Age (In)appropriate

This is a real conversation I had at Best Buy during lunch today:

Me: *places Super Smash Brothers Brawl on the checkout* Good Afternoon.
BB Checkout Guy: Er, um. Shouldn't you be in school by now?
Me: *raises eyebrow* Excuse me? You're kidding right?
BBCG: No, really.
Me: How old, exactly, do you think I am?
BBCG: I don't know, 17? 18?
Me: Are you serious? Try doubling that.
BBCG: I don't know, man. I'm just sayin'...

Okay, the Checkout Guy was CLEARLY younger than I. Was it the fact that I was purchasing a video game in the middle of the day? The lack of the full make-up on this rainy day? I know I look youngish, but I have not been pegged as a teenager since I was in my 20's. Generally, people are about -3 to 5 years from my real age - it's the Chinese genes. Seriously, though, 17 or 18? I'm not sure if I should be complimented or insulted.

Quote of the week

"Quicken has taken all of my transactions at Krispy Kreme and has automatically categorized them as Medical." -- Magenta Sequins

'tis the modern age, and I am blogging on jury duty

Seriously. Montgomery County actually has WiFi in the jury lounge. They even have some computers available for those who did not bring a laptop. This is a far cry from the last 2 times I served on jury duty (once in NYC and once in Baltimore County). Previously, all I was allowed was a book. No cell phones. No electronic equipment. Even Walkmen (Walkmans?) were frowned upon, since you may miss being called.

But, today, I have my laptop. I have my cell phone. I have some work. I have a book. I have my iPod. I guess it won't be horrible...

Out of the mouths of babes, 2

I love all of the kids in my life. They're all so much fun and intelligent and, of course, say the darnedest things... Friday night, hanging at Crazy and SweetPea's house after dinner. SweetPea's Son (D - 16 yo) and Daughter (K - 14 yo), and Trouble playing Guitar Hero on Wii. Before I leave, D decides he needs to show off for me, to very little success. K and Trouble, in the mean time get bored and get out the laptop. K begins to dance to a video she's watching. The following conversation ensues:

D (stops in the middle of a GH riff): K, why are you dancing so provocatively?
K (giggling): If you saw what I was watching... this is sooo funny.
D (in the most serious tone I've ever heard from him - the kid is rarely serious): I really don't think that's appropriate.

It was at this point that I start hysterically laughing. Neither D nor K, nor even Trouble know what the heck is so funny. And I, of course, refuse to tell them.


On a completely different note, but because it's funny too - categorize this under "Adults say the darnedest things." At dim sum with friends - 4LL is swatting away the hand of her son (M), reaching for the sugar to put in his tea...

4LL: Why do you want the sugar?
M: I want to put it in my tea.
4LL: We DON'T put sugar in our tea.
M (in whiny kid voice): Whhhyyyyyy?
4LL (very sternly): Because we're CHINESE!

It just never stops, does it?

No, Seriously CawfeeGuy?

Is this really necessary?

Out of the mouths of babes...

Crazy's daughter (Trouble) cracks me up. All the time. Because Trouble's 10, but I always forget that she's 10 since, most of the time, she speaks like she's 40. So, when Turg got this unsigned message from an unfamiliar email address the other day, it's not surprising that he couldn't figure out who it was from:

"hey i have been extremely busy trying to fit everyone into my tight and already very busy schedule. talk to you later. bye-bye"

I mean, seriously - "my tight and already busy schedule"?? This girl's planning world domination. Just wait for it.

I seriously tried on about 100 pairs of shorts this weekend

I have this issue with shorts. I haven't owned a pair of shorts that wasn't the athletic kind (a la, I look like a soccer mom - thanks Magenta) for many years. I've been doing the crop pant, capri or skirt thing in lieu of shorts for quite a few years. But, it's been about 1000 degrees these past few days, and everything I have has been far too warm, so I felt it was time to deal with the situation.

I made it my mission this weekend to find at least 1 pair of shorts that I liked, which looked somewhat good, and didn't make me feel like I had a huge ass or mile wide hips or thunder thighs. Let me tell you, this was really tough. I'm hyper critical of my legs, for various reasons, not the least of which was my Mom telling me when I was, oh about 13 years old, that my thighs were really big - bigger than hers, in fact (my Mom was also 5' 2" and less than 100 pounds before she had kids). Just the kind of thing to say to a girl at the beginning of puberty who has self esteem issues, right?

Anyways, I went to a whole bunch of stores, and tried on something like 100 pairs of shorts. At a certain point I was going to give up, because trying on 100 pairs of shorts, of various different styles, colors and lengths, most of which DID make me feel like my ass or my hips or my thighs were huge is very, VERY bad for my self-image. But after much pain and many, many hours searching and trying, I actually found 3 pairs I liked. And even though Magenta warned me a couple of months ago that they would be a huge step (considering I don't own shorts), one of the pairs are knee length "walking" or "dress" shorts. Heck, the pair fit so well and were soooo comfortable, and I actually liked the way they looked, I figured I'd give it a try.

I'm going to wear the "dress shorts" to work tomorrow - mainly because they turn the AC off in the building over the weekend, and it's going to be a sauna there tomorrow, but also because I want to see how they go over. This may be the beginning of a new stage of fashion for me. Or, perhaps, I'll just be comfortable this summer.

We're not weird. We're just ... different.

One of the interesting things that I've had to deal with in my new temporary job is having to deal with a disgruntled employee (DE) who has been terminated, whose last day of work is tomorrow. Beginning with emails emploring me, if I have any influence at all, to give him another chance, to lashing out during group meeting at his mentor for doing things "behind his back." Frankly, this person was released from his job for lack of performance, and it's pretty obvious, even to me, who has known this person for all of a week.

The confrontation in group meeting began because I gave DE a document back because I did not understand how he came to his decision. If I'm going to put my signature on a document, I need to understand how the decision was made. I simply could not. The argument started with DE blaming is mentor for lack of mentoring and then escalated to him talking about how he was unfairly treated. I told him I would speak to him about the document, and only the document, after meeting.

During this after meeting conversation, DE continued to try to give me all the reasons why it was unfair that he had been fired and why I should give him another chance. I repeatedly told him that the decision was made, I had no influence over it, and I wanted to discuss the document. The conversation kept going around and around for 20 minutes. I should have closed the door, but I didn't think of it at the time. And the conversation was heated enough (read: kinda loud, but not yelling), that the Associate Director poked her head in to see if everything was okay.

After it was over, Lisa came by to see if everything was okay. In her words, "I don't think I've ever heard that tone of voice from you before." You know, that firm but serious tone. But why would she? Needless to say, I think I demonstrated that even though I am here temporarily, I'm not going to take crap.

Later on in the day, at the point where I was pretty much chilled out, another member of my branch (whom I had known only as the Guy Who Slapped His Dummy During CPR Class) pops in for this amusing commentary:

GWSHDDCC: I just wanted to let you know that we're not weird. We're just different.

Me: (as I'm laughing) Thank you. Did I ever mention that I thought you guys were weird.

GWSHDDCC: No. But not all our meetings are like that, and not all of us are like that.

Me: Oh, I know.

GWSHDDCC: But I wanted to let you know just in case. It's like a kid who steals milk and says he didn't do it before anyone accuses him, but he's standing there with a milk mustache.

Me: Oh, I see. Well thank you. And I'll take that into consideration.

Seriously. I should not be ALLOWED to come into the office on Wednesdays.

Why? Because I am a total hot mess on Wednesdays. See, Wednesdays are usually my work at home days. But for the last couple of weeks, I've been in charge, which means no working at home. Problem is, it seems like whenever I come to the office on Wednesday, a whole bunch of stuff just goes wrong.

This morning, I had to fight with the dog to lock him in the bedroom because the workmen are FINALLY coming to paint the wall from the ceiling leak (which occurred a month ago - but we won't go there). Then, running late (see fight with dog), the lid pops off my mug and tea spills all over the car. After spending a bunch of time cleaning it up, I prepare to leave, grab my new sunglasses and the arm falls off (screw came out). I hadn't even left the freakin' garage yet! I nearly said screw it and walked back upstairs, but I have too much crap to do and meetings today.

Well, I'm here, at my desk. My sunglasses are fixed - I have a repair kit in my desk. (Hey, I work in ophthalmic products. Of course I have a repair kit.) I realized I didn't lose that much of my tea, and I am enjoying it now. And I am trying to get perspective on the fact that it's all good. I will be fine. And later I will have a good laugh about it. Well... maybe tomorrow.

Bah! Humbug!

I should have left over an hour ago. It's 5pm on the 21st. I wrote on my timesheet I was leaving at 4pm because I have about a bazillion things I need to do before going to New York tomorrow. And I considered that when I handed in my timesheet and wrote 4pm. But I'm still here. Why? Because Patsy didn't get his file done. And I'm in charge of my branch today. Which means I need to stay until he's done and I sign it out. I could blame other people for the slowness of the workflow. I could. But I won't. Because he's the team leader and it's ultimately his responsibility to get shit done. And he's very passive-aggressive on days when I'm in charge and he has something due. He holds everything close to his chest and doesn't give me updates. Won't let me look at stuff. Tries to bypass me to and have the director look at it instead. Except on days, like today, she's incredibly busy. And doesn't have time to do the primary edits, which she tells him to give to me (which he should have done in the first place).

I'm annoyed. Annoyed beyond words. Because I have so much crap to do. Far too much. And I have NO IDEA when I will be leaving. None.

Seriously, you can't make this crap up

We decorated our Division Christmas tree today. When I was nearly done putting the finishing touches on the tree, one of our secretaries (SM) comes by for a chat:

SM: It's so nice that you guys are decorating.
Me: Thanks. It's our pleasure.
SM: You're doing a really nice job.
All: Thanks.
SM: (to me) You've done a nice job on the tree. It looks really nice.
Me: Why, thank you very much.
SM: Of course, I'm nearly blind, so you really can't take my word for it.
Me: Oh! That's rough.
SM: I'm just kidding (giggles as she walks away)

General collective groan from all.

Seriously, though, she is actually almost blind (trust me, the irony that she works in the Division of Ophthalmics has not escaped us). I just couldn't believe she said it.

Define me

LadyNil -- [noun]: A lewd street performer 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

Hrm... Not so sure about this one. Lewd? Thanks, CawfeeGuy.

Oh, boy. What a surprise.

Gee. Flight delays and baggage mishandlings increased in the month of July. And it's the worst since 1995. Hmmm. Why am I not surprised?

One of those days...

Let's re-live a blast from the past. The details have been changed since then in terms of the morning routine. The part that didn't change from this post from the past: my mug of tea committing suicide from the roof of my car. And me standing there, blank-faced and staring as my tea was running through the crevices of the asphalt.

Thank god it's not Monday, or else I would have just gone back home and ridden the rest of the week off.

American Airlines SUCKS!

And I am never flying on them again. Now, nothing can ruin the fact that I had a fabulous vacay with my fabulous girlfriends (more on this later, with pictures). But, I did come home on a very big downer. My flight was supposed to be at 5:35pm Tuesday. When I got to the airport, I was told that the flight was delayed until 7:20pm. That sucks, but I can deal. By the time I got to the gate, the flight wasn't leaving until 7:45pm. Also, a little bit longer, and I'm getting more agitated, but I can deal. Then comes the announcement, first in Spanish. The only things I recognize are 6:30 and mañana. Then it comes in English. The flight has been canceled for the evening and will not leave until 6:30am the following morning. The pilot has gone over his flying hours and the only plan they had was to beg the pilot to do the last flight. Yeah, THAT was going to work. So we all have to go downstairs, get our luggage and they would put us all up in hotels for the night.

I go to get my hotel voucher. Ask the guy what hotels they are putting us up in. He says the Best Western, why? I give him the "Oh, God, you've GOT to be kidding" face and say, "Well, there are certain hotels I would just rather not stay in, being a woman traveling alone and all." He books me at the Marriot. I wake up at the ass crack of dawn to get to the airport. Take a million years to get through security. Make it to the gate in time to hear the last boarding call. But get on the plane, get myself an emergency row seat with more leg room and quickly fall asleep. It's no time before we're landing in DC. I'm nearly home. It's 10:30am.

I go to baggage claim to get my one checked bag. And wait. And wait. And wait some more. There's a couple minutes pause. Then bags from another flight start coming out. WHAT THE EF?!? Where is my bag??? I go to the counter and find out that they have no idea where my bag is. It was never scanned. They assume it's still in the San Juan Airport, but they don't know for sure. This is the point I completely lost it. Standing at the counter crying my eyes out, totally frustrated with the whole ordeal.

I finally got home at about 1pm yesterday. Slept for almost the rest of the day. The good thing is they called this morning and have my bag at Dulles. They'll be delivering it later today. I'm glad for that. But this is the second time in three years that American Airlines has left me stranded overnight on the way back from Puerto Rico.

I'm never flying American Airlines again. They suck.

Update 12:55pm: My bag has been delivered. All is right. American Airlines still sucks.

Freewheeling Leader - what the hell does that mean?

Free-Wheeling Leader

Some of this is true. But the part that says, "You don't mind being in the spotlight, preferring social gatherings to quiet nights at home," I'm not so sure about...

(don't ask about the plate, because trust me, I have no idea either)

This past weekend in NY was all about friends and family. I went up to attend Dennis and Karen's baby shower. They are expecting little Darrien in about a month now and Karen definitely has the pregnant lady shuffle going on (terribly cute on her, by the way).

This is their first baby, and I always get all excited about buying baby stuff. I just like baby stuff - it's all cute and soft and fun, and really I want to play with everything. I bought a whole bunch of stuff off their registry at Target. Wrapped it up all nice and pretty.

I'm on my way up to NY, about an hour out of DC, having just gotten on the Harbor Tunnel Thruway (I895, for those who care). I was thinking that I should move the chocolates I have from the trunk into the car so they don't melt. Then I thought to myself, "What did I do with those chocolates? I don't remember putting them in the car." Then I remembered that I put them in the bag with one of the baby shower gifts... which was sitting on the dining room table. FUCK.

I frantically call up Turg and explain that the bags are on the table. He says to turn around. Well, turning around was not an option as far as I was concerned for two reasons: (1) I895 has NO EXITS until you pass through the tunnel, which, at that point, was another 15 minutes away, and (2) I was already an hour out, plus the extra 15 minutes before I could even consider turing around, which would add another 2 1/2 hours onto my trip. He was kind enough to suggest meeting me in Baltimore with the gift. And as I'm going through the tunnel, I'm thinking of all the possible places he could meet me. I settle on Towson, since there is a Petsmart there and I could get out of the car with Thor for a little while. Then I realized there was a Target in the same shopping center, and I could possibly rebuy the gifts. Which brought me to the fact that there's a Target near home in Brooklyn, and I could do the same there when I arrived in NY. Which is exactly what I did. *whew*

Of course, being the person that I am, I bought exactly the same stuff (with the exception of a couple of things they didn't have, and which will be sent to the parents to be), and wrapped it exactly the same, as if anyone besides me would know that the gift bag was different. But, then again, I am the one who was going to NY for a baby shower and forgot the gift on the dining table, so what does that say about me?

I like cheese, alright? Get off my back... (or things one should never say to a woman at a wedding reception)

This weekend was filled with much joy and laughter because of Crazy and SweetPea's wedding. At the rehearsal dinner Friday night, Turg gave Crazy this book as a gag:

The book was passed around and around at the rehearsal dinner, the reception and the day-after party. Big hit. Women all knew it was a fantasy (it's porn afterall) and (most of) the men found humor in it, particularly since they knew just how far fetched a lot of the stuff in it was... like, "Have another piece of cake. I don't like you looking so thin." See, fantasy.

Which brings me to the things that one should never say to a woman at a wedding reception (or any gathering with food, for that matter). Let me just say, like MS, I don't eat like a girl. I eat well, and healthily, but definitely not like a girl. I'll eat a steak over chicken anyday. I can outeat almost anyone at sushi or a crabhouse. And I love cheese - lots of cheese.

All of the following statements were made by one guy, my friend Lisa's husband, Gary, with whom I play softball (Lisa happens to play and is the manager of this team).

• (after spreading some brie on bread) "Is that sanctioned by team management? Should you be eating all those CARBS and FAT?"
• (after getting my plate from the dinner buffet) "Did you leave any food out there?"
• (general comment at the end of the evening) "I'm just looking out of the team. I don't want all this food to slow you down."

He kept looking to others for help. Crazy's brother just repeated, "Put the shovel DOWN!" But Gary wouldn't, and continued digging himself deeper all evening. In reality, I know he was just kidding. But, seriously now, who says this shit, even in jest?

The piles are going to attack soon

So, since I am taking a couple of days off to help in the final preparations for Crazy and SweetPea's wedding, I essentially have been jamming to get as much done as possible. I don't like leaving loose ends when I'm away, even if it's only for a couple of days. I'd been doing rather well, and was feeling quite proud of myself for it. Of course, nothing is ever that easy, nor does life ever let you get off with a free pass.

For those who have never been in my office at work, I have a system. It's the "Post-It" system of easily knowing when things are due. Neat piles on shelves with little Post-it notes telling me when and to whom things are due. Team-lead documents on one shelf, consult documents on another, and on my desk, only the document on which I am currently working and any related references.

My piles were shrinking before I went to the Motherland this past weekend. That is, until right before I left. Documents started coming in. Coming in great teetering piles. More due in the next 2 weeks than I had at the beginning of last week. There are piles encroaching on my desk, and it makes me anxious. My preference is to have anything due in the next week finished before I take the day off, because I am a hand-raiser in that way... far too type A than I am usually willing to admit. I like having things done early. But for this, I can't. There is just no way. Just. No. Way. And I hate that feeling.

I think I may implode.

Hot or not?

I just finished this article and felt it would be so incredibly unfair to not share. What happens when you realize you are part of an "inter-facial" relationship? When you and the one you're with are not in the same "hotness" category? When you look at a couple with a hot girl and a dorky guy and think, "he must be loaded" - (Donald Trump anyone?).


I know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and this is all superficial. But we all think it at one time or another. And, let's face it, this shit's just funny.