Got no title today

What's happening, folks. Finally got some downtime at the job and am consequently using it to enrich myself, aka search various job search vehicles and tidy up where need be. If I could keep my apartment as squeaky clean as I do my desk and cube at work, well, it'd be a special place.

My dad returns to Florida soon and I will be there three times between now and New Years between a baptism, Tgiving and Christmas. Dear god.

Recently read "Debt-free and 30" and dare I say it, it was outstanding. If my dad had a more youthful sense of humor and if he wasn't related to me, he could've written this book. I think the main difference was that the authors seemed to know me, or know people my age and understand, in a way that my dad didn't or couldn't, how money disappears out of one's wallet.

I officially belong to too many yahoo groups. NYC Writers, Motherless Daughters, Flylady and Blogcritics. There's probably another one that I'm forgetting. I dare say, I hear from the self-help kids more than I do the others.

So, I've officially got, oh how do you say it, portly. Dimpled. Wrinkled. Whathaveyou. In the butt, thigh, just-above the knee region. I've always been somewhat but it seems with each passing day, I'm turning more and more into my mother. My face is starting to puff out, the eye circles become bags, the formerly-ripped arms begin to blow in the wind. Ah, the sadness.

So Suzy McChubbs has begun to go to the gym. In addition to curbing my spending, I've curbed my drinking, smoking and overeating. They sort of go hand-in-hand, clearly. I can't afford to replace my favorite pair of jeans so I have to find a way to get back into them. No pressure, there.

I've got nothing of import to say. Alas.