Archive | February, 2007

Dear Winter Weather

25 Feb

I’d like to thank you so much for coming around and ruining my plans YET AGAIN. Sure, I was “thrilled’ when you came around last week and ruined my wonderful Valentine’s Plans, but your efforts today have brought me much “joy”.

Thanks to you, instead of being on my way to sunny Florida, I’m stuck in my sister’s house waiting 12 hours until my newly scheduled flight. I really appreciate how you were not only able to mess up my entire day, but my Oscar viewing this evening. I haven’t missed the Oscars for 20 years. Thanks, no, really.

Fuck you and your wintery mix. Bastard.

I’m a Lazy Fatty Slacker

23 Feb

Over the last few months, one of my girlfriends (we’ll call her Mischa) and I have been pretty good about making it over to the gym that we have on campus. Though we have our days when we are simply unmotivated, we’ve found a proven technique to encourage one another to go: we call the other one out on their back fat. That’s right, people, back fat. For those of you fortunate enough to not know what it is, I’ll explain: it’s the fatty fat portion that bulges out underneath/above your bra on your back.

There are a few ladies that work in the gym, and we’ve asked them to do the same. If they think we’re slacking off, we’ll get emails from them about how it’s important to work out to get rid of the back fat. Today, it was taken a step further. There’s a smoking hot guy that works at the gym, I like to call him the Dirty Counter. You would totally understand why that’s an appropriate name if you ever took one of his classes: when he counts (say push ups or squats, etc.), he breaths out on the count. It makes it sound like he’s counting in the throws of mad passionate sex.

Anyway, today Mischa came to get me to go to the gym, and I flat out refused. The second she got there, she had DC email me about being such a slacker. I responded to him how he forgot to call me fatty. Not 2 seconds later I have an email from him that just read, “FATTY SLACKER!!” (Oh, that was his punctuation) There is nothing like having a hotty call you a fatty slacker, it does wonders for your self esteem.

I managed to get off my fat ass and go, and I’m happy I did as there were 2 good things that came out of it:

  1. There was some delightful eye candy on the bike in front of me. I’ve never seen him before, but hope to see him soon. Sure I spotted the stinking wedding ring a mile away. He’s now known to me as “The Husband”. For a split second I considered telling him that I was just a good a work out as the Lifestyle bicycle he was riding-but then I had visions of his tears and accusasions of sexual harassment.
  2. Mischa offered to play “Sienna in the Springtime”. I’m sure many of you have seen the photo of Sienna Miller in her tights and underoos. From time to time, when Mischa is feeling charitable, she plays dress up. She puts on her black sweater and her tights-there’s a striking similarity. Anyway, today she had on white tights so we pretended it was spring. It’s one of the most hysterical things I’ve ever seen.

3 Things You’d Never Know Just By Looking at Me

23 Feb
  1. I sniff Mr. Sketch scented markers-but I can stop whenever I want to. Part of the reason I went into this field is to have unlimited access to said markers. Man, they have such a fruity fresh scent-especially the purple one. I like to tell my students that it’s the Dimetapp scented marker. When I was young, I used to sneak into the bathroom and take swigs out of the Dimetapp bottle, that was some good stuff.
  2. I always have a terribly cheesy song stuck in my head. The one that’s stuck with me the longest is “Sometimes When We Touch” by Dan Hill. You know the song, it’s got some really “well crafted” lyrics: Sometimes when we touch the honesty’s too much and I have to close my eyes and hide. I want to hold you ’til I die, ’til we both break down and cry. I wanna hold you ’til the fear in my subsides. What the fuck does that mean? Of late, it has been joined by “Secret Lovers” and “Baby Come to Me”. It’s a sickness. Why can’t there be a normal song following me around, must it always be one of these sappy ones? The worst is when I’m walking down the hall at work singing to myself and one of my coworkers catches me. Superb way to get noticed. Just imagine: You’re up for promotion, making your rounds, schmoozing with the big wigs, and suddenly your boss rounds the corner why you’re belting out, “Let me put my arms around you, this was meant to be.” Yeah, it’s not a good way to leave a good impression-though it will be a lasting one.
  3. I don’t watch Grey’s Anatomy, Ugly Betty, or Lost. Apparently, I’m the only person in the free world that doesn’t watch these shows. How do I explain the look of absolute shock and disappointment on someone’s face when I respond “no” to their question of, “Did you watch Grey’s”. Last night. It’s like I just told my mother that I didn’t want to grow up to be a doctor, instead, my dream was to be a crack whore living on the streets.

Life in Your 30’s: Myths Dispelled

22 Feb

There are things that people never tell you as you grow up. Things that you believe will change in your life once you reach your 30’s. We’ll I’m here to straighten you out.

You’ll stop breaking out.
Is there a point when they ever stop? I look nothing like a teenager, and yet my face likes to pretend like I’m still 15. It insists on providing me with a nice pimple from time to time-preferably when I’m going to be around someone that I have a crush on or in some extremely important meeting. Aren’t the hormone levels in my body supposed to change at some point? Do I have to wait until I go through menopause to have clear skin?

There will be no random hook-ups.
When I was younger, I thought that “older” people had a better hold on their hormones. In my mind, they would be able to think ahead, see what was coming, and then talk themselves out of doing it. Self respect and self control, I thought these would come with age. Apparently not. We all seem to experience the same rush that any high schooler or college kid would-only now there’s an incredible sense of desperation. It’s the “I might as well get it when I can” feeling. Let me tell you, it’s a “fabulous” feeling.

As you age, you’re better able to hold your liquor and won’t get hungover.
Lies, complete and total lies. About 7 years ago, I started experiencing this awful new thing: waking up drunk. That has to be one of the world’s worst feelings-especially if I have to spend time with the family or go to work during the day. It gets even “better” when the hangover hits about 2:00 in the afternoon. When I was in college, my hangover would consist of a minor headache. Nowadays, it consists of me enjoying one of the following: the desire to throw myself down the stairs to put myself out of my misery, wishing the waves of nausea would end so I could just die in peace, or having a panic attack in my bed because I know I’m going to puke again.

You’ll have better control of your finances.
Okay, so maybe some people do. I, however, still wonder how $50,000 a year isn’t enough to pay mortgage, electricity, gas, phone, cable, car payment, insurance, credit card payments, and entertainment expenses. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I’d prefer to go out to some fancy restaurant than to pay my phone bill. Those late charges really add up.

You’ll have a family of your own.
Guess what? That knock on my door at the age of 30, you know the one with the instant husband and kids, seems to have stopped by when I wasn’t home. When I was younger I would have sworn on anything that I’d be married with kids by the time I was 25. When I was 25, I was convinced that it would happen by the time I was 30. At 30, I was thinking maybe 33 would be for me. Now at 33, I’m thinking that maybe 40 will work out. Wonder at which point one stops hoping for this?

I’m very much looking forward to what my 40’s will bring. And when I say that “I’m looking forward” to it, I mean I’m totally dreading every second.

A Letter to My "Secret" Lover, James McAvoy

22 Feb

Dear James,

So I found this little picture of you, and it tells me 3 very important things: (1) You have the dreamiest blue eyes I’ve every seen; (2) I would “do” you in a heartbeat: and (3) You want me, you know you want me.

Let’s stop playing this foolish little game where you pretend that you don’t even know I exist. It’s just getting silly now. I could tell in that movie scene in Last King of Scotland when you were about to mack on Gillian Anderson that you were imagining it was me. Come on now, everyone (and by “everyone” I mean “me in my deluded state of mind”) knows it to be true.

Let’s put aside the fact that we’ve never met before. That’s beside the point.

Call me. . .

"Professional"? I Don’t Think So. . .

22 Feb

Doesn’t Anyone Have Any Work to Do Around Here?

What the hell is wrong with this place? Jesus, people are just insane. For almost a year, you’ve been telling me that “perception is key”, and how it’s so critical to be “professional” all the freaking time. Seriously, give me that speech again after stepping off the stage when you wrap up your off key version of “Summer Nights” from Grease. Classy, oh, and extremely professional. Then you can explain how on god’s green earth this stinking company can get away with holding their very own version of American Idol? WHY??

Don’t you realize that at the end of the day you still look like a bunch of assholes? After all, even if Hitler threw a party for his troops it doesn’t erase all the damage that he did to an entire country. Okay, so maybe I’m going a little too far comparing you to Hitler. Maybe this is more like when mom and dad wouldn’t let me go out with my friends or watch my favorite show because it was too “racy”. I’d rage and rage, and their way of making me feel better is to have a family game night. GAY!!

And here’s another thing: I’d love, love, love to hear what our clients had to say if they found out that we were sponsoring this type of event during company time. I’m sure they would not be impressed. After all, aren’t we supposed to be “professional” around here.