Hello, my name is Lard Bucket

2004-08-27 - 8:17 p.m.

So today I didn't jog. Last night when I was taking out my contacts I sort of scratched my eye. I don't think I really did because it just doesn't hurt that badly, but this morning the first thing I did when my alarm went off was to rub my eye, and that hurt like hell. So instead of jogging I stayed in bed with my eyes closed. I wore my glasses all day today and I haven't had any pain, so I guess that's good.

Today was my dad's first day of work, which meant that it was my first day home alone. I really didn't want to be here. I mean, I thought I'd have a job by this time, you know? I know, I know, you're sick of hearing about that. Where's the action, you say. Where's the action?

It's Friday so my mom had a half day and we went out to Chipotle for lunch just like we used to. Yay! I dropped a piece of chicken out of my burrito into my lap, though. It was covered in reddish sauce and my pants were white and it landed pretty much right in my crotch. Lovely. Went to Costco anyway afterwards. And managed to not be self-conscious about it too.

I spent all the rest of today working on a project for my dad's classes. I was copying contact information for each of his students from the internet onto a page of cardstock paper. My dad uses those pages to keep track of each time he contacts a student's parents so that when a parent complains that he never tells them anything he can whip out the page with the proof. Anyway, I was doing all this by hand. I don't write. I type. My fingers hurt. My hand hurts. My elbow hurts. Obviously I'm putting way too much effort into this. But I'm also not done. Unfortunately, I ran out of pages before I ran out of students.

Oh wait! I almost forgot I have pictures for you! Let me go get my camera...heh heh... OK, here you go, if you're squeamish about my friends the spiders, go no farther. Picture number one is a black widow I found today in my garbage can:

And here is the same black widow after a close-up meeting with my flip-flop.