Happy Halloween!!



I hope everyone has a fun and safe Halloween! I can't wait to see all the little ones in their costumes! And I can't wait to eat left over candy.

I'm Good Here Thanks...

My mother is spending 4 days with my brother and his family. She has only been there for 2 hours and they have already been in 3 fights. My mother got ill on the train and my brothers kids have the flu. She has called me 5 times to report on the ill health of everyone in his house. And they wondered why I chose to stay home and work.

Yeah, I cried about a sex doll. And I wasn't the only one....

Go see Lars and the Real Girl and if you don't cry too, then you're a heartless bastard. Or you have faulty tear ducts. If the latter is the case see a doctor. Then go see the movie.

Getting Through Halloween With Your Brains Intact


Check out this funny link for surviving a Zombie attack. Thanks Stanley for sending it to me. Having a Zombie free Halloween is always a goal of mine.

Food Rules...

I don't have many food rules in life. Don't eat mayo casserole (or mayo pb and j, or any large quantity of mayo). Don't eat eggs that are undercooked. No cooked carrots, cauliflower or raisins ever. And lastly, (and this is the life saver) never eat sushi or salad at Chinese Buffet.

On Tuesday I tried to break the sushi rule and have a piece while eating Chinese Buffet. I really wanted it but 2 things kept the experience from being enjoyable. First is that I was having a late dinner and it hit me that I never saw any food being replaced or even taken away due to being out too long. Which made me wonder how long my roll had been out (I guessed about 14 hours). The second thing was that my piece was covered in Roe. Normally this gives me a slight twinge (because Roe falls under my under cooked eggs category). As I went to take a bite a clip from "Finding Nemo" enters my brain. I was done. The thought of eating Nemo ruined my Sushi experience, and all I could do was seek solace in the almond cookies and weird sugar covered peanuts (which tasted like peanuts, but did not have the texture of a peanut).

Last night I decided to once again brave sushi. There is a place right up the street from work that is a sushi bar, so I braved it with a co-worker. What we didn't know at the time was that it was a fast food Japanese restaurant who offered drive-thru sushi. Weird. The food was not half bad, but again I could not eat the Roe. Looks like I have another food rule. I really hope this doesn't generalize and I start to see Rocky when I eat chicken or Otis when I have a hamburger.

Why NASA Will Never Be In My Future, And Why Gatorade May Also Be Out...

As a kid, I thought astronauts were the cool. I mean really, they get a sweet suit and helmet, and the chance to float in a space ship. Even though they seemed cool I never wanted to be one (not even a little bit), due to several intense fears I associated with space travel. One fear was that the cable would break as I was trying to fix something outside the craft and I would die floating slowly away. Given my very limited abilities to fix anything it is very unlikely I would have been named head fixer-upper. But if in some parallel universe I managed to become a space gal, then it only makes sense that they would call on me to grab my hot pink wrench and fix the shuttle.

I am also not totally convinced that I won't just float off the moon either (I don't care how "powerful" the moon boots are reported to be). Lastly, (and most important in my book) I had fears about the bathroom situation in space-- you know it can't be too private or even slightly dignified (a goal in life has always been to put off wearing adult diapers for as long as possible, but that's just me). I now have one more reason never to sign up for NASA.

On Friday the early morning news program in my area reported a story in which NASA is coming up with plan to turn urine into drinking water (either plain or Gatorade flavored). While the thought of floating aimlessly in space is scary, having to drink my own pee to survive is just as yucky (even if does taste like punch flavored Gatorade). You know an even crappier (pun intended) job is the person who is the taste tester for the initial trial runs in the purification system.

“I consider looseness with words no less of a defect than looseness of the bowels”—John Calvin

At work I try really hard to be circumspect and respectful of others. For all my talking or long winded blogging I am even fairly quiet at work (or I try to be).

I work in a large organization and there are many people here I know in passing only. Which makes it even more embarrassing when I have word diarrhea of my own. Mine comes in the form of inappropriate jokes to people I hardly know (I wouldn't call it harassment, but I can't wait for my friend to finish law school so I can retain her services). Yesterday, I was speaking to someone in passing about a luncheon I attended a few days ago. Apparently, at the luncheon I was seated next to a retired gynecologist, and the lady with whom I was speaking mentioned he was her OBGYN for many years. She then said it felt like he didn't remember her. To which I said, "I would imagine that in his business it's not the faces he focused on, but he might remember the vagina's."

Call Me Irresponsible

You wouldn't be alone. This is what I was called today at work by my boss's boss. All because I didn't respond to email she sent me either today or last week. To be fair, when I spoke to her today her exact words (after I said I had been locked out of the email system for the past week) were, "(polite laughter) Oh and I was thinking you were just irresponsible." Okay so that actually doesn't sound any better. I too gave a polite laugh and assured her that as soon as I was able to I would be responsive to all email requests. When I hung up the phone I was in shock for a second. Am I getting the rep as the irresponsible one? And for something that is totally out of my control. I mean I know I won't get the rep for being the mouth (after all I do work with McGee), and she will also win for most empathetic and passionate about her work. But I thought I would be in the running for helpful or considerate.

The truly messed up aspect of this is that I can't even tell the IT person myself that my email is screwed because he is only available by email. I can't tell you how many times today I tried to tell people about my email woes and their response was, "well just send support an email." McGee herself many times today tried to have me check my email to confirm different things. When the IT came today to work on different issues, he was not directed to my area (even though I spoke with the person in charge of directing the IT guy twice in the morning). By the afternoon I called her again only to be told that she forgot I needed a computer tech because she forgot I had a cubicle (disregarding the fact I can't get in the system).

I felt like today was like a weird episode of "the Office." I ate lunch at my desk so I could spend my lunch half-hour walking to clear my head. Unfortunately this plan sucked on several levels. First, I missed a noon meeting (which I thought had been moved to 10am-I guess you can call me unreliable. Throw in undependable too). Second my quick lunch was a light meal of eggplant parm and noodles. Which made my peaceful walk more of a Michael Scott fun run moment. Luckily, there was no puke involved in my exercise. Or nipple chafing.

When I was talking to Carl his advice was that tomorrow had to be better, if for no other reason than it would not be Monday. Here's hoping. I also had to laugh as I relayed a comment McGee made to me when she came into my area to talk about all the talking going on in her area. She said, "I just don't like to talk in the office area." A major lie and I am surprised she wasn't hit with lightening or smote as she stood. I think she was just mad that everyone in her area was talking about Britney Spears, and not their cats or crazy neighbors (which are her hot topics). Here's to whatever the rest of the week brings my way.

The Latest Scoop About My Co-Workers

I had a weird smell day and I finally figured it out. A co-worker smelled like cat litter. Before I narrowed it down to her I was wondering if there was an office pet no one told me about.

Thoughts On Dusty Eggs and Still Having It
This weekend I became 1 year closer to turning 30. Looking back on the past year I have a lot to be happy about. This was the year I graduated and got a job with grown up benefits. I have not had a lot of negative thoughts on turning 30. I know this can be a hard year for some people, but for me 26 was a hard year. As a child that was the year I imagined myself married and with a child of my own (or more than one). I imagine 30 as more of a year I will do something incredible. Like have my ovaries crumble into a pile of dust. Let me 'splain...

Every year I have dinner with my friends. This is a celebration I treasure. Usually. This year brought a little something special. I have a friend who suffers from diarrhea of the mouth (let's call her McGee). It's an unfortunate disease but she is able to keep it under control most of the time. She is older than myself, and struggles with the expectations from her younger years. During dinner someone asked me if I was nervous about the upcoming 30th. I asked if I should be (trying to be funny and keep it light). That's when McGee broke in and said that most women are terrified about turning 30 because that's when they know they've lost all the good child bearing years. She then went into detail about how old and decrepit my eggs would become in 363 days (as she was talking I swear my eggs shriveled a little in horror of their impending doom). She then asked if I ever thought about donating or freezing my eggs. At least if I donated them, she said, I would get some cash. I looked around at my friends (who seemed strangely silent to me--which is a side effect of her disease) and stated that everyone was welcome to join me at the egg clinic (if such a thing exists) for my 30th. We could have a picnic as I unload my damaged goods.

Needless to say this got me thinking. Am I becoming old and decrepit before my time? Am I dusty? But at dinner the next night I found out I still had it.* As I was trying to find a table to have dinner with my father, I told the waitress I could sit anywhere. "Anywhere you say? This girl (yes he called me a girl-hee hee) is going to sit right here (pointing to the space between himself and another man)." Sure the man was 65 if he was a day, but hey, that's my flirting demographic. I laughed and told the gentleman to have a nice evening. Happy to be 29. Because the 28 year old would not have attracted a man who could afford to eat at a restaurant (my previous flirters were also homeless). I think this will be a great year. I say bring it 30, My eggs are prepared to dust themselves off and dance a jig. Or even a cool dance like the running man.


*I lost it two days later when someone at work asked when I was expecting my first child. But it was sweet while it lasted.