I am working in Rockville now, gentle reader.  Disconnected from the world.  I have no internet access here, and it is driving me maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad.  I would like to say that it has been a relief to be unavailable to the world.  I would like to say that I enjoy going back to a simpler time when we had dial-up and getting on the internet was such a drag.  I would like to say that I have more important things to do….like appreciate nature or read a book…..than be on the internet.  This is sadly not the case.  Apparently, when I don’t answer my mother’s e-mails promptly (within 24 hours) she assumes that I am dead.  That’s a fun conversation to have with one of your parents –

Mom: Why don’t you answer my e-mails?

Me: Because I don’t have internet access on my job anymore.

Mom: Why don’t you answer my e-mails when you get home?

Me: Because I have other stuff to do.

Mom: I thought something had happened to you.  You worry me.

Me: Wait a minute mom, I think my experiment worked.

Mom: What are you talking about?

Me:  Hang on mom, I have to check something.

Mom: <sigh>

Me: I was trying to prove that I would I die if I didn’t e-mail my mother constantly.  And it worked.  I’m dead.  You’re speaking to a dead person.  You can save the guilt and passive aggression because it is ineffective on dead people.

Mom: Stop being a smart ass.  You’re just like your father.

I am currently auditing a courthouse in Rockville.  I don’t think I said that before and I’m too lazy to read what I just wrote.  Working in a courthouse is like being on the pirate ship in the fish tank and watching all the crazy guppies swim by.  You get all types in a courthouse.  ALL types.  Lots of men in uniform.  Which hasn’t been that bad….I saw a Sheriff’s car get towed the other day.  And for some reason that bothered me.  Listen, I know some of you out there think cops shouldn’t get away with speeding and free parking and all that….but seriously?  They get shot at.  And yes, I think that warrants some free parking.  Save your quarters, copper. 

I was rather dismayed to learn that I would need yet another ID badge to enter the courthouse every day and bypass the x-ray machine, etc.  I think I would rather turn on my laptop and my cell phone and empty my purse and twirl around three times every day for courthouse security if it would mean that I don’t have to look at this ridiculous picture of myself on this ridiculous badge.  I don’t know if the guy taking the picture had a wide-angle lens because I don’t remember him being this close to my face but my pumpkin-sized head fills the entire picture window on the badge.  And it is a perfect circle.  I look like a character out of South Park.  It amazes me that I can stand up in the morning with this bowling ball on my shoulders….it amazes me that I don’t just fall over backwards. 

Here’s a travel tip for those of you who don’t normally drive through loverly Rockville on a regular basis.  If you need to park in this city expect to pay an arm and a leg.  It costs more to park here than it does in Ballmer.  Of course, you’re not dodging crack heads here like you would be in Ballmer….so maybe you pay a premium for that.  One of the pathetic joys in my life right now has been chronicling the trials and tribulations of the Parking Booth Man.  I have decided to park in a street lot behind the courthouse and because my OCD habits will not allow me to deviate from a routine once it has been established, this is where I park every day.  And every day, Parking Booth Man is having some kind of problem.  I imagine that the Parking Lot Company does not pay him nearly enough for all the stress and agony this job apparently causes him.  One day, I drove in and the ticket spitter was broken and Parking Booth Man was attempting to fix it by kicking it repeatedly….and I full well on intended to just sit in my car and watch this fiasco unfold, but I must have made him self-conscious because he turned and looked at my car idling in the turn-in for the lot and started flailing his arms around like an epileptic air traffic controller.  I interpreted his somewhat aggressive arm gestures to mean that I was to drive through without taking a ticket.  This does not concern me, because I stay all day and so I would have to pay the full rate regardless but I sooooooooooo wanted to watch the meltdown.  The kicking must have worked, by the way, because the ticket spitter was back to spitting out tickets the next morning.

Last week the Parking Booth Man was having issues making change for people.  I have deduced from my extremely amazing observation skills, that this is probably because he sits in a claustrophobically small stifling hot poorly constructed ticket booth all day sucking in exhaust fumes.  The seat in the booth is too tall and the window is too low, so you can’t really see Parking Booth Man in his booth….you can just hear him mumbling and cursing in his make believe parking lot language.  In Parking Lot Land, I assume that a twenty dollar bill looks exactly the same as a tenner.  I assume this, because on this particular day last week, I handed Parking Booth Man a brand new crisp clean twenty dollar bill spit freshly out of the outrageously priced ATM in the courthouse (because I don’t carry cash normally) and after I got a receipt and no change and sat there for about thirty seconds….I realized he must have thought he gave me change.  So I asked for change.  This was not some kind of confrontation….don’t worry.  And even if it had been a confrontation, I am fairly certain I could annihilate Parking Booth Man with a swift head butt from the pumpkin noggin.  No…there was none of that.  There was just Parking Booth Man….confused and turning this way and that on his too tall swivel stool in the booth, making confused grunts and noises and getting increasingly agitated about something until he was wildly flailing his arms around again.  At this point…..I am trying………….really really hard…………not to laugh.  I am nervous that my laughter at this point, because it would be uncontrollable, would cause the Parking Booth Man to spontaneously combust.  It’s been known to happen, people.  And then who would entertain me everyday….really.  So I suppress the urge to start the jiggledy giggledies.  And wait.  And wait.   And wait….for Parking Booth Man to pull it together.  After his loud and angry monologue, none of which I got because again he was speaking in that parking booth language that I don’t understand….and he’s like sitting three feet above the car window, after that he takes a deep breath, hands me my change and says in the sweetest voice I have ever heard, have a good day.

Oh.  I already have Parking Booth Man.  I already have.  Thanks.

I have recently become addicted to orange flavored lifesaver mints.  I eat them all the time now.  They must put heroin in these things because I cannot stop munching them….and yes, I am one of those people that eats mints.  There is nothing worse than listening to someone sucking on a mint….except maybe someone walking behind you, or listening to people eating or drinking, or people doing something else that is annoying.  Nothing worse.  I eat the mints….which is probably why I go through so many a day.  You know, I figured the coffee and cigs weren’t rotting the teeth out of my head fast enough and so I figured….what would your dentist suggest?  Besides no more nicotine or caffeine…..<shaking my head>……he would suggest no sugar.  And because I concluded long ago that my dentist is the devil incarnate, I will do the opposite and coat my rotting teeth in lifesaver fake sugar all day.  That’s the ticket.  I should have a new set of bionic teeth implanted into my gums by the time I turn 50.

I was stunned and relieved to learn that there is still reality TV on over the summer….besides Big Brother which I can’t really watch because it’s on like every 18 hours or something….and I always miss an episode because there is no rhyme nor reason to the stupid schedule.  There was a new show on this week called….I’m not lying….. “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here.”  AAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  There was very little entertainment involved in this show….mainly because I don’t watch the Hills and had no idea who this Spencer person is…..the Hubby informed me that all the kids watch that show.  <sigh>  Ok.  There was Stephen Baldwin, Lou Diamond Phillips, a female wrestler, some comedians, Janet Dickenson, Blajogedvich’s (no I’m sure that’s not the way you spell that name) wife and Sanjaya.  That’s all I can remember.  It was a train wreck.  Lots of Hollywood religion, catfights, defending impeached husbands and melodrama.  They force the celebrities to live out in the middle of nowhere, to eat bugs and touch snakes, etc.  Very Survivor-esque.  Except with people that very clearly do not want to be there….I don’t think I will continue to watch this show….but if you’re suffering from reality withdrawal, this should get you by.

Also watched the MTV movie awards last weekend….uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…..when did MTV become such a potty mouth?  Seriously….they said “dick” about eight hundred times during the show.  Maybe it’s because of all the trash they show on that channel now….and not nearly enough singing…..Eminem was good and if you honestly think he wasn’t in on that Borat entrance, you’re nuts.  Eminem was on Crank Yankers for crying out loud.  He knows how to handle a joke.  And poor Zack Epinephrine on the stage trying to figure out what the hell was going on….priceless.  Don’t worry if you missed it, they’ll show it again every day for the next three months.  The Ben Stiller award thing was weird and unfunny and uncomfortable….Kiefer needs to stick with Jack Bauer….please.  All in all, MTV managed to confirm that all the little girls and boys who actually have the time to vote for this nonsense want to grow up to be vampires.  Although, the Twilight girl who won and then dropped the award onstage….I don’t know if she meant to do that, but it was hi-larious.  One of the only funny parts of the show…

I am attempting to grow vegetables on the deck outside.  This is interesting and I’m sharing this with all of you because at this point in time, all of my vegetables are still in the house on the window sill.  I do not trust the rabid squirrels in our neighborhood not to eat my plants before I do so I have decided to let them grow for the time being in the house.  The Pumpkin apparently does not agree with this plan one little bit, because she has to date kicked at least two of the plants onto the floor.  The idea to grow vegetables came out of some delusion that growing my own vegetables would be cheaper and greener than buying them at the grocery store…so I bought like eight packets of seeds and a bag of top soil and filled up about 42 plastic cups with dirt and water and plant pods, like I was doing some kind of elementary school science experiment.  I feel like I should be subjecting the plastic cups to music or weird light or something.  So maybe with a little bit of magic pixie dust and a few well-worded prayers I will be eating rabbit food I grew myself in a few months.  That, or the vegetables will have been poisoned by the hatred that I am quickly developing for the dirty little plastic cup bombs that the Pumpkin continues to throw all over my house.

So that’s it.  The update from Audit-Land.  You’re welcome.  Stay tuned next week for the recap of Staff Meeting Day 2009.

Later gators,

Heather