(Insert clever title here)

I've got two more days until my sabbatical. I'm a contractor, you see, and I happily permalanced for four years before I had to sign up with an employment agency somewhere in New Jersey. Part of the contract terms is that I have to take 60 days off (with no pay) every two years so I have no rights to demand benefits from the company I work for. I was perfectly happy with my hours and rate. Stupid Microsoft contractors spoiling it for the rest of us who didn't mind mutually exploitative work situations.

So I'm downtiming and counting down the days until my Spring Break, which, after my Kick Me, Inc. day, I'm totally looking forward to. I've been too stressed out to write long-form, but silly things have been happening lately.

* My Tandy 2000-era PC at work was upgraded recently. I lost all my e-mail contacts and was surprised that it saved my Internet Explorer favorites. Except for one, my link to the employment agency in New Jersey that I need to enter my time each week. I had it saved as "Pimpsite." I resaved it as "Evil (company name)." Evil, apparently, confirms to corporate standards and pimp does not.

* I took a stretch limo to Trader Joe's in a Boston suburb in search of water and a toothbrush.

* The chain in our one toilet broke Monday night, so we had to reach in and manually pull up the thingy that releases water. Tuesday morning, I got carded for cigarettes, so that evened things out. I was wearing a hat and big sunglasses, and the clerk was at least 70 and wearing coke-bottle glasses, but still...

* I had my headshot and video shoot for the paper last Thursday. I had an outfit involving a fitted, short-sleeved, black button-up shirt in mind. So on Wednesday night, I went to Old Navy first because I cashed in credit card rewards points for a gift card a while back. Everything was rouched and girlier than what I had in mind. So I went to Express, The Limited, Gap, Banana Republic and Belk with no luck. Went back to Express and settled on a long-sleeve that I could roll up. The helpful associate sent me to the dressing room with a small (she was small and cruel), medium and large. I tried on the medium and the shoulders were way too big and the middle button was straining not to pop off over the girls. I am grossly misshapen.

Woke up Thursday morning and tried on a million outfits before settling on a total slacker outfit of skinny jeans and Converse. Rushed out the door to get my hair and makeup done and broke a fingernail. Had to turn around and chop them all off. Then I forgot to take the Beltine and ended up on the highway and got lost in the suburbs. I don't know most of my friends' phone numbers by heart, but my stylist's number is permanently embedded in my brain. Unfortunately, my cell phone was on its charger at the house.

* I told my rock-star buddy the reason I could never be a lesbian is because women talk incessantly about feelings and it works my nerves. She laughed and affirmed that I am a guy in a straight woman's body.

* I was minding my own business in line at the self-serve Chick-Fil-A across from my office today when I sensed a close-stander behind me. Turned around and saw no one at first, then I glanced down and saw the little person two inches from my leg. Said little person then totally broke in front of me and got a salad from the cooler. As she was struggling to reach the croutons on top of the cooler, I stepped right around her and reclaimed my spot, thinking, "Don't mess with me right now, midget." Yes, I am going to hell.

* Steve and I went to Shallotte for Easter weekend. My mama was talking about a relative who she considered a genius and told us, "You two are intelligent, but you aren't geniuses."

* I saw a ridiculous, yellow, tricked out, lesser American sports car in front of my building. Emblazoned in a tacky script font across the front bumper was "Street Reacing."

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

This concludes tonight's rant. I'll be writing a lot during my sabbatical, but if I become mellow and start talking about the moon in June, e-mail me and tell me to snap the hell out of it.

Your pal-
Leigh Ann