The Sunday Night Poop

Hacky new year!

2011-12-27T00:10:00.005-05:00

The other day, on Christmas Eve, I was sitting on the couch with my laptop on Facebook. Someone messaged me. It was a friend, but not someone I am in touch with regularly. He graduated two years behind me.

This guy: Hi
How are you doing??

Yours truly: what's up (insert friend's name here), how are you?

TG:Am not too good at the moment

Rut-roh. I didn't like where this was going. I kept it breezy.

YT: I'm alright--just chillin' (aside from all of that, does anyone say "just chill in' anymore? I mean besides me? No? Okay.). I'm sorry you're not doing well.

TG: I am currently stuck in London,uk......got mugged at a gun point last night
(so I'm going to write a random friend on Facebook about it instead of filing a police report)

At this point it sounds eerily familiar to a sob story a (real) friend shared about one of her Facebook friends contacted her about (except I think that "friend" was in Scotland).

The rest of the conversation:

YT: Jeez. Awful--sorry. I hope you did not get hurt

TG: All cash,credit card including cell phones were stolen away
i was hurt on my head

YT: I'm so sorry. I hope you can get everything straightened out soon. Take care of yourself. I have to go, but I will keep you in my thoughts.

TG: Glad still have life and passport saved.......i need your help

You see? I tried to break off. When I got the "I need your help" line I knew for sure something was amiss. I emailed my friend with the pasted conversation to say "Hey someone is scamming me" since she is familiar with random peeps (Does anyone still say "peeps?" Just me? Okay.) writing sob stories from the UK.

So once I realized--hello, someone got hacked. Someone is not having an adventure gone awry. Someone is not suffering from a head injury. This guy is probably okay and probably would never Facebook message me. My friend emailed back with: "Well you know, you have to tell him he got hacked, right?"

Well, yes. It's an unwritten rule. Even though I told her, "No ma'am. I don't want to. I don't want have to hear a fake sob story about someone getting assaulted in the UK (you see? My imagination is still picturing a vicious mugging, Euro style). I tried to give myself an out--I don't even have his email address. But then I remembered--I am connected with him on LinkedIn.

So I wrote and told him he got hacked.

And he replied "I reset me (sic) password. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year"

Ohhh. Okay. You're welcome. Do I need to add I pictured you on a dark London street with blood oozing from your ear and I wasted time feeling bad about it for you to be grateful?! Because I did!

Why do people not even say thanks for the heads up? It's almost like you're wrong for even saying anything. I did the same thing when Steve Jobs died and all of that crap about Free iPads was going around "in honor of Steve Jobs." I told someone THAT was fake and the guy just deleted it from his page. No "Thanks." No warning to anyone else. Just delete. Poof. It never happened. Ohhh! You're welcome.

I think people are ashamed to admit they fell for the okey doke (I do it every day). If you call that out publicly (see also: replying to alarmist emails with a link to snopes disproving it), you're the bad guy, not the one pulling the hoax or hacking the account.

Today I saw someone post this. And I thought "No way did she fall for this. How is 100 shares on Facebook giving someone a free heart transplant. That HAS to be fake." I googled (the truth is out there), had my suspicions confirmed and said nothing. Someone else can be the messenger this time.

The Good Baby

2011-11-26T12:28:00.000-05:00

So the new kid is nearly 4 months old and the general consensus is that she is a "good" baby. It seems that a baby who is quiet unless she needs sleep, food or to be changed is "good." Does anyone ever say "Oh, this is a BAD baby. She's just awful! Send her back."

How high can you go?

2011-11-13T09:28:00.004-05:00

To all of the ladies out there, please know that when you are ~~hobbling around in~~ wearing these:

I am watching, and waiting to see if you fall on your arse.
Sincerely,
-G

We knew this was coming

2011-10-10T14:07:00.003-04:00

The last keynote Steve Jobs hosted, he looked thin. Like scary-thin. Knife thin. Turn to the side and vanish thin. iPhone thin. Had enough? Moving on...

He just didn't look well. I feel sad that he's gone. My best friend emailed me and for a few minutes I enjoyed my husband's blissful ignorance before I told him.

In the 90's I used to wonder why computers were that awful "putty" color. You would have your big ol' desktop or tower, a clunky monitor and matching keyboard and it was a big ol' pile of fug. And I used to wonder why it didn't look better? In college I used some shiny purple gift wrap from a present (I don't even remember who gave it to me) and I fashioned a frame for my clunker monitor. It was an attempt. Colored appliances were still unheard of. Later, when I tried to explain this to my husband, he said "Who cares what it looks like! It's just a computer!"

Not to Apple. These fascinated me. I wanted to make the switch, but my husband was hesitant. Then when we finally switched, (in this case, the iPod was the Gateway drug, and an Apple store employee admitted that all of the smaller devices are gateway drugs for the iMacs and MacBooks) it was "Why didn't we do this sooner?" This is what most people say after switching. After, my husband would marvel at the tight packaging and the design. And how well everything worked together. No more "Who cares what it looks like!" No more "it's JUST a computer."

Then the iPhone came out. We watched the keynote for that too. No one knew what it would look like. There were all kinds of drawings. Would there be a plastic keypad? A stylus? It was hard to imagine a smart phone without these things. They seemed necessary. Now they seem kind of silly. And now, people complain that the newest iPhone is a letdown. At some point you do something so well, people reach unrealistic expectations. It's like they totally forgot -- just a few years ago people did not love their phones.

If you have it in your house, it should be nice to look at. If you're going to spend a lot on it, it should be easy to use and you should love it. This all seems obvious, but so many techie companies completely missed the mark. One guy got it, and figured out how to design products with the obvious in mind.

Cardinal sins of Facebook

2011-10-10T13:28:00.005-04:00

This isn't directed at anyone (okay, it kind of is, but I'm not into direct confrontation, so I'll just leave the names out of it). This is just a post of what annoys me (what else is new?)

1) Status updates that try to guilt/dare/bully/cajole/pressure you into copying and pasting by lumping you into a statistic. I tried to come up with one, but it sounded really lame and the real ones people post illustrate what I mean so much better. The generic format is: Righteous comment with possibly exaggerated or false information that may have some shock value. Random percentage of people who are too lame/lazy/cynical/selfish/thoughtless to re-post comes next. If you are not one of those losers, copy and re-post.

Here goes:

One day a father gets home angry & drunk. He takes out his gun & kills his wife, & then he shoots himself. His daughter was sitting behind the couch crying. When the police came they took the girl & gives her to her new family. The first day she attended church & notices a picture of Jesus Christ on the cross. She then asks her teacher "how did that man get down from the cross?" The teacher respon...ded "he's never gotten down!" Then the girl said: Yes he has because the day my parents died, he was with me behind the couch telling me everything was going to be alright. 66% of you won't re-post this. But remember that in the Bible it says "Deny me in front of your friends & i will deny you in front of my father." Post if your not embarrassed.

I'm embarrassed. Embarrassed that among all the repostings and whatnot, someone could not edit it to say "you're" instead of "your." Let's not even get into that ran...dom ellipsis.

And also, I want to know who comes up with the percentages. It's usually not a fraction, but a percentage. This one is odd because it uses 66%. Usually the percentage is in the high 90's. I want to reply and ask for the documentation to confirm these results. Did someone do a study on this? Are they using EVERYONE on Facebook, or only those who have friends that post this kind of thing? I want the details.

2) Giveaways. The latest: Steve Jobs died and Apple is giving away 1000 iPads! Just click this innocent li'l linky-poo and you could be a winner.

Do I have to say it? "If it seems too good to be true..."

I have one friend who posted it and I replied with a link and "It's probably too good to be true." Poof, he deleted it without even saying "Thanks for the heads up." Hmph.

3) Self promotion. I violated this one the other day. My friend Micki read "Coldest Winter Ever." I thought, Ooo, oo! I read it too. I posted a blog link in the comments. Then I felt icky and deleted it. I did not want to pimp my blog on someone's status update. It seems really tacky to me. I barely even pimp my own blog on my page. I do not want to bombard people with my two cents. Do I look like Andy Rooney to you? If they find their way to my blog, cool, if not, it's okay. I have read the book though, and here's what I thought. I obviously have no problem pimping my blog on my blog.

4) Inane (mis)quotations

“The thing about quotes from the internet is that it’s hard to verify their authenticity.” – Abraham Lincoln

2 months later...

2011-10-07T11:38:00.008-04:00

I am now thinking about going back to work. I feel a little like Marsha the mannequin from the Twilight Zone episode "The After Hours." Maybe the Monday I'm supposed to go back I'll "forget" and someone will give me a phone call to clue me in.

I am *almost* ready to return. I guess what I don't like is that it's not on my terms, but what is allowed by law. If I stay out longer, my company has the right to can me. It's not really the best motivator, but it'll do.

Then there is the issue on pumping. I am returning with faith that the people who manage the office space have found a spot for me that is not a bathroom, and not a place where people will barge in while I'm topless. I made this need known in April, so I'm assuming that was plenty of time. That's six months of warning. Almost seven.

I bought work clothes yesterday (groan). I am two sizes away (okay, let's be honest...three sizes. But I will settle for two) from where I want to be and the heaviest I have ever been. I don't know why I expect the 9 months of pregnancy and the extra I was carrying around before the 9 months is automatically supposed to fall off. It's not. It will with some work, but I had this unrealistic expectation that nursing would burn off the excess. While the kid is eating around the clock and she has nearly doubled her weight in two months (Li'l Miss Colossus is in the 98th percentile), it's not enough. I have been walking, I have been sort of doing the "Tupler Technique" I have to give myself more time. I guess with things like Facebook, I feel even more inadequate. I have a college classmate who had her baby a week after I had mine and she posted a photo of herself in a bikini and her husband holding the baby (proof that this is not some old photo) and she looks amazing. I have another college classmate who has 6 children and also sported a bikini photo over the summer. You would never guess that toned up midsection ever harbored a human being, never mind SIX.

But it's Facebook. People only post the flattering photos. You're not going to see everyone who's let themselves go, or who is now sporting cottage cheese on the thigh region, or who has stretch marks. Facebook reflects only the best side of everyone's lives which can make life seem even more unfair than it really is.

verdict

2011-10-02T21:28:00.003-04:00

***WARNING***If you don't want to read another post about footwear, skip this post.

I ordered these in black suede...size 8 1/2. I waited for them to arrive and...they fit.

And also, let me give a special thanks for the shoe designing geniuses that realized the need for wide calf boots. I can still remember being a college student, ordering a pair of knee high boots from the J. Crew catalog (yes, the catalog. Remember those?), and when they arrived, being elated that they fit my feet and then dismayed when they did not zip all the way up. I can't blame fatness on this as I was 40 pounds lighter, 15 years younger and in the best shape of my life. I just have "generous" calves. They just plain did not fit, and no amount of wedging leg flesh in and pulling the zipper together would work. You can maneuver clothes in an overstuffed piece of luggage and you can suck in your gut while laying in the bed when zipping too tight jeans, but leg fat has nowhere to go. So hallelujah, the boots fit my feet AND my ~~piano~~ legs, and if you know me, you already know I didn't pay the price listed in the link above.

Tweethacked!

2011-09-19T14:23:00.005-04:00

No, not me, but my sister--this morning I received this:
This made me laugh so hard when i saw this about you lol a6r.org/MKijV8ch (<---don't go there!)I thought it was a little weird, since we usually just email each other, but like an idjit, I clicked the link. It led me to what I thought was Twitter's homepage, so like an idjit, I logged in. And then came to a page claiming Twitter was having technical difficulties. I returned to the message, clicked the link, lather, rinse, repeat (you know, like a really big idjit), same results.But I want to see what she saw about meeee, I thought. Then I looked at the web address and thought--Twittejr.com? waiiiit a minute--this is not Twitter.

Clever hacker.

(yes, I know, I once posted this, and though I have created an account, I obviously have remained somewhat clueless about the mysteries of the Twitter.)

Desperately seeking studs

2011-09-14T13:57:00.005-04:00

I love studs. There, I said it. I love studded things.

I like this. I stalked and bought this. I have leather gloves with studs, shoes and boots with studs and a belt with rounded studs. The issue then becomes making sure you only have one of these items on your body at a time. It's the same dilemma that comes with wearing animal print.

"Oh that trend won't last much longer" my mom said one or two years ago, but thankfully it's still going strong.

I was watching Life on Mars on Netflix. (Sidenote: TV shows always make the past look better than it actually did) This show takes place in 1973, the fashion dark ages, but there was a female character wearing a beige corduroy blazer and it had (wait for it) flat antique studs around the lapels. I thought, "Hey I have a beige corduroy blazer. I don't wear it as much as I should but maybe if I..." (runs off to Google)"...get crafty and put some studs on the lapel..."

You see? This is how it gets out of hand. I was actually contemplating a BeDazzler! Then I looked up reviews on Amazon and they are not so dazzling.

Hustle

2011-09-14T12:11:00.003-04:00

I've written before about people having a hustle. I knew an Army major who would go to car auctions and find a car that someone wanted. She would pay the auction price and make money off of the difference the client was willing to pay. I have a friend who would do focus groups and mystery shop, and do product sample displays where people shopped. And we already know about Mary Kay and Avon (and Pampered Chef, Tupperware, and every other item you don't buy in the store that people throw "parties" for).

I think eBay is a great idea. Buy something for a bargain or regular price if it's in demand, and then set your price on eBay. It's going on right now with the Missoni for Target stuff. I think I could do that. Except I'm lazy. And maybe a small part of me feels bad jacking up the price of something well beyond what is on the tag (yes, I know, finder's fee and people are willing to pay). But mostly I'm lazy.

To the nines

2011-09-14T11:34:00.012-04:00

I bought a pair of shoes while pregnant and I anticipated my post pregnancy shoes size while doing so. The shoes arrived and I tried them on, but they didn't fit. "Well, let's wait till I'm not pregnant and give it another go then." They still don't fit (sad horn). I had them in the donation pile when I realized my mom could wear them. They fit her. They look cute on her. So while I don't get them, at least I can visit with them. I'm not so worried about the new shoes though. It's the shoes I already know and love that pose a problem. Some of those shoes used to fit. And some of them were not cheap. They are in storage since we are getting the house ready to sell ~~someday~~. I have this itch to go to the storage unit and find that box so I can try my favorites and be reassured that all is not lost.

I have a cute pair of flats that are still in the closet (not that there's anything wrong with that). I wore them to the first post baby date (Contagion, starring Matt Damon). They usually fit perfectly. This time they were slightly...tight. By the time we reached the theater they were uncomfortable. "I'm just not used to wearing closed shoes, that's all," I told myself. "I've spent the past 5 months in flip flops and my feet don't like being fenced in. They'll adjust." I even sort of said this to my husband for what? I don't know. Maybe some reassurance? It was one of those things where you add in a nervous laugh to show it's not really a big deal. Oh heh-heh, I may have to replace my entire shoe collection, but more shopping, right? Yay?

By the time we got home, I kicked off the shoes. The next day I looked up shoe stretching stuff on Amazon. There was a spray you could buy for leather shoes. One of the reviewers said you could mix alcohol and water and save yourself twelve bucks. I pulled out my husband's shoe trees and went to work a-sprayin' and a-stretchin. It helped. Some.

But there's a bunion. It's on the right foot. It's not big and obnoxious or hammer-time-y but it's there. People label problem areas on their body and my foot has its own problem area. The foot stuff started after my last pregnancy when I lived in flip flops. In the words of the podiatrist, "You're the youngest person I've seen with a heel spur." And on the bunion, she remarked, "Well, aging sucks."

So yesterday I bought a pair of shoes at T.J. Maxx. There were three in 8 1/2. I used to be a solid 8. After my first pregnancy, between 8 and 8 1/2. I'm assuming that now I am in the 8/1/2 to 9 range.

I went to the 9 aisle first. The 9 fit, but was a little loose. I went to the 8 1/2. The bunion was not happy. I went back and grabbed the 9. Then this morning, like a nerd, I looked up the shoe online and the reviewers said it was not true to size, which was slightly comforting. I don't know if I'm an 8 1/2 or a 9, though. I don't want to be in denial, shoving my feet into too small shoes because I can't accept the truth. My mom used to do this. Trying on too-tight shoes and saying "It's okay, they'll stretch." and I would say, "Why don't you just get shoes that fit?" Now I get it. When you are ~~5' 2 1/2~~ five foot three, size 9 is veering into boat territory. Just look at the display shoes in the store. Unless the small sizes are gone, that shoe will be a size 6, or 7 max. You know, the cute sizes, where the little details catch your eye instead of the length of the shoe. Then you look in the shoeboxes of the bigger sizes of that same style and ohhh. Not so cute.

It is all good if you're tall and the feet are in proportion but my feet are growing and I am not.

A Fool and her money

2011-09-08T12:07:00.008-04:00

On a message board I visit, there was a post about Hunter boots. The boots in question are pictured above. She was asking if anyone had them, as she was considering a purchase. One of the people who has them and responded kindly (with a recommendation of where to buy them at a discount) pointed out elsewhere that this same person previously commented on the same boots with "Aren't those like $100?" (you could almost hear the hysteria while reading it). As in, "What kind of fool would spend $100 on some rubber boots?" It looks like pure hypocrisy as this person has now become the kind of fool that is willing to spend that much, but that's not how I took the alarmed response. I took it as, "I like those but I'm trying to justify why I would buy them." It's the agony of a ~~cheap~~ ~~thrifty~~ frugal person. I can relate to this.

There have been times where I have wanted a certain item but balked at the price. So what do you do when this happens? If the item never goes on sale or your size is sold out, you look for the ~~cheaper~~ less expensive alternative, usually made by another manufacturer. Sometimes it's a similar thing, but not a flat out knock off. Sometimes it's a blatant copy of something else (Sidenote: Skechers, you have no shame). Sometimes the copy is okay to get you by, but most of the time I wind up thinking, "It's close, but it's not what I really wanted." This means I wind up spending more because I go back for the real thing. When buying the faux version, I not only do I waste money, I also waste colossal amounts of time trying to decide what to do (buy the knock off? Get the knock off, decide I don't like it? Bite the bullet and buy the real thing...and so on. It would be a hell of a flow chart but illustrating that thought process would waste even more time. Let's just say I'm an all or nothing kind of girl (gal?) and probably better off buying the real deal if it's important. It's not like this with everything, though. I don't have a second thought over Heinz Ketchup vs. Noname Catsup. This agonizing only applies to big ticket items.

As for the boots above--I love them in that color. I might talk myself into getting them, however I am blessed with ~~fat~~"healthy" calves and the wide calf versions don't come in cute colors, which means this fool will have to spend her $100 on something else.

Contradiction?

2011-08-31T11:13:00.001-04:00

Is it wrong to purchase a milkshake blade and a book titled "Lose your Mummy tummy" in the same order?

(Don't answer that.)

Avon calling

2011-08-30T12:43:00.005-04:00

So I went to Aldi's yesterday. While in line, a woman struck up a conversation. We joked about not getting a cart (you have to pay 25 cents for a cart and you get your quarter back when you return the cart...but anyway). I said carts tie you down. It is the truth. Plus you tend to buy more with a cart (though Target shopping has taught me how to weigh down a basket).

She asked if I took the day off. I said "No...actually I'm on maternity leave." She eyed my stomach and didn't say anything (I was expecting "where's the baby?" but maybe she thought I was still pregnant? Hopefully not. Anyway.) Somehow we got to the "Do you work for yourself" question. I don't know how it got so personal, it was not a long line and she hemmed and hawed getting to that point. Then came the inevitable "Would you like to?"

We know where this is going, right? Be your own boss, sell (insert product here). Except with those things, you're not your own boss. She passed me her Avon card. But here is the thing--she took a day off. From some kind of job that pays the bills and I am willing to bet it wasn't Avon. Unless you are at the corporate level, harassing people in line at the discount grocery store and going door to door pimping skin so soft is probably not going to pay your mortgage, and even if it does, you're still working for someone else. You're not really the captain of your ship.

If you know me at all, you know I didn't say any of this. I just told her to enjoy the beautiful day.

Night at the Fair

2011-08-26T13:08:00.006-04:00

How do you know when you're getting old? When rides feel more like you're cheating some kind of "final destination" type death and less like fun. Yes, we went to the county fair. After perusing the livestock, and consuming ice cream we took our daughter on some of the rides. I tried not to eyeball the distance I was above the ground or think about what might happen if the ride dumped me onto said ground, and whether or not I would survive such a fall. I tried not to think about how often these rides undergo safety inspections. Really, I tried.

Then there is the fair food. I tried not to think about how sanitary some of the food booths were or the cow manure smell that kept wafting around while I attempted to enjoy a root beer float. For the main course, I kept it to a burger, a small Sprite (sans ice) and a few fries. Like I said, old.

Where the earth moves

2011-08-24T10:44:00.001-04:00

Yesterday we had an earthquake. I thought it was a gust of wind, but then the house kept shaking. And kept shaking. Aaaand kept shaking. It reminded me of the '89 earthquake (yes, I am taking it back to the 9th grade).

I have felt four earthquakes in my life--2 in California and 2 here. Oddly enough there was one last year and the epicenter was a couple of miles from my house.

Even odder, for all of these quakes, I was in the master bedroom. There is a joke in there somewhere, but I am too slow/lazy/tired to make it.

Turn my headphones down (the unfriending of D.J. Fisticuffs)

2011-08-11T11:03:00.002-04:00

I know I have talked about self-promotion before. I don't know why or how things have come to this--if you have completed something you then need to pimp it. The problem with this is the attention goes to the loudest people, not necessarily the best. And there is no way to know if it's good. You can't rely on a critic with similar taste. Instead, what you have is the person who created the work yelling and hollering at you that it's good, or at the very least, informing you that their product (music, books, lecture series, and so on) is coming out so you'd better get in on it.

I just unfriended someone for this. Honestly, I don't remember the guy, but I think we went to college together. Lately he has been talking about his music. It's on iTunes, It's this, its that. On his wall he is soliciting:

FaceBook Homies...I need help! Who is dope at graphic design! And I mean dope...like you know that shit like the back of your hand????
HIT ME ASAP PLEASE!

(As an aside...Homies? Dope? People still talk like this?)

The only reason this irks me is because I had a baby last week and among the congratulatory messages on my wall was one from this guy in an effort to make me aware that his music is out. If it has any of the language of that wall post requesting graphic artists, I probably won't be listening. It's back to the Wiggles and ABC's for a few years for me. But also, I just had a baby, idjit. Don't post that crap on my wall and then continue to post the same garbage on everyone else's wall, especially when it appears your friend request was just a way to garner a captive audience to your crap.

And also, when people pimp themselves like this, I tend to think the product is probably, well, not good. Post a sample or something. Let us take a listen before telling us to hurry to iTunes for a purchase (yes, I know you can sample on iTunes, but i don't even want to make that much of an effort). It's much easier to click "unfriend" and move on with my life.

"a medium to large size breed of domestic dog that originated in Rottweil, Germany"

2011-07-28T09:27:00.003-04:00

Self publishing is getting big, and with eBooks it's becoming more affordable for people to get themselves out there and let the readers be the gatekeepers. But if you self-publish, please make sure you do your best to make sure what you're putting out there is actually good.

There is a graduate from my college who has published two "books." There are samples available on Barnes and Noble and you can buy it there or on Amazon. He also sends out messages through the graduate network when these books are released. I read the sample of the first book and was not inspired to buy. Out of morbid curiosity, I checked out the second book. In it was a scene where he described a neighbor with two big, tough dogs. He even named the breed. I had to read the breed name twice to make sure I wasn't seeing things. What kind of dog was it, you ask?

A "Rawtwhiler."

Read that. Sadly I am not kidding. And he used this spelling twice. Even on blogger there is a dashed red underline beneath that word, telling me something is not quite right. If you Google that word, the correct spelling will come up. If he used a word processor, I'm betting it would not have made it through spellcheck. This is basic stuff, no need for a fancy pants editor to catch it. He could have gotten someone to read it, or you know, ran it through spellcheck.

Role reversal

2011-07-27T17:05:00.003-04:00

I like having an almost 6 year old. It's fun. I love babies (don't you love that disclaimer? As if someone would admit to hating a baby?), but I think I'm a better parent to a potty trained kid who has grown to have a better understanding of the world. The fun part sometimes deals with language. She knows many words, but not all of the right ones to describe what she has in mind. It makes for interesting conversations.

Last weekend we saw "Captain America" in the theater. She said "Is that the guy with the shield?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Who was he reversing?"

After some explaining on her part, we figured out she was asking who was his nemesis.

Last weekend

2011-07-27T16:58:00.010-04:00

Last weekend I met the son of my husband's parents' family friends. It was kind of a big deal because this couple sort of lived parallel lives with my in-laws. Both couples had two sons, and I know my husband's "counterpart" also was in the military (if you count the Air Force). I have heard about this family a lot over the years.

Anyway, last Saturday I finally met this alter ego and extended my hand for a shake only to be rebuffed with "Don't get too close! I don't want any more kids."

I backed off and said, "Oh-kay."

Who says this? It's not necessary or even remotely funny. If you think about it for too long, your head may hurt.

His wife saved the day with: "It's not contagious!"

The comeback came to mind two hours too late but I'll share it here. Ready?

"You know, there's a surgery for that."

So simple, yet so woefully late.The timely comeback is my main argument for time machines. I am queen of thinking up the ill-timed comeback and then not sharing it because it would look idiotic to say something when the moment has already been long forgotten. This is why I write. You have all the time you need to come up with witty dialogue and snappy comebacks.

I liked his wife right away. I got the feeling that he was outmatched. You know that feeling? When you think one half of the couple outshines the other? Here is another example--the wife said I looked "small." This is great to hear when 1) you know you are not small and 2) you are at the full term point of your pregnancy and 3) the person who is saying it is pretty petite herself. Even if she was not being honest, it was convincing.

The husband added: "Yeah! YOU were HUGE!"

Again, was that necessary?

Obviously the parallel life stuff did not account for personality. My husband does not say these things, EVEN IF I SAY IT ABOUT MYSELF and I actually am huge. Instead it's "Well (duh), you are carrying a child" and if the situation calls for it, a hug is thrown in. He knows better and likely will not say something like this because he knows I carried his kids, I put on the necessary weight to grow them and I did it for the better part of a year. But this other guy? That appreciation seemed totally lost on him.

Other things

2011-07-27T09:58:00.003-04:00

I have a bunch of thoughts that can not justify their own blog posts, but collectively I could cobble something together. I can not promise it will be interesting.

Twitter: I have an account. I don't do much with it and have not checked it in weeks. So many have ditched Facebook for Twitter and I guess I'm just not catching on. And I have also received a Google+ invitation. I don't even know what that is (and have not Googled--heh, heh--to investigate the details). I can not keep up.

Office microwave etiquette: My husband heated fish in his office microwave and told me it stunk up the place. What did he expect? After 8 years on the road as a sales rep, he does not know certain unspoken rules of the office. The big one is not to heat fish in the microwave. And not a rule, but more of a law of nature: If you pop popcorn, in the office microwave it will burn.

Words with friends vs. Scrabble on iPhone. Sure, they look the same and operate on the same concepts, but I am good at Words with Friends and I suck at Scrabble.

In the past two weeks I have removed a sizable hair clog from the guest tub and two from two sinks. It's not an exercise for the weak-stomached. Drano has nothing on my hair, so I try to pull out what I can before resorting to chemicals. I had to finish off the second sink with the tiny sink plunger, but it drains now. I keep thinking if I had short hair, this wouldn't keep happening.

Last day at work

2011-07-26T22:00:00.004-04:00

Why was my very last week at work the busiest? I was doing my best not to leave a confusing mess behind (to minimize the possibility of panicked phone calls while I'm on leave, of course). This meant having a binder filled with all of the information I thought was helpful and directly related to my responsibilities as well as two electronic versions--found on a shared network drive and on our SharePoint site. I tried to leave written explanations where I thought they were necessary and send emails highlighting what were possibly going to be issues while I am away.

The most interesting comment? "I didn't realize you did so much."

Uh, thanks? I don't toot my horn and there are plenty of days when I don't do so much but most jobs turn into problems only when something goes neglected. Also, the people talking about how much they do are usually doing just that. Talking.

I also felt like I was getting tasked with stuff BY PEOPLE WHO SAW ME ALMOST DAILY. Like stuff that was due well past the time I planned to leave. As if I am just getting bigger in the gut area because I have a beer problem? I sent a few "I am not doing this, I am on maternity leave when it's due, so find someone else" (unsaid: Dumbass) messages (cc'ing at least one other witness so they can attest that I am indeed not going to be here and so they knew it needed to be handled) in response. What else can you do?

The last week consisted of 10 hour days, which was good, because it meant I could take the Friday off without eating up vacation time. It was bad because by the end of the day I was cranky and my feet were balloons. I rode down in the elevator with our boss, the promotable colonel who is in charge of the entire operation. His daughter just had his first grandchild last month, and he shared that she was off and not thinking about work. He assured me that everything will be here when I get back and told me not to worry.

I won't.

Impulse buy

2011-07-26T19:51:00.002-04:00

So....I was perusing the swimsuits that did not have crotches like tapeworm heads and happened upon this one at a steep discount in a size that I assume will fit once I am back to being a body without a person contained inside of it (and I am not talking inner child, I mean an actual growing person, albeit a small one). It was cheap because it was the laaaaaast one.

Keep your fingers crossed for me!

A serious question

2011-06-30T21:45:00.002-04:00

Does the swimsuit pictured look good on anyone? I think *they* call it a "monokini," but I have to be honest: the crotchal region reminds me of the head of a flatworm.

No?

Pissy Pregnant lady holds her tongue and saves her vitriol for the blog, News at 11

2011-06-23T20:44:00.003-04:00

Dear cashier who rang up my lunch,
when I asked how much the fountain drinks cost, the reply, "Soda? You don't need soda, you need to drink water" was the wrong answer.

1) Fuck you.
2) I drink 2 liters of water a day at my desk, excuse me if I want some variation.
3) I was getting green tea since the bottled version of it costs almost twice as much.
4) Fuck you.

It's that time again

2011-05-31T21:22:00.001-04:00

The time when I have to renew my registration for my car. Of course I got the notice earlier this month, but in my usual style, I would much prefer to renew on the nearly the last hour of the last day that my current registration is still valid. It keeps life exciting (yes, I know I'm lying to myself, work with me). Then I have to print out the handy dandy temp registration to float me until the replacement decals arrive. At this point it's gone beyond being a bad habit. It's more of a tradition.

Cheap Fun

2011-05-17T21:47:00.002-04:00

Courtesy of the Thinkbabynames.com Random name generator:

Bluebell Stetson
Rufina Patient
Athie Brucie
Wren Madison
Beyonce Kia
Nefertiti Angle
Diamond Seema
ZsaZsa Fina

Bacon and eggs

2011-05-09T20:11:00.011-04:00

On my LinkedIn account, I clicked a few links to discover that I am three degrees from Kevin Bacon. Interesting, right? No? He also spells “Bacon” in his listed email address with a zero instead of an O. So apparently some “lesser” Bacon already took the Kevin.Bacon username. Then again, if you were Kevin Bacon wouldn’t you have your own set up? Like you wouldn’t need gmail or yahoo as your email domain? Maybe this isn’t THE Kevin Bacon, despite the film credits listed in the profile. Waaait a minute, this is probably not Kevin Bacon at all. More like Kevin Fake-in’. Yeah, I know. Nothing gets past me.

I am still considering the self publishing route. This is after years of believing and sometimes outright stating that self-published authors are hacks. Here comes the backpedaling: things are changing and people are hiring their own editors, cover designers and people to format their books. Sometimes authors that were previously published the old way have decided to take business into their own hands. I have to weigh whether I am considering this to avoid the painful search for an agent followed by the search for a publisher that wants what the agent is pushing process or if I think what I have is good enough to do well on its own. I think I know the answer, and maybe it’s: Try it the old way and if, after a certain amount of time, nothing happens, then self publish. But I know I will need to invest in a decent editor and cover designer first. I do not want to produce a work of crap. I will also have to do something very difficult—self promote. I seem to be able to do this in a resume and at job interviews, and I have to look at this the same way--it's a job. Whatever I do, I can tell you the current method of leaving it on the hard drive isn’t working.

I’ve been avoiding posting because I don’t want to come off as the cranky pregnant lady. I can’t quite explain the logic in my thinking here—wait three more months till I’m just the plain non-pregnant run-of-the-mill cranky lady? Meanwhile we are wasting away in Blogaritaville. While people mean well (yes, I know, they really do, please don’t remind me) they also think it’s necessary to comment on you like you’re public property. Like my husband’s uncle asking him “Is she exercising?” Uh, are you? Would you even care if I wasn’t the life support for someone else? Or random people asking when you’re due, only to remind you that it will be smack in the middle of a hot, swampy summer when August hits (Because really? I had no idea) and then keep harping on it as if it’s a tragedy that cannot be overcome. Did air conditioning and ice water somehow disappear from the earth while I wasn’t paying attention?

So for work, there’s an organizational day (AKA “mandatory fun” event) coming up, and to defray the cost, there are various fundraisers planned. The latest one in our office was chili and hotdog sale at lunchtime, AKA heartburn and preservatives. I did not contribute. Why? This is going to sound petty, or maybe it won’t. As a contractor who works here every day, who is otherwise considered part of the organization when there is work to be done, we have to take paid time off to participate in said mandatory fun. Where I work, contractors are most of the bodies that fill the seats, but when it comes to these events, I am willing to bet we will get many emailed reminders telling us that our place of duty that day is in the office. So it’s perfectly okay to take our money, but not okay for us to attend unless we do it on our own time. Be sure to stay tuned for the whining that will happen later, when shockingly, very few people participate.

Last week at work I got into a yelling match over the phone. Not very professional, I know. I will preface this story by saying the person on the other end started it, and is notorious for being a yeller. She also apparently works from home. I’m going to take a guess that there’s a good reason that she is not in an office environment with other people. Why does she get the benefit of telecommuting because she’s a jerk? But here is the real question—why do people just accept this? Why do people just roll their eyes and say “Oh, that’s just how she is?” One person who overheard me actually knew who it was without hearing her voice on the other end. Another gave me a high five after I hung up. Has anyone told this person that she is *that* person? Does this person realize no one wants to deal with her, that her email messages go unanswered because she is an incorrigible pain in the ass? I’m guessing no. But why is this? It’s not even that she is in a position of power, yet she stays employed and everyone else is forced to deal with it. When I yelled right back, and said I would hang up if she kept speaking to me that way, she calmed right down and admitted she didn’t know she was yelling. And she apologized. Lesson learned: Don’t try to out-crazy the pregnant lady, Mmm-kay?

Mother’s Day was okay. My husband attempted breakfast. This was a “bless his heart” moment. Once upon a time he used to cook for himself and was even competent with breakfast. Let’s just say he’s out of practice. I think eggs are right up there with pizza and burgers on this list of foods that you cannot eff up. I mean, you have to actively try to screw up eggs. And hurrah, he did it. I scooped out my portion of sticky scrambled eggs and tried hard not to mention the perimeter of oil surrounding them on my plate. Okay, I’m lying. I didn’t try that hard. Contrary to what one of my former section sergeants used to say, I don’t really believe there is a need to “lubricate the body.” This is also why I stay away from Popeyes chicken. Later, I didn’t feel so bad when he admitted that the eggs were “horrible.” Verdict: It was a failed omelet that morphed into a greasy mess. This was either an honest mistake, or more proof to support my theory that sometimes men purposely do things badly so the women in their lives will do it from that day forward.

E for entitled

2011-04-10T08:32:00.002-04:00

So the other day I took metro to work. I did this for years and most of the time it was fine. I decided to take one of the seats designated for handicapped people and seniors. While I am neither of those, I figured I was safe since I am obviously pregnant. Besides, there were seven other seats occupied by people who, from what I could tell, were not pregnant or in dire need of the seats.

You know where this is going, right? If you know anything about my kind of luck, you know where this is going.

So after a few stops, a woman gets on. I saw her for years and years on the train. I knew from her badge that she worked at the Pentagon. Who knows, maybe she knew me too (I’m inclined to say, probably not). So the train is packed and she’s standing. Then I hear a man beside her say, “Say ‘Excuse me.’” So she goes, “Excuse me,” and points to the handicapped sign over my head. I pull out my earbud.

“These seats are designated…”

This is being said with the lemon yellow SmarTrip card being brandished. She was literally pulling the senior card on me. I’ve seen her whip out the almighty card on someone else before and now it was my turn.

So I stood up (I should have placed a hand on the small of my back and struggled to rise for emphasis) and said “I sat here because I’m pregnant. I usually don’t take these seats.” I sat back down (imagining The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” theme playing in the background).

She says, “Oh, I see.” And instead of turning to one of the other seven candidates, she stands there like she’s going to patiently wait for the next 3 ½ months to pass until I have the baby and she can rightfully claim her seat.

Most people wouldn’t give this a second thought. All I could wonder was why I had been singled out. I wore my gray hoodie over my work clothes because the one fleece jacket that still fits just makes me look fat, and when you're pregnant and feeling fat it helps you feel better to wear clothes that help make the distinction, so I went with the hoodie. But the hoodie doesn't exactly say "Off to work", either. So did she come to me because I looked like schlubby and not on my way to a “real” job?

Or, in the words of my best friend, did she come at me to re-enact a Rosa Parks scene? I want to say probably not. I know there are people that would gladly go back to those days, but I hope the people I encounter are not like that. The thing is, you don’t know, and if you’re not white and this happens to you, you can’t help but wonder.

I want to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she just wanted that seat. She usually sits there, and here I was, taking “her” seat. Maybe it’s just a psychological thing. Or maybe she's just a classist/racist.

Run-in

2011-02-21T09:18:00.005-05:00

I ran into a former coworker during my walk to pick up lunch on Friday. I ~~was basically laid off~~ resigned in October 2009. I got the quick rundown on how everything has changed (of the twelve people that were on my old team, I think three are left. And two of those are managers. MMm-kay.). Anyway, I told her my company name and she squinted--you know, the way people do when they have never heard of what you just said. I wanted so badly to be smart about it, but I left it alone.

But the thing is, the name of the company I work for is in big giant letters on the top of the building where she works. So either she needs to look up more often or companies paying all that extra to have their name on the building are wasting their money.

Books

2011-02-21T07:20:00.009-05:00

Borders filed for bankruptcy. I have mixed feelings on this. I don't want to see a bookstore close and the Borders near me seems to do pretty good business. But they also insist on having the "Black book section." I haven't gotten into how much I hate this. No other group gets marginalized like this, but we're special. And while you're in that section, you will find anything from erotica, to "urban" lit to whatever else people think belongs there. If it's an Alice Walker or Toni Morrison work, I'm sure it will be placed with the "real" literature, but otherwise it will likely be placed with the AA books. To their credit, they did put a Tananarive Due book I read for a bookclub in the Horror section, but otherwise, this type of categorization makes no sense. I know some readers prefer to have that so they can find what appeals to them (if you are only reading books by one group...well...I'm glad you're reading, but you're missing out on a lot), but overall it's not doing black authors any good. So while it's sad that Borders is not doing so well, I would have more sympathy if they didn't insist on a separate but unequal section for "us." I am sorry that writers, especially midlist ones, will be negatively affected.

For the past six months I have been looking into what I need to do to get published. Writing the book doesn't even sound like the hardest part. You have to revise, get beta readers, incorporate feedback, write a query letter (which has to have a hook and enough pull in 300 words or less to make someone want to read more), have a "platform" get busy on Twitter and on the blog (ha) and so on. You have to build a following and then maybe, if someone is interested and the subject seems marketable, you get an agent. Then the agent must go around to publishers and pimp your story. Oh yeah, and then you still have to go on with your day job, because if you get a deal, it's unlikely that it will be enough for your to make a living.

I think what I have is marketable. There may be an issue with the era (early-mid 90's) but other than that, I think it can go somewhere. But this is not enough--I have to sell it to make someone else think it will go somewhere. The main character has my racial background and from what I have heard this is not a selling point. Sad. There is no major "struggle," no details on the history of slavery or the Civil Rights movement, sorry. There are annoyances that are race related that pop up here and there, but you get to know this character's personality first, and she never declares her race outright or constantly talks about it because people generally don't do this in real life. You figure it out by seeing the world from her eyes, and since I believe people are more alike than different, it's going to be a slight change in perspective, but the insecurities, the fears, and the triumphs of someone during their college years are there. I am not sure how to label it. For a liberal industry, there are some issues with white washing covers and being pigeonholed into writing your own race if you are not white. It's made me feel discouraged before I even send anything out.

There are some encouraging changes too, one which affected Borders-- e-book sales. There have been a few authors who are extremely successful going the non-traditional route. I usually laugh at people who self-publish, but some know what they're doing. If you price a book right and get the word out there through interviews and talking with readers, you can do pretty well. I'm going to consider this after the traditional route. Then there are some who self publish and then get picked up by a major publisher--it's not all gloom and doom, but the road seems to have a lot of detours.

Dear Target (AKA possibly the closest thing to an "announcement" as you will get)

2011-02-20T21:30:00.005-05:00

When you are selling Maternity jeans, wouldn’t it be a good idea to use accurate sizing, instead of having things run SMALL? Like 2 sizes too small? Yes, I bought the jeans anyway, but only after taking home the original pair and discovering they were cut more like a size 2 than a 12. Making jeans that run small for women that are expanding on a daily basis = not smart. And if the panel was just an inch higher, I could be sporting what appear to be strapless jeans. Not cute atall.

Blog awakes from two month coma, news at 11

2011-02-20T21:24:00.003-05:00

So, er, how 'bout them Packers? Uh, Valentine’s day? Happy new year? My resolution is to blog more.

*crickets*

(stop that laughing)

Purple Christmas

2010-12-22T21:50:00.006-05:00

My husband surprised me with an early Christmas gift. A trip to...
...a place that has this:

and this...

and views like this:

But that's not all! On Saturday night, we got to see the only person who would perform on a stage that looked like this:

He's awesome! (Oh, and so was Prince.)

It could have been worse.

2010-12-02T18:30:00.010-05:00

My husband and I carpool together. Well, one evening traffic was atrocious, so we took an alternate route. The issue is getting our daughter before the daycare closes. Once it closes it's a dollar a minute (CHA-CHING)! We took a back route that involved a ferry. It's a wee ferry, and old-timey and quaint when you're not racing the clock. I rustled up some cash. We zipped through town to the ferry dock and then...there was a line. A long line. A line that involved an hour of waiting for our turn on the ferry. At that point we had to wait it out.
So we waited.

And waited:

And then we were on:

We were so late. I even had a breakdown in the ferry line which required a counseling session from my husband. It was frustration for being helpless in that situation. In the end, we were 90 minutes late. That's $90, folks. CHA-CHING! And ouch. And sigh.

When I read this today, I knew the meaning of "And just when you think it couldn't get worse..."

Fa la la la la!

2010-11-28T21:08:00.012-05:00

Some people like doing gift exchanges. I can see how it would be fun. You can search for something for someone, wrap it up and send it off. Then, not only does that person receive your well thought out surprise, but you received your own little box full of treasures.

I don't do this. It is nothing against anyone, it's just that me, getting a gift together, packaging it, and sending it is too much. I didn't even get it together for my best friend. Her birthday gift was sent a month late. I know it's terrible, and it seems to get worse each year. This is why I opt out of gift exchanges. It really is me and not you.

There was a secret santa thing at one of my old jobs. I gave truffles and cookies from Trader Joe's and in the confusion, the gifts got split up. They were not very popular anyway, but this was not the worst gift. I received some kind of glass oil lamp/pipe-bong looking thing, and lots of laughter when I opened it in front of the entire division. It "accidentally" got left behind in the ladies room.

On one of the message boards I visit, they used to do these every year. One year I didn't get a gift. One year I was unemployed and really should have skipped it because I was scrambling. One year someone started a "What do you want," and it turned into someone's rant on what they didn't want. She went by a name of a pretty big basketball player. One that did a forgotten genie movie? One that hates Kobe Bryant? Anyway, after one person got the idea to maybe do videos (do you see how these things start small and turn into a project?) this person went on and on about how she didn't want to see a video of you, your kids or your pets because she wasn't interested and had no need for that and so on. How jolly.

Then, a few years ago, someone mentioned the holiday exchange. And I was one of the first to suggest skipping it, and from there it seemed like everyone was relieved to not go through it. From then on, we lived grinchily ever after.

She-Ra love

2010-11-23T18:26:00.002-05:00

Once in awhile I’ll find a gem on Netflix. This past Sunday it was “She-Ra” princess of power. Do you know about this? Just telling the backstory took five episodes. Five! That’s a lot of “To Be Continued…”’s going on. Don’t you hate that? You watch the clock, see that time’s running out and there is no possible way “the rest of the story” (said in my Paul Harvey voice) can be told. Then those dreaded words fill the screen (always with the ellipsis following). You think, Aw man, I have to wait. At least these shows ran daily and you could knock out the story in a week.

I watched this with my daughter. I got to explain that she was a princess and a superhero. She asked why Hordak snorted when he talked. She got a good laugh out of watching him.

My husband will say these shows were lame. He’s more of a Transformers and Thundercats kind of dude. I accept that the animation wasn’t the best, but here is what I liked about the Masters of the Universe. First, I know it was a marketing ploy to sell ~~dolls~~ action figures. But the they didn’t shy away from female characters (evil and good). If you were a girl, you didn’t have to look to the token girl character who added NOTHING (Cheetara, I’m looking at YOU). Men and women played equal roles (which is marketing brilliance, since you get twice as many viewers and twice as many ~~suckers~~ parents buying the toys). Sometimes there was flirting and jealousy (and oval shaped, sparkly magic portals to other planets!). It wasn’t all about boys.

Quoth the metro train operator:

2010-11-22T19:45:00.020-05:00

The guy operating tonight's train home occasionally said the following before shutting the doors and pulling away from the station:

"Step lively, doors closing."

STEP LIVELY! Almost makes you think he would purposely open and shut the train doors to make people on the platform do a desperate dance to get to the train in time. I know they have a schedule to keep, but how effective is hazing people who are paying a lotta money to ride the train? Then the perverse side of me wondered how Jame Gumb might say it.

It walks faster or else it gets the doors again?

I know, I have problems.

In other news, I don't usually take the train anymore. I have been riding shotgun with El Hubbo to work. He drops me off at work and picks me up on the way home. I know--spoiled. But days when he's not driving, I take the train. There's another car like mine in the parking garage, and we sometimes park together.

Exhibit A (one day):

Exhibit B (the next day):

We happen to arrive pretty close to each other in the morning, and so, we park together. This morning I actually felt bad when I took the spot between two already parked cars and he drove up and had to park in the open space on other side of one of the cars. Can you believe that? I felt guilty! I'm giving myself a complex over absolutely nothing. IT MAKES NO SENSE ATALL!

The driver of the darker blue one is a slim little old man who wears a cabby cap. We have seen each other a few times and once I asked how his car was holding up that winter. He responded, but with a "Why the hell are you talking to me, lady?" look on his face. Do you know that look? I hate that look. Anyway, aside from that failed exchange, we don't talk. We park next to each other, but don't talk, or acknowledge that we park beside each other. It's like Fight Club or something.

And then, sometimes, if the ~~stars~~ cars align just so...you get a jackpot.

Wish list

2010-11-21T11:15:00.006-05:00

For once my daughter had specific things on her Christmas wish list (instead of her usual request for "presents"). Well, ha, so do I! The wishin' and hopin' doesn't end once you become an adult.

Without further ado, I present my wish list:
1) The Badonkadonk tank. Is it street legal? Does it matter?
2)Off road Segway (for when the path gets too narrow for the "Donk.")
3)Uranium ore
4) In the "because I never had one" category: Lite brite

So that's it--4 things. I think that's reasonable.

Flush your mouth

2010-11-20T11:34:00.006-05:00

I'm realizing the title of this blog might be a turn off to people who don't know what it means. You see the word "poop" and your mind goes in the gutter (or the toilet). It was never supposed to be crude, but maybe it's time for a change.

I don't even know if I ever properly explained the title. The Sunday Night Poop was something plebes (at one time this was me) memorize at West Point. It is recited on Sunday nights, when you're in formation, about to face another fun packed week. I hate Sundays and have for as long as I can remember. It's not that work is so awful, it's that your time to yourself to do what you want is ending until Friday night.

Shouted out it goes like this:

Six bells and all is well.
Another week shot to hell.
Another week in my little gray cell.
Another week in which to excel.
Oh, hell.

See? I told you it wasn't crude.

I even changed the title for a moment, but it didn't look right.

It's coming

2010-11-20T07:23:00.007-05:00

Time for my annual Holiday message. It gets preachy so consider yourself warned! Mmmm, preachy.

Black Friday is coming. And I'm telling you I'm not going.

Let's take a look at last year's madness. I might get up (because the traffic outside woke me up) and toddle up to the loft to take photos of the madness and point and laugh, but I'm not participating. That's right, I live across the street from a shopping center with all the fixin's and I'm not going. Don't make me post the Dreamgirls song again to emphasize my point.

How does it even come to this? I think the Type A's of the country got together with the retailers and made a deal. Let's make a blood sport out of the day after Thanksgiving with the prize being $3 appliances. Because that's what the holiday season is really about. I love a bargain too, but I'll pass.

Brown-eyed blues

2010-11-15T21:05:00.015-05:00

It’s a known fact that we celebrate blue eyes. It makes sense. 10,000 years ago blue eyed people didn’t even exist. Because most people on this planet have brown eyes not many people are awed by them.

I read a book by a black author with a myriad of blue-eyed characters. You got to hear about steel blue eyes, royal blue eyes, navy blue eyes and so on. I am guess she had a high ratio of blue eyes because she didn’t have them and it came through in blue eye worship. Who wants to hear about root beer eyes, or chocolate eyes, or what have you? It's just not literary.

There is one song that isn’t about blue eyes. And it’s (wait for it) Brown Eyed Girl. Thanks, Van Morrison, for writing a song for the rest of us! Finally some love for the brown eyed peeps. So imagine how I felt when, my freshman year, my roommate co-opted that song and changed the words to (wait for it) “Blue eyed girl.”

Um, what now? Are you kidding me with this?

I know, I know. Lighten up. It’s not a big deal. Just words, right? But right then I wished I had said something along the lines of “No, you do not. No you don’t take a song that applies to me and change it to suit you when there are countless other songs out there that probably celebrate you more than they do me. I said no. Damn it.”

But did I say anything? Noooo. Maybe it was better to keep the peace (AKA: “the wimp’s defense”) but years later I am still kicking myself for not saying something.

Petty? Why yes, yes I am.

Disclaimer ahead: I’m not againt blue eyed people. My best friend has blue eyes!*

*so does my cat, my brother-in-law, and um...I know lots of blue eyed people, okay?

Winnebago man!

2010-11-11T12:16:00.003-05:00

Where have I been? You have to love a man who makes up his own language. Or drops F bombs with reckless abandon.
And here is an interview with him.

That tiny rehearsal...

2010-11-10T22:24:00.015-05:00

My best friend's dad fancied himself a writer. He was a stay at home dad (I won't get into the stories, they're not mine to tell) who wrote poems, one which was about "sleep,that tiny rehearsal of death." Wow, way to turn a totally relaxing and rejuvenating activity into something inescapable and permanent. His poems were dark, with mysterious things cloaked in darky darkness. To this day we joke about saying good night to each other and then "Okay, I'm gonna go rehearse for death now!" We like our humor black, no sugar, no cream.

So imagine how I felt when I had a dream that I DIED. Rehearsal indeed! It went like this: I was very sick (I don't know if it was a "long illness" or a "short illness" but apparently it was a fatal illness). I lived in a brownstone in what I assume is New York (I went out on an urban note, I guess). One moment I was sick and dying my little heart out in the bed and the next, roaming that apartment as a ghost. Some people saw me. Some communicated with me. This went on for a few days* until I started to get bored. What fun is the world if you aren't really relevant anymore? I saw a car accident outside of the window, heard lots of city noises (sirens, shouting, and whatnot) and decided I had enough and I was ready to leave the earth. Thinking about what comes next terrifies me in real life, but in the dream it was not a big deal. Just "Eh, I'm tired of this. Buh-bye." I was at peace and accepting of what was happening, and at the time it felt real.

And then I woke up.

*Not really, but you know time works a little differently in dreams--didn't you see Inception?

The truth!

2010-11-03T22:19:00.019-04:00

Nothing tells the truth like the mirrored wall at the step class* I went to tonight. Good grief! Embarrassing. That and the fact that I am rhythmically challenged, especially when the instructor decides to throw in grapevines and twists and so on. Let's not start on the left-right stepping and how no matter what I always seem to wind up going in the exact opposite direction of everyone else. As long as I'm moving it's okay, right? Right?

There was one bigger girl that came into class. She had on chuck taylors, which I loved. Then I looked in the mirror and realized she wasn't that much bigger than me. I think I suffer from body dysmorphia--but the kind where the sufferer thinks she is smaller than she actually is. Which explains the thoughts: "Oh, but I thought these were size 8 jeans? But, hm, they don't fit. The manufacturer must have made a mistake. And everything in my closet is shrinking too. Stupid dry cleaners."

But the mirror tells the truth. I need to stop assessing others (AKA "being an asshole") and concentrate on my own step.. I also need to re-think the mid leg sweats because it's not a good look when you have well endowed calves. Also, when my lower legs are exposed it might be a good idea to shave and lotion up because, well...ashy and hairy wasn't quite the look I was going for.

What! It was after work! I was in a rush. I'm sure no one was looking that closely anyway. Except the mirror.

*Yes step aerobics classes still exist, I didn't have to go back to 1992 to find it. If I did go back to 1992, I wouldn't be talking about the giant mirrored wall because I would have been a lot more...wait, I mean a lot "less" back then.

It could only happen to me

2010-10-24T12:18:00.008-04:00

Some people get notified that they won the lottery. Some are contacted to recieve an inheritance from someone who died in a plane crash and left no relatives. Some are tasked by a dying widow to donate her nest egg to charity. Some are asked to help deposed Nigerian royalty in exchange for a hefty cash reward. Me? I get this:

Hello.

how are you doing today? i m Pastor Joe from the state Unfortunately I am moving out of the country and cannot take my beautiful(and expensive) male and female Africa Gray parrot with me.they are also a trained Africa Gray parrot. they can really talk well and call people by their Name,Africa Gray parrot they are 100% healthy It breaks my heart, but i must give them away. ONLY TO A GOOD HOME I've already started tarn them perfect Africa Gray parrot-friendly, loving and an overall joy.

Please help me find a good home for them. Thanks,

You are Bless.
Pastor Joe

Parrot spam! Honestly!

Love in black and white

2010-10-21T21:31:00.004-04:00

The last two times at Target I spotted them, there, on the racks outside of the checkout aisle, where tempting things are purposely placed: Black and white striped tights.

The packaging indicates that these aren't just any tights--they're Halloween tights, which means get 'em while they're hot! Little does anyone know (okay, some people know) that black and white tights used to be my uniform. I had capri leggings. I had footless tights. And then there were my favorites: the footed tights. My tights/leggings trifecta all had black and white stripes. When I saw these new incarnations, I was looking for a reason...a reason to buy them. And wear them. In public.

They're $5. I could escort my daughter for Halloween and go as...hmmm...errr...

I thought for a moment. Well, I have those Doc Martens I found at DSW for $20 (80% off people!). Uh, I have the Cure t-shirt from their last concert. Um. I could wear my jean capris over the tights and roll them up...throw on a flannel shirt and...

You see where this is going, don't you? I'm trying to sell this costume as a "time traveling teen from the '90's" when it's really just a thinly disguised excuse for me to wear those clothes ONE MORE TIME. It's not okay. It's not reasonable. The tights were cute in high school but I don't have those 14-17 year old legs anymore, and horizontal stripes just don't look good on my girthier grown woman legs. This train of thought is what gets people targeted for "What not to wear."

I still might.

Coming soon (but not yet)

2010-10-20T21:29:00.005-04:00

I started another blog specifically about writing (ooo, writing about writing, fascinating) but when I came up with a few entries, it sounded too negative. Basically I sounded like a bitter old hag.

I don't want to start on a bad note. This blog is different because there isn't the pressure of writing. I can post something and move on without too much revising and editing and if it's boring, I can post something else another day and move on. You see? I repeated "move on" in the same sentence--I'm going to leave it there as proof of how unwriterly (or un-edited-ly) this blog is.

I think it's the pressure. If you plan to make any kind of money off of writing, you have to do a lot of build up. You have to promote yourself. Join Facebook and join twitter (notice how Myspace has pretty much vanished from the picture? R.I.P. Myspace, your busy and sometimes noisy pages won't be missed). Ahem. Anyway. You should also have a website, blog regularly and often and oh, yeah, BE LIKABLE so people, you know, want to read what you have to say. The bitter old hag bit only works for Maxine.

Helpful IT tips

2010-10-15T23:38:00.007-04:00

Once in awhile at work, the IT department will send out what it thinks are helpful tips. Today's tip highlighted the difference between "Reply" and "Reply All."

Oh fer feck's sake. I'm going to channel Samuel L. Jackson's character from a Time to Kill and say people who don't know the difference deserve to ~~die~~ learn and I hope they ~~rot in hell~~ figure it out before they even think of sending out another email.

There was a one page attachment that explained that "Reply" sends a response to the sender, and "Reply All" sends a response to everyone who got the message AND the sender. It went on to explain distribution lists and choosing wisely when you select "Reply All." I would say everyone should know this already, but then again, if this is being sent out as a "helpful IT tip," I might be wrong.

It's happened before.

7 things you don't know about me (and probably didn't need or want to know, or you didn't care and so on)

2010-10-15T23:03:00.010-04:00

I am tagging myself because the blogger that posted this admitted that she will not tag people. Plus I am in a bit of a blog slump, so, shamelessly, I go forth.

1) You know how Meatloaf says he would do anything for love "But I won't do that"?
My that is this: watch Transformers 2. I tried and failed, and was thankful I stopped wasting those minutes of my life the moment I rose from the sofa.
My husband's that is this: Go to a Morrissey concert

2) Morrissey: Love him, even though he is the arch rival of my other love, Robert Smith of the Cure.

3) Am kind of Martha Stewart-ish on some things. Towels have to be folded a certain way before going into the linen closet. Clothes in the basket the floor on my side of the room? Ehhh, I'll get to it. But first, the towels.

4) I like reading memoirs. I didn't realize this until pretty recently. Some people are interesting. Some people just seem interesting. Then you read the memoir and find yourself disappointed.

5) I always believe the odds are against me, but the up side is: when things work out, I am pleasantly surprised.

6) I am a walking collection of nervous habits.

7) I check PostSecret on Sunday mornings to see the fresh new crop of Secrets.

"...I can feel it"

2010-10-13T23:05:00.003-04:00

I know it's random. I watched this clip the other day and the lyrics to "Daisy Bell" are in my head.

Also, I love the line: "I honestly think you ought to sit down calmly, take a stress pill, and think things over."

Disconnect

2010-09-29T21:34:00.016-04:00

While I was at West Point, cadets were isolated from the world. We depended on the New York Times for news. I didn’t know about Christopher Reeves’s accident, or Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie, or O.J’s wild ride until weeks or months later.

It’s so different now. Cadets have internet, and cell phones (!) and Facebook (I’m glad it wasn’t around back then). We were at the beginning of that when I was a cadet. My first email account was through West Point, and even then I wasn’t completely sure how to get anything sent to me from anyone outside of our school network. You could talk to the outside world through MUDs. It was a little tricky, but you could navigate through a few different menus, establish a username and password, and boom, you were in. I figured this out and had conversations with people. During my second summer, I became friends with some guy all the way in Manchester, England. It was a way to talk to people you would never run across in a normal day. Depending on the hour you logged in, you would find different people in different time zones all over the world.

And sometimes you found people that were behind the same walls, doing the same exact thing you were.

Once I asked a guy where he was, and he replied: “I go to a little school north of the Hudson.”

Oh, ha-ha, I thought. This guy thinks he’s clever.

“Oh really?” I typed, “I’m in New York too.”

I strung him along until we got into specifics.

“Where do you go to college?” He wrote.

Heh. I thought. Heh-heh.

I typed: “A little school north of the Hudson.”

He could do one of two things with this bit of information: laugh it off or take his ball and go home.

“Fuck you.” came the reply.

A message telling me I had been blocked followed right after that.

When you were hiding behind a computer screen and a keyboard, you could be mean without anyone calling you on it. Log off and poof, you’re back in the real world where no one could connect you to the things you typed. I gave this guy his comeuppance because (in my mind) he clearly believed he was impressing some civilian chick, not someone living in the same setting, wearing the same uniform, and doing the same things he was (and therefore not impressed). I thought this guy deserved to be played, but I also can’t blame him for being pissed.

Another time I ran into a cadet online, it wasn’t so hostile. We got along. We joked. He didn’t seem cocky about his status, or dismayed that I was another cadet. In fact, he was glad. This meant we didn’t have to explain every dumb detail of our lives to each other, we could move past that. He was a year behind me, in the pipes and drums club. They wear kilts—with dress gray tops! Bagpipes! Tartan! Knee high socks! What’s not to love?

It wasn’t anything like the conversation with the other guy but I guarded my identity. I told him what class year I was in and left it at that. I was one in a hundred that way. If I gave him my company, he could easily narrow it down to one of three people. He could find my room, knock on the door and figure me out with just a few questions. And then we would have to talk! In person! Oh no!

When pressed by someone who wanted to know me better, I chose to stay disconnected. Maybe I wouldn’t look like the person he pictured on the other end of the Ethernet cable (because there was just one black guy in that club and this wasn't that guy). Maybe I wouldn’t have anything to say. I wanted to reveal myself, but I was afraid of being rejected. I know. Lame.

I made a lot of friends at West Point, but I’m sorry I didn’t make room for one more.

More thoughts

2010-09-29T21:28:00.007-04:00

1) I watched Ricochet with my husband on HBO. It starred Denzel Washington, John Lithgow, Kevin Pollak and Ice T. Kevin Pollak had a dying scene where he was shot about seven times, yet managed to share some key plot points in his last words. We also got to see Denzel in a pink fluffy robe. Denzel in red lipstick. Denzel getting the news that he has the clap. Denzel’s sex scandal tape that led to him catching the clap. Denzel taking big bites of scenery playing the man on the edge. Lithgow was the bad guy (but this villain can’t top the Dad from Footloose). As if we couldn’t figure out he was the bad guy, he had a cataract. Because, you know, cloudy eye=Eeeee-VIL! It was hilarious, and if you’ve never heard of it, there's a reason.

2) Anyone who claims we’re a paperless society has not participated in burn bag day. Picture lines of people with carts filled with brown paper bags that are filled with paper in line to load them into a box truck. If the truck gets filled up before your turn, better luck next week, pal. If it sounds tedious, you’d be right.

3) My daughter accidentally split my lip. I was leaning over her, telling her to get up and use the bathroom. In normal full speed ahead little kid form, she sat straight up and I didn’t get out of the way quickly enough. She bonked her hard head on my chin and my tooth went through my lip. I look like the victim of a collagen injection gone wrong.

Important conversation

2010-09-15T19:55:00.004-04:00

I found my daughter watching Access Hollywood (the horrah!") and I turned it off. She saw some footage of actresses from an award show and informed me:
"Mommy, all of them look pretty."
"Yes, but is it important to be pretty?"
"No, it's important to be yourself.
*Me, thinking: Wow, good answer*
And then:
"Mommy, what does important mean?"

Perfect 10

2010-09-02T20:53:00.008-04:00

I just packed up a dress I bought from a company that makes clothes where sometimes I'm an 8 and other times I'm a 10. Don't you hate this? Of course I ordered it online and of course I ordered an 8 when I would have been better off with a 10. It fits if I suck it in (because I have made a full--and I mean full--recovery from the food poisoning), but it's still snug at the hips, and the hip bones just can't be sucked in. Returning stuff is a pain, but I decided to get the 10 and send back the 8. Better to have something that fits and can be worn without constantly contorting myself than something that sits in the closet taunting me. (and no, I don't want to hear about that ~~sausage casing~~ shaper thingy known as Ardyss)

Oh, 90210

2010-09-02T20:43:00.008-04:00

I have learned that today is "90210" day (the zip code that lives in infamy, thanks to the late Aaron Spelling). I'm not going to say I watched this dreck, or that it may or may not have been my guilty pleasure. The first season was awesome because the twins just moved to California and hey, so did I! Never mind that they were in Beverly Hills and I was in Half Moon Bay, or that it was a TV show and not real life (or anything remotely close to my suck-ass 8th grade life), but to my deluded mind it was close enough.

Miss me?

2010-08-23T19:20:00.003-04:00

No? Okay.

Some things:

1) Nothing flattens the stomach like a bout of food poisoning (which likes to hit a) on vacation and b) right around 2 a.m.). I don't want to get into details (and you probably don't want me to), but it pains me that the culprit was probably ice cream. Given that we are in the midst of Bad-Egg-apalooza 2010, I blame the hens. The irony was that my throat killed (we'll leave it at that) and what soothes the throat? Something cool and creamy? Right.

2) This summer kind of sucks for movies. Maybe that's good since it costs $10.50 a ticket (add $7 more for motion-sickness inducing 3D).

3) I went to the gym on Friday after a ~~long bout of laziness~~ hiatus. I felt annoyed when I was pulling out of the parking lot and one woman was clearly struggling to squeeze her behemoth vehicle into a spot--there were a bunch of open spaces far from the gym, but who wants to park and do all that walking when you're about to work out?

I write like...a gimmick

2010-07-16T21:50:00.009-04:00

According to this website I write like:
David Foster Wallace
Margaret Atwood
Stephen King
Kurt Vonnegut

All I did was sample from different entries in this very blog.
Inconceivable!

(After you receive your results, there's also a little step-right-up sales pitch about how you--yes you--can be published and a hyperlink that says "Learn how to secure a book publishing contract!" That's the way to butter 'em up and sucker 'em in! I also find it especially funny that nary a hack writer is in the rotation of authors us common folk write like. I know, I know, Stephen King isn't exactly a literary great but I still think he's good.)

Opportunity knocks

2010-07-07T22:07:00.010-04:00

A few weeks ago, I received this:

We are unique Executive Search firm that was established in 1977 and is owned and operated by Service Academy Graduates. One of our Chemical / Mining clients is looking for a JMO(Junior Military Officer) or former JMO Woman to be their Human Resource Manager in a small Wyoming town (pop. 11,000). No experience is required. They will train. Must be STRONG LEADER with excellent OERs (Officer Evaluation Report, AKA a report card, annual review, and so on). This is a non-union company. Base pay range to $110K.

Our client is phone interviewing candidates next week and we are looking for candidates.

Please feel free to forward this email to anyone you know that may have an interest.

My initial thought was, “Hey, if I were single, I would totally (totes?) consider it.” Could you imagine? $110K in Wyoming? Sweeping plains and big sky (Okay, I know that’s Montana, but close enough). Cowboy boots and a simple life! Mountain views and a farm house planted on acres of land! Pioneer living with modern conveniences! Adventure!

I know, I know, I’m an idiot.

Let’s read that message again, shallll we?

We are unique Executive Search firm that was established in 1977 and is owned and operated by Service Academy Graduates. One of our Chemical / Mining clients is looking for a JMO or former JMO Woman …

(Why a woman? Either a quota is at play or there are issues with female employees? It’s suspect)

…to be their Human Resource Manager in a small Wyoming town (pop. 11,000)

(Yay, no people, but I’m guessing there is probably no Target as well).

No experience is required. They will train.

(Also suspect. They really couldn’t find anyone already trained and qualified in this area? Or is this the field of Dreams, “If you train them, they will come” philosophy?)

Must be STRONG LEADER …

Translation: We need someone who gets shit done...

…with excellent OERs.

Translation: ...who won't piss off her superiors while getting that shit done.

This is a non-union company

Translation: Fend for yourselves, bitches. Don’t cry for me ~~Argentina~~ Wyoming when the hours are ridiculous.

Base pay range to $110K

Translation: We will pay you an assload of money because if you haven’t figured it out by now, this job is a giant pain in the ass. CHA-CHING!

Our client is phone interviewing candidates next week and we are looking for candidates.

Translation: We can not fill this job, and believe you me, we’ve been trying.

Please feel free to forward this email to anyone you know that may have an interest.

Translation: Pass this on to any and everyone in your contact list.

Maybe I just need a vacation.

happenings of late

2010-07-07T22:04:00.009-04:00

I have been taking the train to work here and there. Most days I am lucky enough to have curbside service, courtesy of my husband, but when he’s off or our hours or locations don’t line up, I take the train.

One week I ventured onto the commuter train service. Unlike metro, there is free parking and you can buy a ticket at a discount for a week, or a month. I tried that for a week. It was comfortable enough. Because the trains come at scheduled times, the riders know each other, and they also know the crews operating the trains. In some ways the experience more genteel than metro and other times you can just say, “People are the same all over.” You get to see a different side of the land when you take a commuter train because it’s not always parallel to the streets. You go through the woods, and through the centers of towns and cities, or you see the back sides of buildings with dumpsters and graffiti. It was a longer commute this way, because not only did I take the commuter train, but I still had to connect to metro to make it all the way to work, and that involved two different lines and a 10 minute walk to the office. And then, at the end of the day, I had to do this in reverse. When I got home, I was exhausted, and by the end of the week I just wanted to go home and crawl into bed.

This week I took metro. The fares have been hiked again, and somehow I still don’t think that will solve the whole money shortage issue. There are still confusing things happening. Once I waited for the long leg of my trip, which I take to the end of the line. You would think at least half of the trains would take the passengers all the way to the end of the line, and out of those, the number of cars would be greatest, to carry the most people the furthest but while I waited, the sign displayed five trains, four of which stopped before the end of the line and two of those had eight cars, the largest number allowed. The one train out of those five scheduled to go all the way to the end of the line, of course that was a six car train. Heeey, are you following this? Come on, it's interesting. Now, then, if a train leaves union station traveling north at 45 miles per hour...
Oh, I kid, I kid.

Yesterday on metro I spotted someone reading a book titled “THONG ON FIRE.” I couldn’t believe my eyes, so of course I looked it up, and Amazon doesn’t lie. There really is a book out there titled “THONG ON FIRE,” categorized as “urban erotica.” If there is a less subtle book title out there, I have not found it. It sounds like it involves STDs. I guess you could read this while listening to “Ghetto soul.” Yes, this is another genre I didn’t know existed until very recently.

Back at work, I discovered “they” installed green toilet flush handles. Flush up for “liquid” waste, flush down for “solid.” Did these get installed so people can feel better about themselves? I won’t go into detail (yes, I realize the Blog title involves the word "poop," however it's a poop of a different kind) but it appears that both the “up” flush and “down” flush use the same pressure and amount of water. It would seem easier to install flush instruction signs and green handles (yes, they’re actually green in color and from the label, apparently made of “germ resistant material” to discourage foot flushing) than it is to install something that does what it claims.

I received my first full paycheck last week. My “desired” start date was mid June, but at the same time, I would have been breaking my daughter’s piggy bank by then. I also wanted time off to think, but when I was home, I felt awful. I wasn’t doing all of the projects I had planned to accomplish and I was staying inside and wallowing. I lament that I don’t have enough time, but when I did have time, I didn’t do very much (maybe I lamented that I didn’t have money?)

The new job is okay. The people are nice and my boss has told me that she’s going easy on me until I feel comfortable with what I’m doing. It’s a change from other jobs and I appreciate that. I also went to meet up with my old boss (after a mandatory class that I took four years ago, the first time I worked here. The class was taught by what looked like a Britney Spears knock off in low rise jeans—hello, 2004 called). We sat and talked for an hour. He left our old company not long after I checked out last fall. He was the buffer between his team members and our boss and after awhile he checked out and the whole thing fell apart. I don’t begrudge anyone (much) for how it happened. I made some friends and we got to do some fun things at work. I have stayed in touch with a few people and from what I’ve heard it sounds like what’s left of the whole operation isn’t much anyway.

I watched “The Invention of Lying” (finally). I love Ricky Gervaise and this was because I loved his character in “The Office.” I wanted to see this movie and for a number of reasons it took forever to finally arrive through Netflix. When we finally sat down to watch it—in the description of my best friend: Disappointion. I think it had a good premise but after awhile it got tedious. It was funny at times but it also didn’t quite work.

Today I received an email telling me that Wal Mart is actively recruiting women to be store managers and I could reply with my resume if I was interested. No, really:

Walmart is looking to recruit, hire and retain women veterans for retail management positions. This partnership embodies the commitment of Walmart to support women veterans, their families and military spouses. It also highlights our vision to create successful workplaces for women, families and employers and Walmart as an employer of choice for women and veterans.
Walmart invites you to apply for these select positions (see attachments) with Walmart or to share this invitation with an interested colleague. This hiring initiative targets women veterans who possess leadership skills and qualities that would make them excellent candidates for senior retail management. Prior retail experience is not required. We are looking to identify 15-20 candidates to interview for these select positions.

Welcome to Wal Mart, eh? I guess they never read my blog.

Yeah, no

2010-06-15T21:01:00.014-04:00

I know there have been a bunch of complaints regarding Facebook and its security issues. People are complaining that nothing is private and the Facebook is invasive. It's sort of obvious that it is, though isn't it? They are running a business. You can advertise better to your clientele if you raid their personal info a bit and customize the ads. I'm sorry I wasn't savvy or quick enough to come up with such a ~~scam~~ business.

I'm not ready to break up with it yet, but I've removed a lot of stuff that I like or am a fan of because it just felt like too much information for not much pay off. People that know me personally will probably know what I like.

The latest thing I've seen is "People who like ___ usually like ____." This is another version of "everybody's doing it" style of peer pressure. It used to be (product) and "4 friends like this," but I guess that wasn't an effective enough hook. If you were just friends on Facebook only with those people, then why would you be inclined to like what they like?
Let me illustrate my point:

This here suggestion was made on my page (I guess I got lazy and didn't "un" like Target). Fine. I *like* (insert thumbs up icon here) Target. But I am not a fan of Wal Mart, and I will not click the suggestive thumbs up icon to appease them. I will also say that most people that I know who like Target are quick to follow up and add that they HATE Wal Mart. I live across the street from a Big Box shopping mecca. Yeah, I know, nice view, but jeez has this catered to my lazy side. If I need something, I just cross the street, and la-ti-da. The down side is that Target is right there, just across the street, taunting me on pay day. Come onnnn, G, ya know you need some new flip flops! Come on over, we're having a sale on raspberry lemonade this week. Hey, don't you need something new for your work wardrobe? I got what you need, baby! The house is as close to Wal Mart as it is to Target. Guess when I step into Wal Mart? When a) Target is closed, b) Target is ~~closed~~ not open yet or c) Target does not have what I'm looking for and I'm desperate.

Life is too short for bad books

2010-06-05T11:34:00.004-04:00

The last post probably made little sense, since I didn't include the link to the literary "agent"'s website to further illustrate my points. I appreciate when people do things and think they're trying to help. The friend has followed up with my husband to see if I called the guy. How do you say "Look, I don't feel comfortable with some proud (and I have a feeling it's to the point of being obnoxious about it) confederate representing me." Or, "I don't feel comfortable with a person who lists multiple advanced degrees with vague proof of said degrees turning around and not using spell check or knowing that "pundent" is not a word." "I don't feel comfortable working with someone who has photos of sushi on his home page?" (okay, that one's a stretch) The alternative is saying nothing, but there is this need for me to share how incredulous I am that someone pushed this guy as a serious agent. It just blows me away. I want to say "This is a joke, right? You didn't really mean this guy, did you? This guy? No, no, really?" (in my best Simon Cowell voice) "You caaaan't be serious."

So I'm petty but I had to share the link. I am the type of person who has to verify with the world that she is not the one on crazy pills.

I know the ills of the publishing industry. I understand why people self-publish. I don't like that anyone and everyone can pass something off as literature (or claim to be literary agents) when there is no filtering process involved. If it looks like a book and feels like a book, and you can find it on Amazon, that's good enough. The problem is that I'm not trying to publish a "good enough" book.

It's never that easy

2010-05-31T21:29:00.003-04:00

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I am working on a book. I feel like every other person is doing the same thing or they feel they have at least one good story waiting to be told, so I am not too vocal about it.

After years and years, I'm almost done. My husband has been gently shoving me towards the next move: finding an agent. This is the tricky part. Find someone who thinks your story is as good as you say it is. Find someone willing to slog through the pre-edited mess and see the potential, but in order to find that person, you have to advertise what you're selling with a teaser--a query letter. This will inevitably bring countless rejections, and I will inevitably have to tell myself exactly what I've been saying to myself throughout my job search: It only takes one. Then those interested will request a manuscript and those who like that enough to peddle it to the publishers will do the hustling on my behalf. This doesn't faze some people, but for some reason I find it very daunting.

In the back of my mind I hear that what I have isn't good, people won't pay to read it, the voices of the characters are totally off. I know I need to ignore that and press on. I've read so many so-called best selling books that aren't all that great, but they had a great marketing machine, and somehow people were convinced that these stories were better than they actually were. While I still want to write a good book, I know that I need effective marketing.

My husband talked to a friend who is also working on a book. A few years ago I connected with another writer who was writing a story on West Point. He emailed a bunch of graduates to get them to read what he already had and make corrections. I'm not lying when I tell you that it stunk. It was awful, and yet I admired the guy for trying and for believing that he had something worth publishing. I helped him with many things so I figured when he got somewhere, he would put in a good word for me. He claimed to know an author and then as soon as I asked for the guy's contact information, I got the back pedal. "Oh no, you don't want to talk to that guy." I wrote a scathing email message in response and promptly added him to my block list.

The most recent offer to connect was through a friend of my husband's, who apparently has his own book in the works. "He's going to send his agent's contact info," my husband said, which elicited a shrug from me. My instincts told me something was off.

Today I received a link to the agent's website. In my mind, I was thinking "Oh, it's probably some hack." I was hoping something would prove me wrong, but no, I was right, it really was some hack. In addition to being a veteran, the guy has a string of advanced degrees listed after his name, which might as well have been red flags. In addition to that, he's got information about himself, probably in an effort to seem "real, but when you write:

Remember - I don't take life too seriously, soooo don't expect this over-educated academic pundent to continously prove his literary skills, because I've been there and done that and I just won't anymore.

I mean is it considered arrogant to write "pundit" instead of that non-existent word listed? I'm also going to admit that the confederate pride and the wearing of a cap with a confederate flag on it didn't win points. I get it. Some people are proud of that, but is your professional website really the appropriate venue to show your rebel pride? If I wasn't turned off before (I was), this was the thing to push me over.

So this just confirms that I probably need to take the hard road, hustle and hope that someone out there believes what I have is good enough to sell.

And then--

2010-05-26T21:56:00.002-04:00

After you find the song, you OD on listening to it.

"Who buys CD's?" (AKA iTunes doesn't have everything)

2010-05-25T21:51:00.006-04:00

The title of this entry is a question posed by my husband. I understand what he's getting at (he also thinks books and DVDs that can be converted to something stores on a hard drive or streamed from a server, will eventually become obsolete)

My reasoning behind purchasing a CD is this: because iTunes doesn't have everything.

As much as I scoff at Hummers, I love the song used in this commercial. It really stuck with me to the point that I felt compelled to hunt it down to the ends of the earth. It turns out it's a song from some obscure scandinavian techno compilation. I could not find this song for anything. It turns out that it just required some patience. I did find the CD online but the website was foreign and the price was in Euros (possibly. I just know it wasn't a dollar sign). I considered illegal downloads, not because I'm cheap but because I could NOT find it anywhere. I would go to YouTube and play the commercial. I'd hum it to myself. My husband suggested I recreate it in Garage Band (and maybe if I didn't have a life that would be fun, but I don't have the time or patience)

Well, friends, today my CD arrived. Yes, Amazon came through and I'm one of those people still buying CDs. In fact, it's used but in "like new" condition. I had a high school history teacher whose 8 track collection was his pride and joy and I fully realize that I might be turning into that guy.

I played it on my laptop for my husband and said "Remember this?" He listened for a moment, admitted he liked the beat but did not remember the song. Ah! Don't you remember? I tried finding it forever! "iTunes?" he said. This is always the answer from him, and my response is always "iTunes does not have everything!"

This is the same guy who was haunted by this song and I'm happy to admit that I did a little sleuthing on late '90's Euro techno and I delivered, but to his credit it wasn't all that hard. I found it on iTunes.

Thoughts (deep and not)

2010-05-20T11:44:00.007-04:00

I signed my offer letter and returned it yesterday. Oddly enough, I did this using the fax machine provided by the job search assistance people, which was a service paid for by my last company. I guess that's something. Of course now that I have an end to my free time, it feels like the walls are closing in. I don't hate working, especially if it means I am getting paid. I just hate starting at a new place, even if I know some of the people there. I hate new situations and feeling like I have to learn everything all over again. I've done it so many times you'd think being new would be old to me, but I just can't get used to it. I think once I am settled into my routine, it will be better.

Just before I accepted the offer, someone from another company spoke with me. He basically asked that I speak to him before I accept the offer. We had a great conversation over the phone. It turns out he works very closely with the people I will be working with. He laughed and said "Hm, I've never done an interview quite like this." He pretty much acknowledged that I would be accepting my offer. Could you imagine if I listened to the whole pitch and got an offer with this guy? I would be stepping into an office and sitting around the corner from the people I rejected. How bad would that be? He threw in "If things change and you're looking again, please consider us..." which is great. It's always a compliment when someone asks you to contact them if you need a job. It's a lifeline.

Yesterday I had to pick up some packages from the post office. Evidently, the postal person could not deliver them to the house. Never mind that I have been here for most of the day for the past month. I don't think the guy wanted to walk down to the house and ring the doorbell. i don't believe he even tried. I can't prove it, of course. So I went to get my packages from the post office. I had two messages from Amazon telling me to go, which meant there were two packages.

I walked up to the counter, and because I didn't have the slip, I just turned over my driver's license. The post-lady returned with one box and I said "Oh, I have two, actually." Why did she try to tell me this was the only one she saw (No, what happened was, she stopped when she found one box with my name because she didn't think there were more.) I said "Well, I got two messages..." (unsaid: and I'll be damned if I have to come back in a separate trip because you only found one)

"Give me that again," she said before disappearing to the back. What do you know, she found the other box. From her annoyed look, it appears she is well on her way to a lifelong career of postal disgruntled-ness.

I know that's a stereotype. I have found some happy postal people, but some are really miserable. It seems as if there is no in between. Either they are jovial or cranky. I don't get it.

In one of the boxes was a toy accordion for my daughter. She loves music and I want to expose her to some instruments. Even if she's not inclined to play anything, at least it's there and it can be fun. I know, it's a toy accordion and I'm probably going to regret buying that, but at least it's not a drum set. I tried my hand at it yesterday, and it seemed like fun.

So as my time comes to a close, I have all sorts of thoughts on ways to not be dependent on "the man" for pay. I could live off of the land in a yurt, farming what I need and being a vagabond in the colder months. It sounds sort of appealing, and some people have done this. Then one word comes to mind: Outhouse. Or, in my friend Mick's words, "Outhouse... If you're lucky, otherwise (four words): Hole-in-the-ground."

I like indoor plumbing. I like a lot of things that require some amount of money. I don't like roughing it. We had porta-potties at my work site in Korea (Army days) and there were many times I held it because I couldn't deal with the lack of flushing. How in the world would I do with a hole in the ground? So it's a trade off--I go to work and in return, I get toilets.

Favorite TV shows of the '80s and early '90s

2010-05-17T17:33:00.009-04:00

I recently came up with a list of shows that I enjoyed while growing up. I can even remember the theme songs to most of them.
Mr. Roger's Neighborhood (corny, I know, but I loved it, especially Trolley and the world of Make Believe)
Sesame Street (Not the Elmo show racket that's going on now. Who doesn't remember this?)
Inspector Gadget
The Real Ghostbusters (I had a crush on Peter Venkman)
He-Man (I had a crush on He-Man)
She-Ra
Galaxy High (*ahem*, bought the DVD set of this one)
Mr. Belvedere (Mashed potatoes slopped into Bob Uecker's lap in the intro=comic gold)
Benson (who can't love a show where the wise-cracking butler makes it to lieutenant governor?)
The Muppet Show (a show that I loved, which also spurred what I call "M.A.M.M.A. phobia")
Diff'rent Strokes
Perfect Strangers
The Golden Girls
The Facts of Life
Gimme a Break (I sure deserve it!)
Webster (Yes, a total "diff'rent strokes" knock off with a height challenged black kid and adoptive white parents, but we still watched it)
Amazing Stories
Wonderworks specials on PBS (Very favorite episode is "All of summer in a day)
Double Dare
Moonlighting (The Taming of the Shrew episode was classic)
Dynasty (or, as my sister and I called it, "Die nasty)
The Cosby Show
A Different World
Friday Night Videos (we didn't have cable so this was our MTV)
What's Happening
Monty Python's Flying Circus
Quantum Leap
Murphy Brown
The Wonder Years (My favorite line is probably "In your sleep, pal." threat uttered by older brother Wayne.)
Doogie Howser, M.D. (Wasn't the computer journal he kept so high tech at the time? It was like a predecessor to blogging)
Family Ties (We wanted a pushover of a dad like Michael Keaton)
Growing Pains
MacGyver (Richard Dean Anderson+sandy blond mullet+ability to weasel out of impending doom=hot)

Some of these can be watched instantly on Netflix. I attempted a Quantum Leap episode, except I didn't make it past the opening theme song. Sometimes you watch these things and realize they were better in the era that they were first viewed. Some things just don't stand the test of time. If I watched many of these shows now, the list would be a whole lot shorter.

I did a double take

2010-05-13T11:57:00.002-04:00

We were shopping for food to cook for Mother's day when I happened upon this:

I had to look at it twice, to make sure I was reading the label correctly. It's chocolate wine. Who comes up with this? It looks like Yoo Hoo for grown ups.

Now for something shallow

2010-05-12T16:21:00.003-04:00

I know, I know, shut up, shuuut uuup, already!

I bought these (yes, I know, jobless, but...)

I know they're not quite as hot as past shoe choices(full post here) but man, they are so comfortable and kind of cute, if I say so myself.

Meeting

2010-05-12T15:46:00.012-04:00

I actually had something on the schedule today (and I managed to fit it in between my blog posting-I am prolific today). It was an appointment for my job placement service. My company paid for 3 months of this service, which is really pretty generous, considering I was only with them for 6 months. The HR director wanted me to go and let her know how it went, "especially the resume class." The office isn't too far from my house, so it works out pretty well.

Today's meeting was an orientation. There was only one other person besides the instructor (facilitator? leader?). We had to fill out forms about ourselves, to include salary amount (which was noted to remain confidential). But then we're all sitting out in the open, so how in the heck is that "confidential?" (Yes, I peeked at the other person's amount, even though it has zero relevancy since she had a different job, in a different industry, in a different job market, and so on. What can I say? I'm nosy, petty, and *ahem* competitive).

We went through the slide briefing. We paused for questions. It was almost like a real business meeting, except a whole lot shorter. I got laid off and then it felt like I needed some time to decompress and process everything. Then I felt like I needed to jump into getting a job, so I worked on that. Now that I am getting interviews and possibly an offer, I might not get to use the three months I'm allotted because my time is short (so I spend it blogging, go figure).

We discussed other classes available. We discussed negotiation techniques. The other person got on my nerves a little, but i guess I just feel like I'm the type who says as little as necessary. Sometimes that's good and sometimes you come off cold, but I try to keep personal things personal. This woman was an open book. I knew she had an iPad, her husband was an apple geek, she was with two different companies for 8 years, they had moved from Pennsylvania, she's been jobhunting for 2 months and so on. I mean it went on and on, and some things were mentioned several times, as if we had missed the first pass, but it wasn't just that. Some of it seemed like bragging. As in, the instructor (Facilitator? leader?) saying, "We have a website which we'll log in to later on..." and her throwing in, "Oh, I should have brought my iPad™! I could be logging in right now!" (insert eyeroll from me)

Or, when we did log in, and she had problems, she piped in with, "Oh! Well, it's a Dell. I'm used to Apples." The instructor-facilitator-leader replied, "Really? Is that what you used at work, then?"

"Well, no, but..."

(insert eyeroll with a side of Schadenfreude from me)

"...my husband's an Apple geek and we have an iPad, iPhones, a MacBook..."

(insert twirling index finger from me)

I didn't say, "Oh yeah? Huh. So do we, but somehow I don't feel compelled to mention it every five minutes. Or at all, really. Huh." I did, however, brag that my last company provided me with a MacBook. Ha! I win. Well, not really because (as evidenced by my presence at the job placement assistance meeting) I don't work there anymore. It's not like they let me keep it as a parting gift.

I know, I know, I'm being mean. Maybe she felt comfortable. I just didn't feel like I was there to share and commiserate. I was asked about my class ring. I know it is kind of ostentatious (and the men's version is even more so). So I had to admit it was a West Point ring (and I even threw in the bit that we were the first school to start the ring tradition). The instructor-facilitator-leader just gushed on and on. "What a great school! Where did you serve?" "Korea," I said, "Oh, thank you." He replied, in a completely solemn tone. But wait, I wanted to say, the Korea where I served is a whole lot different than the one that was in place fifty years ago. We had our own rooms and cable TV. It wasn't like we were camped out on some mountain in the cold. It's embarrassing when people thank you for your service when you have only served in peacetime. It was a minor hardship in some areas but overall it was a great deal. When there is a war you're not in, you appreciate that even more. What I did then doesn't even compare to what my serving classmates and other servicemembers are dealing with now.

The service was helpful. I wish I had a little more time or I had started the process sooner, but I will try to make the most out of it.

The thing about books

2010-05-12T12:32:00.004-04:00

I love reading. I usually like a book better than the movie version because there is so much more depth and you're not limited to a two hour run time to develop characters and play out the entire plot. You can picture things the way your mind wants to, instead of having someone else's vision unfold on the screen. This being said, there are certain things about movies that I prefer. If it's a bad movie, it means I've only lost 90 minutes to three hours of my life, tops. It's still time, but not nearly as much that gets wasted when I read a book. I've started giving up on books, but I try to give them a chance. If it's marginally good, I might hold on till the end, in hopes that it will get better. I'm a tough critic, I know. Sometimes the plot picks up and it's enjoyable. Sometimes, I'm wrong and the book sucks.

I picked up Sistah Souljah's "The Coldest Winter Ever" from the library. Well there's a start--it is free so at least there's no money invested. The cover is kind of icky looking but don't judge a book, right? The first page threw me. Specifically, the line "I came busting out of my momma's big coochie on..."

I mean do I need to continue? Give up or press on? Does any real human being actually talk like that when describing her own birthday? Between this and my commentary on certain movies, maybe I'm not as open minded as I'd like to think I am.

Out of over a thousand reviews, there are none in the one and two star categories on Amazon. I have friends that liked the book. I want to give it a chance, but I don't know if I can stick it out for the three hundred plus pages I have left to read.

Duty...Honor...Country

2010-05-12T12:01:00.006-04:00

Today is the anniversary of Gen. Douglas MacArthur's farewell speech at West Point. We had to memorize parts of this speech and during Beast, we were all herded into Ike Hall to listen to it. I am embarrassed to admit that I was so exhausted from heat, stress and P.T. that as soon as the lights dimmed and I heard the words, "Duty, Honor, Country," I fell asleep.

Anyway, here's the speech.

The Truth Shall Set You Free

2010-05-12T11:21:00.005-04:00

I'm a younger sister. In fact, since there are only two of us, I am the youngest sister. Anyone with siblings will tell you there are advantages and disadvantages to being the oldest or youngest. As the youngest, I always felt like I was the lowest ranking family member--I was the one listed last on the Christmas cards, I was the youngest household member if you didn't count the pets. I was the one who had been around for the shortest amount of time. This usually means you don't make any of the rules and you're at the mercy of everyone else. This can also mean that your older sibling is the boss of you. This is a story of how I figured out how to turn that around.

We were visiting my mother's cousin in Italy. I was 9 years old and I had to pee. As luck would have it, so did my sister. We both took a trip to the bathroom. My sister pulled rank and took the toilet. My consolation prize was the bidet, which she kindly filled with water. I wasn't too keen on new things and no one really explained that it was sort of like a sink for other body parts. It was just so foreign, and I wanted nothing to do with it at all. I thought I could hold on until my sister was done, but I couldn't. Looking back, I should have just gone there, pulled the drain, rinsed the thing and been done. I don't know why I didn't. Who can explain the workings of a nine year old brain? Anyway, I peed myself.

As it was happening, I could still remember the look of "Oh, shit, she really did have to go!" on my sister's face. I know she had to have felt guilty. She very wisely wet the rest of my shorts and helped me clean up so it wouldn't be obvious to the adults what happened. I remembered going outside and resting on a chaise in the sun so my shorts could dry quickly. We were in the clear. You'd think we could then put the entire episode behind us when no one caught on, right?

Wrong. This is where things got a little twisted. Every moment after this incident, when she asked me to do something for her, and I refused, I was reminded of it and then threatened with "I'll tell!" This meant she had a servant for weeks and weeks. I was old enough to fear the mortification of my parents learning that I peed my pants at nine years old. At that age there's really no excuse. I didn't think it through far enough to realize they might actually understand if they got the whole story or that pants peeing wasn't really punishable. I just wanted to spare myself from the embarrassment.

This went on for months. "I'll tell, I'll tell" loomed over my head anytime I stepped out of line. It was awful. If only I could have that kind of problem now. I didn't know how easy I had it, but back then it seemed like a colossal dilemma. Serve the older sibling or face certain shame. It was a miserable time.

I can't tell you how long it went on, but at one point I decided to call her bluff. It wasn't because I didn't think she would tell them, it was because I got tired of the burden I carried. I got tired of the threats. "I'll tell!" I heard and I responded with, "Okay. Tell them." And you know what? That was it. There was no more bartering, no more currency to the story because it just didn't matter to me anymore. It was better for my parents to know then to have to drag this secret around in fear. And in the end, she never told.

Road Bird

2010-05-11T16:02:00.012-04:00

The year was 1985. The show was "Street Hawk." The viewers were me and my sister. This is probably why it lasted one season.

Let me explain--the star was Rex Smith. The only reason we knew about this guy was because of my mom's repeated viewings of a VHS copy of the Pirates of Penzance. I might have been a kid, but even then, I appreciated Rexy-poo's fineness.

So imagine how I felt when I saw that this was on DVD. Of all the obscure, short lived series to air in the '80s, this one gets burned to DVD for the ages?

Don't get me wrong, we were thrilled about it in 1985. It meant watching Rex in a new role that didn't involve singing, dancing, prop swords and other broadway musical-converted-to-film hokeyness. We did watch a few episodes and in my sister summarized it to be "Knight Rider. Except with a bike."

This makes Rex Smith like the Hoff, except a little less well known (but judging from his website, he's pretty derned cringeworthy).

Here's where I draw the line.

2010-05-11T15:21:00.006-04:00

There are some movies I just won't see--Transformers 2 was one of those (I didn't like the first one so why bother?) Then there are movies that are far, far into the No Zone. Movies like "The Human Centipede"--um, who greenlighted this? I am all for art and expressing yourself, but who actually paid money and said "Yeah, let's do this!" It's a horror movie, so you know that can get gory but for those who don't know, the following image gives you a pretty good idea of the plot:

Embrace the kooky side

2010-05-10T14:52:00.006-04:00

I am waiting for a phone interview for a job I may or may not take. I have all but accepted a verbal offer from another company. I am just waiting for the official letter at this point. I also filled out an application for the other company. Maybe this is just insurance--a back up plan in case things fall through. I always feel like once I get too comfortable with something, the floors going to fall out from under me. It's pretty much what happened at my last job and the one before that. The moment I feel settled into the routine is the moment things start to shift.

This phone interview is for the job that could be ending in six months. This was presented to me as if it was some kind of advantage--like knowing how long you've got to live. I think I'd rather not know so I don't spend the weeks before the date of doom wringing my hands and stressing out. The position is going to switch to federal and move to San Antonio...and from what I gathered, this means that they want to hire for these jobs in San Antonio, which is understandable. It's a lot cheaper to hire people who are already there than pay for someone and his or her family to pack up and get settled. The person conducting the interview was upbeat--"well, if you do good work, the company will try to keep you." Do you know how often I've heard this? Do you know how often I've been the employee trying to be kept? It's like flying on standby. You might get a seat, or you might have to camp out at the airport and look for another airline with a flight where you need to go.

On top of that, something is preventing me from being able to email the employment application to the company's HR representative. She sends things to me successfully, and I have emailed a few things to her successfully, but for some reason, when I attach and send my completed application, it doesn't go through. MAILER-DAEMON has already sent a couple of friendly messages telling me that the one email with the application attached didn't quite make it, even though MAILER-DAEMON's repeated valiant efforts to send it out. And before anyone asks, the attachment is well within the limits of the email service that I use.

Upon seeing that the application can't be sent, the kooky new agey type might say "Ooo, see? There's a sign! It's just not meant to be!" I'll admit, part of me is thinking this too. It makes things easier because it removes me from having to make a decision. If you can throw up your hands and claim fate is at play, then you don't have to make a choice.

I did speak to the HR person today and I asked if she received anything from me. She said no and told me to send it through the mail instead, which I did. If that one doesn't make it, then I'm really going to wonder.

Not free to a good home

2010-05-06T21:31:00.006-04:00

Last weekend we helped my mom run a garage sale. It was a new experience that I don't ever wish to repeat. You have a seller who is reluctant to give up her nice things to people who "want something for nothing" and then you have buyers who want something for almost nothing. You can probably already tell this was a formula for disaster.

I sold some things that I didn't need, to include a toaster oven for $3 and a small-ish crock pot for $1. This wasn't bargain basement, this was more like "Earth's mantle" pricing. I tried to think of it this way--at least I didn't have to waste cabinet space on these things anymore. They had already been replaced but they still worked. The common sense thing would have been to donate them but I was hanging onto them "just in case." I know that's not a good enough reason. I have a Target AND a Wal Mart directly across the street in case I need anything, and they even carry toasters and crock pots.

My mom was incredulous that I let the things go for what people asked. I didn't even attempt to haggle. I hate haggling, on both sides. It's not fun for me. We don't haggle in stores, so why do we do it at car dealerships and garage sales? It's just silly, especially when it gets down to the last 50 cents. At that point it's just pure egotistic competition.

It was interesting. It was an unusually hot day and my feet swelled up to 8 months pregnant proportions. The Amish people came through with horses and buggies, or on foot, or on their scooters that look like bicycles. Some people did drive bys, browsing from the windows of their vehicles as they slowly passed. People will look at anything you have out there, even the table with markers, plastic bags, newspaper, a calculator and a tin full of quarters. They'll look around at those things as if these are somehow not the tools you're using to help sell and wrap the items. Some people can't help themselves and they may even openly brag about how much stuff they have already as they browse and purchase. Then you wonder if you'll catch them on a Hoarders episode.

Unpaid labor

2010-05-06T14:31:00.005-04:00

On my lay off letter, it's mentioned that I was supposed to get severance through the 3rd of May. Well, I checked my account on the 3rd of May and there was nothing extra in there. It was the same low balance I've been gliding on for the past few days. I let it go. Then I had a dream that I did get my severance and it was roughly half of what it should have been. Don't you hate when this happens? It's like you don't want to worry but then the subconscious interferes and you can't help but worry. I emailed my former HR person who got back with me right away to say it will be direct deposited on Friday. Duh. Friday was when I would have been paid if I still worked there. I don't know why I expected the money to be there on Monday. It's not as if they are going to adjust their payroll timing just for me. I replied thanking her and neglecting to admit that I was being impatient and ruled by a bad dream.

The time off from work is flying by. I am getting small things done. I am working through a basket of work clothes that either need to be hand washed or mended. They have been sitting in that basket for months. I have been effectively ignoring them because I didn't have the time to bother with them and my last job didn't require "work" clothes. I could wear jeans. So I would glance at the basket and think, I'll get to it...eventually. Well eventually is now.

Things discovered while mending clothes:
-I have no idea where I put my big spool of black thread. I've improvised with navy thread.
-A Q-tip dipped in diluted bleach is the poor/cheap/lazy person's bleach pen.
-I have a lot of little buttons in little plastic bags and I should probably sort them. I'll bet half of these are extra buttons for clothes I don't own anymore.

Things discovered while applying caulk:
-If you're caulking a tub, make sure you have waterproof caulk before you snip the end of the tube (oops)
-They sell caulk that doesn't need a gun and it's my new friend
-Even if the caulk looks right when you're done, it shrinks when it dries and you get little holes.
-This stuff is nice in concept but it doesn't work

I have also been filling out employment applications. I filed for unemployment too. Because I worked in Virginia, I had to file on Virginia's website. I'm sorry to admit that their site looked a lot better than Maryland's site.

Creepiest movie poster ever?

2010-05-05T21:34:00.003-04:00

I'm talking about this. I remember seeing a few commercials on this before it ran in the theaters. It had a voice cast full of famous people (Freddie Prinze, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Anne Bancroft, Chris Kattan, Val Kilmer, Malcolm McDowell, Louis Gossett, Michael Clarke Duncan, Eric Idle, Kelly Ripa, Burt Reynolds). It was a CGI film someone put together with a *message*. like the Birdemic guy, he got it done and got it to the theaters. It was also a complete flop.

Today I noticed it was available on Netflix Instant watch so I attempted to sit through it. Well, I didn't last long. It was basically unwatchable. It was sad because the animation wasn't so great but obviously someone tried to do something with it. The plot was based on the same old Romeo/Juliet theme of lovers from warring groups and the characters just looked funky (go on and look at that movie poster again if you doubt me).

Shock and Terror

2010-05-05T16:50:00.006-04:00

I saw a feature on this over the weekend. While I have described my enjoyment of bad movies before, I think this one would test my limits. The writer/director/producer was featured and it appeared that he really, truly felt that he had something worth stretching into a full length feature. He got it done on a $10,000 budget too. I have to admit that I admire him for believing in himself and finishing his "vision." Aside from that, I'm not sure what else to say (because if you can't say anything nice, well, you know the rest).

Guess who?

2010-05-03T21:48:00.004-04:00

Anyone? Anyone?

Give up?

Hello 2010?

2010-05-02T21:08:00.003-04:00

Where are you going? Why is it May already? I feel like I'm just getting to know you and you're already headed for the door.

I have 2 interviews this week. One is a real interview and the other is not an interview, but lunch with a former manager. The former manager called me on Friday. I said my week was free and what day did he choose to meet up? Tuesday. The one day that actually was scheduled for an interview. Oops. I had to weasel out of that one. "Well, actually, can we do Wednesday? That would work better for me."

The Tuesday interview is for the position at the agency relocating to San Antonio. I actually had another interview set up for a different company in the same agency. The woman who called me was up front that the job was only good for about six months. I pretended to be excited about it, promised I could do everything in the description of duties and then when I said I would not be available until next (this) week, she scheduled a phone interview. I knew from the toll free number and access code that this would be a teleconference. Teleconferences are unbearable enough, but a phone interview teleconference? I was supposed to talk to three guys and before that, study up on an army regulation she named. She also flat out asked my salary requirements and in her words I was "pushing it out of the ballpark." So in other words, I was supposed to study up for a six month gig (I don't know about you, but this is usually how long it takes for me to even get up to speed at a new job), be prepared to brief generals, impress these three guys over the phone but I was asking for too much money. Needless to say, I canceled that interview.

I know I should look into every opportunity, but I also think gut feeling should weigh in. The guy at the same agency at least mentioned that there would be the option to convert to the federal position and move to Texas. He was okay with waiting until next (this) week for me to do an interview in person. I had a better feeling about this.

Then on Wednesday is my non-interview. I honestly don't know what to expect. He did throw out a potential start date and I mentioned right away that I had time off planned the following week. If you listened in on the conversation, you'd think I was in for sure. I'm hoping it's not too awful. I am pretty much eating crow going back to this manager and this group, but I think that happens pretty often in defense contracting.

I'm not working and all I'm writing about is work. Boo!

Cat calls and dog poop

2010-04-29T20:18:00.004-04:00

Today I experienced a new first: while out walking the dog a car drove by and someone shouted out, "Hey Sexy!"

It was early evening. I was the only one walking around in the area. I have little doubt that this was meant for anyone but me (not being conceited unless these people saw an imaginary person or they have a thing for stocky Corgis). This is where it gets funny--I was bent over and rising from picking up dog poop. Oh yeah, baby, that's hot right there. Steaming pile o' poo hot.

What I was doing was obvious (I thought). The dog was there, I had the tell tale knotted little baggies weighted with their doggie doo-doo contents. I wasn't even bent so all they saw was rump, which would have eclipsed my activities. I was facing them (sort of). And when it happened, I carried on as if I hadn't heard a thing (first rule is to not make eye contact or reward the crazy with any kind of acknowledgement).

Welcome to my life.

Tangled web

2010-04-28T21:06:00.007-04:00

In my work experience, I have worked for two separate companies twice, meaning I was rehired, by two companies, twice. Now I'm attempting to go for three. I'm not doing this in an attempt to have multiple 401K plans across the corporate world, the lesson here is to not burn bridges. As tempting as it is to leave a place in a blaze of glory, the satisfaction from that is generally short-lived. At the time you think, Oh hell to tha naw, I am not working for those emmer effers ever again. The truth is, you never know, you just might.

I am working through my connections. We'll see how it goes. Oddly enough, my husband now works for this company as well, so we'd be keeping it in the family. The other two interviews I have lined up are contracting positions within the same organization (two different companies). The catch is that this organization will be relocating to San Antonio within a year, which means that the jobs in this area go poof. My guess is, the people who held these jobs probably jumped ship not long after the move became official. I've seen it before, when on of the places I worked was being shifted to Hunstville, Alabama. There were a couple of guys who were okay with the move and the rest? Oh hell to tha naw, I'm not moving to Hunstville. And then the jobs ended and the people scattered. Poof. Such is the life of a contractor.

I still plan to take some time off. So far I have watched lots of Netflix movies, I've recaulked the master bathroom tub and toilet (ick) and I am slowly going through my clothes that either need to be hand washed or require mending and/or ironing. I know no matter how much I get accomplished, there will always be more to do. It's just that the time always goes too quickly. Poof.

My weekend started on Monday

2010-04-23T17:15:00.004-04:00

And aside from the "WTF, I can't believe I don't have a job right now" feeling it has been mostly fabulous. I took lots of naps (the cats are really onto something), did lots of laundry and I planted flowers in front of the house. Oh, and updating this here blog.

What I didn't do:
-Go to the gym
-Clean any part of the house beyond the "basic maintenance" and "let's move some dishes so I can actually cook" level
-Read the stack of library books on my dresser

I am working on getting a paying job. I am still coming to accept that I might not find the perfect job this time, or ever. It just doesn't seem to exist, but in the meantime, let's find something bearable that covers the bills and provides enough for me to save for when I retire and have my time to myself again.

I have been watching Netflix movies (thank you, instant watch) and probably burning up my new laptop battery in the process, but it's been good. Some of the movies are pure duds (I watched a movie called "Neverwas" which is filled with well known actors but it went straight to DVD. See also, "Tiptoes." These would have been career enders, so I can see why they got canned). For every crap movie, there is a hidden gem (okay, not sure if it's a one to one ratio, but I'm sure it's close to that), so if you like space science fiction that involves more thinking and less leaning on expensive special effects to get by, (Armageddon, I'm looking at you), check out Moon.

Think way back

2010-04-21T14:42:00.002-04:00

Do you remember the commercial with the kids graduating high school? Someone asks one kid what he plans to do after graduation and his answer is, "Go home. Make a sandwich."

It cracks me up to this day. After Monday, I feel like that kid. It has been years since I have been off work, unemployed and with no known follow on job. For today I am fine. I have laundry to do, naps to take and if I were at work, I couldn't have made a quick run downtown to drop off the badges my husband forgot at home. See? It's not all bad. And after that, guess what? I came home and made a sandwich (PB & J).

In the broader scheme I guess I still feel this way. yes, two weeks after my own high school graduation I left for college and stayed there for four years. I graduated with the rare benefit of knowing I would be a second lieutenant in the Army. Then when I left the army, I was that kid. I was home every day, wondering what to do next. I eventually took a job as a contractor working for the Army. That's been my very general job description since then. We moved to D.C. and I did some more soul searching and then I took another contracting job with the Army (notice a pattern?) By then, even my husband had left the Army and worked for a pharmaceutical company. But now he too works as a contractor supporting the (wait for it) Navy.

Most of the time I can accept that this is not who I am. I know that this allows me to pay the bills and fund the things that I enjoy that aren't free and I have to accept that I don't have to love my job, but not dreading it is also a huge plus.

Sometimes you think, "Is that it? Is this all there is?" Sometimes life is pretty good. Sometimes you wish you were that high school kid again, not because you loved high school so much, but because at the time, it really seemed like the possibilities were endless.

Where's my chianti and fava beans?

2010-04-21T08:22:00.002-04:00

This sounds like a good recipe, but I couldn't find black people in the spice rack.

More adventures in job hunting

2010-04-20T16:58:00.011-04:00

I actually had an interview last Wednesday. I have already updated my online job profiles, so while browsing through the list of jobs, I applied to one. It sounded like something I could do, so why not?

I'm not kidding when I say that I had an email from the HR person in my inbox within two hours. Wow, I thought, that's a first. Usually you apply to these things and it's like shouting into a black hole. I never expect a response. Yeah, maybe someone got your resume, but there are many others like it and no one really cares if that one is yours. I took it as a positive sign and I contacted the guy to set up a time and date.

I set it up to coincide with a career conference. Have I shared how much I detest job fairs? I really do. I think I have scored two interviews from job fairs and one was a pyramid scheme, I mean "multilevel marketing" career. The big, well known companies usually have a giant crowd around their booth, while the little companies are so specialized that when you talk to them, you can already see their head starting to shake no. It's frustrating.

I printed directions to the interview from my job address (I know, what is this, the 1990's? Our GPS is currently being borrowed and I am too cheap to pay for the iPhone GPS application). But anyway--the directions seemed simple enough. It wasn't too far away, and it should not have taken more than 30 minutes to get there.

45 minutes later...

Yes, I know. Of course I got lost. You didn't think I was actually going to make it there, did you? Anyway--45 minutes later, I was frantically searching my phone's web browser for a phone number for these people. I called and admitted I was lost. Without knowing where I was, I promised I would be there by 10:30 (30 minutes after the scheduled time). I then turned on Google maps on my phone (aka the great battery drainer) and found my way to the office.

The interview was not one of my finer performances. The good news was that this was not a job I wanted anyway. The interviewer was the person I would have been replacing. It started out well enough, but the more I heard about the position, the less interested I felt towards getting it. The title included the word "assistant." What does that tell you? Well, the way the job was described, you were some director's assistant and your job was to do the things she could not handle, simply because her plate was overflowing and there are only a limited number of hours in a day. In the interviewer's words, you were expected to "take" work from your boss. she also mentioned that personality was going to be a big factor in determining the right person for the job. Red flag alert. Personality? Is this code that the boss is some kind of fire-breather? She went on to describe some other "quirks" of the leadership while insisting it was a fun place to work. Nothing she described sounded "fun" to me. I was still frazzled from getting lost finding the place, but I didn't feel too terrible that I was bombing. Before I left, I made sure to say "You know, this is the first thing I applied to on Monster where I actually got a response and an interview." The interviewer replied, "I know! That's how desperate we are!"

OUCH.

The job fair--well--I didn't need to be there at a certain time so of course I was able to find it no problemo.

Getting back to my office--I could either take the toll road (easy, but I didn't know if I had enough quarters and the same person who borrowed the GPS borrowed the EZ pass) or I could take the back roads of Fairfax county. I turned on Google maps and went through the back roads. Why did it take me an hour to travel about 15 miles? Some of the little windy roads were enjoyable but there were also many wrong turns and many suspicions of weird engine noises coming from under the hood.

I have a feeling this is just the start of something "fun."

Jobpacalypse now

2010-04-20T16:42:00.005-04:00

Well it finally happened--yesterday when I was in my office minding my own business, the company president and HR director stopped by. I knew exactly what was going on. I was getting ~~canned~~ laid off. I did receive a small severance, and a handy little letter and offers to help carry my stuff to my car, which I declined. I had not officially started the Andy Dufresne shuffle of carrying a little out of my ~~cell~~ office day by day, but I had some things in bags ready to go. I was prepared for the trap door, or ejection seat, or any other method of getting the boot quickly, but for some odd reason, I still didn't expect it to be that day. I mean, who gets laid off on a Monday?

I know, denial is a river in...

Anyway, I was packed up, signed out and headed home by noon. I have never been laid off before. I did get "the letter" before and "notice" at my last job, but they didn't give me the boot that very day. I had a few weeks to hang out. It was like being a prisoner waiting to walk that green mile. I moved quickly, and actually found another job. I wound up turning in a resignation letter to my previous employer, so technically, I was never laid off.

I am kicking myself for not considering other offers. The last company actually made an offer to me in 2007, which I declined. They were the first ones I called when I got "the letter." I quickly accepted a job offer, probably because I had always wondered what would have been had I accepted their original offer. Maybe it was a hasty decision made under the cloud of not wanting to not be paid anymore. I know hindsight is 20/20. Had I known I would be in the same position roughly six months after starting work with them, I probably would have declined the offer. I'll have to add a crystal ball to my birthday wish list.

It was a good company. They had bagels and cookies and fresh fruit daily (with the exception of Friday, which was hot egg and pork product sandwich day). There were no vending machines, you could just take soda or juice from the refrigerator, free of charge. Someone set up new flower arrangements by the elevators every week. For once in my life, I actually had my own office, and a window. I had a MacBook as a work computer, and this didn't require reams of paperwork to justify. The benefits were unbeatable and my retirement fund is 25% larger than it was just six months ago. Oh and the job itself--kind of a pain in the ass, but given the other perks it was tolerable. It was nice while it lasted.

This time I'm going to be a little more cautious and a little less hasty.

Life is a Smiths Album

2010-04-16T17:03:00.015-04:00

I watched "Just Like Heaven" yesterday--I am slightly embarrassed that it was in my Netflix queue (but not embarrassed enough to not mention it here). Recently we downsized our subscription (and by "we," I mean my husband) and this eliminated my queue, which means I have to go in and hijack his queue if I want to see anything besides "2012" and "Transformers 2" and any other over CGI'd disaster blockbuster atrocity. I'm kidding. Once in awhile he surprises me, which was why I assumed that this movie was his choice.

I know it's fluff. I knew the ending was going to be "and they lived happily ever after." I still sat through the 90 minutes of movie as if I didn't know this. I ~~heart~~ like Mark Ruffalo. I like Reese Witherspoon. I like the Cure (the title was nabbed from one of their most popular songs). The reality was that this movie should have been called "Girlfriend in a Coma," which is a Smiths song, and though it gives away a major element of the story, it is closer to the plot. "Just Like Heaven" just sounds nicer. Who wants to go to the box office and say "Two tickets for 'Girlfriend in a Coma,' please?"

I know what people say--Oh they're so depressing. Oh that stupid suicidal Morrissey, he hasn't offed himself yet? Oh all that angst. Oh I hate his voice (my husband).

Tongue in cheek, people! I like it because you know what? Some of those songs ring true. When life turns melodramatic and the world is against you, you really do feel like you just stepped out of a Smiths album. Currently playing for me: "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now."

With my weird non-job still-going-to-the-office-but-not-canned-yet situation, I can't think of a more fitting line than:

I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I'm miserable now

Tongue in cheek! I know it's not so bad. Let's just hope that the ten ton truck doesn't come for me next.

First date

2010-04-16T11:26:00.002-04:00

You know what is a terrible idea for a first date? The movies. Think about it—you’re in a dark theater making eye contact with a giant screen and you’re not talking (and you’re not supposed to talk). It’s a pretty bad idea.

I am married to a movie lover. We went on a few dates in college but I won’t go so far to say that we were dating. We went to movies. What was the first movie we saw? Are you ready for this one?

Mr. Holland’s Opus. Yes, that’s right, a movie about a high school music teacher who missed out on some of his life long dreams of making it big. You would have thought we were thrice our ages instead of people barely into their twenties.

Our second movie was “Twister,” which admittedly is a little more date-ish. I know at some point future husband bought a drink at one of these movies and asked if I wanted a sip. One straw, people. Of course I said no. He had no idea that I had an issue with backwash--and even if it's just one part per million backwash in a giant vat of soft drink it's still backwash.

It took a few more years, a few more dates and a few more movies before I would say we qualified as “dating.” Not only that but we are both shy and quiet which means things were a-w-k-w-a-r-d (and I am sure there are days when he wishes we could go back to me being quiet but those days are gone).

The lesson is what? I don’t know. Slow and steady? Go bowling instead?

J-O-B

2010-04-06T17:31:00.005-04:00

I talked to the company HR Director today. Our company's HR department is a one woman show and she's fabulous. Unlike a lot of corporate HR departments, she really is looking out for the employees. My last company had a phone number you called and you received a ticket number. Supposedly someone would get back to you in 24 hours. What kind of thing is that? We actually had an HR person in the office where I worked, but she was only supposed to support the support staff, not the employees on actual contracts. We had to call someone in another office. Oh, and there was an HR investigation on my boss that was being conducted by an HR person two time zones away. Does that make any kind of sense? I believe the corporate policy was based on making it such a colossal pain in the ass to contact anyone regarding a problem that you would just give up and not bother. Imagine how refreshing it was to join my new company and realize all you have to do is send an email, make a phone call, and/or walk down the hallway and talk to a real person.

Her words to me were "Don't panic yet." She must have said this ten times. I'm still looking for other jobs. I even saw a great one at (wait for it) the Department of Labor. It was posted today. I need to think about applying and do a whole hearted job at completing the application (vs. my usual half assed click to forward the resume).

I know it could be so much worse. I think I'm doing alright (I have this urge to shop but I am on shopping hiatus until this is figured out). I realize some of this anxiety is me feeling sorry for myself after my husband was laid off, I was nearly laid off and now we're trying to recover from the not so great job-shake up of 2009.

Trip through the Lou

2010-04-06T17:01:00.004-04:00

When I was four years old we took a cross country road trip from New York to California. My memory of the sequence of events is spotty and I only remember specific incidents from the trip.
1) The ride
No, no, it wasn't this. We had a 1978 Dodge Diplomat. It looked a lot like this one, except ours was blue on blue. The vehicle's appearance supports my theory that the 1970's were the start of the dark age of car design. The Diplomat (who names a car "Diplomat?" Was there an "Ambassador" too?) was known as the "new" car. Our other car was a 1968 Dodge Dart. Take a guess what we called that one. That's right, the "old" car.

The accomodations:
We stayed in Holiday Inns. Somehow the four of us shared a room and survived. In fact, the sight of the old Holiday Inn signs used to excite me, proving that at one point in my life I was truly easy to please.

The sightseeing:

The St. Louis drive by: I remember passing through St. Louis as my dad ordered my sister to take some photos of the arch. I remember wanting to stop and get a closer look, but we passed it and that neat looking thing was gone, only to reappear when the blurry photos were developed.

Cities: We visited San Francisco and L.A. I don’t remember which one came first. Near san Francisco, we stayed with the family of the realtor for our house in New York. This realtor had sons (and a daughter?) and a giant Afghan hound that I could ride like a horse. All of us put on KISS make up one night (I was the cat). The theme song seemed to be “We don’t need no education.” The beach was right down the street from their house. The weird part was that about 10 years later we wound up moving there. We tried to contact that same realtor, but she had moved elsewhere. We used the same agency and made friends with the new realtor.

National Parks: We visited the sequoias and the Grand Canyon. I don't remember much from these, but luckily someone took photos.

Theme Parks and terror: We also went to the happiest place on earth. The happy parts included the Dumbo ride. The not so happy parts involved the “Pirates of the Caribbean” ride. I don’t know who was responsible for deciding this was appropriate for my four year old eyes, but I do know this ride terrified me. I am pretty sure I screamed the entire time. It traumatized me so much that when it was time to get onto “It’s a Small World” (which involved a similar little boat that carried you through the ride) hysterics ensued. I’m pretty sure I was coerced onto the boat and I remember calming down when it turned out to be harmless.

We also went to Universal Studios, which involved the train trip over the collapsing bridge. No one told me it wasn’t real. To this day, in my head it really happened. I’m surprised my poor young heart didn’t quit on me.

No place like home (and mustaches):
The final straw was the trip home. In one of the hotels where we stopped, my dad got the idea to shave his mustache. Keep in mind that I had never seen him without it. Yup, more hysterics. I was screaming as if a strange man had invaded our hotel room, and in a way, that was what my head was telling me.

Some people might think this kind of road trip is a true adventure (*cough* my husband *cough*) but I’m not inclined to agree. Maybe it was from hours in the back seat of the car sucking on bottles of bug juice, playing tic tac toe and counting cars of a certain color, but as an adult, I find myself extremely averse to long trips in the car.

And now for something completely different

2010-04-05T14:22:00.019-04:00

My husband and I have actually made it to the movies on a few occasions, a rare feat when you have a kid who can't watch the gory, or the scary, or the inappropriately funny with you (well, you could bring the kid, but be prepared to be judged and hear a chorus of teeth sucking and "oh no they din't"s when you bring "the baby" to an R-rated flick).

We have seen:
Repo Men
Okay I had to break my rotten tomatoes rule on this one. Usually if Rottentomatoes ranks something as rotten, I use that as an excuse to nix watching a movie. Most of the time that rule applies to something my husband wants me to watch with him (that usually involves a ridiculous budget, a hammy cast and/or Jerry Bruckheimer). Hypocrite that I am, I still wanted to see it. Why? Jude Law. I know he's lost some points due to the Phil Collins-esque pattern baldness, and the nanny cheating incident and the lollipop physique, but I like watching him. It also stars Forest Whitaker. It took a science fiction concept and a dystopian future (it's always interesting to see how that's portrayed, usually it's dark, dingy and depressing) and a plot that starts off okay but makes less and less sense as you progress towards the end. This isn't the only science fiction thing I've weathered due to J.L. I also watched "A.I." which is sort of unwatchable, except for Gigolo Joe. You come out of the theater wishing the whole movie had been about him instead. Oh and "Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow." Sky who and the what, you say? Yeah, that one might have lasted in the theaters for an entire two hours. But, Jude Law! And lots of ridiculous green screen fun. Hm. It turns out rotten movies that star an actor with the initials "J.L." seem to defy my common sense when it comes to picking a movie.

Hot Tub Time Machine
I know, I know, right? It's like, Noooo, come on, how could you blow a night out on this crap? My husband rarely sees comedy movies in the theaters and I figured out why. If you watch a bad movie in another genre, then it turns into a comedy and there's still some level of enjoyment there. If a comedy fails, you've got nothing. It doesn't become a drama, or an action flick, or a visual masterpiece, it's just a waste of money and time. I admit that I also liked "The Hangover" and "Knocked Up." I can watch, laugh at the jokes, and then be perfectly fine if I never saw them again. They're disposable movies. You go in knowing it's stupid humor while feeling incredulous that someone actually greenlighted a movie involving time travel through a hot tub (and you bought tickets). You lose some brain cells, you hand over your money, but it was still fun.

The blindsided

2010-04-05T14:06:00.003-04:00

Just days after she won an Oscar, news that Sandra Bullock’s husband was messing around came out. I can’t even imagine being in that situation (if my husband managed such a stunt, I would be devastated, but once I regained the ability to speak, I would have say to him, “Well played, sir. Well played.”) The biggest deal is that everyone considered Sandra Bullock to be the one marrying down to a dirtbag, so the question for the cheating dirtbag was, “Why eat a burger when you have steak at home?” (A: Because sometimes you just really want a burger). Sandra Bullock is one of the few famous people on my husband’s “list” (The list also includes Janet Jackson and Eva Mendes). He loves that Sandy.

After the dust settles the next step seems to involve the offender checking into some kind of rehab and disappearing from the news until they emerge a changed-for-the-better-person.

As a government contractor, rule number 1 seems to be this: contracts end. As in, once the time is up and you have accomplished (or not accomplished) what you have agreed to do, you can no longer justify charging to said contract, which means you are not in a good situation. “On the bench” is what my company calls it, and while that sounds like fun in a college intramural softball team way, it stinks.

The good part was that I didn’t love my project. The customer was sort of a pain. I was the buffer between her and my company. It wasn’t an especially challenging job and the things I thought could make things better were not allowed to happen because the contract had strict guidelines on what we would provide. I had all these brilliant ideas (really, they were), and nowhere to execute them. So, while the situation of not having a job sucks, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I am a tiny bit relieved.

On to the sucky parts—
1) How I found out:
I work at the government site (or should I say, “worked,” but we’re getting to that) part of the time and the rest of the time I was in our company office. A few weeks ago I had the tedious task of filling in a spreadsheet so the blank values we had in our database could be filled with (duh) data. It took ages (“ages”= a little over a week). I would stream episodes of “This American Life” on NPR and I would go to town looking up possible values for the blanks. It was dreadful but at the same time it felt like I was accomplishing something and contributing to the cause. The following week, the customer called me to ask when I planned to come in and turn in my badge. I thought, “why turn in my badge when I will be there next week to continue working?” Well the obvious answer is: Because you won’t be there next week to continue working. Duh. But the wheels in my head hadn’t turned to reach that conclusion yet. I thought it was just a case of the customer being difficult again.

2) I was holding down the fort alone the week the shit hit the fan.
My manager was not available and the other guy on the project was working on something else. My manager returned towards the end of the week. He was also under the impression that our work should be continuing. Had things gone properly, someone would have clued him in first, he would have told me what was going on, and I would have concluded on my own that I needed to turn in my badge.

3) The turn in
This was just…awkward. I had to go in, tell the IT people to close my email account, reset my own voicemail (this was a failure because the directions were wrong and the thing would not let me reset it, but you know what? Not my problem), get people to sign off on my outprocessing check list and finally, turn in my badge. I talked to the customer and put on the brave face saying “these things happen,” instead of going out in a blaze of glory because these are the same people that decided to eliminate my job. I returned to the office with nothing else to do.

4) The alternative
I have been offered the possibility to work in support of another project. The issue is that this would require a one and a half hour drive (in good traffic). Have I mentioned that I don’t carry a spare tire in my car? I don’t have runflats, either. I just envision myself stranded somewhere along the highway because of some kind of car problem. I know part of this fear stems from taking public transit for so many years. If a train broke down or there was a delay, it made the news. You were also stranded with hundreds of other passengers someplace along the highly populated train route. I’m not saying that the train is an ideal way to get to work in all cases, but it has some benefits (and don’t anyone say, but you can listen to audiobooks. My reading comprehension seems to be at its best when the information is going through my eyes).

5) The hustle (not this kind). It was September when I last looked for a job. I felt I had time to mentally prepare for it and I had some contacts in mind. It had been over 2 years since my last job change and I felt energized enough to get myself back out there. This time it feels different. I like my company. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t think I have a choice. I am planning to talk to the HR director but I’m not hopeful anything like “Work 10 hours a week from home for your current rate of pay” is going to turn up for me. I did update my profile on Monster and I signed in to multiple employers’ websites to register and upload my resume (here’s an idea, why don’t these companies get together and use one database application?) I did get a call today from a recruiter. It was going pretty well until salary (and what sounded like a lack of any kind of benefits) came up. When he said “Well you could take this now since you’re not working…” I pretty much stopped listening. It’s not that I’m above taking a pay cut, it’s that those words translate to: “Hey, I would like a commission if you get hired, so go on and take this even if it’s not quite what you want.” I want to say, “Oh, well, you know, I didn’t know I didn’t have a job and I needed one. Since you mentioned it, sure! Let me go on and take it.”

I wish there were a rehab I could go to—hide out for 30-45 days, and emerge at my own press conference as a completely refreshed and no longer jaded employee.

Truth is dumber than Onion

2010-03-26T18:02:00.007-04:00

I love The Onion. Sometimes I run across articles that look like they belong in the Onion, but they're real. Sometimes it's the onion free truth that makes you cry.

This black-and-white handout photo provided by the General Accountability Office (GAO) shows a product billed as an air room cleaner that was actually a space heater with a feather duster and fly strips attached. Fifteen phony products, including the air cleaner, won a label from the government certifying them as energy efficient in a test of the federal 'Energy Star' program. Investigators concluded the program is 'vulnerable to fraud and abuse.'

Open Book

2010-03-25T10:23:00.004-04:00

I was going through a bookcase the other day. I love books, but they’re heavy, and heavy things aren’t really the best thing when you’re considering moving. I had to go through and be brutally honest with myself—was I going to read it again? Could I find it at a library? If I bought it and hadn’t read it, was I ever going to? If I did plan to read it, could I find it at a library? You get the point. I am the person that says she won’t buy a Kindle (or e-reader) because 1) I’m cheap, and 2) I like books. Books don’t need to be charged, and if the book gets damaged (water bottles have a strange way of leaking all of their contents around my books), you’re not damaging an entire collection. If you leave it someplace (yes I've done it), you didn’t just throw away $200+ dollars.

At the bottom of the bookcase are my journals from college. I wrote in them every year I was there. I didn’t write “Dear Diary” or have a lock on it or anything corny like that, but I wrote pretty regularly. People say this is a good habit—it’s therapeutic, and you’re keeping a record of events as you see them when they’re happening, not later when your memory is fuzzy and you embellish the past into something better than it was. I will probably always have them, but here’s the problem—I can’t go back and read them without feeling embarrassed for myself. It’s like time traveling without the advantage of being able to interact with those characters from the past. Suddenly you’re reading about things that happened and how you felt, but you’re also thinking, who is this dumby? I read a page, cringe, turn the page, read, cringe and repeat until I’m compelled to shut the book.

Some people say (who am I, Fox News?) “But the past is what makes us who we are!” Please. That’s just a way to excuse the sheer idiocy that went on. I don’t keep a journal, but I write here, and what you see is just a highly edited sliver of what goes on in my head and in real life. If there’s anything I learned from those books I wrote in college, it's that sometimes the fuzzy (and sometimes embellished) memory really is better than the young, dumb truth.

Early Bird

2010-03-11T21:36:00.007-05:00

Apparently Conan O'Brien is doing a tour. As soon as I found out about this, I looked for tickets. The D.C. show is on June 8th. Well, I checked the calendar and initially thought "~~Shit!~~ Crap! I won't be here!" I am visiting my best friend in June. I try to go every year (or she comes here). Then I thought, "Oh good, I will be here." I will be catching a red eye flight home, which means I get in an Oh-dark-thirty in the morning and that night I could have a night on the town with my husband. We got to see his man-crush in October, so I should be able to see my Co-nan crush in June, right? Fair is fair. Besides, my husband thinks he's funny too. It wouldn't be like he'd be checking his iPhone throughout the show, like he did at a certain Cure concert or something.

Apparently word got out through Twitter. I have a Facebook account but I drew the line at Twitter. It just sounds too annoying and high maintenance. Some people look at Facebook the way I look at Twitter. "Why should I get an account? It's just people twittering or tittering or tweetering in 140 characters or less. Why do I need this?" Well I got my answer today, didn't I? Apparently the tickets sold out pretty quickly, or at least for the D.C. shows, you can't even find tickets in pairs anymore. If I really wanted to find some tickets now, I guess they wouldn't come cheap. Get it? Cheap? Cheep? CHEEP CHEEP? Eh?

is this thing on?

Attack on the Black Van

2010-02-21T11:47:00.005-05:00

From the spam folder:

Hi,
I am a British soldier currently in Afghanistan. I am with the 40th Regiment Royal Artillery in Afghanistan¹. We hijacked a suspected Van painted black between the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan. The Door gunners sitting behind machine guns in the Black Van² tried shooting at our direction but we lunched a combat backup attack³ on the Black Van none of the Taliban survived the attack.

We discovered other currencies including US dollars of about $ 16 million loaded inside the Black Van with so many types of machine guns. We want to move this money out of this place, before we declare other items in the van to the international press. This place is a war zone you will keep our share pending the end of our assignment here in Afghanistan.
We will take 70%. You take 30%. No strings attached, just help us move it out of Afghanistan, Afghanistan is a war zone. We plan to use secured logistics courier to ship the money out in a large box.⁴
If you can help to receive the box for us, I will send you the full details. Kindly send me an e-mail signifying your interest including your most confidential telephone/fax numbers for quick communication also your contact details. This should be a secret and must be a secret between us.⁵

Respectfully,
Gen Sir David Richards (right)

1. Well, if he claims he's a soldier, who am I to argue?
2. The capitalization is a nice touch. I feel this distinguished "Black Van" could probably do with a trademark symbol as well.
3. If you "lunched an attack" does this mean you called in a fleet of Schwans trucks?
4. Shipping money out in a large box=brilliant!
5. Lips=sealed

Sociopathic bosses and you

2010-02-17T17:24:00.008-05:00

I got this article in an email message today. It's titled "Our fascination with sociopathic bosses." It sounds kind of severe, but I clicked the link and started reading. According to the article, a sociopathic boss is someone who can be charming when the occasion demands it -- usually with customers, clients or friends -- but who, in the workplace, are domineering, angry and verbally abusive. They publicly humiliate employees and show little tolerance for people who make errors, often firing them on the spot.

It sounds pretty heavy to attach "sociopath" to anything, especially to a person who is supposed to be in charge of other people. Given the definition above, my last boss fits the bill.

I haven't written much about what happened at my last job. I treat it sort of like Fight Club. The boss in question was in charge of a team of employees, and we were rolling along until summer, when the wheels began to wobble. They fell off by the time fall came around. I think I put up with a lot more than usual because we got away with a lot. Don't feel like facing the noise? Sure, take a sick day! We did birthday lunches at nice restaurants and we sort of all did our own thing and as long as ~~the money was flowing~~ the contract was good, he was good with us. If funding was cut or a customer didn't see the need to continue with our work, things got ugly. I witnessed more than one explosion with more than one person on the team. I was never the direct target, but the public humiliation affected everyone at some point. It was hard to receive but almost worse to see someone else get pummeled. We had meetings twice a week and the running joke was that someone would inevitably have a turn in the barrel.

I learned a few things (HR is not your friend, for one). I might revisit the last two years and write a book. I made a few good friends and I got a pay raise. I even picked up some minor software skills. It wasn't all terrible but I'm glad someone showed me the door when it was determined that my "skill set" was no longer required. It was time to go anyway.