Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

fembots, zombies, and hot pink fur...

 

It was a regular work-day Saturday for me today.  The anti-weekend, if you will.  Saturdays are short days in the banking world, but working on a Saturday completely negates the good feelings one gets on a Friday night.  And believe me, I was feeling pretty good Friday night.  I drank three diet Cokes before bed again, so I was wired by the time I posted at midnight, and I woke up with a caffeine hangover this morning.  Yes, you can get a caffeine hangover…and yes, it’s very unpleasant.  I wore the crazy hot pink fur trimmed sweater again, in an attempt to shield myself from bad energy.  It worked.  Mostly.  It’s extremely difficult to take a grown woman seriously when she’s wearing hot pink fur and black lace…in a bank.   It was mission accomplished, as far as I was concerned.  I could feel the negative energy bouncing off me in an almost constant current throughout the morning and early afternoon.  Finally it was time to lock up and leave.  Survived another perilous day and I was ready for lunch. 

So much for chopsticks. 

I am truly a fan of my chopsticks diet, so don’t think too harshly of me for admitting that I have almost completely abandoned it.  Hot wings are almost impossible to eat using chopsticks, but they are almost required on a Saturday after a harrowing day of banking.  My husband, who had ventured out on what was supposed to be a grown up outing with the three girls (see his blog for the complete story, http://www.mdeanmusic.com) had returned just in time to meet me for lunch, and since we needed groceries anyway…wings.

My favorite place for wings is a little sports bar in Kennesaw, not too far from home and the bank.  Good food.  Interesting staff.   I have come to the conclusion that three quarters of the waitresses were created in a factory.  Is a woman truly considered attractive when she has had every body part replaced with aftermarket parts?  I’m not saying I’m completely against plastic surgery, but they aren’t using plastic anymore.  They’re using titanium!  And I thought I needed nipple armor!  These girls needed steel tipped bras.  They even looked alike.  They must have come from the same assembly line.  I wonder if the owners just order online when they order their kitchen supplies.  As if they fill out an online form for plates, napkins, blonde blue eyed large breasted fembot.   It’s not that I’m jealous, mind you.  I have my own impressive stats, but I wasn’t built by Skynet!  No matter.  Lucky for me my husband pretends not to notice, and he’s gotten quite good at it.  I didn’t catch him looking once.  But the minute I find somewhere that makes wings even half as good, I’ll stop going there just on principle.   I’ve seen all of the Terminator movies.  I know what could happen if we let the machines take over the world!

Lunch was my last semi quiet moment of the day.  We ditched the girls at their friend’s house for a sleepover just in time to come home to find my son preparing for his birthday party.  So, I managed to trade three girls for a house full of assorted mini-adults.  My son is officially twenty years old, and he has an entire group of similarly aged friends that descended on my house en masse.    At what point do parents stop hosting birthday parties for their adult children?  And since when are cupcakes uncool?  I find cupcakes extremely cool.  Especially the two bite size with swirls of snowy white frosting and multicolored sprinkles.  Those are perfectly suited for chopsticks!  But I digress. 

What do thirty 18-20 year olds have in common with a pack of flesh eating zombies?  More than I care to compare.  The coke can carcasses and cupcake wrappers have left a lifeless trail throughout my poor house.  And the last partiers were strewn about the furniture like corpses.  Thank goodness for the hot pink fur trimmed sweater!  And that was my Saturday in a nutshell.  All I can do is hope that I can squeeze every drop out of Sunday before the week starts over again Monday morning. 

Until the next time…I’ll be sleeping in my hot pink fur sweater.

Erica

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