death by brochure
You know how kids with Down's Syndrome all sort of look alike, regardless of their race? I was thinking about supermodels this morning, and I think there should be some genetic investigations, because if you've ever watched those women stomping down the catwalk, you know they all look the same. Perhaps they're lacking a certain gene, or have an extra one someplace and it makes them all freakishly tall, with the same face and prepubescent body. Alls I know is, there are so few people who look like that, and they all have the same job. It's a little creepy.
I think I once mentioned that Francisco and I hide a blue stuffed dolphin (the Boy got it from somewhere) back and forth for each other to find, and Francisco is by far the best at this little sport. This morning when I was almost to work I opened the beverage holder (where I keep the card I have to swipe to get into the parking lot) and there was the dolphin. I was very surprised and amused to see it wedged in there, but I'm chagrined that I can so rarely think of good places to hide it for him to find. I'ma have to try harder.
Lately I've been drinking more water (was already drinking enough, but with water, more is more, right?) and I've achieved this by bribing myself. I bring a can of diet vanilla coke to work every day but won't let myself drink it until I've finished one 24 ounce glass of water. Then I drink another glass of water in the afternoon, and this is a gain of one 24 ounce glass. Canny, eh? Oh come on; throw me a frickin bone.
Speaking of drinking, lately Francisco has reverted back to his old ways of drinking water from a beer bottle. I can't blame him, though, because the bottle in question is a Ruddles County English Ale bottle, which is large and stylish and has a big neck. I kind of want one myself to drink from.
I finished my first draft of that cursed brochure today--it just about killed me. And I know I'll have to make a grillion changes to it before everything is said and done. I can't imagine why I agreed to take over the publications. Stupid, stupid!
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