Today was a day filled with contemplation. (Okay, fine. It was a day filled with ways to avoid doing any work because even though I love my job, I’m a procrastinator. Shush.) All of these random thoughts would probably make nice posts on their own, but I figured that I’d just lump ‘em all into one. Think of this as being much like having leftovers for dinner. There’s just not enough of any one thing to make a meal, but put it all together, and you’ll be full. Whoa. That was all metaphoric and stuff. Go, me.

Anyway.

We have an ongoing debate in our house about who’s more annoying — skinny chicks who think they’re fat or fat broads (broads. Get it? ‘Cause they’re kind of wide? Get it? Huh? Hee.) who think they’re skinny. It’s a tough call really, but my money is on the fat chicks because I can walk away from a skinny girl whining about how, at 5′9″, she weighs ZOMG! 135 POUNDS, but I can’t un-see a booty (with more dimples than a golf ball) hanging out of the Daisy Dukes. But I’ve had this rant about fat chicks before, so I won’t rehash it now.

I decided today that since I’m not going to become a gourmet chef anytime soon, I better find some other virtue but quick. I mean, I can only make it on my looks alone for so long here, people.

In this quest, I decided I’m going to try to give up cursing. No, not the kind that involves voodoo dolls and pins and juju and stuff. (I’d never give that up. Ahhahahahaha…I crack myself up.) The other kind that involves words that rhyme with puck, spit, etc. Okay, really, I made the decision like five minutes ago, but look — so far, so good. Every journey starts with one step; right? Damn…I mean, darn straight. Shi…crap…crud? Oh hell.

I miss my little rats like you wouldn’t believe. Zoe, the #2 on Lenna’s BFF list, called tonight, and I thought I was going to cry. Man, I miss my babies. But give me an hour with them home, and I’ll be begging my mom to take them home with her. It’s always the same.

I’m debating about whether or not I should hire one of the little pre-teen queens who live around here to come be a mother’s helper. I don’t really care to have someone who comes in and completely takes over the care of Tricia girl for several hours a day, but I would like someone who could sit with her between feedings so I could actually have a regular schedule again. Then again, my rats will be home this weekend, and why did I have kids if not for slave labor?

Sometimes, I wonder how the hell I’ve been so lucky in my life to find the kind of friends I have and not only to find them but to keep them. I keep waiting for all of them to realize I’m just a dorky fat girl with calico hair and a big mouth. The weird part is I think they already know that, and they love me anyway. Sometimes, Fate can be very nice to us even when we don’t deserve it.

I had other stuff to talk about, but I’ll be dam…darned if I can remember what it was. Aside from that, I should probably save anything else for another time when I don’t have anything to cook…err…post.