Friday, December 31

Maybe in Bad Lady Land
It's 10:45.
If I left work now, do you think that I could still consider this a half day?
Happy New Year
How are YOU spending your New Year's Eve? Perhaps many of you are still in bed.


Oh, I'm at work.

We don't get today off.

You see, the Accounting Department (I always knew those guys were trouble) needs to be here to close out year-end accounting stuff. The books. Or something.

So, because they have to be here, we ALL have to be here. I made it to work in a record 28 minutes. Hmm, I wonder if that's because I WAS THE ONLY CAR ON THE ROAD?

At least I have saved a half-day of vacation, so I'll be outa here sometime in the noonish hour.

/end bitterness

Happy New Year everybody! See ya in the '05.

Thursday, December 30

So this part really sucks
I failed my glucose test. FAILED IT!!!!!
So now I have to go to the hospital on Wednesday for a three-hour tour -- I mean test -- so we can find out just how bad it's going to get. Gestational diabetes? Probably. Full-blown diabetes? Maybe not now but probably in the future, since it's in my family history and if I have the gestational kind I'll probably get the real kind at some point.

I'm trying not to freak out about it. Maybe it's nothing. Or maybe I'll just have to modify my diet. What I'm most worried about, and it shows you what a selfish bitch I really am, is whether or not I'll still be able to drink a Diet Coke every day. Because this would be right up there with the apocolypse as far as I am concerned.
You complete me
I hate to even admit this, but I find that when Incompetent But Likeable is not in the office, my work day is missing something.

He has been on vacation for the past few days, and it just wasn't the same around here. I need his constant pacing, his humming and singing of random tunes such as "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round", and his useage of terms such as "gosh darn" and "doggone" and "jeez oh man."

It just balances off my stress level to have him be a different kind of crazy.

Wednesday, December 29

I promised myself that I wouldn't become one of these people, but it's happened anyway
I know that no one cares, but I'm starting to put together ideas and plans for the baby's room. I'm going with a moon and stars kind of thing that will work for a boy or a girl. So here is the first piece in the puzzle, courtesy of Pottery Barn Kids...

They're curtain rods for the windows, and then I'll get either the sheer star curtains that PBK has or some solid denim-colored curtains, also offered at PBK.

I didn't want to become one of these people obsessed with a "theme" for a baby's room, but, oh well. It must be something in the hormones.

Tuesday, December 28

Ok, my main goal in posting this is for some kind soul to comment that everything that I have posted about is normal and that I, for the most part, shouldn't worry.

I had my second pre-natal appointment this morning, wherein I got the results back from the bloodwork they did last time. This was after they attempted to get the baby's heartbeat with the heart monitor wand thingy and couldn't, so they shuffled me off to the ultrasound room, where everything was found to be normal (thank goodness -- except the baby looks even less humanoid than last time they did the ultrasound ... did I mate with E.T. and not realize it?).

However, some things came back from my blood test that weren't so normal... one being my blood sugar level. So I had to drink this orange pop stuff and they drew more blood to test for gestational diabetes. If that comes back high, and it probably will since I've been eating crappily since Christmas Eve, I have to go in to the hospital for a longer test to pinpoint whether it's gestational or actual full-blown diabetes. Lovely.

Also, my iron levels are very low, so I'm going on a supplement. They said that my iron level was typical of someone at 24 weeks, and I am almost at 12. Not good. But I knew that I was slightly anemic, so not a big deal I guess.

The triple whammy was that my blood type is negative, and that means, I get a big shot in my ass when I'm farther along.

Not to mention that I then got the full-blown, in-the-stirrups exam and all that entails. All in all, a banner trip to the ob/gyn.
Holiday recap
Here we go...

The past few days have been a blur, beginning Wednesday night with my slippery trip to the store for cookie ingredients, then Thursday's cookie baking, and Friday's frenzied cookie baking. I got off scot-free with the herring, no excuse needed, on Christmas Eve.

On Christmas Day we started off the morning at my in-law's, and then headed to my mom's for brunch. We arrived back at my in-law's and were there for the evening. My husband's dad's side of the family was there, and the men far outnumbered the women. There were my husband and his two brothers, plus three brothers of my husband's aunt and uncle, for a total of 6 men between the ages of 18 and 32 (isn't that a demographic group?).

Well, put together six men between the ages of 18 and 32 with about 40 beers, not to mention (yo ho ho and a) bottle of rum, and let the fun begin. There is much speculation about the bottle of rum, but the only one who appeared to drink it was my 18 year old brother in law. And he was probably the most sober in the group.

The Christmas party was rolling along just fine on its own. There were spirited conversations about how much the Browns suck, how much certain players on the Cavs suck (Zydrunas Ilgauskas, I'm looking at you), how much certain players on the Indians suck (we picked up Jason Bere AGAIN?), and other various topics. Everyone was laughing and enjoying each other's company, when my husband's uncle Mike brought out the karaoke machine.

Oh crap. Karaoke. It's funny at first because uncle Mike does the first song and he puts a "robot voice" filter on, and great hilarity ensues. Owen's aunt does the next song, Abba's "Dancing Queen," and we are rolling with laughter. A few other people begrudgingly take the mike and do various crowd-pleasing songs, and it's still funny to me because I'm laughing at other people's expense.

Owen's aunt is adamant that everyone take a turn, but I'm still laughing because I'm thinking that someone else will refuse and the whole karaoke thing will die down.

But my stoic, non-fun father-in-law takes the mike and does "New York New York," and I know I'm fucked. Suddenly this is not funny anymore, because I realize that I am going to have to choose a song to do and these are my in-laws and I've married into this family and am carrying a child so I can't run away and join the witness protection program when this is over.

I consider myself a decent singer; I can carry a tune. But I don't like being put on the spot. Luckily I chose the Temptations' "My Girl" and everyone sang along with me, so it wasn't so bad. And it made my brother-in-law's rendition of Britney's "Oops I Did It Again" so much funnier after the burden of karaokeing was lifted from my shoulders.

Finally after everyone had a turn, we returned to normal Christmas conversation. Which is pretty much when the 18-to-32 year old male contingent had gathered in the kitchen. By this time the beers had been flowing pretty heavily. They were trying to decide whether or not someone should eat the last pierogie which was languishing in its bowl, and had been for several hours. It had coagulated in butter and had hardened into a greasy, artery-clogging glob. My husband, the man to whom I pledged "to death do us part," declared, "Why not? It's Christmas!" and popped the pierogie into his mouth and ate it in one bite.

Fifteen minutes later, he plopped down next to me, his eyes glazed over, and informed me that he was "right on the edge."

"You're way over the edge, pal," I told him. Sure enough, several seconds later, he was nowhere to be found.

Turns out he was yakking in the upstairs bathroom.

Barfing husband
The beer ran out, and thus the party began to break up. One of my husband's cousins picked up my husband's shoes and handed them to his girlfriend, thinking they were hers, even though she had already put her shoes on. Same thing for my purse, which he gave to her. I'm surprised he didn't try to roll the piano out of the house. They wanted to say goodbye to my husband, but he was nowhere to be seen. That's because he was still praying to the porcelain god.

And there he stayed, long after the last guest left, and we all took turns going up there to knock just to see if he was still alive. I was seriously envisioning a trip to the emergency room. Finally, after about 2 1/2 hours of waiting, we finally got him out, got his coat and shoes on, and I transported his drunk ass home and got him into bed.

I let him sleep until noon the next day and then went in to make sure he was breathing, as I had done several times during the night. I wasn't sure if we were going to make it to my dad's. I would have just gone by myself, except that my car was buried under at least a foot of snow, and at least a two-inch thick layer of ice.

Ice, ice baby
So he got his act together and we drove his four-wheel drive vehicle (thank goodness we had it or we might not have left the driveway at all on Christmas) to my dad's, about an hour away. That was a more subdued event, with everyone poking my stomach and asking questions about the baby that I haven't even had time nor the inkling to ponder yet.

The baby got lots of Christmas stuff, too. So far the baby has four outfits, some toys, and a bassinet. And I got lots of maternity clothes.

It was a whirlwind weekend, and then I had to get up at the buttcrack o' dawn to travel with my boss to Steelerstown. Those little shits in Pennsylvania got a dusting of snow. You can see the grass for heaven's sakes! Memo to self: move away from the lake. Lake? Bad. No lake? Good.

There's much more to report, but it's also lunch time, and I am making a grilled cheese sandwich in our toaster oven in the work kitchen, so it shall have to wait until later.

Sunday, December 26

Recaplet: Christmas
When I get some time I'll post at length about the past few days' adventures, but I'll give you a few teaser bullet points now to whet your whistles...
  • Karaoke
  • Barfing husband
  • Ice, ice baby

Meanwhile, tomorrow, I'll be driving to Pittsburgh with my boss to attend a meeting, and then driving back. Oh, and I'll be meeting my boss in my office parking lot AT 7 A.M. Won't that be a lovely way to start off the week!

Friday, December 24

Cookie tally
Here's what we've done so far:
1 batch of butter cookie dough: has chilled overnight and is ready to be rolled
1 batch of snickerdoodle dough: has chilled overnight and is ready to be baked
1 batch of peanut butter Hershey kiss cookies: done (and Mr. Bulky did not have the unwrapped kisses so I had to do that by hand -- grr)
2 batches of peppermint bark: done

1 batch of peppermink bark: ruined (poured into a glass baking dish to dry and it wouldn't come out

1 batch of buckeyes: ruined (consistency not solid enough, globs of peanut butter mixture fell into chocolate and had to be retrieved by hand)

Sister in law: on her way over for round two

Now for tonight, I need a fresh excuse not to partake in my husband's grandmother's pickled herring. I'm going to try to play the pregnancy card and see how that flies. I've never had to eat it before, though, so why tarnish my perfect record?

Happy Holidays to all!

Wednesday, December 22

It's snow joke
Last night when I arrived home from work, my husband was in possibly the worst state of depression that I had ever seen him in. And it was all because some asshat on the radio predicted up to EIGHTEEN inches of snow.

I turned on the local news and my trustworthy Channel 3 weatherman was only calling for about 2 to 4 inches spread out over the entire day.

Which brings me to my point: I think that weatherpeople should be physically punished for reporting gross inaccuracies in their forecasts. Every winter we go through this. Some snow-happy meteorologist tells the viewing audience that this is going to be one of the worst storms of the century, that we haven't seen snow like this since Rutherford B. Hayes was President, and that if we have to drive, we should not do so under any circumstances because we will most certainly become stuck in a snow drift for days before anyone can rescue us and we'll have to survive off of the months-old french fry that we find underneath the driver's seat. We go to bed that night and wake up prepared for the worst, only to open the window blinds and find a dusting of snow and clear roads.

I'm thinking a public flogging would do nicely. Or maybe just a giant dunk tank that people can come take free throws at.

Although, the snow is coming down at a pretty good clip right now.

Tuesday, December 21

Find me the nearest blunt weapon
I am on hold with one of our vendors, and the Worst. Christmas Song. Ever!!!!!!! is on.
It's that one where the cherubic child from yesteryear sings about how he/she wants a hippopatamus for Christmas.

Well, at least there's this
I passed this test ... barely.
My God, what have I done?
Maybe it's because we haven't spent that much money on Christmas presents this year, but in some kind of guilt-tripped stupor, I volunteered myself and my unreliable sister-in-law, so really just myself, to make the Christmas cookies this year.

And I'm not just talking about your Christmas cutout sugar cookies. I'm talking peanut butter cookies with a hershey kiss in the middle, snickerdoodles (which I'm told are some kind of cinnamon cookie -- MPF), buckeyes, peppermint bark, and probably something else I'm forgetting.

This is no small task, as you might imagine. It's a three-day affair. Beginning tomorrow with...


*cues eerie music*

I will travel to a store called, no joke, "Mr. Bulky," in search of chocolate and peppermint. Then to the grocery store for the other cookie-making ingredients. Then I will go home and delve into the GIANT TIN OF POTATO CHIPS my aunt sent us yesterday.

On Thursday, our task will be...


*a woman screams somewhere in the distance*

I am out of my element when it comes to this kind of stuff. I don't even think I own a rolling pin. Shit!

Also on Thursday, I will see what is left in the GIANT TIN OF POTATO CHIPS.

Finally, Friday will be the


This may actually begin Thursday night. We have to be at my husband's grandparents' house on Friday afternoon, so time is tight. If there are chips left in the GIANT TIN OF POTATO CHIPS, they will be finished off.

Then, there is the


Someone please tell me why I did this to myself.

Monday, December 20

Ask and you shall receive
And in non-baby related news... my cats must be reading my blog.
One of them yakked on the hardwood floor in my upstairs.
Thanks, guys.
I told my boss. It's all over! Yay! Everyone knows now!
He was happy for me, and then came back to reality and realized that I'd be out when nothing major was hitting, so it was all OK in his book.
Then we walked out of his office and I stopped to peruse the many boxes of chocolate we've gotten from vendors and he says, loudly, "Take all you want! You ARE eating for two now!" So in case anyone didn't know, they knew now.

Hee. And yay! Even Bad Lady mustered up some congratulations for me! Incompetent but Likeable said it was "neat."

And you know what? He's right.
Now it can be told
I'm a tricky bitch, aren't I?
I haven't told him yet but I'll tell you guys...
Yep, I am about 2 1/2 months pregnant, my due date is July 14th. I have known for about a month, I have had my first ultrasound, and I'm going back next week for some kind of checkup thing.

The whole thing is still kind of an abstract concept to me, but everyone around me is talking about bassinets and maternity clothes and I'm only vaguely comprehending the idea that there's something inside me that is eventually going to be able to cut the grass so my husband won't have to. I'm just barely catching on that I will have full responsibility for the care and upbringing of another human being. Thankfully I have a great family who are all very excited. This will be the first grandchild for both my parents and my husband's parents, so we're just going to give up any hope that s/he won't be spoiled, because there's not a chance.

I'm sure that in the upcoming months I'll be looking for advice from all of you moms out there, as soon as I kind of figure this whole thing out.

Now wish me luck -- as I will definitely need it. Both for talking to the boss and for the rest of the seven+ months of this journey that I'm about to take.
Never mind
Yeah, today's not really looking like a good day to tell the boss I'm pregnant...

*waits for comments*

Friday, December 17

Red alert
OK, look, the elf hat thing didn't happen. I ended up getting suckered into selling those damn Lance Armstrong wristband bracelet things for charity, and those things went like hotcakes. But anyway, forget about the elf hat for now, we've got a workplace update, and it's a good one!

It has not been 100% confirmed, but I think Screech resigned at the end of the day today.

Long story short: another job offer came her way earlier this week. She was overheard by several people talking about it. One of those people went in and reported it to my boss. I have pretty good reason to believe that it was Bad Lady, because, man, that shit's right up her alley. Yeah, Screech should have been more careful, but man, that's pretty low to run in and tattle-tale to the boss. Especially since we thought a few weeks ago that Bad Lady was looking for another job.

And then add to that that Screech received a fax on our office fax machine from her new employer, which somehow also ended up in my boss' hands. Yikes. Bad move.

So there was this huge, tearful confrontation yesterday, and she was supposed to tell him today what she was doing.

I left early so I didn't hear the outcome, but it looked like she was going to leave. I mean, at this point, she's already pretty much screwed her credibility here, so, it's probably for the best that she goes.

That drama will continue on Monday.

And the timing couldn't be worse as far as I'm concerned, because I'm planning on dropping a bombshell of my own on Monday ...


Thursday, December 16

Headache from Hell
If I've seemed grumpier than usual this week (what's that you say? I'm always grumpy? So this week I was not discernibly grumpier than my usual, grumpy self?), it is because I have been plagued by the Headache from Hell.

Wait, that wasn't dramatic enough...

It is because I have been plagued by the Headache...


The Headache from Hell arrived last Friday, and its bags were packed for more than just an overnighter. This mo' fo' brought furniture and made itself at home.

Tylenol was no match for this bad boy, as it scoffed at the mere mention of acetominophin. It giggled childishly as it made my head throb with every sudden movement. It relished in my pain.

HFH was my steady companion all weekend, coming and going as it pleased, but never disappearing completely. On Monday, I took HFH to work with me. Tuesday, HFH was still my constant companion. On Tuesday afternoon I had had enough and took the afternoon off, went home, and slept. THAT scared the crap out of HFH. Apparently, sleep is HFH's arch-nemesis.

So on Wednesday, HFH left me alone. I thought that I had finally beaten it into submission, and that we had parted ways.

Not so fast.

Today, I woke up, feeling fine and well-rested. And that's when there was a knock at the door, and there, standing at the doorstep with more luggage, was the Headache...

FROM HELL!!!!!! (part two, HFH Takes Manhattan)

This time, it's personal.

I'm Lost
Last night, for lack of any quality Wednesday programming, I decided to try and tune in to ABC's Lost to see if I could figure out what was going on. I've heard good things about this show but missed the premiere and all subsequent episodes, so I was not so sure that I could pick it up mid-season and know what was going on.

As luck would have it, the pilot episode was being re-run last night, so know I have a basic understanding of the premise. It's a cool, weird, scary, messed up show.

Someone please catch me up so I can feel like one of the cool kids who's in the know!

Wednesday, December 15

Two days from now.
At a corporate charity luncheon.
Working as a greeter.
Wearing an elf hat.

You know that's going to be a good story, right?

Petty Home-Based Annoyance of the Day
As you know, I have two cats. Cats who occasionally do bad things, like drag up my dirty underwear from the basement (Dom) or lick the inside of my glass of milk while I'm still drinking it (Molly).

Please, someone, explain to me, why it is that I have laminate flooring in my kitchen, hardwood flooring in the upstairs office as well as our spare bedroom where their food is, but whenever they feel the need to let a hairball go, they do it on the carpet? And always in a spot where I don't see it until it's been sitting for several days (such as in the living room underneath the coffee table)? Can't they just hack up their hairballs on an easier-to-clean surface?


And I'm sure that this is just practice for the day a child enters my life...

Petty Office Annoyance of the Day (so far)
The shredder truck is parked right beneath my office window (yes, I have a window despite working in a cube), and it's, you know, shredding stuff. Loudly.

Tuesday, December 14

Fa la la la f-you
It's the most annoying commute of the year!
Where my tires are a-slidin' and I'm white-knuckle drivin'
To get my ass here....
It's the most annoying commute of the year.

I'm not a fan of the snow. Never have been, never will, and I know that I have no right to whine about it because I choose to live in Ohio, but... I. Fucking. HATE IT!!!!!!!!

Last night's drive home: 2 hours, 15 minutes. Most of which was spent on the road where my office is, trying to get on the highway.

This morning's commute into work: 1 hour, 20 minutes. Most of which was spent in so-called rubbernecker delays. Nothing pisses me off more than a rubbernecker delay. Ooh! Look! A car has spun off into the median! Look! A person is sitting inside the car, smoking a cigarette! Wow. Oh look! Another one spun off! Wow. I have NEVER seen anything like this before! My goodness.

By the fourth car that has spun off the road, I'm over it. Yeah, I rubbernecked at the first one. I figure, everyone else is looking at it, why shouldn't I take a gander as well?

My greatest fear, however, is the dreaded Black Ice. Wouldn't that be a great name for a female African American wrestler? Or someone on American Gladiators? Oh Lord, the black ice scares the crap out of me. Because I know from experience that you don't have to be going too fast to do a shit-ton of damage to your car if you hit a patch of it. The black ice is what keeps me going a at a snail's pace, leaving about 15 car lengths between myself and the car in front of me, and gripping the wheel extra tight when a truck passes me to the left.

So I guess winter has finally arrived. I had totally convinced myself that we were going to get off scot-free this winter. That global warming stuff, if it could just center itself over northeast Ohio, that would be cool with me. Warm us up to about Hawaii's temperature? Yeah. That'll work.

But even worse than my commute to work today... the cherry on top of my already shitty mood... me and Bad Lady are wearing the EXACT SAME sweater. I accessorized mine with a brown jacket, but there's no mistaking it. Dammit, I just bought this sweater, too. And it's cute as hell. But there's no excuse -- the sweater must be burned.

Oh, and I didn't even tell you about yesterday! Let's see... get to work, and the power's out. Walk up four dark flights of stairs (exercise? bah humbug) and overhear one of the Presidents tell my boss that he is leaving, and that my boss has to make an "executive decision" whether or not to let us go home. By all estimations, they have heard that it will be 4 to 5 hours before the power comes on because some transformer blew or something. So we wait. And we wait. My boss says nothing to us.

We clean our desks. We file. We sit around and bullshit and whine.

It's 11 a.m., and we're still without power. The backup power is also out at this point. We are beginning to form an angry mob. We've all decided that we are leaving, because the day is going to be a total waste.

With that, the lights flicker on. We learn later that another President had called in to his assistant and told her to tell everyone to go home. We were that close!

And then the snow started. And you know the rest.

Happy holidays.

Friday, December 10

Fa la la la la
Good things about today:
1. Holiday bonuses. (Bonii?) Whoo hoo!
*does a cartwheel and back handspring*

2. Holiday luncheon. Yum!

3. Holiday bake sale.
*munches on gingerbread cookies*

4. It's frickin Friday.

Thursday, December 9

This just might be under someone's tree this year
This gift is perfect for someone on your Christmas list. Maybe it's even you.

I totally want to get this for someone.

Wednesday, December 8

Small world
I don't know if I ever wrote about how a biker was killed right outside my house earlier this year. It was such a surreal, bizarre night. I remember that we were in our basement, watching a taped episode of the Sopranos, the one where Adrianna gets shot. I knew that she got shot because I had either read it in a blog or heard it on the radio, and so I was just sitting there on pins and needles, waiting for it to happen, and as the episode got closer and closer to the end, getting more and more jacked up about it.

About halfway through the episode, we heard a noise. It just sounded like something falling off a shelf upstairs, but it spooked both of our cats. I thought nothing of it, but after a few minutes, my husband felt uneasy about it and went upstairs to investigate.

He called me up and we were witness to a scene of total chaos. There were several police cars blocking off the street, a couple ambulances, and TONS of pedestrian gawkers. Finally, across the street, we saw the motorcycle, totally smashed to bits. We saw the biker in the road, not moving, his helmet several feet away from him. But we couldn't see much else, because it was dark, and because of the distance.

We watched this scene for about an hour, until finally they loaded the biker into an ambulance and sped away.

We learned that he died from a small blurb in the newspaper, which also said that the driver was a hit-skip, that she fled the scene, but that police came to her house and arrested her late that night.

Well, fast forward to the present. My husband's boss calls my husband and tells him that he will be off Thursday because he has to accompany his teenage son to court because the son is testifying in a D.U.I. case. It turns out that his son was at the house of the hit-skip driver that night. The driver's son and my husband's boss' son are friends. Apparently she was completely trashed, and when she got back to the house, she barricaded herself in there, and wouldn't let the cops in until the middle of the night when she sobered up.

The whole thing is sad, and to think that we are somehow connected to it, because it happened right before our eyes, it's definitely a tragedy that will stay with me for a long time.

Tuesday, December 7

Sugar Buzz
Oh. My. Freaking. Gawd.
Someone brought in the most awesome treats EVER. They're called two-bite brownies. And they have a little puff of cream cheese frosting on them.

And so begins the torturous onslaught of crap food that people bring in around the holidays.

Monday, December 6

Keep reachin' for the stars
Saw-eet! I am the #1 google search for "office bullshit".
*unfolds prepared acceptance speech*

Ahem. I'd like to thank Bad Lady, for providing most of the rants that spew onto this page from time to time, couldn't have done it without you. I'd like to thank Other Side of the Cube Mate, for bordering on annoying and for shushing me on your stupid-ass conference call. I'd like to thank my boss, for occasionally being blog fodder. I'd like to thank the techies, especially those of you who are pigmentally challenged. I'd like to thank the people who sit in the kitchen and analyze the carb content of every lunch that passes through the doors.

If I forgot anyone, I'd like to thank them as well, this is truly, truly an honor.

*wipes away tear of joy*
Jesus saves... and he fights plaque
Just when you thought it was safe to go to the dentist ... Jesus shows up in an x-ray.

Apologizes to whoever's blog I stole this from... here's a zoomed up look at Mr. Jesus H. Christ, just in case you had a hard time making him out from the first shot:

Coming soon to an eBay near you!
A post
So I'm sitting here, munching on the Captain's Wafers (doesn't that sound dirty?), and I realize that I got nothin' as far as blog material goes. The proverbial well has run dry, so to speak.

But never fear, my friend Amy sent me this e-mail, and suggested that perhaps I could post it, and so post I shall:


'Titanic' Tops Cheesy Film Moments Survey
1 hour, 38 minutes ago Entertainment - AP

NEW YORK - Although "Titanic" soared at the box office
in 1997, according to a recent United Kingdom survey,
it's most memorable line — "I'm the king of the
world!" — sunk.
Baker Warburtons posed the question "What are your top
three cheesiest moments in film?" to 2,000 U.K.
moviegoers in celebration of the launch of their new
cheese flavored crumpets.

The line uttered by Leonardo DiCaprio (news) was
followed by Patrick Swayze's "Nobody puts Baby in the
corner," from 1987's "Dirty Dancing" and Andie
McDowell's "Is it still raining? I hadn't noticed,"
from the end of 1994's "Four Weddings and a Funeral."

Warburtons reports that surveyed women opted for
romantic comedy moments from films such as "Notting
Hill" and "Jerry Maguire" while men preferred silly
scenes from action flicks like "Top Gun" and
"Braveheart." Despite the gender divide, 33 percent of
the overall vote unanimously agreed on the "Titanic"
yell as the cheesiest moment.

Here's the list of big cheese moments:

1. "Titanic": Leonardo DiCaprio's "I'm the king of the

2. "Dirty Dancing": Patrick Swayze's "Nobody puts Baby
in the corner."

3. "Four Weddings And A Funeral": Andie McDowell's "Is
it still raining? I hadn't noticed."

3. "Ghost": Demi Moore's "Ditto." to Patrick Swayze's
"I love you."

5. "Top Gun": Val Kilmer to Tom Cruise (news): "You
can be my wingman anytime"

6. "Notting Hill": Julia Roberts' "I'm just a girl...
standing in front of a boy... asking him to love her."

7. "Independence Day": Bill Pullman's "Today we
celebrate our Independence Day!"

8. "Braveheart": Mel Gibson (news)'s "They may take
our lives, but they will not take our freedom!"

9. "Jerry Maguire": Renee Zellweger to Tom Cruise:
"You had me at hello."

10. "The Postman": A blind woman says to Kevin Costner
(news): "You're a godsend, a savior." He replies: "No,
I'm a postman."


I happen to agree with most of these. I'm trying to think of some other movie moments that would make my personal list.

Hmm... that reminds me of a story... when my husband was a freshman in college, he and some friends went to see the movie "Passenger 57", which starred Wesley Snipes. The theater in which he and his friends chose to view this movie was ... um ... urban. Anyway, there comes a point in the movie where Wesley Snipes says something like, "Always bet on black" and the entire theater erupted in applause and hoots.

Here are a few more quotes, most of which have become cheesy by overuse throughout the years (thank you stationfive):

Here's looking at you, kid. (Casablanca)
Get your stinkin' paws off me, you damn dirty ape! (Planet of the Apes)
I'll make him an offer he can't refuse. (The Godfather)
You talkin' to me? (Taxi Driver)
I see dead people. (The Sixth Sense)
I'll be back. (Terminator)
Go ahead, make my day. (Dirty Harry)
I love the smell of napalm in the morning. (Apocalypse Now)
'You want answers?' 'I want the truth!' 'You can't handle the truth!' (A Few Good Men)
Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in... (The Godfather III)

Friday, December 3

Survive Her
After what I consider a very dismal Survivor season, I find myself rooting for Chris to win it all. My husband pegged Chris as the winner from episode one. He also swears he picked Eliza to be the top female finisher. In typical fashion, I predicted Scout would be the first one gone and that Sarge would win, only to see those two picks blown out of the water.

Of the women who are left, I wouldn't mind seeing Julie surprise everyone and win. But she is looking like easy pickins for next week's voteoff. I just hope that neither Scout nor Twila comprise the final two. Yikes, them two wimmins is nasty!

Thursday, December 2

Jason Giambi used steroids?

*shocked face*


What'll they say next, that Mark McGwire did too?

Wednesday, December 1

A new low
Yes, I am ashamed of myself.
I sunk to a new low last night.
I watched that stupid Gilligan's Island reality show.
Well, the second hour, I was flipping between that and Veronica Mars and The Amazing Race, but STILL.

Today has gotten off to a rousing start. I was in the restroom and noticed I had a thread coming off my skirt. So I pulled it...

... And proceeded to rip out the entire hem.

So yeah. I masking taped it up, but who knows how long that will stay. I'm hoping someone has some safety pins.

UPDATE: Safety pins have been located and implemented. Project Pin-Up is a success.

Tuesday, November 30

-----Original message -----

From: me
To: boss
Date: November 29, 2004 4:37 pm
Subject: Request for vacation day

[Boss],Would it be possible for me to take December 27 as a vacation day?
Please let me know.


-----Original message -------
From: my boss
To: me
Date: November 30, 2004 12:49 pm
Subject: re:Request for vacation day

Yes. Have fun. God knows I'll have to work that day to cover your ass.



Monday, November 29

.... Aaaaaand we're back
Well, one of the things I'm thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend was that there was not too much blog activity, so I didn't have to spend hours catching up with everyone. Thank you for not posting!!!!

I'm also thankful that Thanksgiving was free of family drama. That's always a plus.

I saw way too many James Bond movies this weekend, that's thanks to my in-laws, who are 007 freaks. They can quote the movies. They have favorite Bond girls, and favorite Bonds. Favorite villains, even. I had never seen a 007 movie prior to marrying into this family. I had, however, seen all three Austin Powers movies several times, so this helps me to appreciate the spoof even more.

I did not brave the shopping mall extravaganza. There's nothing that skeeves me out more than bargain hungry, tryptophan-addled Christmas shoppers on Black Friday. I don't care much for crowds in the first place, but if someone is additionally going to elbow me for the last Playstation 2, I'll pass. I plan on doing all my shopping this year online, thank you very much.

I was not pleased to see the first snowfall of the season, even though it melted the next day. It's only a sign of what is to come. One of these years, I will move my ass south or west, to a climate that agrees more with me. I'm thinking Hawaii.

Wednesday, November 24

My office today is operating on B.L.T. (Bad Lady Time). We're all allowed to leave early today! Hooray! Too bad Bad Lady isn't here today to take part in the celebrations.

Have a happy Turkey Day, everybody!

Tuesday, November 23

Damn, she's smooth
Well, here's another one to file in the "just when you think Bad Lady has tried every trick in the book, she comes up with this doozy" folder:

Sure, around the holidays, it's always slow around here. The workload is diminished, or in some cases, non-existent.

But we all suffer through it. We put in our time, enjoy a cake day, and go home on time. We take a long lunch, we surf the Internet more than usual.

But we DON'T decide, at 3:30, to call it a day.

Unless you are Bad Lady, and then you can declare that you're bored, pack up your shit, and leave, much to the shock and awe of all those around you.
Between the basket brawl, hunters shooting each other, the woman who cut off her baby's arms, and the $28k grilled cheese sandwich, it's no wonder Dan Rather has had enough.

Friday, November 19

My next-door neighbor, Jim, has expressed interest in 007 role
MY BACKYARD (AP): My next door neighbor, Jim, has expressed interest in auditioning for the role of James Bond.

Several Hollywood actors' names have been thrown around in association with the role, left vacant by Pierce Brosnan. So far, my next door neighbor, Jim, has not been approached about the role.

"It's something I've always wanted," Jim said. "If they asked me, I'd probably do it."

In a related story, my other next door neighbor, Chet, has not expressed interest in the role. "It's not something I can see myself doing," he said, while cutting his grass.

Sources say that my across the street neighbor, whose name I do not know, may be asked to read for the part of 007. My across the street neighbor could not be reached for comment.

Related links:
Colin Farrell doesn't want to do Bond
Colin Firth wants to do Bond
Gold Bond
Survivor NC-17
OK, so was I the only one cringing and simultaneously giggling like Beavis when Twila, with her legs straddled around a pole, kept chanting, "Go down Chad! Go down! Please, for the love of God, go down, Chad!"


Incidentally, is this the same season that Dolly was on? Because that seems like it was forever ago.

Thursday, November 18

Here is my petty office bullshit of the day:

The woman in the cube next to mine... we can't see each other (no, my cube opens to face Bad Lady, thank you very much). We share a cube wall. And her phone is right next to the shared wall.

So what does she do? She sets up a conference call, IN HER CUBE. And then shushes me when someone comes over and asks me a question.

Hello? Not fifty feet away, we have THREE, count 'em, THREE conference rooms. Each is eqipped with that lovely invention by Alexander Graham Bell, the telephone. (Or did Thomas Edison invent the phone? Oh, who gives a shit.)

*huge eye roll*

Don't shush me. If you choose to set up a call in your cubicle, then you should EXPECT typical office noise. And please don't think about how you are inconveniencing others around you, who have to LISTEN to your entire conversation!

Sorry. I'm not fired up about this, I swear.

P.S. I apologize for excessive use of capital letters in this post.
Off the hizzle, fo' drizzle
Nothing like coming in only to discover you have a 10 a.m. deadline to get the adrenaline pumping. I am the type of person who despises deadlines. They are my enemy. I am an anti-crastinator, in that I don't care for doing things at the last minute. Can't stand it. It makes me too frazzled. I'd rather be done with a project with time to spare than to be panicking about it at the last hour. This made me sort of a weirdo in college, but I didn't care, I was getting a good nights' sleep while my friends all were pulling all-nighters. Sleep trumps all.

I'm meeting a friend for lunch today, so I will actually get a chance to leave the office for a change.

It is drizzling out. I have decided that "drizzle" is one of my favorite words. It sounds like a word Snoop Dogg made up.

Wednesday, November 17

Annoying song lyric of the day
Currently playing on Bad Lady's radio:

I want you
I need you
There ain't no way
I'm ever gonna love you
Now don't be sad
Coz two outa three ain't bad...

-Meat Loaf

Ugh. The Loaf.

Tuesday, November 16

A mother of a miracle
And lo, the Virgin Mary appeared in a grilled cheese sandwich. And it was good.
Then, the sandwich appeared on Ebay, and it was good.
Then, I ate it, and it was good.
Could have done with some chips, also though.

The Law of Conservation of Energy states that energy cannot be created or destroyed, but can change its form.
The total quantity of matter and energy available in the universe is a fixed amount and never any more or less.

-taken from some scientific website

I am not scientifically-minded. It was never one of my favorite subjects. In fact, I always wondered how I managed to eke through science classes in high school.

But I think I have discovered a scientific principle that needs to be documented. I’m talking potential Nobel Prize-winning stuff, here.

Based upon the Law of Conservation of Energy, which states that there is always a fixed quantity of matter and energy in existence, I have noted a curious phenomenon.

I’ll call it the Law of Conservation of Paper Clips.

How it works is: no human being who works in an office ever has to buy paper clips. You can use all the paper clips you want, but they always come back to you. I send some out in the mail attached to documents, I get them back attached to other documents. Never once in my life have I run out of paper clips. It’s scientifically impossible.

So I’m thinking that there must be a fixed amount of paper clips in the universe. Come on. Have you ever heard of a paper clip factory? No! Because they’re in such abundance, the paper clips that one could buy in a retail store are just repackaged paper clips that have been in circulation since the invention of the paper clip. And if you buy them, you are a sucker.

Does anyone have any corroborating evidence that I may use to support my thesis? Have any other office supplies displayed such behavior?

My research continues…

Monday, November 15

In the know
Here's what you need to know this week in the "human interest" category of the news:

O.D.B. Dead.
Star Jones. Married.
Colin Powell. Gone with the wind.
Scott Peterson. Dead man walking.
59 year old great grandmother. Pregnant.
Barry Bonds. Yawn.

Sunday, November 14

*pours a 40-oz. of Magnum on the sidewalk in honor of Old Dirty Bastard*

Friday, November 12

Deja vu all over again
Fifteen more minutes. That is all that is left in this slow-ass moving Friday.

A few of us just watched the live Scott Peterson verdict. I am actually surprised that they found him guilty. Surprised, but pleased.

Standing there, huddled around the computer screen, reminded me of nearly 10 years ago, waiting for the O.J. criminal verdict to come out. I was a sophomore at OU, and I, along with many students, watched the live verdict on television at our student center. I can't remember what the reaction was when they said he was not guilty. But I do remember, when I left, walking across the college green, only to hear Nakeia*, one of my dorm-mates from freshman year, about two football fields away, screaming at the top of her lungs, "OJ's INNOCENT, Y'ALL!"

Oh my. That girl was a piece of work. I could tell so many stories about her. Like about how she and her friends regularly took a cab to class because they didn't want to walk up the hill from the dorms, or how she and her roommate would go to sleep listening to a CD with one song on repeat, all night long, loud enough for the bass to vibrate everyone's room walls, or how our R.A. knocked on their door and a huge pot smoke cloud wafted out, and the R.A. asked if they were smoking pot, and she said it was incense, and the R.A. believed it. Or how she randomly showed up in one of my econ classes that she wasn't enrolled in, and sat there the entire duration of class wearing headphones and occasionally doing a slight gyration in her seat.

Yeah, I'd tell you all those stories, but they just wouldn't be funny unless you knew her.

Five minutes.
Apologies to anyone who visited the site in the past 10 minutes. I found some quiz thing called "How Sketchy Are You" and I was 41% sketchy, but the HTML code to copy in the quiz was 100% sketchy and overtook my entire blog. So it's gone. Sayonara.
See the light
For nearly 29 years, I have been under the (false! false! false!) impression that Arby's was gross. I had no evidence to back this up, but I've always felt that fast food roast beef was frankly, kind of icky. Maybe I had it when I was younger and disliked it. I can't really recall.

Anyway, that's all changed. I have now realized that Arby's is delicious. I embrace the oven mitt. I high-five it. And I now have a lifetime of Arby-avoiding to make up for.

Believe me, I will make up for it.

Tuesday, November 9

The house Beezlebub built
Well, to lighten the mood a little... we just had a woman call in, she talked to a co-worker of mine, and this woman informed her that she had seen the devil, and that the devil told her that my company owed it to her to build her a house in (an affluent west-of-Cleveland suburb).

I'll have to remember that one the next time I want something. We'll go out to dinner, and when the bill comes, I'll say, "That's OK, I talked to Satan, and he said you'd give us this meal for free."
On most days, I can contain my utter disdain and loathing for the useless co-worker I like to call Bad Lady. But today I cannot.

Today she crossed the line from just being a waste of a good salary and into the realm of Someone Who I Wish Would Fall Into a Snake Pit and Be Strangled By a Boa Constrictor.

Here's the deal. I was working with a client, with whom I have had a decent rapport. Bad Lady was working with a client who was partnering up with my client. So both needed new business cards. I had designed a logo for my client, which then Bad Lady's client wanted on her cards, so I gave B.L. the artwork.

B.L.'s client wanted a slight change to the logo. B.L. didn't feel like making the change, so she told the client that it couldn't be done because I didn't have time to do it.

Thanks. Way to make me the bad guy.

So her client responded that she would just wait until I had time to do it. So I did it -- in about five minutes, which, if B.L. had just asked me to make the change, I would have done it right then and there. She is just a lazy, worthless, piece of...

Yeah. So I'm in a mood today.

Monday, November 8

So I'm scrolling down and looking at all of the headlines on MSN and I see a story that says "Twain treats fans to block party."

And I think to myself, "Wow, that's nice of him. Wait, didn't he die a hundred years ago or something?"

See, I was thinking it was MARK Twain, aka Samuel Clemens, author of such novels as "Tom Sawyer" and "Huckleberry Hound". Instead, it's actually what's-her-name, the Canadian country singer.

My bad.

P.S. You know I was joking about the "Huckleberry Hound", right? I know that it's really called "Sharkelberry Finn."

We're going to be a little grouchy today. "We" meaning me and my stomach.

We indulged in too many chicken wings last night. Mmmm, wings.

Ugh, just the thought of them now makes me want to hurl. I also didn't sleep so good. But I did have a disturbing dream last night -- I have this dream all the time actually -- where I have a major role in a play that is about to open, and I realize that not only do I not know my lines, but I have never known them, and it is too late to learn them, and I am going to make a total and utter fool of myself. Also curiously, I seem to always be in some kind of Shakespearian play. Hmm. What does it all mean?

It probably just means, don't eat wings before you go to bed.

Saturday, November 6

NaNo Update
I do this with much trepidation, but I am posting the beginning of my NaNoWriMo novel. It can be found here, on my auxiliary blog. Please feel free to offer any wisdom. It's going to be a weird, kinda creepy story. Not Stephen King creepy, but maybe a little bit.

UPDATE: The first two chapters are up. You'll have to start at the bottom and work your way up...

Friday, November 5

No one will notice
I've spent much of the afternoon trying to touch up a photo of a curly-haired woman. I'm trying to remove the background between her curls so I can put a different-colored background behind her. Tra-la.

Over the years that I have worked here, I've seen my fair share of odd requests for photo touch-ups. Here are my favorites, the Hall of Fame of touch-ups, so to speak:

1. A woman had one of those eyes that doesn't quite look at you dead on, so that when you're talking to her, you don't know which eye is actually looking at you. She requested that we give her a new eye. This was easier said than done. And it's not like when anyone met her, they wouldn't notice that in her picture she had two normal eyes, and in person, she had one normal eye and one freakish fucked up eye, right?

2. Several requests for removal of something called "turkey neck."

3. The alternative to the Atkins diet: we'll just shear a little bit off your hips and sides.

4. Extreme makeover: tummy tuck, facelift, wrinkle zap, turkey neck removal, hair tame, teeth whitening, boob enhancement.

It's pretty amazing what Photoshop can do sometimes. It's even more amazing what people will ask us to do.

Wednesday, November 3

I don't give a puck
Did anyone know that the NHL (National Hockey League) was on strike?

Moreover, did anyone care?

Just checkin'.
LeBron James for President
It's all good... at least the Cavs haven't traveled down the Spiral of Suckage yet.


Tonight is their home opener, and I'll be there.

I'm sure their season will end up like every Cleveland sports team's season ends... Cleveland is the new Boston.
Yeah Ohio.

Tuesday, November 2

Rock da Vote
I voted today. Did you?
Well, as P-Daddy or Puff Diddy or whatever Sean Combs is calling himself these days says, "Vote, or DIE!!!!!!!"

I don't know if P-Diddy will go door to door to kill you if you don't vote or what, but I wouldn't take that chance. Cause he bad boy for life.

And for the love of god people, check for chads. CHECK FOR CHADS!!!
Gimme some sugar
It's not bad enough that throughout October, we've had a jack-o-lantern in on top of our file cabinet that was constantly filled with candy.

Now, everyone has brought their leftover candy into the office and it has overflowed the jack-o-lantern.

I've eaten so much sugar in the past week I think I can be declared legally dead.

Sunday, October 31

To the wire
I've gotta hand it to the Democrats. They are really rallying the troops, so to speak. Last evening, Bill Clinton called. OK, so it was a recording of Bill, but it was Bill Clinton all the same. My husband made me answer the phone because it was during a crucial point during That Football Game Which Shall Not Be Mentioned, and he thought it was going to be my mom flipping out. It turned out that Bill wanted to thank me/us for our support and to let us know to vote on November 2.

Then we went out to dinner (Mexican!) and when we came back, we had a message. Again, thinking it was my mom with a post TFGWSNBM jubliation message, my husband was wary of playing it. (He roots for That Team in Columbus.) However, it was a very friendly volunteer for the John Kerry campaign, who wanted to make sure that my husband's address on file was current, and if not, he could file a provisional ballot, and told him his polling location, and offered to drive him there.

Lord only knows what is going to happen on Tuesday. Every day I feel different. It's going to be a close race, perhaps it will be too close to call, as was the case in 2000. In fact, Ohio already has some brewing voter controversies. So it won't be a surprise if the winner is determined weeks, if not months, from Tuesday.

Anyway, I'm looking forward to the excitement that is sure to come this week.
Oh, that, and The O.C. premeire.

You got a problem with that?

Saturday, October 30

Joyous tidings
Out of respect, I'm not going to mention a certain college football game. And no, I'm not talking about Ohio v. Kent State, although my husband, a Kent alum, made sure to tell me that his team was killing mine.

Anyhoo, I'm stoked because I discovered that the entire first and second season of one of the coolest, weirdest shows ever is available on DVD. That would be, of course, Space Ghost Coast to Coast. I went ahead and purchased Season One ... can't wait for it to get here.

Friday, October 29

There are clowns. And a mime. And lions and monkeys and elephants. There's even a bearded woman (and it's NOT a costume, btw). I was able to go through their section of the building, and even though the mime started to freak me out, I didn't run away screaming or have to leave the office. My favorite though, is someone who is dressed as a gorilla french maid. I'm not sure what the significance is, but it's pretty amusing.

I really don't understand the big deal about Halloween. I mean, if you're a kid, sure. But once you reach adulthood, what is the appeal of dressing up?

I think the last time I dressed up was sometime in high school. Even though I went to college at one of the biggest Halloween party locations on Earth, I don't think I ever had a costume. Hell, you didn't need one! You just needed riot gear to deal with the drunken crowd.

My favorite costume that I wore, EVER, was when I went as Darth Vader. Yep, I was about 6 or 7, I was OBSESSED with Star Wars, and instead of being the ultra-girly Princess Leia, I went for the heavy breathing black-suited wonder himself. My costume was one of those store-bought, vinyl outfits with the plastic mask. It rocked. If I can find a picture of it I'll post it sometime. I know they exist...

Thursday, October 28

An actual conversation which just took place
Me (to boss): Just wanted to let you know, people are dressing up like clowns tomorrow, so, if I appear to be traumatized, that's why.
Boss: *laughs*
Me: I'm just sayin', I might have to sue for emotional distress.
Boss: Want tickets to the circus?

This is when I notice that he actually has circus tickets in his hand. He's serious.
My worst nightmare is coming true
I just found out that tomorrow, one of the larger departments in our company is decorating their area like a circus tent, and they are all. dressing up. as. clowns.

In case I haven't mentioned it before, I HATE clowns. They creep me out. I can't stand looking at them.

So, co-workers dressed up as clowns is even scarier!!!!

Actually, some of them won't have to dress up too much, if you know what I mean...

Wednesday, October 27

By the numbers
Hours I've been in the office in the past two days: 6
Times I've been inappropriately groped by someone bearing the words "President" or "Vice President" in their title in the past 48 hours: 2
Items on "to-do" list at work: 15
Number of items that have been crossed off in past 48 hours: 0
Number of copies of brochures I must print out and cut by Friday: 100
Number of times I've contemplated throwing myself out my window: *looks for infinity symbol*

"A New Post"
A co-worker with whom I am only marginally acquainted just told me that I was in her dream last night. In this dream, I was we


Uh, that was the last post I wrote.


I have acid reflux.

And also, the keyboard just started to type the last post I did.

I apologize for the inconvenience.

*does hoe-down*

Monday, October 25

A co-worker with whom I am only marginally acquainted just told me that I was in her dream last night. In this dream, I was wearing a "really short" skirt and dancing up a storm, apparently tearing up the dance floor.

Man, I'm much cooler in dreams than I am in real life.
I'm at that age right now where I'm over the whole "being carded" thing. At first, it was cool to be carded at a bar, and then I could whip out my I.D. and prove that yes, I am of legal drinking age, that I can, if I decide, walk up to the bar and order an alcoholic beverage of my choosing. Even a Fuzzy Navel. Or a Schlitz.

But now, there's nothing I hate more than being carded by some punk kid who I know is younger than me. Especially when he is an ass about it.

Hence, Saturday night, we go to our favorite little watering hole/restaurant, and the little punk host dude, who can't be more than 18, asks for our I.D.'s after surveying us up and down. Granted, my husband, who is 30, could pass for 17 if he is wearing a baseball hat. I think I look my age, but maybe with him, I'm younger by association. Anyway, I start to fumble around in my purse for my wallet, when a hostess happens by and says, "Oh, don't worry about them. They're regulars."


I'm a regular somewhere? ("Cheers" theme song begins to play softly in the background) I picture a regular to be a grizzled old man who sits in the same stool at the bar, who comes in every night around the same time, and who always has a yarn and a toothless grin for whoever buys the next round.

I am so not a regular.

But still, when she says it, I feel like, wow. I belong here. This is my hangout. And damn you, 18 year old, for trying to make me prove it to you. Screw you and your I.D.-demanding ways. Now show me to my table. You know, the one where we always sit.

Oh, and the whole carding thing? I know that in a few years, if I'm still getting carded when I go out, that will be a good thing. So I should appreciate it now, right?

Friday, October 22

The to-do list is at 17 items now. Eep.
To remedy this, I must buckle down this afternoon and knock off at least four things from that list.
So I've put on my headphones, and quickly went through my Windows Media Player and made a playlist I'm calling "Shuffle" -- because I'm going to set it to shuffle and see what I get. It's got a little bit of everything from my eclectic music collection, from Elton John to Tupac -- because I'm all about the juxtaposition of cheesy 70's music to cheesy dead gangsta rappers -- and everything in between.

Wish me luck on my quest to diminsh the to-do's.

Thursday, October 21

Reefer Madness
Some of you come here on purpose.
Some of you come here by mistake.

Here are the best recent examples of those who came here by mistake. You were really looking for:

1. gorilla indians suits
2. inappropriately funny Halloween costumes
3. Kansas City hooker hangout
4. lyrics to "Fresh Prince of Belair" (3 separate searches for this!)
5. lyrics to "She's a Bad Mamma Jamma" Carl Carlton
Rain, rain, go away
Come again some other day.
... are there more lines to that little ditty?

The "to-do" list has grown to 13 things, which is more than it's been in months. Yikes. My eye is twitching, too, which is either a factor of a) needing to catch up on sleep; or b) the 13-item "to do" list.

I am listening to my new CD which arrived in the mail yesterday -- it's a brand new, hot-off-the-press live John Mayer cd, which includes some tracks from the show that I was at in August. And one of those tracks is my favorite song of his, which I was stoked that he played live when I saw him, and now I have it on CD to listen to over and over again and annoy my cube mates and also drown out Bad Lady's radio.

I'm about to go brave the lunch room, where predators of carb counting await around every corner. Hopefully I'll remain unscathed.

Wednesday, October 20

Well, I think this year I'm going to give NaNoWriMo a whirl. We'll see how it goes. If it goes well, you'll hear about it and perhaps I'll post my works in progress. If it goes not so well, this will probably be the first and last mention of it.

In other news, GO RED SOX!!!!!


Oh wait, he got traded, didn't he?

Who cares. It's still fun to yell at the top of my lungs.

High times
I am buzzed off Sharpie fumes.
Why, you ask?
'Tis a sordid tale involving a video shoot and making cue cards, at the expense of my already-sparse brain cells. Hundreds are dying as I write this post. Goodbye, brain cells, you served me well. Off you go to the place where dead brain cells go. Where is that, exactly? I would usually had a snappy answer, such as, making a reference to some other person with a lack of brain cells, like George W., or Johnny Moseley, but I'll just leave it at that for now.

Who has a Twinkie?

Tuesday, October 19

Springer's Final Thoughts
The meeting that we had was very p.c., very non-hostile. Although I had a couple of Ally McBeal moments where I envisioned myself leaping across the table to strangle Bad Lady. It was mostly a lot of "we all need to work on being more respectful" and horse puckey like that.

I was secretly hoping for a knock-down drag-out girl fight.

Oh well.
I can smell some steak cooking, and it smells awesome. The smell is wafting into my office from the nearby Longhorn steakhouse. It's making me ask myself the age-old question, "which fast food establishment will get my hard-earned money today?"

It's feeling like it might be a Subway day.

(abrupt change of subject to follow)

So, we're watching the Sox/Yanks game last night, and just feeling horribly for the Sox fans who are just going to be let down in the end. They cut to a shot of some of Boston's finest fans, yelling their little hearts out, and I say that I wish I could imitate a Boston accent, so I could come up with insults to yell at the TV. My husband, in a pretty damn good Boston accent, goes, "Hey Jetaahhh. I heahhh youahhhh sistah's dick is biggah than youahhhs!"

And there it is. The man I married, everyone.

Monday, October 18

Do Not Call
Dear Sarah/Debbie/Karen, or whatever the hell your name was, the Perky OU Senior Who Called Me Tonight On The Pretense of Updating the Alumni Database But Really Wanting Me to Send Lots and Lots of Money to Fund Various Things Such as Technology:

I had a really, really bad day today. I couldn't sleep last night, and so I'm tired. And grouchy.

And also, you interrupted taco night. Which is every Monday, for future reference.

So forgive me if I laughed out loud when you asked if I would be comfortable with a donation level of $500. I probably would have stifled the chuckle if you had caught me on any other day. But unlucky for you, you picked today to dial my number and get me on the phone. I humored you for a minute, answering your stupid questions, but then I turned cold. Pity, really. I could have been the older sister you never had. I really felt like we were beginning to bond when you asked me if the address you had on file was current, and was I still employed at Company X, even though you pronounced the name wrong.

So Mindy/Suzy/Laurie, I apologize.

But you're still not getting my money.
Faux friends
Here's a piece of advice from me to you. If you're going to do any sort of painting in your house involving a faux finish, be prepared to wait for it to dry. And wait.

And wait.

And then wait some more.

Still not dry? That's because you have to wait a little longer.

Kind of dry but still a little sticky in spots? WAIT.

And then for good measure -- you got it -- wait.

The can said at least 24 hours, but the job was finished on Friday afternoon and as of this morning, it is still not dry. And my house is a motherloving wreck. Argh!

Add to that we have the latest installment of work drama. Tomorrow afternoon we're having a meeting, just us wimmin folk, plus my boss, to "air out" some "issues" that we "have" with "each other." One of my coworkers, we'll just call her Bad Lady, went in to my boss' office to bitch about another coworker, who I'll arbitrarily call Screech, this morning.

So instead of dealing with those two head on, he's dragging all of us into it. Joy! I don't know what set off B.L. this time, but it is apparently a big freaking deal.

Here's my dilemma. There are so many things I'd love to say to Bad Lady, given the right arena. However, my little inner Jiminy Cricket is saying to "be the better person" and "remain professional but concerned" and all that b.s.

What I'd really like to do is go full-out Jerry Springer on her ass.


Friday, October 15

Birthday greetings
To my favorite member of the Jackson family, Tito.

Thursday, October 14

What lies beneath
My husband just called to tell me that he moved the stove in order to strip the wallpaper from the wall behind it.

What he found underneath the stove:
11 plastic milk rings
4 twisty-ties
1 balled up piece of paper
1 pretzel stick
1 toy mouse

How did these items get there?
Hmm. I wonder...

Tuesday, October 12

Monkey business
Oh yeah. So we're in Chicago, and we're walking through Lincoln Park, and so we decide to go into the zoo and look around.

We go into the gorilla house, and there's a crowd gathered around one of the glass-enclosed pens. Aw, it's a mommy gorilla! Holding her baby! It's so cute! Aw, the baby is so small!

It was adorable...

Right up until the moment where the mother gorilla started to urinate and then cupped her hand under the pee stream, got a big handful, and then drank it.

And that, my friends, is the difference between humans and apes.
So I'm back...
Back again. Guess who's back. Tell a friend.

The wedding was really nice. It was at a person's house in Lincoln Park. The house was like a museum. I bet that one piece of art on the walls cost more than my entire house does. OK, maybe not, but close. It was a beautiful house, but I'd never want to live there. It wasn't homey. You know what I mean? It was nice to look at, but there was no place just to kick back and watch TV, or put your feet up. But anyway, it was a very nice wedding.

We had a good time in Chicago, too. We went to Second City. We used to have a Second City in Cleveland but then it shut down, which is too bad, because I thought the Cleveland show was better than the Chicago show.

Then yesterday, we had the first awful rendition of The Raking of the Leaves. Oh, the humanity! And in a week it will be like we never raked. Then after The Raking of the Leaves, I decided that I hadn't killed my back and arms enough, so I decided to punish myself further with [Knights Who Say "Neet" Voice] The Trimming of the Shrubbery [/KWSNV]. We had a rather wild [KWSNV] shrubbery [/KWSNV] on the side of the house that needed to be tamed, and so I took up the hedge trimmers and went to town on it, much to the detriment of my already aching muscles (if you even want to call them that -- I have no arm strength whatsoever).

To further our domestic adventure we went to the paint store and bought several shades of paint for our kitchen. My husband has the dubious assignment of stripping the wallpaper and painting our kitchen this week while he's off work. I guess I'm glad I'm in the office while this task is taking place! Which is very frightening.

Friday, October 8

Some thoughts on Survivor... and some other stuff
First off, Da fucking ROCKED. He was all business, even with a tribe full of women at his disposal for 24 hours. Da was the man. And frankly, Da has been the highlight of this so far dismal season of Survivor.

Second of all, WHAT THE HELL is the men's strategy? Unless it's Sarge's strategy, and in that case, it's freaking brilliant, to eliminate all physical threats other than himself.

And it looks like we've got a tribe shakeup coming next week. Those are always fun. I'm hoping for a tribe which includes Sarge, the alpha male of Lopevi, and Twila, the alpha male of Yasur.

Now onto other things! I'm leaving for Chicago today, one of my high school friends is getting married, so we are spending the weekend there. I also took Friday and Monday off work.

Downside: Bad Lady is also heading to Chicago, for different reasons, but will be in the same general area as me. Now, I know Chicago is a big city and all, but YOU KNOW I'm going to run into her sometime this weekend.

Hopefully when I return to the office on Tuesday, things will be a lot calmer than they were this week. We'll see about that!

Tuesday, October 5

In brief
I've been extremely busy at work, but I did want to take a minute to post that today, Bad Lady is wearing a pink fishnet poncho, over an all-black ensemble, as well as calf-length black leather boots.

It's very... Nouveau Hooker.

Friday, October 1

Hoopla, the aftermath
My wish came true! IBL hula hooped! It was horrific! But he didn't cause bodily injury to himself or to others, so it wasn't quite as fun as I'd imagined.

They attempted to break us apart into mixed tables with different departments so we'd be forced to socialize with other people *shudder* but I wasn't having any part of that. DO NOT FORCE ME TO SOCIALIZE WITH MY COWORKERS!!!!!!! RAWRRRRRRR!!!!!


At least I got some free food out of the deal.
I will post more archive stuff later on today, but there is a more pressing situation that is on the radar screen that I must address:

We are having a lunch picnic this afternoon at the office. There's a huge tent set up on the lawn, and from my office window, I can view the preparations. The grill is going, I see a bunch of burgers and dogs out there...

... And also some hula hoops.

There are about six or seven hula hoops in a pile on the lawn... as if there is going to be some sort of hula hooping contest.

First of all, I will not be hula hooping, not unless a hefty sum of cash is exchanged, in the 7-figure range. Second of all, I can think of several coworkers I do not want to see hula hooping. In fact, I can't think of anyone I'd like to see twirling their hips around trying to keep the plastic hoop up. Except maybe Incompetent But Likeable, just because I know he'd end up launching the hoop into the tent and the tent would collapse and fall into the grill and catch fire and the whole picnic would be ruined.

Actually, I might just watch the picnic from the safety of my window. I'll keep you posted on this situation as it develops!
Great Moments in Sketch Factor History, part troix
But first, this news:
A member of the Cleveland Indians pitching staff was shot in the leg while on the team bus, leaving Kaufman stadium in Kansas City.

You think that's weird? He was dressed as a USC cheerleader and would have been injured more had he not been donning white go-go boots.

This was part of a hazing ritual that the Indians (and maybe other teams) have every year wherein the rookies are forced to show themselves in public wearing all sorts of humiliating costumes. This poor soul, Kyle Denney, was in drag for this purpose when the shooting incident occurred.

Or so they would have you believe. *raises eyebrow*

Now, without further ado, here are more snippets...

One of my most-hated songs EVER makes its appearance in this post from February 23, 2004:

For reasons unbeknownst, Bad Lady's radio is extra loud this morning. So right now, I'm being treated to:

If you like Pina Colada
Getting caught in the rain
If you're not into yoga
If you have half a brain

It's too early in the morning for this shit. Really, it's never a good time for the Pina Colada song.

It's status quo in the office, as documented on February 27, 2004:

Status Report
Eye: still twitching frequently.

Incompetent but Likeable: on the verge of going postal, and no one can figure out why. Although he did have an outburst at my desk about a certain management person being a "hillbilly" so I assume that his disgruntled postal worker behavior has something to do with that.

Bad Lady Crisis du Jour: Finding a pair of Ugg boots on e-Bay for her daughter (ha!!!)

Just thought you'd like to know.

Most of you know that I love all reality television. It makes me feel better about my own pathetic existence. But I missed what was arguably the best twist ever in a reality show, called "Average Joe" (3/2/04):

I walked into work trying hard to keep a straight face this morning. That's because I had just heard about the "Average Joe" finale. They were talking about it on the radio this morning and I have to say, the "bomb" that Larissa dropped? BEST. TWIST. EVER.

For those of you who didn't watch the show (I didn't either, so don't feel too bad), apparently, Larissa picked the "Hot Joe" and then had to make a stunning confession to him about someone she dated in her past.

Wait for it... wait for it...


THE Fabio.

I can't believe it's not... Fabio.

And, what's even better, the Hot Joe freaked out and dumped her! Oh, how I wish I'd seen it.

We discover that Christmas is every day of the year around our house, thanks to our cat, Domino (3/4/04):

If we ever figure out the elusive language of animals and are able to communicate with them, the first thing I am going to ask my cat Domino is going to be in regard to the fetching of the Christmas stockings.

Ever since we took down all the Christmas decorations and boxed them all up and put them in the Scary Basement (that section of the basement where I fear to tread), the stockings have been finding their way back upstairs, specifically, into our bedroom. We'll wake up in the morning and the Stocking Fairy will have brought them back. We'll take them down to the Scary Basement again but somehow they always end up back upstairs.

This was going on for awhile with some Halloween devil horns, until I threw them away because red glitter from the devil horns were turning up all over my living room carpet, in the kitchen, in the bathtub (a favorite Domino hangout) and in our bed.

There have been other objects retrieved from the Scary Basement, including a dirty sponge, a lint trap, and a huge ass bag of rubber bands.

I'm sure he's just trying to be helpful -- why would we put such useful items downstairs when we can enjoy them in the middle of the living room floor? What were we thinking?

So I think we'll just keep celebrating Christmas until Dom decides we can move on.

A problem plaguing many Americans is that pesky fitted bed sheet. My take on it, from March 9, 2004:

One thing I noticed during Sunday night's hotel stay, and that I've noticed on prior hotel stays, is that most hotels have forgone the fitted sheet on the bed, and instead have put another flat sheet to cover the mattress.

I am notoriously a tosser and turner. More so when I'm not sleeping. So on Sunday, by about three in the morning, the sheet had slipped, bringing my person into direct contact with the hotel mattress.

I've seen Oprah. I know that the mattress is a breeding ground for creepy crawlies, undesirable stains, and untold diseases. Even in nice hotels. That fitted sheet is like a layer of protection, a barrier between me and those unmentionables. I don't want to be rolling around on that, not even in a rubber suit.

And speaking of the fitted sheet, I have never, ever, EVER been able to fold that thing. In our linen closet right now there's a shapeless blob that could possibly be a fitted sheet, but either myself or my husband probably abandoned trying to fold it and just shoved it on a shelf.

As elusive as it might be, the fitted sheet is my friend. When it's not there, I take note.

This isn't the same without the photo, which I think I have deleted off my photobucket, but I stand by my decision, also from March 9:

My husband recently posed the question to me if I'd rather wake up in the morning with 12 inches of snow on the ground or wake up next to [entertainment reporter] Cojo.

I chose the snow.

Y tu?

Sometimes I make bad jokes, and then sometimes I make REALLY bad jokes (3/12/04):

I guess Colby didn't know jack about what was going to go down at Tribal Council.

Get it? Colby? Jack?It sounded much funnier in my head.

OK. Not really.

It never fails to amaze me some of the stupid questions I get. You'd think that I would not be surprised by this, but there's always someone who can outdo the former person in stupidity. An example (3/16/04):

My boss pulls me out of a meeting because someone at our parent company is having trouble with a CD I sent them. This is the second CD I sent because they said the first one I sent was blank.

The contents of the CD are one executable file, sort of like a Power Point presentation but done in a different program, but it should open and one should be able to use the arrow key to look at the different slides.

So I pretty much know before I even pick up the phone that they just don't know to use the arrow key.

"It won't open," she says. "I just get a white screen."
"OK," I explain, "Now all you have to do is hit the RIGHT ARROW KEY to start the presentation."
"I'm clicking it and it won't do anything!"
"The RIGHT arrow key?"
"Yeah, I'm clicking it."
"Clicking? Are you clicking the MOUSE?"
"OK, don't click the mouse. On your KEYBOARD, there are four directional keys. Press the RIGHT arrow key."
"Oh! Now it's working!"

Yes, folks, I work miracles here on a daily basis.

And we really think this marriage is going to work out? (3/18/04):

Rather than the soft romantic sappy music the Survivor producers decided to play during the Ambuh/Baaaaston Rob "love" scene, I was expecting more of a "bamp chicka wah wah" kind of thing. Was it just me? I mean, are we to believe that Rob is actually capable of having feelings for her? "Ambuh is slammin'," he says. "... And huh ass is smokin' too." My heart is a-twitter.

More amazing assininity! Funny, this project never panned out. And it would have been such a great campaign, too! (3/19/04):

I just got out of a meeting with someone else, who seemed normal enough, until I reached a point in my portfolio where I had a postcard with a picture of a cute bunny on the front. She lit up. "I have rabbits," she told me. "My husband is a magician."

Trying hard to contain the "huhhhhh?" factor, I said, "Oh, really?" And then before I could stop myself, I said, "Well, have you ever considered having photos taken with the magician's hat and the rabbit? We could say something about 'working magic' in your service to your clients... ?"

Needless to say, she is totally geeked about the idea.

On March 24, I got my 5000th visitor, but as it was me, it was a non-event. I'll document many more non-events, as this look back in Sketch Factor history continues!

Thursday, September 30

Great moments in Sketch Factor history, part the second
I have just finished eating a turkey bacon guacamole sub from Subway that may have been made by Jesus himself. Thank you, Jesus, for you have done good. And I'm feeling slightly less wired, and much less likely to pull the collar of my shirt over my head and scream "I AM THE GREAT CORNHOLIO! I NEED TEEPEE FOR MY BUNGHOLE! DO NOT ANGER MY BUNGHOLE!!!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU THREATENING ME???????"

With that being said, here are some more blasts from the past...

December 2, 2003: I get my 100th visitor, and as a prize, I create the stunning fish graphic you now see on Green Tuna's blog.

From time to time, I like to annoy my readers by posting the lyrics to whatever song is stuck in my head. My philosophy on bad song lyrics is that if I have to suffer, everyone must suffer with me. Here is such an example, from December 3:

Another Postcard
Some chimps in swim suits!
Some chimps in jack boots!
Some chimps in hard hats!
Some chimps who love cats!...

Since that song is caught in my head now, suffer with me. Suffer, I say! Suffer! Even though I love chimps, and between my co-workers and I, we refer to each other as chimps (as in, a chimp could do our job -- or the classic, someone called our department and asked, "what chimp at corporate wrote this ad?" -- and the person who wrote the ad took the call and was pissed) but, this song has got to go. BNL done bad by me.

In this entry, dated December 9, 2003, I ponder an age-old question...

Wondering...Where you live, are Pet stores ALWAYS either next door to, or in the same plaza as, a Chinese buffet? Because where I live, it's like that everywhere. Pet Supplies Plus? Right next to Thai Gourmet. Pet Smart, just a few doors down from China King. Etc. Etc. Etc. Is it a strip mall thing, or is there some other kind of disturbing connection??? I've been wondering about that.

Casual Friday goes to hell, as noted in a post from December 11, 2003:

Have a cup of cheer (with a chaser of bitterness)
As a special holiday treat, we received a memo this morning from management, saying that casual Friday has "deteriorated" from its original intent and thus, they are revising the policy and eliminating jeans, tennis shoes, sweatshirts, sweatpants, t-shirts... basically my entire casual wardrobe. They would like us to wear "slacks" and sports shirts (??), mock turtlenecks and sweaters. Well, other than what I wear Monday through Thursday, I don't own any of the previous items. I have sweaters, but they are sweaters I'd wear with jeans. Mock turtlenecks? Puh-leeze.

This is not going down well in the office. Bad Lady crumpled up her memo and slammed it into the trash can. Which kind of make me chuckle.

I prepare for one of the most painful days of the year on December 12, 2003:

Deck the freakin' hallsToday is that magical day, that special time of year, where ye olde office mates gather in a party room at a local hotel and consume mad alcohol, undercooked meat, veggies and dip, and mass quantities of cheese and crackers. That's right, folks, it's the annual company holiday party! Beginning at 2 this afternoon, this festival of debauchery will feature a drunken escapade by at least one person, on the dance floor. This usually involves saying someone is "hot" and trying to dance with them. And it's usually a president of the company, who is happily married, and who is unhappily mortified at the experience.

It's always somewhat embarrassing for everyone in attendance to see the booty shaking that goes on at these affairs; at least it is for me. When I witness the booty shaking, I'm always so horribly curious about it, that I can't stop staring. Sure, they are having a good time, but at what cost? Do you really want to be known for grinding on the accounting manager? Not so much. Because that's the stuff that is never forgotten. It's kept alive by the likes of the Diet Club, who sit in the lunch room the next Monday and repeat to anyone who will listen, "Did you see so-and-so on the dance floor?" *giggle* And then it finally gets back to you that you're the topic of conversation. You vaguely remember dancing, but not with whom or for how long.

Friends, don't let this happen to you! Don't be that person at the holiday party! Don't tell your boss you think he's hot! Don't hit on the catering staff and make them try to dance with you!

I have seen all of these things, and I can tell you, it ain't pretty.

After Saddaam Hussein is found in his little hole in the ground, I have a case of mistaken identity: (12/15/03)

How many timesam I going to click onto today and think that the shaggy-bearded man is Rupert Boneham, when in actuality it is Sadaam? Not that they look alike. I just see the beard and think Rupert.

Don't ever leave me alone in the office, or hijinx like these will ensue: (12/23/03):

Hello(o...o...o...o...*echoes through empty office*). No one here but me. Bad Lady went to pick up her pinkeye perscription and the other two people that weren't already on vacation, have gone to lunch and to pick up a Honeybaked Ham.
*does McCauley Culkin "Home Alone" face*
So what does one do when alone in the office?
Spin around in the chair for a while?
*dizzily picks self up off floor*
Sing along loudly to "Feliz Navidad" when it comes on radio?
*prospero ano, felicidad... ha ha!*
See if I can still do a cartwheel down the aisle of cubicles?
*decides against it*
Peer, prairie dog style, over the top of cubicle wall?

One of my favorite blogging topics is what I am eating for lunch. It IS the highlight of my day, usually. This entry from December 30, 2003, makes me sad because it's been months since I've seen Awesome Wendy's Grandma, which makes me wonder if she died.

So what should I get to eat? I'm thinking Subway maybe. Wendy's is always a possibility, and then I can see Awesome Wendy's Grandma. She works at the drive-thru at Wendy's, and whenever you pull up to get your food, she is always happy to see you. "Hi, honey!!!!!" she says to me each time I pull up. And then makes some comment on the weather. If it's raining she has a plastic shower cap-like thing over her Wendy's baseball hat. If it's snowing she's bundled up in a scarf she probably knitted herself. She is just so cute, I can't stand it. That settles it. I'm going to Wendy's.


Yay for Wendy's. Boo for no Awesome Wendy's Grandma at the drive-thru window. Instead, was greeted by younger, slightly less peppy, non-grandma. *pouts* But my mandarin chicken salad was fantastic.

New Year's Eve was quite memorable due to a certain bar patron. Meatball Guy, this excerpt goes out to you. Hope you're still rockin' the meatballs.

An honorary Sketch Factor awardgoes to the bar where my husband's band played on New Year's Eve. It was a combination of a Kent State student/ townie bar, and since the students were on break, it was mostly townies. Not any townies, mind you. Kent borders on a very rural, shotgun-totin', Confederate flag hangin' area. The crowd was mostly comprised of those kinda folks.

Tickets were $12 and featured the music of three bands. Owen's band was #2 for the evening. A "buffet dinner" was also included. Now when I think buffet, I am thinking, sneeze guard, serving dishes, line up nicely with your plates, wait your turn, etc. Nah. Not here. The buffet consisted of several crock pots lined up on a table. Plus another table with a veggie tray and a third table of chips, pretzels and nachos.

The crock pots really skeeved me out, but faced with the prospect of it being 8:00 and not eating until 2004, I threw caution to the wind.

The food actually ended up being really, really good. There were these fried chicken legs that were to die for. The meat was so tender, it was falling off the bone. And they were cooked in a crock pot -- which was a novel way to cook them, at least I thought. Then there were these meatballs, which provided the major humor for the night. As my friend Amy and I were helping ourselves to the crock pot buffet, we noticed that this guy, who himself resembled a meatball, was piling the meatballs onto his plate and nothing else. We both looked at each other with a "what the hell" expression, but thought nothing of it. I got a couple of the meatballs out, and when we got back to our table, I sampled them and they were outstanding. "What was with that dude with all the meatballs?" she said. "I don't know, but they sure are good," I said. And that was that.

Maybe 20 minutes later, we decided to go up for seconds. I went to the meatballs immediately and joked that "I better get some before they're gone!" Then I move on to the other crock pots o' goodness. No sooner did I leave the meatball area then here he is again, Meatball Guy, filling his plate with MORE meatballs! I swear, he must have taken 20. So I nudge Amy and both of us bust out laughing uncontrollably. It was one of those situations that I immediately felt bad about because I'm pretty sure he knew we were laughing at him. But it was just too funny. Dude sure loved his meatballs.

And it was even funnier when we saw him get up to make a THIRD trip to get more meatballs and come back with even more!

Then after that, he disappeared. I surmised he was probably on the toilet. Amy guessed that he probably died of a heart attack. So no one knows what became of Meatball Guy. And no one else thought it was that funny, except for us.

More pearls of wisdom (Jan 4, 2004):

Contrary to what you may have thought, it is possible to eat too much french onion dip. Take my word for it.

From Jan. 5 -- interesting to note here, that the new person in question was our dearly beloved Screech. Also on this day in Sketch Factor history, the 2000th person pays a visit, although they are of unknown origin.

Change is bad. Bad! I get cranky when my pen runs out of ink and I have to find a new one. Major change really puts me out of whack. Well, today at work, we have a new person starting. (mental note: be on best behavior for rest of day) It's just always weird, adjusting to a new person, and people are moving around desks, and it just throws me off. Even though it won't directly affect me, it will just take some getting used to.

On January 6, I get an interesting early birthday card from my boss...

I got a birthday card from my boss today. Mind you, my birthday is Saturday. The message printed on the inside of the card said, "Wishing you all the fun one birthday can hold!" but my boss crossed out the word "birthday" and wrote "monkey" instead. We have a weird sense of humor around here. But I do love monkeys.

Just because I still think this is ridiculous that this happened, and because it features a moment of IBL eccentricity, here is the post from January 9:

Rah Rah
Just when you think you've heard everything... there's a big meeting today for all the managers of our company (this is about 50 people). Apparently, our company had its best year ever last year (which is the topic of the meeting), and so yesterday I spent much of my day making posters and signs proclaiming the greatness.

We found out at the end of the day yesterday that one of our managers somehow finagled the Cleveland Cavaliers cheerleaders to come to the meeting.

The whole thing is sickening. Not even from a standpoint of being demeaning to the women in the room (which I think it is; and a majority of our managers ARE women), but sickening from a standpoint of being wasteful. They will tell us to our faces that "there's not enough money in the budget" to give us decent pay increases or to get something that we really need for our department, but they'll blow wads of cash to get the cheerleaders to come to a business meeting.

Addendum: My day was made when Incompetent but Likeable came over to my desk and did an awkward version of the old cheer "2 bits, 4 bits, 6 bits a dollar!" I told him he should have been the head cheerleader.

Proof that it really takes a lot to come between me and my fast food lunches (Jan. 14, 2004):

So, yesterday I decide to get lunch from Quizno's. I'm waiting in line to pay, and the cashier is talking to the guy in front of me, for a LONG time. Finally the guy leaves, and she says to me, "I'm so sorry. He works in this plaza and we were just talking about how the Hong Kong Buffet was on the news last night for 'Dirty Dining.'" The Hong Kong Buffet is two doors down from Quizno's. "Dirty Dining" is one of those hidden camera investigative reporting pieces where reporters go into restaurants and look for health code violations.

The Quizno's cashier tells me that the Hong Kong Buffet was reported as being "filthy" and that "the entire plaza is infested with roaches." But she assures me that it is definitely not true, and that she is insulted that the report would say that.

I nod my head and empathize with her but I'm getting more and more uneasy, even though I pay for my sub and leave. Hmm, I say to myself, do I really want to eat this sub after that information has been divulged?

The answer is yes.

More annoying song lyrics (come on, you know you love me when I do this!) from January 14,2004:

Currently playing on Bad Lady's radio: the UB40 classic, "Red Red Wine!"
In case you need a refesher on how the lyrics go:
Red red wine you make me feel fine, make me feel fine, all of de time
Red red wine (unintelligible) monkey (unintelligible) on the street car line
The line broke, the monkey got choked, all went to heaven on a little row boat

Feel free to curse my name as this song stays with you for several hours.

My husband proves himself to be a regular little Martha Stewart (minus the insider trading and jail time at "Camp Cupcake") in times of crisis (Jan. 19, 2004):

I dropped an entire dozen of eggs on the kitchen floor yesterday as I was unpacking groceries. It was one of those slow-motion moments where I tried to stop it from happening, and then "oooooooohhhhhhhhhhssssssssshhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiittttttttttt" as they hit the floor, one by one.

Owen, who was outside shoveling the driveway, happened to come inside seconds later, and to my utter shock (and awe!) , he was the face of calm, and said he knew how to handle the situation. He poured salt on the mess, and it solidified the yokes, making them easier to clean up. Sure, it was gross, but it was a lot better than trying to mop up yoke.

I married the right man.

I impress a company President by pretending to be busy... (1/22/04):

Yesterday I learned a very important lesson in business: even if you aren't doing anything important, if you look like you are, it might fool the right people.

Remember a couple weeks ago when I had to organize that photo shoot and run around like a freak trying to get people to come get their picture taken? Other than finding people and forcing them to say cheese, there really was nothing to this job. It just ate several hours of my day, and I did a lot of standing around with my notepad, watching the shoot and trying to figure out who to get next.

Anyway. My boss called me into his office last night and told me that one of the big presidents of our company, who was one of the people who got photographed that day, hired our photographers to come to Pittsburgh to some convention they are putting on. And she also said, "get that girl who was directing the photo shoot [me!!!] to come and direct it here, too."

Hee. So standing around and looking official has bought me a two-day trip to Pittsburgh. I guess I should be flattered that she thought that I was "directing." Actually, I find the whole thing comical. I mean, I had nothing to do with the photographers other than bringing them their subjects.

I guess I can add "photography director" to my resume?

It's kind of an "Office Space" moment.

More to come, I promise!