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Stinky Hat Lady

My email reduction campaign is failing miserably. As is my ability to keep new projects and tasks off of my desk. Stupid "can-do" attitude. Bleh. You wanna know where that get's you, kiddies? It get's you a spot in your office until late in the freakin' evening. Super bleh.

Last night, The Boy and I went to a local pub for a bit of chow. I'm not overly impressed with the place we went, but will go back there a million times for one item on their menu... Canadian Fries. The recipe, in case you are wanting to know, is to drench regular french fries in thin brown gravy. I'm pretty sure all of you Atkin's freaks will have to avoid this particular delicacy, but it is your loss. Sooooo good.

At lunch, Taerna and I went to a store on the Plaza to find a couple of gifts we've been needing to pick up. We made the mistake of walking into one of those perfume/candle specialty stink shops. The woman in that store has ruined my day. Recently, The Boy and I spent way too much time in the perfume section of a department store selecting my new scent. I happen to be wearing that perfume today. I like it. This idiot woman lured us to the counter with new candle scents since we were the only two people in the store and therefore her only chance for a sale. She asked which kind of perfume we wear and Taerna smartly responded, "I don't wear perfume."

Having stolen the "I don't need you or your stupid product" response, I was left with NOTHING. The lady turned to me, and by the way, she was wearing a straw gardening hat in her store. IN HER STORE!!! Hate it. So the lady and her hat look at me and ask what brand of stink I wear. I named my perfume thinking that she wouldn't have a knockoff oil to sell me. And in all actuality, she didn't have my perfume. Nonetheless, she pulls a decanter full of oil off of a shelf, dips her little stink wand in it, grabs my wrist and drizzles it all over my arm like I'm some freakin' french fries and she's got a laddle full of gravy. Gravy it was not. Since lunch, I have been haunted by the smell of CKOne. I was a CKOne freak when I was 16 years old. I would douse myself in it and refuse to wash certain shirts just to be sure that people three cars away on Fe could smell me (Cruisin' Fe was the big activity in Salina). But now, the scent makes me want to gag. "And the good news," she informs me gleefully with her little apple earrings bobbing up and down, "is that my oils last much longer than store bought perfume!" No shit, Sherlock. This smell is never going away. I may have to surgically remove the skin from my wrists. DAMN YOU HAT WEARING STINK LADY!

Alright, I'd love to bitch some more, but I really need to get some work done. On Monday night, Ryan engaged in one of my favorite activites: Eli Photo Shoot. Here is one of his best shots:

5:58 p.m. - August 25, 2004

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