Sticky 80s With Ethel

I started my new job last week, almost exactly three months to the day I was laid-off. My new job is a good fit. I really love it; more than I thought I would. I’m back in my wheel-house where I’m comfortable, and I’m surrounded by happy, positive people so I’m laughing my ass off on a daily basis.

But today was a full-on Manic Monday.

I started and ended my day frantically searching for two separate, DIFFERENT, three-inch yellow sticky notes with important information scribbled on them…

I searched for one sticky note first this morning. And because I didn’t learn (my lesson) to write crucial shit down on a life-sized notepad, I found myself chasing down a second stick-to-f&*king-everything-three-inch-yellow-smurf-square at the end of the day. Again.

I’ve always disliked the color yellow, and it’s possibly not a coincidence.

Shortly after I got home tonight I received this text from my twenty-three year old son:
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(That’s me in the middle. In the eighties. In a prom-style bridesmaid dress)

My first thought was to tell my son to just dress normal. Normal. The eighties were thirty years ago. Oh-my-gawd. That’d be like my mother telling me back in the eighties to dress normal for a fifties themed party.

I feel like I just stepped into the Rocky Horror Picture Show time warp and I’m doing the dance. Maybe because it’s my birthday week?

Then my BFF Ethel texted me this:
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DON’T GOOGLE IT! It’s not a curling iron. Trust me on this.

I hope I’m not murdered tonight, and the police check my internet browser history. And I hope my computer doesn’t crash from some Trojan porn virus. Or maybe I should hope my computer crashes so it is replaced long before I die, or before anyone ever has any reason to look up my search engine history.

Ethel, if I am murdered in my sleep or somethin’ before I replace my iPad, remember to esplane to those FBI guys why the Hell I looked that shit up; right after you clean out my bedside table drawer, and do that other stuff we talked about. Okay? I don’t want all this in my Forty-Eight Hours Mystery episode.

Oh, and Ethel… make a note so you don’t forget. Just don’t make a note on a sticky-smurf-pad.

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