Every Friday, they would play "Workin' For the Weekend" by Loverboy.

Yech.

So now I think of that song every damn Friday when it's time to leave work.

I was not a big cartoon watcher as a kid, so I hated that damn show. But my most hated 80s cartoon of all would have to be Bananaman. My brother loved that show. My mom and I loathed it.

If you want to jog your memory about long-forgotten 80s TV shows, check this out. I thought the only person who remembered the show Manimal was my friend Colin. I guess I was wrong about that...Manimal fanfic, anyone?

If I had thought of some of those names, I would have a band by now. Who wouldn't want to join a band called Too Proud to Practice?

Whoa. Interrupt. I thought I was seeing black spots from staring out the window at the sun while I was typing but it's a little tiny spider coming down from the ceiling in front of my monitor. Excuse me, spider, have you no decency whatsoever? You made me think that my already miserable vision was deteriorating even further. Get out from in front of my monitor and go elsewhere.

Okay, now back to where I was before. He has a mixtape where he has a Belle and Sebastian song and a Jackson 5 song. I rock out to the Jackson 5. So I think that is cool. I'm more of a "The Love You Save" girl, but "I Want You Back" is a good choice as well. Ooh, and "Parades Go By" by the Magnetic Fields. That was my other possibility for a title for this thing.

I hate the midlifecrisismobile almost as much as I hate the SUV and the slow-ass minivan and the redneck truck from hell. The best thing is when you pass a midlifecrisismobile and the guy's bald spot is sunburnt. Har.

Then the next day, she writes this, which was all too familiar with me, except it's something I've always been afraid to say because I don't want to hurt people's feelings or lose friends by simply stating the truth as I see it. I was one of the vanishing women for a while, and I almost lost a lot of friends because of it. Matt used to tease me about going to visit Ray a couple of times a month, but back in the Greg days I never saw my friends on the weekends. Never.

It's always so embarassing after the fact to realize that you did that, that you vanished. Especially when you pride yourself on *not* being that sort of person.

If you don't have Flash, well, I can imagine that it wouldn't be cool at all.

I'm trying my damnedest to stay awake and it isn't working so well. I caught myself nodding off at least three times today. Not good. And I have to stay half an hour late to make up for the half an hour I missed earlier today. Yay.

I was up late last night having a chat with Ray about, well, about shit I'd rather not chat about. Relationshit. Stuff that only hurts more the more you analyze it. The hours just flew by--it seemed like the computer quacked the hour every two minutes. Apparently, time flies when you are not having fun. I went to bed around 1:30 AM on the night before a day where I absolutely had to be at work on time for my departmental meeting.

I dragged my ass out of bed at the ungodly hour of 6:50 AM. I put on clothes, ate a handful of Munchkins, told my mom I couldn't talk because I had a meeting, and took off to the car, which, for some stupid reason, I had left parked on the street last night instead of moving it into the driveway. I put in Disc 3 of the Magnetic Fields 69 Love Songs and took off.

It was the first time I had made it out of my house before 7:45 AM since, well, since the last departmental meeting a month ago.

"Busby Berkeley Dreams" was cranked, I had the windows down, and then I heard the sound. I turned down the stereo and it sounded like a flat tire. Then I smelled the smell. Yep. The tire was flat.

I called home, called work, asked one of my co-workers to come down and put on the donut tire (I watched him do it so I think I can do it myself next time!) and had him follow me to the tire store.

Then I came to work and thought I had lost my favorite red copyediting pen. It turned out that the pen was sitting in my outbox along with my departmental meeting notes. Oh, and my boss got stuck in New York so the meeting is postponed until next week. So it doesn't really matter that I was 38 minutes late this morning.

I'm worried that I'm going to go home tonight to find that my house has been destroyed and replaced with an apartment building populated by only hip and attractive young people in their 20s who laze about doing hip and attractive young people things. Either that, or the next season of the Real World will be taking place in my home and I'll have people with video cameras watching me take a crap.

I was disappointed (but not surprised) to notice that a lot of the people listed were people I really didn't like. The girl who picked on me relentlessly in gym class my sophomore year was signed up, and I had to resist the urge to email her to ask if she still wore her hair in that charming late 80s-early 90s "hair wings" style. I also found an array of old high school friends who I had gone to great lengths to avoid after high school--friends who wanted to stay friends forever, but I just wasn't interested. These were the people who kept sending me invitations to parties and baby showers even when I hadn't spoken to them in several years.

Then last night, I got a message from someone at highschoolalumni.com. I went over to check it out, and the biggest freak (and I don't mean that as a compliment) in my graduating class had messaged me. It was one of those "I think I remember you, do you remember me?" type of messages.

It was hard not to respond "Duh, of course I remember you. We were in plays together, and nobody wanted to do your makeup because you were so damn weird it was creepy."

He told me that his high school nickname was "Smiles" or "Grinny" or something like that. Which makes sense, because he always had this bizarro smirk on his face.

I don't think I'll be emailing him back.

It was exciting for the first half hour or so, but after that, it just got annoying. You can only sit around doing nothing for so long before it gets really, really tedious.

"What a crazy idea!" I thought. "Putting mustard and mayonnaise in the same jar. That's kinda gross!"

Then I found this. But is it mayostard or mustardayonnaise?

I think I should send free samples to everyone who would get the Mr. Show reference.

I have been known to sit and watch the Weather Channel for hours on end when it's storming. Yes, I know they repeat the same stuff over and over again in predictable cycles. That doesn't matter.

The sky is yellow right now. I'm not kidding. Yellow and grey with rumbles of thunder off in the distance. So I hopped on over to the ol' Weather Channel site to see when the big one is gonna hit.

While I was there, I decided to check out their Storms of the Century thing...and I found a bit about my favorite tornado ever, the Tri-State tornado. I watched an hourlong show about the Tri-State tornado once, and I was so freaked out about it that I had a hard time sleeping.

Hmph. I should wrap this up before the power goes out. I was going to go out for lunch but that looks like a pretty stupid idea now.