Jimmy Choo syndrome

In keeping with the "rampant medicalization" theme... because we all need aderol for something or another... off we go with Jimmy- Choo syndrome... why? because my Jenny-bear has it (and it dangerously close to being dubbed "Ginger Spice". yep 'Girl Power' and all of that)

So she calls this morning... you will remember this is my 'bunk the establishment day' where I go in later. As I am picking up this morning's NY times (I have to buy it individually because I get the Wall Street Journal delivered... and somehow I just couldn't have them BOTH delivered... For God sake's man! What would people think?!) I invite her for coffee and a bagel. I am trying to cut back on the bagels... no, I lie I am not. We all understand that if it truly is carbs that make us gi-normous... I will die FAT and HAPPY... and full of carbs.... but I digress... back to invite. She says yes and no.

I am confused. She says yes of course she would love to... but no she could not afford coffee and a bagel because she spent too much on a tickets to a function we are attending tomorrow night. WHAT? To which I am obligated to say... "Sweetheart if you ever tell me any such thing ever again, I swear I will slap you with a dead fish" To which she says "But then I would smell like fish" and I say "exactly".

On to coffee. I adore my Jenny-Bear. We've been over this. I understand her slight embarrassment... we've all been there. To take the edge off we have code words for everything. Today she had Jimmy Choo syndrome. Much like my Mr. Choo who in high school and early college had an inconvenient habit of never having $ to do anything. But he didn't tell us until we were already at said place that required money. Yes he was a mooch. So instead of saying ... I really can't do that right now... we have a bit of Choo. get it?

Aka in my world has been moved up to the Axis of Evil. Which is usually a triumvirate of 3... but I would argue she is big enough to be 3 people. Shy keeps calling her a wombat. Which is funny. And I want to kick him for re-naming my SIMS... but really just for re-naming them better. Curses.

And in other news... Got hit in the side from a woman too old to be driving. They are totalling out my piece... so I'm trying to buy the Jeep Liberty (see pic! it's that color... now what to name her?) Enterprise put me in. What can I say. I'm attached. I love it. She loves me.... My yoga class is laughing at me because everyone knew from Day 1 that I was not going to be alright if I had to give it back. THAT would have been wrong.

Also, I am a genius. About a week ago I slightly twisted my ankle on a BOSU- think 1/2 a medicine ball that you have to balance on and so squats with a body bar... I thought I could ice it and wrap for a couple of days and went right back to training like a bond girl... 4.2 mile run on Sunday, circuit training last night, weights this morning and yoga this afternoon... my ankle looks like it has a bagel wrapped around it. nice.

Gracious loser face.

Not what I thought I would start blogging about today... but with the Kanye thing it works on so many levels. Don't think I have to explain... Kanye threw a public hissy fit... it's terribly funny... and then...

So this is the week... Or maybe next week is the week. I am not a patient man. Have never been confused as a patient man. Don't really see myself growing into a patient old man either.

Soon we will find out what comes of the interview and if we are putting of grad school for another year. ick. Bat-Girl's sage advise (and take it with a grain of salt... she has a lot to deal with putting up with me) is to practice the gracious loser face (think Joey, Friends, he didn't win the award)... because even though we don't need it... just in case we do. My response? I go to make cocoa. Cocoa does not talk back.

Shy (bumped up from Chi squared) says we need no such face... only losers lose well. we have the "not yet" face. If we get a "no" it is only "not yet" and we find a different window to climb through.

Everyone else says it happened too easily not to come through (will blog the specifics later... or bemoan them- whichever)

Even the dream-killer is jumping on the band wagon with this one (I know!) he made me dinner Sunday night. He cordially requested my presence for 7 but I got there at 6ish. Going across the river to get wine just didn't take as long as I thought it would. (Yes, this is a "dry parish" on Sundays. Yes, I realize how country that looks in writing! Focus and keep reading). Mr. Killer is under the impression that watching the Food Network is the same thing as being able to cook. and yet... it is not. He made rigatoni in a white wine/butter/olive oil/ pesto reduction sauce (or that's what he ended up with... who cares what he meant it to be) with shrimp and crab meat... and roasted garlic and tomatoes for good measure. Salted to Kiran's taste.

All was well until he went to the bathroom and came back... and busted me 'fixing' it. To which he proceeds to stomp around the house and say "SEE?! THAT'S why I told your little a** to be here for 7 and not 6-ish!" *sigh* and he makes a good point. Ladies, if a man is ever doing something nice for you, please learn how to clap like a seal at Sea-World. No matter how many mistakes are in it, or how much you know you can do it better. because you will get to do it better.... FOREVER.

So I handed him a glass of wine and pouted and pulled out the "I'm sad and stressed about an interview for a job I really want, and scared I won't get it... which will in turn be your problem because you love me and I don't handle rejection well!" (*whew that was a mouthful*) and all was forgiven. Did I mention I adore the dream-killer in law school. He has posters on all of the doors with notes. The one the bedroom has 2nd degree murder on it... infliction of excessive bodily harm or homicide with specific intent... blah blah. I am very proud of him. He is trying.

I am less proud of him when we sit at the dinner table with candles and music... he clears the table and comes to sit next to me so he look deep into my eyes.... and then asks me to leave because dinner has already taken 2 hours from his study time and he has an exam in the morning. Rat bastard. Honestly, who studies for exams at his age!

Tou·rette's syndrome: Pronunciation: tu-'rets-

Greetings Boys and Girls...

I promised myself no blogs until I knew the outcome of Columbus... which would not create so much pressure had the King of Pride Rock not come down and announce he was putting me on a plane to the ENTIRE northern hemisphere. So if I don't get this job... it is truly of my own volition and lack of any worthiness within me. See? no pressure. none... and yet I am going to be sick.

On to Tourette's... and this is sort of a sad post... because I have outgrown her. That is sad because I adore her, and she adores me... One of my college roommates and a really close friend... I have seen her all of 2x this YEAR and that includes Friday night. Further tear jerker... she still introduces me to everyone as her best friend... Ready for the way that I am a jerk? I don't want to be judgemental... so for the most part I don't tell her about her life minus a few little gentle pushes in the 'right' direction. My way of minimizing risk is that I will not go anywhere with her that I need to be seen in a favorable light...i.e. anywhere that there is the potential for me to run into someone I know... where it would be detrimental to me for her to be falling down drunk trying to throw a Tabasco bottle at some guy because she does not like the cut of his chin.

Every time I see her, there is an episode... and I promise myself that I will never go anywhere in public with her again. And then time passes and I imagine I am exaggerating and it wasn't that bad. We do it again and I spend the rest of the night trying to contain the crazy that is my friend. She is a Beautiful Disaster. If Jenny-Bear is my compliment of physical opposite... Tourette's is my caricature. The worst it could get if you were fueled by hysterical emotions and illegal substances.

She is deemed Tourette's because that is an adequate summation of her actions. It is the way she dances, screams, speaks, and essentially is. Bear in mind I say this with much affection. and it breaks my heart that she has not grown past the point of drinking as MUCH as possible... as FAST as possible.

She is dating a new guy. He is a good Christian. He does not drink, smoke, or have relations (and has never). He believes what he believes and it is admirable. Tourette's has dated him for 2 weeks and is determined to break him. I don't know why I feel the need to beg her not to. He is who and how he is... that makes him the man he is... to challenge that just to see if you can is juvenile, petulant, selfish, and wrong. She understands it, and sees it as disrespectful... but her attitude (as it is towards all males) is "I'm sorry about your d*ck".

And it makes me sad. Because as much as I want to scoop her up and make it better, she won't heal until she stops doing that (well among other things). and maybe she doesn't want to... and that is her choice as well. and ick nonetheless.

Happy Birthday JD

dunno if you're still reading. my readership tends to be those closer to me that don't leave their footprints lest someone else we know make fun of them. Believe when I say better things are coming for you. they have to.

I spend tomorrow in Columbus on another leg of the cosmic bunny slide. I'll let you know how it turns out as soon as I know. It is wierd that re-assuring messages are starting to come from the strangest places... says the girl that tells a complete stranger that she believes life holds better for him if he learns to shift through the Sh*t faster. Life has become a sort of Disney movie (DON'T even ask who I would be) where the trees are trying to talk to me (not literally you smart a**). and it's scary... or it would be if I were not a bond girl.

oh yeah, and what's up with blogger and the pics?

Rumble Little Girl, Rumble.

Today I was looking forward to having the Bird Flu. The thought of coming to work was completely mind numbing, and the sheer futility of my time here again brought me close to tears. The thought of playing hookey got me through yesterday... and then I woke up this morning and got ready to come back here. What happened to the Master Plan?

My heart may not be in the right place to be truly Corporate... but I will be damned if I going to let someone walk all over me. Aka is wrong. and incredibly fat. but the important part is wrong. In a meeting she brings my name to the table. What she says is that I spend too much time talking to people... like I am 6-years old and we get time out for talking? The meeting to help my department got pushed, she was treated to an email outlining the issues and the response was a pat on the head and a grammatically incorrect, with many many errors in syntax of how "management" is addressing these "issue" to gather "those information" to get us "the material" to help me do my job.

The best part is I don't need it, because I won't be here long enough to see the loss associated with our mistakes due to lack of clear policies and an adequate representation of banking laws. BIOTCH.

The analyst can bite me and her BFF can shove her supplies and budget.

Chicago texts fervently because he is worried. He is insecure about sounding like a girl but is persistant. He is concerned because as he puts it... "It has never taken you 3 days to spare 30 seconds for me" which is true. He silently listens to me lament and I talk myself to exhaustion to which he says... "Soon enough you will be off to school, why does it matter" and I would (and do) argue "Because I am here now, and the person that I am says I will try my best to do the best in any given circumstance..." to which he says "ok" (i love that he gave me the last word on the phone).

and later he texts... "but you still have to thing BIG PICTURE, baby"

and while he is right... and I will have remained gainfully employed like I promised while boss lady is on vacation... the person that I am says that Aka will not get the better of me. after all, at the end of the day, I can always sentence her to the rest of her life... as her.

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.