Killing Time

Fourteen minutes left to go until this (work) day is over. I would totally leave now, except I'm answering the phones because the receptionist left early. Hows that for suck?

Today was about worthless. Seriously. Came in about an hour late. Went to SASH to throw the geriatric department a Christmas party. Went to Aldaco's for lunch. Came in to work and surfed the internet, mostly reading about Bettie Page, who died yesterday. And now I'm sitting up front, where I actually did a smidgen, a SMIDGEN, of work. Now I'm blogging.

Nine minutes left.

Or pretending to blog. Is it still blogging if you are just randomly typing out stuff as it pops into your head?

I've got to haul buns out of here, head to pick up The Smoodge, then run over to Toys R Us or Walmart to get a gift card for the birthday party we have to go to this evening, which I have no idea where THAT is, then we'll come home and I'll take some photos of a friend of mine, who actually kind of looks like Bettie Page, so we'll probably do a couple of Bettie themed shots.

Six minutes. Six minutes. Six minutes, Doug E Fresh, you're on...

The gum in my mouth right now? Gross. If you have the opportunity to chew Extra classic bubble, don't. Trust me.

WHOO-HOO! It's go time!!! Hasta Pastas!

*side note: I did a spell check on this before I hit publish, and apparently smidgen is spelled correctly. Is that even a real word?