Hit and run post

Thoughts:

-Why are storefront Chinese food places always so damned UNWELCOMING inside? Went to one the other night that had a good review or two. It was a mistake to believe the reviews, because not only must China Delight mean "overly sweet and not at all hot kung pao chicken" in the native Mandarin, but the owners' idea of decoration is a single China Tourism poster and approximately 400 square feet of dirty linoleum floor. Won't be going back there again. I've never had kung pao that was breaded and deep fried, there were NO PEPPERS in it, the syrup it was bathed in formed candy-floss like drips, the fried rice was stale, and the atmosphere was conducive to bouts of 'enhanced questioning' by certain secret agent societies but not so much to fine (or even middling) dining. Not even the quart of wonton soup for 2 bucks can save them...the wonton wrappers are thick and the stuffing is tough.

-Is it so wrong that I was excited to get gas for $3.77 a gallon this morning?

-Came into the office today for the sole purpose of having a F2F meeting with the boss to catch up on project work. You win a prize if your first thought was "I'll just bet the meeting is on Friday, and Tiff got dressed up for no reason at all today." Hot hoppin' crackers, y'all, I was a day EARLY.

-The housecat is full of hate right now. It was bad enough that she has to get dosed up with Clavinox twice a day, but now there's DOG watching her indignity, and that? Is the worst. On the plus side, her look of indignity whilst being grasped for the pilling is hysterical.

-The BFS (boobfartsex) story from yesterday = true. Do I know how to pick 'em, or what? :)

-The Things had a doctor appointment yesterday. Their Dad told me doc said to be prepared for Thing 2 to hit nearly 7 feet tall when fully grown. In response to this news, I am researching anti-growth-hormone treatments right NOW, because that? Is too tall. Kid is 11 and already almost as tall as me, his feet are way bigger than mine, and I'm thinking that that's about enough of that kind of action. I'm in no mood to have the next Robert Wadlow living in the Tiny House; he'd be decapitated by the ceiling fans!

-The dog knows how to get through the baby gate installed between the kitchen and living room of the TH. I think she sprouts opposable thumbs while we're away. She's not smart enough to figure out how to get back INTO the kitchen (and thus, to the bathroom, where her water bowl is), but it's only a matter of time. That being as it may, the baby gate is no longer in employ; what's the use? If she figures out how to get back IN, then the front door latch is only a matter of time, and I can't have that.

-And that, my friends, is a driveby post, full of the things that are in my noggin right now. I wish you all good things for your Thursday, a peaceful evening, and dreams that do NOT include the spectre of leading a group of about 50 young kids on a church trip to a narrow peninsula in an ocean about to be overcome with a raging sea storm. The peninsula, should you need to know, is only about as wide as a 2-lane road, there are no guardrails, the cars on the road are being swept out to sea by massive waves that are crashing onto the road or are being blown ass-end-up onto their backs and into oncoming cars (complete freaking mayhem!), while the kids you're supposed to be guarding spill out of the cars that are carrying them, only to pitch themselves headlong into the ocean. That fact that one of the pitching children happens to be your oldest child is a terrifying bonus.

Those kinds of dreams, my friends, you can leave to me. I seem to specialize in the horrific. Sometimes I hate my brain.