just a little to the left of the line between ridiculous and sad
|I have nothing to do today at work. Nothing. I hate that almost as much as when I have too much to do. So the day is going by very, very slowly.
I met up with some former coworkers last night. Most did not even know that I got knocked up, so that was fun surprising them. We met at Mongolian BBQ, a restaurant which never ceases to irk me. I mean, there is never a time when I want to pay $13 for a single bowl of crap I had to stand in line to assemble myself, wait for some sweaty rocker kid to cook, get yelled at because I put the sauce on too early and then walk back to my table to eat said slop. If I wanted to cook, I'd be home.
I understand the whole "Mongolian" concept of Soviet lines meets quasi-Asian food, but I just don't get the appeal.
Also irritating was the parking situation. It took me FIFTEEN minutes to find a spot. This is Dearborn, Michigan people. Not Manhattan. What gives? I had to park across Michigan Avenue and CROSS THE STREET. I don't think I've ever walked on Michigan Avenue before. I didn't even know it was possible to BE a pedestrian on Michigan Avenue. The problem stems from all sorts of "development". I blame this place in particular. Since when is Dearborn hip? And isn't Crave located next to Dearborn Wig and Cellular? I want my frumpy little free parking town back. There is also a place across the street from Crave that advertised as being a day spa with gynecological services. I shiver in fright.
I guess things are so bad that Dearborn will soon charge for parking. And they are building a parking structure which, being more than two stories tall, towers over downtown Dearborn. 50 cents an hour? What next? Soon they will be charging $20 admission to see the historical apple corer at the Commandant's Quarters.
I got a part-tay to go to tonight. It's a work Christmas party. Jealous? Check out the invited departments:
CORP. ACCOUNTING / FINANCE
That's right, people. Its time to party with those crazy bastards in collections. But wait, there's more! The invite that was sent out was done in Excel! A spreadsheet invitation! In all CAPS!
It's a party of such magnitude that we have each been issued a wristband. And - I'm not making this up - it says this at the bottom of the invitation: