Tri-Color Lament

The only thing I miss about working in an office this time of year is access to one of these bad boys:

 

Source

At my last job I sat dangerously close to the break room (like 2 feet), so I had my choice of any holiday fatness my heart desired.  Now if I want a special treat I have to actually walk my 8+ month pregnant behind into the store and buy it.  It's all just too cliché and sad to do.  So I mostly don't.  Which is good.

 

And it's also so hard to justify buying 5 pounds of popcorn for yourself, no matter the time of year.

 

But it doesn't mean I can't still dream of taking a little hand bath in a caramel, cheddar, original menage trois.  Can I get an AMEN!?

 

And Happy Holidays!

Bathroom Reading

There is a guy at my gym who brings with him, every single day that I see him there, tiny handwritten notes on half sheets of paper. 

 

Source

 

He either A) reads the same note/short story every time or B) writes himself an excerpt of the news or a book every single day to day with him to the gym instead of bringing an actual book/magazine/Kindle. 

 

This could only be more economical than actually buying a book/magazine/Kindle if you place absolutely zero value you on your time.  That would take hours per week to prepare for each gym session.

 

It mystifies me on the regular but, more importantly, it reminds me of a girl I used to work with who used to take a book with her to the bathroom all the time and read.  Like a full, hard cover book.  To read for 30+ minutes at a time.  She would stick the book in the back of her pants and try to sneakily enter the bathroom without being noticed.

 

Source

 

 

I guess it worked on everyone else.  But since we shared an office I would notice her take the book, stick it in her pants, disappear for half an hour, than see her motionless feet beneath the stall when I went in to confirm my suspicions.  Hell, I even heard her turn the pages when I was in there! 

 

I'm all for listening to Pandora while cruising the Internet at work sometimes, but this was quite simply a slap in the face to everyone else who was chained to their desks.

 

It ended up pissing me off so bad I told on her.  Which makes me a loser.  And her an idiot.  But mostly it just reminds me of the handwritten author at my gym now and angers me a little.

Well, that was easy

 It's official.  My desk is all packed up.  

Sayonara desk jobs.  I already spent my last pay check on a bitchin' fence for Rosie so I'm really, really unemployed now.  However, it only took one maiden frolic in the backyard for that to have been the best money I ever spent.  

The lady likes to be free!

Rosie, how do I love thee.  Let me count the ways.

Collars turned to the side are so hot right now.

Along the Watchtower

Yesterday I was sitting at my desk minding my own beeswax when one of many disobeyers of the "NO SOLICITING" sign walked into our office.

She told me her name and that she was "calling on local businesses" and then she gave me some magazines.  I got excited...for about half a second.

I'm sorry, Paula, but don't walk in all normal like you are going to give me a bunch of coupons or the Wilmington's Guide to Awesomeness and Fun and then give me this:

 

You can never be too prepared!   For paranoia and asteroids.

 

 

This baby is from 2005.  Thanks for the old, hypothetical question that can't be answered.  I needed more of those in my life.

Doubtful

 

 

Soooo specific

 

 

Used!  And also from 2005.

 

 

First of all, I didn't even know this was an OK question to ask.

 

Second of all, judging by the first sentence inside the magazine, the answer, according to the Jehovah's Kingdom, is a resounding NO.

 

Dayum!  Tell me what you really think.

Paula, next time, unless you have coupons for free burritos somewhere, save your paper, save your cardio up the steps, and save your time! We're not buying any crazy today!

Mil and Moldew

Do you like abstract art?

Sure, we all do! 

(Typing that just brought back a huge surge of nostalgia for this infomercial from the 80s - Sally Struthers for ICS.  Remember this??)

This picture above is abstract at it's best.  Pop of color?  Petite lily pads?

Nope, that's the coffee pot at my office.  Apparently coffee can mold.

I'd blame myself since I'm at the bottom of the totem pole/the office bitch, but I have no idea how to make coffee outside of a K-Cup, so it wasn't me that left it!

It just goes to show that you can't leave a man to do a minion's job.  And if you do, it's likely to become a health hazard in some way.

Monday Go Bye Bye

It's official.  I need to invent something immediately and sail around the world.  Not only do Mondays suck @$$, my body is now physically rejecting the act of sitting in an office chair.

I have sciatica and it hurts.  According to the chiropractor I have been handing out money to, I also have a serious case of scoliosis.  Thanks for the devastating news "Doctor".

This all reminds of one of the most amazing conversations I've ever had the privilege of being part of - When a 60+ year old woman was told by a Pilates instructor that she was left handed, not right handed, as she had been trained to believe for the past 6 decades.

My mind was blown in a series of small explosions as she waxed poetic about how different her life could have been if she'd known that she was left-handed.  Would she have been an artist?  Would she still have met her husband?  Would she have learned to speak French?

I didn't have the heart to tell her that Pilates instructors, much like Chiropractors, are not really in a position to tell you life-changing medical information without at least handing you one tiny grain of salt.

Without scoliosis would I have been a ballerina?  Would I be able to put my legs behind my head?  Would I have invented Spanx first?

Oh wait, who cares.  I want to go back to bed.

I Beat Myself Up

Yesterday I kicked my own ass.  All in the span of about an hour.  It involved bashing my shin into a low lying metal grate that I did not see, and sweating through my blouse (which I wore, not knowing that I would be a nervous wreck all day* and need to be wearing Under Armour).

But the highlight of my self-inflicted ass whooping involved *fire ants.  And lots of them.  I was waiting outside of a property I was going to show for work when I heard a lady call to me and ask me if I was a broker.  I approached her car and told her I was not, but I worked for the broker who represented that property.  We got to talking, she was there to take some measurements of the same space I was supposed to show, blah blah blah.

Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt little pains all over my feet and ankles. I just started saying, "Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow."  I had never been bit by a fire ant before so I didn't know what in the world was happening.  Then I look below me to find a massive pile of fire ants, storming all over the ground, my feet, my ankles, my shoes.

Naturally I reacted like an insane person, flung my shoes across the parking lot (not on purpose, just as a side effect of my shock and dancing around like a nut job), and started swatting the crap out of my feet and ankles while saying over and over, "OW.  OW.  OW."

All of this to which the woman I was talking to replied from the safety of her car, 'Oh yeah, I thought that might be an ant hill."  Thanks.  Thanks for the heads up.

Luckily I turned out not to be allergic, but I did have to show the property for the next hour with no shoes on, because fire ants were still impressively coming out of the insoles of my shoes for the next hour or so.

I would love to have seen this incident from a storefront nearby.  One person sitting in her car nonchalantly.  The other person flouncing around outside like a maniac, karate chopping the air and her own legs.

Add this to the list of reasons I'll never be President of the United States - Cannot even stand in a parking lot without actin' a fool.

Haha Cry Cry

My workload/life has gotten so out of control recently that I find myself with the constant desire to watch Bridget Jones Diary, while snuggling beneath a quilt, alternating between fits of laughter and uncontrollable crying - preferrably over a bowl of Ben and Jerry's...It is, afterall, my life's work!

That movie is so hilarious it almost makes me forget that Renee Zellwegger has never, ever fully opened her eyes. I want to start watching it everyday.

Public Feasting

Oh geez. I have a pit in my stomach.

Something so frightening that I never even thought to previously fear just happened to me.

I just heard these words from a coworker: "I saw you at K-38 on Saturday night. But we were tucked in the corner so you couldn't see me."

Gulp. K-38 is my favorite Mexican restaurant in the world. It's also in a conveniently inconvenient location to most people I know in Wilmington, so I never have to hold back on my chip consumption there.

I gruuuuubbed out on Saturday night while sitting at the bar with my husband. We were staying at my parents' house which has no food in it, so I was essentially storing up for winter a whole night without snacks. To think that someone was watching me publicly maul a basket of tortilla chips without restraint is just horrifying.

Especially because it was one of my most vigorous nights o' chips.

Now the mystery of why I am so curvy is debunked for that particular coworker. It's not just genetics. It's tortilla chips :(

Give me awkward

I'm still refraining from any work related post at this time to be a good girl.

But I have one story I have to tell. And it's only vaguely related to work so what the hay.

Words I never thought I'd say: I just got my head shots taken.

It was in a warehouse building with one lone man with a mustache. Not only did he equate Photoshopping my pictures to slipping me a Roofie (not what you want to hear when you are alone with a strange man in a random building), he also made me watch him while he photoshopped my picture. I can't think of a more uncomfortable situation for a person who already hates having her picture taken. This just in, apparently my lips are crooked and I have broad shoulders.

Oh and Carole King just came out with a new Christmas album. He made me listen to it with him while he virtually removed my zits and whitened my teeth. Boy do I feel beautiful!

And now, naturally, I'm perspiring and shaking off lots of lingering awkwardness.

In other semi-work related news, tonight is our Christmas party. This is my favorite time of year no matter where I work because I love the first foray into the personal lives of the people you spend every working day with. You get to see if they drink, how much, what their spouses look like, and, my personal favorite, what kind of jeans they wear!

All of my current coworkers are actually really attractive and normal so I'm not expecting any unexpected mom jeans or drastic mismatches in terms of couples. But who's to say about the drinking aspect!? There could be a token drunken slut episode!! Fingers crossed!

Jazz Hands!!

This guy in the billowing jazz pants is the image that greats me every time I open Adobe at my new job.

Something about a geometrically shaped man in jazz pants, doing a half-assed Grand Jete across my screen makes want to work very hard so that I can afford to buy my husband shirts that are in no way similar to dijon mustard in color.

Thank you for inspiring me Mr. Jazz Pants. And WATCH OUT! Don't step on that A!

First Day Jitters Skinnies

Today was my first day at my new job and it was so enjoyable.

I wish everyday was the first day of a new job. You have basically no real responsibilities other than showing up. Everyone is nice to you. You don't know what you hate about your coworkers yet.

And the best part, you're usually too confused or nervous about the lunch situation that you eat light and start a very successful 1 week diet. At least that's how I am. I hate people watching me eat, so today I ate like 1/3 of a salad and might lose a whole pound by tomorrow morning. Being an awkward mess makes you skinny!...for like a day.

I can't wait for day 2 when I can learn more and eat the rest of my salad. Which I left in the refrigerator at work...because I work there...because I have a job :D Oh happy day!

Good News/Bad News

The good news is that I got a job, starting a week from today. I'll be working at a bakery! Which, believe it or not, is what I wanted to do...more on that later.

The bad news is that I will no longer be able to regale you with titillating tales of water aerobics.

I would love to know what the other ladies in the pool think about my prolonged presence in the class. I've seen other young people do it, but that is usually just for about a week when they are in town on vacation. I've been making cameos for a whole month now.

I am sure they are thinking, "Ok kid, quit freeloading on the Yacht Club membership, do something with your life, and quit trespassing on my circle in the pool."

Well ladies, the end is nigh. Thursday will be my grand finale in water aerobics, because my mom is leaving that day and I refuse to go to a 50+ year old class without a blood-related chaperone.

Next week I will be cracking eggs and taking names. And, God willing, purchasing a pair of chef pants.

La Vida Loca

Today is the greatest day ever my last day of work!

I finally feel like I’m starting my real life once I move. Something about being married now and my husband finally not being in school and having bi-monthly keg parties…Real Life!

Which is ironic because so far this real life consists of me moving in with Mommy and Daddy at their vacation home and putting all of my earthly possessions in a climate controlled box.

Oh well, baby steps.

I just need to get a job and a place to live and I’ll be set! Oh wait, that’s like everything.

I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I hope with all of my heart that I can do something that doesn’t involve sitting at a desk. Because all the funniness happens while you’re talking to people and moving around! Not doing data entry in a corner, sharing an office with a crazy lady that reads emails to herself OUTLOUD.

T-minus 5 hours until I’m free at last!

This Time Baby I'll Be Calling You

I am so happy that husband got a job in beautiful Wilmington and we get to move there this summer!

However, I am going to have to resist the urge to call him 15 times a day while he’s at work.

See, he hasn’t had a job for the last 2 years because he has been in grad school. That means he has a more flexible day schedule with more breaks for talking on the phone.

I, however, having worked this whole time, have NOT had those breaks. After a few hundred calls in which he wanted to discuss what he should have for lunch or what the weather was like outside, I finally had to put a limit on his phone calls to twice per day or when it was extremely important.

Things were getting embarrassing. I share an office with 2 other people in a tight space.

You can imagine my surprise when one day, I got a third phone call. I figured it must be important.

G: “Who sings that song Bulletproof?”

M: “…Are you kidding me?”

G: “What? It’s a classic.”

M: “Ok thanks. Bye.”

I had to email him the answer because there’s really no pretending to make the name “La Roux” work related…As I do not work for a French cosmetic company.

Time for retribution!!!!!

Yes ma'am? No sir!

Today I passed out a lot of tshirts to some of the new students at the University where I work.

2 semi-devastating things happen.

1) Someone called me ma'am :( I'm only 26!! Perhaps I should start a new moisturizing regime!

2) 99% of the girls asked for Small tshirts. I literally had to fight back the urge everytime I passed one out to say, "Enjoy it while it last you lucky little freshman!" But, alas, I didn't think my supervisors would think too highly of that.

Despite these instances, I had so much fun being out of the office that I signed up to do it tomorrow and the next day.

Hopefully I will see lots more interesting people watching and no one will think I'm an old lady.

Work Mystery

With all of it's fun, awkward get-togethers, and forced shared enjoyment of life milestones, the one thing that really perplexes me about the workplace is people who forget about their food in the fridge for weeks on end.

I just do not understand the concept of forgetting about your food. 'Cause honey, if I got food to eat, you best believe I'm gone eat it.

Sure, I've seen people leave run of the mill stuff like leftover spaghetti. But sometimes people even forget about their dank leftovers from restaurants!!

That truly blows my mind. The longest I've ever gone without thinking about my food is like 10 minutes, and that's only if I'm on the phone or doing something where a snack is involved.

I wish there was a social rule that said it was ok to ask people for their food if they haven't eaten it within 2 days of bringing it to work. Maybe I'll start a petition...