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Feeling pretty tired now. I didn’t sleep much last night again…woke up and drove to the church to talk to the wedding coordinator about setups and tear downs and arrival times, blah blah blah.

…did more email writing and was reminded again this week how much I detest having to write specific messages to people whom I don’t know well. Not like writing to K, or writing here, where I can just say whatever comes into my mind. *sigh*

Emailing your significant other’s mom is vexing.

On the other hand, it’s not all bad. The reason I didn’t sleep much (well…a contributing factor) was that I watched The Hateful 8 after work…and as much as I am not into the shock value he tries to heap into his films, I like the character development in the Tarantino films I’ve seen so far. It’s like characters in a play than in a typical movie. I feel like maybe I should look into watching his other films, but idk. (when is there ever time???)

Then I came home and read more in a book that I’ve had for yeeeeeeeears. Like, since I was maybe 10 or 11…and maybe I’m just an idiot and not as good at reading as I’ve always thought…but…the book is about a family raising horses in Wyoming, and I always assumed that it was set in what is more or less the “present” (so to 10-year-old me, that would’ve been 1997 or thereabout), but then I got to where the mother in the story is talking about seeing a movie with Fred Astaire in it, and daydreaming about raising a racehorse that could beat Seabiscuit, and I was like, “wait…when is this story set again??”
1943, apparently, as that’s when it was published. 10 year old me had no idea and no interest in who Fred Astaire or Seabiscuit were, I guess.

Also makes me a little sad that Mary O’Hara didn’t write more, since apparently that was a good time to be writing books about young people with horses…what with Walter Farley’s Black Stallion books debuting in 1941, and all the different horse stories that Marguerite Henry wrote around that time. O’ Hara’s characters are more developed though, I think. I still like them as much now as I did when I was 10.

But yeah, these are reasons why I don’t sleep sometimes. Because of Tarantino’s films being absurdly long, and then books about horses…

I have tried awfully hard to be awake today though. So much caffeine, and wearing my eye-offending neon yellow shirt. Because if I’m not going to wear black or red or black and red, it had better be worth my while, right?
*considers* It feels weird to not wear black though, what with that being the colour most of my clothes are, and my uniform also being all black. Like a special occasion or something. It’s not, but still. Hm.

Ooh…and I opened the package of Turkish delight that I got for Christmas. It’s rose flavoured, and I like rose tea, but I’ve never had the candy before. It’s pretty awesome. I must find out who put it in my stocking, because I still don’t know if it was my parents or my sister.

About to go out and have dinner with Jester…so I’ll leave you with this work conversation that started out with us talking about harassment…

Tyler: *to Blair* Yeah, you couldn’t give me a back rub like that. Not because I don’t love backrubs or because I’d say it was harassment, but because my leg would start kicking. Like when you scratch a dog’s belly. And I’d probably make a weird noise. Like this. *purrs loudly*

Me: *thoughtful* I can’t make that noise.

Blair: Really? But you’re the most like a cat. *also purrs*

Me: Yeah, I can’t roll my Rs. It’s an accident when it happens. Maybe I’m just a grumpy cat.

Paris: Maybe that’s also why you can’t stand French.

Tyler: No, that comes from being a fuckin Nazi.

Paris: Aaaw, Nazi cats.

Me: Omg. This again? Really?

And then Paris shows me this picture.

hitlerstalincats

I’m glad I’ve given us something reliable to fall back on for amusement when the masses aren’t overwhelming us with spilled popcorn and drinks and online ticketing issues. *shakes head*

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