My mid-40s drum teacher, on the phone.
That “little town” is where I was born and raised.
Me: “OK, let’s start by opening your web browser.”
Client: “Web browser? Oh, you mean Internet Explorer?”
Me: “Sure, that’ll work. Now you’re going to click on the web address window at the top of your browser and type in…”
Client: “Wait, wait, slow down. What do you mean by click?”
Me: “… like, click with your mouse button.”
Client: “Mouse button? What? Man, this is really confusing.”
Seems it’s about one in ten of these that actually seem realistic. This is trying too hard.
My boss just stopped by to let me know I did a kickass job cleaning up the epic content-heavy mess this agency left us with two days before a critical deadline.
I didn’t think it was possible to do in this short of time.
Head above the water. Great way to officially kickoff the weekend.
The Florida friend and the Richmond friend ran into each other just now in the SoCo area.
They had each other’s numbers and talked of meeting up later on after lunch… I just found that extra small-world-esque.
A third-party entity contracted a few months ago for an expedited, time-sensitive project set to launch Monday dropped the ball on us today.
It’s a very content-heavy ball.
I’m trying not to vomit.
…about late-night laundry.
The washer and dryer is at the end of a shared, uniquely manicured garden courtyard and everything’s really quiet and still.
While I’m actually on the fence about having my chinchilla here (she gets way more attention and time with people at my parents’ house than she ever would with my schedule, and I like that my empty-nest syndrome mom has something to dote on and pay attention to) I just realized my parents’ road trip here next month means I’ll have my piano.
Now I can cross “piano” off my spending priorities, move “bike” to the top of the list, and “drum lessons” is checked off starting next Thursday.
I posted the Brewskee-ball photo to my FB and moments later my friend John, an old housemate and a Brooklyn-via-Fort Lauderdale friend who tended bar at Poorhouse in downtown Fort Lauderdale, writes, “Do you know where I work?”
He’s a bartender at Full Circle bar in Brooklyn, the bar where Brewskee-ball leagues were born… where I dream of maybe (if I don’t bow out next season from the toll it takes on my nerves) rolling in the national championships.
Tiniest. World. Ever.
- Me: Is it a motivational poster?
- Her: IT'S A FUCKIN MURAL
- Her: THAT SAYS REACHING NEW HEIGHTS
- Me: lawllllllll
- Her: no it gets worse.
- Me: whose desk is back there by it?
- Her: lol the ppc people
- Her: so anyway
- Her: I don't know if you can tell but there's pics on the wall
- Her: so on friday they took our pics and said they were for the newsletter
- Her: OH NO
- Her: they blew them up and put them in illuminated frames.
- Me: Ha.
- Her: and we are all doing dumb shit
- Her: (see text)
- Her: so I picked a seat right in the front by the doors so I can see who is coming in and basically the way that it's set up no one can see my screen
- Her: EXCEPT
- Her: there's a TV screen above the door, and on the other side
- Her: which is going to flash our screens every 20 seconds
- Me: wait what