Target Practice

Heh... interesting day for repelling humanity; electronic and otherwise.

Made a random email comment to group at work about an amusing spam which resulted in my being bombarded by a genuine troll - my first! After several volleys very-nearly-nasty comments from the troll I recommended he take a laxative and chill. Astoundingly, he agreed a laxative for himself might be indicated. I wonder if that got him off in manner of a sicko?

Then after work this evening, discovered a note on my car, chastising me for using up THREE (yes, you heard it here - THREE) parking spaces I was informed, that might have been used by other cars had I not mis-parked.

Stared at my Honda; stared at the parking space.

THREE spaces?

This morning I had been a hurry to abandon car & leap onto the shuttle bus, and yes, it was pitch dark so could not easily see faded white lines and to ramble on, this morning I did not perform the cleverest of my parking efforts, but honestly! The notewriter had taken a bit of imagination to credit me with a three full parking spaces. And come to that, the parking lot is at best only 1/2 full on a busy day and just prior to Thanksgiving the lot is barely 1/4 full so no one was expelled from the lot by my mis-parking adventure.

Must conclude that today I was broadly mistaken as having a large target glued to my forehead.

#@$%!

Rats. Saturday night Oliver!, the second play in my season ticket for the Davis Musical Theater Company. My play-buddy Cornetta had an emergency so couldn't attend. I found myself musing over who to invite to use up the un-partnered ticket. I attempted to invite musical loving buddies that being Mommy Nancy and Karen, but neither were available. I went to Oliver! solo.

Tonight was the first play for my season's ticket to the Davis Musical Theater Company. I love the Davis Theater. The actors are engaged from volunteers in the Davis community so it is like unto that box of chocolates Forest Gump carries on about, i.e., you never know what you're going to get.

What I got was Bumble, Mrs Bumble, Artful Dodger and Fagin as polished singers with, I am sure, as much singing voice, projection, humour and moxie as in any divas Broadway. The lead, Oliver, was an appropriately rail thin 13-year old with a sweet voice that could blend in nicely with any choir boy of the Austrian Boy's choir.

To the reverse, the very white-bread gentleman who played Mr Brownlow would have been out of his league if he was in a non-speaking role of a kindergarten class's rendition of The Little Engine that Couldn't Could (not if you tied it up with a freakn' bow).

Suffice to say the play was enjoyable and ditto to say it would have been more fun if I had a buddy to chat for the occastion, which brings me to why I'm blaspheming up a storm here - $#%#!!!!

Sunday night buddy-Jeannie called me to chat. She often as not rings me up to provide her with someone to chat with while she has a last smoke in her garage. Sunday night she called and as I told her about Oliver! it hit me - why hadn't I thought to invite her!

Ok, I know good and well why not. Jeannie has never been to a play or musical in her life, unless you count any school productions she may have been forced attend (tied to her chair, no doubt). I've longed to drag her off to the theater for ages. Saturday night would have been the ideal time haul her to Davis and expose her to her very first musical.

Honestly, I could just drop kick myself from here to Broadway. Had Jeannie gone to Oliver! and found herself enjoying the musical that would have been nice. But - even had she hated it - we'd have had a ball fighting over how lame it was/was not. There is no way we would have not had a great deal of fun.

Last Precious Hours of Freedom via 4-day Mini-retirement

9:51

Got up, put laundry in and mused in dejected manner that I have to fly to San Diego tomorrow for a work thingie on Wednesday. Don't want to go anywhere, want to stay home. Yes, cry me a river Claire.

Decided to do something different for breakfast - instead of eggs or cheese/fruit, decided to finally cook up a pot of steel cut oats. Have no clue why steel cut is better than rolled. If I had a choose between the two for myself, I'd rather be rolled than cut via steel. Ouch.

Put new pot on stove to bring water to a boil. Nose twitched - what is that funny odor? EEEEK! It was the paper label glued to the bottom of the spanking new pot. Ashes & smoke everywhere.
No bother! Paper burned away so no real harm done, didn't even take pot off stove. Stirred in oatmeal - when thickened put lid on. Five minutes pass. EEEEEK! Oatmeal boiled up and spackled surface of stove burner. Blast. Steel cut oatmeal had better fecking taste like the food of the gods is all I have to say. *fumes*

10:00 AM

Sat down with wholesome oatmeal, turned on The Wind and the Lion, an old epic featuring Sean Connery & Candice Bergan. Love the old movie. Love Sean Connery then, now. Oatmeal = yum.

11:30 AM

Took off to Curves for 2nd visit of the week. I require three visits per week. Will go again on Thursday. The routine already feels obligatory; and that is a good thing.

2:00 PM

Back from Curves. Collapsed on couch. Slept like the dead.

4:15 PM

Time to do laundry & pack for trip to San Diego.

8:45 PM

Bags are packed. Ready to go.

It is amazing how easy it was to go for a gym workout if you haven't spent the previous 8-9 hours sitting at a desk and haven't spent 2 hours of the day commuting. Not so amazing it is fun to be done with the exercising to come home and collapse on the couch.

Mini-retirement was a success. Tomorrow it is back to the real world. Drat.