Lately I’ve been on-loan to another team at my job. Things are going well in the sense that I’m appreciated, they like the way I think, and they value my input. Things aren’t going well in that they want me to attend two meetings per day and read through 106 emails per week.

If there are two work-type things I most don’t enjoy, those are they.

(I take that back. Those are numbers 2 and 3 behind filling out my actuals, detailing how many hours I spent on each project.)

Anyway, during minute 64 of my 30-minute meeting, my brother’s dog started doing his “I really need to take a leak” dance. I was on a blog hiatus when I learned the unfortunate events that occur when said dance is ignored (or in my case then, misinterpreted), so I can’t reference back to that story.

That being said, I took ol’ Maxwell’s sidesteps seriously and opened the door for him. Instead of high-tailing it (har har) to a nearby bush and returning to the house, the fucker just took off.

I’m in a meeting with some important person trying to talk through our pagination and grouping options, so I’m not much help in doing, well, anything to prevent the 67 pounds of dust and fur from doing whatever he wants to do.

Le sigh.

I resign myself to finishing out my meeting and then searching for the flea bag.

Those who know me in real life or via Facebook know that I’m now the owner of a shiny, new SUV. It’s really, really nice, and I keep it really, really clean. I even have Airwick clip-on things to make my car smell like dryer sheets.

In sum, there’s no way I’m letting that sack of shed in my new whip.

I rummaged through the collection of keys for the Keena fleet, coming up with the key for the only non-nice car we’ve got: my brother’s truck. (He’s currently driving my dad’s truck around school while some routine maintenance is performed on what he affectionately (and facetiously) calls his Black Beauty.)

The thing with my brother’s truck is… well, it’s been driven by a young man in his early 20s. It smells like boy. My above-mentioned Airwick clips have nothing on the salty scent that wafts when you merely crack open the door.

So with the windows open and my head hanging out, I took ol’ Black Beauty in search of that nasty beast.

I searched. And I searched. And I searched.

That asshole dog was nowhere to be found.

Because there was nothing more for me to do and I knew I’d get my ass chewed by my maa for losing the geriatric hound, I went and ate crab legs with my sister.

(In one short week back in Houston, I have clearly reverted back to being 15.)

Mid-way through our butter-dipped friends of the Alaskan variety, I got a text from my dad saying it was safe to go home since the dog was found.

And where was he, as my mom made a single lap in Black Beauty?

One goddamn street over, playing with some puppies!

No matter how frustrating it was to worry about said dog (Did I mention that he’s ten years old? And half-deaf? And possibly half-blind?) and circle the ‘hood over and over, I’m glad he’s safe.

Now, if he’d quit farting while lying next to me, we’d be even better.

As can be expected, things aren’t going so hot here. I mean, yeah, I’m fine. I have my health. I have my monies protected. I’m surrounded by good friends. I’m gonna make it. Blah blah blah.

But much like a pregnant woman viewing a commercial for dryer sheets, I’m prone to inappropriate bouts of tears. Being the sort of person with little emotional reaction to, well, anything, it’s getting rather annoying. Damn these human-esque traits!

And because emotional instability is THE BEST time to make major decisions, I just put in an application on an apartment in a city far, far away.

I’m not giving the details quite yet, but it’s along the lines of my big ol’ move to Chicago where I essentially know no one, have no set plans, and am just gonna show up, move into an apartment, and go from there.

Unlike my move to Chicago, it won’t be seven degrees outside:

Also unlike Chicago, I am employed this time with the work-from-home gig I’ve held for six years. I won’t have the freedom to wander nearly as much, but right now I’d rather the money to eat sushi than the time to find sushi places to look into and think about one day eating within.

I put in an application for an apartment in a decent area where I can walk to a few things, park my car without issue, and not have to carry mace everywhere I go. The place also has granite counters, so hopefully that correctly indicates that it’s not a flop house. Add to it that I’m also glad to see a 24 Hour Fitness gym down the way and an easily accessible Wells Fargo bank branch, and you have no doubt that I’m a bona fide adult.

Having moved four times this year (oh wanderlust!), I’ve got things down to a minimum. And by that, I mean that all of my personal effects fit into two boxes, a gym bag, and a suitcase. (My move to Chicago in August included one extra box, so yay me for pairing it down even more!)

My next move will be into an unadorned home where no one else currently resides, so I now have to consider things like dishes, linens, and that really good-smelling spray cleaner you can buy from Target.

Now that I’m in a location with enough space to pack my items in a manner I find acceptable (hurriedly moving out of one’s home via trash bags in seven minutes flat does not bode well for organization), I’m shopping for said items with hopes that settling into my new home doesn’t require multiple excursions to Target — no matter how much I like their cleaning supplies.

from R. S.
to anonymous@craigslist.org
subject Best Ad I’ve Read

Hi!

Unquestionably, yours is the best ad I’ve read on cl. You sound like the perfect person I’m seeking.

Drum roll…..

but I’m married.

Gasp.

Lacking a mental and physical connection with my mate, but unable to leave, I am seeking to fill a void in my life. If you’re not interested in getting involved, I completely understand. If you’re still reading:

37, wm, 5′9″, 168#, good looking, highly educated professional (who is important at work ) respectful, sane, ddf, clean, great sense of humor.

I have a face pic if you’re still reading…

from Jo
to R. S.
subject Re: Best Ad I’ve Read

And here’s a CL Best-of written just for you!

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/187640237.html

…to live with the man I love.

It was real, and it was perfect. And there’s really no feeling like being enveloped in someone’s arms when everything feels so right.

There’s also no feeling quite like the one where you see something wrong, seek and gain confirmation that your eyes aren’t playing tricks, and then you get the fuck outta there.

So now I’m living in a friend’s second bedroom, out of the garbage bags I used to move hastily out of what we considered ‘our home’ for a whopping week and a half.

I’d love to vent my frustrations, but I’ll save it for another time when I can provide links to ward away any threats of libel.

After all, one can’t be sued for defamation of character when everything said is 100% true.

And, really. That’s that.

When your work involves anything to do with writing computer manuals, you know work’s going to be like scraping your brain with sandpaper. I accept the boredom as inevitable, and appreciate that I’m good at what I do, people mostly leave me alone, and I get paid like a pimp.

Taking those positives, I long ago got used to the constant tscht-tscht against my grey matter.

We’re currently fixing everything that’s wrong with a web site, and my to-do list has gotten out of hand. My boss offered to take about 20 of my 150+ items, so I happily assigned them to her. Mid-way through her fixes, I got an IM:

[16:14] SheBoss: I’m about half-way through the SIRs you gave me, and I have a new appreciation for how boring your job can be.

Kickass.

Not too long ago my nephew announced that God visited him on the playground.

I know some of you just gave that an, “Awww.” I, however, am of the opposite opinion.

Perhaps it’s my being in the South, but I’m now seeing way too much of religion geared toward children that mimics the way Sesame Street hammers the ABCs into their little heads.

Indoctrination via song and story is still indoctrination, and it very much raises my radar when it comes to protecting those kids.

I understand that kids at the boy’s age are coming to grips with the realities of a scary world.

Pets and grandparents die. People lie. Others cheat, steal, and take other unsavory actions.

Their little brains process this world and naturally seek an explanation. For example, child abuse isn’t something the kids can comprehend, but punishment is. And knowing that someone who hurts kids is being dealt with by the biggest and baddest boss out there brings some comfort. It doesn’t explain the actual issue, but it does pacify the need for there to be some right to this wrong.

Since they’ve started attending church, they have been making comments that throw me. Most uncomfortably is that any cross is “where Jesus died”. And, by the way, “Why are there so many crosses on the side of the road?”

Anyway, my anti-indoctrination for kids spiel aside, the kid said something rather funny.

After exclaiming that God visited him on the playground that afternoon, we asked what God had to say.

“God says, ‘Two thumbs up!’”

My convictions aside, it’s hard to argue with that.

[09:38] Me: I have this urge to say nice things to you
[09:38] Me: I must be ovulating

Am I the only one who has a problem with Edible Arrangements? These franchises are popping up all over the place, and they just piss me off. I acknowledge that it’s one of my irrational angers, but I just don’t get it.

They’re bringing fruit. That looks like flowers. To your office.

It’s worse than a stupid cookie-gram.

Sixty dollars! For fruit!

If I’m spending $60 on fruit, it had better be at least four 750ml bottles and fermented.

Other things I irrationally dislike:

Those caveman Geico commercials. Going to concerts. People who use big words to sound smarter. Fanta. Back rubs that don’t involve the Thumbs of Death. Insincere compliments. People who make noise when they kiss. Inconsiderate drivers. Whiskey. Later finding out that he’s got a girlfriend. Dogs. Cheap shoes. Thoughtless presents. Sarah Palin. Unscented candles. Horses. Slow walkers. People who snap their gum. The color green. Bowling, no matter how much I drink. People who can’t take a goddamn joke. People who get pissy when I say goddamn. Being touched on the face. Anything peach-flavored.

#1 hit for jaded men on Google.

When I first got to Texas, it looked like I was going to inherit my sister’s current vehicle, providing her with another that I purchased. I took the initiative to put new tires on what was about to be my car. Things never quite settled on the vehicle swap. I got over it, knowing that the $400 for tires was needed. That was that.

Well, not too long ago, my sister was driving home with the kids when her tire — I kid you not — exploded. A couple of farm kids stopped to assist the single mother on the side of the road at midnight, busting a u-turn to check on her when they heard the blast.

The next day she went to Discount Tire to have them make good on the full warranty, and she was driving off without hassle a mere hour later.

Kudos to the company for their service. I feel it’s safe to say that God also gives them two thumbs up.