Apropos of nothing:

AH just got an e-mail from his co-worker he calls "Scooby-Doo" woman. Automatically at the end of the each e-mail she sends, next to her signature, is an automatically generated seasonally appropriate Scooby-Doo image. Right now it says "Easter Greetings" and SD is busting out of an easter egg. Her e-mail is also set to make the Scooby-Doo call every - single - time she gets an email. He has sat through entire meetings in this woman's office as her computer hollers "Scooby-Dooby-Doooooooooooooo" every few seconds. Lord.

Dear Grumpy Man Next to Us at the Restaurant Today:
We really think about each place we choose to enjoy a lunch these days. It has to be child-friendly, not fancy or quiet in any way, or small and intimate. If it is large and loud like today's venture to a local PubGrub place, with child-friendly waiters and highchairs - well, it's not where we would have eaten once upon a time, but we don't like bothering people and they have decent beer, so that's where we go. Our kid was a little feisty today but nowhere near her peak of toddler-hood. There was no spills, yelling, crying, banging or excessive mess. But you wanted us dead, I'm pretty sure from the look in your eye. Sorry to interrupt your glacially quiet lunch with your sad looking wife today. We'll just go home and hide under a bush for the next 15 years.

In other news it is somehow Sunday evening already. This is briefly mitigated by the fact that Amazing Race is on in 9 minutes and Mike White and his Dad are KILLING me on AM this season and there are zero horrible abusive couples either, the kind who call each other Babe incessantly, even when cursing each other out. But still, it's Sunday night. Already.