Tying Up Loose Ends

1. So, it turns out that my dad does not have a particularly drug-resistant form of gout, but has a torn ligament in his ankle, which is reparable by surgery, which he will have when he can figure out how to time it so that it will not fuck with his vacation, but provide the maximum amount of time he can have my mom spoil him before she goes back to teaching in the fall. 2. I never did get the photo of the Shill in the 1/2 Marathon as me. That's too bad. But the Butcher did tell one of his friends that I ran it and she was so amazed that I'd ran it faster than her that she was making a big deal out of it to everyone. So, I had to tell her that, of course, I don't do my own stunts. 3. The fucking Professor is in San Juan, so I have no one I can just call up and be like "Dude, let's get something to eat and try to figure out who is more misunderstood--Nietzsche or Foucault. Then, let's try to figure out whose fans are bigger jackasses." 4. At work, we get our phone bills every month and we have to go through and mark our personal calls and pay for them. I haven't done this since February of last year. I have no idea what's up my butt about this. I don't make a lot of personal calls at work, so every month, it's just like 80 cents, but I can't get around to it, ever. I finally did it today and I owe $17. Which I don't have. I'm so lame. 5. I've been learning to knit and, god, I fucking hated it so much I was about to just give up on it and declare that the baby blanket I'm working on was actually a skirt for a very short, very stout doll and go back to crocheting. Then, I figured out that I was putting the yarn on my purl stitches wrong, thus making it infinitely more difficult than it needed to be. Now, I'm kind of getting into it. 6. We apparently have a little girl in the neighborhood now. I see her on her bike sometimes and Mrs. Wigglebottom and I keep seeing Pagan Goddess Barbie all naked with grass and flowers in her hair on concrete base of the post for the power line. If only I had a camera, I would have taken a picture of it for y'all. 7. Though we feminists are supposedly the man-haters, I keep seeing this appalling thing all over town. Women of Nashville, if you are going to bitch about how much your husbands/boyfriends suck, how stupid they are, how lazy and worthless, etc. please, Please, send your sons elsewhere. Give them a dollar to go get some candy. Send them to the swings. Something. Egad.