2004-03-05 - 11:11 a.m.

On the internal soundtrack: "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want", The Smiths

Monday, March 1

Happy Birthday, Rhiannonstone!!

Today I am using my new "Dirty Buttercup" icon, thanks to Dixie, in honor of the fact that today was a hair-washing day and I managed to put it off until 9pm. I just have no motivation since no one sees me all day except Poindexter, and as Camillecan attest, he gets pretty grubby himself on occasion.

Tonight around 8:30 or so, the doorbell rang. It was someone looking for Geezer, of Geezer [Product] Company, so he could serve him papers. HAHAHAHAHA! We get mail occasionally for several suspiciously-named businesses, and we suspect the geezer of having a number of fake businesses that he used for tax writeoff purposes. Poindexter emphatically told the guy that the Geezer had moved to CHERRY HILL, and that he should look for Geezer in CHERRY HILL, because he was living in CHERRY HILL now. I hope they find him and squeeze some money out of him. Fucker.

(Newcomers: For more geezer stories, see here and here.)

Also, Poindexter ate half a container of fresh salsa tonight and he is REEKING OF ONION. REEKING. Ugh. And yet, I actually, like, kissed him and stuff. He must be some kinda guy if I can get past the onion for that.

Tuesday, March 2

I am using the butt icon in honor of Poindexter's 34th birthday. I remembered to wish him happy birthday this morning. Go, me!

Last night we were discussing the impending birthday, and he said, "Well, there's no getting around it now. I'm in my mid-thirties." I said, "Yeah, well, you're still hot. I used to think 34 was old, and now I just think it's hot." It didn't seem to reassure him any.

---

Went to the dermatologist today. A gaggle of interns (well, three of them), all female, came in and asked if they could observe. I thought that they were going to watch the doc, but apparently there was a head intern who did the chatting and "diagnosing", but it didn't "count", it was just practice. Only one did any talking, and the others just stood and watched from a polite distance, peering at my face when the head intern looked at it.

The head intern diagnosed acne, and said that the standard treatment is tetracycline for 3-4 months and then topicals after that. Drat, I thought. I really hoped to avoid taking internal drugs. I had decided beforehand that if this was recommended, I'd try it, since it's still temporary even if it's 1/3 of a year. I asked if, supposing I was not happy on the antibiotics, if I could just stop, and she said yes.

Then they left, and the doctor comes in, says, "Wellll, could be rosacea, could be acne. There's some overlap. I'm gonna give you something I think you'll like. Apply it twice a day, and you should be cleared up in a month."

I was dumbfounded. I managed to ask him about cleansers and moisturizers and such (I can stick with what I've got) and that was it. Poindexter is suspicious, but I figure, hey, if it's that easy I'll be thrilled. It's just a few zits, after all, not a landmark case of acne. We'll see what I think in a month. P's gonna take some "before" pictures and I'll check again on April 2.

Wednesday, March 3

When Poindexter was in college, he worked part-time for his sister, who was manager of a pizza place. His job was cutting pizzas and calling out each order, then handing over the pizza. When he handed over a pizza, he'd say -- EVERY TIME -- "Enjoy!" He did this so consistently that it was like a trademark.

His sister now is a SAHM and manages (or whatever the would would be) her older daughter's (Kelly's) Girl Scout Troop. The other day they all went and sold Girl Scout Cookies outside the local supermarket. They sold 250 boxes of cookies in 4 hours. Whenever Kelly sold a box, she'd say "Thank you very much!" and then -- you guessed it -- "Enjoy!"

HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Poindexter's sister said, "I don't know where she got it from!! I never say it, and neither does her dad!"

Genetics is a really funny thing. It could just be a coincidence, but it could well be some weird genetic thing that made both Kelly and Poindexter glom on to using that word in that way. I've heard about identical twins separated at birth and later reunite who end up having eerily similar tastes in just about everything, even silly inconsequential things -- they'll smoke the same brand of cigarettes, for example. I have a photo of my brother and my grandfather sitting in McSorley's, and they are sitting in exactly the same position. It's a distinctive position, too, not a default picture-taking position. My cousin and her daughter both unconciously stick their tongues out when concentrating. I purse my lips when doing mindless drudge work (dishes, for example) exactly the way my mother does. Sure, some of this could be something I imitated as a kid and later absorbed as habit without thinking, but many times it's so involuntary that I'm certain it's just a genetic predisposition.

Friday, March 5

The layoff roller-coaster continues. Poindexter is home today (as he was the past two Fridays), since his office switched to a 32-hour work week. But now he's been pulled onto a project and will be working 40-hour weeks at least until March 22. His boss (a genius and very important to the company) is leaving the company after that deadline. So is another guy in P's department. We have no idea what's going to happen, but we're prepared for anything, so we're good.

In other news:

I'm busy at work! It's FUN!! I'm kicking ass!

I got Glamour magazine in the mail today!

Sunday is our 5th official wedding anniversary!

I washed my hair today!

I have angel hair with meat sauce for lunch!

Life is good!

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