Blargh. The week, she is not improving. Lots of urgent issues that keep getting held up by problems... I semi-bitched at my manager today about having too many things on my plate that all needed attention, and that she'd have to handle some of it, and now things seem better. Actually, now is when the problems are starting, but we're all managing somehow or another. I've managed to clear off my plate, at least, and in the end, isn't that all that matters?

I also managed to find a shiny purple notebook in the cabinet at work, so I've stolen that for my own use. I'm trying to do some writing in it, but an idea that seemed like a good one a couple of days ago is not exactly going well now. ARGH. I need to get myself back in the habit of writing, and writing often; it seemed to flow better when that was what I did.

I got on the scale at the gym yesterday, and I'm still holding around 150 or just under it, which is good -- it means that either I haven't undone the good start I had, or the sugar just hasn't caught up with me yet. I think drinking diet pops only is helping out, as is not eating as many carbs as I was before. My habits may not be perfect, but I'm working to improve them -- there are certainly more veggies and fruits in my diet than before, and I want to get back to the farmer's market to pick up more fresh fruits. My fridge actually has space in it!

Which reminds me, I need to eat that cauliflower that's in there. And the other veggies. And buy more chicken. Who wants to come over for a hamburger-fest? I need to use up the 20 million tonnes of hamburger I have in my freezer... only thing is that you have to bring mustard and relish if you want it, and buns. Otherwise, I'll make 'em my way and they're tasty. :)

Today's the second day this week I've had coffee -- or, well, my version of it, which is the French vanilla cappuccino. Very healthy. Yesterday it was because I was zonked, today it's because I'm cold and I was bored.

It was weird being at the gym yesterday after drinking a bunch of coffee, 'cause as I was leaving I wound up with the caffeine and depleted muscle shakes. I ended up snarfing a bunch of Ritz crackers (first crackers I've had in weeks, aside from the wedding last week) to tide me over until dinner.

I wore one of my new outfits into work today; white camisole top with lace edging, and a past-knee-length taupe skirt with brown and white printing on it. My coworker described it as 'batik' -- I don't really know what that means, so I'll say that's what it is. Anyone in the world is smarter than me, fashion-wise; as a general rule, if I can't match it with white or black (or denim), I don't know how to match it. One of the skirts I bought has a brown band around the bottom of it, so I bought a brown t-shirt to go with it -- that way I'll have at least one thing I'll know how to match it to. I am fashion-dumb.

I also find I regularly look frumpy in things, but I think it's because I'm not comfortable wearing really snug outfits, and so many of my clothes aren't very form-fitting. I don't think GLH (girl love handles, for those of you who don't read Dan Savage) are attractive, and I endeavour not to be the girl with the belly hanging over her pants. It still happens sometimes, but if the pants do that, I try to make sure the shirt is long enough to cover it, or isn't necessarily super-snug. Although I do have some fitted tshirts, so there's where my fashion theory falls down.

Boobies.

Now that I have my male readers back...

Ah, stop whining. I'm only teasing in my generalizing. :)

For anyone who's read the "newest" orgasm study going around, I loved the line in particular that said: "women who orgasm very easily may be more likely to be satisfied with poor quality men." It's possibly true (the caveat to that is true in my case), but it's little consolation, I think. :)

Okay, weird situation. At my current phone numbers -- home phone, work cell phone and to a lesser extent, personal cell phone -- seem to collect wrong numbers, my home phone in particular. Last week I had a *very* persistent person repeatedly calling my work cell phone, who apparently just didn't believe that they could possibly be dialing wrong or have copied the number down wrong, though they never argued with me. They just kept dialing. :P

*Anyhow.* A bit of background to explain this. I used to live at 2-224 X Street. At that address, I had the phone number 999-9999. I now live on Y Street, and they made me take on a new number -- 888-8888. Follow so far?

I got a phone call for an Ian Gibson (my secret alter identity, but don't tell) to the new number. The woman identified herself (Mrs. Snotty Lady -- no first name, just Mrs. Last name), and left a reference number, and said that if the call was in error, she'd appreciate a call back. Personally, I'd appreciate if you'd stop fucking calling me, because this is the second time I've had to follow up on something like this because deep down inside somewhere I don't know about, I am a good person (TM).

So. I call the number back, and Mrs. Snotty Lady isn't around, so the guy who answered the phone asked for the reference number so he could look it up. I gave it, and the guy's name, and I said to my knowledge, he'd never lived there (I know my former neighbours very well, because they never cancelled *any* of their mail, and though I return it with "MOVED" or "NO LONGER AT THIS ADDRESS" or sometimes, to the really persistent ones, "MOVED, NO LONGER AT THIS ADDRESS, PLEASE STOP SENDING THINGS," they continue to show up... I'd write "deceased," but that would cause more problems than it would solve). The guy who was looking the info up said, "Oh yeah, Mr. Guy, at 224 X Street."

Now, first of all -- stupid to tell random stranger some other random stranger's personal information. But he doesn't have my name, so it's okay. So I say, "Okay, well, that's my old address, but I didn't have this number (888-8888, the one at which this message had been left) when I was living there."

I also wanted to follow up with, "And I was just by that apartment a week ago, and it's empty, so I don't think he lives there anymore," but I didn't. I did say that I could give the guy my old number (which used to give my current number as the one I'd transferred it to, but that would've expired on my line about 5 months ago), but that there was no guarantee that it was still the number assigned to that address. He said that he thought she was just using an old phone book.

So, there we go. Weird situation.

Secondary weird situation; I saw a lady in the hall that was a client of ours at the animal hospital. I recognized her face, and I remembered her pet, but bugger if I can remember her (although I might have, just now). I actually said something to her this time, and we chatted a bit about Otis, her chinchilla. Nice coincidence. :)

Also, I like my fake coffee. But I'm not sure it's the best thing for me, so it's not going to be a regular part of my diet. Though caffeine buzzes can be fun, I have to admit.

And finally, in comments that don't make sense to anyone: I (facetiously) suspect the spook is spying on me. T shared a link with the list about being about to tell the done-ness of your meat (hamburger, steak), by comparing it to the various stages of erection that a penis goes through. The spook cooked me a steak dinner, well-done; as I said to N, I think he's trying to tell me something. ;)