Boo.

Happy Halloween, everybody.  And what are you all doing to celebrate this great holiday?  Are you reading this right now from your desk at work, where you are at business as usual, only in costume?  No?

Well, I am.  Did anyone watch The Office last night?  You know how Pam was the only one that was dressed up in her office?  Well, that is me today.  Except I was quite sure that I nobody would be dressing up - it's just not that kind of office environment.  In fact, I first asked my boss what she was coming in as today as a joke, because it is SO not that kind of office environment.  And then, it gradually became a good idea to dress up myself.  I am my boss lady.  I am her on the day she claimed not to be able to work all day, because she had to get her eyes dilated and her eyes are "really sensitive."  So I'm wearing a suit (she's the only one here who ever wears a suit - she's big into "dress for the job you want, not the job you have"), a blonde wig, and dark sunglasses.  Unfortunately, my claim of not being able to work today on account of my eyes didn't get me the day off.  Oh well. 

 

I have a photo of the two of us together, and maybe I'll post it later.  She pointed out to me that I am REALLY NOT a blonde.  Yeah, I didn't need putting on a wig to tell me this.  I can't wear yellow.  I put on a yellow t-shirt and this horrible jaundice-skin transformation takes place.  So, even though she's casual today for Friday, in the photo she still looks tall and glamorous, and I still look short and dowdy.  Not fair.

 

I need to call the lab and ask about Vienna Sausage Lady's costume this year... if I haven't talked about that, maybe it's time for some photos.... VSL loves herself some science-puns halloween costumes.  She takes them quite seriously.

 

Also in honor of Halloween, my friend, who wishes to remain anonymous, has sent me some musings of his and asked that they appear here so he can be a ghost writer.  (Maybe that is his Halloween costume?)  When I asked what name he wanted, he said "either DJ Jazzy Jeff or William Howard Taft.  Pick one."  So I am going with DJ Tanner.  You can call him Deej.

 

And here are some random, random thoughts from DJ:

 

Mustaches- Seriously, what is the deal with the mustache?  Have you seen these things?  Now the beard, I understand the beard.  If done properly the beard can be cool.  But under no circumstances is the mustache cool (with the exception of former A's relief pitcher Rollie Fingers (google rollie fingers and you will understand why).  Do something for me, the next time you see someone with a mustache, stare at it (but be discrete).  And ask yourself, how does this person eat an ice cream cone or drink anything?  Screw the economy, Iraq or this whole energy independence thing….we need to deal with this mustache crisis, now.  More and more people are doing it these days and before you know it will be cool to have a mustache.

Garage/Yard Sale Signs – So we know who puts these signs out everywhere, it's obviously the person or people holding the garage sale.  You've see them everywhere, miles and miles of yard sale and garage sale signs.  But there's one thing that troubles me….who takes these signs down after the sale?  It's clearly not the holder(s) of the yard sale…why would they go through the trouble…they have already profited from a weekend of selling old records no one wants, outdated chinaware and badminton sets (that oh yeah, no contains the ever so critical net).   So who the hell is taking down the signs….is it the people preparing for the upcoming weekend of yard sales? Is there some underground department of sanitary works that removes these signs?  Are these underground sanitary workers invisible (do they already have this technology?)  Is there a garage/yard sale fairy (similar to the tooth fairy or Easter bunny) that removes them?  I'm not sure but from this point on I am going to make it my life's mission to find out whom and report back to the curious public.

Pizza That is Cut Into Square Pieces Instead of Pie Pieces – Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy pizza that is cut into squares. I love those corner pieces especially and all the outer pieces are fabulous.  You've got that outer crust to hold onto while you're eating.  But what pieces get eaten last?  It's those center pieces and not because they are in the center, if eaten correctly the center of this type of cut pizza should be exposed early in the game.  But the center pieces do not have a crust to hold and are typically eaten as a last resort (once all the outer pieces are gone).  So my question is, why doesn't anyone design a pizza that can be cut into squares but still providing each piece with a portion of crust to hold while eating.  The portion size of the square sliced piece is bar far ideal to the pie piece style.  Dominos, Pizza Hut, Little Ceasars Little Ceasars, come on guys, you are multi-million dollar pizza corporations, give us a solution gives a square sliced pizza we deserve.
 
Titlemax – Now I am not sure if this company is only local to Atlanta but I am sure there are similar types of stores throughout the country.  As the commercial goes, I got my title back with TitleMax. Let me tell you, if you are employing the services of Titlemax to get some fast cash then forget about.  Now the ad should read something like this, My credit and financial shortcomings are even more fucked up, thanks TitleMax for that low low 30% interest loan. 

 

Upcoming topics....
American Cheese
Ketchup vs. Catsup
The Flashing Yellow Light (when the stop light is out)...

 

Venus and Mars

I don't know why, but the memory of this little conversation popped into my head recently:

The scene: Irish pub on St. Patrick's Day.
The players: myself, Lob, guy we're friends with, other guy we're just beginning to be friends with, and a bunch of their boys whom we don't know at all.

The topic of conversation: guessing a woman's age

 

Our friend had been explaining to Lob and myself that he can tell any woman's age just by looking at her legs.  We were not as confident in his abilities as he was himself.  I remember insisting that my legs looked no different than they had 10 years earlier.  (That is no longer the case.  Sigh.)

Anyway, I spin off to talk to New Friend, Jay, and maybe it was the St. Patty's beer, but we were still on the age thing and how old people look, and blah, blah, blah.  For whatever reason, I turned to his friend, one of the guys I did not know, and asked (because he was standing apart from us, hadn't heard what were talking about, and didn't know how old I was):

"How old do you think I am?"*

his response?  After a split second of sizing me up:

"A little quiet, but a freak in bed."

me: blink, blink, mouth drops open, "uh.... (blink) ... how... old ... do you think.... I am...?"

him: "Oh.  I thought you said, 'How do you think I am.'  The quiet ones are always freaks in bed."

 

Yes, because that would be a completely natural question that I regularly ask people I've just met.  The part that I find most fascinating is not only how what (he thought) I asked did not phase him at all, but also that he was so immediately ready with a response.

 

These were two different worlds we were coming from.

 

*This took place around 5 years ago - I would never ask this question now, as it would greatly increase the likelihood of me having to state my age.

 

 

Blay's Blog

Over on the left panel there I have a list of other blogs that I sometimes read (or have read, that might need to be updated now that I think about it), and I got to make a change to it recently. I now have it divided into two categories - for sites of friends and sites of strangers. Thanks to my friend Blay (who has written for me here and here), I now know two whole people with blogs, enabling an entire category! It seems that in between raising her daughter and finding cures for diseases, Blay doesn't have much time to chat with friends, so she's keeping us updated on her family via a blog. I was thrilled with this news, and not just because I get more of a peak into Blay's life, but because this makes me less of a freak! Up until now, I've had no friends with blogs, and am always embarrassed to admit to mine. I mean, there was my little brother, but he hardly counts, being a nerd and all. Blay's only a closet nerd.

So, if you are one of Blay's friends and you are reading this, then you are probably Lob, and already know about this anyway. But if you just want to see a cute kid, there's one over there under the Cutcliffe Family link.

Now I've got work to do. Boo.

little things that happen to me

Lob and I have this friend from our youth that we grew out of touch with a long time ago. How do I describe her? Let's just say that her social awareness is not exactly up to adult level. If I ever get really bold, I will tell you about one of the longest weekends of my life - being a bridesmaid in her wedding. And how I will forever be bonded to my fellow bridesmaids - like those who suffered through a war together in the same ditch.

Our meetings since the wedding have been sparse, but recently Lob and I celebrated her birthday with her. This girl carries around a bag of crap with her everywhere she goes. The day I was supposed to driver her up to her wedding, I couldn't get her into the car, or to pack the things she actually needed, because she was too busy collecting crap from the closets of her parents' house. When I put my foot down about the bags of crap in my car (there were 4 of us, and I have a small car), she hid her things under the seats, in the glove compartment, anywhere she could find. I got rid of most of them, but I was finding particularly well hidden things for weeks afterwards. The thing is, she likes to give gifts away. She sees crap and things, "Bob would like this! I will give it to him!" It should be endearing. When I have not spent 8 hours of my vacation trying to coax her into my car, I can remember that.

So at her birthday she was carrying around a big canvas bag o' crap. She had so many gifts for Lob, that a grocery bag had to be found for her to carry them home. This was mostly because Lob has two little boys, and our old friend had plenty of toys for them. Colorful fish soaps, what else Lob? I don't remember - I just know Lob got showered. Well, at the end of the night, as Log and I were trying to leave, she suddenly remembered how she had something for me, too. But it was hard to find in her large bag of crap, so there was much anticipation as she searched. She kept saying, "Wait, Jennifer! Wait! I have something for you! It's perfect for you! I saw it and I thought of you! Wait... it's just for you!!" And at last she pulled something out of her bag, and this is what it was:



"If you can't get a date, grow the perfect mate."
She read that, and out of all the people in the world, she thought of me. Lob walked up and saw it and guffawed. (That wasn't very nice, Lob. She was trying to be thoughtful!)
And here's the back, in cased you wanted more:



does this sound a little... disturbing?

Another small example my typical luck:

This past weekend I was at a music venue to see a band. As soon as I walked in, the guy I was with ran into someone he knew, and while they caught up, I went upstairs to the bathroom. When I came back down, I couldn't find him where I had left him in the foyer. So after looking around the main room, I headed back to the outer hallway where a bunch of folks were standing around talking. On the other side of the open doorway I needed to walk through was one of the largest men I had ever seen. Tall and big. LARGE. So I attempted to slide by near the far side of the doorway, but at the same time, this man was telling a story to two friends that necessitated some violent hand gestures. He flung and arm back, and I took a back-slap right across the cheek bone. (And that stung, too!) It was hard enough to knock me back against the door frame. The guy (who turned out to be the bassist for the opening band), immediately realized what he had done, whipped around towards me and said, "I'm sorry baby-" - he didn't quite finish his sentence. He turned around so fast, he lost his balance. So one second I've been slapped up against a door-frame, and the next I see this incredibly large man start stumbling, waving his arms frantically around, and finally, tilting, and leaning, faster and faster, towards me. Meanwhile, I stayed crouched and frozen where I had fallen against the doorway, watching it in slow motion. But the scariest part was the expressions on his friends' faces. Because although I know all this happened very quickly, I saw all. I saw him falling, slowly, and I saw also, the very panicked faces of the two men near him, and how they jumped forward to try to catch him. But I knew they were too far away.
And just before he fell on me, I looked up and saw my friend I had been looking for in the first place. Because at this point, all heads had turned.

His friends pulled him off, and I didn't get crushed. The knuckles across the cheek was definitely the worst part of it.

As my friend said, "Of all the people that could have fallen on you, you go and find - by far - the largest one."
This is what I do, people.

All work and no play...

makes me complain.

 

When you are overwhelmed with tasks to do at work, and know you will be staying up late into the night hunched over your computer (again), and maybe also you are really tired because you went to a wedding the weekend before and maybe you kind of stayed up all night because you were in a University town and needed to reconnect with your college self (hey - sometimes these things can't be helped!) you know what words you really do not want to hear accompanied by the footsteps in the hall that are approaching your office??

 

"... and if we can teach Jennifer to do these, that would take A LOT of the load off you!!"

 

In typical me style, I tried to keep looking at my computer and pretend they weren't there.  I guess I thought maybe they'd go away, and I wouldn't have to learn about whatever A LOT of load they were talking about.  It didn't work.

When I did turn around, I found two very happy looking men.  Damn them.

My job description just keeps on a'growin'.

 

Also, I think I may start keeping track of how many times I email someone with a very specific "did you want (this) or (this)?" question spelled out for them (I mean, multiple choice - I'm making it easy!) and they email back this answer:  "Yes."

And I thought the scientists were poor communicators.  Sheesh.

 

 

I am completely in favor of the 4 day work week, in case anyone was wondering

So far this morning I have:

 

A) Driven right on past my exit on the way to work.  Hello and goodbye, place I am driving to!

 

B) Parked, walked through the parking lot, waved to one of the VPs I work with, through one building where I chatted to the friendly old security guard, through the courtyard, into my building, through the lobby, where I see more people, and then got onto the elevator to look at my reflection and see that my skirt is on backwards.  And it's a skirt where the back definitely looks like a back - only it was in the front.  So then I desperately tried to tug it around before the elevator could reach the 3rd floor (if only I were on 5!  5 would have been enough.), but the lining was attached to the skirt on both sides, and somehow this wasn't cooperating with the twisting, resulting in my skirt being around but hiked up on each side of me.  So I exited hunched over and tugging down, to no avail.

Got that straightened out in the bathroom.

 

So I came in to find that the lovely people at my company got very active on the email around 11:00 last night (why, people, WHY?), leaving me with about 200 emails of work stuff to get through.  Ok, maybe not quite 200 last night - but does my brain seem capable of dealing with close to that amount?  When it can't even put on a skirt? 

Needless to say, I haven't made much progress.

But it's a good thing I can make time for you, the internets.