Save the Fudgies

As the hubby is fond of cake nostalgia, for his birthday this year I thought about getting him a Carvel ice cream cake. So I went to the Carvel website to locate what few local municipalities still house Carvel franchises (answer: Brockton and Malden, the dueling armpits of Massachusetts).

Then I poked around the site some more and came across the Fudgie the Whale Cake profile, which began thusly:

"If there's one thing people hate, it's an uptight whale."

See, I would say death -- if there's one thing people hate, it's death. But I may be wrong. It may just be an uptight whale.

All I'll ever need to know about the woman sitting opposite me at work

"Oh my god, did I tell you this already?" I overheard her say on the phone the other day. "I keep calling the au pair by the dog's name!"

(Yep, I'm back.)

Mea(ghan) culpa

Um, yeah. Hi. So here's the thing. I haven't been feeling very funny lately. It's just one of those times. I actually wrote a long bloggy missive about it all, but then I decided that soul-searching monologues don't really have a place here. Or do they? I can't decide. Maybe I'll revamp this sucker to include a bit more introspection. Maybe I'll create an ancillary blog that allows me to indulge my more egomaniacal mental wanderings. Maybe in a week or two I'll be feeling cheeky again and can return to TaBiMT with a renewed sense of snarky purpose. Dunno. I do know that for the moment, I need a wee break. I need to stop berating myself for being unable to spin my Home Depot jaunts for giggles. I need to dissuade myself that my housemate and I are locked in some sort of readership battle of which I'm always on the losing end. I need to spend less time on the Web obsessively reading the professional writings of friends, acquaintances, ex-coworkers and ex-boyfriends and then flagellating myself for my own career myopia. I need to think less, act more and be happy for what I've got, and right now my blogosphere residency isn't aiding me in those goals.

Also, I really need to get out of the house because this guy Mike from the Boston Sports Club keeps calling asking WHEN I'll be in to take a TOUR of the FACILITIES and I don't know what to tell him. Somehow "get bent, my blandiose gent" doesn't feel like a viable option.

I'll probably be back before the end of the month. Til then, blog speed.