I had a salmon pouch for lunch. Ever try one of those? They're right by the tuna fish in the "canned meat" aisle. It was my first foree into pouched meat. It was disgusting. Not as disgusting as that sun-dried tomato/basil tuna turned out to be but gross enough to keep me from enjoying it's cheap, cheap price and protein-rich nutritional stats.
Anyway. I had to heat the salmon in the microwave and I through the pouch away (and some of the pouch juice) in the nearby trashcan. We have a real kitchen in our office and a mini-kitchen in our division of the office. This was in the mini-kitchen, which is also conveniently located right in the middle of a few offices.
I could possibly be the worst coworker ever because I put a pouch of fish in a trashcan that's sure to offend many people. I could be the best coworker ever because as soon as I finished my salmon (ugh!) I realized if the smell of the napkin I'd used was nauseating, I'm sure the trashcan I'd deposited the pouch into was waaaay worse. So I took out the trash. At work. See how great I am? I put our trash in the big kitchen's trash bin but no matter. I still removed it from the office area. That's what's important right?
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
I have jury duty in 36 minutes.
And I'm pissed. I don't know why except that I consider it a huge burden, for no good reason at all. Those fuckers better plea out. Maybe I'll pick up some pointers on how to pick a good jury, silver lining and all.
Also - I think I'm getting boob cleavage wrinkles. Are all these years of wearing push up bras coming back to haunt me? J mentioned to me that she uses Retin A on her cleavage wrinkles and now it's all I can think about. Low cut shirts are some of the joys of not having huge boobs. How else will I make it through my 40s (when I get there) if I can't show off the girls? Isn't that how you get to be sexy and old - good boobs? Or legs, I'm sure but I don't have good legs if cankles are any indication...
At least I'll get a lot of good reading done. Eleanor of Aquitane, here I come!
Also - I think I'm getting boob cleavage wrinkles. Are all these years of wearing push up bras coming back to haunt me? J mentioned to me that she uses Retin A on her cleavage wrinkles and now it's all I can think about. Low cut shirts are some of the joys of not having huge boobs. How else will I make it through my 40s (when I get there) if I can't show off the girls? Isn't that how you get to be sexy and old - good boobs? Or legs, I'm sure but I don't have good legs if cankles are any indication...
At least I'll get a lot of good reading done. Eleanor of Aquitane, here I come!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
I'm totally boring today because I'm sleep deprived.
BUT there was a small victory around the office today. The boss ordered these delicious cookies and brownies for Admin Prof Day from the place I always recommend (soooo goood!), and I abstained. It wasn't a day to appreciate me or anything so it wasn't terribly difficult to do, although I did sniff the brownie box - repeatedly.
Is there a regular employee day? There's a Boss's Day and an Admin Day but what about the rest of us? I once asked my mom why there wasn't a Kid Day since there was a Mother's Day and Father's Day (or is it Mothers' and Fathers'?), and she said everyday was a Kid Day. Although I still call bullshit on that argument, it's validity is a lot stronger for kids than regular working stiffs. So how come we don't get a damn day?
The reason I'm sleep deprived? Two prong. I became rabidly obsessed with finding a crack for a stupid online game last night. I mean, seriously. Cake Mania 2 is not worth it. But when I'm obsessed, look out, especially if I'm obsessed with something completely devoid of worth. And then I had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for my fucking Pilates class. It was good though. We learned some weird leg/push up thing that basically looks like you're rock climbing only you're doing it across the floor. I can't remember the name of it. Basically you get in runners pose (that weird stretch running type people do with your hands on the ground, one leg bent over your ankle, and one leg extended behind you), you climb your hands out in front of you, one at a time, until you're in a push up position with both legs out behind you, do a push up (or use the opportunity to cry, if you're me), then bring the leg that wasn't bent before up under you in another runner's pose, climb your hands out to a push up postion again, etc., etc., etc. You do it all the way across the dance room studio floor thing. If you're doing it right you look like you're rock climbing across the floor with while doing push ups. It's very impressive. If you're doing it wrong, like me, you look like you're doing some weird sort of bear crawl across the ground. I never could do cartwheels either.
No inchworm though this week, Squishy. Maybe next week.
Is there a regular employee day? There's a Boss's Day and an Admin Day but what about the rest of us? I once asked my mom why there wasn't a Kid Day since there was a Mother's Day and Father's Day (or is it Mothers' and Fathers'?), and she said everyday was a Kid Day. Although I still call bullshit on that argument, it's validity is a lot stronger for kids than regular working stiffs. So how come we don't get a damn day?
The reason I'm sleep deprived? Two prong. I became rabidly obsessed with finding a crack for a stupid online game last night. I mean, seriously. Cake Mania 2 is not worth it. But when I'm obsessed, look out, especially if I'm obsessed with something completely devoid of worth. And then I had to wake up at the ass crack of dawn for my fucking Pilates class. It was good though. We learned some weird leg/push up thing that basically looks like you're rock climbing only you're doing it across the floor. I can't remember the name of it. Basically you get in runners pose (that weird stretch running type people do with your hands on the ground, one leg bent over your ankle, and one leg extended behind you), you climb your hands out in front of you, one at a time, until you're in a push up position with both legs out behind you, do a push up (or use the opportunity to cry, if you're me), then bring the leg that wasn't bent before up under you in another runner's pose, climb your hands out to a push up postion again, etc., etc., etc. You do it all the way across the dance room studio floor thing. If you're doing it right you look like you're rock climbing across the floor with while doing push ups. It's very impressive. If you're doing it wrong, like me, you look like you're doing some weird sort of bear crawl across the ground. I never could do cartwheels either.
No inchworm though this week, Squishy. Maybe next week.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Watching MTV reality shows is a bad, bad thing.
So I was watching The Paper last night. It's a new MTV reality show about a high school paper and its staff. I'm guessing the paper is slightly better than the two-sided flier my high school printed once a semester and called a school newspaper. But I'm not sure. The only actual paper stuff I've seen was a discussion regarding gray scale, for which I care not.
One of the main characters (people? is it only a character if it's fiction?) is the new editor-in-chief, Alice or Alex or something like that. I know it starts with an A but I can't remember her actual name. Amanda? Anyway. The majority of the other people on the paper basically talk shit about A the entire show. She's a total Andrea Zuckerman but without the punch, so I can kinda understand but mainly it sucks. She seems oblivious to the chatter going on behind her back, which I guess is the point of "behind her back," although there are a few staffers who are a little too free with the bitch talk when she's in the vicinity. And half of the peeps who talk bad about her behind her back discuss their undying "friendship" to her face.
My question - this is high school? Was my high school like this? I remember having petty dramas and what not but the back biting? I don't remember that at all. So either I was a saint (highly unlikely) or I was the A girl in my high school. If I don't remember trash talking others ad infinitum, does that automatically mean I was trash talked? According to The Paper, you have to be one or the other. I wasn't one so I must have been the other? Is this faulty logic?
To be fair I have little to no memory of high school left and only flashes from the years before that. I remember driving a little too fast to clubs to try and get in while there was still free cover, a few too many parties, getting in trouble for saying "fuck" a lot, discovering poetry a la Norton Anthology (I read in the back of class while others were reading the book I'd finished a week ago), and completely giving up on fashion at school by the end of my senior year and resorting to t-shirts and jeans every day. Everything else? A blur. There are bits and pieces from stories people have reminded me about but pure, organic memories? I've got very few.
I think all of the above really reaffirms my decision last year to not attend my high school reunion. And The Paper? I pretty good reality show after all.
One of the main characters (people? is it only a character if it's fiction?) is the new editor-in-chief, Alice or Alex or something like that. I know it starts with an A but I can't remember her actual name. Amanda? Anyway. The majority of the other people on the paper basically talk shit about A the entire show. She's a total Andrea Zuckerman but without the punch, so I can kinda understand but mainly it sucks. She seems oblivious to the chatter going on behind her back, which I guess is the point of "behind her back," although there are a few staffers who are a little too free with the bitch talk when she's in the vicinity. And half of the peeps who talk bad about her behind her back discuss their undying "friendship" to her face.
My question - this is high school? Was my high school like this? I remember having petty dramas and what not but the back biting? I don't remember that at all. So either I was a saint (highly unlikely) or I was the A girl in my high school. If I don't remember trash talking others ad infinitum, does that automatically mean I was trash talked? According to The Paper, you have to be one or the other. I wasn't one so I must have been the other? Is this faulty logic?
To be fair I have little to no memory of high school left and only flashes from the years before that. I remember driving a little too fast to clubs to try and get in while there was still free cover, a few too many parties, getting in trouble for saying "fuck" a lot, discovering poetry a la Norton Anthology (I read in the back of class while others were reading the book I'd finished a week ago), and completely giving up on fashion at school by the end of my senior year and resorting to t-shirts and jeans every day. Everything else? A blur. There are bits and pieces from stories people have reminded me about but pure, organic memories? I've got very few.
I think all of the above really reaffirms my decision last year to not attend my high school reunion. And The Paper? I pretty good reality show after all.
Friday, April 18, 2008
The yin and the yang - I think.
So my bf has been out of town this week at a conference. He's been crazy busy trying to attend the conference and get his regular work done. He's a much better employee than I am. If I'm at a conference I don't even check voicemail and email. He also just found out he got this huge contract thing he's been working on, which is great. (I'm going to make him buy me a cute pill box with all his bonus $$$. It's too embarassing to carry around pill bottles and vitamin bottles, etc., but a pretty pill box is one of those discretionary things I can't bring myself to buy... for myself - I feel like I've got some pronouns wrong...) I told him we'd celebrate his big score this weekend when he gets home. He agreed and thought that sounded fab. (Boy words though.)
Our conversation last night:
Me: I've got our celebration on Friday night all planned out.
Him: Oh yeah?
Me: Yep. It's gonna be great.
Him: Uh-huh... (getting suspicious that I make him go to a fancy restaurant, I can tell)
Me: dramatic pause
Him: What is it already?
Me: I'm hanging out with my girlfriends.
Him: What? Why?
Me: Because I haven't seen them in awhile.
Him: So our celebration is...
Me: Yep, that's right. We'll celebrate by you being at home all by yourself.
Him: Omg, you're the best. Thanks so much.
Me: No problem.
This exact conversation is one of the reasons that I love and hate my bf, all at the same time. I'm sure you can see why. (Oh and he didn't actually say omg. He said the real words. And to be fair, he didn't actually say I was the best but it was something similar that I can't remember. I like my way and I'm repeating it so it gets to be my words.)
Our conversation last night:
Me: I've got our celebration on Friday night all planned out.
Him: Oh yeah?
Me: Yep. It's gonna be great.
Him: Uh-huh... (getting suspicious that I make him go to a fancy restaurant, I can tell)
Me: dramatic pause
Him: What is it already?
Me: I'm hanging out with my girlfriends.
Him: What? Why?
Me: Because I haven't seen them in awhile.
Him: So our celebration is...
Me: Yep, that's right. We'll celebrate by you being at home all by yourself.
Him: Omg, you're the best. Thanks so much.
Me: No problem.
This exact conversation is one of the reasons that I love and hate my bf, all at the same time. I'm sure you can see why. (Oh and he didn't actually say omg. He said the real words. And to be fair, he didn't actually say I was the best but it was something similar that I can't remember. I like my way and I'm repeating it so it gets to be my words.)
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Full disclosure: I'm in a mood.
You know the kind - where everything looks dour and grim and everything seems so damn boring. My emotions are easily held hostage by my sense of boredom. My complaints:
1. I'm broke. I'm in debt and I'm broke. I will never be out of debt. I will never be able to afford a new car. I will never be able to buy a house or even rent a bigger place.
2. I'm hungry. I'm on this new low-cal/high-protein diet and oh my god it sucks. I haven't cheated one, single time (and I don't want to), but I spend most of my evenings hungry and thinking about protein shakes. Fuck.
3. I'm bored. Last week was a crazy week and I needed a couple of days to myself to regain my sense of equilibrium. Great. My "couple of days" has extended to a week and I'm bored out of my goddamn mind! There are things I'd like to do (at work, at home, etc.) but I'm too bored to even seriously contemplate doing them. I have organized and cleaned my kitchen about 4 times this week though.
4. I'm feeling crazy bloated and it's terribly uncomfortable. (I wish I had Aunt Period to blame all of this on but I don't.)
5. The gift I gave my grandmother yesterday for her bday broke right as she was opening it. So now I have to take it back, hope they have another, and somehow get it back to her sometime soon.
6. I'd love to go to Target to practice some retail therapy only I can't. Refer to #1.
7. It's only Thursday. I have a whole other day of work before I can call this godforsaken week over.
8. The Pope is taking up all my good debate coverage on the teevee. I want politics not Papal deep thoughts. I just don't get the Pope. What's the big deal? I'm not Catholic or anything, but my lapsing Baptist self doesn't get up in arms over Joel Osteen coming to town. And I'm going to just say it: I like the old Pope better. He was bad about the molesting stuff (really bad), but the new Pope is way worse in just about every way. Ugh. Whatever. The main point is that I want proper analysis on HRC v. Obama, not coverage of the Pope risking all by rolling the windows down in his weird glass carriage.
9. I missed my Pilates class yesterday. I stupidly overslept and they learned how to do the inchworm. I'm probably really bad at it but I want to know how to inchworm too.
10. I'm pretty sure all this pissiness is causing wrinkles. And my skin is extremely dry this week. Damn all you oily-faced people, monopolizing the face care market!
1. I'm broke. I'm in debt and I'm broke. I will never be out of debt. I will never be able to afford a new car. I will never be able to buy a house or even rent a bigger place.
2. I'm hungry. I'm on this new low-cal/high-protein diet and oh my god it sucks. I haven't cheated one, single time (and I don't want to), but I spend most of my evenings hungry and thinking about protein shakes. Fuck.
3. I'm bored. Last week was a crazy week and I needed a couple of days to myself to regain my sense of equilibrium. Great. My "couple of days" has extended to a week and I'm bored out of my goddamn mind! There are things I'd like to do (at work, at home, etc.) but I'm too bored to even seriously contemplate doing them. I have organized and cleaned my kitchen about 4 times this week though.
4. I'm feeling crazy bloated and it's terribly uncomfortable. (I wish I had Aunt Period to blame all of this on but I don't.)
5. The gift I gave my grandmother yesterday for her bday broke right as she was opening it. So now I have to take it back, hope they have another, and somehow get it back to her sometime soon.
6. I'd love to go to Target to practice some retail therapy only I can't. Refer to #1.
7. It's only Thursday. I have a whole other day of work before I can call this godforsaken week over.
8. The Pope is taking up all my good debate coverage on the teevee. I want politics not Papal deep thoughts. I just don't get the Pope. What's the big deal? I'm not Catholic or anything, but my lapsing Baptist self doesn't get up in arms over Joel Osteen coming to town. And I'm going to just say it: I like the old Pope better. He was bad about the molesting stuff (really bad), but the new Pope is way worse in just about every way. Ugh. Whatever. The main point is that I want proper analysis on HRC v. Obama, not coverage of the Pope risking all by rolling the windows down in his weird glass carriage.
9. I missed my Pilates class yesterday. I stupidly overslept and they learned how to do the inchworm. I'm probably really bad at it but I want to know how to inchworm too.
10. I'm pretty sure all this pissiness is causing wrinkles. And my skin is extremely dry this week. Damn all you oily-faced people, monopolizing the face care market!
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Axe Body Spray
My day was made yesterday about 4:00 p.m. by an Admin in my office. Why, you ask? Apparently she noticed a bad odor coming from the kitchen(esque) area in the hallway. She complained that it smelled like fish. Our boss offered to spray his "good-smelling stuff" to cover the odor. Into his office she went where he presented her with his secret against bad odors - Axe Body Spray. As he sprayed the little, black, aerosol can into the air she coughed and sputtered and excused herself to her office where I found her, a short while later and she relayed the story to me.
This same boss has certain, how shall I say?, odor issues himself. While I distinctly prefer to overwhelming smell of man/boy cologne to the underlying offensive... odors, I've always wondered how the man/boy cologne smell seemed to grow and get stronger at certain points during the day. Now I know. It's the repetitive use of Axe. Body. Spray.
So while the Admin was busy complaining of an oncoming migraine, I was happily skipping back to my office to make a phone call to an ex-coworker with whom I'd developed many alternative tricks for compensating for the above odor issues.
If you can't comprehend why this made my day, imagine all those "sexy" Axe commercials and then picture your own smell-challenged boss. If that doesn't produce a guffaw or two, your boss is not nearly as physically repulsive as mine.
This same boss has certain, how shall I say?, odor issues himself. While I distinctly prefer to overwhelming smell of man/boy cologne to the underlying offensive... odors, I've always wondered how the man/boy cologne smell seemed to grow and get stronger at certain points during the day. Now I know. It's the repetitive use of Axe. Body. Spray.
So while the Admin was busy complaining of an oncoming migraine, I was happily skipping back to my office to make a phone call to an ex-coworker with whom I'd developed many alternative tricks for compensating for the above odor issues.
If you can't comprehend why this made my day, imagine all those "sexy" Axe commercials and then picture your own smell-challenged boss. If that doesn't produce a guffaw or two, your boss is not nearly as physically repulsive as mine.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
I suck
Who else feels like ass because they watched the entire American Idol Gives Back, in hopes of seeing Brad Pitt un-uglified, cried at all the sad bits, and was too cheap/lazy to donate even a dollar? God I suck. Saddest parts? When they showed the 15 year-old who had to take care of his 3 younger brothers because their parents died. It was like Party of Five but in Africa and with waaay worse dilemmas than whether to take over the family restaurant or not. I can deal with all the other heartbreak the show had to offer but the kid playing parent? I lost it.
It really makes worrying about a DHEA imbalance lame in comparison... (It's possible the DHEA worry was lame before it was put into comparison with other horrors.)
On a completely different note, I rode the bus to work today for the first time ever. It was okay. The only downside is getting up earlier than normal but I really would love a less rushed morning, so maybe I can manage. My route is filled with college students all going to campus (the bus cuts through campus to get downtown), and it made me semi-wistful for my college days. You couldn't pay me enough to relive them socially (fun but I couldn't stand to do it again), but I loved, loved, loved all the classes and books and learning. I'm sure it wouldn't be the same though. You can never go home, eh?
Speaking of old class days, my law school is having it's 5 year reunion this weekend. I'm boycotting. I would rather go to my high school reunion than my law school reunion, and that's saying a lot since I refused to go to the former as well. I sincerely hated law school. It was petty and shallow and I'm fairly certain learning "the law" in that corporate-preparing environment killed not only part of my soul but a large part of my brain as well. The only good things I got out of law school are: the ability to argue both sides of a point, 3 amazing friends (more that went to law school but I didn't know them there), a J.D., and a whole lotta good debt to mask my bad debt.
Moral of the story? Don't go to law school to change the world. Donate money to American Idol Gives Back instead.
It really makes worrying about a DHEA imbalance lame in comparison... (It's possible the DHEA worry was lame before it was put into comparison with other horrors.)
On a completely different note, I rode the bus to work today for the first time ever. It was okay. The only downside is getting up earlier than normal but I really would love a less rushed morning, so maybe I can manage. My route is filled with college students all going to campus (the bus cuts through campus to get downtown), and it made me semi-wistful for my college days. You couldn't pay me enough to relive them socially (fun but I couldn't stand to do it again), but I loved, loved, loved all the classes and books and learning. I'm sure it wouldn't be the same though. You can never go home, eh?
Speaking of old class days, my law school is having it's 5 year reunion this weekend. I'm boycotting. I would rather go to my high school reunion than my law school reunion, and that's saying a lot since I refused to go to the former as well. I sincerely hated law school. It was petty and shallow and I'm fairly certain learning "the law" in that corporate-preparing environment killed not only part of my soul but a large part of my brain as well. The only good things I got out of law school are: the ability to argue both sides of a point, 3 amazing friends (more that went to law school but I didn't know them there), a J.D., and a whole lotta good debt to mask my bad debt.
Moral of the story? Don't go to law school to change the world. Donate money to American Idol Gives Back instead.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
DHEA deficient
Apparently I have low DHEA Sulfate levels. According to my research, low levels are caused by laziness and overeating or by being an ana. I wonder which category I fall under? I bought some supplements but then I read about how there's a movement in Congress to make DHEA supps controlled substances, needing a prescription to get them. I also read that it increases body hair, and I have really light hair on my legs and practically none on my arms and face. I'm concerned that a) I'll end up looking like Sly Stallone, b) my potential political career could be ruined by questions of taking a drug that will later be illegal (aka baseball giants), and c) that I'll start growing a beard (or worse a porn 'stache). Do any of you, ahem, science people know the answers to these questions?
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Why did I agree?
Not only did I agree to join the Pilates Bootcamp class at 6:00 a.m. for the next 8 weeks, but I paid for it! I'm insane. I must not be getting enough oxygen to my brain. It's only on Wednesdays but still. And a few weeks ago I scheduled a doctor's appointment for tomorrow (Wednesday) at 9:30 hoping to be able to sleep in a little on a workday, a rarity. But what did my dumb self forget about? 6:00 a.m. pilates, that's what. So not only do I not get to sleep in, but I waste precious face hours at work (the one benefit to an early pilates class is that the boss gets to see me in my office before 9:00 a.m.). Sucks!!!
I am a fool. Officially. Oh and the pilates girl? Is super bendy and kinda freaks me out a little. I can't admit that to my other pilates goers, because I'm too ashamed to cop to my fear of overly flexible things.
I am a fool. Officially. Oh and the pilates girl? Is super bendy and kinda freaks me out a little. I can't admit that to my other pilates goers, because I'm too ashamed to cop to my fear of overly flexible things.
Monday, April 07, 2008
It must be Monday.
Guilt!!!!!!!!!! Is a horrible thing. Brief story some of you already know: Sis-in-law's 3rd kid + baby shower + invite came a week ahead of time + she lives in town 2 hours away + I'm not going + big fight with mom = GUILT.
I wasn't feeling the guilt, only righteous indignation at the aforementioned big fight with mom, but when I sent out all the emails RSVPing in the negative and apologizing to SIL, my mom's shitty ass guilt trip is starting to work. She apologized for the nasty words said in the fight and she's even picking up the flowers I ordered (in lieu of attendance - I try to be nice) and taking them to the shower. But even her good deeds are laced with guilt. See? She's the good family member - going to the shower and even picking up my pseudo-gift to bring along with her. *sigh* My boobs are starting to sweat. Apparently guilt-induced cleavage sweat. Gross and gross.
To add to the gloriousness of today I just now realized I have my cardigan on inside out. Nice. I've talked with lots of people today and no one has pointed it out to me. I'm going to wear it like this for the rest of the day in defiance of all the fuckers who don't tell you you have spinach in your teeth. Fuck those people. (I'm displacing anger here, in case you needed an explanation.)
I wasn't feeling the guilt, only righteous indignation at the aforementioned big fight with mom, but when I sent out all the emails RSVPing in the negative and apologizing to SIL, my mom's shitty ass guilt trip is starting to work. She apologized for the nasty words said in the fight and she's even picking up the flowers I ordered (in lieu of attendance - I try to be nice) and taking them to the shower. But even her good deeds are laced with guilt. See? She's the good family member - going to the shower and even picking up my pseudo-gift to bring along with her. *sigh* My boobs are starting to sweat. Apparently guilt-induced cleavage sweat. Gross and gross.
To add to the gloriousness of today I just now realized I have my cardigan on inside out. Nice. I've talked with lots of people today and no one has pointed it out to me. I'm going to wear it like this for the rest of the day in defiance of all the fuckers who don't tell you you have spinach in your teeth. Fuck those people. (I'm displacing anger here, in case you needed an explanation.)
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Bathroom Etiquette 101
I once heard a friend ranting about how horrid automated bathrooms were/are. His argument was completely devoid of all rational thought. I know this because I disagree completely. Therefore I'm right and he's wrong. Especially because bathrooms are gross and anyone who doesn't understand that is a sick, sick freak. Automated bathrooms (except for hand dryers - give me a germ attack, will ya?) are my own personal heaven. Toilet seat condoms? Faucets you don't have to touch? Doors that just have those twisty turn things so people can't see in instead of actual doors with doorknobs? Glorious, fecal free world, I heart thee.
So what should we, as a society, do if we are not privy (no half-assed pun intended (ha! no 2nd pun intended either)) to the beauty of the automated bathroom?
Rule #1: If you're at work, use the bathroom on your floor only for liquid waste, not solid waste. No one needs to know you in that way. Go to a different floor to share that particular knowledge with the plumbing system.
Rule #2: Never touch any of your body to a toilet seat - never. Use a toilet seat condom or if there are none available, make your own with the useful toilet paper sitting right there.
Rule #3: Rule #2 applies to flushing as well. That's what feet are for.
Rule #4: Wash your hands for 15 seconds, minimum. I prefer a nice, regimented routine of 5 seconds under water, 5 seconds lathering, and 5 seconds rinsing. It works out quite nicely.
Rule #5: Use a paper towel to turn off the sink faucet. You used dirty hands (that touched the outside bathroom door handle, the bathroom stall door, the toilet paper roll, and the stall door lock) to turn it on, so don't undo all your hard work by dirtying up your clean hands to turn it off.
Rule #6: Dry hands thoroughly. There's nothing worse than meeting someone in the hallway that you absolutely must shake hands with and having moist hands, especially if they see you've come from the bathroom. Best to avoid the speculation at all costs.
Rule #7: Use a different paper towel to open the bathroom door to get out. Lots of dirty, sick people do not wash their hands when they leave the bathroom and touch that very door handle. Again, why undo all the hard work of the cleansing process?
Rule #8: If you are in an office building, continue using the same paper towel to open all other doors that stand in the way of you and your office/desk/cube/etc. Those same fecal matter carrying freaks are opening the same doors you are.
I almost forgot Rule #9: Don't brush your teeth in the office bathroom. It's just gross. And really the dentist association people say too much brushing is actually bad for you. Pop a trident instead.
A little compulsion goes a long way in creating a happy potty experience for us all. Thank you and good bathrooming.
So what should we, as a society, do if we are not privy (no half-assed pun intended (ha! no 2nd pun intended either)) to the beauty of the automated bathroom?
Rule #1: If you're at work, use the bathroom on your floor only for liquid waste, not solid waste. No one needs to know you in that way. Go to a different floor to share that particular knowledge with the plumbing system.
Rule #2: Never touch any of your body to a toilet seat - never. Use a toilet seat condom or if there are none available, make your own with the useful toilet paper sitting right there.
Rule #3: Rule #2 applies to flushing as well. That's what feet are for.
Rule #4: Wash your hands for 15 seconds, minimum. I prefer a nice, regimented routine of 5 seconds under water, 5 seconds lathering, and 5 seconds rinsing. It works out quite nicely.
Rule #5: Use a paper towel to turn off the sink faucet. You used dirty hands (that touched the outside bathroom door handle, the bathroom stall door, the toilet paper roll, and the stall door lock) to turn it on, so don't undo all your hard work by dirtying up your clean hands to turn it off.
Rule #6: Dry hands thoroughly. There's nothing worse than meeting someone in the hallway that you absolutely must shake hands with and having moist hands, especially if they see you've come from the bathroom. Best to avoid the speculation at all costs.
Rule #7: Use a different paper towel to open the bathroom door to get out. Lots of dirty, sick people do not wash their hands when they leave the bathroom and touch that very door handle. Again, why undo all the hard work of the cleansing process?
Rule #8: If you are in an office building, continue using the same paper towel to open all other doors that stand in the way of you and your office/desk/cube/etc. Those same fecal matter carrying freaks are opening the same doors you are.
I almost forgot Rule #9: Don't brush your teeth in the office bathroom. It's just gross. And really the dentist association people say too much brushing is actually bad for you. Pop a trident instead.
A little compulsion goes a long way in creating a happy potty experience for us all. Thank you and good bathrooming.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
The bad, bad night of the JT sing-along...
Remember that post about being excited about the Justin Timberlake Sing-Along? Yeah, I should have known better than to be excited about something. History should have told me that the evening would be piss-poor. But do I listen to history? No. Hopes up - hopes dashed, that's the way of the world.
I held off posting about this because I'm not sure if peeps at work read this or not but here goes... I applied for a job a month or so ago that I'd be perfect for. I didn't get it. Fine. I didn't even get an interview even though I met every qualification x10 they were looking for. Fine. Whatever. Thursday night? I met the girl who did get that job. And as nice as she is, she is in no way qualified. She has less experience than me (2 years less), the experience she does have doesn't come close to matching what she'll be doing in her new job, and well, there's no 3rd thing. She just plain old isn't qualified and has no experience in the subject matter while I have all of that and above. Did I mention I didn't even get an interview?
See the evening started so nicely. The Sing-Along wasn't until 9:30ish, so a few BFFs and I hit up a women in law happy hour (yay - wine specials!). About half a glass in, I realized the new job the girl next to me was talking about was the one mentioned above. I spent the next glass and a half listening to all the information that lead me to the above conclusions.
The BFFs and I headed out to dinner after the happy hour and started putting pieces together. The realities of the job situation came together and the result? a very depressed me. So when it came time for the awesomeness that is Justin Timberlake, I was in quite the foul mood. I'm a stewer and an obsesser, so you can only imagine what a few hours did to my mood.
I will admit that JT perked me up a bit. I did comment on his sexiness more times than not during the night. Have you ever noticed how hot he is? Good lord!! And all of his songs talk about how this or that girl did him wrong and now he's going to passive-agressively not give them his name or ring (or worse: kill them in a car crash). Looking back over the whole Britney/JT break-up, I'm now firmly on Team Britney. (Aside: over Easter my little niece was wearing a dress and kept showing her undies. My SIL - uber crazy Christian SIL - told me to try to teach her right. When the SIL was out of sight, I explained to her the virtues of not exposing your "Britney" and she completely understood! And then, when her mom came back in the room, proceeded to spread her legs open, yell about showing her Britney, and then clap them closed again. Oops.) Anyway. I don't think it was right for JT to air all his dirty laundry and call out Britney for cheating on him. Whether she did or didn't, it wasn't very classy. Bad move, JT. Plus there was all that anger and little boy crying in those couple of videos where the pseudo-Britney sees the JT sex tape and JT practically forces ScarJo to commit suicide in a really expensive car. Me thinks JT might have a slight anger problem. But if you juxtapose the angry videos with the punked where JT thought all his stuff was getting repo'd and called his mom practically crying, well it makes one think he has a wee bit of manning up to do. Get on with it, will ya JT? Do you think he'll sing in a non-chipmunk register once he grows a pair?
I held off posting about this because I'm not sure if peeps at work read this or not but here goes... I applied for a job a month or so ago that I'd be perfect for. I didn't get it. Fine. I didn't even get an interview even though I met every qualification x10 they were looking for. Fine. Whatever. Thursday night? I met the girl who did get that job. And as nice as she is, she is in no way qualified. She has less experience than me (2 years less), the experience she does have doesn't come close to matching what she'll be doing in her new job, and well, there's no 3rd thing. She just plain old isn't qualified and has no experience in the subject matter while I have all of that and above. Did I mention I didn't even get an interview?
See the evening started so nicely. The Sing-Along wasn't until 9:30ish, so a few BFFs and I hit up a women in law happy hour (yay - wine specials!). About half a glass in, I realized the new job the girl next to me was talking about was the one mentioned above. I spent the next glass and a half listening to all the information that lead me to the above conclusions.
The BFFs and I headed out to dinner after the happy hour and started putting pieces together. The realities of the job situation came together and the result? a very depressed me. So when it came time for the awesomeness that is Justin Timberlake, I was in quite the foul mood. I'm a stewer and an obsesser, so you can only imagine what a few hours did to my mood.
I will admit that JT perked me up a bit. I did comment on his sexiness more times than not during the night. Have you ever noticed how hot he is? Good lord!! And all of his songs talk about how this or that girl did him wrong and now he's going to passive-agressively not give them his name or ring (or worse: kill them in a car crash). Looking back over the whole Britney/JT break-up, I'm now firmly on Team Britney. (Aside: over Easter my little niece was wearing a dress and kept showing her undies. My SIL - uber crazy Christian SIL - told me to try to teach her right. When the SIL was out of sight, I explained to her the virtues of not exposing your "Britney" and she completely understood! And then, when her mom came back in the room, proceeded to spread her legs open, yell about showing her Britney, and then clap them closed again. Oops.) Anyway. I don't think it was right for JT to air all his dirty laundry and call out Britney for cheating on him. Whether she did or didn't, it wasn't very classy. Bad move, JT. Plus there was all that anger and little boy crying in those couple of videos where the pseudo-Britney sees the JT sex tape and JT practically forces ScarJo to commit suicide in a really expensive car. Me thinks JT might have a slight anger problem. But if you juxtapose the angry videos with the punked where JT thought all his stuff was getting repo'd and called his mom practically crying, well it makes one think he has a wee bit of manning up to do. Get on with it, will ya JT? Do you think he'll sing in a non-chipmunk register once he grows a pair?
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