That's My Bix!

For real, you guys, I think I’m becoming a workaholic. My new job actually takes up all of my brain power at all times and also, no matter how fast I work, I can never keep up, like a hamster on a wheel, but I just can’t shake the feeling that if I hit said wheel a little harder, a little faster, maybe just maybe I can get to a point where I’m caught up a little? You never catch up. You just get a faster version of “normal”.

I’m saying that because I’m sitting in a fly-infested Sbux in Appleton listening to someone try to sell investment ideas to someone else who has only now for the first time started talking in over an hour (for real, I thought the guy was talking on the phone until I glanced behind me), and it would be marginally enjoyable except that the only reason I’m here is to check into work email before going to pottery class and was relieved to see that the meeting that was scheduled between 5:30-6:30 pm tonight (!!!) has been rescheduled to tomorrow so now I have more time to catch up. And then I realized how very very wrong that was and decided to pointedly update my blog instead of working. Except that now I’m writing about work. Fuck.

(That’s why you get the above picture, because it was one of very few that happened to be on my work computer. That’s  (oh crap, I’ve forgotten his name… I suck, but one of my girls will tell me, I’m sure) our personal love slave server when we went clubbing in Vegas last month. The best part about What’sHisFace? He told me that if I saw someone in the non-VIP area of the club, I could just point him or her out and then the personnel would GO FETCH THEM for me. Just like that. So of course, I had to try it, and of course, it worked. Your stock totally goes up when you’re doing the rock star thing up righteous.)

I breezed over it, but pottery is starting up again and I’m signing up for another class. I was luke warm about the idea of giving over one of my weeknights to making mud pies, but when I reserved my spot in the class last week, afterwards I found myself actually doing a fist pump. It’s so silly that I enjoy it so much, even when you look at the misshapen lumps that I’ve been trying to foist onto my friends and family. It’s not like I’m going into the advanced class either, I’m essentially just paying the Pottery Dude money to sit in his studio and use his very expensive stuff and then get my pottery cooked in his kilns. I do this because I did the math and realized that in order to have any kind of pottery studio for myself, I’d have to invest like $5K, which is a fine thing to invest in something that I seemingly love, but I’d like to have a full year’s worth of potter-ing under my belt before I start going down the road to Crazy Craft Woman. Also, it seems a bit twisted to me that it took me ten years to finally get a first floor laundry and rescue myself from the scary basement stairs, only to create a pottery studio down there. Besides, the spiders have been left alone for months at this point, I’m sure that they’ve started a little spider city now that the bitch with the broom is leaving them alone.

Although quite honestly, this Sbux could use a few spiders. The flies, seriously, the flies. It’s not giving me warm fuzzies about the cleanliness of this joint.

God, seriously, I can’t believe it’s only been a month and a half since the Vegas rock star weekend but I’m staring on the date on that picture (June took that and her camera always has dates on it… so cute!). I think I need a vacation again. Also, apparently I have a bazillion vacation days to burn before the end of the year, since I’ve barely touched them since my sabbatical (and I came back with my motherlode of vacation intact). I may have to take a generic week off and just work on my long-ignored To Do list. I miss that stupid thing.

I gave myself half an hour to type and now it’s up. Next entry, I promise to have at least one of the following: continuity, humor, content, a picture that makes sense.