Ooh…that wasn’t promising…

(Zoo pictures from last week–I did promise and all…)

Okay, just to warn you, first of all, I’m going on a blue rant here–I mean, I just read my 3rd paragraph and it gives Cory a run for her money, so if you’re not comfy with that sort of thing, I’ll forgive you for not reading…I’m pissed, and I just had my 1st glass of wine in five years–no, I’m not an alcoholic off the wagon, I’ve just been pregnant and nursing and mostly I just never drink and so when I opened a bottle to marinate a steak a part of me said, what the hell? I mean, don’t people actually DRINK this shit instead of use it for London Broil rescue? Anyway, it relaxed my inhibitions and…well, I have an F-word and know how to use it.

So, back to the subject of my rant. I logged on to blogger tonight and the time lag was, well, reminiscent of my computer this whole last week at work. Not promising… in fact nothing about this week was promising…I’ve spent 3 days (I count Friday) scheduling a freaking movie right before progress reports so I can add shit in and what happens?

Well, the fucking maching DIDN’T stand up, walk out of my class rooom and shout “I’m all right, Jack, screw you all!” But it did laugh at me as it timed out every time I switched classes and the internet broke twice and…okay, the list of ways our fucking computers barfed cubits all over us is almost as long as my yarn inventory…and so I gave up. I mean…I just said, “Fuck this machine, fuck this place, fuck it all…I’ll teach my lessons but grading their work? Fuck that.” I sat up in front of the class and knit while they did seat work or watched their movie or trashed my room. (What is that? What in the fuck is up with leaving shit all over my room because, hello, I’m too busy keeping the little bas-turds from killing each other to worry about paper wads…btw? This last part? Is almost all my 6th period. My 12th grade AP class. I hope 1/2 the little shits flunk out of college–I’m pulling no karma punches w/these losers…I mean, you want to succeed? Learn some fucking manners and kiss my fat white ass.) Anyway, I’m starting to think maybe I should have had a lot more wine before I made my career decision…I could have written copy for diaper companies, I could have written copy for soda companies…hell, I probably could have written copy for the Berringer Wine company (since they’ve given me this moment of zen and all…) I could have spent my time with adults who know how not to litter the bottom of their floor like stoned parrots in a toxic-mold trapping cage. I could have made as much money as my husband. (Don’t laugh…no, wait,do laugh–he’s an engineer and I can’t add 2+2 to get 6…) At the very least I could have worked in a profession that knew how to party when the goddamned computers went down.

Well, I guess the week at work wasn’t a total wash…that sock that got stolen by the identity-theiving crackheaded asshole is now partially replaced.

Knitting–it CAN save the world. Or at least make moderately priced wine look like a bottle of something really expensive that I don’t know the name of.

(btw? Waiting for that first review to appear for BOUND is almost the end of my fingernails, my cuticles, and that little rough patch on the back of my 3rd knuckle. My author copies still haven’t arrived, so I can’t even fob it off on friends and family and beg them to read it overnight and give me a courtesy review…Please let it not suck, please let it not suck, please let it not suck, please let it not suck, it costs a fucking fortune, I’d feel really guilty if it sucked…)