Five Step Program

1.  I got a marketing letter, you know, like an ad, in the mail, from my wireless phone carrier, which I'll call AT&T, here, since, you know, that's what they call themselves.

Here's what it looked like:

They used my correct address.  Look at my name.  LOOK AT MY NAME.

"Dear Sexy Mamma" was my favorite thing all week.  Also, I spell it "Mama."  Also, What the fuck is going on, here??

I called AT&T, to let them know that they had mis-spelled my name.  Fuckers.  The girl on the phone was terribly embarrassed, and I let her know that I was HIGHLY OFFENDED and a GOD-FEARING-CHRISTIAN WOMAN and WHAT-IF-MY-FIRST-GRADER-SAW-THIS and so on.  And I didn't laugh, although OMG it was hard to not laugh.  After apologizing profusely, the girl had me fax this to her attention.  That was a very, very good time.

2.  I know you have laughed at auto-corrects before, as have I, because they are funny.  I did suspect they were likely fake, at least largely, but one happened to me here, and I have to share it.  (Incidentally, once, I tried to text my friend Katie that I loved her "whole bunches," but my phone changed it to "hole punches," and so we now love each other hole punches.  How cute is that, eh?)

This is less cute, but way funnier:

 3.  First soccer game of the year.  He maybe kicked the ball twice.  They did not win.  I'm going to have to develop a taste for cat food if my retirement plans depend on his athleticism.  It's nice in theory.  Sigh.

4.  Everybody knows I like a good steak.  If you don't like steak, you should move somewhere.  I'd suggest maybe Vermont.  Not a lot of cows like the cold.  Right?  I honestly really just made that up.  I have no idea what cows like.  Milk.  Cows like milk.  I'd assume.

Anyway, but Winn-Dixie apparently thinks that all steaks should be grotesquely rare.  And so they put a picture of one with a tiny fat-blob, too - on their truck.  Grrrrrrosssssss...

5.  I went to a meeting in a little town called "Amite" the other day, for a Fema thing, for work.  It was a good meeting, very informative.  It was held in the city council chambers, which was kind of like a courtroom or something, with kind of a panel at the front, in a semi-circle of chairs, and then chairs for the non-council members, or, in this case, people like me.  A professional, fairly nice building, especially (from what I can tell) for Amite's standards.  

After the meeting, I needed to go potty, as I occasionally do.  On the way out of the restroom, I encountered the following sign on the door.  Because, apparently, Amite's council consists of six-year-old-boys, who may or may not be my sons...

It's been a good week here in neverland, where I think I must live, or some such.  Tonight I'm going to the high school football game, and then I'm starting a new quilt tomorrow.  Because I am the Best Grandma EVER, that's why.

Happy weekend!