FRIGGY FRIDAY

I did not want to come into work this morning. While I was lying in bed, repeatedly hitting the snooze button and finally, resetting the alarm so I could sleep later (and take a shower when I got home instead of before work...the office can handle skanky unshowered me today, damn it), I had a feeling I should just stay home. I was tired as hell for whatever reason, and I was thinking about how later on today we need to take my car in to get new tires and an oil change, yadda yadda... point is, I didn't want to go. And I didn't have a really great reason. Just wanted to be home.

I got up, though, and got dressed like a good unwashed person, and let the dogs out. When I was getting ready to eat my breakfast, I noticed something awful. Whenever I used the kitchen faucet, a fine spray of water was fanning down from the top of our windowsill over the sink. It was dripping out of the wall, getting my ugly houseplant on the sill all wet and making a general mess. Ohhhhh, great.

Plumbing problems. DAMN IT.

I couldn't bring myself to wake G up just to tell him we had a bit of a water crisis out in the kitchen. I wouldn't want to be woken up from a peaceful sleep with that sort of thing. So I wrote him a long note and told him I can come home later if he needs help fixing it or can get a plumber to come out. I'm just pissed off that this has to happen, right now. It's already "let's pay a lot for new tires" weekend and everything, and his birthday and Christmas are right around the corner. Plus, Malcolm is filthy this morning. Yeah, that seems trivial -- but it annoyed the hell out of me that when I picked him up this morning after he was outside, he had mud all over his belly like he'd laid down in something out in the yard. He needed a bath, but since I really can only wash him in the kitchen sink, an emergency bath wasn't an option. So he got a paper-towel bath and a scowl/ bitch session from me before I had to leave and come in to get a few work things accomplished.

Tonight is G's company holiday party. It's at the same swanky resort it was held last year, and we need to dress up a bit. I don't know what that's going to mean for me, right now. I have some dresses, and nice skirts with cute dressy cardigans and stuff, but I honestly don't know what I will end up wearing to this thing. Last year, there were women there in prom dresses. I swear. Some even had Prom Hair. Prom Hair on adults just makes me sad. It makes me think of pitiful attempts at being cool for a night; women who had crappy proms and because now they were promoted to Office Manager, they are a success in their minds and therefore this new night to dress up and be pretty will kind of make up for their shitty pasts. It never does, nor can it. Prom is Prom. It's a night engineered to spawn unabashed teenaged bullshit. And you are supposed to be awkward and deal with emotional dramas at your real Prom. Corporate holiday parties are for getting drunk and eating a free meal, and leaving as soon as you can afterwards. Simple, down and dirty. These parties do NOT require a hair and nail appointment. Or, god forbid, a corsage. I will openly point and laugh like a mean girl if I see anyone wearing one of those tonight. I will.

So, Prom Hair Ladies...get over it. This ain't prom. It was decades ago. Be a real woman, for Christ's sake, and dress like a normal person and go drink with your cool co-workers, avoid the people you don't like, smile wanly at the boss, sit around bullshitting, and, I don't know, swipe the centerpieces. (I wouldn't know anything about swiping holiday party centerpieces, nope...especially not centerpieces that look like, umm, mardi gras masks and what-not...nooooo.)

Well, here's to Friday. It is still the weekend, and we do still get a free meal tonight. So it's not all bad. I just wish to hell water wasn't dripping out of the windowsill in my kitchen, and my car magically acquired brand new tires. That were free. And that Malcolm lived in a little plastic hamster ball that kept him from being a filthy mofo. That's the Friday I want today.

It's not even 9 yet, and I want a beer. Make it a High Life. The champagne of beers. I want a beer buzz. This can't bode well for the rest of the day. Then again, boozy Lisa could bode very well, and quit bitching to the internets for five freaking minutes. So, bring on the cheap beers! And big carb-heavy sammiches, for that matter. Nomnomnom!