Oh, I'm a "bitch" b/c I won't lend you my cell phone? HOW ABOUT A KNUCKLE SANDWICH?
Did the test script SAY to leave the order-entry window?
Yep, I will totally respond to "Hey baby" as you pull up your zipper in the bus stop.
Mandatory minimum 24-hour waiting period before I will respond to BS emails flagged as high priority.
DON'T play in the porta-potty!
This last, I was tempted to scream out my car window as I passed three grade-school aged kids, who were occupied with tossing clods of dirt into the toilet of a porta-potty in a city Park.
I really am fed up with the panhandlers on the Corner. (Non-C'ville people, the "Corner" refers to the stretch of University Ave, adjacent to the grounds of the University of Virginia.) My office is near the Corner and there's one panhandler in particular (the one who called me a bitch) who is so aggressive, that I hesitate to walk there alone, even in the middle of a business day. It's one thing to ask someone for money, but quite another to call someone a bitch, or anticipate that she will cross the street to avoid you, and cross the street yourself so you can harass her some more. It would be so satisfying to punch this asshole in the face.
In happier news, my sister and her husband came to visit for the weekend, as did Brigid and her boyfriend. We went to the Shebeen for lunch. Afterwards, Ian and I walked to the upscale Feast to stock up on treats for drinks later. For the walk home, Ian suggested that we take a short cut by walking along the railroad tracks. ("Really, like a homeless person? Oh, what the hell.") So we scrambled down the embankment behind Feast and walked down the tracks for about a quarter of a mile, our Feast bag with the baguette sticking out contrasting with the numerous empty bottles of bottom shelf liquor that were strewn about. It was a good shortcut, although Ian cautioned me sternly never to take it by myself.
Dinner at home--I made pizza using my Jeffrey Steingarten recipe and the pizza stone, which I only use on special occasions. I had a craving for a margarita from Continental Divide, so we went there after dinner and it was surprisingly not-crowded. Then we headed to Millers to see our friend Nate who is the drummer in The Pollocks.
Thus concludes another weekend. My goals for the week ahead include a trip to the nursery for plants and, hopefully, elegant potted topiaries, and pinning down a paint color for the front hall.