kellementology

Tuesdays haven’t exactly been my favorite day of the week. That probably isn’t news to anyone, because they most likely will agree — unless they’re hopeless optimists and dupe themselves into the “well, we’re one more day closer to the weekend” game.

The only thing Tuesday really has going for it is that it’s a day to celebrate that everyone survived Monday. Barely. Tuesday used to be close to having a glimmer of fame recently because we media bottom dwellers all waited, roped into submission, expectantly wondering how the remaining contestants would faire on American Noodle. But alas, it no longer matters. We’re down to the nubbins on the show with only two final contestants getting ready to sing tonight. Yes, my butt will be on the sofa, and I’ll be watching and listening — but it’s a toss up as to who actually gets the most tweener votes — Blake or Jordin — Jordin or Blake. Eenie, meenie, miney, moe… Hopefully, the show will be entertaining. Maybe I’ll keep a tally on how many nebulous adjectives Paula uses, or how many times Simon rolls his eyes. Yah. That would be news. But hey! There’s always the Coke commercial, right?

Tuesday is a day to weigh-in, too, but I’m putting that off until tomorrow because I forgot to pack the orange stickies that grace my bathroom mirror for our weekend get away. Good thing, because with the lighting in the Stage Coach Inn, I wouldn’t have been able to see them anyway. Does “orange-streaked make-up on her face” get the point across effectively? Lovely. So we’ll deal with my on-going scale saga tomorrow. Wednesday’s a better day of the week anyway. Don’t you think? Half way there, and all that crap? I’m not sure about half way to what, but still. It’s more optimistic. See?

So I’m going to take care of a few responsibilities today since there’s no reason to leave the house. The sky is STILL grey, so what’s the point? Instead, I’ll:

• Finish that Daring Baker’s Challenge. Yes. Finish. It’s in the freezer because I had to go to Monterey and couldn’t finish. I can’t tell you what I’m making because it’s a secret until we all (45+ of us) finish and post our entries. Check it out on this Sunday. I guarantee your eyeballs will pop out. Does 400 points on Weight Watchers create an effective image for you?
• Yell obscenities at my monitor. Finish up a couple of projects I’ve started on Photoshop. I’m really trying to love Photoshop, but it’s really challenging. It’s not the warm and fuzzy software I’d like it to be. I’m sure I’ll get over it, but not until I’ve thrown my monitor out the window a few times.
• Temp fate again. Avoid the transfer of the photos from my hard drive onto an external hard drive so I don’t lose them like I did the last five years’ worth. Yes. There’s a sign on my forehead that says “STOOPID.” And you don’t have to tell me that from what you’ve seen, the photos aren’t much to lose anyway, right? Sheesh.
• Write a letter sounding like it came from a sane person. I feel compelled to question why the health insurance I applied for was accepted, but for a higher premium (for me alone)because my “endometriosis treated with complete hysterectomy” is considered a risk factor and I have to be “sign, symptom, and treatment free for six months” before I can reapply for the original coverage I applied for. You know — I could be wrong, but, after you’ve had organs removed, aren’t things just a tad different? And what the hell is “treatment?” I don’t even take aspirin. I did see that Moore has another movie at the Cannes film festival — this one on the health system here in the USA…Goodness knows there shouldn’t be much to slam there, right?
• Clean the microwave. Teaching the RT to do it would take way too long. Way. I’d like to say that this trusty appliance is coated with remnants of bernaise sauce, or mushrooms sauteed in green garlic and white truffle oil, but no. By the looks of it, the RT would need a hammer and chisel to extract various frozen burrito droppings and pizza explosions that have accumulated over the past week, and that now vaguely resemble a brown mass of volcanic material. No, a bit of baking soda won’t help this one. Or a warm cucumber…Huh? Ahem… I’m thinking Draino might do the trick. I will don my goggles before attempting this at home. Your microwave is clean, right? You don’t have a teenager yet? Feh.
  
  Microsludge
• Grill the RT about The Geometry Teacher’s class. The year is drawing to a close, and there’s still a question about whether he’ll squeak by with even a “C.” He’s been going to tutoring after school — free — and provided by older kids who actually like math, and who have survived The Geometry Teacher’s class. Although I’ve been tempted to sneak down there to see if he’s really going to the library to get help, I’ve successfully resisted. Chalk it up to another life lesson for him. When the hoops are placed in front of you, even if you don’t like them, don’t want them, or don’t think there’s a pot of gold at the end of them, you still have to act like you’re interested in jumping through them. Otherwise, they multiply like rabbits. After all — everyone needs The Geometry Teacher’s content in their lives and careers, right?
• Erase old DVR’d shows. Since I haven’t watched daytime TV in a few months now, I really should get rid of the 900 reruns of What Not to Wear. Sorry Stacy and Clinton. I love you, but I have far too many things on my list to confirm that I would be a great candidate for your show.

   Ohhhhhh… Tuesday, dear Tuesday, I love yah, ol’ Tuesday, you’re always a week away…..