the web is cool. It brings us together in ways we'd never imagined.

This is just plain funny.

Memo from our HR person today that was too good to ignore:

THERE WILL BE SOME WORK DONE TO THE CEILING IN THE COMPUTER ROOM TODAY BETWEEN 3:00 - 4:00 THAT MAY SOUND LIKE MUFFLED GUN SHOTS. PLEASE DO NOT GET ALARMED.

THX

We saw 28 days last night. Reviews I'd read said that I shouldn't expect much, maybe that's why I was pleasantly surprised. Essentially, it's a much funnier way to seize the day than Dead Poets Society offered. Thumbs up.

Even though we can hardly afford it, we're headed to Disneyland for a weekend soon. For me, half the fun is in the planning so I'm wrapped up in reservation mania right now.

Last night a snail made it's way into our living room. I came down and there was the tell-tale trail of snail goo from the patio door all the way to my favorite pillow. Naturally, my first reaction was what the hell did the dogs do but I soon figured it out. Weird.

Finally, INS to remove Elian from Miami home, and no shit "Doctor says Elian 'horrendously exploited' by U.S. relatives".

Lately, my job has included a lot of work in PowerPoint, which some may argue is a big waste of time as an application. And yet my skills in this medium (my current boss has forced me to view this tool as a medium, she makes slides for EVERYTHING, it's just how she communicates) are improving. Given the stock market's current downward spiral, it's inevitable that the skills I'm gaining on this project will make their way to my resume, perhaps someday they'll even get me a job. Does that mean I've sold out to the dark side or that I'm just trying to keep that competetive edge? For now, I'll call it keeping the edge.

Thank God. John Schneider has a webpage.

Proof of the unintentional mullet.

Yes, it's true. I changed the name again. Why? Because I noticed this morning that my once finely-shaped hairdo has become a mullet. I'm trying to grow it out for reasons I can't explain (I mean really, I'm not that girlie anymore, and long hair gets in the way during sex, if memory serves) and along this path to longer follicles, I have sprouted a mullet complete with Dorothy Hamill-esque wings. I'm due for a haircut next month (I think) and I'll emphatically demand that this mullet be removed while I'm there.

Andrea's home sick from work today. She's got a sore throat and had a fever all weekend. Which means that she's sick enough to stay home but not to sick to stay off-line or to prevent her from calling me every 5 minutes. This also means that every one of our friends who work with her are IM'ing me to see if she's okay.

Everyone, Andrea is okay. She'll be back at work tomorrow.