It occurred to me today that I am way to invested in Smallville.  It didn't really hit me until Kelli called me,in tears, after watching it tonight, and had it not been for the company sitting in my living room, I would have sat there on the phone, cried with her and discussed the show for the next hour.  It has gotten out of hand.
I think the reason I never update is because it has recently come to my attention that people actually read this site, and that makes me a little paranoid.  I best stick to telling stupid stories about clients at work or strangers in the store to make sure I don't offend anyone.
Speaking of which, I had this client come in the other day who was.....well the best word I can think of to describe him is Texan.  He wore overall, talked with an accent, the whole nine yards.  These are usually my favorite types of clients cause they are so darn friendly, and he was no exception.  I expected to make small talk about tractors and farming as I usually do, but our conversation ended up taking a turn in a direction I did not expect.  It started out with the usual formalities, we touched on the circumstances around his ticket (the reason he was in the office in the first place), it was silent for a few moments, and then he complimented on my ring.  A little strange coming from this man but whatever.  He liked how it "looked so old".  "Thanks," I said, "it's becoming the style nowadays to makes new things look old."  "Oh really," he replied.  "I really like the styles from the 20's and 30's, especially the dresses the women used to wear," he continued.  At this point, for a reason I will never know, I became very excited and involved in the conversation.  I began to go on and on about how I liked watching re-runs of Bewitched because I love the dresses Elizabeth Montgomery wears.  Much to my suprise he knew exactly what I was talking about and even added his opinion to the conversation.  Then he said, "Yeah, back in the seventies women were experimenting with just how short they could wear their dresses.  But you know a women's legs will stay pretty a lot longer than their face will."  I became a little uncomfortable at this point, mainly because I suddenly realized I was having this conversation with a 50 year old man, who I did not know at all, and we were is a room full of people who were, by now, all intently listening to our convo.  I heard him say something else about a "nice looking pair of gams."  I then became real awkward, mumbled something about Tina Turner and made up an excuse to walk to the back for a minute.  Needless to say, I quickly finished up making his file and go him out of their as quickly as possible.  It was such a weird experience.