First of all, someone tell me why caffeine makes your urine smell like cheerios. And I don’t want to hear any scientific nerdy talk about molecular bonds and kidney function. It had better involve monkeys and spaceships. That’s the only way to keep my attention. That and jingling keys in front of my face.

Speaking of which, I got a new phone that helps make sure that I get to appointments and dates and meetings on time because I’ve been really bad about that lately. Thursday last week I had no fewer than eleven appointments, several of which I handily filed under Friday because of the whole “being retarded” problem I have. So as I’m sitting down to eat lunch, my financial advisor guy calls and says “hey Dusty, did you get lost?”
“uhh…yes…yes I did but I know where I’m going now?” (as I’m fumbling for my keys and throwing money on the table for lunch)

So I go meet with the guy and he tells me I’m still not rich. Just well leveraged. I assume that means something to someone somewhere.

But my phone makes all kinds of cool noises at times and when people call me their picture shows up on the screen, and I could conceivably write and publish articles from any place with a wireless signal anywhere and take a picture of myself doing so. So it’s rad as hell. I’m going to publish my number on this site so I can get a bunch of calls just as soon as I finish this heaping plate of dumbass.

Funny thing said by girl on date-

She- “Cinco De Mayo! Cinco De Mayo!”
Me- “Today’s the tenth.”
She- “I said it twice. Duh.”

Yesterday in a meeting I made it abundantly clear that I should not be allowed in meetings. Or for that matter allowed to work with people in a professional capacity. I should be sequestered to a small cage with a computer, a water bottle, some cedar chips, and maybe an exercise wheel as long as it can’t be reconfigured into anything cooler than an exercise wheel because it would be.

Before the meeting I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Shut up. Oral hygiene does not a disorder make. Showing up at a meeting with a toothbrush sticking out of your breast pocket might, though. Luckily, being the art guy at the company comes with a certain amount of expected weirdness, so everybody just sort of chuckled knowingly and seemed to wait for something else to happen.

The first part involved a conference call with boss man and four managers in the room. The end of the conference call went roughly like this-

Boss man (henceforth referred to as “BM”) - “Okay, so you guys get started on the thing, and I’ll blah blah the so and so next whatever.”
Me- “Sounds like a plan. I’ll let you know when we start to such and such with the help of dudeman and send you a blah.”
BM- “Alright guys, thanks.”
Everyone but me- “Bye”
Me- “Love you.”
Everyone but me- *staring at me*
Me- “er…I mean. Not like that.” *hastily push hang up button and scan room for a similar button to make everyone in the room disappear and forget they ever knew me. No such button.*

Later in same meeting-

“So I think such and such should whatever on stuff and things…”
*stifled laughter*
“Dusty, what are you doing?”
(I was listening to what he had been saying and taking notes, but was unaware anyone was laughing at me)- “Huh?”
“Why is he laughing?”
“Beats me. Maybe he’s happy.”
“What are you drawing?”
“Uh…I don’t know…

…looks like a puppy and a baby duck playing with a butterfly in a scene of rampant gaiety.”
*stifled laughter turns into the real kind*
“Yeah.”
“Is that bad? I mean, you DO like puppies, don’t you?”
“There is something wrong with you, and an entire medical journal could be dedicated to it.”

I’d probably get fired if I wasn’t so damn good looking.

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