Welcome to Friday Fhoughts, Folume 3.
I randomly wrote a few things — you know, fhoughts — a few Fridays ago. Now, in its third week, it’s a thing, y’all.
Welcome to the randomness of my brain at the end of another work week (sorry, weekend workers!).
Just imagine as you read what it must be like to be in my head all. the. time.
… … …
Anyhoo, a few random Friday Fhoughts:
I posted no Fhoughts last Friday because last Fhursday, er, Thursday was my birthday and I was away, spending time with Ocean (to be shared on Thursday Doors, starting yesterday). I’m sure you understand my being away from blog world. If not, you may refer back to my note from Epstein’s mother.
I have to say after a week back in the real world, if you can get away for a few days (even if it’s not your birthday), I highly recommend it. This week, people are all, “What are you on? Are you overcaffeinated?” No, I simply was exhausted from The People and my visit with Ocean was quite refreshing.
Several of the people who said such things were at choir, where I jingled my tambourine and also cracked people up (I take both of these jobs very seriously). Unfortunately, in addition to being “spirited” (as one person put it), I also suffered from beach brain still and began two songs singing along with the sopranos instead of the altos.
Some of the mirth included Star Trek jokes. One of the tenors was acting up and the director asked if she was trying for a solo. She said, “No, I’m part of the collective.” He looked at me. I looked at him. “She has been assimilated,” I said. He said, “Resistance is futile.” Nerd laughter then ensued. (For non-nerds, read about The Borg to understand this exchange.)
Mirth occurred at work as well as I cracked my one coworker up so much this week, at one point she told me to stop because her stomach hurt too bad from all the laughing. I suppose that’s a problem, but as problems go, not a bad one, eh?
Mirth was interrupted by
workth work, and it’s weird sometimes, people. I now present an actual conversation:
Phone rings at 10:30 a.m.
Him: “I’m not feeling well, so I won’t be in.”
Me: “I’ll tell your 10 a.m. to go home then?”
Him: (agitated) “Why didn’t you call me?”
Me: (trying to squash reciprocal agitation) “I did call…. I called your cell twice, and once I left a message. I called home twice and both times it went straight to voice mail, which was full. I also emailed you.”
Him: “My cell’s on vibrate.”
Me: (thinking) I can’t help you with that.
Him: “Something’s wrong with the home phone.”
Me: (thinking, loudly) OBVIOUSLY.
Him: “God, I hate when I do this to people.”
Me: …. …. …. …. …. …. (then thinking) W.T.F.
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This weekend is three-days long, thanks to Easter, a holiday I’m not really into. But I’ll take the day, thanks. I plan on visiting a museum and seeing priceless works of art (no pancreas-eating, though — FERRIS BUELLER REFERENCE). I also plan on continuing tambourine practice. I do so with many songs (including the one I’m singing and jingling along with the choir), but I often find myself playing as the fourth member of Hanson. These kids were written off in the 90s as pop crap, but they’re actually talented musicians. And their harmonies… *faints*
May your bunnies be chocolate and tasty. May your free-from-work moments feel endless. And may your days be filled with smiles and jingles on the right beats.
Happy, peaceful weekend, people.
On Fridays, I have fhoughts. And that’s how Friday Fhoughts was born. A cross between two series I used to have (Random Thoughts Thursday and DSF Weekly Rewind), Friday Fhoughts is a smattering of random thoughts, connected in some way or not, with photos, music, and more. Read my Friday Fhoughts posts here.
(And remember, Sunday Song lives at TaraParay.com now!)