This scary woman is now on my soap. I couldn't find a recent picture of her, showing the Skeletor-like plastic surgery results.

I'm such a dumbass. While getting ready to go to missleigh's on Sunday, I could not find two particular black v-neck shirts. (Because I have many, many black shirts, and many black v-neck shirts that are all different in one way or another. Shut up.) I worked myself into a frenzy trying to find them. I especially wanted one of them because it is longer and more suitable to the low rise capris I wanted to wear. I dug clothes out of my closet and stacked them on the bed. I emptied drawers. I did that all over again. I searched the bag I took to AL since that's the last time I could remember seeing them. I called my parents to see if they saw them in the room I stayed in. I was thinking that since my niece and some of her hoop-dee friends stayed there recently, I'd never see them again. She likes to take stuff without asking if it belongs to someone else or even if she can use it.

I know it sounds silly, but they are my two favorite shirts. OK, now the dumbass part. After calming myself down to go to Leigh's, we even went to Tarzhay and another store looking for the same shirts (where I originally purchased them). I get home and see them hanging on the rack in the office where I put my ironed clothes for the week. D'oh! I had put them both with an outfit that I ended up not wearing for the past two weeks. I wasn't sure which one would look better with that particular skirt. So yeah, I thought I was losing my mind. Turns out I'm just a dumbass.

I'm so happy that it's August. That means I'm not on call any longer. I got a call Friday noight that epitomizes why I never know what the hell I'm doing when they call me. There were two outputs for this particular job. It abended and one output said something about a timeout of a particular DB2 table. The other output appeared to indicate an error with a flat file. After not being able to determine what the problem was, I called a coworker. He ended up running the job from his own library successfully. What happened? He doesn't know. "Sometimes it just does this." Alrighty then. How the hell am I supposed to know this type of bullshit? He happened to know because he had the same call a few months ago and did the same thing. I guess I can count on more IBS symptoms in Dec/Jan when I'm backup/on call again. Or during Leigh's wedding. (Her Dad had better behave himself, that's all I'm saying.)