More Musings from Bryan

I thought about this while making fried chicken last night: Do you think on planet Marklar that human meat fries better in a pan if they crack a open a couple of our embryos to dip us in beforehand?

And I wonder how expensive our meat is? Do those Marklar aliens run around trying to find the best price and evaluate buying thighs instead of breasts?

I wonder how much poop is transported across the country. I mean, we all loaded up on food the other day then hopped on a flight--and dropped our poop off in Texas. Do you realize how many people do that? That's a lot of moving poop.

What is the composition of a booger? Is it 60% mucus and the rest made up of dust and flies? If it's 90% mucus, that seems like a waste.

OCD much?

Anyone who has spent any time around my husband with our kids knows that he is crazy about having their hair perfect. Perfect to the point that I am not allowed to comb their hair at all because I'm not good enough. Perfect to the point that he friggin' combs their hair before they go to bed at night! Psycho...

Since I am an evil wife, I have been plotting against this OCD behavior for almost a year. I stocked up on colored hair spray last Halloween and hid them. I bought clippers and stashed them away. I waited until the perfect moment to spring my plan into action--wacky hair day at daycare. Bryan had already left for work, so he had no idea what craziness awaited him when he picked up the kids from daycare...and I lived to tell about it.

Yep--those mohawks are real. I cleaned up the evidence so that Bryan would never suspect a thing when he got home from work. When I dropped the kids off at daycare, all the ladies gasped--they know first-hand how nutty Bryan is with hair, and they vowed to work late just to see his reaction.

Unfortunately, I didn't get to see it myself. He was still hyperventilating when he got home from picking them up. He had to prop himself on a chair just to look me in the eye. He didn't say a word for over 5 minutes (that's a long time!) And then he gave me a shock of a lifetime--he said Nick looked particularly cute and they could keep their mohawks for the rest of the week! (Who are you and what did you do with my husband???)

Token

Nothing like announcing "I'm baa-aack" like a good rant...

Any of you heathens watch South Park, like me? This is Token--he is the "token" black kid on the show to represent "diversity". What in the hell does he have to do with me? Well it seems that I am the "token woman" in my shipyard. Nothing gets my panties in a wad faster than someone implying that I got to where I am simply because I'm a woman.

Why am I on this rant today? Because I went for another big job promotion, and made the steep cut into the final round of interviews. I didn't publicize with everyone that I was going for this job because I put enough pressure on myself--I don't need everyone else watching me succeed or fail (and later gossiping about it.) Yet, when I came back from a 10-day vacation, everyone was yapping about me "getting the job." Whaaaa? Where did they get this information? I pressed one of them--I used my womanly manupulative powers of shipyard seduction to get out of him exactly why he knows for a fact that I got this job. He f-ing showed me a bunch of corporate charts showing how far behind the curve our yard is compared to the rest of the corporation and the defense industry with diversity. Puh-leeeze...

Have I heard whether I got the job yet or not?--no (yes, it's been a while.) Perhaps all the VPs are still sitting in their tee-pees smoking the medicine pipe and pondering whether or not it's a good idea to comply with a stupid corporate directive anymore...since our shipyard is going to be spun off from Northrop Grumman in the near future anyway...