Lovey came in to work late on Tuesday, all sick and stuff. She left early. She still had time to get me sick unfortunately. And since half the group is out I can't come in late or leave early or anything like that. So, I'm pouting today. Be very grateful you don't work near me. Because the pout, she is fearful.
Staples has moved in around the corner. It's not good. Not good at all. I'm an office supply whore and cannot resist the call of pens and paper and colored paperclips (who the hell needs colored paperclips, really). I went yesterday and got blank CDs and 100 jewel cases and pages for printing CD labels and coin wrappers and even got a staples saver card or something so I can collect points. And some folder things. I went in to get a CD mailer to send Ed's Shirt photos to the awesome webpage creating Fishboy. That's all I went to get. And I did get some. But dang! I need help. Therapy of some sort. Do they offer group therapy for this disease?
My iPod is back and better than ever and I'd be really happy about it if I wasn't so sick. Okay, I'm actually still really happy about it but I am not energetic enough to show that yet. But I will. Don't worry.
And I've finally taken some time off from Ed's Shirt to focus a little more on Birthday Week. No one seems to want to root for the Yankees with me on the 11th so I might be redoing the kick off event. Something else involving beer I guess. I really do hope folks show up to Birthday Week. I'm having a totally insecure paranoia moment that everyone I know thinks I'm a raging egomaniacal freakshow and will stay far away from me from June 11 - 20th. Heh. I blame the sick.
Ed's Shirt has more Friendsters than I do and I'm Ed's Shirt's freakin' manager type whatever. So depressing. A shirt is more popular than I am. You still love me more than Ed's Shirt, right Mommy?
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