12% : newest : archive : profile : book : notes : e-mail

an inez design.
Copyright 2002-2015

Don't Say Anything At All

2006-02-17 @ 11:13 p.m.

If You Don't Have Anything Good to Say, Don't Say Anything At All

Perhaps I've taken that too literally lately as my diarylanding as been sparatic to say the least. It's not that I don't enjoy writing anymore, it's just that my work is sucking all of my creative energy out of me. It's a vortex of evil, I tell you. Okay not really.
Work is going really really well, though. Now that I've been 'assistant editor' for 8 months now, I've finally become pretty comfortable with everything in our little editing world. The building in which I work is sort of a large warehouse that was renovated a few years ago. The reception desk aka 'Beth's Year and a Half of Misery Desk' is in front of the little cave that the editing department resides. So it's kinda like we're in our own little secluded world. It's pretty fun. Definitely the best job I've ever had. As much as I HATED answering the phones for a year and a half, my plan did actually come to fruition. Anyway so now that I've somewhat proved myself to my boss and coworkers that I DO have some sort of editing/graphics abilities there has been a rumor of a raise. Which would be fantabulastical. Another word made up by Legs de Chickie. Be jealous of my awesominity.

In other kickassery news, I decided to finally get a kitten. My baby Nabisco died 9 years ago and ever since then I have wanted to replace him. I knew that it was best to wait until I moved out, finished college and had my own place. I feel that I've waited long enough, and this is the perfect time to finally adopt my new son. So last night Angel and I visited the future Keebler Legs. I can't pick him up until next Saturday so his current parents can give him all the necessary shots and stuff. Here is a (crappy) picture I took of him with my camera phone:

It almost made me cry he's so friggin cute. When I got my first cat (Nabisco) I was nine years old. My alternate name at that time was Keebler. So I always knew that I would name my next kitty that. By the way, he is a white flame point himalyian with blue eyes in case you're wondering. Basically Mr. Biggleworth before he lost his hair. Even though I'm pretty sure 'Keebler' is the name I'm sticking with, here are some alternate names I'm considering:

* Mr. Furry Little Moustache
* Professor of Cuteness Fuzzybuns
* Doctor Whiskers III, LLP
* The Organization of the Tiny Paws, Inc.

Okay some of those are riduculous. Okay all of them are. But I will insist on no nicknames. If anyone decides to come into my apartment they must greet my son with his appropriate title, or they will receive no chocolate. Which by the way, I have an obscene amount of.

For Valentine's day Angel decided to induce my inevitable adult diabetes by giving me three boxes of chocolate and 80 cadbury eggs. Yes you read that correctly. 80. You see, I love me some cadbury eggs, and I told Angel about this dream I had last week where I was in an elevator and in my jacket pocket was a bunch of cadbury eggs. Suddenly the elevator rope snapped and I fell hundreds of feet. And the only thought that was racing through my mind at the speed of the elevator was that my cadbury eggs would be smashed. I know, the horror!!

Suffice it to say, we had an craptaublous V-Day that we topped off by going to a fondue restaurant nearby, "The Melting Pot". Since then I have started my new protein diet of mostly eggs and nuts.
Of course they are all covered in chocolate. But at least I'm trying.

previous + next

6 comments so far