My last day off was April 7. My next day off will be May 3. No, I am not kidding. I just looked at the calendar and figured that out (and then wrote DAY OFF in big red letters to remind myself not to schedule students for that day). That is, excuse me, pretty fucking insane. (I did take the afternoon off, though. That was a treat.)

I need to do some yoga, or at least some stretching. My new exercise routine has resulted in some very tight thigh muscles. (And no, it's not that kind of exercise routine, you dirty people.)

Now at work, we can't call them Frappuccinos™ anymore, because if we do, we may lose our ™ altogether. We have to call them "blended coffee" or "coffee blended beverages" or something like that. But it's taking some getting used to. Yesterday, I called a "coffee Frappuccino blended coffee blended beverage blend." I don't think that was right.

"I hate those journals that post all those stupid artsy pictures all the time. Who the hell cares?"

I took a last-minute job as a classroom tutor in Elk Grove, a city near Sacramento. I have a few students who hardly speak any English, and trying to help them understand analogies is varying degrees of impossible. On the other hand, they are very well-behaved. On the third hand, damn that's a long drive.

I desperately want A) the White Blood Cells album, and B) White Stripes tickets. I have been listening to Elephant obsessively and I think I love the White Stripes. I think this makes me uncool; I don't have the necessary hipster cred to pull it off.

Last night at work, I stabbed myself in the palm of my left hand with a box cutter. It was very small, but deep. I bled all over the back counter. Then I applied pressure, did the peroxide thing, put a Band-Aid™ on it, and tried to work, but I was off my game all night. It hurt! When I got home, I went to go move some stuff around on my bed, and belatedly realized the cut was bleeding again, bleeding badly, and I had gotten blood all over my bedspread, pillowcases, and clothes.

Megan is going to kill me for posting this! But here is my evil twin, Megan, who took me out for my birthday a couple nights ago:

She claims that I am the twin who is evil. But, as you all know, I am angelic and pure.

I watched It's A Very Merry Muppet Christmas Movie (Note: I may have made that title up) and fell in love with Pepe, the shrimp-Muppet. Is he a new Muppet? I love him! Today at work, we got our new shipment of retail, and as it turns out, we are getting Muppet finger-puppets. One girl pulled a Beaker puppet out of the box, and I almost had a heart attack. I love Beaker. It is difficult for me to express how much.

I am putting the "mo" in "moody" today. I started off today in a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad mood. I almost burst into tears at work because the cut on my hand was getting me no sympathy and nobody cared. Yes, I realize how ridiculous that is. Then I ditched my afternoon tasks and went for a bike ride to clear my head. It's amazing what those endorphins can do.

The real excitement was towards the end of my ride. I rounded the bend and saw police tape, news vans, and a cluster of people in the distance:

I biked closer, until I got to the parking lot at the beginning of the bike trail. It was full of news vans.

All those pointy things are antennae. Each van had one!

As it turns out, the body of a woman and a baby had washed up right there at Point Isabel, right by my house! My bike trail! Everyone I talked to was saying that it has to be Laci Peterson and her baby. I have to say I will be extremely surprised if it isn't.

I got as close as I could, and there were real-live newscasters wandering around talking on cell phones. I mean, at least ten of them, holding microphones and dressed in on-air garb, talking to their editors back in the newsroom (probably) about the interview the police-dude had just given them. There were more reporters interviewing the police-dude.

I just stood there in my ridiculous looking bike outfit (overalls that are now six sizes too big for me, and a helmet) and soaked up the atmosphere. It's sad, of course, but it was exciting to be there.

Ry is such a friggin' rockstar.

May we offer you some chalk, perchance?