I realize that they are, you know, ACTORS, and get paid to PRETEND, but I still get some joy out of yelling at the people in commercials, "Hey! Why are *you* shilling cream cheese! Yesterday it was birth control! Sell out."

Strolling into the cube and coming in on the end of a joke and laughing like you know what the eff is going on does not equal effective management.

Just sayin’.

Meh.

I am in a horrible, awful, no-good, very bad mood today.

Things started to go south yesterday – against my better judgment, I met up for drinks with members of my training team after work, thinking that This Will Be The Time That I Fit In. But it wasn’t, despite my best efforts to stay engaged in conversations that quickly veered into engineereese. After a good hour of trying to make it work, I finally gave up and sipped my beer in the corner, waiting for a good opportunity to leave gracefully (ha!). And so I called Jamie on the way home so I could cry about how no one likes me and I have no friends and I guess I’ll go eat worms. Two beers make me a little dramatic.

And this morning I got up, and WOE IS ME! I am so TIRED! And my house is a WRECK! And my hair is STUPID! And I have a spot on my CHIN! And all my shoes are DUMB! And I have NOTHING TO WEAR! And the Rational Me sits on one shoulder and says, “GROW UP. You just need to do laundry. Also, your coworkers are kind of assholes.” And the Emotional Me on the other shoulder says, “THIS REQUIRES A SICK DAY! AND JOHN HUGES MOVIES! AND WINE!”.

But if I stayed home, with the Molly Ringwald and the pajamas and the chips and the wine, I wouldn’t do laundry or clean my house anyway. And tomorrow I’d get up, groggy and slightly dehydrated, with a dirty kitchen and the same clothes and the same hair (did I mention that I cut it off? Or rather, the dumb stylist cut TOO MUCH off? So now I am somewhere between dooce and Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby, except without the cheekbones? And I am not real jazzed about the nakedness of my neck and head?), and the same clueless coworkers. So I am here, at work, sucking it up.

But I just want to put it out there that I am HERE! And I should get CREDIT! And YES, I realize how stupid this all is, and also that this post contains EXCESSIVE CAPITALIZATION!

Heidi Montag's plastic surgeon says her multiple procedures were a "well-thought out career move." And: "Heidi sees herself as the new Marilyn Monroe — she sees the need for a new blonde starlet in Hollywood and she wants to fill that void." [Radar Online, via Jezebel]

Right, because there is a total shortage of bleach-blonde, vapid, plastic, needy women in entertainment. OF COURSE.

It's time to play everyone's favorite game: "Where Is That Funky Smell Coming From?" - where everyone's a loser!

If I still have a job at the end of this fiscal year, I will be transitioning to a new position.

My coworkers and I have been encouraged by our management to, as time allows, begin to attend meetings and familiarize ourselves with data that we would use in this new position (which *maybe* half of us will still be around for). One of these meetings is a 6 a.m. Tuesday telecon, held at such an hour because of the international participants.

One of my goals for the new year was to start getting more into familiarizing myself with the New Position stuff, since I’d be at a good place in my current task to do so. So I sucked it up; last night I was in bed by 10, my alarm went off at 4:20 so I could leave the house by 5:20 so I could be at my desk in enough time to make my coffee and get to the conference room by 6. And I was here! Early, even!

Only to discover that the telecon is BIWEEKLY, and this is an OFF WEEK.

At least I got good parking.

I ended up leaving work early, as the servers and tools I need to do any work were taken down for maintenance (it's not a holiday for all of us, THANKS A LOT I.T. PEOPLE).

I ran a couple of errands and came home, prepared to get some chores done. Except that there is a Hoarders/Intervention marathon. Hmmmm...I can always get the laundry done tomorrow.

It has been a good day. Nothing especially spectacular has happened, but I am joyful, and I wish I were at home with John so we could put this song on and dance in our socks in the kitchen.

You can dance too, if you want.

Old school.

I have a coworker who is actually only 4 years older than me.
She was teasing an older, male coworker about having to give a presentation tomorrow morning.

K: "You should stand up there and go, 'My name is D, and I'm here to say..."
K and me, joining in: "I love Fruity Pebbles in a special way."

WOW. Didn't even know I remembered that.



P.S. This shizz is OVER TWENTY YEARS OLD.

We have two bathrooms in the house: the master bath (Mine), and the guest bath (John's).
Some pipe/hose thingy on the toilet (and can I just say that I preder "toilet" to "commode"; "commode" just sounds...bloated and uncomfortable.) in MY bathroom has a leak, so rather than messing with the valve every time, I have been using JOHN'S toilet in the guest bath.

I hate that toilet.

John insists that it is THE SAME TOILET with THE SAME SEAT, but friends, my butt tells me another story. That toilet just doesn't sit right; my toilet feels like...Home. When I had my foot surgery a while back and had to get around the house in a rolling office chair, I had to use The Other Bathroom since it was much easier to roll to, and I hated it Every. Single. Time. I rejoiced when I was finally able to hobble around well enough to head back to my home turf.

Anyway, this post does not have much of a point (except to say "TOILET!" a lot) except to say that I am very picky and obsessive about some things to the point of veering into Rain Man territory. I assure John that other people are like this too, and he says Yeah, they are called CRAZIES. Help me out here - what are you very particular about? Or am I actually crazy?

Oh no, Katharine McPhee. My girl crush on you is officially over.



Way to make yourself look totally generic and washed out.

I will never be able to braid your pretty, pretty hair while we wear mud masks and watch Grease and sing along and talk about boys while wearing very cute pajamas and fuzzy slippers, and we will laugh and laugh and my teeth are whiter because I don't drink too much coffee and also I have better upper arm tone.


We are through.
But at least we (me) will always have the memories (daydreams).

12:35
G: Dude, you leave the cube and it feels like a herd of elephants. Why can't you walk lightly, like a lady?

12:51
C: I, sir, am no lady.

12:52
G: You, ass, are an ass.

12:55
C: It's good to be back.
G: It really is.

You know that commercial? Where the people all whine about how suddenly, terribly slow their computer is, until they go to That One Website, and then magically, everything is superfastandawesome? And there's that one superobnoxious teenage boy trying to play some game?, and he's all "MOOOOOOM!".

I want to punch that kid.

A Wish List for 2010

Less Awful, more Awesome.
Less Bullshit, more Brilliance.
Less Suck, more Sweet.

Here's to The Good Stuff, my chickens - may your year be so full you can't stand it.

Love,
G