My bad... Law #40 Despise the free lunch

So I am blogging this with a time delay... and the law in the title line is the law I should focus on... because I know better.

It has to do with Joules and it is indeed a power struggle. Boy did I call it! Aka very publicly says she is sending me an email to the effect that in my boss's stead I am to take her place at a meeting that has the potential to help me and my brethren immensly. Joules who just happened to be breathing down my neck heard it and FREAKED. "Forward me the email" she says. "Why you and not me?" she says. To which I (very wrongly) blurt out... "I don't give a bloody damn, if you want to go, go! There is no power struggle, you can friggen HAVE it!"

Queen of the fucking slaves. This is in no way shape or form any semblance of real power. WTF! I mean really. I like her as a person and all... professionally she is starting to climb into the same boat as the Villager (i.e. a village somewhere is missing her) and that is a crappy thing to say but JEEZ. More often than not I just want to say "please just leave me alone". but I am a woose. so I do not and instead I read books and write a blog and I will muddle through the stupid meeting tomorrow. I hate my life.

Oh... but Daydream knows my name. Today he tells me he's known it from the 1st day I took his class, he just chooses to only refer to me as 'Beautiful'. Sweet, but the vibes say he isn't interested. which works... I guess.

LAW #14, POSE AS AN FRIEND BUT WORK AS A SPY

DO NOT READ THIS BOOK! I repeat... DO NOT READ THIS BOOK!

You're looking it up right now, aren't you?

This book is useful in the right hands. This and the 48 Laws of Seduction (boy was that wasted on me) were a present from Mentor about 2 years ago (?). Yet, while I deem it useful to one who understands the world from a certain vantage point... for those who are lacking it may have the tendency to exacerbate freak-a-zoid tendencies. I.e. little conspiracy theorists who still re-create the civil war in their basements across shag-carpet battlefields that span the entire floor and have enough action figures to man an entire simulation... not that I know anyone who has this.

In other news... Happy Halloween... whatever tidings that implies. The women I work with are engaged in an on-going project to make me fat. They cook, they bake, they guilt me into eating. It's just wrong. So lower-cased "J" leaves me brownies and here comes Joules. She peeks in my goodies and ask for one as she takes it. I'm not going to say no and she knows that. I am not the slightest bit upset, I adore her, and just yesterday she brought me candy. There is much love here. And maybe this only comes together in my mind... but as she disturbs me for something mundane (and this time it is not a story) it occurs to me she does this quite often. It could be a little bag of chips and I could have 3 left... she bobs over and takes one or a little piece of one... which is weird in it's own right... but then it further occurs to me... Is this her version of a power struggle? is she putting in to action Law #14?

Now I know she is not vindictive or manipulative... and yet on some level.... things that make you go hmmmmmmm?

greatest shirt EVER!

and why? because it works on soooo many levels. And in other news... I am officially too literal. Which may be a by-product of being buried by the GMAT.

So I have this shirt in a tank top. It is from the Gap and a product of the RED campaign, which is helping the ONE campaign, and all of it is to help the starving children in Africa who also have AIDS. (No they are not the exact same ones your mother guilted you with as a child... same situation different people). So my friends know that I am going to have something from this... bleeding heart that I am.

My nearest and dearest have been gifted with the white plastic wrist bands for the ONE campaign, pink pony shirts from Ralph Lauren to support breast cancer, and the charming little cards that tell you the money for your birthday/christmas/whatever gift has been a monetary donation to a charity that supports ______ (fill in the blank for something that applies to said person).

So it was with much amusement that I am gifted with a version of the pic... JB says, "I saw this, and I thought of you... Oprah told me to buy it (yes she is one of THOSE), tell me what you see..."

I say, " You're calling me a red Indian? Is that like your way of saying red-neck? are you making fun of me?" How did I get that? so in Algebra, you look at what is in the brackets 1st... and they what is outside... (RED) + Desi. What does Desi mean? We talked about this, don't tell me you don't remember... It's a Hindi word for Indian...

but apparently everyone else in the world sees Desired. nice. and Yay me because I am me... and on my way home I saw a bumper sticker that says "Talk Nerdy To Me"... and somehow I believe I should have one of those.

Sidenote: JD, not to be judgemental... and yes, to each his own and God for all... but please explain why you did not look at your wife and tell her to have a coke and a smile and shut the F* up? some people naturally have an extra layer around their middle no matter what they do.

I am Jack's flowing hair that is starting to have split ends...

...that has to be held back while Jack is sick in the grass.

On with Mr. Palahnhuik's warm and squishy plastic bubble that protects us from the mail room. If the 'lead' from mail room is given an award for her 'positive attitude' and you're response is to clap really loudly to cover the sound of a cell phone in your back pocket making your butt vibrate as your favorite dummy banker makes funny of you for having to go to said meeting... go immediately to the corner market and buy a box of wine, do not pass go and do not collect $200.

... and run lest any of your co-workers think you are willing to share.

If among said team lead's compliments is that she makes sure the mail room has all of the supplies that it needs... but they only have them because this girl spends about an hour figuring out what we are allowed to purchase THIS week and what will have to wait until NEXT week and deals with 11 billion people asking for sh*t EVERYDAY... calmly, politely, and discreetly edge her into the fire stairs with out her badge on a random floor (like 4) to make her walk all the way down or all the way up to get to a door that requires no badge... do it on a Friday (like possibly today) and grab your keys and run.

Monday, pretend like you don't know what she is talking about (and bring her a muffin).

also... this is my existence. it is the world I live in. It sums it up so nicely it makes me cry.

GOOD VS. EVIL IN THE BATTLE FOR THE UNIVERSE!

What cosmic bunny hole have we all fallen into? The world is just wrong... It started out normal enough... It was raining bloody murder (if it is possible to rain such a thing)... Yesterday I was supposed to have margarita's with the girlies after work... they were trying to make me call Tsunami waiter... which I was going to, but i'd lost the number. I even dumped my purse out.

This morning as I pull on my jeans for a casual Friday I put my hand in my pocket to find a freshly washed $5 bill and Tsunami-waiter's # crumpled in it. How did the ink survive? that is between these 2 pieces of paper and God.

On my way to work I get a call from the illusive Jenny-bear who says "Divali was last week, you can eat meat again. come over after work I have all the stuff to make you dinner... I even have wine so no excuses to stop anywhere" as I bask in the glow of anticipation of a home cooked meal... Lemon enters our consciousness with his 'good morning' texts. How odd. I talk to him all day. he texts and emails me all day. I've never even seen him(well I have in pics) . What's wrong with this guy?

Chi-squared in his profound wisdom sums me up as 'a square' and says that girls like me are easy to get a date out of. Apparently you just have to be consistently and excessively nice for an extended period of time. I say "Bull!" and he answers with "tell me about Lemon?" I do, and he laughs. He then asks what are my expectations of the Lemon and I say realistically I have none. Plus, though I've never seen him I know he is at least an inch shorter than me. that's just not attractive. Chi laughs even harder. He asks why I entertain the Lemon. I say "he's nice, and i like that he's nice and it's nice". He says "honey, you're beautiful and men are supposed to be nice to you. that is a given not an exception" so we are supposed to take Lemon as an extreme compliment and cut him off if he has the revelation of "feelings". ick.

In this morning's staff meeting my 'supervisor' handed out the most juvenille awards for training mentors... and announced the names of 2 new people starting next month. I can tell from the names they will fit the neat stereo-type of TRO's. not much education, little formal if at all, if higher education it will be the 'yard' or brcc... maybe university of phoenix. and $10 says the girl is a single mom. not to say i have anything against single moms... but single in the sense of having a 'baby's daddy' and all of the charming "keeping it real" ignorance that come with it. Don't judge me, this is my blog and my frustration.

Bianca's sidekick gave me a present of our favorite lipgloss last week... to prep me for her business card... she is now hosting 'Fun' parties and says she loves me so i'd never have to pay for anything and she mentions she is discreet. wow. apparently it is THAT obvious.

further palahnhuik (sp?) to follow. My head hurts with my situation.

oh and sidenote: how messed up was it that She-ra is He-man's sister. That was just wrong. (blogger would not let me attach my pic, will edit later.)

STILL SLEEPY... BUT UPRIGHT

lemon sent me a thimble. Think the movie Hook. Still don't get it? google it.

Insert big cheeze monkey grin.

GOOD DAY.

the pic is me... right now. i want to slide under my desk and put my feet on the chair and cover myself with the blanket that is taking refuge in the freedom box. (I packed up last week before I cried... and it makes me feel less destitute to have it stay so... bad dangling modifier!)

After therapy my shoulders feel great... no tension in my neck, traps, back... this is great. I am so zen I want to stick a post-it note to myself telling people not to talk to me. Oh... the other wonderful thing? I forgot to put my contacts in this morning. I left my glasses in the bathroom. Outside of what is right up against my nose (i.e. Computer) everything is a bit fuzzy. This is fan-freaking-tastic. it's like taking happy drugs without the drugs. yay.

oh and lemon is sending me a surprise... It's supposed to take like 3 days (?) but he was under the impression it would take 1. and I am dying to know what it is... but he will not tell me... I'm still hoping for a temp.

Mere Observation

I think overly ugly clothing should come with a story... "My mom bought me the hot pink plaid suit with the last $2 she won from an all night poker game in which she sold a bear, won a title to a castle in Germany, and cured athlete's foot!"

I further think that you have said story ready to just whip out whenever someone is standing next to you..."I know my pink plaid suit is ugly, but..."

You know it's ugly, I imagine you did this on purpose. Don't make me ask... just tell me WHY? Why are you shocking my senses way too early in the morning with something that is overly pink. and plaid.

... oh and lest you think I am a hippo-head... this comes from the girl who is rockin the khakis that have not been ironed.

RRRRRIIIIIPPPPPP....

This is the sound of a band-aid being ripped off. I am going to type this post as fast as I can and not spell check it (sorry in advance for teh typos... get it, that one was on purpose. laugh, dammit I am trying to entertain you!). In all seriousness this one is a bit of a ego sucker punch.

1. I am too much of a woose to call Tsunami-waiter. My deadline was Sunday (didn't happen) and my work friends are trying to help... "Tell him to meet us out for margaritas..." can't. scared. Just thinking about it I feel myself blushing.

I have no grand illusions about myself as Bond-girl in the sense of sexy goddess of the world. I fully accept my position as girl that can wear kick as heels but cannot wear dr. martens cuz she'll trip over her own clunky feet.

2. Apparently it is most apparent to the naked eye (pun intended) that I am the only person on the face of the planet not getting any.

According to Chi-squared, who was the 1st to broach the subject... Bunny picked it up and JB agrees with her. Bat-girl is the only one that shares my most embarrassed sentiments. Her comeback is that I shouldn't feel desperate because Tsunami is an option... which brings me to

3. Daydream is boinking someone I know. Chi-squared felt the need to point out that part of the way it was obvious was because I am working out like a demon, running at 9 o'clock at night, and reading 11ty billion books. The way he puts is "...you need to sit your little a** down. get some and calm down... and stop all of this over-achiever sh*t"... rounded out with even though Daydream works out like a demon, not only is he boinking... Chi-squared says it's w/'my girl' so it's someone I am friendly with.... which makes me wonder how much about people I really don't see.

Maybe I am too wrapped in my own world... dunno.

4. Scheduled the GMAT for Dec. it cost $250... app for JD/MBA to 1st choice... $225... that is one school. Holy Mother of GOD! and I am stupid enough that I started putting $ aside to help sis out with rent. I know I know I said I would never spend another dime on her worthless behind. Don't ask how I talked myself into this. The worst part is that I work for my $ and have worked for every G.D. cent minus b-day, christmas, and grad presents. She has never made enough $ to cover her bills and has always made ends meet with the help of various men.

Who knew her Mickey Mouse foot wouldn't be terribly attractive. The funniest part is that I know she does this, mom is in terrible denial... and I can't even call a guy for a drink. What cosmic bunny-hole is this?

Eventually we will have the dichotomous discussion of good girl/bad girl... in response to the NYT article... which is some kind of controversial.

#2 My mom could be Diana Ross and that is wrong on so many levels.

Gotta be honest here... the list is taking entirely too long. But in the interest of the follow through we will keep going.

The music videos from the 80's... totally my childhood... looking back... totally questionable. Bad hair, bad dancing, bad clothes... just bad.

I heard the Diana Ross version of "Why do fools fall in love" and had to pull it up... as it was stuck in my head. Imagine my surprise when she runs up to the camera and bounces around in what I imagine her her interpretation of a dance (?)

The sad part is, this really is my mommiey. The long hair (streaked gray now) that could get that fuzzy if fried to a crisp and not conditioned. The lack of rhythm... the shiny jump suit... ohhh the shiny jump suit. In mom's defense she is color blind, but she is goofy enough to run down the Vegas strip and talk to people. It's just wrong... but mostly funny... but still wrong.

Next Post: why the cosmos are conspiring to make me poor?

though it looks a lot like I am 26, apparently I am only 6

Happy Divali yesterday... (think Christmas, New Year's, and Easter rolled into one... but no drinking... or football... or meat... ok so it's not really like any of the above. suffice it to say it's a big to us.)

I had 2 weddings and an Indian function to attend, besides the cooking, cleaning, and pooja at mom's (she was set for 4) a wedding was 7/ the function was 7 (figuered I'd wear a lengha and just look like the foreign girl at both weddings) and other wedding, I was just going to pop in for the reception as it was for DK's friend and I was only supposed to go to play with David's Bunny.

Guess where this girl went yesterday?... pooja at mom's and 2 trips to the Super Target (because you only realize that you need 5lbs of potatoes and a glue gun when you need both at the same time).

Mouse decided to pull rank on us... seriously. She got huffed up and teary eyed and told us how in India, Divali is being celebrated properly in the house and it's a blessing of the house, and everybody goes home and enjoys each other's company AT HOME, and they aren't worried about the hustle and bustle of a 'social life' etc. etc. Guess where she is going with this? You know where she's going with this... Mom and I were officially on lock down. It was wrong.

Mom's is stomping around the kitchen mumbling like a gremlin... "She has nothing to do but come up with this sh*t... You would think she would could just watch her little movies, talk on the phone and just stay out of the way. She was not up at 4 this morning prepping to cook for 6 hours.." blah blah blah. You know me... I thought the whole thing was funny. There is no arguing at this point... my grams could have expressed herself better but her REAL gripe was that this was supposed to be special because she is here. and it is quite painful that the closed you will be to most of your kin on special days is across fiber-optics. Our family has been shaken up this year and it is quite the warm and squishy occassion that we could celebrate together because there have been lots of years when we've been busy and not had the time to sit down for a meal together.

So we make the requisite calls and snuggle down for some down time. My mom is still pissy. My grandma is doing cartwheels (OBVIOUSLY not literally). I am 1/2 into my book. My grams decides to teach me how to make kajar... it's like Indian eye-liner. You only make it on Divali (at least the homemade stuff) and it steeps all night over a flame. It's actually pretty cool.

Right. so the other way that I am 6 years old is that mom made a big deal out of the very white table cloth. It was WHITE. We were not allowed (Ok, only I was not allowed) to sit at the table until dinner because curry and masala will find the whitest surface possible and do a happy dance. Everybody ate at the table on the little mats with their hands. NOBODY dropped even the slightest speck on the table cloth... until I moved my plate...

... the way I figure it, mom was in a bad mood anyway and this would only have made it worse... so I pulled my place mat over it and waited for them to do to bed. I washed it and put detergent, oxy-clean, and enough bleach to kill a goat in there. We'll see what happens.

# 3. Jenny-bear and I have come to the conclusion it is officially great to be us.

J-B calls on Tuesday evening as I leave work and this is the conversation

KL: I need wine

J-B: Why does that sound like you need 'to whine'

KL: Whatever, I'm about to pull over and sit on the curb and cry until wine magically appears in front of me.

J-B: Ok, darling- make sure you pick a well-lit area. and try not be mistaken for a call-girl before I get there.

We ended up at Tsunami for 6ish. We meant for it to be just be drink, but we had to run away from a guy that wanted to write a book about pirate islands in Florida. Goofy J-B pretended to know what he was talking about and oohed and aahed. He called her bluff and they cursed her smooth the F**k out. It was the greatest thing ever. So we slip away and get a table overlooking the bridge- it was super nice. Some guys sent us drinks, it was sweet, our waiter was super cute... and then here come 'pirate-writer' again.

"You're the kind of girls that makes every guy fall in love with you and then you leave them devastated because you were never really interested in the first place!" wow. and this guy is single?! can you believe we were about to overlook such an obvious DISH?

So J-B pulls a Bat-girl move and does the slow-motion blinding with her bling, flutters her eye lashes and says "Sweetie I'm married". I pretend that my chop-sticks are the most interesting bits of wood I've ever seen... mostly to avoid eye-contact... and not to laugh. Poor semi-drunken thing. So he goes away. J-B says "Who knew we could ever say we prefer the company of pirates to guys who just write about them"? Funny reference point but 2 years ago on Mardi Gras day when we were accosted by a band of what purported to be real live pirates. They were funny and they loved us. most entertaining.

As we are leaving, our super cute waiter slips me his # and asks me to call him if I ever want to just have a drink. I am have the biggest cheeze-monkey grin... I really want to... but I'm never gonna call him. Hence the pic... it's a hot toddy (get it? if you know me, you do... or if you know him) but for my witty reference to work let's pretend it's a Victorian toddy. I am too much of a goober... I want to call but what would I say? Butterflies and ick.

On with the why yay us... We go to wine loft to find a bartender we've had before... a door man who remembers us and never charges a cover- even when he should... and lots of new random strangers willing to be our friend....

But none of this tells you why it is fantastic to be us... I will say it works best when we are sitting next to each other. She is my best friend and it's a lot like having a whole other person who totally understands you, finishes your sentences, and loves you unconditionally. But that is still not it.... Ready for what it is? She is my physical negative. You notice us, not because we are devastatingly traffic stopping. but if you see one of us and then the other- its the opposite. We figured this out at some retarded function we went to when Camello was working on her MBA and left J-B and I to go work the room. Most of the people there were consumed with themselves so J-B and I entertained ourselves... We'd worn almost the same dress and laughed at the similarities and differences.

me-long black hair
J-B- long blond hair

me-dk brown eyes
J-B- green

me-brown skin
J-B- pink/peach dunno what you call it

me- noticeable bum
J-B- noticeable rack

Shape wise were about the same, after the baby- she's getting back in shape but it's really similar. We both danced in high school, she did in college too. We both did the '97 superbowl. and though she buys me random things she thinks i'd wear, she steals my clothes. Hence, I'm thinking she buys it to hide it from K-dawg (her husband).

I have and have had other friend-girls but it is officially great to have a Jenny-bear. She has been more a sister to me than my own.

The whole night ended up lasting till 1 in the morning. I tell her one of these days K-dawg is going to think she's having an affair since 'a drink' shouldn't take this long. She says she told him she was with me and he understood what that meant... which means she can't play with me again for at least 2 more weeks. curses.

...but I digress...

Will get back to the list in a minute. Today was crap. I cried. at work. SO embarrassed. Bunkles called me and I may have made it through my day just pissed off except he says he had "friend intuition" from Chicago that said I needed him... and the flood gates just opened.

He's moving back. and I am happy because I miss him terribly. The pic is a present from Joules's vacation. Apparently she went somewhere that involved maple syrup. Since I will be here until late tonight I figure about 7 tonight I will take this to the head like a shot and hope for a sugar high to get through all of the stuff on my desk.

Tomorrow will be better. Dear god let it be better.

Actually, it has to be better. I think a fair assessment of my current position is an extended pissing contest. I say, you say, who cares what you say, what I say carries more weight. If you disagree, fine. Go find someone else to help you. You can not bully me into agreeing with you when I don't. I am here to help you but am longer going to go above and beyond if you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head.

no ick. Girl with balls. Today I pissed best. ok that's king of gross, not literally, figuratively

# 4. I got smacked with the Door... Again.

Made it to work this morning for 8...ish. I get to the door and have to look for my badge. The door is only broken when I have my little badge clipped to my pocket or in my hand. Today it required a swipy badge. Of course today because I am wearing impossible cute BCBG slingbacks with 3 1/2 heels (i just measured them). I have fuzzy hair... I have my hands full with purse, cup of ice, coke, phone, etc... badge is in the bottom of my purse.

I stare at the door trying to use all of my concentration to WILL it open. nothing. I try the goofy spells I've seen in movies... still nothing. I put the phone in my mouth, slide my purse closer to me up my arm and shift random things around to find a way to stick my free hand in it... all it got me was little crushed ice down my blouse. I give up. I put the cup of ice on the floor and free my hands to be able to properly look for the bloody badge... as I am kneeling down in front of the door it occurs to me that I should not so much do this right in front of the door as my life is a sitcom and of course someone would open the door right then.

Bam. Here comes Al to the recue. Ice goes everywhere. it was most impressive. And DK wonders why I have a lumpy head.

I hope everybody's world is like mine...

Because today is too stinking great! I will give the snipits and fill in as time allows... Or attention spans (I'm not new to this, I'm true to this! And you know this!... And that is on my list of things I'm not allowed to say :)

1. Bianca has a stalker and I so knew it, though I didn't want to say so at first because I would look like I was dumping on what she thought was so sweet. So I kept my mouth shut... And today I'm am doing the "Told 'ya so" dance.

2. My mom could be Diana Ross. That's wrong on so many levels.

We'll see if that works. If it does, this is theme song for the day.



3. Jenny-bear and I have come to the conclusion it is officially great to be us.

4. I got smacked with the door...Again

5.Sunsilk has the greatest ad campaign EVER... oh and today Dolly Parton is threatening to come out of my hair.

Before we get into that. Today is a great day. ready for how great? I am sharing work phone with another person (she doesn't get a name yet... I may never have to blog her again). Phone rings and I try to get it and found a way to dump my oatmeal in my lap. I pick up the phone and say "CRAP" into the receiver. Yay me. I laughed so hard I almost cried.

So in reverse order. #5 today started out Rain-like. Not rainy... it rained 2 days ago and apparently all of the water didn't hit the ground. It just stayed in purgatory masked as humidity. Today I curled my locks in an effort to make the fluffy mop look like I did that on purpose. I got into an elevator and saw my reflection... it didn't go so well.

Oh and I say Sunsilk has the most ingenious campaign because as I am looking at "the spirit o' Dolly" coming out of my hair. I wonder what little colored ball would appear above my head... like which version of this shampoo would fix my hair... and it occurs to me... you ready for this? sit down you have to be ready...

THEY NEVER ACTUALLY SAY THAT THE SHAMPOO WORKS! There are no testimonials, no examples of what it does, and no evidence that this stuff is any better than washing your hair with beer! (in fact they don't even mentions if is smells better than beer)

It is literally a guy who is supposed to sound homo-sexual ripping on women walking around and saying which colored bottle of this stuff will fix there hair. And what kind of a sheep am I that I buy into this and am looking for the ball above my head. wow.

k. #4 coming in a bit. oh... and I want lemon to get me a temp for christmas (you know like a whole person to follow you around and do the idiot proof stuff that you tell them to) but he said no. Bastard. He just doesn't want me to be happy.

The Anti-Dream Killer

Chi-squared is officially the 'anti-Dream Killer'. Not to say he is the complete opposite of DK but he is in the aspect that DK won his title. Case in point... I need to finish apps for law school. I need this yesterday now. So you are thinking "...then what the problem is?"... it is my personal statement. I still have to complete one along with the optional essays.

I am very lucky and very blessed to have the people in my life that I do. They do not so much think my personal statement is a problem. They say "so you write it and send it and the admissions committee recognizes you are a Bond-girl and we pack it up and move to Chicago" ick.

I sit down to write... I got lots of false starts.

I sit down to type... I got PAGES single spaced of drivel.

I bought the Princeton Review book on it and outline what other people did... I have a basic concept of this but don't think anything I have is good enough.

Enter Chi-squared. If I told him I wanted to move to Pluto he would say "it's colder there, right? We'd probably need bigger North Face jackets... I know you think they're ugly but Pluto will be COLD!" He fully believes that I can do anything. And I am supposed to have everything that I dream. He doesn't understand why the statement is taking so long.

He is my contact to J&B. I don't understand his faith in me and I am determined to show myself worthy of it. but how? (getting into law school has superceded finding better job, for now)

What do they want in the "tell me about yourself" portion? My goals? become fluent in 11ty billion languages, learn how to surf, travel, and stop being poor. Yep that realistically sums it up for now.

How to put that in pretty words and dazzle the admissions gate-keepers?

HI

Saturday Karma bit me in the bum. How? My Mouse pulled a disappearing act that lasted all of a painstakingly ridiculously scary hour. Sound familiar? Like maybe when this girl left Dream Killer in a bar?

Yeah it was a lot like that, but in the middle of the afternoon SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FRENCH QUARTER. Since the only reason I stayed in the wedding party was because my mom is friend's with Bride-zilla's mom... I made my mom and grandma come with me to N.O for the wedding. Before it we enjoyed the beautiful day and the awesome jazz that really does come out of every crack in the sidewalk.

Speaking of Dream Killer... right so we broke up approximately 2 year ago. We are friends now. like real friends... I thought. He tried the mini-jab of asking me to 'go-steady' last friday with a 'feel-better' scotch. No dice. He asks why not and I stick to my guns (or gun as it were) and pull out the ace. Now bear in mind this is not the ONLY reason. But it is the safety. You do not get to argue this one. I know you care for me, I know you love me, but there is that one time you willfully and spitefully slammed me between a door and a wall. Translation: Never ever again.

To be fair, I forgive him. I forgave him so long ago- we even tried again after that. The reason it was still a no was because the next time he got upset with me I saw red and FREAKED. He tried to "hold" me (so HE says) and received a black eye for his efforts. It is not rational, but then again fear never is. And that is what he has the capacity to inspire in me. FEAR. and that makes it not worth it. He pouts and pontificates that we have grown as people etc. etc. and it not fair that I measure the sum of all of our time together on one incident. I say "No talkie for you".

Every time we come to this point I feel a little bad. But in truth he is a better non-boyfriend than he ever was a 'significant other'. The day we broke up was the last time I cried because of him. Not to say he doesn't say and do a**hole things... but he just isn't a good boyfriend. So we avoid him for a little while. Hopefully he'll get squashed by the Civil Code :)

oh and I thought I was done but... Bianca comes over to say she needs to come to the gym with me because she is working on cellulite- crazy girl does not have any. She pulls me into a conference room and lifts her skirt. I look away and she screetches "I'VE TOUCHED YOUR BOOB, YOU ARE GOING TO LOOK AT MY CELLULITE" and I am laughing so hard I can't breath. In my defense, I was only pointing out that you could not tell the difference between the gel in my bra and the part that was me. And I don't know if other people heard. Nice.

Everyday heroes!

Ok. So it seems a little cheezy but it is accurate. This is the official "YAY US!" post! Last week Bat-Girl and I gave blood. And let me say, completely separately from everything else.... YAY BAT-GIRL!

It doesn't seem like it would be such a big deal. But it was for several reasons.

(1) It was Bat-Girl's 1st time and she was scared. But she sucked it up and squeezed the living hell out of Bob's girlfriend (if you don't know what that is... you don't need to).

(2) Bat-Girl felt the need to support the Blood Drive because Queen (Bat-Girl's little sister... smaller bat-girl? bat-girly? the diet coke of girls that are batty?) was in a car accident earlier this year and she needed blood. So for a span of time she had someone else's blood running through her veins (interesting visual. mais non?)

(3) and this is probably the biggest one... it made us both sick.

Bat-girl gave normal blood and it came out fine. Sometimes they can take my blood. Most times not so much. The complications are fun... like small veins, rolling veins, blowing veins. My veins are a sideshow in themselves! Funky clotting, or sometimes my blood just says no. Last week I opted for the double- giving red blood cells only, or platelets... after all they need it more and the needle they take it with is hella smaller. Good day for me!

Ummm no. So technically one has to weigh 150 lbs. I said I did, and I could... if you look at me the right way. Whatever, they didn't check. It went well. They put your plasma/fluids back into you with a coagulent added. When it goes back in you can almost taste it and it makes you feel high. Needless to say I walked around for the rest of the day feeling like I was on Lortab. Basically I needed a hug.

Complications to follow. So I have the nickel sized bruise with a hole in the middle. Fun. It doesn't hurt but as of Friday I am still feeling like I'm going to fall out. I doubled up on the Iron and thought that was a wrap. WRONG! Friday I make to the gym. Made it through 1 round of circuit training. Started to run laps for the 2nd... and this girl's body said "no ma'am". I couldn't breath. I wasn't running fast but I couldn't catch my breath. I sat for 30 seconds and it got worse. You know how you feel right before you hyper-ventilate... and you try to stop it but it's like back sliding and you are so embarrassed over what it will look like in front of all these people. Right. So for the 1st time ever, I walked out. I grabbed my stuff and made it to the parking lot before I gave back my lunch and wheezed in the parking lot.

Mom made me burn rice, pieces of pepper, gum, salt, etc. because my grandmother is convinced that someone gave me the evil eye because too many people are watching me. I try to tell her it is probably just stress and that I am starting to get sick. No dice... there was a whole mini-bonfire attached to this.

oh... and Bat-girl walked around cracked out as well. Yay. So we pat ourselves on the head and get ready to drag ourselves through another week.

next post... Bride-zilla's wedding was Saturday, DK asked me to be his girlfriend... again, and I need a personal statement.

"The more things change, the more they stay the same"

The title is in quotes because I know someone said it, before me I mean, and since it is not original I will not try to pass it off as my own. I try to be careful about things like that because I have had my words jacked and I seriously wanted to trip that person down a flight of stairs. It's just wrong... especially since I know what it took me to get to that point... mentally. Ya' know? no? k. nevermind.

Anyway, so picked mommiey up from the airport this morning. She was delayed a whole day because the genius Yankee (and I so loved the Yankees) flew into a building. Before they declared it a non-terrorist attack flights were delayed and ultimately cancelled. And mom's things were searched (again) and mom was felt up (again) and mom called to tell me she would be staying one more night. It's funny how one stupid incident feels just like that Tuesday. It's fear. but different. because if it was another attack people would look at us with a prejorative gaze right off the bat. no time delays. and with so much time to have a festered a whole politically correct bit of ignorant profiling. ick.

but mom is here, and all is well. except that her luggage didn't make it. which means that Kris owes me $5 cuz I so called it!

Accelerated Palahnuik

If the drinking game no longer fixes the rage associated with co-workers and their excessive cheerfullness... neediness... whiny-ness... and search of political correctness (i.e. What does this mean to MEEEEE?... um it means that you make little more than minimum wage and I don't get paid enough to coddle you while you wallow in medicrity... that's what it means) never fear... the mind of Palahnuik comes to the rescue again... In the form of another bit of "mental masturbation" as my stats professor used to like to say.

It is the culling song and the premise of Lullaby. Another book by good ol' Chuck and the current read. The song is of African lore, a song to sing one to sleep... literally. The guy who has it finds himself using it in moments of contained rage... like an annoying someone in a bar, cop on the street etc. What scares me is that I went to the bank today and stood in line forever. There was one teller working, another counting out her drawer, and 2 more playing solitaire. The working teller had an old woman with big hair that had a terminal illness called irritating. And I found myself wondering what such a song would sound like. Imagine being able to kill someone with a thought. No blood, no pain, no muss, no fuss. wow.

By the time I got the window and the teller is happy sunshine... I am happy sunshine back. and all it took was a little time to myself to make up a song that would make all the people that annoy me go away. Today it is a good thing that I do not have a culling song. I am rather irritated and would leave mass chaos in my wake. much like a super villian... but who would I be? hmmmmmmmm

"Eye of the Tiger"

Per Lemon Muffin, it is the theme song of the day. How huge that I let him pick the song! After the depressing loss to Florida, it's huge that we are still happy over the Tigers. That was wrong. You know it was. Grrrrr Tigers.

In other news, how funny that someone felt the need to tell me that Chi-squared talks to every pretty girl at the gym when I am not there... to which I say... "and?" how funny! oh and because David's bunny hugs me whenever I see her, a girl comes over to ask me if Bunny likes girls... WHAT? where do people get this stuff... and who knew we were so controversial at the gym.

On to completely unrelated news... last night on my way home I am stuck behind a very big Chevy something (see Bunkles... I do know the difference between a Chevy and a Ford) like a truck but not a whole truck and it's kind of teal. I think "hey, someone I know drives one of those..." It was Daydream. I had to pass him... It would look to much like I was following him if I didn't. But to whom?

so controversial…but not

I forgot to add this into my last blog. So at the end of circuit training last night the little boys ran on the basketball court. They are supposed to wait until after we stretch, but they are little boys, it’s hard… I understand. So a few of them are going to play hide and go seek. One lays spread eagle in the middle of the floor, on his stomach, hides his face in his hands and begins to count. I had to leave.
This is tragic. Not only am I the woose that believes in love and am willing to hold out for it. I want kids. I wanted a child so bad I wanted to scoop one of them up. This is SO not bond girl.

How many times have you heard someone say "Let's not argue semantics?"

Today I say "LET'S!"

This weekend let me spend lots of quality time with my Mouse (grandma, grams, nani... whatever you want to call her). I never feel so Indian as when I am with my Mouse. Not wearing a sari, not the millions of festivals, not even sitting smack dab in the middle of Satya Narayan Pooja comes close to Mouse's Greatest Hits. That is what her one-sided conversations are. I used to think I was supposed to contribute, but I am not. She enjoys it much more to be able to talk at me. She talks until she doesn't feel like it anymore, and then she goes to take a nap. The best part is that she tells her stories the same way everytime. The part you are supposed to take away from this is that much of what she says is prefaced with "... The Indian people always say" or "this is how we do things, this is our culture" etc. etc.

It is her way of imparting a way of life. I understand it. I also understand that for all intents and purposes that I am an ABCD (American Born Confused Desi- Desi is a Hindi word for Indian) And I accept this. So amid our 'conversation' my mind starts to drift to Daydream. Wednesday he incorporates some ballet stretches into circuit training and points it out when we are on the bikes. He says he looked it up just for me, (1) so he could talk to me and (2) to work on a part of me that I am working on. Super sweet but remember his test was to say beautiful in Hindi. I wonder why that would make me believe it more... I turn it over and over... ready for what I came up with?

If you don't know they pic is Aishwarya Rai. She is considered the most beautiful woman in the world. Even if that is arguable, suffice it to say that she is defintely the Indian standard. Millions of little girls get green and blue contacts to come even slightly close. Every major cosmetic company in India biggest seller is not face creams that promise YOUNGER skin, it is face creams that promise LIGHTER skin. That is the standard. By those I am not. And I accept that. It is strange to hear Beautiful here. In Queens NY 11 billion girls could be me. In India 11 billion more. It is only here that I am an anomoly. Only here that strangers approach you in public and embarrass you with words like that.

In Hindi, it is not less embarrassing, but slightly more believable? Maybe because one wants to see something the way one wants to see it?

Bear in mind, I think I have a healthy self esteem. I like me. Yay me. Are there things I would change? absolutely.

So then there is the text from Lemon muffin this morning (new favorite banker) and it says "You're beautiful" and before I can be cynical we hit the ground running with a phone interview with a sr. partner w/ Jenner & Block. Not the biggest law firm in the U.S. but one of the only ones that matter. And we look back at Lemon Muffin's bit of validation and it's nice. even if it's only in English.

Update on balls...

So if you remember yesterday's vignette... you know we wanted to go home, but also to ask for raise. Boss lady gave me the option to do both. She clairvoyantly recognized that I was at a very interesting fork in the road... actually, I was very close to stabbing someone with a fork. So she give the Okey-doke for me to peace out. Still I promised myself balls, and balls I would have.

I asked for the raise. Good news... it's coming in 3-5% that I should notice sometime around Feb. Bad news... (1)I will drop dead before then, (2) it's not worth the wait nor is it sufficient, (3) maybe that is the kick in the pants I need to find another job.

Let's re-evaluate this. I am trying to be fair and objective. This was the job to get me through undergrad (mission accomplished). That this is a Fortune 100 company says it should be ripe with opportunity... it is not. I once bought into the High Performance Culture to the point that I thought being Wonder Woman here would help me swing to the next branch. The reality is different. Especially with student loans coming due soon... it is a convenient reminder that I will soon be asked to pay more with the same salary for which I am doing an ass load of more work. Why does that just seem wrong? Amid interviews, conversations, networking, and wonderful reviews I have NO concrete indication that this is going to compensate me more or lead to better job. If this were a relationship I would so be done here! So no what to do to find wonderful replacement job? Working on it.

It is literally as hot as a monkey's business outside!

... and in the spirit of that, today should be the day that I grow some balls. (did you see the segue? Don't pretend you missed how smooth that was... I am so 'butta' and you just don't EVEN know!) Today I am sick of ordering office supplies for 11ty billion people (it looks like a slight exaggeration but if you are familiar with the 3rd, you are well aware that it is not) ungrateful pople. It is not fun, it is completely thankless, it is time consuming, and makes me the receptacle for lots of whiny-ness. It makes the lead over the mail room feel the need to talk to me all day! and the best part is.... drum rolll please...........


c'mon you know what the best part is! I get absolutely nothing but sore shoulders for it. I take projects like it's cool, I'm am corporate cheerleader like you would not believe! my reviews are fantastical.... So boss lady says I should ask the big boss.... and I say..... "in a minute".

Ick. Why is this so hard? I have read Hardball for Women, Nice Girls Don't Get the Corner Office, etc etc. I should have no problem asking for what I want and what I know I deserve... But now my tummy hurts and I just want to go home. No. no going home. We are going to grow some freaking balls if it freaking kills me. I got this. I can do. I'm going to do this... in a minute.

One should always have standards... even if they are doubled... in which case you are expected to double down. Everytime.

Was that not the longest title ever? Honestly! (the pic is prince charming)

K. So the explanation... Obviously indicative of a double standard one has... then the charming blackjack reference of having 11 and being able to split... but in reference to double standards... one is expected to create two hands (or have 2 faces as it were- Janus... anyone? Bueler? Bueler?) and adamantly defend that both are more of a paradox than a contradiction. They fit and are both correct... you just don't quite see how. get it?

On the random Madonna front... (overheard a snipit of a conversation that said "Who's THAT girl?" and I immediately had to run to my desk and try to pull it up on radio blog and then you tube) a.) in the 80's I thought she was the most spectacular dancer... now it looks like a jane fonda work out. b.) you know how Elaine Bennet from Seinfeld does the full body dry heave? Well, except that she has no rhythm... it could be a Madonna dance. In fact I would much love to see Madonna attempt it. I think I should post that to her website. Things that make you go hmmmmmm.....

Back to double standards. Dream killer is making fun of me because I had to stop to buy new pantyhose this morning because the ones I wore were the wrong color... and it was QUITE noticeable. He points out that I could not pick out the right pantyhose but he can. He quaintly remembered (Today is brought you by the letter "Q" and the number "11ty billion"!) that once upon a time I had him buy me pantyhose and they were the exact right size and color and quite possible the most fantastic pair of pantyhose any woman has ever had. (please look for the sarcasm... in fact please read the last sentence in the accent of a satirical older jewish woman) Let me set that one up...

Once upon a time Jimmy Choo had to pick me up for a wedding. I am never ready on time. He called when he left his house to tell me that he would use my blow dryer cord to hog-tie me and drag me to the car if I was not ready when he got there. I say "well let me go get a pair of pantyhose from the store so use the key if you get here before I do"... He bans me from going to the store because he correctly surmises that I will find 11ty billion things that I do not really need. And then spend another 20 min talking myself in or out of all of them. He offers to just pick some up. I say pick me up 1st so I can pick the color, there is no way he is going to get this right. He is outraged and bans me from going to the store with him because the same surmission (is that a word?) from before would occur with him standing next to me. At which point he would be obligated to try to strangle me with said pantyhose.

So he shows up with a great pair. Right size, right color, lacy to boot- no control top (as his attempt at a compliment) because he says I don't need it. awwww.

He spends the entire ride to the wedding bemoaning the fact that he is tragically single and how is it that women do not maul him in the streets because he can do fabulous things like pick out perfect pantyhose. To which I am obligated to enlighten him that the only reason he can pick great pantyhose is because he has to pick tights for himself (he was taking ballet at the studio I used to give lessons at) and 'tragically single' was the direct result of him being completely self-absorbed. No woman will ever be able to compete with how much in love he is with himself.

But I start to wonder if other guys could do this or if it was indeed a 'skill'. DK and I were dating at the time so fast forward to the next time we are going to dinner. He is on his way and I ask that he stop and pick up a pair of pantyhose for me. He offers to pick me up 1st and let me pick them out... and he promises not to try to strangle me when I look for lip gloss. I say "I would rather you got them please." He fights me the whole way to the store (obviously to no avail) and then after a long silence says.... "This is a test, isn't it? There is no way I'm going to pass this. Why don't you just tell me what I did wrong or that you want to 'talk' or that you are breaking up with me" I tell him it is no such thing and I'll see him when he gets to my house. He tries to call back, he tries to text me to get specifications but I do not respond.

He shows up with the right pantyhose and the wrong lip gloss. The entire ride to dinner is him bemoaning the idea that women want a guy who can do things like change tires, change oil and change spark plugs... but as soon as they get one... they want to change him into a guy that buys pantyhose and picks shoes and puts together outfit (DK can do all of the above surprisingly well). To which I kiss him on the cheek and say "yes, dear. and thank you for the perfect pantyhose. you are the best". no more words from DK :)

Cameo of a sucker

Said sucker would unfortunately be me. Hmmmmm.... How to start what I have for today.... I guess we just spit it out.... the more I blog the more I see a few themes that ribbon through my posts and to be quite frank... it concerns me. Want to know what tidbit I have today that I have heard myself type?

"Who knew men believed in the fairy tale almost as much as, if not more than ,women do?!"

Case in point: Bama.

(I said he gets no more time... I didn't say we wouldn't speak to him in public)

So standard intro- Circuit training, stretching, he bops over to stretch. He asks all about me and my stuff... I am trying to be vague and disengage myself from conversation with him as Newbie and I are toying with the idea of taking up Karate and we had to go talk to the guy... you know The Guy... anyway. So he is blocking me and moving around so I just can't get past him and I am like "Fine! This is me talking to you!"

So we are back to talking about all of the schools getting an application from me and the pending transfer with work. To which he begs that I call him as soon as I have something concrete so we can celebrate properly. I say "sure" he says "I know what your 'sure' means and I'm serious, please call me"... So I sheepishly have to ask for him # again... because I deleted it a long time ago and never save it when he talks to my voice mail. He is astounded that I don't have it anymore and I counter with "You probably don't have mine either." and his defense?

"What if I had a girlfriend for a couple of months and I wasn't supposed to call you?" and I say "are you kidding? I think I'm missing the funny." So here is the funny... he's not kidding. Apparently he did have a gf for a few months, he met her parents, and she (accidentally) met his. Promptly after which he realizes he does not want to marry her and breaks up with her. Now he did not use the words he is telling me as why he broke up with her... He used codewords like "re-evaluate our situation" and "we just aren't that into each other" and what not.

But I am blown away by (1) his honesty with himself and (2) that he is thinking about marriage and (3) WAIT A MINUTE! WHAT DOES THAT MAKE ME?

I fully accept that I am the most commitment phobic girl you know. Fully. Everyone who shows interest in me makes me want to duck behind a tree. If you ignore me... I will follow you like a duck. And hanging out with Bama was easy, it was funny. There are no expectations besides keep your word. I am not God, I am not the law, I am not your mother, . I can not send you to hell, I cannot send to you jail, I cannot even send you to your room! Therefore, you have no reason to lie to me. If you say you will do something, do.

And the standing me up on my b-day... besides that he had a gf I didn't know about, left a bad taste, and like I said if I'd really been into him, that could have been devastating. But that he started a whole 'relationship' of sorts and questioned his future with a girl... does that mean I have also been judged in his eyes and found to be lacking?

Maybe I am overthinking? I am definetely comtemplative and slightly confused. The only thing that this really drives home is that life is too short to spend time with people you don't want to spend time with. Bama's not getting a call... but you knew that.

All the randomness... all at once.

1. I had to pick something up from my office on Saturday. As I parked in front of my building the skies set up to cry bloody murder. I popped out and ran upstairs to get what I came for. On my way back I was treated to an interpretive dance by a piece of one of my SIMS (a construction hard hat) doing it's American Beauty Bag impression (getting knocked around by the wind). Watching it bounce all I could think of was "How like one of my SIMS to lose his head!".

2. Waiting at Sears' Auto Shop for what seemed like and eternity waiting for an oil change and alignment taught me several things...

a) I am never going to be a professional bull rider. I know you were all hoping to come see me ride a bull but somehow that does not look like the best career choice for this girl. Maybe it's getting dragged through the mud by a big bull, maybe it is the charming horns that just happen to catch the belt of a young cow boy and toss him up like he's a fluffy kernal of popping corn. No ma'am. Not this girl!

b) if you leave me in the waiting room for longer than 15 minutes by myself, I will seriously weigh the pros and cons of spending $200 on a welding helmet with a Smurf on the side. I'm just saying... No, I don't weld, but what if I took it up... then I might need a helmet... and what if the one with the Smurf on the side becomes rare and elusive... I will kick myself for not jumping on the chance.

c) ditto for all of the above on $50 welding gloves. Now I have other gloves but what if I needed these specific gloves. They are $50! I bet they can do magic! For $50 they better!

3. Wait for it... Kris's newest 'please try to reach through the phone and smack me' plea is going to be an addition to the list of ALL of the things I have been given in life that she has not, which is why I am perfectly perfect and she is not ... American Citizenship. Why? Her green card expired several years ago, along with the passport. Know what the sweetest K in the world did for her big sis? Spent an obnoxious amount of $ to overnight a package with all the forms, office addresses, phone numbers, and directions to get to the embassies etc. to renew the damn things complete with a cashier's check to cover her fees... know what the genius Kris did? who knows, the sh*t is still expired. Does that make her illegal... why yes, yes it does. nice.

Now she's had her foot run over by a forklift and her employer is not so much jumping through hoops to help her with her claim. Guess what boys and girls... depending on her illegal status- she may not have one. Mommiey to the rescue. Mom's took the red eye out of N.O. (complete with drop off and guest appearance from Sleepy Kiran) to NY. To go help her baby. That is what all of mom's vacation this year has become. Going home to do the ceremony for her brother passing away, helping out with my cousin's wedding, taking care of my grandmother, and now the black hole of despair that is my sister. It's wrong. My family expects and takes so much from her. and she keeps making me promise to always be my sister's keeper... the bad part is... if something were to happen to her I know me, I would not be ok in the slightest. In fact I suggst you come find me and sit next to me- don't say anything stupid but don't leave me alone. "Being my sister's keeper" would be me cutting my sister a check for every cent in my savings account and asking her to never never contact me again. the worst part is that I am not entirely kidding. If she would sell her status as my sister, I would buy it back in a heart beat.

How is it possible for one person to be a black hole of completely uselessness and and need? How is that possible. Who does that? All the angry ick. She doens't get better. and she never will. never. Damn, this was supposed to be a funny blog.