Saturday, January 28, 2006

Candy corn, snickers, and blood.

I went to a party tonight at a local restaurant. We had one of the back rooms all to ourselves. This is probably a good thing, as a roomful of teachers, publishers, health care professionals, ER nurses, and heaven-knows-what, making all that noise with party horns and throwing candy corn, might have been somewhat disorienting to the regular patrons in the dining room.

The occasion was LaSh's birthday! She's old now, just like the rest of us. And may I just say that she's the best boss anyone could ever dream of having? May I just say that here? Old as she is now, she's awesome. Even though she's old now. Very old.

I mean, when you can hear your boss laughing as you pull into the parking lot, she's just got to be awesome. And she is. I love her.

Hear that, LaSh? I love you. No, not like that. Sheesh.

Lucky me, to work with such a great person. Old, but great.

I won a prize for knowing the most kinds of candy. Finally, an advantage to being fat. Well, one advantage. I got a cool prize, though. It wasn't candy, but it was cool. And I tied for third place for throwing candy corn at the boss. You'd have had to be there. In fact, I wish you had been.

My tumorless sister called this afternoon. The day after I left her house, she got up out of her bed, hobbled into her kitchen, and fainted dead away on her hard floor. She landed on her face. I don't think Freddie Krueger himself could have made any more of a bloody mess. She said that her face was black and blue, and swollen almost beyond recognition. Until the swelling goes down, they won't know if any bones were broken, or how they'll put her nose back together. She also told me that when people ask her what happened, she's going to tell them that her husband asked for sex before the doctor gave her permision, and when she turned him down he went berserk and beat her up.

Holy SCHEISSE, I love my sister. Do you suppose it could be genetic?

I would so share my candy corn with her. In fact, she can have it all. I hate candy corn. If I'm going to mess with my blood sugar, I'm doing it with Snickers.