Tasty Tidbits for the Weekend...

Ah yes, the mouse surgeon has struck again. (See previous blog, you naughty non-regular readers.) Seems part of her very important doings includes re-programming work cell phones for the minions. She asks me for my cell phone, indicating that she needs to "re-program" it. This in actuality means: "Uh, I've gotta add area codes to the numbers in your phone because everyone's doin' it." Re-program, my ass. This sounds like a simple procedure, as she IS a mouse surgeon and this is so much simpler than rodent revival....

She leaves the room (I guess re-programming phones takes privacy and complete concentration or something) and doesn't come back for a few minutes. When she finally does return, she half- heartedly apologizes to me for deleting all the phone numbers "by accident" that had been stored in my cell phone.

I don't know about you, but if I've programming them into my phone, I do NOT have them written down somewhere else. I don't have some stinkin' phone book or some EXCEL spread sheet with all those cell phones, home phones, work phones. I don't even know where to begin looking for half the numbers I had entered into that phone.

As you can imagine, I am NOT amused.

Incredibly, the mouse surgeon apologizes. This is quite a feat as she is not the apologizing type. (Apologizing acknowledges that she may have done something not so perfectly. Rat bastard. Er--I mean Mouse Bastard.) In fact, she apologized a few times. I made no eye contact as I was too disgusted and trying hard to keep my mouth shut. What I want to scream is: YOU MORON! YOU COULDN'T SAVE A MOUSE IF YOU CAN'T EVEN RE-PROGRAM MY PHONE WITHOUT SCREWING IT ALL UP!

Let's move on to a more serious subject: Grey's Anatomy. Right now, the star of the show is DEAD. That's never good. You don't want your star dead. The show is named after her, for Pete's sake. I don't think they will kill off the star of the show, but one never knows. I mean, they killed off Valerie Harper and the show was named after her. And, let's not forget Bobby Ewing on Dallas--his whole death was a DREAM. I am SO going to be crabby if this is a dream. They did do a kind of dream/unconscious thing on HOUSE recently, so I guess if it's good enough for one medical TV show, it's good enough for another. The wife and I are rather traumatized by this recent event on the show. (We were more traumatized by the fact that it is a three parter and we didn't realize this until 45 minutes into the second show.) My guess is that Christine is going to come along, get pissed off, start beating on Meredith's chest and Meredith is going to come back SHOOTING into her body and she will be saved and fine because her body temp was so low that she won't have any brain damage. Check back next week to see if I was right....

Finally, let's end on a romantic note, shan't we? The wife and I have a basic agreement that cards are enough for holidays like Valentine's Day. We get a card, write nice things, exchange cards, look lovingly into each other's eyes and then go watch TV or something. So, imagine my surprise when I looked up at work (while running a valentine's day lunch with 40 or so mentally ill clients sucking down their viddles) and see the wife standing in front of me. She hands me a Fannie May Bag--filled with one very lovely heart-shaped box of Pixies (a big favorite of mine). She is not the type to leave work to do such romantic, spontaneous acts nor is she the type to bring gifts when gifts are not on the menu and she's certainly has never done anything quite like this before..... I was very touched by this act of kindness and I think I even may have blushed a little bit. A co-worker made sure to point this act out to everyone in attendance and had everyone clap. Oh dear! This very nice gesture was not met by any romantic gifts from me, as who woulda thunk she'd bring me candy when gifts are not part of the plan?! What a woman. I'll have to be extra-well-behaved this weekend to repay her: shoes off before entering the house, help with laundry, put belongings semi-away.....

....but stay away from my Pixies. THEY'RE MINE! And, keep that damned mouse surgeon away from me and my Pixies....I might put a Pixie right up her ass if she bothers me today....