why a period means the end of a discussion, plus fabulous things you can do with steak knives.

random thoughts while waiting for pages to close.
i'm still at the office. posting via safari, some of the functions aren't supported, hence the linklessness of this post. i'll probably edit when i get home. home, where the fam is enjoying easter lunch. without me.

regularly met up with marga and paul during the holy week. together, we weren't exactly the holy trinity. trinity, yes... holy? not even if we were dressed in white robes and cardboard wings complete with cotton balls for added angelic authenticity.

how did i wind up staying at home? ah, well.
*cue tinny music that initiates flashback sequence*

cast: me (of course), marga
setting: a mat in the garden of 4 aruego

*some parts of the actual conversation have been edited

marga: i wish the beach were right there.
me: mmhmm.
both: whoosh whoosh (those are supposed to be waves)
me: let's go to batangas.
marga: game.
me: you drive, i'll give you gas.
marga: i don't want to drive. let's take the bus.
me: ok. where will we go? you think we'll have somewhere to stay? they might be full.
marga: *eyeroll* there are plenty of places! game?
me: hmm. i can't. i have my period.

silence.
periods. end. discussions. not. just. sentences.

YES! update: the pages are good. i can go home and eat!

last thought before leaving the office: after my editor asked me about job-related concerns last week, i said that i was a steak knife being used to spread butter.

steak? butter? i'm heading home.