One of those "supposed to be short, but isn't," entries

It appears that I've let another set of days pass since my last entry. Maybe tomorrow/today I will write more.
However, the husband is feeling needy (He can be such a woman), and I've not given him much attention---not sex, you damned perverts, he's had some of that from me, anyway, but I digress---Apparently, between school, work with my lovely supervisor and some "less than effective" peers, AND my navel gazing (which I love to do by being completely uncommunicative to avoid appearing whiny), I've made him feel unimportant. If he were actually irrelevant, I would care less about it (I'd care, but just because I don't want people to think I'm a complete bitch), but I'm not a fan of miscommunication, so I need to make sure he knows how important he actually is.

To further unncessarily clarify, as far as the bitchiness goes, I don't mind if you think I am a bitch, as long as I feel I am acting appropriately. That's a tricky thing. I'm still honing the ability to not speak too quickly. Or speak before I have enough information. Nothing makes me feel like a bigger jackass than calling someone out when I'm just plain incorrect.
That being said, if you are being a douchebag or a twat, and I bring that to your attention by showing you how you are acting as such, I feel little remorse. I'm not likely to call you a douchebag or a twat (unless you're my friend, then you know I still love you), but you'll know that your actions are...less than what you are capable of. Or not. Some people, as I've recently discovered, really don't seem to be capable of behavior that doesn't reek of douchebaggery. But, as my favorite actor said once in a terribly underrated movie, "I blame the government."
Meh. It's a handy blame target. If Alan Rickman says it, it can't be all wrong. And dead sexy, to boot.

I really shouldn't write after consuming my new drink de la saison. Sugar free cocoa and peppermint schnapps, for the record...
Did I mention that I miss some of my oldest and dearest friends, when drinking? DID I?????
But. Alas. However. Insert conjunction word here: I do lose that pathological shyness that has plagued me (yes, really) my whole life, and am more than willing to tweet to (yes, Z, I use Twitter) strangers and am willing to have "meet-ups" with them, after drinking. This will happen, oh yes, it will happen.
Unfortunately, I have always been better on paper. HOWEVER, give me a beer, and I'm (less articulate, more slurry, but...) just as comfortable and willing to talk bullshit.
This seems to be turning every which way, isn't it?
My point is that I shouldn't try to be smart on the internet after drinking, but it sure is fun and I have a nice time talking to strangers. Oh, and for the one who may be reading this that knows me in real life...I MISS YOU GUYS!!!

Restless heaaaaaaaaart

I'm feeling rather restless tonight. There's a lot going on in my life, and yet, when I go to tell the tale, it seems so mundane. I guess I should clarify that I mean a lot going on at work. There's a bit of drama, a deliberate effort on the parts of many to avoid encouraging drama in she who thrives upon it, and a boss (a different she), who is, unequivocably, being cunty. Some people are married to their jobs, and I guess I can count myself among that population. Never mind the fact that my day is structured around it, as most people's are.
It's all very tiring and I long for some peace and quiet.
Add into the equation that I'm taking a course I positively loathe for the sake of a grad program I have all but been told to fuck off from, thus rendering the course utterly pointless, and you get a bit of malaise and irritability.
And yet...each day someone, somewhere, somehow makes me laugh. Often, that person is my spouse. And frequently, he isn't even trying. His perspective and way of phrasing things is so different from the status quo, and yet so often brilliant in its simplicity. He makes my world a better place each and every single day. Even when I want to bitch slap him for saying something so utterly horrible in its pun-laden goo, he succeeds in making me laugh so hard within moments. But I digress...
My point is that no matter how irritated I am by the drudgeries and fucktardedness of daily living, I am able to laugh. And that makes life worth living.

Has it been a week already?

So much for that Thanksgiving post, eh?
My marathon work week is almost up (8 days straight. Thanks, SuperBoss), and then I'm off to the inlaws to help decorate for Christmas (for the mother-in-law: Her self-chosen birthday gift from all her offspring)...or something. If I'm lucky, I'll play with the nieces and nephews and drink wine all day. As if.
It's the biggest clusterfuck ever. EVERY YEAR. I could write a novel about how (what most people consider) logic can escape my dear mother-in-law at times, but the outdoor Christmas decor really blows everyone's mind. EVERY YEAR. Do you see a trend here? Yet no one has the balls to just flat out take over and give her no input. And frankly, after knowing her and this family's dynamic, I know how and why. Still irritating.
For one of the few times in my life, I claim that this is a job for the boys to do, as I am a delicate flower. *snort* More like, I'm too damned short to be much help, too fat to have much endurance, and too impatient to work with the three brothers whose combined attention span and cooperative ability is about that of your average 9 year old. Individually, they're not TOO bad. Some are better than others. And my husband is NOT the worst one. I'll leave it at that. When they're together, trying to get anything accomplished with them is like herding cats. I'll probably have more to say (bitching), after the fact, but maybe not. I can be a fickle bitch when it comes to feeling like writing.
There are so many things about my in-laws that amuse, intrigue and impress me. Things they do that I wish I could claim my own family did. But those other things...I want to RUN RUN RUN and never look back. That's family for you.