Freakin' Cubs.

I don't know what Carlos Zambrano is on, but he should not take it before a game ever again. Seven runs in four innings. WTF?

Today I feel like writing in green. And perhaps in green, in a different font. That's different. It's good to be different. It's a rainy, cruddy weekend, and I'm attempting to make myself feel better by writing in green. It's not really working, but I'll keep trying.

I was able to get Thursday through Sunday off this week for Tulip Time so I can work at the ice cream store. That means that I'll work Wednesday at the airport, Thursday through Sunday at the ice cream store, off Monday and Tuesday and then back to the grind at the airport. Not a bad gig. We're going to bid for a new schedule soon; I'd like to bid nights but I heard that shift has been spoken for. That and I'm so far down on the seniority line I'm lucky I get to choose at all.

There's another coworker that's come down with the mumps. I feel bad, like it's sort of my fault, but it all comes down to Charmin. Blame it on Charmin.

Cha-cha-cha-Charmin.

Bitch. I'm mumpy and it's her fault. No, not really. It's not good to hang on to such hostility. This hostility will not stand, man.