My boyfriend forwarded this email to me that he received from human resources:

"We will be changing ALL plants within the building over the next few weeks. We will attempt to make this a smooth transition however you may be without a plant for a few weeks so please be patient."

I hope he survives the wait.

It's a toss up between "you need more batteries" and "I think somebody's gonna get close to vomiting". Totally unrelated comments, thankfully.

The day was rather LOL-less. In fact, I spent most of it thinking that I'd like to stab various people with steak knives. But there was one point at lunch when Jay remembered a college speech class from 1996.

The class was given an assignment to read something into a recorder to improve their speaking voices. Most people read things like the front page of the newspaper, a page of a textbook, the class syllabus. But then one girl stood up. She had curly red hair (like "Annie"); giant glasses; a sleeveless, down-stuffed ski jacket zipped all the way to her chin; and moon boots (that her jeans were tucked into). She had a voice as soothing as Martina Navratilova's. And she proceeded to read a poem she wrote, called Touch Me, Boy (Yeah, You Know How).

I'm absolutely in love with my sexagenarian French professor. Each class he makes the most hilarious jokes - sometimes in English, often in French, but always with incredible joie de vivre. Sadly, only a few of the students in my class seem to understand his sense of humour.

Today, for example, the word for 'parking ticket' popped up in the dialogue we were reading - 'une contravention' - and so he decided to impart to us an interesting bit of French culture information.

"In French," he said, "sometimes we use a lovely little metaphor to describe a parking ticket. We call it 'un papillon' because when it is placed under the windshield wiper of your car, it looks like a butterfly." He even drew a little diagram on the chalkboard to illustrate this.

And then in his darling Parisian accent he said, "But this metaphor is interesting because I don't think you would be in a very poetic state of mind if you got un papillon, now would you?"

LOL! Professeur Bodolec, comment je t'adore!

I only wish there had been something LOLworthy at work yesterday or today. Although, after one interaction with a co-worker, I thought to myself, "If Betty White is sick of your shit, what makes you think I'm any different?" Which made me smile a little, because I was picturing Betty walking in with a gun and, well, making my day easier.

I was told by someone who placed their laptop on top of a domed trash can (because there was no place to sit down to check their email) that they "tried everything (they) could to catch the computer, but it wouldn't stop until it broke on the floor."

I had no idea the laptop was THAT determined? Were there any warning signs? Was it depressed, then suddenly cheerful? Did it give way most of it's perephrials in the weeks prior to? Was there a note left behind?

There will be a closed casket service. Donations should be sent to the Don Rickles Syndrome foundation, you Hockey-Puck.