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Maybe she’s just not into you

4 Aug

It’s an age old story.

Boy meets girl.  Boy falls in love with girl.  Girl isn’t all that interested.  Girl wants to have a baby and gets artificially inseminated.  Boy decides he wants to raise child as his own.  Girl says no.  Boy says he loves girl.  Girl tells him they’re just friends.  Boy wants the kid to call him daddy.  Girl decides to move to Chicago to get away from boy and start a new life.  Boy decides he wants to quit his job and move to Chicago to be with his “new family.”  Girl tells him under no circumstances will they ever be a family because she doesn’t like him that way.  Boy decides she doesn’t know what she’s talking about and begins updating his resume.

What could possibly go wrong?

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Smooth Moves

3 May

Being a dentist must be difficult, it’s hard to imagine another profession that’s as detested.  Just imaging laying back, the dentist shoving both hands in my mouth while he asks me about how work is going, and then having to spit in the little toilet sink is enough to make me break out into a sweat.  I generally find every excuse to postpone the appointment.

With things being so shitty at work now, and as I count the days until I can quit the thought of going doesn’t seem quite as bad.  Option 1 is to stay at work all day and listen to one of my clients complain about why we’ve changed to smaller cup sizes in the cafeteria, option 2 is to go to the dentist and listen to inane stories of travels to Florida for golf trips with “the boys”.  I choose option 2.

Several months ago my friend, Judy, sent me a thoughtful birthday gift – some delicious chocolate covered caramels from the other side of the world. I had popped one in my mouth and was thinking happy thoughts about what the next year would bring when I bit down on the caramel.  When I pulled my teeth apart I realized that one of my crowns had remained in the chocolate.

Not a good start to the year.

In January I went to see the Endodontist.  “You have to have a root canal!” she announced while staring at the X-ray.  “But I’ve already had a root canal on that tooth,” I told her.  Who knew you could have multiple root canals on the same tooth?  As it turns out when I originally had it done about 8 years ago that the dentist was a jack ass and failed to do it right.  That would explain why over the years why I’d suffered from the most excruciating mouth pains known to man. So there I was, fresh off my 32nd (+10) birthday being told that I needed to spend more time with hands shoved down my throat.

The sexiest part was when the tooth was taken down to the rotten nub that it was and she announced that I couldn’t have the crown put back for 6 months.  Yeah, nothing says sexy like a 32 (+10) with a tiny nub for a tooth.  SEXY!  How about adding that to your Tinder profile??

Fast forward four months, and I’m finally heading back to get it taken care of (fuck that 6 month rule of hers).  While I hate the idea of having to spend hour upon hour in that scary chair, I take comfort in knowing that every second in that chair means one that I’m not at work. You know things are bad at work when the best part of your day is leaving early to go to the dentist’s office.

Nothing like having gloved hands shoved in your mouth while being asked questions about your summer vacation plan to make you question your existence.

Justin Timberlake isn’t the only one bringing sexy back

2 May

That’s right, fans.  I’m taking matters into my hands and doing what it takes.

And by “matters” I mean “every snack food I can find” and “doing what it takes” I mean “shoving them down my throat”.

Stupid PMS.  How is it possible to have so many cravings that can never be satisfied? It’s a miracle I haven’t eaten the island in the middle of my kitchen.  The only reason I haven’t tried it is because it’s black and gray and I can’t think of any appetizing foods that are black and gray.

In the last 45 minutes I hoovered:

  • An entire bag of chips
  • 3 candy bars (the mini ones)
  • A bowl of ice cream
  • 2 pieces of cheese
  • 1/4 herb turkey
  • 1 mango

I also managed to break out with 2 brand new pimples.  Welcome Simone and Simone 2!

Next up I’m going to sit on the couch and sob my way through the latest episode of Game of Thrones.  First I need a big glass of wine so I can rehydrate myself from all the tears I’m going to shed.

How much longer until menopause and hot flashes?

Let’s schedule a meeting to meet about the meeting 

2 May

Why? Why do we do this? How many hours of our lives (and the lives of others) are we wasting on talking about pointless things like who is formatting the PowerPoint deck, who will bring copies, what to do if so-and-so brings up finance, who will monitor the clock? It boggles my mind that some people have to plan down to the last detail – including who is going to close the meeting.

You know who cares?  No one.  Not a single soul cares.

Except for maybe the douche bag executive I work with.  He gets pissed – not even making this up – if the staple on a deck isn’t placed in the proper place.  He’s been known to tear it in to, and send someone out of the room to make copies again in the right place.  This is a man with an advanced degree, relatively good hair, and an ego that can barely fit in the room.

WHY??

Really?  Does the placement of the staple matter that much?  Is it such an inconvenience to perhaps remove the staple to reveal the corner word?  No, not really. What’s even less convenient is having to sit in that room in a meaningless meeting knowing that seconds of our lives are ticking away.  Seconds that could be spent with loved ones instead of reviewing bar charts that everyone will immediately forget.

Can we make a pact? Let’s do it. I will if you will. The next time someone invites us to a meeting let’s slap them in the mouth and yell, “no!”

What say you?

‘Merica

30 Apr

This. This right here is why we’re all fat in America and why the world hates us. 


What the double fuck? And why do we need this? And who is going to want to eat this? Other than stoners, drunk college students, people who lose bets, and a handful of people obsessed with Funyons. 

Seriously. Who thought that up? Listen, I like processed food too, but there’s got to be a limit at some point. We can’t be turning EVERYTHING into a taco shell and filling it with crap. And when you decide to alter the taco, there are rules. First and foremost let’s talk about taco shells. Real Mexicans don’t eat taco shells. We, the inventors of the taco, know the real way to eat tacos involves a corn or flour tortilla (one that is NEVER heated in a microwave)

I mean really, let’s deconstruct this. You are shoving a hamburger patty into a funyon taco shell and smothering it ketchup. No. No, you can’t do that. That is a crime against tacos. It is against all things that are good and holy to put ketchup in a taco. You might as well put ketchup on cereal.  No. YOU CAN’T DO THAT!!

I’m ashamed to be American right now. 

Be like Nike and just do it

25 Apr

There are times at work when I’m tempted to walk to someone’s desk, punch him in the throat, and then walk away.

This is one of those moments.

I landed in this high fallutin executive job awhile ago. In an ideal world people are supposed to do what I tell them. In the real world they stare blankly and drool on their desks. I’m not asking for someone to build a rocket that can go to Mars or for them to develop a cure to male pattern baldness. All I need is one lousy stinking report so that it can be sent to my uppity douche of a client.

Instead I get a series of inane questions and a request for a meeting. Great. Another pointless meeting. Just what the world needs now.

Here’s the agenda I’ll propose.

  • Stop being a douche bag (owner: asshole requesting the meeting)
  • Clarity on why you’re a douche bag (owner: me, 15 minutes)
  • Do as you’re told (owner: asshole requesting the meeting)

I have to practice controlling my eyes from rolling without giving myself a massive headache. Michael Phelps trained his entire life to became an zillion time gold medal olympian, if he can do it, then I’m pretty sure I can train myself to not roll my eyes.  Wish me luck.

TEAM CATHERINETTE!!

Sometimes I think I’m Garfield

29 Jun

I read the comics as a child.  What kid wasn’t into it?  Remember those days when Sunday papers had the big color comics spread.  I clearly remember running outside, leaving a paper trail of the stupid business and world news sections on the floor, and whipping open the comics section to find out the latest shenanigans that Calvin & Hobbs, Brunhilda, Mother Goose, and sometimes even Marmaduke were up to.

Then there was Garfield.  You remember him, right?  The overweight orange tabby cat who sassed his owner, harassed his fellow pet-roommate (Odie), and ate just about anything they put in front of him?  Then at some points – for some ungodly reason – they made a movie about him starring Jennifer Love Hewitt.  No shock that it was a total bomb.  No es bueno.

While I didn’t necessarily rush to read Garfield,  I could appreciate his wit, his laziness, his torture of Odie.  He was a bit of a dick really.  I mean, really, if you think about it, he was a prick.  I’d venture to say that he was the original grumpy cat. As I’ve grown into an adult, I reflect on how right Garfield was about how absolutely wretched Mondays are.

There is no greater evil on this Earth than a Monday morning.  Without a doubt I will wake up angry, bitter, sad, and frustrated – all at the same time.  This morning, for instance, the first think I said out loud was, “Fuck this,” as soon as the alarm went off.  Do you have any idea how sad it is to wake up alone in your house and have the first words out of your mouth – essentially spoken to the empty house – be “fuck this”?  That’s not cute.  Not cute.  I picture the day when one day some man is laying next to me on a Monday morning, the alarm goes off, and he wakes up to me saying, “Fuck this”.  What will he do?

I’m getting ahead of myself.  The likelihood of that happening is slim to none, especially if we consider my track record for sleeping ALONE every night for the last zillion billion years.

How’d we get on this topic?  Mondays, right…

Earlier this year I started watching Game of Thrones.  The further I got into it, and the more that King Joffrey (the most vile human being ever) was featured in the show, it became clear to me that Monday’s are to the world what King Joffrey is to Game of Thrones.  He is as ugly on the outside as he is on the inside.

Those of you who have seen the show know exactly what this means.  For those of you who don’t watch it, you should – and then you’ll see that I’m totes right.