Caterwauling

I’m running insanely late for Cat’s party, but all I have to say is, dude. Beer for breakfast. Mmm, Yuengling. But I did end up partaking of broiled meat goodness courtesy of Tom at the D.C. Metroblogging Second Anniversary Bash. While seeing him and Tiff was definitely the highlight (and meeting all the other local bloggers, natch!), I admit, seeing the sun was such a marvelous, wondrous thing as well. Daylight — you mean it comes every day?

In any event, off to see more bloggers! *mwah!* Hope your day is as grand as mine!

My buddy at work gave me a brand-new recliner/ottoman set from everyone’s favorite Swedish store. It’s purple microfiber and holy shit, COMFY. The one thing I lack in the house is, oh, furniture, and I’d joked that I spend 60 hours a week at work because at least there’s a chair there.

She asked me one day if I like purple, and yesterday she brought me the furniture under the auspices that she doesn’t use it. (Good lord, I could die in this chair, it’s so heavenly.) Maddie has claimed the chair and Kadi’s all about the ottoman, but I didn’t realize microfiber was so easy to clean insofar as cat hair. (I also joke that PETA would shoot me on-sight if they saw all the fur I wear, but I promise, I’m not doin’ it voluntarily!)

I need to do something nice for my friend, although I’m not sure what but I’ll think of something. Just goes to show that if you live a good life and just try to be a decent person, karma really does lend you a helping hand when you need it most.

I’d debated leaving said chair at work, given that I’m rarely home (either at work, out shopping or on the rare occasion the boy and I can schedule 10 consecutive minutes in the same room, I visit him. His floor is way quieter than mine, given that the family with five toddlers in the 1BR + den moved out and a couple with four teenagers and one toddler just moved in. The hell? They all park themselves on the landing/stairs and I cannot STAND them), but then I’d probably never leave.

I’ve come to just hate even hinting at politics on this blog, but I’m breaking my silence for five minutes. I was staring at Saturday morning financial TV and feeling sick over the Seattle shooting (way to go, wack-job Muslim, shooting Jews in America. Great work. Hope somebody strings you up by your ball sack. Jerkoff). *kick*

And it occured to me that while I absolutely abhor the Bush dynasty (just say no to Jeb!), I’m pretty damned happy that our secretary of state is a woman. Not that I’m a fan of Condi, by any means, but she’s got an amazing opportunity to break the boys’ club mold and get some shit done. Whether she will — or even can, as I know how hard it is to be taken seriously when you only possess theoretical testicles — is anyone’s guess, but more power to her.

Speaking of girl power, I found out that if I just pay double, I can get private yoga/stress relief/meditation classes at my own convenience. Hmm. I don’t suppose 1 a.m. Monday, Wednesday and Friday is convenient to the instructor?

Didn’t even have time to finish my call to the center to tell them I didn’t have time to make it. Oh well. Others have it much worse in the world, so who am I to whine? I mean, hell, my favorite toy called it quits before a very important meeting today. (Ahem.) So, really, if I could live through that, everything else is cake.

Mmm, cake. … ;9

I might or might not meet my deadlines in time for tonight’s yoga class, and maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t exactly own exercise gear. Well, I do, but it is about four sizes smaller than I am right now because, dude, it’s been awhile.

So I was joking with someone who had stopped to visit to ask whether I’m still going to the class, and I was thinking about what I’m wearing. I think the pants would be OK — they’re comfy and roomy (I got ‘em for $4.97 — the legs are three inches too long and they keep getting caught in my cute Liz Claiborne heels). They’re designer but they were not only on clearance, but I swear they had to be mismarked. w00t!

Anyway, back to the moment. I went to stretch all Zen-like and shit, but well, the girls started to fall out of the bottom of the beloved push-up bra, so perhaps we need to add a sports bra to the shopping list if we’re going to go about this health-conscious voyage. Wouldn’t want to turn yoga into ‘ho-ga!!!

They have a health checklist in the brochure (one of those things that says if you have three or more of these symptoms, you need this class), and I have 11 of the 12 signs you need a health intervention (e.g., can’t concentrate, can’t sleep, stiff, anxious, shows up regularly to self-pity parties, rides the waah-mbulance, etc.). So yeah, I s’pose it’s time to MAKE time!

Maybe this will give me the f’ing concentration I need to get my damn work done in a reasonable amount of time. Aw, hell, I’d be happy for the improved flexibility. …