Fuck.

I should have realized a long time ago that this would be a never ending cycle... damn dust bunnies.

And that cat... he must learn to control his bowels. I don't ever want to clean fart off the wall again! You should see him right now... so sweet and inncocent. He is in "his chair" taking a bath, not knowing what I endured the other day... or did he? Wicked, evil little thing.

I got a call from someone today about a job. She had several questions for me before she passed my resume on to the big boys. Her main concern was my PowerPoint skills.

They kick ass... it's basically what I told her. I wasn't lying either, however I have no proof. My bad-ass PowerPoint presentation currently resides in Tyler on a laptop of my estranged ex-partner thingie. I don't know what we were to each other, but we produced a fine presentation, I'll tell you that much. I did all the technical work, he did the talking. I was okay with that... I'm not much for public speaking. But something did come out of that little presentation. You see, I was working on a project to promote a certain service organization. I will not name it here, because I would hate for someone to search for this fine organization on the web and get my diary... they might have a damn coronary or something! Anyway, I will give this clue, and if you can't figure it out, you don't deserve to know: They deliver hot food to old people. There... now you know. So anyway, we did this big presentation to promote the organization within the community. I came up with a wonderful phrase, "It's more than just a meal." Apparently they liked this and it filtered all the way up to headquarters because they are using this phrase in their national ad campaign right now! So, if you see or hear it... think of me. It was my idea. (like it matters)