I have to pee so freaking badly and the bathroom closest to my desk is closed for cleaning.  DAMN IT!  Do these people not know that my bladder has needs? 

Yeah, yeah, I know I could walk down the hall or go upstairs to pee, but then something terrible might happen.  People will see me walking into their bathroom and assume I have to poop because I’m not using the bathroom closest to my desk.  Then the rumors will start and everyone will think that I poop at work! 

That’s horrible!  I’d rather have people say that I date trainees and blow people in my cubicle.  At least that’s true.

I seriously am about to pee in my pants.  Maybe soon I’ll be known as the girl who peed in her pants on her birthday.

You know what I love more than anything else in this world (with the possible exception of peen)?  My birthday!  And guess what?  It just happens to be my birthday TODAY!  That’s right!  Yay for me!

I never understood those people who didn’t care for their birthdays and getting older.  Just don’t get it.  I’m one of those annoying people who will give countdowns of shopping days until my birthday and then when the day comes, I’ll inform everyone that it’s my birthday. 

I’ve had friends that got all upset because their friends/family forgot their birthdays.  That will never in a million year happen to me.  If someone claims to have forgotten my birthday, I know they will be lying through their teeth because it’s impossible. 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and make some major announcements about my birthdays to my coworkers.

Oh, and I’m 36 by the way.  I’m not like my sister who has been turning 17 for the last 17 years.  The best was on her 30th birthday when I had “17 + 13″ written on her cake.  She was not amused.

Before my mother fell flat on her face at the movie theatre last night, we had a lovely evening at the movies.  Some people think that it’s strange to go to the movies while you’re on holiday, and I say, “fuck them.”  I freaking HEART going to the movies and when I do manage to make it to the UK and get the chance to go to the movies, I make sure that I’m not seeing something that’s showing back in the states.  That’s about as stupid as going to London and dining at a T.G.I.Friday’s.  No thanks, I pass.

Would you believe that even with the exchange rate at almost $2 per pound that it’s cheaper to go to the movies here than back home? It’s refreshing not to be charged $8 for a 20 oz soda.

We did, however, have to sit through 15 minutes worth of commercials.  Most of them were pretty forgettable, but this one I loved:

Why can’t we have ads like that back home?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the pub for a pint of cider.

Guess who had a baby yesterday/this morning??  No, not me – that would require some kind of sexual contact with a man.  Or I guess it could just mean paying a lot of money to some doctor with a turkey baster.  Regardless, it’s not me.

Our beloved Foxy Luv, everyone’s favorite bus station whore, gave birth to a bouncing baby boy!

Mom and baby are doing well.  Sadly, we don’t know about the dad since we’ll have to take DNA samples from every man in the Baltimore-DC metro area.

Love you, Foxy!  Can’t wait to see you and the baby when I get home from my fancy first class travels!

Oh Glee, how I heart you.  I’m not going to spend 45 (or 4 to 5) minutes writing today’s post.  Instead, I give you Mark Salling as Puck from Glee.

FYI: He’s totally legal and only 9 years younger than I am.  I could totally do him without having to serve a lenghty prison sentence.

The flat we rented in Edinburgh is pretty swanky.  The bathroom is bigger than my kitchen at home AND it has heated marble floors. 

My bedroom window overlooks Edinburgh castle.  It’s pretty fantastic, I’m not going to lie.  I’m trapped inside today writing a paper for my graduate school class – I figure I might as well do a little laundry while I’m here.  One of the nice things about renting a flat rather than staying in a hotel is that we have access to a washer/dryer. 

The problem is that the washer/dryer combo is super fancy and lord only knows how the hell it works.  I’m not new to doing laundry, but in staring at the machine, I have no idea how in the hell it works.  I’m on round 3 of pushing buttons and praying the blasted thing works.  The first time I managed to just dry the clothes without washing them.  The second time there wasn’t enough water.  Now I’ve got the washer going, however, there appears to be way too much water in there…and let’s not even mention the fucking soap.

Shit.  Maybe we should have just stayed in a fucking hotel…

Here I am in Edinburgh.  It’s lovely, really.  Though it would be MUCH better if I had my luggage with me.  If it was going to happen to someone, you know it would happen to me – my bags got lost.  I’ve been wearing the same clothes since yesterday and I’m in DESPERATE need of a shower and a change of clothes.

My suitcase is currently hanging out at London, Heathrow and British Airways keeps claiming that it’ll be out on the next flight.  They’ve been telling me that for the last few hours.  This means I have to sit around the flat waiting for the phone to ring with news on the location of my stupid bag.

Maybe I should work on my paper that’s due on Tuesday.  Oh, wait, I can’t because my book is in my fucking suitcase!

Oh, and I just got my period.  Thank God I packed tampons.  Too fucking bad they’re in my suitcase.

UGH!

How hard is it to pack for a trip that you’ve known about for 4 fucking weeks?

She does this EVERY single freaking time.  You’d think I’d get used to it, but each time I think that the lectures I give her in the weeks leading up for a trip will encourage her to be more prepared.

Yeah, not so much.

Our flight leaves in 9 hours.  I packed last night.  In fact, I’m working the whole entire damned day while she takes the ENTIRE day to pack.  Has she started yet?  Nope.  Why?  Because she’s running errands that she should have taken care of earlier in the week. 

You know what this means, right? It means that when I show up at her house to pick her ass up she still will not be ready.  I’d kill her, but then I’d end up having to skip the trip to attend her funeral. 

Here at Investments r Us there are plenty of peole that like to have meetings just for the sake of having meetings.  We get it, you’re important and we have to show up when you tell us to and then we’re not supposed to call you out for showing up 15 minutes late and not having an agenda. Y ou’re important.  Fine, whatever. 

I hate having to leave the comfort of my cubicle to go to some stupid meeting room.  No only does it require that I get my ass up out of this chair, but it also means that I have to control my eye rolls when someone says something stupid.  AND it means that I have to pretend to pay attention.  Blech, it sucks.

Meanwhile, if I can stay at my desk and attend via conference call, I can take meaningful notes.  Kind of like the notes I took for my last meeting:

You know that I NEVER miss out on an opportunity to mock a friend.  Yesterday was Claude’s birthday – a shitty one for him as he lost someone very close to him.  I send hugs to my Claude.  Earlier in the day before we heard the bad news, he told me a little story about Mary Cocoa Butter.  It just so happens to be Mary Cocoa Butter’s birthday today, so I feel that it’s only fitting that my gift to him is to share the story with the rest of you.

His current home doesn’t have a washer/dryer, so he had the “joy” and “pleasure” of packing up all his shit and taking it to the laundromat.  Recently, he found out that the laundromat has a drop off service.  You can just drop everything off, and they’ll take care of doing all of the laundering for you.  Kind of like paying someone to be your mom, only without the nagging and home cooked meals and pressure to get married and have kids.

Mary Cocoa Butter was excited and quickly went about packing up all your dirty under things and dropping them off at the laundromat.  After all, Mary Cocoa Butter had things to do, laundry just gets in the way.

On the day that Mary Cocoa Butter went to pick up his laundry, the tiny little Asian man gave him everything and as they were settling up the bill, he said, “You forgot something special.”  Off he went to the back to go get the “special” something that Mary Cocoa Butter had left.

Click here to read the rest of the story on The Catherinette Chronicles