There are naked women on that show. Well, yeah, but they're old.

That's honestly the conversation that took place over lunch about Sex and the City. Yep. We're real professionals.

This entire WEEK is a total waste of make-up.

Today I spent seven hours in my new position- that of Suck-Up Girl. Pam, one of the managers, doesnt really like Training Guy (aka Ross the Intern) and is a teensy bit scared of him. So whenever she needed something, she would make me go ask for it, because I smile and look cute. And now I'm Ross the Intern's special friend. We're tight. He calls me Katherine and pats me on the back (which might concern me if he weren't ROSS THE INTERN).

And I am so happy that my extensive classical secondary education (thanks Mom) and my abilities to conjugate any Latin verb, name almost any Renaissance painting by artist, title, and date, to give you a quick rundown of the English royalty from the Norman Conquest in 1066 to the fall of the Tudor Dynasty with the death of Elizabeth I in 1603, and write a ten-page paper on ANY subject in an evening, complete with footnotes and a bibliography are being usitilized as Suck-Up Girl.

Life is great.

Also, we set up an entire cafe today. I'm a liberal arts person. We don't work. We think.

I was not pleased.

Only three more days- whee!!! And then I might be out of a job. No. Not going to think that. Things could go perfectly well and I could be back helping people figure out the massively confusing alphabetical by author shelving system.

Bunches of family get-togethers lately. Maybe just two. Still.

Father's Day on Sunday- very much fun with many potatos. We ran out of regular wine, and I was feeling creative, so I drank a bunch of those little travel drinks (some wine, some mixed drinks), and had a gay old time. We're out of those now, too, by the way.

But perhaps the best part of the evening, and perhaps the year, was when we were all yelling about something and then Steven goes, "Well, yeah, but she's from bumfuc..." and realizes there is no possible way to finish that word that doens't make it obscene. Poor Grandpa's head whipped around and the rest of us were just like "oh, shit". I don't think he totally got it. The rest of us were hysterical, though.

It was amazing.

And then last night we went to dinner with the same people at The Chancery, for another one of our death holidays. Good times, but no fun little drinks. Leftovers, though. Yay.

I think I'll go eat them.