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Sharing is Caring

BLOG, I have important news to share with you. Such news is of such great importance that I am shocked that I have been able to keep it from you for so long. It boggles the mind, blog, how long I have been able to withhold such valuable information. My ability to refrain from sharing a piece this significant is perhaps the eighth greatest natural wonder of the world.

Blog, I am in fact perplexed about why I was able to _not_ share that which I have not been sharing yet. I am deeply troubled, blog, by my ability to keep this morsel of noteworthy goodness from you. Are we not dear friends, blog? Do I not share everything with you? Why have I been so distant? Who knows?! Don’t take it personally, blog, it’s not you. It’s me. Maybe. Maybe it’s you, blog. Maybe you’re bad at keeping secrets. I told you about eating yogurt once, blog, and sure enough, next thing I know, a couple days later, one person asks me about yogurt. How could he have guessed I eat yogurt?! You probably blabbed, blog, you have no restraint. I can’t tell you anything.

What have you got to say for yourself?!

Whatever blog. I forgive you. I mean, technically the yogurt thing wasn’t a secret.

Anyway, like I was saying, I have some pretty big news.

I got a new cell phone. It’s sleek; it’s sophisticated; it’s sexy; it’s totally me. The ring tones that come with the phone are all inspired by rave music, so every time someone calls it’s like a party in my hand. Other people look on when my phone rings, enviously no doubt.

The phone also has a built in camera, so I am able to take pictures of a quality resolution when I feel inspired by something. For example, the other day I saw a good looking guy. I was inspired and took his picture and set it as the backdrop on my cell phone.

I also bought a kit with the phone that lets me treat it like a music player too. This way, when I am not using the phone to chat with my friends, or taking inspirational pictures, I can be listening to music.

The phone, dear blog, has also caught the eye of many of my peers and friends. I’ve heard people making admiring comments like, “Is that your new phone?” and “New phone, huh.” Sometimes I’m embarrassed by that kind of hullabaloo around the new phone.

“Yeah,” I’ll reply sheepishly. I don’t know why they make such a fuss about it. I mean I know why, because the phone is sleek, sophisticated and sexy and can take pictures and play music, but like is that stuff even important? I guess so. I mean, yeah, it’s pretty important. Who am I kidding? It’s really important. Oh blog.

It’s too bad you are not as cool as me with my new phone. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. The truth hurts.

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We Have to Dance, You Know

I gone done somethin’ stupid.  I bought me a Halloween costume last night.  Reckoned it would be a good purchase.  Now, I tell you what, I’m regrettin’ it.  Ma would be so disappointed if she knew I done went and spent mah hard earned money on a Superman costume, cape and all.  

So, basically, last night I bought a Superman costume.  Out of all the available costumes, I liked the Superman one the most. It was either that, or a sexy nurse.  But I was worried if I bought the nurse costume, and an actual emergency did arise, I would feel kind of silly in the presence of real nurses, aka real superheroes.  At least if I’m dressed like Superman, there is  very, very little chance the real Superman shows up, and I have to go through that whole conversation, you know:  “Well this is embarrassing! We’re both wearing the same thing! You have to change Superman, because I was here first.  You may be immune to bullets, but you’re not immune to party rules!” 

Now let’s move on to current events, shall we?  Today is the birth day of one of the company execs.  Do I wish him a Happy Birthday?  Do I order a bouquet of flowers and have them delivered to his cubicle? Do I compose a rap song about his merits as an exec and perform it in front of the office? Who knows? Who knows what brilliant homage I will come up with to adequately commemorate the birth of our fearless leader?  

On a more personal note, guess who is going dancing tonight? Me! Guess who listened to someone talk about the importance of dancing yesterday? Me! I’d like to tell the story: 

My co-worker and I decided to go to the ice cream shop after a fine meal at Chipotle yesterday. In the shop, a woman behind the counter with a lovely accent asked us what we would like to order. My co-worker said, “Hmm, I think I want one of those coffee smoothies. Oh! I love this song! It’s such a great song to dance to!” The song my co-worker loved was none other than Wham’s pop sensation “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.”
The woman behind the counter, who had already been swaying along to the music, lit up.  “YES! It is so important to dance!” She said excitedly.  Then she continued, with a big smile: “There are so many troubles, and the men, they think they are the kings, but they are terrible.  We have to worry about the children, cooking, keeping the house clean, the money, always the money! We are so worried! But the men, they do not care. They are kings! They go out and come home at 2am, and you ask them, ‘Where were you?’ and they yell, ‘NONE OF YOUR FU**ING BUSINESS!’ and they beat you.  And the next night they come home at 4am, and they beat you, you know?!”
 

I stared.  She said all of this with a really big smile.  

My co-worker laughed heartily and said, “Yes! You know, they say there are Four F’s for relationships: Fidelity, Finance, Freedom, and French fries.” (Actually, I could only remember two of the ones she listed. I found Freedom in a google search for the words, and then made up French fries.  I didn’t want my co-workers to catch me googling things like ‘Why marriages fail.’ That would be odd.)  

So then the woman behind the counter replied, “YES! YES! It’s true! We have to always worry! Always worrying!  But we can do it, because we are strong. God made us strong. And we have to dance you know!” She threw up her hands and wiggled. “We must remember to dance!”  

And my co-worker and I laughed and nodded in agreement.  

As we went to order our desserts, the next song that came on was strangely appropriate Cyndi Lauper’s “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”  

Alright, that’s all I have to share. Have a great weekend!

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The BIG Day

Today’s great adventure involves a trip to the cell phone store, where I plan to renew a two year agreement with my current cell phone provider and to acquire a sleek, new phone. I’ve been looking forward to this for months. In fact, I picked out the phone I planned on purchasing on Mother’s Day, back in March, but it had only been on the market for a week then, so I decided to wait six months so that consumer reports could come out on it. That’s how seriously I take consumer reports. I do not make decisions on my own.

Coincidentally, today is also the big game!  It’s the World Series, and one of the most exciting yet as the Rockies and Red Sox face off in what could be baseball history if the Rockies win. I, for one, will be cheering for the Seibu Lions, a team in Japan full of heart. If you hit a home run for the Seibu Lions, you receive a stuffed toy lion. What does a Rockies player get if he hits a home run against Beckett? Trick question! Such a thing is impossible.

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Lookin' Cute Never Seemed so Hard

Sh*t really hit the fan this morning. I got dressed, looked in the mirror, and yelled out in shocked anger. The exact sound coming from my room was: “AH! Yuck! Oh no!!!”To my absolute dismay, I realized that my boyfriend looks better than I do in a t-shirt that we both happen to own. Well, we don’t “both happen to own” it. We bought the t-shirts at the same time at a concert a couple weeks ago.

Anyway last Tuesday, I asked, “What are you wearing Monday?”

He said, “I was thinking about wearing this,” pointing to the t-shirt that we both own.

“Oh, but you’re wearing it today. I wanted to wear it on Monday,” I replied.

“Okay, you can wear it Monday,” he responded. I am very good at negotiation.

This morning I excitedly threw on the shirt, and then threw a fit. The shirt was not flattering at all to my phsyique or my complexion. I thought about calling the whole thing off. “I’ll just tell him he can wear the shirt today. I’ll pretend like I had a change of heart. He’ll think I’m the best girlfriend ever, letting him wear what he wants, when I allow it.”

But then I thought, “No. Surely he will soon realize there was more to my change of heart. He will know.”

There was only one thing to do – ACCESSORIZE! I promptly threw on a necklace and a headband. I also added some intellectual glasses. I thought about braiding my hair and then decided against it. Pig tails are risky and should only be used in times that require extreme cuteness. Then I thought, “You are being absolutely ridiculous. This IS one of those times. If this isn’t an ECR (Extreme Cuteness Required) moment, I don’t know what is.” I braided my hair, more fiercely than ever before in my life.

So there I was, heavily accessorized, in braids, still not looking fabulous, and rather looking borderline absurd, in the t-shirt we both happen to own. But if it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t both “happen” to own it! It _certainly_ wasn’t luck that made it so we both owned it. I rued the moment I told him, “I want that t-shirt too.” I sighed heavily, staring at the mirror. I remembered that moment like it was a couple weeks ago.

After realizing it was getting late, I threw on a jacket and then headed to work. Now here I am, sitting in my cubicle, looking not-as-good-as-he-does in the t-shirt we both, you know, happen to own.

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Big Friday

Hello hello,

Big things are happening today. Yes, that’s right, today is Friday, and it is a day during which big things will happen. I know this, because I can see clearly now.

Literally, I can see clearly now. My glasses were blurry because there were a couple smudges on them, but now I have wiped them with a wet cloth. Ha!

I have also acquired a Nerf basketball hoop for my cubicle quadrant. This hoop will be a source of great amusement for me. It is very important that I install the hoop today, before I get my new cubicle quadrant mate on Monday. If I install the hoop _after_ he gets here, he might find it annoying and request that I take it down. However if I install it today, when he arrives on Monday to start work, I can say things like, “This is our good ‘ol hoop. It is tradition to have this here.”

The new employee will be hesitant to request that I change a tradition for him. I should maybe tell stories about how the Nerf hoop helps me get through hard times. “Hello new employee, this is my Nerf hoop. Sometimes, when I am full of woe, I like to throw this ball here into the hoop. It brings me hope. Would I go so far as to call this Nerf hoop my salvation? Maybe.”

In other news of great interest – our UPS delivery man has changed his haircut, and I’m pleased to report it looks absolutely ridiculous. My haircut is much better than his – one small step for me, one giant step backward for the UPS delivery man.

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Yogurt Fiasco

At work on Wednesday someone – other than me – ate my yogurt.  I sauntered over to the office refrigerator, opened the door, and noticed that my fruit bowl was not sitting on top of my yogurt. I didn’t panic right away.

First, I reviewed the contents of the rest of the fridge, thinking maybe my yogurt had been moved to some other shelf. 

However, my search soon ended in vain, and I realized that the unthinkable had occurred.  My nonfat, blueberry yogurt was sitting comfortably in someone else’s tummy!  I knew what I had to do. I took a casual stroll around the office to review the contents of everyone’s trash bin.  I soon found the culprit – the empty yogurt container was in the first bin I passed to get back to my cubicle.  Torn between confrontation and passive resistance, I sat down at my cubicle to think about how to approach such a, dare I say, awkward, situation. I imagined many scenarios.   Confrontation Scenario 1:

Me: Hello! I notice you have eaten my organic, nonfat, blueberry yogurt.
Him: Yeah, what of it?
Me: Uh, nothing, I just wanted to let you know I’m very observant. 

This scenario was awful. I promptly imagined another.  Confrontation Scenario 2:
Me: Hey, uh, I’m sorry. There seems to have been some confusion.  I probably should have labeled my yogurt, but I’ve been eating it every day for the past two years, so I thought every one here knew that was my yogurt.
Him: Wow.
Me: Yeah, so, it’s no biggie, but I’d appreciate you not eating it again.
Him: There’s other yogurt in the fridge.
Me: I can’t just eat other people’s yogurt. What is wrong with you?  

 This scenario was an improvement, but then I thought about emailing the entire office.  Confrontation Scenario 3:  

Dear Office,  Every day my mom packs me a lunch of fruit and organic, nonfat blueberry yogurt.  She puts a lot of time into picking out a fresh container of yogurt for me, and it is very important that I eat it.  It is delicious, it ensures timely bowel movement, and it provides me with my much needed doses of calcium and vitamin D.  (Insert picture of the yogurt.) So you see, when you eat my yogurt, you’re not just eating my food. You’re killing me slowly.  

This scenario was a tad extreme. I decided against it.   On Thursday, I ate my yogurt first thing in the morning, so no one could eat it before me.  Then, when a co-worker casually asked me what I was having for lunch, I said loudly, “I eat yogurt for lunch everyday!”  The co-worker stared. I continued, “Yup! Blueberry yogurt!”
The co-worker looked around: “Okay. Uh do you eat anything else?” 

I replied, still articulating loudly, “Sure sure, but the nonfat, organic, blueberry yogurt happens EVERY DAY.”

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French Fries

Hello Blog.

Terrible awkwardness ensued today as I went in search of nourishment. First, I was going to get Mexican food, but then I decided the line was too long, so I went to another dining establishment to order French fries.

I ordered, paid, and then the fine gentleman behind the counter said, “It’ll be five minutes before they’re ready.” I was outraged. I stood there and glared at him. Five minutes!? I only ordered them because I thought they would be quick. Why didn’t he tell me before I paid? All of these thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there, glaring.

I decided to be patient and wait it out. I headed over to pour some ketchup into a little container. Then, I tried to cover the container with the little matching cap, but it wouldn’t fit. It was awful, dear blog, really a complete disaster, getting that plastic top onto the plastic mini container. I tried another plastic cap, thinking maybe I had chanced upon an aberration in the group of plastic caps and containers. But alas, no, it seems this particular restaurant had ordered two products that were supposed to fit each other, but did not. Thinking quickly, I decided to wrap a napkin around the cap and container so that the ketchup wouldn’t spill en route to my return to work with the french fries and ketchup.

I again glared at the gentleman behind the counter. Had he prefaced my payment with, “It will take five minutes to make the fries, and you will not be able to place a lid on top of the condiment container,” I would have thought twice before ordering. I would have weighed my options heavily. Perhaps I would have frowned to indicate my great displeasure. Who knows?

Instead, I struggled with the ketchup container, and glared, awkwardly. At one point, the young woman cooking the fries smiled at me. I wanted to shake my fist at her and yell, “Now is not the time for smiling! Now is the time for french fry making!” but that would have been a bit dramatic, and maybe I would have been misconstrued as a maniac. So, instead of yelling back, “I’ve had enough of your restaurant’s trickery and deceit!” I returned a friendly smile to the woman.

To my complete horror, rather than continue working on the fries after I smiled back, she walked away and went to the restroom. My future fries were left totally unattended. I looked around frantically. “What if she is going number two? That will take forever! I’m never getting my fries! ALL HOPE IS LOST!”

Then some other guy jumped in and put my fries into a paper cup and handed me my bag. I gently placed my plastic-container-with-the-ketchup-wrapped-in-a-napkin into the bag, thanked the people behind the counter, and headed back to work. The end.

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The Story of the Belt

I have just returned from Starbucks, a friendly little cafe that serves fine expresso and other such caffeinated beverages. I ordered a venti mocha, skim, with whipped cream. Venti is the equivalent for large. They use non-standard words for their drink sizes. It’s really quite charming. For example, tall means small. They picked tall because it rhymes with small, I presume. Isn’t that clever?! Everyone should be so lucky as to have a Starbucks nearby, but alas, that is probably not the case. It’s unfortunate that not every town is as privileged as mine to have such a delightful mom and pop coffee shop.

On my Starbucks cup there is a quotation from Joe Cristina: “Worldwide, nearly 40 million people are living with HIV and AIDS. Over 12 million children have been orphaned due to AIDS. Six hundred thousand children are infected with HIV each year. And 25 years into the AIDS pandemic, no vaccine or cure is in sight. The numbers speak for themselves.” It is a very depressing quotation. Next time, I will order a tall (small) so that they cannot fit such a long, sombering quotation on my cup. Or I’ll just say, “Give me the cup that doesn’t have an AIDS quote, please. I’m having a rough enough day as is. Do you have any cup that talks about flower patches?”

In addition to purchasing coffee, I have been on the lookout for sweater vests. Remember? I talked about this earlier. I have not been able to find any. I did, however, purchase a belt. I saw a mannequin wearing the belt, and I thought, “That belt looks good on the mannequin, and it would look even better on me.” It’s quite an interesting story, the story of my belt. Let me tell it.

I was at The Gap, a friendly boutique-esque shop that sells clothes that are appropriate for both work and casual events. They have clothes for men and women. I was reviewing the mannequins and spotted an ensemble that struck my fancy. It was a pair of wide-legged, pin-striped pants, a brown belt, and a blue, loose fitting sweater. I immediately headed over to the rack with the pin-striped pants and picked out two sizes to try on in the dressing room. Unfortunately, neither of these sizes fit well, so I asked the friendly staff to bring me a smaller size. This is where the plot thickens. The friendly staff member returned, but with the wrong pants! I said, “No. I’m afraid there has been a terrible mistake. These pants which you have brought me are not the same as the ones I saw on the mannequin.” She set off again in search of the pants, and returned, luckily this time with the correct pair and size. I tried them on, and they fit. So I decided to buy them.

However, something was missing. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, so I returned to the mannequin, only to immediately realize that the belt was just the accessory I needed to make these pants a truly wonderful addition to my warddrobe. Off I went, in search of the belt on the mannequin. I found all the belts, but could only find my particular mannequin belt in a size large. Again, I turned to a friendly staff member for some assistance. I pointed to the belt, “I would like this belt.” They nodded. “But I can only find it in a large on the rack,” I explained. Then I took it a step further, “Surely this actual belt on the mannequin is not a size large.” I said it in a very suggestive tone. I might as well have taken the belt off of the mannequin myself.
To my dismay my suggestive tone was not suggestive enough. The staff member was quick to reply, “I’ll go check in the back.” For two minutes, I stood there, really concerned I was not going to get this belt that would surely look absolutely fabulous on me. I thought about what I would do without the belt. I wondered if I could ever be truly happy wearing the pin-stripe pants without the belt. I suspected I couldn’t.

Luckily, he was able to retrieve an appropriate size from the back, and I bought the belt.

And there you have it.

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Sweater vest?

Hello blog!

Usually, I wouldn’t write in you after making such huge promises of site progress, and then not even making a tiny effort to follow through.  Rather, I would ignore you for months and then return with even grander promises. That’s just how I roll.

Today is an exception, however, because our system is sort of down and I am unable to do work for which I am paid. So I turn to you, in my time of boredom.

So…it’s Thursday…and the weather is really nice…and…uh….I’m going to have some fruit for lunch…and have you heard that song “Naive” by The Kooks? It’s pretty catchy. You probably haven’t heard it – it’s Indie. It’s big in the UK though.

More importantly, I’ve been very seriously considering changing my warddrobe. My go-to ensembles include fitted hooded sweatshirts, jeans, and button down shirts.

I am now thinking about embracing vests, specifically, sweater vests. It would be a rather bold transition to make, and I may not be able to make it. Stay tuned, dear blog, for a fashion adventure may be right around the corner.

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Hope.

Dear Blog,

I realize I’ve been a little distant, but I want you to know I’ve been thinking about you in my time away. I wasn’t able to write because sometimes other things in my life take priority. What was so important that I neglected you? Well, I was reflecting, if you must know. On what? Life. Duh. I looked inward. For months.

Okay maybe that’s a lie. I was away on business. Now I’m back!

Many important things happened during my time away. First and foremost, I adjusted to a new time zone. I have also made international friends. I can prove this through online social networking tools that connect us together now. This is important because upon my return I was able to say to my parents: “Behold my new international friends, their pictures, and their favorite movies. So you see, mum and pop, I have friends.”

Secondly, I have become more worldly. This was inevitable as soon as I got onto the plane and crossed an ocean. I now have a refined taste in music and an eye for sophisticated accoutrement.

What does this all mean for you, imawkward blog? Well it means growth! It means progress! It means hope. No more blog entries about how the site is coming soon. Future blog entries will be about how the site is up and running. This site is finally going to get made! Maybe.

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