So I'm way over due on a post that's suitable for open consumption. I've been writing here and there but you really wouldn't have enjoyed the negativity, at least I don't even when I own it. As I type, the counter until my relief gets here is 25 days and the Rosie's-Give-A-Shit-Meter is officially at 1 over infinity. For a while, we joked around that it was actually "-i" but so few people understand what that means and I got tired of explaining it that we simply went back to 1/infinity. Many don't get that either. Ah, the cross of being the daughter of a math teacher. In the column labeled "goods" we can list that I have yet to choke my boss to death (not for lack of motivation mind you) and the fact that apathy is liberating thus making the days much more enjoyable (on a relative scale that is). Under the column labeled "others" is the fact that I am still here and the pool, which was closed due to a "fungus" is not only still closed but is completely empty with tiles peeling up from lack of the water weight. It looks like a scene out of Black Hawk Down in fact. Empty, dusty and surrounded by police tape with the sounds of wind and calls to prayer in the background. In a word, depressing. Originally when the pool closed, I questioned the head lifeguard via email on what exactly he meant by a "fungus" and never got a reply. All I can think of is a 20-something jackass decided he didn't need to leave the pool to take care of business. Frankly, I don't even want to think about how long the pool was actually like this before they tested the water and realized there was personality in the pool. The good news is that I can now blame everything on the fungus in the pool. Feeling dizzy? Tired and in need of a siesta? Completely disrespectful and argumentative with my superiors? That damned fungus again. "Sir, I'm just not feeling that well and I need the next 6 months off...it's that pool fungus you know." The insanity that I've experienced since I got off the plane in Kuwait? Clearly it's not me and must be the result of some toxin-producing somethingorother that is infesting my good judgement and sense of personal responsibility and professionalism. When I went home for R&R in October, I stopped in to see my witch doctor and she told me I had parasites. (Don't ask how she knows. I pay this woman $250 a pop to keep me healthy without giving me too much information because really, I'm just not evolved as an entity enough to deal with it.) I started putting two and two together and realized that maybe it was the pool. Witch Doctor gave me some dried somethingorother but I contemplated not letting them go because they sounded like fun. My own party-in-a-can (if you'll pardon the pun). You know, a group of friends that you can take with you everywhere and never be alone. A fun group that requires no extra baggage, they just tag along and bring their own entertainment to boot. You can talk to your little buddies and they never give you grief (except for that occassional intenstinal discomfort but isn't that small price to pay compared to the huge intestinal discomfort that most humans give us?) This begs the question though, where did they actually come from? The pool? Or the vegetables that are washed in the local water system. In either case, if you kill off your buddies, who's to say that the very next time you ingest either pool water or a tomato washed in Kuwait water that you won't pick up more little buddies? Aunts and Uncles of the original troop that heard you were a night-time hot spot and a great place for a XTC rave? What's the point in killing them in the first place? Since the pool is now closed due to too much personality, in order to avoid getting more buddies, I decided that I was done with vegetables for the duration and would only eat processed American food like the over-done gooey mac and cheese, Jiffy corn bread and the greens that are so over-cooked that nothing can possibly still be alive in there. Additionally, I'm going to add in the weekly Whopper from Burger King because (Wendy's isn't available and) if I'm going to be a depository for "guests", might as well get some personal satisfaction out of the deal. Moving on, for posterity, I need to include my horoscope from the Stars and Stripes (this once again falls under the heading of "I don't make this stuff up folks"): It really annoys you to have to repeat yourself, and lately you feel like you've been doing it a lot. You wonder whether anyone is listening. Someone in my office must be submitting this stuff to Holiday Mathis (writer of the column) because I think I was just saying this last week although it came out more like a whine with a brief sniffle at the end and a "nobody loves me" tag line. Picture included has absolutely no significance. I'm just that easliy entertained. Later folks.