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It's six o'clock in the morning right now, and I've already been awake for twenty minutes. On one hand, I really want to pitch myself into bed and go right back to sleep. On the other hand, I also want to exercise and take a shower, and amazingly enough, I can't go back to sleep if I do that.

In other news, I love missnegativity because there's now zombies on dead_earth. You realize, of course, that all we need now is a giant asteroid and a mass religious culling by an unnamed higher being and a very battered planet is going to take her ball and go the hell home.

In a related story, I should not have been half as relieved as I just was when I checked the Hoffman's schedule for this weekend and Shaun of the Dead was on it. I'd say I was setting the bar too high with my expectations, but I'd also say that last weekend I saw Wimbledon, whose only good attribute was that Paul Bettany has lickable hipbones and now I have proof.

EDIT: I write so much better when I have a title to work with, and the best title I've come up with so far for the TroNoWriMo story is "Fighting Evil on Minimum Wage". *sigh* Back to the drawing board, it seems.

Random morning anecdote

Inspired by this metaquotes post ...

For those of you who don't know, a few years back when I was desperate for money, I worked as a telemarketer. Yeah, I know. My seat in hell's all nice and reserved.

So, anyway, one day there were three of us working on a credit-card project in the same row, all of us women. The first woman in the row had her computer connect her to this guy who, as soon as she started in on the spiel that marked her as a telemarketer, asked what color underwear she was wearing. Since we weren't being listened in on at the time, she threw all caution to the wind and said, "Oh, the cutest little lacy red thong panties which I bought with my Juniper Bank Mastercard ..." Aaaaaaand then went right into her script.

What made this whole thing twice as funny was that while she had a voice like the world's most successful phone sex operator, she was an extremely physically unattractive (albeit very nice and very funny) middle-aged woman.

But it got better, because the guy hung up on her, so she scheduled him for an immediate callback and disconnected her phone, so that the computer of the next woman in the queue called him again.

Again, as soon as he realized she was a telemarketer, and one working for the same company, he asked again what color underwear she was wearing. She was a little flustered, because she hadn't thought she was getting the callback, but she blurted out, "Great big white granny panties that I bought with my Juniper Bank Mastercard --"

Again, click. Again, another immediate callback and another disconnect.

This time, I got the callback, and he asked me what color underwear I was wearing. So I said, "What underwear?"

I would have gotten into the credit card pitch, but we all (including the guy on the phone) had gotten to the point where we were laughing so hard we couldn't finish.

And then there was the one I got the first week I was working at the telemarketing place. The computer dialed this woman in California who sounded as if she couldn't get any higher without NASA spacewalking equipment, and as soon as she realized I was a telemarketer, she asked me my name and my age, and then interrupted me to start in on this nice, mellow rant about how I wasn't going to have good things come back to me if I continued in this line of work, that no one would give me love, and that I needed to examine my inner goals.

Ooookay. My inner goals are to pay my bills. I have a job ... therefore, I am accomplishing those goals.

People who get toked up at 3 o'clock in the afternoon on a Wednesday do not have the right to tell me that my crappy job sucks. Unless, of course, they were the guy I was dating at the time, who looked like a shorter Jake Foley. Mmm. He was cute. :)

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You know what I want? An animated icon that says, "Fuck you, the horse you rode in on, the guy who made the saddle, and the little girl who fed it apples."

Then again, I'd have to find pictures to go with it. And learn how to make animated icons.

I also need to sneak that line into the TroNoWriMo story, because man, is that fun to say out loud to someone. :)

EDIT: Yesterday I saw a woman not much younger than me who had to be approaching some kind of low body fat record. I approve of anyone who makes me look chesty, but at the same time, I also approve of sandwiches, and food in general. (And before anybody thinks I'm jumping to conclusions, five girls at a bus stop, none of whom weigh more than I do -- and I weigh in at a oh-so-"hefty" 125 pounds, give or take -- should not stand around comparing their diets. *gags*)

GIP! (courtesy of naewinter)

Because God knows I need it for this post.

( Why I am going to throttle the Town Crier and the Glorified Optimist. )