[phone ringing in background]
Lorelai: Aren’t you going to get that?
Michel: No. People are par-tic-ularly stewpid today.

(From some episode of Gilmore Girls. That’s all I know. Sue me.)

Sooooooooooo. Anyone wanna guess what mood I’m in today? As opposed to any other day? Winner gets to read the rest of this free of charge. The day started out sucky. Like I mentioned a day or so ago, it’s hot as hell right now, with temperatures in the muggy, soupy mid-80’s. Sweaters and jackets are out of the question, so everyone is walking around in short sleeves with pasty white arms exposed. Including me. Ewwww. And to add to the joy of the experience, mornings begin with the thickest, densest fog imaginable. You’d think, living down here, people would get stinkin’ used to fog. And do the bright, intelligent, commonsensical thing and turn their $#!!?*& lights on. But noooooooooo. So the entire morning is spent, by the intelligent portion of the driving community anyway, riding the friggin’ brakes and praying that we don’t hit someone. Or praying that if we do, they were stupid.

Then I get to work. Open the old e-mail inbox. There it is, right there. I should know before I open it that it’s bad news. The subject line starts with “FW:.” You know the drill: you open it, and sure enough, you have EVERYONE’s forwarding information, which you have to scroll through until you (a) reach the message, or (b) stop immediately and delete. Depending on who the e-mail is from, I do either (a) or (b). But this one was from a usual (a) person, one who usually sends interesting stuff. But not today. This e-mail, after eons of scrolling, was a warning that Nutrasweet will kill ya. And because it was written by “someone who is in the medical profession and I know,” people are forwarding it all over the place with great abandon. It took me about 15 seconds to run it through Snopes and declare it total b.s. Sent the Snopes link back to the sender and moved on. I think people up here hate me for that reason {{{smile}}}. Yep, I’m an e-mail bitch. You guys that read some of my earlier stuff know this already. Send me too much garbage and you become a (b) e-mailer. See, some people have such a reputation for lame e-mails that I immediately delete them without reading them.

Know what’s gonna kill me? It’s not gonna be the Nutrasweet. It’s gonna be due to the fact that I ruined all the muscles and tendons in my hand hitting the “delete” key, and then, when I tried to drive with my gimp hand, I pulled out into traffic in front of a stupid person that didn’t have their lights on in the fog.

P.S. (or whatever the “e-quivalent” of P.S. is), one of the guys that I’ve listed in my “links-to-other-bloggers” lost his best pal, Riggs, an adorable Old English Sheepdog, over the weekend. Stew does a great job with his posts, and his site is one of my favorites. But his posts of the last couple of days reflect how hard it’s been on him to lose his beloved pet. If you get a chance, go over to his site (“Get Stewed,” linked right) and give him cyberhugs. RIP, Riggs.

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