Update

I'm back home.

HUGE FREAKING SURPRISE.

Thank goodness I didn't even bother to shower this morning.

How ridiculous.
I got to work at 10:30AM.

Then I was sent back out on an errand, that's when it started freezing rain.
When I returned I made darn sure that my department knew of the freezing rain.

Then other departments were let go.

Some people were just leaving. Others got permission.
I kept the up to minute news weather information on my desktop.

It went from bad to worse in ten minutes. Then they started closing down freeways.
OK--that is a sign that you need to go home.
Not us.
Our department was the only one left. The only one!

Then there was an announcement that they closed the building.
You'll never believe what my Boss' answer was to that. Are you ready, here it comes:
"I'm not ready to go"

WHAT. THE?

They closed the offices down, the facilities/ cleaning crew was leaving! HELLO.
I work for a bunch of workaholics. They come into office on Sundays. Uh-huh.
Its all about the 'face time'.

Me and a co-worker rolled eyes at each other.
Was she kidding us?
NO.

She actually went to her higher up, also a workaholic, to discuss the building closure while we waited and watched the building crew fly out of there. They didn't need to be told twice.

Oh and then we have a half hour meeting to discuss our projects and where we are at before we can leave...oh it almost killed me.

I just knew I'd be right back here before Oprah comes on. Why did I bother going in? WHY?

But I'm safe, no slips on the road, and no fishtailing either.
I hope everyone in North Texas takes it safely :)

Gosh Darnnit Drat

When every school in the city is closed due to inclement weather AND they are pouring sand and salt on the roads...don't you think your offices should be, uhm, closed?!?

HA HA HA. Joke on me.

I am so at home watching the Real World Denver (WTF has happened to our Youths?) at 9AM because I called in earlier and spoke to the receptionist who said, its not bad coming in but its the going home thats going to be bad, so if you have a long commute, don't bother.

YIPPEE!

I left a message for my Boss, cuddled into the couch with a bowl of Fruit Loops, and watched Meredith (looking oh so chic) and Matt on the Today Show. Then some MTV videos, scowled as I heard someone running a marathon in the community gym down below me (its too freaking cold to work out!), and settled for the worst/best TV ever.

(Colie, you should know not to hook up with the Roomie on the 1st night and expect claim for the rest of the season. Come. On.)

Then the phone rang.

HA HA.

My Boss totally told me that she drove (a lesser commute than me) and that the roads are fine and when I come into work, she'll explain the procedure to me. HA.
And that they'll watch the weather and if it gets worse (UHM- like the News Storm Team totally said it would and I tend to believe weather people over a Boss when it comes to my personal safety) they will start sending people home.

Uhmm...so aren't I better just staying here (with my Flash Drive and working from home?)

Because 1. I haven't taken a shower yet. 2. I'm blogging. 3. I so know by the time I get there, check some emails, turn around, they'll be sending people home.

And if they don't? I will be so upset if I am stuck up there because there is no way in hell that I will drive my high top SUV in sleet or ice.
NO. WAY.

I don't even like to drive it in the rain. I always fishtail. Always. So you can imagine, ice.

Welcome to Texas. We don't drive in the snow/ice/sleet and definetely don't know how to drive in the rain.

Bugger. Guess I better get to work.

And I am so taking my time getting ready, you know, just in cases, that they'll call me and be like 'never mind'.

God Bless. The schools are closed. Come, on people!!

The Infamous Script

Dedicated to Cruiser Mel & Swishy. I bring you Kate's break up script, remember this was for breaking up over the phone, hasn't been tested for face to face conversations. We are wuss girls and didn't think we'd survive a face to face break up.
Good luck, girls!

*It is very important to remember the goal of this conversation: You are dumping someone. Not taking a break. Not seeing other people. You are ridding him for good. At once you must delete his number and throw away any paper in which his number is on--this means your cell phone bill. Also remember, the power is all yours.

(RING RING)

Him- hey
You- Hello. (you have to remain business like, this is not a shoot the breeze call)
Him- how are you? /what's up?/ how have you been?/ what are you doing?
You- I have something to share with you and need to make this short (get right to it, just remember he is not the guy for you, there is no time for small talk)
Him- Yes?
You- I must end whatever it is that we are doing.
Him- (obvious shock because you are the best thing that has ever happened to him)
You- I know this won't work so there is no point in continuing on

THIS IS WHERE THE CONVERSATION CAN TAKE MANY TURNS.
He will either be very upset and argue with you.

He could ask why- this is where you need to be strong and not give a reason. A reason is just another excuse for him to hold onto a good thing like you a wee bit longer and keep the conversation going. He is now trying to catalog the tone and decibel of your voice so he can keep it forever.

He can agree with you. This would be the best scenario. BUT he is a man and if he does agree with you, he is upset that you beat him to this and will argue with you. This is just a tactic so he can 'land' on top or spin this story any which way he can when he has to explain to his friends whatever happened to the best thing that happened to him.

You- I think its best that we don't remain friends. (again give no reason, stick to the script)
Him- (it's hard to tell where he'll take it from here. hopefully he just remains quiet, in shock, obviously)
You- Take care. Bye. (You must remain polite and use the take care bit. Men have been using it on us for years, its about time that they got hit with their own shit)

Total time of conversation: no more than 10 minutes. If he puts you on hold. Hang up and text it to him. If he has you on hold than the conversation was not important to him i.e you.

GOOD LUCK.

MY EYES!

You can even see her C-section scar!

Oh. HELL. To the No.

One picture I can understand. Haven't we all been commmando at one point in our life? And she just happens to be famous so the papparazzi are all up in it. It happens. It has happened. How many celeb's crotches have we seen?

It's like whose crotch have we not seen?

Here's my question: After the first two nights when Brit was caught panty-less; wouldn't you think that someone, SOMEONE, would tell her to buy a thong? Or, wait for it...that she herself would think, hmm, maybe I should just wear some short shorts tonight?

Part of me thinks this is being done on purpose. (Her C-section scar...ew. I so didn't need to see that) And at least she is bare down there and we are not victim to seeing an unruly mess, if you know what I mean. And I think you do.

Aiyee.

In other news, I caught the Oprah replay tonight. I just fell in love with Julia Roberts all over again. Dakota Fanning...not so much. I don't know what it is about that girl, but I am over it. So she can act and she's so young. Yippee. Let's wait until she's twenty something to be calling her a genius OR at least until she's Britney's age. You know what I'm saying?

Back to Julia. They just don't produce them like her anymore. Who will be the next Julia Roberts? (oh God please not Jennifer Aniston or Kirsten Dunst; like I've read in magazines) Has that hey day ended? Just like the 'super model' days? The Superstar era is over? And its now run by whom?

I miss Julia. I miss the excitement of anticipating her next big romantic comedy. Hearing that laugh. I just miss her. And wish she'd give up the cartoon circuit and come back to real life action film. PLEASE!

And speaking of cartoons...
Can they stop already? Seriously. Everytime I look around there's one coming out on the big screen. What the is up with that?
Happy Feet. Flushed Away. Big Bully. Animal this, animal that.
I understand that we have to keep the kiddos entertained. If for anything that they don't end up on the streets, drugged up, or out at clubs panty-less. But shoot, they didn't have this many cartoons in a theater when I was a kid and I think we turned out okay...well...uhm, you know.
And yes, technology has changed so cartoons are just so bad ass now. But, really?
Nicole Kidman as the voice of a penguin?
While she is busy voicing animation, I have to put up being entertained by second rate acting on the real life action movies and its not Julia Roberts.

When You Put It Like That

Always Kris has this up today:

The higher you fly, the harder you crash when you hit the ground.

uhm hmm...

I've been thinking along those lines all day today. I even described it to a certain friend, like I was high on some super duper illegal drug and had no where to go but down all day Sunday. And boy did I go down.

I've never personally taken any sort of drug. But I've heard that ones like, coke, can get you so high the crash is the worst thing in the world.

Maybe it's like this.

O, Canada was not the drug.

I think the drug was my feeling that I was on top of it all. You know, because I was such a badass dumping people with scripts, found a new job, have an assistant who I don't know what to do with, and hello--boys want me at the bar.
Yeah, I wasn't full of myself, but yeah I was full of myself.

And there was still an emptiness. Something lacking.

And that hole, that hole was which I fell in Sunday.

And the fall was a hard ass trip. And I decided to take others down with me in hopes of feeling better about myself. But being mean to Trombone only made it worse. And participating with Bruiser did me nothing. At the end I was still crying the river.

Yes, I know I did nothing wrong, but it doesn't feel like that. Maybe its because I was all alone on Thanksgiving. Maybe its because a clock is ticking - really loud, and I'm not listening to it. Unh unh. Maybe its just the pre-birthday funk.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Disappointed

That word carries so much weight. (Texas Cinderella knows)

I am weeks away from turning twenty-nine and lately all I've been doing is acting like I am twenty. And that is not good, believe me.

Basically I am disappointed in myself.

When I was 23, I was very good friends with a couple of women, who were 28 and 29. (Basically I was friends with them and they were friends with me to get to this cutie I knew)
They were single and I thought they were pathetic. (please note, it was my 23 year old self that thought they were pathetic)
I always thought that I'd be married with at least one child by the time I made it to their ages.

Well, guess what? Neither, nor.

And I don't think I'm pathetic but when I go around doing what I did this weekend, I feel like I've stepped back five years (because that sort of behavior is not the kind that gets you what you really want. In the end you just end up, crying a river for yourself in your bed all day)

I feel like I went down 50 points in the self esteem department. And I have no clue how to get it back to norm - is there a normal, when it comes to self esteem?

Yeah I was feeling so great about O, Canada. Then it hit me, he lives there and I just about wasted an entire night talking and kissing someone that I will never hear from again. Just great. That sort of behavior is what I did when I was 23.

Then to make the matters even better (sarcasm) Bruiser starts texting me and I respond? Validation. That someone here in my city (kind a) wants me.
That did no good for the already broken esteem.

And since I was feeling low about myself, I had to take it a step further and call Trombone. To end things and make it clear to him, thats what I was doing. I was mean and only was done with such vindictiveness so that I could feel better about myself. Yeah, that lasted about 5 minutes.

Then all the disappointment in the world landed on me.

To cap it all off, I had a dream about him, again.

I woke up and ended up crying that disappointment river and reflecting on my 'life' at three in the morning.

Now?

The disappointment is still a funky cloud over my head. You know that scene in Hope Floats where Birdee is feeling down and out on the bathroom floor, post-drunk and feeling disappointed in herself? Yep, that's me. I've been here several times before, just not this hard.

The Best Kiss

I am a sucker for accents. I'm a bigger sucker for foreigners. I'm attracted to the broken English and foreign slang. And especially the foreign mystery.

For the past few months I've been bitching to friends that I need to meet and date a foreigner. You know, to get the word out, in case they know of any. Because I have no clue where foreigners hang out and am thisclose to just hanging out at the International Terminal at DFW Airport. Seriously.

You can imagine my excitement when I found out the guy I was eyeing half the night at the bar was Canadian. I had thought he was the hottest thing at the bar last night and then to find out he was not American?
Super score!!

At first I didn't think he was interested in me because it was his friend that kept staring at me. And I had to do some moves to indicate interest with the friend in order to get to the hottie, to be known as O, Canada.
Making nice with the friend worked, it got me introduced to O, Canada.

And I've been slightly giddy ever since. I can't stop smiling.

First it was the 'so' conversation-
Me: So...
O, Canada: So?
Me: So.
O, Canada: Soooo...

Then it was him leaning in and whispering, that I make him nervous.

And then the 'I'm interested' touching. You know, the hand on the thigh, back, or shoulder moves.

And the "you have beautiful eyes and you are gorgeous" that make me melt, because of the accent. Think Fargo with a bit more substance and of course, the Canadian "eh"

Finally it was us just staring at each other, no words, nothing, in a crowded bar. And his friend telling us that he is leaving us alone because we are making lovey eyes at each other. Sheesh, was he still with us?

Of course, the inevitable. The two Canadians were leaving the next day. Should I or shouldn't I, was the question.

I didn't. But I did go back to their hotel with them and O, Canada and I stayed up talking and kissing. And when I say I've never been kissed like that before, believe me, I think my lips were waiting for the Foreigner.

It was seriously, without a doubt, hands-down, the best kiss ever. Or kisses ever.
I just couldn't stop kissing him.

So why the heck does he live in Canada? Just my luck. Well he has my number, so we'll see, but I doubt we'll hear from him again.

Why is it that I can meet the best of them that don't live in my state?
I swear I need to create a tee shirt that says: Only Locals Need Apply.
I'd rock that each time I go to the bar. Then again, that would discourage the foreigners.

Crap.

Lucky Guy

I had to work Friday. Boo.

It was kind of nice, no one was in the office, so I had plenty of time to read/train myself on procedures. I also got to sit down and have get to know you conversations with a few of our buyers. We opened a new store and the opening was great, it was cool to witness the first day from a PR standpoint.

The best part was the absence of traffic--as you know most of the crazies were in line at Best Buy or Kohl's trying to get those deals, so there was no one on the road at 8am. It took me less than ten minutes to do my normal twenty five commute.

On the commute there are tons and tons of billboards.

From my past days at the Clear Channel maniacs, I learned how to really observe a billboard and its message/placement. I am really bad at making commentary while in the car over a poorly placed or ill-created billboard. Don't ask--some things just stick with you like glue.

Anyways...I saw a goody yesterday.

A black billboard, showcasing some man's hands holding about 3 or 4 giftcards. I cannot remember what the text said verbatim, but it read something like:
Get Him The Perfect Gift: A Gift Card from Silver City.

WTF?!?!

For those of you that don't know or didn't guess, Silver City is a strip club, or excuse me, a gentleman's club.

Maybe someone can explain this one: who is getting a guy a gift card for a titty bar?

Seriously the girl that gives her man one would need some sort of examination, right? Don't get me wrong, I see nothing wrong with a man going to a strip bar--single or coupled up.

I think this is where I got along great with a couple of ex-boyfriends. I am one of those women who don't care if my man goes to strip bars. I so don't care. I've been to some in my younger-look-at-me-I-can-hang-at-a-titty bar-with-the-boys days.
YEP. I did that. ONCE.
And I've been to one that entertains the ladies.
I think some are gross and there are some that are, well, sophisticated.

Anyways, I don't care (I'm also the one that doesn't care if he owns porn, but thats a different story)

But I wouldn't be that girl that gave my man a giftcard to go. Hell. No.
Ew.
And I wouldn't give it to my brother. Double ew.
And if I was a man, I wouldn't give one to another man for a gift--unless it was his bachelor party or something.

I'm puzzled. So I ask, who is giving what man a titty bar gift card? Who? Anyone?

OHHOLEYMOLEY!!

Madonna. Confessions Tour. NBC. TONIGHT!!!

Thank you, NBC Gods, Thank you.

I planned the night to catch up on all the blogs I read. You know, new job = no time to fool around online. Especially when you have to deal with snippity celebrity publicists & sexy man voice calling me from Conde Nast, more on him laters, because in case you didn't know: Madonna. Confessions Tour. NBC. TONIGHT!!!

Feel sorry for my neighbors because I will be singing along and dancing the fool tonight.

Sorry, I have to catch up tomorrow.

He Made it so Much Easier Done than Said

My biggest Holiday pet peeve is when people close to you, as in friends don't inquire what you are doing for the Holiday, especially since they know all your family lives elsewhere. Uhm hmm. That may just be me, but I think it is so rude. Now you know how that ties into my wee bit expectation of men in my life that claim they care...yeah. right.

Trombone made it so easy to be done with him. Please witness the conversation we had earlier today. Without Kate.

(I was returning his call)
Me: What's up?
Trombone: Nothing just watching TV
Me: Oh.
Trombone: What are you doing?
Me: Driving to Whole Foods
Trombone: What are you buying there? (okay--as if its not obvious, groceries. Honestly he could have not asked this question and his inevitable fate would have been extended a few more days because Kate was not on the line. But as fate would have it...)
Me: Pre-fixed dinners
Trombone: Which are you going to get?
Me: Turkey. Beans. Maybe mash potatoes.
Trombone: Those are for tomorrow.
Me: Yeah. That's what I'm doing. I'm getting them for my meal for tomorrow.
Trombone: Oh. What are your plans? (And let me add, this is the first time, ever, he has asked me this AND its the day before Thanksgiving. HELLO)
Me: Nothing. Lounge around, watch movies, heat up my pre-fixed dinner
Trombone: Oh, I need to take a nap.
Me: (CLICK)

OK. I didn't really hang up on him. I told him to have a nice nap and then hung up on him.

WTF?!? How do you have that conversation and not inquire about the why are you not spending it with anyone OR much less, extend a faux invite to me? I would have turned it down, but still you know a faux invite would've been nice, out of courtesy.

So he is so done. DUNZO.

And in other boytown news: (Not So) Incredible baked cookies and bought this month's Haper's Bazaar for me. They weren't delivered to my office, but (HELLO) he was not this great when we were dating, I can tell you that. He got me Harper's because the fabulous Jennifer Lopez is on the cover. And we all know how much I love her.
Something sneaky this way comes.

Why are exes all of a sudden too nice when they become exes? Why didn't he do this stuff when he was a boyfriend?!?!

MEN.

Maybe We Have Nothing Better To Do

Kate is coming up with some scripts for the single scene (a.k.a getting a date) and a couple date scripts.
Apparently she has nothing to do. And of course, I'll share with y'all because the way she was describing one to me had me snorting soup out of my nose.

And can I just let you know, I am totally loving the job. My biggest project last week was to book a high profile celebrity wife & plan a party with InStyle.

Uhm hmm...they didn't have anything to do with the other.

The hardest task was Celebrity Wife. You see, my boss gave me the challenge to book her but under one condition: she needs to kinda keep her mouth shut. You see, she's a very OUTSPOKEN woman. And I cannot blame her because honestly? if I was married to some celeb and people listened to me no matter what I was saying, you better believe people would be trying to shut me up in their stores, too.

HEE HEE.

So, it was fun! It was also ten times fun to speak to InStyle.

I've been subscribing to InStyle for more than 5 years, straight. I know that masthead pretty well. So to actually be speaking to one of the names that appear on the masthead---SUCH A BIG DEAL. I was so nervous. I couldn't believe I was speaking to InStyle!

I didn't speak to Celebrity Wife--just her peeps. So InStyle was a BIG deal. Lovin' it.

And for those of you wondering if I'm still on my (project)...YES, I am. Last week, I watched half a football game at a sports bar. SOLO. ALONE. BY MYSELF.

Can you believe it?

It was weird at first. But I gave myself a goal to stick it through for half a game. I ordered dinner there, so it was easier to be eating and watching the game solo. It made me look mysterious...so I think...hope.
But I didn't meet anyone, so it's 0-1 on the (project), but in its defense there were only two men alone at the bar and they didn't look like anything that I would go out with, so what can I do?

To the Left, to the Left

My friend, looking at you Kate, got this bright idea: to dump all the current men in our life before November 22.
Her reason was so that we could avoid all the disappointment that was sure to come in the next two months.

Sure, we don't have boyfriends...but since we are females, it is guaranteed that we'd still be disappointed and our expectations are still high.
I thought about it...hmm, I have 3 men to rid myself of. She has two.
I got Hotlanta, Trombone, and (Not So) Incredible.

Neither of them I want for a boyfriend but I still seem to be seeing each one in different capacities. She explained to me that no matter what happens somehow we will end up calling each other bitching about whichever one didn't do something of our expectations. And let's just admit this outright: Our expectations are very low. VERY LOW.

We're not expecting gifts from any of these fools. Not even cards.
But since the both of us live no where near our families and are basically alone around the Holidays...we expect the men, who claim they care for us, to acknowledge this fact and at least, the very least call us on the Holidays & Birthdays.
That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.
Especially since we go all out of our ways to make sure these boys in our lives have great random days, like a Tuesday or something.

We're the type of girls that call and say silly stuff like: "Have a great day" for no reason at all, just because. Go figure.
Do we get that back from them? HELL NO.

But we do expect it on the Holidays and Birthdays. It's such a small gesture, seriously, and you'd be surprised how many times we've been disappointed from this small expectation in the past--sometimes from the same men that still are in our lives. How they survive, who knows?

This year, we decided to cut them out. The goal is that our next real dates must come from people we have not met yet. You know. To be fair about it because we honestly hope that not all mankind are a disappointment to us around the Holidays and Birthdays. Seriously, people, just a phone call is all we want...shit, I'd accept a text message, she argues its still not enough, but hey we all have our own demands.

I kinda agreed. I can get rid of Hotlanta and NEED to get rid of Trombone. But (Not so) Incredible...eh, eh the cupcakes? Come. On. And we dated for two years, there was some serious shit that he got me through and I may be somewhat of a better person because of him, so I cannot cut him out. We agreed that I just had to let go of any expectation of him. Fair enough.

Then Kate raised the question: could we really cut this boys out for good? She doubted it and came up with a script for each of us to give each of them.
HELLO.
A break up script! I'm not joking. The girl took some serious time and wrote out a script. Complete with different scenarios--like if he said this, the script went in one direction versus if he said something else, it'd go in another direction.
I was game.

Then she raised another question and doubted that we would each follow our scripts. She thought that one of us would get sweet talked out of it. Especially since I have a sweet spot for Trombone because every time he calls me or vice versa--he ends up asking me to dinner. And (HELLO) who am I to turn down a dinner?

She made the rule that the other one of us would have to be on the phone in a 3-way conversation with each man. We would stay quiet and read along on the script, and if the other didn't follow the script or we could tell the dump was not gonna happen, the 3-way person (she or I) would have to interrupt the conversation and do the dumping for us.
Oh, my. I thought that would be easy. Then she put a 10 minute limit to the conversation. We had to get in, dump him, and get out in ten minutes.

Let me tell you...

I started laughing like a hyena on my first call to Hotlanta. Only because I knew she was on the line (and it kinda felt like 8th grade, you know when you got your friend to call your crush and get her to ask him what he thought about you, all the while you had to hold your breath on the 3-way'd line, so he didn't know you were on line. OMG--do kids still do that? Someone tell me they do, please. It'd be very nice to know that they do. It brings a certain kinda nostalgia, right?)

Back to this...

Hotlanta thought I was crazy and he was getting a wee bit upset over my uncontrollable laughter. I noticed I was coming in on the 8th minute and was not even halfway through my script. I had to make it quick because the sheer embarrassment of Kate interrupting and dumping him for me would kill me...can you imagine...wait, you don't have to, because guess what? IT so did happen.

Hotlanta: yada, yada, blah, blah (he was talking about some friend of his)
Me: hee hee hee hee, well I have something to tell you...hee hee, hee.
(9th minute)
Hotlanta: What's so funny?
Me: Well, see, uhm, well, eh. Hee, hee, hee, hee.
Hotlanta: Do you have something to tell me? What's wrong with you?
Me: hee hee hee hee
Hotlanta: Okay, what's going on with you?
(10th minute)
Kate, in the most stern operator like voice: I'm sorry but Golightly is trying to dump you. You see she likes you and doesn't feel like you will live up to her expectations for the Holidays and Birthday. Don't take it personal, seriously, she is just trying to start fresh. And you live in Atlanta, so seriously, did you think it'd go far?
Hotlanta: What the fuck?
Kate: Yep, that's what I said. So you have 30 seconds to say your goodbye.
Hotlanta: Who is this? Golightly?
Kate: You now have 25 seconds, don't make me countdown out loud, it'll only get in the way of your good-byes. Golightly? Tell him.

At this point, if it could get more immature than this, as it did. I just laughed my ass off for the next 20 seconds. And then Kate ended the call.

Amazingly, she dumped her two guys like a pro. Less than 3 minutes, each. I was impressed. She gave me until Sunday to get my shit together to dump Trombone or she'd call him herself, solo.

I think she should start a business and she reminded me that Shannen Doherty already does this, but she's going to look into it.

Yep this is what happens when two single girls are bored with the men in their life. We resort to elementary school like behavior. But, hey at least we won't be disappointed during the Holidays and the Birthdays.

Further Proof

Yesterday I learned what a flash drive is. And I felt like 100 years old.

Have you seen those things? They are teeny tiny and carry loads of stuff. I was impressed and it was so sad.

My assistant ordered me a lot of supplies and dropped them in my inbox. As I sorted through them, I came upon this lighter, so I thought. I played around with it for a while and noticed the USB port under the cap. Huh?

Does it go into the computer? For what?

I went and asked her what this gadget was---would you believe I thought it was something for my cell phone? I don't think that was a bad guess, but the look on her face...holy crap, did I feel old.

She explained it to me. I was so fascinated, I made her demonstrate.

Yeah.
Welcome to 2006, Golightly, and get used to the technology because women older than you are explaining a flash drive to your old ass.

Give It to Me Straight

What the heck is blogger beta?

The pros? The cons?

Seriously. Should I switch? Has everyone switched and its just me on same old blogger, now?

I didn't switch to yahoo!beta and now I feel my email gets clogged up as a result. Thats just me. I'm not too up to date on technology. Sad, yet true.

I don't iPod, I don't download music, I can barely use a digital camera, I don't have DVR/Tivo, and sometimes I hate the internet.

I like it simple. I like to buy my CDs. I like to record TV using my VCR and VHS tapes. I like to go to the Kodak kiosk and see my developed pictures. I like hand written notes rather than email.

Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong year...make that century. I'd fit in real well in the Victorian era. Probably too well if you ask me.

I'm what they call old fashioned.

Again, I ask what the heck is Blogger Beta?

Breakfast At (Job C)

WHOO HOO. My big time risk paid off. HALLELUJAH!

Are you ready? Really ready?

I interviewed at a very upscale jewelry store. The position is with their headquarters and the title is PR Project Manager. Meaning I plan events for this store: grand openings, trunk shows, charity & social events. I run everything from coordination to execution to evaluation of each event.

I'm talking like I got the job because I did! Clap for me!!

But you know me and some stress and drama came along with the ride. Being mostly the offer letter process from Job C's company.

Like I said I interviewed with them, but it was weeks ago--my first week with crappy Job A. Then I interviewed two more times and the last time the manager explained the offer process.
1. They make a pre-offer to you.
2. Then they run a credit/ background check.
3. Then they call your references.
4. Then they pass your offer letter to each VP of the company for them to sign off on it.
5. Then your hiring manager will review the signatures, make sure its all correct, and then sign it.
6. They send you the official offer letter for your acceptance.

She warned me that all this could take awhile, naturally. They did not of Job A's existence, so there was no rush or need for them to reply soon in my case because they assumed I could start right away.

You still with me?

The pre-offer was made to me. (yah!) But my manager was not going to be in town the week steps 2-6 were happening; so she warned me that I wouldn't see an offer letter until my start date that is if steps 2, 3, and 4 were a-okay.

Did I lose you?

In the midst of those steps, my status at Job A was miserable. My boss never showed to work, I was tooling around online all day, leaving work at 3pm, and basically doing what I've been doing at home the last 3 months without the entertainment of Oprah. So, why stay?

The gamble was that I quit my Job A before a final answer from Job C. RISKY. I was so scared. It was a risk that I don't recommend. But what could I do? Rot at Job A?
unh unh.

I was a complete nervous wreck until I saw the official offer letter today, day 1 at Job C.

And let me tell you, so worth it!
I think I found my lil Mecca with this company...besides the jewels (oh, my word!) the people were fantastic--they actually spoke to me!! and were energetic to meet me! and took me to lunch! and spoke to me...like really spoke to me.

You have no idea what a big deal that is, especially coming from Job A where I had to squeeze dry a 'hello' from those people. Seriously.

And this place is more like my peers (I think). At Job A I was the youngest by probably 10 years. No joke.
And not to sound shallow, but I saw killer cute shoes everywhere.
I work closely with the buyers--so all those girls were dressed to the trendy nines AND the best part:

The very very best part?

Desks scattered with diamonds, pearls, and precious stones/gems...OOH LA LA.

Holly Golightly was right:
"...the only thing that does any good is to jump in a cab and go to Tiffany's. Calms me down right away. The quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there. If I could find a real-life place that'd make me feel like Tiffany's, then - then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name!"

**FYI: I don't work at Tiffany's, just a high end jewelry store just like it, but seriously aren't diamonds just diamonds no matter where you are?

If I did iPod

I was way wrong, Oprah today is not full of behind the scenes that I was hoping for, but instead is about real issues and I don't Oprah when she is talking real shit. One, she always plays the role of the expert. I just cannot take it.

This weekend I received over 10 text messages from a Gay Pal in SA. All 10 of them dealing with one subject: What song shall I download in my new iPod Nano that I just weasled my dad into buying for me since I have no job and no motivation to get on or go back to school and want to live my life mooching off my parents forever? That was a long sentence so you could the whole story without me having to blog about it.

After the 3rd text asking me what song he should download, it got old news. I could care less.

There are a few songs I'm totally digging right now and if I had an iPod I wouldn't ask others for their opinion on what to fill it. You can be damn sure these would be on definite repeat:

Beyonce, Irreplacable. I love this song and some great one liners are in it. I love it when she asks for him to walk and talk at the same time.
Besides the 'to the left, to the left, to the left' is very catchy.

Speaking of catchy, I've had Gwen Stefani's Wind It Up in my head for the past week. The yodeling and the dance beat--love it. I am going to predict that this will be the gay anthem for the month of December. I can so see this being overplayed at gay clubs, everywhere.

Then there is Fergie. It annoyed me that it took me forever (well, too long) to figure out that they were spelling: T-A-S-T-Y and D-E-L-I-C-I-O-U-S. Once I figured it out, I finally could sing along and love the song. Lucky for whoever is in the room at the time.

Not only are these great songs, but the videos are fab too. I'm constantly watching them on youtube (that devil!)

Guess what?!? Tomorrow is Tuesday! I finally made it (I think), watch out, a whole new world for Golightly.

Shut Up & Sing

Thumbs up, without a doubt the best documentary I've seen. And let me tell you it takes a lot for me to watch a documentary. I'm always weary and aware that these things usually come packaged up one sided. Buuut, since I completely side with the Chicks on this issue of free speech, I just had to go watch.

I will tell you this if you were one of the people boycotting and burning their CDs, you may want to skip it.
If you're avoiding because you think it may be all about Bush-bashing, so not the case.
And never ever have I ever felt compelled to clap at the movie theater; but I found myself clapping, I believe twice. I wasn't the only one.

And it was HILARIOUS.

Best part of the movie...okay there were too many for me to share without recanting the entire thing to you guys.

But I do have to tell you one of the best parts is whenever the girls start discussing blow jobs as ways to get their husbands to take care of the kids and their houses.

And I am not going to get all political here. But I do believe in the freedom of speech. And think that if you don't like what someone is saying, turn off your television, don't listen to them.
If you don't like it; then don't you do it.

What made me so upset is when an X-fan of the Chicks interviewed said: I believe in freedom of speech, just don't say something like that in a foreign country and don't say anything in public.

What? The? Seriously.

But it wasn't all about what Natalie said. The cameras followed them in creating their next albums, the tour, and their home life. And can I tell you how presh their babies are. They take them everywhere and during their break it was Halloween and they had on some cu-ute costumes.

Go see it if you can & want and don't live in San Antonio

*Ironically enough there are more shout outs to San Antonio, and its local country stations than anything else in this film. I'm a wee bit confused why they are not showing it, for Beverly.

Takalicious

I have an unusual name. It's also long. 7 letters, 3 syllables lends to people wanting to shorten it in all sorts of concoctions. It amazes me what people come up with.

In high school this one boy called me Teriyaki. My name is no where near Asian or sounds like that. A girl liked to call me Chiquita. It's a wee bit closer.

My dad used to call me Tak. A high school friend caught on to it and has called me that since. I used to dislike it, but its grown on me so much I sometimes sign off emails: Tak.

But nobody has even veered into the most logical: Kia.
A few have made the joke, Kia Sephia.

Nowadays, in the aftermath of J.Lo, a couple of friends call me T. (My last name)
My last name is one syllable so it kinda works. It kinda gets on my nerves.

But how do you tell people that the nickname they invented for you is not to your liking?

My grandmother called me Tiki. Not close either and I never knew why she did. A few years ago I met someone and they immediately wanted to call me that...huh.

The origin of my name is kind of sketchy. My mother will tell you its Swahili. Any name book will tell you its Hebrew. A Senior Partner at the Law Firm told me it was both. He told me a story of how way way back in the day, Jewish people took a boat and settled in some islands or a coast of Africa. I'm fuzzy on the story because it took him over an hour to tell it and I lost interest.

I can always tell who is Jewish as soon I'm introduced---they are the only ones that can pronounce my name properly after first hearing it or seeing it.
It has many Jewish meanings and a Arabic one, I found that out this past Summer.

Even with all this history its still hard for people to think of a good short cut to saying my name. It's not that hard to wrap your tongue around.

Now there are a few editions out there:
T
Tak (and Tacky)
T (Last name)
Monk (my mom sometimes calls me that b/c when my brother was young he could never say my name so he said Monk whenever referring to me?!?!)
TB (my initials)
TCB (my full initials)
Choco-latte (a coworker started this one and a friend adapted it)
Char (my name has a hyphenated other name to it, and this is the shorter version of that name)
Ho-ho ( (Not So) Incredible calls me this one because I like to call people ding dong if they do something ding dongish)


There you have it. I wish I had a cool nickname or something more interesting to write about ;)

Today's Horoscope

We can blame the stars (and not Bev) if at all goes to shit.

It's time to free yourself of old expectations and stale situations that are more trouble than they're worth. Letting go of the past can be difficult, but it's one of the most rewarding tasks you can take on.

Hmm.

In other news: 'Shut Up & Sing' opens nationwide today, WHOO HOO. I cannot wait to catch this documentary. Maybe there will be cute shoes. Just kidding. It's received tremendous reviews. I've never watched a documentary in a theater, I always save those for HBO or renting. Hopefully this weekend I'll be able to catch it. And maybe it'll be my solo (project) out: lunch and a movie, solo? Can I do it...huh, we'll see.

TGIF!

What Did I Do?!?!

OK. I just did something really risky. Beyond risky. Like putting ALL my eggs in a basket, risky.

As in biting my nails-HOLY FUCK-did I just risk my job & paycheck?!?! Risky.

Fo'real.

EEEK.

It's out there and not coming back.

Ohhhhhhhhh...

Cross your fingers for me, Internet. And keep them crossed until Tuesday-like midday Tuesday*.

The good side is Monday's Oprah will be a treat. It's a behind the scenes/ what you don't know happens in the Harpo offices episode. I LOVE those.
I do.
It is a guarantee that there will be one scene featuring Ms. Winfrey minus the make-up.
And I love love love love me, some make-up less Oprah. It is the definitive 180 of that woman.
And I love that she don't care, she is Oprah. Me? I'm swiping on blush and lipgloss to run to the mailbox. Seriously.
Her? Bright camera lights, full on Oprah's unmade face, for everyone to see.

Love it.

Today's oh holey fuck risky move may be worth it. Maybe.

But still...keep your fingers crossed for me.

* I promise to then, share with y'all what the heck it is that I'm blogging about.

Cupcakes After & Before Breakfast

Yesterday someone made me cupcakes. It was the most unexpected surprise ever. Someone made me cupcakes?!? Then delivered them to me, holey moley.

The thought would never cross my mind for someone to do that, for me. It’s so something that I would do.

I haven’t because I know how to learn my lesson when nobody replies to a text message—but maybe if I was delivering those cupcakes, it’d been better received?

Nevermind that now because someone baked and delivered cupcakes to me!!

And are you ready for the baker? (Not So) Incredible. Uhm hmm.
I’m not yet over the shock, just yet.

But let’s review. He baked lemon cupcakes with lemon icing; both from a box and can. I am shocked that he owns a muffin baking pan! He used football themed cupcake liners. Just so typical of him. Those are not found in my regular grocer. He iced them (but did so before they cooled completely which now makes for a slippery mess when they are biten into) and put them in a yellow colored box with a yellow color card that read: Cheer up with a sunny cupcake.

What? The?

All that aside; a boy made me cupcakes. A boy making cupcakes boggles me. Just picturing him frosting cupcakes cracks me up. They are a bit on the sweet side, hey, they came from a box. But they aren’t burnt. SHOCKER!

Don't be shocked that I'm only drinking water today because here is the rundown of what I ate yesterday:

Cupcakes: 8 (all at work)
Eggs, scrambled: 3
Pancakes with syrup: 3
Hashbrowns: A LOT
Homemade mimosa; which were slightly more champagne than orange juice: 4
**Please note that all the breakfast items were consumed for dinner
Cupcakes: 3 (at home)

oh yeah, I'm fasting like its a religious cause today. No joke.

Monkey See. Monkey Do?!?

You know how when you hang around someone long enough you start to adapt a few of their traits. Such as; facial expressions; slang; mannerisms; handwriting; or style. Usually when I adapt someone else’s traits; I like that person. Maybe, even admire that person.

These past few weeks, I’ve been taking note of everything work related. I create files for every project. I produce a researched cheat sheet for all contacts. All pricing that I have gathered goes into a nice little table grid, for easy comparison. Items are printed off like crazy. I have a folder for everything. My Outlook calendar is full of everything’s due date and action plan; personal and work. My handwriting doesn’t look like my own.

It looks exactly like my Boss’ from the firm.

Holey Moley. Say it isn’t so. It is.

Not the one Boss that I despised—the one that set me up. No, not her. The other.

The one that was extremely meticulous about her schedule. The one that scolded me because she had to book her own flight. The one I liked at the very beginning and miss every now and again. How is that? How is that I had so much divergence with her; but now she has rubbed off on me? Don’t get it twisted.

I was very organized before, I had my own systems. Granted it didn’t include writing every little thing down on note paper or bright pink post its allover my desk. But it worked for me. It didn’t work for the law firm.

That woman had a file for everything. Her children’s’ homework was in a file; as was their artwork. She had a file for every receipt—expensed or not. She had the teeniest info imported into her Outlook calendar from her personal lunches to 5Am yoga classes to reminders to call her friends. Don’t get me started on her contacts.

Each contact had a note for all of them. Some I found hilarious.
I remember, “the woman talks too much about her dog” and “red hair, blue eyes, but too old for me”. I wasn’t snooping; we all had open access to each other’s Outlook calendars and contacts.

I didn’t put notes in mine—sheesh, but if I did they would look something familiar and shallow as “red hair, blue eyes” but knowing me, I’d add “just the right age for me”. Boss was 36 years old.
Her personal life was a mess, not as bad as my current boss’. But Law Firm Boss had her mess together and organized.

It’s funny, that as I sit here looking for something to do, I look around my desk—at all the post it notes; the files; the note taking; the overly organized Outlook and it hit me. As much as they thought that I sucked and as much as I thought being fired was the worst thing ever, I learned something from her. Organization. As anal as it is, her system has unconsciously crept in and taken over.
And I am not ashamed to admit: it works.

Kicking and Screaming and Sleepless

I've been awake since 4am. I think I've slept for maybe, two hours?!?

I've got two major things on my brain: Other opportunities and how the Hell can I get out of my current job situation?

I don't think I'll last til Christmas at the new office with Job A.
And I'm not being a baby or whining about it one bit. I am sure if you were where I am, you'd be kicking and screaming, too.

I'm like the kid that is holding onto the minivan door for dear life, screaming that I don't wanna go in; kicking their mom to let go of them because you can't make me go in there. Well...

Each day is a task to go to that place. I don't know what to expect. I keep thinking, ooh today is the day it'll (or my Boss) will change.

No such luck.

Sleepless, I'm trying to plot how to get out of there.

Looking for a job while you are new at another job is no easy task. Luckily nobody notices me here and I think I can get away for two hours.

I'd rather live in Phoenix than work here. Seriously.

On the other hand, I'm waiting for some news to come through--which I highly doubt will be in my favor. Why the pessimism? Because I've been there and done it before, so I don't know why its going to work for me the second time around. AS soon as I hear something I'll let you guys know instead of speaking insomniac riddles.

Last night, I actually laid down a plan with my mom. A plan to move to Phoenix if I am still with Job A come January 1, 2007.

That's how bad it is. Phoenix could be my other choice and I'm initiating it? Oh, no.

While sleepless in bed, I thought of many plans and exit strategies.

The main reason I am not all up in Job A is my Boss. She has some serious issues and drama in her life, right now.

Each day the woman comes into work (at whatever time) closes her office door, pops some pills, prays on her rosary, prays on a pray card, and cries.
No joke.
She told me this.
She also told me that she is so happy I am there to 'help out' because she cannot work these days. It's been like this since Day 1.

If it's not her. Its the coworkers. They don't speak to me. I'm all cheers and smiles coming into the office each morning and I get nothing back from any of them.
My cubicle is in a high traffic zone--you must pass me to get to the annoyingly loud circa 1980 printer. So I see at least everyone once a day, well twice for their walk back from the printer--and no 'hello', 'morning', 'hey'. Nada.

It may be because I was never formally introduced to any of them. Boss is never here and she for sure never took the time to ween me in. Who knows?

So I lay awake, debating how I got myself here. And there is nothing I could do about it.
It was a paycheck versus no paycheck situation. The bills were not paying themselves. Money doesn't grow on any tree I know of. And if the unemployment peeps found out I turned down a job, the checks could stop coming.

People tell me to get over it. It's a job. When does that become an excuse to endure something that you absolutely hate?
Do people tell couples, hey it's a marriage, so stop your whining. Do they?
Do people tell parents, it's a kid. Shut up. Huh?
Do people tell kids, it's school, so stop your kicking and screaming because you are going in...
well, that may happen.

Can I just rent a man for the rest of the year? Seriously.

I am not looking for a boyfriend. Let's get that correct. But--it's my opinion that men tend to shy away from getting too deep into relationships this time of year.
You know. Because of the gifts and the obligatory family time. You know--if he doesn't ask you to meet or be with the family this time of year, where are you headed as a couple? And if he starts to date you now, do you expect a gift and what does that gift say about him and/or how he feels about you.

But I think I could rent one for the season, no?

Not an escort. I don't want to kiss or hook up with anyone. If it happens, it happens. But I'm looking for that, lack of a better word: escort to get me through the social gatherings.

For anything, to avoid these questions:
"Are you single for the Holidays?"
"Not seeing anyone special this year?"
"Did you come alone?"
"What are you going to do on New Years?"
"No special gifts this year, huh?"
"What happened to that guy you were dating?"
"Is it that hard to meet men?"

Come. On.

I figure if I have a male counterpart/ date with me, these questions won't be asked.

Another reason to rent a man this season--the cuddling when its cold out. The squish of bundling into the Starbucks booth. The warmth of a shared coat over your shoulders. The mistletoe?

But I don't need to kiss him.

Just drag him around town when needed. Especially shopping for gifts at the mall. How freaking cute do those couples look? Sweaters, corduroys, and checking off the joint gift list. If they weren't so cute, I'd hate them.

I'm not bitter. Don't get it twisted.

Honestly I think its best to fall for someone new in the Spring. You know. Without the pressure of do I or don't I have to get him a gift?
I call off all bets of any hope of getting into a relationship between now and New Years. All single people know, that is prime time to just meet and hook up. No expectations. You don't want to be saddled down by New Years...do you?

But if I could rent a guy, the pressure would be off. And I could enjoy my holiday soirees. Minus the questions.

Remember Job A?

My Secret is…I’ve been with Job A for three weeks.

I haven’t really shared that with anyone, don’t feel left out Internet. It took me a week to tell my friends. You’d think after all the time that I was sitting around at home unemployed, I’d be jumping for joy over it. Not so much.
That feeling that I had a month ago about it, versus Job B was still strong and in full effect. But then I reasoned that I was in no position to turn down a paycheck. I took Job A.

Job A is very different from the law firm. Well, I don’t know that many places like the firm.

My first day at Job A was quite the adventure and comical to say the least.

One, my new boss showed up after lunch. Meaning that I spent the morning hours, after the W-2 forms spinning around on my chair at my desk. A desk with no computer, no phone, nothing. And let me add, how manager rushed me into accepting an offer because the office management needed a week to set up my desk. So I sat for about three hours staring out the window.

A funny thing happened on the way to the empty desk, when I first arrived to the office, I was greeted by the HR manager. She pulled me to her cubicle, opened a drawer, pulled out a plastic cup with lid, and gave it to me. “You have to do this now before we can officially fill out any paperwork. Can you do it?”

I looked at the cup, looked at her, looked back at the cup, and back at her. “It’s 8am and I don’t really have to pee; but okay” She led me to hall and pointed towards the rest room, “When you’re finished, bring it back to me. If you get lost, ask the receptionist.” The bathroom is located on the other end of the office. She didn’t give me a brown paper bag or anything.

Kind of confused, I went into the stall, and tried with all my might to pee. Jumped up and down, squeezed my belly, pushed with all my might from my uterus. I didn’t quite make it to the ‘fill’ line. What could I do? I went to the bathroom only twenty minutes ago before leaving my apartment. T

hen there was the walk back to the HR manager’s cubicle. Hmm…how do I do this discretely? I wrapped the cup with tons of toilet paper, the cup was warm, and I carefully walked back to her with it. How do you do the pass off with a cup of pee? I left it on her desk.

She put on a pair of latex gloves, took out a litmus strip test thingy, unwrapped my present, and went “Oh”. Yeah, lady there is no way that I can give you a full bladder of pee first thing in the morning. She placed the paper strips in the cup, and since I was not all at the ‘fill’ line; she had to tip the pee cup almost a full 180 degrees; so that the liquid could touch the papers. Co-workers were walking by like nobody’s business.

We sat there in silence, as she held my pee, for what seemed forever. Eventually the strips turned blue (a good sign) and she put the cup o’ pee in a baggie; then discharged it in her desk trash can. What? The? What kind of crazy is this place? Have you ever? I know companies give out drug test, and I’ve done my fair share of them prior to getting offers for employment. Each and every one of those happened off site, at a clinic. Not all willy nilly at someone’s desk. Ewwwww.

That is just a tip of the iceberg in what I have been dealing with these past three weeks. There is much more scarier drama than peeing in a cup, I’m not 100% on whether I will share it or not; but I will let you know this: I’ve been here three weeks, my boss has been here 8 of the 15 days I’ve been employed at Job A. 8 days!

For seven days I’ve been staring out my window (the Starbucks across the street leads to some interesting day dreaming); chatting on email; re-writing a newsletter (which has already been to print); searching for another job; taking two hour lunches (because nobody notices me here); leaving an hour early to catch Oprah; scheduling meetings with vendors (my Boss doesn’t want to attend); and basically trying to stay awake and look busy.

But hey, at least I’m getting paid and I’m drug-free.

Unsociable Party Pooper

It was my friend's birthday on Tuesday, Halloween. Let's call her B-day.

We all went to a fancy restaurant to celebrate. The average plate cost is $35. I had beef tenderloin, two glasses of wine, and my own dessert. We shared appetizers and there was a shared dessert, but it contained peanut butter, so I was out. My share of the bill was $50.

I didn't mind. It was her birthday. I'm positive (!?!) that she'd do the same on my own birthday. Birthdays come and go, its what you do as a friend. You find a way to celebrate their special day with them. If I couldn't afford the $50, I would have settled on just a salad or meeting them for dessert after their meal (keep that in the back your head for a minute)

So happy birthday, B-day!

Wednesday, I received an email from B-day where she wanted to get together a large group of people to celebrate things that have happened over the past few months. Someone got engaged. Someone was pregnant. Someone got a job. And, yes B-day's birthday.
No big deal: there was only 4 people present at her dinner versus the twenty-odd people on this email.
And it was something to celebrate on Saturday night.
I replied that I was in.

Friday, I learn it will be a dinner. OK.
I later learn it's a dinner at another fancier restaurant. I don't know what the average plate cost is at this certain place; but I can tell you, the last time I ate there on a date it was $80 with a $25 gift card applied to the tab; and no alcohol consumed. For two people.

Let me tell you, I wouldn't have a problem with this if I hadn't already dropped $50 earlier in the week. I love food, I don't mind paying a higher dollar for good food made by the best chefs.
But as I like to plan my week; I don't spend high dollar more than once a week. I think that's fair.

I call B-day and ask her if we'll also be going out later that night after dinner. She said yes. I told her that I'd meet them later in the dinner course for dessert and going out after. She was a wee bit disappointed. Oh, well the reservation was set for 17 people. Me not being there, shouldn't be a big deal.

I reasoned Ramen noodles on a Saturday night would work in exchange that I'd spend the money on dessert and drinks. Reasonable? Yes.
I was looking forward to it.

Their reservation was for 7:45, I thought it'd be safe to show up at 8:45.

I put on a dress, applied smoky eye makeup, put on my best heels, and walked to the restaurant. (The place is 2 blocks from me)

When I go there, they had just ordered. Oy. I had to sit through people asking me why I didn't order anything and then, them eating. I ordered my dessert when they were half-way through the meal. And I had one glass of riesling.

The bill came at 10:15. With 20 people at a table, it took quite some time to sort out who owed what and whose credit card was being put in. (the restaurant has a rule that they will only split the bill between 4 credit cards, max.)

I put in $20. I overpaid. It's the cost of dining with large groups.

Then they sang 'happy birthday' to B-day. Yah! But then there was no mention of the other people we were celebrating (hmm...) and Preggers, Newly Engaged, and New Job were at the table. Oh, well.

B-day then announced where we were going next. I nearly swiped by $20 back from the tab envelope. We were headed to a very posh hotel lounge bar. Drinks $15 - $20. I very much doubt they have $2 longnecks. I doubt they have beer. Period.

Was it wrong that I had to bow out? Did I do the wrong thing? Am I the party pooper?

I was very much looking forward to hitting the town. I put on a dress! And smoky eye makeup! Oh, and I took a shower. I could have stayed in. I could have saved my $20 dessert/wine overpaid bill. If I knew, the plan was for a swank Saturday night, I would have forfeited ever going to that restaurant for a dessert, I would have just met them at the hotel for the swanky drinks after.

I felt bad that I had to leave. It made me look bad. Here, the one that joined mid-dinner is also leaving pre-bar?

Party-pooper, that's me.

Ham or Eggs?!?

Can someone please explain that to me like I am a 5 year old?

I didn't get it. Not one bit. How did the egg or ham turn into a chicken and committed pig?

I either wasn't listening or reading the captions properly, and the guy kind of went through the theory really fast. I tried to re-watch the free abc.com episode; but no closed captions online.

Pretty please? with some eggs on top of the ham, please?

Other than that, how great was last night's episode?

Two Uteruses? Holey moley. I can barely withstand the one that I have, let alone two. Does that mean she has 4 ovaries? Double the period?

And McSister was a McDrag but I gave her (and the writers) props for that line: "Doesn't everyone do Mark? It's like a rite of passage"

SEND HIM OVER HERE! I need that step in my life. Pronto.

Poor Christina, it was the first time I really felt for her. I can so see this whole Burke mess hitting the fan in a big way. Knowing the show; they'll probably stretch it out awhile and Christina/Burke will become the Izzy/Denny climax of last year. Forcing one of them out the hospital or program.
(And OMGosh, was that just me, mentioning Denny's name?!? Ugh...)

Let's go back to the beginning of the night: Ugly Betty is officially my TV hero.
Hilarious. Polka dots. Herbalux. Debbie Mazar.
Salma Hayek: was it just me, or was her character and her lines funnier because of Salma's accent?

I love that the show finally picked up and found it's way, and that I didn't give up on it.

So what does that make me, ham or eggs?

Hmm...

Would it be so bad, if I made a bowl of buttercream frosting and just ate that for dinner?

Would it?

Really?

The fact that I am contemplating this is crazy. But I do have the ingredients and I definitely have the craving to just lick the spoon and bowl.

Love It or Hate It

When I speak to most people about their jobs: the response is a 'love it' or 'hate it' answer. It's more along the lines of dislike.

It is very rare that I meet someone or know of anyone that truly loves their job and what they do. No matter the hours, the pay, co-workers, the commute, the Boss, any of it: genuine love.

Last night I met such a person.

Granted, she works for a huge national high end department store where she gets to meet local celebrities and high end clients; plan fashion shows & events; meet designers; and has a great schedule.

She didn't want this job. She had a very good job at a competing store. Then the calls came and they were tempting. The recruiter never gave up. Salary raised in the offer, benefits included. She still refused. You know what changed her mind: an office. Her own office space. I can relate, who doesn't want their own office?
But her office, now, is a behind the scene supply room, crowded with files, shipment, and samples. Her desk is a teeny tiny drafting table. But it's hers and only hers.

She told me that she cannot wait to get back to work the next day. Huh?!?!
She wakes up early to beat certain people in, so she can have peace and quiet, to do her work. Eww?!?
She constantly thinks how she can better her department and any events coming up. Interesting?!?
She told me that she never thought she could be truthfully happy with a job, the way she is now.

(can you tell I was allover interviewing her, when she wasn't even the guest of honor? I quizzed her down and got the scoop)

I WANT that!

Is that too much to ask? I want a job where I am excited that I'm excited to drive to each day, despite the traffic. I want a job where I feel good to think of it while off the clock. I want to be appreciated somewhere for my talents and my input.

I don't want to dread early hours or overtime. I want to like my co-workers/peers and bounce ideas with them/ the team. I don't want to hit the snooze and whine about getting up for work. I don't want to stare at the clock and moan, that its only 2pm?!? I want to open my in-box with enthusiasm: 'who wants my service', 'who replied back', 'who can I answer?' not 'ugh, her, again?' or forward it on because I don't want to deal with it.

Something that you can be proud of. Something you can smile at and say; I do this and I love it. No exceptions.

As much energy that you can put into an interview, whether you're hired or not, is it the same energy you put into a job each day? I want to...