Sassy Black Friend

Vacation planning full speed ahead

I think I’ve mentioned that the boyfriend and I are planning a trip over the holidays. A short vacation for just the two of us. There was talk about a cruise, a drunken Real World marathon that lead to almost booking a reservation at a Cancun hotel, and a quickly abandoned conversation about a road trip.

Right now we’re leaning towards Jamaica. Found some great deals and beautiful places. Plus flights aren’t too expensive. Read more »

Gotta love them

My clients, that is. Today I’m spending the afternoon listening to music, trying to help find songs for an event. And getting paid for it. Good stuff. I was nervous about broadening the services I offer, but so far it has been great. Sure, I’m learning more about appetite suppressant pills that I might have expected ( as you ma have noticed from previous posts), but it’s all good.

J spent weeks trying to convince me that this would work, and I’m glad to see she was right.

Remember folks, change can be a good thing. And taking a risk is exhilarating.

My new nemesis

Is our house. I love it, but the shiny newness is wearing off and being replaced by wariness and a some loathing. Much as I enjoy having more space and fun projects to do, there’s always something to do. The boyfriend and I are always buying something, reading something, or planning for something. As useful as information about HAVC filters is, not something I really want to care about.

Right now I’m trying to figure out if we need a new back door. The contractor who did all the work on this house says yes, but I’m not sure if I agree. And then I wonder why I care. I got sucked in.

The price

So, it seems the price of having such a good time last week, and all summer is coming up now. I’ve been working 10-14 hour days all week. And I don’t care for it. The boyfriend and I are saving for a vacation, so all these hours will help, but I’m a little miserable.

So, instead of hanging out with friends tonight, I’m catching up on emails and going to bed early so I can work tomorrow. One of my clients just lost a bunch of staff, and their new site is launching soon. So, the project manager, designer and I are pitching in to help with some last minute things. One the schedule for tomorrow is some submitting to a site directory or 50, image editing for a slideshow, and some content loading.

Good times.

Wha-huh?

I was just informed by Little Sister that she and her coworkers have found “the most amazing hair growth” goo or something. There was ranting, hand waving and some minor drooling. Kids.

Anyway, it’s something called Megatek, and they sell it for horses. Yes, for real. I don’t get it. I’m not a big beauty product person, I prefer to spend my time and money on important things like cheese and wine. And more wine.

So, if you’re in a farm animal/horse/cattle supplies store anytime soon, and want to grow a long supple mane, give it a shot. Whinny back if you like it.

Funny, funny, funny…

Found this today while doing some research for some previously mentioned things, the ultra 90 review and whatnot:

The Losing Game

I’ve got to lose a kilogram
Me buttonholes are stretching
And when I bend down in me shorts
Me rear end aint so fetching
But morning tea is on the go,
A creamy lemon sponge
And Easter eggs are in the shops
Next week I’ll take the plunge.

I’ve got to lose 2 kilograms
Me zipper’s lost its zip
Me jeans feel like steel corsets
And won’t pull past me hips.
But there’s a birthday celebration
With chips, pav and cheese platter
So I’ll just have a tiny smidge
And watch me waist get fatter.

I HAVE to lose 3 kilograms
Me swim togs straps feel shorter
They “cut” and I can’t stand up straight
So I avoid the water.
With all the Christmas barbecues
Held at the beach or pool
I hide behind the snags and grog
And pile on kilojoules.

I will not think about my weight
The shops are full of holly
I’ll “HO HO HO” and stir the cake
And try to act all jolly
So push the thin jeans to the back
And put on my “fat” gear
I HAVE to lose some kilograms
Perhaps I’ll start next year.

Copyright; Tess Rowley