Don't call me Loretta

My cat and I play this game every morning whereupon at the exact moment I have finished cleaning out his litterbox, he jumps in and does his business. And he does it with such a smug, satisfied look on his face, spraying as much litter on the the floor as possible as he leaps out of the box. I try and wait later and later each morning, hoping just once to outsmart him so then I could feel all superior, but alas, it has not yet happened. Maybe I need to set some different long term goals for myself, besides other than being smarter than my cat. I’ll keep you updated on the important situation.


Today my boss referred to me as “the girl”. As in, “I’ll have the girl take care of that.” Must. Resist. Urge. To. Kill. Boss. He usually refers to women in the office as “Loretta” because he can’t be bothered to remember names. So he’ll shout out of his office to me, “Get Loretta on the phone for me!” at which point I sigh heavily and wonder about starting a career in the fast paced world of tv/vcr repair or one of those other jobs that Sally Struthers tells me I can train at home for on those late night infomercials.


2002-06-07 at 9:50 a.m.