My Condition Has A Name!

I heard a great term the other day (and by "heard" I mean "read on someone's blog") - it's called Bargain Tourettes.  OMFGALAHAOLOAHAALOL.  When I read it, it was as if the clouds parted and the light from heaven shone down on me like an epiphanous dream.  I finally knew the name of one of my worst habits: spontaneously blurting out the price and location of purchase of any piece of clothing I receive a compliment on.

 

For instance (and this is almost identical to the blog that I heard this term on, a blog that I have since forgot, otherwise I would be giving undying praise for such a term):

 

Coworker:  "Cute top!"

Me: "Thanks! Sears, $12.99 with 30% off, so like, less than ten bucks!"

 

And then, of course:

 

Me: "I don't typically shop at Sears, but I parked there when I went to the mall, you know, cuz there's more open spots because WHO SHOPS AT SEARS, but as I was walking through the store to get to the mall, it caught my eye, and I was like 'You know what? I can buy a top at Sears!' so I bought it! And it was less than ten bucks!"

 

Coworker is already walking down the hall to escape my horrible case of B.T.

 

Can't say I really blame her...

 

But who's with me - do you have a case of Bargain Tourettes?

My Poinsetta is still alive and kicking, a good 2+ months after I got it. My plant is better than yours.

Fwd: Congratulations!

Because my maiden name is the most common, I get tons of emails from people intending to reach another Lindsay Smith.  I was lucky enough to nab the lindsay.smith email address at a popular email site at the site's inception.  So I get tons of email for people trying to reach lindsay.smith1 or lindsay.smith2, you get the idea.

This email below is so precious that I thought I'd share. Usually the emails are something along the lines of "Study Group - meeting at the library at 7!" or "Hey it was great meeting you last night!" in which case I snicker that the schmuck either 1.) got a fake email address from a girl, or 2.) is a doof who didn't write down the email address correctly.  Either way, I always end up replying to let them know of their mistake.

 

I wish everyone had a Grandpa Opal.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: <AnEmailAddress@aol.com>
Date: Thu, Feb 19, 2009 at 6:08 PM
Subject: Congratulations!
To: MyEmailAddress@email.com


Dear Granddaughter,

     Congratulations!  What exciting news you had to send Sunday morning.  I am delighted that you have found such a nice young man to be your life long companion.  I wish you much happiness.

     I had a fall here at home last Sat.AM.  I had a problem with my right arm.  It is better but now I am having trouble with my back.  I'm just an old clumsy has been.

     You will be having a birthday the day before Easter.  Hope it will be a happy one.Looking forward to seeing you in a few weeks.

     Love always,
     Grandma Opal

Woo-Woo

I am just now remembering my dream from two nights ago. I was in line waiting to play a game-show type game, with the top prize being this totally decorated new house.  House included.  Tom Cruise was in line in front of me, he was behind the first person. The stars were not aligned for this first person, as he didn't win the house. Tommy Boy went up next, waved his hand over the seam of the door, flicked his finger along the handle (dreams aren't supposed to make sense, are they?), and won the house. His joyous response was to dance ala "Tropic Thunder" and all of a sudden the Ludacris song started playing out of thin air and he started dancing like Les Grossman. I was so pissed he won that house, I couldn't even enjoy the dancing. Then I woke up, and started thinking about getting new curtains.

Currently Stressing Me Out:

My work email has 4600 emails in my "sent mail" that need to be filed, discarded, or followed-up on. That number is so intimidating, I keep ignoring it. But - it has got to be done. My email is on the brink of collapse. Clean it out, or lose it all.

 

I'm thinking back to the days of yore, to a time when I had a daunting task ahead of me and a timeline to boot -- write a term-paper at the end of my study-abroad stay in Dublin, Ireland. No paper, no credit. The survival tactic then?  A 40 of Irish Cider in the computer lab with me to get me through it all.  Unfortunately, I don't think that will fly this time.

 

I guess a machine-bough coffee will have to suffice.