I had eggs with onions for breakfast, and the cook in the cafeteria here at work didn't sautee the onions long enough, and now I have that nasty raw-onion taste in my mouth. I'm experimenting with various ways to vanquish these ghosts of onions past from my palate. Mints don't work; neither does Red Bull or water. Decaf coffee, however, seems to be doing a respectable job. I think a nice spicy curry would do the trick, but I don't think I can get kashmiri rogan josh out of the vending machine. Pity.
I'm still not very busy at work, so I have nothing better to do than to ramble about minutiae. If I don't ramble about minutiae, I'm going to start telling you about how down payments and closing costs are calculated (there's a tax credit involved! and some crap about having to pay $20 a day in interest during the first month we live there, but not during the second! what the fuck!), and about how I now know all about how personal liability coverages affect homeowner's insurance premiums, and I'm pretty sure you don't want to hear about that.
I could also tell you about how my mortgage guy likes to refer to money as "jack," and he says it like "jee-ack," in that sort of affected way one associates with broad-shouldered alpha males who coach football and sell home loans. And that's exactly what he is, but somehow, he manages to not take himself too terribly seriously, so I find it oddly endearing. I'm even willing to look past the fact that he drives one of those Expedition SUVs that occupy more square footage than my first apartment.
On another note, if you've been thinking to yourself, "Hey, self, I sure could use a lot of useless tchochke," you should come work here. Over the past two weeks I have received the following, all emblazoned with company logo: 1 large die-cast model racecar; 2 of those foam squeezy spheres that you're supposed to use to combat stress; approximately 72 pens; about 40 notepads; a set of golf balls; a tote bag; and one of these:
Do you have any idea what this is? Neither did I. Marc thought maybe it was some sort of golf tee cozy contraption, and I totally believed him, because he and I know about as much about golf accessories as we do about forensic pathology -- possibly less, if you consider the thousands of hours we've spent watching Law and Order. Finally, a co-worker set me straight. It's a thingy that you attach to the sun visor in your car, and you hang your sunglasses from it.
Um. Oh. OK.
posted by Kate at 10:22 AM link/comments
