Metal Mounds

Most of my friends already know this,
but I'll put the warning out now ...

If you email me,
talk to me,
write me,
text me,
FaceBook me ...

You're going to end up on my blog.
Especially if it's funny.

BJ never lets me down.

Yesterday she sent me an email:

I went to La Vie en Rose
for a new bra
and saw the new
magnetic bras they have for sale.

The saleslady talked me into trying one on
and said that if I get a bra fitting,
I'd get 10 bucks off it

(lady, you want to touch these for ten dollars,
go for it.
Ten bucks is ten bucks, right?)

Oh my goodness, it is the most comfortable bra ever.
Ever.
Seriously.

Now, granted, my little saggy A-cups
are not asking a WHOLE LOT from the magnet,
but it is such a strong little magnet,
I'm surprised that watches aren't flying off people's wrists
and attaching to my chest.

It is AWESOME.

Of course,
I had to reply:

You know ...
I would have felt you up for free.
Then again ... Ten bucks is ten bucks.
I'm not proud.
I'll take the money.


Considering she sent that email at 9 am,
and I'd already rebooted my computer four times,
I really needed that laugh.

If my computer goes flying off my desk,
at least I can say it wasn't me ...
it was BJ's boobs.

(Note:
For the record, my total
reboot count yesterday was 13.)

Make it a Double

I have a date tonight. With BJ. We're going for drinks after work. Haven't seen her in ages and I really need some girl time. Just sit around, drink some Guinness, criticize the other women in the pub and generally bitch about stuff.

I need this on so many levels. But this morning was the last straw. Let me just say: Camel. Back. Broken.

I was walking out the door and I realized I wasn't wearing my watch. "Two seconds!" I yell to The Husband, who's getting in the car. I run back inside, up the stairs to the bedroom and expect to see my watch on my dresser. Nope. Run to the den expecting to see it on the coffee table. Nope. Back downstairs to the kitchen and expect to see it on the table. Nope.

Damn! I don't have time to quest for the watch, so I run out to the car.

I know it's a small thing, but I absolutely HATE when I forget my watch. Now I'll need to know what time it is every 10 minutes. Grrrr!

I texted BJ from the GO Train platform. "Still on for today? I need an effin drink. And its only 7:15!"

My GO Train Buddy shows up while I'm texting. He has his grumpy face on. I give him grumpy face back. "Dude, don't even start with me today. I forgot my watch, I'm in a shitty mood." Which, of course, gets us rolling into our usual morning routine of one-upping the other with comments.

As we're pulling into Union Station, he glances at his watch. The natural reflex is for me to flip my wrist and look at my ... what? Arm hair? Freckles??

I drop my hand on my lap and give him the "This is going to be one of those days" looks.

He grins and mutters "Ha Ha!"

Nice.

BJ ... we're still on for drinks right? Can we go NOW??!