Tenth Musee

Yet another glimpse into a work day…

Joelle: So, have you ever caught yourself doing like some weird dance and then thought, “what the hell?” and looked around like someone was watching you?

Kathy: hahahaha.  yes. all the time.

Joelle: I was just totally doing a funky dance at my desk

Kathy: I did one earlier when i got out of the shower lol

Joelle: was it like a funky chicken or like a roger rabbit? cabbage patch? hustle? or just your own interpretive dance?

Kathy: it was kind of a version of a roger rabbit but with less oomph

Joelle: lol! mine was kind of a combo of the Snake and that 70’s dance where they look like they’re hitchiking. Kind of like a hand-jive, I guess.

Kathy: I was just doing the chair bounce as we speak

Joelle: sometimes it’s just the neck

Joelle: *neck*

Kathy: HAHAHAHHA *neck*

Kathy: speaking of… i need some actual music to do this to

Joelle: wait, you had no music?!

Kathy: no hahahaha

Joelle: truly the beat of your own drum, sister.  *neck*

So, it’s possible you’re thinking we’re a little weird or just found out you’re not alone.  Surely we’re not the only ones who’ve done this.  So… what’s your “move”? 

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Joelle: is it too early for beer?

Kathy: no

Kathy: its 1:27pm here, that counts.

(about 20 minutes passes)

Kathy: did we decide if its ok to have beer?

Joelle: we did.

Kathy: so its “Miller” time then

Joelle: *cheers*

Cheers to you, too. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday weekend. Be safe. 

Just now, during our usual “I just mailed your Christmas preseeeeeeeent!” tease we do every year.

Joelle: I think you’re going to be really happy with your gift. It’s solely for you, it indulges no one else but you. It’s for you to totally enjoy and tell everyone else to piss off.

Kathy: do i need to open it in private? my parents will be here.  hahahaha!

Joelle: no. lol. it’s all G-rated

Kathy: ok, just checking before I open a giant rubber fist in front of my mother.

Well, shoot! There goes her birthday gift.  *sigh*

To preface this snippet of a post-code victory conversation with Deltus this morning, I had to first share with you our Yahoo messenger avatars.

Joelle: well, you will always be our hero.  thank you for all you do, Deltus.

Deltus: Welcome.

Deltus: Just, put in a good word for my avatar with your avatar, k?

Joelle: I’ll see what I can do.

Deltus: Kathy’s avatar, btw, said your avatar is a slut.

Joelle: that’s ok, her avatar has crabs

Deltus: My avatar hadn’t heard that.

Joelle: really? I heard her avatar got it from some new avatar in beta.

Joelle: you never know where they’ve been.

Deltus: Her avatar would be the good, proper choice for my avatar to want to go out with.  It would make my mom’s avatar very happy.  But it’s your avatar he really wants.

Deltus: My mom’s avatar would not be as pleased.

Then, a few minutes later:

Kathy: My avatar told Deltus’ avatar your avatar got the clap from this guy:

Joelle: You bitch!  That was supposed to be our secret!

I fully realize no one may be amused by that exchange other than the three of us, but it’s Monday.  I’ll take amusement where I can get it.

While taking a little break to do some online holiday shopping, I spent a few minutes salivating over the Vosges truffles with Kathy.

Kathy: dude. chocolate. of. the. month. club.

Joelle: see, every woman should have that. that is the perfect gift.

Kathy: it should be given to you at birth.

Joelle: right? or like, for your first period.

Joelle: it should be a right of passage.

Can you imagine?  After your mom (or whomever) gives you a moderately uncomfortable Talk about the Birds and the Bees, followed by a truly horrifying tampon demonstration, she presents you with a congratulatory gift… of chocolate.  It seems the least one could do, as really, it’s more of a consolation prize.  “You get to bloat, bleed, whine and otherwise act like total psychopath once a month until you’re 50.  Mazeltov!”

I’d take it, though — I’m not stupid.

Kathy, on baby showers:

Kathy: Can’t we just show up with our shitcan genie and get drunk? lol

I don’t know about you, but we are of the firm belief that baby showers should be open bar.

So last night, Kathy and I were on IM reminiscing about the “old days” when we first started blogging… when we first met back in 2003.  Awww.  Kathy pulled out a bunch of photos of this giant inflatable party penis I sent her in the mail.  WHY I sent her a giant inflatable party penis, I have no idea.  She sent me a tiara.  But anyway, I did and hilarity ensued, which you can check out on Kathy’s blog.  Bear in mind, that was back in 2004 or so.  When you’ve designed 200 blogs in a year with practically no day off, that’s what happens.

So last night,after she posted her entry, I noticed her stylesheet wouldn’t load.  For those of you looking at me like I have an extra head on backwards, it means all the “pretty” was missing.  It was just a plain black and white site that looked all crazy. And this is the conversation that followed:

(And yes, we’re total blasphemers. You’ll get over it.  )

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Before, our work days usually began with something along the lines of “Good morning, shithead.” followed by a “Good morning, asshole.” (in the most endearing sort of way, I swear.) Then we’d do email.

Now, it goes a little something like this…

Kathy: i smell poop

Kathy: i have poop on me somewhere

Ah, motherhood.  Take a whiff.

kathy’s status is now “Tony Bennett – My Favorite Things”. (11/29/2004 10:15 AM)

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kathy: My Favorite Things

kathy: is NOT A XMAS SONG

kathy: ASSHOLES

Aaaaaaaaamen. Who decided this was a Christmas song, anyway? I try to be all zen and holiday-like about it when I hear it, but it quietly irks me every time.  From a musical.  Not a Christmas song.  Bah. Humbug.

kathy: we had a tile crisis

me: snakes again?

kathy: yeah

kathy: snakes with feet

me: Oooooooooh

me: you mean lizards!

kathy: and then the number 15 washer showed up

me: really?

kathy: yeah

me: did you put the snakes in it?

kathy: yep, on the spin cycle

me: excellent. that should make for some nice tile.

kathy: very authentic

I am so easily amused.