well-dressed foolish ideas

It's the end of the world. Only funny! This week's link.

A day late.
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About 100 degrees Farenheit. And I am too lazy to convert - so take my word for it - I have a slight fever.

Another one down.

All week we healthy folk at the office watched in horror, or maybe it was just me, as one after one, the coworkers started dropping like flies to some horrible flu strand. It all started a week and a half ago, as one guy was ill. By tomorrow, unless someone else beat me to it, I'll be lucky number 13 to succumb. Unless, by miracle, I wake up not coughing, un-achey and un-fevered.

Someone or another was actually incubating this horrible disease while in the office and then spread it across the whole of the office to all the innocent and unwitting people. WHoever that was, please know that you're a mean man, but I understand that you probably didn't know you were spreading what feels like mini-death to those of whom you work with.

On another note, and just because it's important for the following story, I only woke up certain I was starting the sick phase of this illness this morning. I've been on the couch, under a blanket, watching dvd's all day. I'm going to go to bed just after the washing machine finishes washing some of my clothes.

It was little Jimmy's birthday today so we had to celebrate last night. (Happy birthday Jimmy!) After my day of assembling furniture, I quite enjoyed the two or three beers and funny discussions with Jimmy and company.

Nap time.
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Anything in my life that would normally be blog fodder is somehow lacking.

Real life is on pause, but crazy Viennese winter weather is in full force. From the comfort and quiet of the office, it looked like there was a blizzard passing through earlier today. But what would I know about blizzards, what with me being a Californian and all.
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So I went to sleep last night a bit late. Not that this is any of your business, but I'm gonna tell you anyways. I went to sleep wearing boxers, a hooded sweatshirt (because I love a stiff neck in the morning, okay?), and socks. My hair was in a ponytail.

I woke up startled and worried about the time from a dream that I was particularly enjoying that involved sex, and good sex at that. I hadn't set my alarm, so the waking up was likely a good thing, but why couldn't the dream sex have finished?

I woke up wearing only one sock. The one I wasn't wearing was folded and neatly placed beneath one of my pillows. ... What? It was sitting on top of my hair band that, last night, held my hair in a ponytail.

I woke up at the normal time I wake up these days for work. And I wanted to go back to sleep, but I couldn't be bothered to set an alarm for 30 minutes later. So I listened to my kitten run around in my living room chasing what can only be one of my boots.

I'll give you three guesses as to what happened to me last night.
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I couldn't get a Winnie the Pooh quote out of my head. So now that I've worked out the whole thing again, I hope it gets stuck in your head.

"Pooh, promise you won't forget about me, ever. Not even when
I'm a hundred."
Pooh though for a little. "How old shall I be then?"
"Ninety-nine."
Pooh nodded. "I promise," he said.
- Christopher Robin & Pooh Bear

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I'm as lame as you think. I've been busy working and I spent all weekend at my own flat.

If only I had more to say.

Instead, check out this week's link - glad someone is proving that I don't have to rush to a decision on the matter.
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People who got here searching for

Xbox finger tingling (MSN) and people dressed in fruit (Yahoo)

Too bad you didn't find anything related to your search within about 5000 pages of results before the one with my blog's url. Really. Sorry 'bout that.

And whoever got here looking for

ear ache won't go away (MSN)

I'm so sorry. I understand your pain and I wish you good doctor visits.
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I'm not really fit for public consumption. Everything that people can do annoys me somehow. I tell a joke, you don't even crack a smile. I try to engage you in conversation, you seem entirely and completely uninterested in talking to anyone. Annoyed. I smile at you, you don't smile back. Annoyed. I send a text, you don't reply. Annoyed. I ask you to not whine, you do anyways. Annoyed. I promise not to whine myself, you bug the ever living shit out of me so I do. Annoyed. I even changed my attitude mid-conversation to lost the attitude, and you weren't even phased! Annoyed! God damnit.

Everything went wrong today. Nothing was easy. Frustration. Lots of it. And I'm annoyed. I'm so not fit for consumption today.

So whomever I might have come into contact with today, sorry. I should have stayed at home this morning. I should have been locked up and out of harm's way. I should have been detained.
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Marc Chagall is being shown at the Albertina. I wanna go.

Check out the link for details.
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The list of things to do has become smaller. And the only reason it has become smaller is because I didn't sleep last night, and in order to keep myself from falling into the ever horribly cyclical problem of sleeping at all the wrong times, I considered at about 6 this morning that I needed something to do.

And boy did I find something to do.

Unfortunately, I've this sick problem with anyone that wants to bring things to me at my flat. They never find me. I didn't think it would be such a difficult thing to do, but boy how wrong I am. I wasn't lost in my flat all day. I didn't need a rescue party to find me. It's not even a ginormous (that would be gigantic+enormous, only much more fun to say aloud) flat. It has one entrance, with a notification device otherwise known as a doorbell, but somehow it's some kind of contraption that eludes delivery folks. It might be one of those "21st century" things, but I really couldn't say for sure, as I didn't live in Vienna last century. I'll default to the natives on that one. So I did indeed stay within the house which holds my flat the entire day without sleep.

(I'm feeling more and more sane with every word I write. Really. Sorry for the torture, but it just has to be done. I'm not my normal level of sane right now. And you have to deal with it.)

My bedroom floor, yeah, it's never been so... so... obvious! There's so much of the floor to see! I must cover it back up - with furniture! THAT WAS NEVER DELIVERED. (I'll get over it. I will. -- When the bastards bring me the furniture sometime next fucking year.) Yet, I digress. I rearranged. I organized. I sorted. I vacuumed, for fuck's sake. I moved my bed! OH MY GOD I MOVED MY BED. It was a life changing event. Really. You should try it if you think you need some kind of life-altering experience. What other kind of life altering events can provide you with such an increased probability of toe-stubbing, multiple times - in one hour - other than moving furniture? It's not the best thing that came out of moving things around, but it sure was one of the most prominent results of the move!

Once I had secured the future of my toes turning black and blue for the next month from the adjusted bedframe, I wandered into the living room and thought to myself "This won't take long, I'm so in the groove." Right. So I started. I sorted. I organized. I (cringe to say) dusted. I can see some sort of system to the desk top and the papers and the books, but no one else would be able to readily or quickly see the system of which I speak. It's all clear in my world though. I swept, and used the scariest goddamn machine ever - as Mia likes to call the vacuum cleaner. I shook rugs and scared the living crap out of my cat on numerous occasions just by merely turning around with a broom or vacuum cleaner or some other cleaning device in my hand. I'm pleased to report that she can jump nearly a whole meter in the air when she's frightened or startled. So the living room only took me about 3 hours. I had kind of cheated though, as earlier this week I started with cleaning little bits of the room.

I did laundry like I've never done laundry before. Not even that one time where I did laundry all weekend and none of it was mine. I even used the handy dandy front loading washing machine's window, as I've learned since the last incident, to determine if a gentle wash cycle was really done or if the machine was just toying with me like the evil bastard machine that it is. Turns out it was trying to pull a fast one, but now I'm just too smart for it. "Ha ha!" I say. What a triumph.

The bathroom looks only a tad sparklier, the front room has more floor again, the living room is now covered with paper clumps from kitten play hour - that lasted 5 hours - but is in better shape otherwise, and the bedroom looks like a bedroom again (mostly).

I removed a lot of crap from my flat. And the little old lady that is my neighbor watched me make a dozen trips to the trash cans or recycle bins. She looked scornfully at me through her kitchen window, as if tossing rubbish in the bins was a horrible idea! Horrible! I got to break stuff just to fit it into the bins, and let me tell you that was perhaps the absolute highlight of my day. Breaking stuff to fit it in the bins at 3 in the afternoon, dying for some coffee or tea or caffeine of any kind, really, and being watched and scowled at by the sweetest lady in the world.

I completely and totally ignored the kitchen. I have no idea what happened, but sometime around 4 in the afternoon I said, aloud, to whomever was near (certainly NOT a delivery person, those motherfuckers) "I'm done." So the torture of cleaning, or as I prefer to call it "tidying up" continues. And must end before Sunday evening, as I can't go back to work with my flat only half tidied. It cannot be done.

That means that my to do list looks a little different now and I'm sharing it, because you totally care. (Actually, it's more for me than for you. So Nyah!)

• Wait all day Friday for no one to show up with deliveries (Originally, this was "Be home on Friday for deliveries of furniture!" but we don't really want to rehash this, right?)


• Reschedule appointments this week to allow time for sorting out flat


• Shop for flat stuff at the massively huge IKEA


• Choose a chest of drawers for bedroom, and perhaps other furniture that can hold clothing or other textile-like items


• Sort clothes to get rid of


• Sort clothes in closet - organize placement of clothes pieces by color and type (Shush, I'm not sick, thankyouverymuch.)


• Do laundry like a mad woman


• Organize miscellaneous random items in my bedroom


• Organize shoes where the real goal for this is to decrease number of shoes owned


• Put away clean laundry


• Change sheets and blankets on bed


• Pickup living room and vacuum, dust, sweep the room and its belongings


• Sweep and vacuum the front room


• Organize shoes in the front room


• Organize desk


• Accidentally trod on cat whilst walking around the flat doing stuff


• Clean rugs


• Sweep the entire living room


• Wait for deliveries on Saturday


• Wash dishes


• Assemble furniture - WHEN IT ARRIVES


• Move living room furniture around


• Shop for gifts (Not out of place. Really)


• Sweep and vacuum kitchen


• Take clothes that I intend to never wear again out of flat


• Return friend's shopping wares


• Return bag of clothes and books to rightful owner


• Clean bathtub


• Clean toilet - I should probably not save this for last as it's my most hated chore in the house.


• Go fetch package, as DHL sucks as a delivery service. (I have to PICK UP my delivered package?? From their office? Kickass customer service there, guys. Job well done.)

I'm craving seitan steak, mashed potatoes, mushrooms in a cream sauce and a glass of wine. Where did I hide my personal Cook and Butler with all this cleaning? Has anyone seen Jeeves? I do miss my precious butler so. He usually lives quietly in the kitchen, chained to the table, but I can't find him anymore and I fear he may have gotten out.

And now, maybe I'll get some sleep. Since it's midnight and I'm goddamned tired. If not, I guess I can find comfort in the fact that my cat can sleep anywhere, anytime.

...Bitch.
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The sun isn't entirely up at the moment. But I am.

That is all.
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As a list, because I can't be bothered to be cryptic at this hour.

-It's been all of 30 seconds under this new duvet, and I totally did need it. I already absolutely adore it. I'm in heaven, only in my bed at the very same time. It's huge, so it can't be stolen. It's warm and cozy and all things a duvet should be, only more.

-Some sleep. At normal and regular times and hours. For regular and normal hours.

-Some water wouldn't kill me, but I'm too lazy to get my own right now.

-A hug, but not really a whole snuggly, warm hug. One where it's the placating kind. Where someone just kind of wraps their arms around my shoulders for a few seconds to say something little or something of importance only to me.

-A dream that doesn't freak me out when I wake up.

-Some peace from the children that for some ungodly reason are somewhere near the kindergarten in my house. I think bongo Wednesdays aren't really that cool.

-A fairy godmother that will arrange for someone else to clean my flat since I can't obviously be bothered. Or at least someone else to do everything I intended to do since I can't obviously be bothered to do that.

-A fairytale life where my fairy godmother would feel at home.

-More sleep would serve me well.
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Whoever got to this blog by searching

eye exam story underwear bra on Yahoo

Should I be worried about you? And how disappointed were you, really, to see that your search was pretty fruitless?
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In the year 2005 I resolve to: Take a chainsaw juggling class. Get your resolution here

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I can't sleep. I just lay here. Listening to the rain tink, clank, clink against the windows and the cars. The sunrise was filtered through grey clouds and the only warm light I can find emanates from my bedside lamp. I've been listening to the wind shuffle through the city. It whistles as it passes my windows. It feels like the entire city is tucked away in bed, quietly having a lie in this morning.

My eyes are droopy, but not heavy. My mind is settled, but not quiet. My limbs are lazy, but not relaxed.

I can't get one thought out of my head.

And it's about Romance.
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Late, as usual, eh? Penny Arcade's latest funny comic strip can be found in this week's link.
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At this hour, my brain has been mush for a while. Yet I persist in trying to sort out my laptop, organizing and re-sorting files. It's the easiest way to sort out something and not have to actually do anything of importance at the same time. It's an easy way to accomplish in name what I wanted to do this past weekend - organize and sort out my things. It's not really what I was aiming for in meaning, yet that doesn't matter so much.

With CNN or BBC news playing in the background, I'm passing the time, which should be occupied by sleep, by flipping through my bookmarks and old files, considering the use of the URLs or files and then spending an unnecessarily long amount of time reviewing each and every URL and file.

I've gone so far as to start a list of things that I need to do before resuming work sometime in the future. I've started a list, guys. It's all downhill from here. A list can be prioritized. It can be reviewed and things can be, god forbid, crossed off. I've come so close to actually doing something that I have every intention of doing during my vacation. The stars and planets are obviously aligning against me, as this NEVER happens.

I'm sure my karma will kick me in the ass soon and I'll come across some very reasonably useful excuse to procrastinate a little longer.

Come on, karma.
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Highlights of my thoughts for today:

Why is it that women tend to rest their head on men's shoulders? What's with the cliche? Watching a film today, I noticed that it seemed to be some sort of crescendo like moment when, in a taxi, a woman rested her head on her guy's shoulder. I know that I do it myself. I know that I only do it under certain circumstances - I have to like the guy quite a bit, I have to be comfortable with him, and it has to feel right.

For some reason, I'm thinking that I need to stop reading about the UK. And I should practice active avoidance when it comes to film and television when said film and television shows are set in the UK. I'm starting to recognize randomly occurring thoughts about how it would be such fun to live there.

Despite my incredible shopping skills of late, I am of the opinion that I have not nearly enough lacy or sexy garments. I'll have to remedy that.

I've actually really missed cooking and don't know what happened to put a small pause in my cooking habits. I've got to find the spice shop that sells Indian spices. I should likely get to the store to buy foodstuffs, however that requires it to be a weekday in this country.

I keep commenting that I really want another tattoo, but I haven't the faintest idea what I could possibly get done. I think that I might have convinced myself today that I don't need another tattoo.

Being open to suggestion from certain people, I started looking for a weekend vacation to take in the next couple of months. I commented to family on Christmas that I probably won't do much traveling in the next year, but why not? I can certainly afford the time it takes to get to another country for a weekend.

I didn't actually leave my flat today, but I do recall putting on my new perfume. I have yet to figure out what's wrong with me.

I think it might be a case of the crazies.
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