Fragmented Friday - Bummer Days

• A few days after our mini-high-school reunion, Redneck Diva (who wrote her own account here) informed me that talking with me now is exactly like talking with me in high school; "It was kind of eerie at first" she said, "like I'd slipped into a time warp." Apparently my mannerisms and speech patterns have been set in stone for quite a while, not quite sure what that says about me; either I matured early, or not at all. I think we all know where the safe money goes on that bet . . .
  
  
• Just got word that the annual library "talent and hobby showcase" will be coming up again next month. The last two years I've performed two out of the three competitive speech pieces I still have memorized, but I'm not sure if the library staff is quite ready for #3, "The October Game" by Ray Bradbury. So, if I do decide to do something I'll have to decide if I want to learn a new piece to perform; just read an example of my short stories or blogs; or just finish up the competitive speech trifecta by doing the story about the guy who chops up his daughter and passes her body parts around like party favors.
  
  
• Along similar lines (to the library/performing thing, not chopping up body parts thing), several staff members have now expressed an interest in developing a Book Cart Drill Team to perform at the next Texas Library Association conference; since I had mentioned the Drill Team in my submission to the library newsletter about the TLA conference, and since everyone apparently knows that I have little fear of getting up and making a fool of myself in such situations, I have been persistently pursued to partake because, as one staffer said, "We need a guy." How can I pass up sweet-talk like that?
  
  
• I've been figuring out what my budget is going to be like with the addition of car payments and and increase in car insurance; I am now officially depressed. Bye-bye eating out ever again; bye-bye crazy amount of Netflix movies checked out at once; bye-bye *choke* comic book purchases -- you will be sorely missed.
  
  
• Had a surprise party thrown in my honor last night; unfortunately, I had grown suspicious and wasn't really all that surprised; even more unfortunately, I opened my big mouth and said so and then had to watch all the light and joy drain out of the party-planners' faces. Just call me Cap'n Ingrate.
  
  
• I'm afraid I've been lax in promoting the latest round of the Write in the Thick of It challenge, probably largely due to the fact that I, stressed out and distracted by my personal woes, never was able to find inspiration for Tate's words, and wound up phoning it in. Voting is still open until tomorrow night, after which time Diva is proposing some rule changes for at least the next round to shake things up; I'll be very interested to see how it works out.
  
  
• Several of the Singles are planning on going to Six Flags tomorrow; I, who procrastinated so long in getting my season pass that I can no longer justify the expense, probably wouldn't go even if I did have the money; the tailbone, it is still not healed, and somehow I don't think the massive g-force from my favorite rides would be conducive to its recovery. Very bummed.
  
  
• When I came in to work on Wednesday, I discovered that my coworkers had taken my comment that I only really like one picture of myself -- my profile pic -- and had much fun with it for my birthday, plastering a couple of dozen copies around my monitor. The original plan had been to tape them to the action figures and miscellaneous creatures which adorn my desk, which I think would have been funny, but instead I get to stare at myself all day long, which isn't necessarily improving my mood. And then I wandered into the break room and saw this taped up on the dry erase board:I would say that some people have too much time on their hands, but then I recall the HyperTwins picture and realize I have no room to talk.