Some Points:

1) My credenza comes in tomorrow. I guess someone (this guy!) is skipping lunch so he can zip to the Beach to be there when the truck comes, and then zip back to work. (boo!)

2) I've been really crappy lately. Partly because I'm miserable with my social life and my job (you never fucking call me to go out! Why am I always the one doing all the work?! What?! You don't like me or something?! Pick up the goddamn phone!) and I was pissed off at the F.B., which, unfortunately doesn't stand for "fuck buddy," rather, "Fucking Benz" which has FINALLY come out of the shop the second time around, and FINALLY drives like a supercharged Mercedes again now that it has a new fuel pump and the carbon deposits have been scraped off the pistons. Thank God for warranties...

But I was thinking, and I realized what the REAL reason is for my being so embittered lately... It's not that no one loves me, or that my job is sucking my soul out of me... or that my boss wants me to "handle it" and "be a lawyer" and "protect the Client" (whatever that means...)

I'm miserable because, how fucking long has it been since I've caught an episode of the Golden Girls?

Too fuckin' long, that's how long.

I hardly remember the last time Sophia made us laugh with one of her, "Picture it... Sicily, 1920..." or Rose made us laugh with one of her St. Olaf stories... or Blanche made us laugh by being a filthy old whore... or Dorothy made us laugh at whatever godawful draped pants-suit she wears...

Or Stan made us laugh by wearing a toupee... or Miles made us laugh by... eh. Miles sucked.

Or Blanche's Mammy made us laugh because she had an affiar with Big Daddy...

You get the picture.

Because when it comes down to it? I love the Golden Girls. Probably because I'm gay. But also, I'll posit this to you: it's possibly the funniest show ever, stoned. Not that I know from experience or anything.

But this whole "lack of daytime television" even WITH the magic of TIVO is putting a crimp on my relationship with those Zany Ladies who... brighten up my day with their fake "Miami" antics... It's making me a Cranky McCrankerson.

Cubaner and Cubaner

My boss now tells me "ven aca" when he wants me to come over.

Frequently I'm involved in conversations that are 70/30 English/Spanish.

I've all but replaced "uhhh" when I'm at a loss for a word with "ehhh," and I'm likely to answer a "yes" question with "si." I also might tell you, "oye" before I say something. I try not to. If you hear the "Miami Accent" creeping into my otherwise oddly-Canadian way of speaking, please let me know.

Over the course of working, it's been interesting to see how my Spanish comprehension (except on the phone) is back to near-perfect. Speaking... not so much, but who needs to SPEAK Spanish when one can read it and understand it. Am I right? Huh?

But really, I'm shocked at how I was told, "ven aca" and I did it...only processing, "that was a command in...Spanish..." after my feet started walking.

Just sort of strange...