Happy Friday, folks. Just try to listen to these Auto Tune songs and not feel happy.
and, of course, my perma-favourite
So, the world ends tomorrow. How do you feel about that?
Having seen billboards advertising the end of the world, PH and I went to the advertised website and spent an hour baffling over this man’s theology. As far as we can tell, he has unsuccessfully predicted the end of the world several times before, and seems to be doing well financially off of it.
We’ll give him this, though: apparently all of his investments are short-term ones.
Anyway, borrowing the question from Catfish, IF this were the end of the world tomorrow, what would you want to be doing tonight?
No point in spending it repenting, since this guy says God has already picked his chosen few for salvation.
It’s about time this week finished.
Points of interest from This Week:
The Babby is no longer the size of a raspberry. It is apparently closer to the size of a plum. I don’t know why they always use fruit as your sample size. It gives me bizarre images of putting my juicy plum babby to my mouth and going “mmmm… plumbabby…”
It also looks like a people now, and apparently has sex organs. I wish I had a peephole.
I told my boss today. She congratulated me, and it was awkward.
I’ve worked late every evening this week, and I am displeased.
On Wednesday afternoon, I took a dog to the vet for vaccines. On the way, he decided to have massive, copious diarrhea the likes of which I cannot describe. In fact, the smell and texture was so bizarre that I am forced to admit that it may have not been diarrhea, but semi-digested feces VOMITED all over the floor of the van. In any case, all the way there and all the way back it sloshed and trickled around on the floor of the vehicle. It took fifteen towels and a lot of gagging to remove the main portion of the mess while my coworkers looked on in amused sympathy.
Unfortunately, it had had lots of time to spread into all the nooks and crannies – under the wheelchair tie-downs, under the mechanism of the wheelchair lift. It was liquid enough to spread under such places, but not liquid enough to want to leave such places. No amount of wiping and poking could coax it out, not even sharp objects wrapped in a towel. I ended up having to leave the van that way that night, with the edges and spaces in the van looking like they had been stuffed with peanut butter but smelling totally unlike peanut butter.
The next day my coworker and I barraged the vehicle with a steam cleaner and a pointed jet. This managed to blow the diarrhea/crap vomitus out from most of the crevices, but then it balled up in crumbs that were not easily liftable.
A wet-dry vac may have to be taken to it.
Or maybe the poo will just stay there, like, FOREVER.
To parents who would warn me that I will be shocked by the amount of poo I will deal with upon having a baby, I say – bring it on. Welcome to my life.
This dog is on my list.