Well, the "Hello Kitty" mug has not been purchased yet. My father, Pollyanna that he is, decided that I had to wash the car today...hahaha. Running it through the automatic wash at Exxon is the closest I'll get. Especially in this weather. Cold and windy is not my cup of tea.
But there was a long line of cars to the automatic wash....guess a lot of people are having trouble with excessive bird shit, now that spring's almost here. My car looked like it had some weird kind of white acne problem. It's been a couple months since the last wash. Anyway, after vacuuming out the sucker, it was another 45 minutes until we got to the automatic washer. The "premium" was was 4 bucks, and consisted of water getting sprayed on the car, some brushes scrubbing for about 30 seconds, "hot wax" (which looked suspiciously like more water), and a lot of air blowing the water beads around for the "drying" portion. If this was the "premium", I'd hate to see what the "economy" wash was. I'm betting it's just some guy coming out and throwing a bucket of water at the car.
It's spring break for me this week, for all the difference that makes. All my classes are at night, and I'm still going to work, so all this means is that I might get some sleep at night. Then I take into account the fact that the new issue comes out this week, and even that's thrown out the window.
My new tennis shoes are going mainly unused. I feel so guilty...but I hate exercising. It's boring. It's irritating. I could be reading a trashy romance novel.
I got a little petty in my opener for the ‘zine. I was truly offended that Ken had the gall to criticize me for letting Dirk write the music articles. What an asshole. If he doesn't want Dirk to write the articles, he can damn well mail them to me.
I'm trying to convince Dirk that it would be a good idea to change the format of the index on our web page. I think the current one is a little hard to read. He wants me to set up an alternate page under index2.html and let him see what I've done. Why should I? I think I'll just make a command decision, and see if he even notices it. Except then his feelings would be hurt. Maybe I'll do it his way. Dirk's a Pollyanna too, even though he'd never admit it.
But of course, my plans of getting the ‘zine out any time this week are being sabotaged by my mutinous printer. I swear, I hate the thing. It's kind of old, and the rollers will decide to be picky every once in a while. That means I have to hand-feed it paper as if it were some fucked-up mechanized baby. I've given up on the stupid thing, and am going to sleep.