Speaking of halushki

I went to a candle party tonight, thrown by my upstairs neighbor. Attendees included a large faction of defected Pennsylvanians, and someone started a discussion about the various ways of cooking halushki (huh? who the hell puts potatoes in it?). And then someone asked me how I make it (which I don’t — Mom does — but I am indeed a cabbage fan), and I was floored that this strange food would be a topic of discussion both online and off.

Of course, then the talk went to pierogies. Ah, to be among kindred. …

I didn’t buy anything from the candle fiesta. I have a lot of Party Lite crap already, and that shit is way expensive, especially given my current budget (and the fact that I hit the liquor store after work). But I did ask the woman doing the show (who has the personality of a fucking cardboard box) if they happened to have any cobalt glass items.

So she said, “Well, what’s your definition of cobalt?” I looked at her like she was nuts, and I pointed to my way-cool plastic cobalt shoes. I also pointed to the lone Hanukkah item in the book and told her that was the blue I wanted. So she showed me a candle dish, and I said I already have that one. She said, “Well, why don’t you just slap my hand next time I try to show you something?” I was perfectly aghast. So I got up and talked to some of my friends across the room, and I left with no purchase.

Too bad, because I was eyeballing the creme caramel candles and a gingerbread votive house for Mom. That’s OK — I kept the catalog and will order from somebody else. Dumb bitch.

Speaking of dumb bitches, Town Crier needs to die. Lazy fatass bitch. Honest to christ, what is her purpose on this earth, let alone in the workplace?

Had a tense manager’s meeting today. I had plans on running into Arlington for my lunch hour on an errand, but then the reminder popped up in my calendar, so I had to find other ways of accomplishing the errand (god love the phone). The meeting revolved around budget issues, furlough days, raises, outstanding bills and morale. All in all, it was painful.

I left work right after it. And when I went to the liquor store and slapped down $80 in purchases, the guy behind the counter said, “Party?” I said, “No. Dinner.”

LOL. He’s still scratching his head over it. And boy am I tempted to crack something open and enjoy. But I’ve got work to do (after losing two hours of my life in Candle Hell), so I’ll pass. For the time being, anyway. 😉

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