Don’t know how to party

That sound you hear is the drool dripping from my lips as I stare slack-jawed at the TV. This afternoon I handed off a huge project. I was so happy to have it done I celebrated by feasting on D’Amicos Dried Cherry & Turkey salad while watching reruns of Roseanne. Who says I don’t know how to party?

I feel like I’m returning to the Internet from a week-long vacation. Did I miss anything?

While I was away I discovered the only thing more boring than a blogger who works all the time is a blogger who works all the time from home. Holy hannah, do I got nothing to share. Unless, of course, you want to hear me bitch about Excel. Because I could do that. At least it wasn’t PowerPoint. Or, even worse, Presentations, this awful PowerPointesque software that Hell, Inc. forced us to use because they made it. It’s the only software to ever make me cry.

Yeah, see? Since I don’t have coworkers or bosses to passive-aggressively cryptoblog about, I complain about software. Oh, and cats. Because I really do want to tell you about how whenever I play Bejewels (which is what my mom calls the game) Madison caterwauls like someone is trying to shove him into a shredder filled with acid. It’s kind of awesome.

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