So. Friday was our bi-annual staff meeting. There was no good reason for me to be there, just as there was no good reason for me to attend the last 6 of them, because never do they touch on anything even remotely relevant to my position, but this has never kept them from requiring me to be there, so I went. I don't mind the December meetings as much as the summer meetings, because it's only one day, we're not required to stay overnight, and there are presents. We end each December meeting with a White Elephant gift exchange. This was my fourth such meeting. The first year I got out of there with the dinosaur shaped staple remover that graces my front page. The last two years I ended up with a Dilbert desk calendar. This year I drew the much coveted number 1, which meant that I got to go back at the end and pick anything I wanted out of the pool, since I didn't have the opportunity to steal from anybody the first time around. I ended up taking home $20 worth of AMC gift certificates. Much better than the first gift I opened, a stuffed Rudolph that dances and sings "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer." They also fed me, and it was very good food, too. And since there was no need for me to pay attention to any of the presentations during the meeting, I managed to write about four pages of a new story I'm working on that you don't get to read.

Saturday Tess and I used our season theater tickets to attend a performance of Showboat. It was very long. We then did some shopping, but not Christmas shopping because I haven't made up that list yet. I bought a pair of pants and a copy of Merrick.

I actually bought the book before the pants, and when I went to pay for the pants, I laid my Waldenbooks bag on top of the counter, face down, so you could still make out the book through the plastic bag. The salesperson who was ringing up my pants (that sounds a tetch kinky, don't it?) glanced at it and exclaimed "Ooh! Anne Rice!" and grabbed the bag and started to take the book out. She had it pulled out part way before she stopped and looked at me and said "Umm, do you mind?" "Does it make a difference?" I was thinking, but I just told her to go ahead. It didn't annoy me as much as it might have because it led to a nice little fangirl discussion, but still, salespeople, don't go 'round digging through your customers' other shopping bags without permission. It might not be so well received.

After shopping we went to see "Little Nicky" (already putting those AMC gift certificates to use). It was okay, typical Adam Sandler fair. Before the movie I got a chance to let loose my inner bitch, which had been itching to get out ever since the saleslady helped herself to my book. A group of young teen/pre-teen girls filed in and filled up a good portion of the row directly in front of us, and they were all very giggly, perky, bouncy, enthusiastic, and loud -- you know, all those things I can't stand. Then one of them stood up and announced to the entire theater "I just want everybody to know that today's my birthday--" she paused and looked directly at me, and I suppose she was waiting for me to tell her happy birthday. Instead I looked at her, smiled, and said, "We don't care." She made a pouty face and sat back down.

That's right. I'm mean. Deal.

Sunday I wrote another page or so of the above mentioned story, did laundry, and started reading Merrick. I also taped Dune and watch X-Files, so please don't anybody spoil Dune for me. I actually never watched the first movie and have never read the book, so I'm not familiar with the story.

X-Files was sufficiently creepy, and Agent Dogget just got interesting. I hope they don't take too long to fill us in on the backstory that was alluded to last night.