Pulling into the station

March 21, 2005

Disappointment Numero Uno: I bought this radiowave highjacker thing for my iPod. Doesn't work. No, I mean the damn thing won't even turn on. God. Damn. It. Target had better take it back - I have ALL the crap that was in the package and the receipt. I know you're not supposed to return electronics once they've been opened, but the stupid little thing won't work. I tried a bunch of batteries, just in case the ones that came with it were duds. Nope. Nothing helped. See, this is what I get for going someplace other than the Apple Store for Marvin's goodies.

Disappointment Numero Dos: My friend who recently found out that she was pregnant may have had a miscarriage over the weekend. Her OB isn't very helpful in that they're making her wait a few days before they even check her blood. So sad because she was so happy that she had even managed to become pregnant. Ugh.

And it's happened. My friend is getting (re)married and she asked me to be a bridesmaid. This will be my first one. I told her of course I would - just as long as there are no poofy orange dresses. But it looks like they've nixed the City Hall idea and have gone back to a small ceremony. Guess I should think about going on a diet now. Bugger.

On Saturday, T and I went to the Mall (sure, the one day we go and the Apple Store is closed). We then enjoyed drinks at Tex Wasabis. And people, I had sushi. Yes. I did. Okay, it was made from chicken, not fish, but still. (They call it Gringo Sushi. Ha, get it?) We watched the weather go something like this: sunshine rain sunshine wind pouring rain sunshine wind sunshine. And in the span of about 45 minutes. It's really quite bizarre. One minute you see girls walking by in Daisy Dukes and flip flops, the next we are watching a woman try to flip her umbrella back into place because the wind made it pop out backwards. In anycase, I now have a little yellow plastic ninja on my VCR (he came in the drink) and I had sushi.

And yesterday... Well, see this is where I would put in a locked entry.

Damn you, Andrew.

Sadness on a Monday Mourning stopped here at 8:24 a.m.

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