dianaschnuth

OMG. OMG. Go here and listen to streaming radio out of Los Angeles. It’s my goddamned favorite radio station reincarnate (practically), and it’s in fucking California! Aargh! I want!

Well, at least it’s a Clear Channel station. That means, if it does well in L.A, maybe they’ll assimilate the country with their new station format. Who’d have ever thought we’d think Clear Channel was a good thing?

…since when did I like Bran Van 3000 so damn much? I’m grooving so hard to this radio station, I don’t want to go to bed.

(But I have to.)

—–Original Message—–
From: Diana Schnuth
Sent: Thursday, May 06, 2004 1:08 PM
To: Kris Heath (work)
Cc: Aaron Schnuth
Subject: Gas at Meijer

> Don’t pay too much for gas…I see it’s up over $1.90 now.

Let me share with both of you my Meijer escapade. So, gas there is only $1.83 or something. Only. Hah. I pull in to pump #14 and bring my purse out with me, and start to pump my gas. There was a small puddle in front of the pump that I took care not to step in, assuming it was gas. Anyway, I planned to put in $10 worth. The gauge rolls up to $9.60… 70… 80… I let go of the trigger —

— and it keeps pumping. The damn automatic latch is stuck, and I can’t get it to stop! The numbers scroll on… $11… $12… finally ending at $19.26, at which point I’ve filled the tank with mildly overpriced petrol. And, of course, I only have $14 in my wallet.

So, off I trek to the main store, to use the ATM and get out money for gas (and garage saleing, while I’m at it). No problems there, trek back, pay the nice girl, tell her about the gas spill, etc, etc. But, dang, that took twice as long as it needed to. *sigh*

It feels like Friday, too, but it’s not. How cruel.
– Diana

I was so proud of myself. While I was at work, I scripted out the remainder of my day in half-hour increments. Half an hour for dinner, then cleaning the living and dining rooms, practicing mellophone, computer time, shower and personal grooming, all carefully plotted out.

When I got home, I saw Aaron off to work, ate dinner, and took a two-hour nap.

Gah!

Ah, well… I guess I needed the sleep. Strike the mello practice, and strike cleaning. *sigh*

Dammit… I hate it when I’m bored. And tired.

My definition of being bored is when nothing you can think of sounds good. Usually this is when I would eat something. Good thing our fridge is out of instant food snacky items like hot dogs and lunchmeat and low-carb tortillas, and I’m tired of string cheese.

So… um… I guess I’ll go through my stack of scrap paper on which I have written things I should blog about, and write about them until I decide it’s time to go to bed or go read or something. (I really do have a stack of scrap paper on my desk, with stuff I need to do and to blog about. I write myself notes at work, since I’ll get canned for posting to my LJ on the job, or even on break.)

I made an unfortunate discovery last night. Remember back when I was blogging about “I hope my ass doesn’t look like that”? (I can’t find the entry, but I remember writing it.) Well, before I took my shower last night, I was contemplating myself in the full-length mirror. —Yeah, I know, just hold your upchuck till the end of my story, OK? Anyway, I was contemplating the fact that I recently downgraded (or would it be upgrading?) from “obese” to “slightly overweight,” according to my BMI of 30. Sooo… I took my hand mirror, turned around, and looked at my bare ass.

And let me tell you, it was not a pretty sight.

My ass does look like that.

I look much better from the side than from either the front or the back. Get myself a boob lift, lose some more paunch/gut/fat/belly/whathaveyou, and I’d be looking downright normal when viewed from the side. From the front… now that’s going to take a bit more work.

In other news, hearing 30- and 40-somethings in my office discuss how to spell “whoop-ass” (or, as they insist, “whup-ass”) is quite amusing.

Something else I heard from one nearly-50-year-old woman in my office, regarding her 401(k): “It’s my future—you’d think I’d pay more attention. But I don’t have the time to look into all these things! It’s like a crapshoot; you just hope for the best.” Wow… I’ve got thirty-some-odd years until retirement, and I check my 401(k) at least monthly, if not weekly. This woman is my Mom’s age, and she just doesn’t give a shit. That’s amazing. (Of course, my Mom’s going to be working until she dies, for lack of any savings whatsoever.)

Oh, and you’ve gotta take this quiz. The results will amaze you.

After you’ve done that, use some free long-distance minutes to call this recording: 248-262-6861. It’s a Detroit number, and it’s just the cost of the long-distance call. It’s not some weird 900-number thing. Just call it, OK? You’ll be glad you did.

OK, um… I think I’m done now.

Hey! It’s my birthday. How ’bout that. I actually forgot until I got to work and saw two birthday cards on my desk.

Don’t feel any older. Still in my late 20’s. Got my presents last weekend. No cake on Atkins. Um… yeah.

I’m going to bed now.