Writ Large on the Marquee: Gas!
Friday, Feb. 15, 2008 at 7:50 a.m.
So I had a nice Valentine's Day � I know that for many people Valentine's Day is a day of drudgery to simply manage through. I remember one year I made a red velvet cake that was really red and not exactly cooked all the way through, so it looked like it bled when you cut into it, and I decorated the cake with the words "Happy FREAKING Valentine's Day", and I drove a knife right through the cake. I took it to work. Everyone avoided me that day. I wonder why.
The Hubster was a good hubster and gave me one of the pairs of earrings that I circled in an advertisement and handed to him with the words, "I'd like to have these." Hubster's an engineer, and therefore subtlety doesn't work for him. Unless that subtlety is wrapped around a very large brick. I gave Hubster a large goody bag filled with candy, a Beatles t-shirt, Dilbert pens and sticky pads, a DVD of Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe, but I think his favorite out the batch was a copy of this book:
This book is a veritable uber-resource for the uber-geek in your life, I swear. It has the periodic table, area codes for the entire world, gifts for every anniversary, how to translate board feet into linear feet, the density of all minerals per cubic inch, how to do an appendectomy, and more! I found out about this book while watching Mythbusters and I noticed Hubster's eyes light up when Adam Savage talked about how much he uses the book. I think Hubster read half of it last night.
Gads, he's such a geek.
In other news, I have officially lost 15.4 pounds. Yay me! I got another 5 pound sticker! Yay me again!
Otherwise, I'm okay, but I have to have a couple more doctor's appointments this month, including a visit to the Obi-Wan for my "Well Woman" exam . . . ich. That's never fun, is it, girls? And the men just don't get it, and then they whinge when they get a prostate exam, which they only have to have like every five years or so, when we get to spend an hour every year with our nethers hanging out to the wind on the edge of a table under a paper sheet while trying not to fart.
And this year, I have further ignominy because that appointment happens to fall on my birthday, and that's not the way I want to spend my birthday at all. You know, under a paper sheet and all. Trying not to fart. Especially the farting thing.
Perhaps that should be the title of my autobiography. Trying Not to Fart! It has a ring to it. It could sell. Maybe even be a musical on Broadway, who knows!