I put pillowcases on my bed, not over my head

"Holy shit, she updated!"

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Jesus, has it really been almost a month since I wrote here? I suppose I could have written a mopey entry, because May has been a rotten month. The beetles that were in my storage closet relocated over my fucking BED, I had to leave work literally 15 minutes after getting there because I almost fainted, work has been eating my ass out, and Daddy-O was injured when he slipped on a treadmill at the gym. But for some reason, I just didn't feel like writing, and I'm glad to report that most of those situations have been remedied. My landlady got the exterminators out immediately, I recuperated from my illness quickly (and yes, I really was sick, not "sick"), and Daddy-O was bruised but not broken. Work still sucks, but it’s not intolerable.

I would like to take this moment to reiterate that 2008 can get better ANY FUCKING DAY NOW. Thanks.

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This morning, I pulled into the parking lot at work just as “Brown Sugar” came on the radio. It’s one of my favorite Rolling Stones songs, and I was actually early for a change, so I cranked it up and drummed my fingers on the steering wheel in time to the beat.

Oh, fuck it; I had to sing along.

“Brown sugar! How come you taste so good, girl?” I belted out, just as movement in my rearview mirror caught my eye.

It was my section manager.

My AFRICAN-AMERICAN section manager.

And she was walking up to my car.

Quickly, I turned down the radio and frantically tried to think of something to say. “Gosh, L, sorry about that! I know a song about a black prostitute and her apparently quite tasty ladynectar isn’t the most appropriate thing to be listening to on company property. Obviously I’m not sexist, and I’m not racist either, I promise! Obama for Change!”

With a sickly smile on my face, I turned to look at L as she leaned into my window.

“Hi, L,” I said weakly.

She grinned at me and said, “I love that song.”