Alright. I have some stuff I need to get off my chest.
- I’m sick of Pandora sometimes. I don’t think it’s very good at knowing what kinds of songs I like, even though I tell it all the time. On my Broadway musicals channel, it plays an awful lot of Maroon 5. That’s wrong.
- Four times this week I have wondered if our house was on fire because my neighbors have fires going in their fire pits. I love the fire pit things, and we’ve talked about getting one for ourselves, but smelling fire scares me for a second every time. I mean, I live in a neighborhood where you don’t expect to smell fire. Well, *I* don’t expect it. I guess I should learn to. It would lower my blood pressure.
- That reminds me, I don’t think it’s very nice to grill meat outside and not invite me over.
- We went to a wrap-up meeting for Relay for Life tonight. A bunch of teams were all HRMPH, YOU HOE-DOWNS DIDN’T REALLY WIN BECAUSE TONY RAISED MOST OF YOUR MONEY. But then they also suggested that they would get Tony to join their teams next year and they would win and when they said that I flipped them all off. OK, not really. But I wanted to. I kinda did it in my head, if you must know. I’m only kinda joking about that part.
- Our Relay event chairs are stepping down and they’re needing lots of new people to take on committee positions. Victor pinched me whenever I started to look like I was going to raise my hand. As much as I would love to be on the committee, I’m tied to PTO for the next two years and I know I shouldn’t take on anything else. Still, when they said that one web guy was leaving… I was tempted. I was.
- Have I mentioned that I hate cancer? I hate it especially a lot today.
- Popcorn, however, I like.
- If you ask me what I’ve been doing for the past two days, I’ll make something up that sounds more exciting than “researching PTO bylaws.” This is not one of the funner things I’ve ever done. This long-ass sentence is exactly the reason why:
The PTO shall purchase and maintain Directors’ & Officers’ Liability Insurance (D&O) on behalf of an individual against liability asserted against or incurred by the individual who is or was a director, officer, employee, or agent of the PTO, or who, while a director, officer, employee, or agent of the PTO, is or was serving at the request of the PTO as a director, officer, partner, trustee, employee, or agent of another foreign or domestic business or nonprofit corporation, partnership, joint venture, trust, employee benefit plan, or other enterprise; however, the PTO may not purchase or maintain such insurance to indemnify any director, officer, or agent of the PTO in connection with any proceeding charging improper personal benefit to the director, officer, or agent in which the director, officer, or agent was adjudged liable on the basis that personal benefit was improperly received by the director, officer, or agent.
- (I think I get lost somewhere around the first occurrence of “asserted.” Possibly “PTO.”)
- In the next couple months, the four of us will be seeing three big-deal Broadway in Portland musicals: Les Misérables, Mamma Mia, and Shrek. Betchoo wish you were Jack, huh? That would work out well, because he sure doesn’t wish he was him. I swear to Buddha, my boy will learn to love musicals if it kills me.
- I know I’m supposed to be thankful to have hair again, but my hair is being kind of an asshole lately.
- Laundry takes forever and seems quite pointless. Being able to see the floor of my closet is totally overrated.
- I still haven’t gone on vacation.
- It’s been weeks since I’ve seen some of my friends in the neighborhood. Stupid summer.
- Alex F’n reminded me of this blog post today. It’s from last summer and I’m hideous. (That’s not what he reminded me, it’s what I was reminded of when I looked at that post. Yuck.)
- Speaking of posts from last summer, here’s a way-weird one about my eye. Don’t worry; it’s not gross like this one.
- If you clicked on the gross thing, I’m laughing at you right now.
- I went an entire post with only a slight complaint about Victor. Where’s my Awesome Wife award?
Done whining. Your turn.