Friday, August 31, 2007

it's way too early for this. please just give me my coffee. . and 45 freakin' munckins.

all summer long, i've had to train people. i've tried to be a really nice trainer and do things like give them candy and bring them baked goods because i feel bad for every poor sucker that has to sit through my 3 hour presentation.

but since the broken rib impedes my baking ability (how much does that suck), i decided to stop off and pick up some dunkin donuts for the poor saps.

i went to a dunkin donuts i never go to, but it's on my way to work. it always looks dead - which at 7:30 on any morning seems bizarre. but whatever. i pull into the parking lot - which is no easy feat because it seems like i'm pulling onto the entrance ramp to the highway when i do so. the parking lot is empty. practically.

i walk in and there are 7 people working. and no line. usually, you'd think "I'm so freaking lucky!" but that's before you talk to them.

i ask for two boxes of 45 assorted munchkins. which seems pretty basic. i haven't bought them in a while, but last time i did, it wasn't an issue.

the girl looks at me, pauses, and says.. "uh okay." and proceeds to shove munchkins by the handfuls into this little box. okay- so they don't count. i get it. they just fill the box. whatever.

the girl standing next to her who witnessed this entire exchange says: are you all set? and i think - she can't be talking to me. which wasn't as easy to figure out as you'd think because a) she was cross-eyed and b) there was another customer who came in after me. so i say nothing. and then she ma'ams me. "ma'am, what did you get?" okay, you were standing there, but i'll bite.

"two boxes of 45 assorted munchkins."
"uh..... we only sell them in 25 and 50."
you'd think the first girl would have told me that before.. um.. trying to shove 45 into one box? or trying to figure out how to put exactly 45 munchkins in two boxes? i couldn't figure out the method. i just said "fine- whatever she gave me. can i also get a medium iced decaf regular?"

"uh... do you want cream and sugar?"
isn't that what regular is? "yes, please."
"and.. uh.. not like french vanilla?"
"no. regular. decaf. iced. medium."

it wasn't until i got to work that we discovered the rest.
guy who works with me: "munchkins! awesome- what kind?"
me: "two boxes of assorted. one's for training.."
guy: "these aren't assorted.."

she had separated out, it seems, three kinds into one box, three kinds into another. i think if i had asked for 5 boxes, it would have been one box of each kind.

and this folks was all before i had my first coffee.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Even if the rows weren't that straight...

To quote SJ, "I broke my rib, not my funny bone" (which, by the way, is how she filled me in on the seriousness of her injury... after I had mocked her on the Internet while thinking she was just fine, if a little bruised). Anyway, not breaking her funny bone means SJ has no excuse not to post.

But I think it's my turn now and I'm going to use the floor to brag a little. There have been various times when it's hit me that I was actually a homeowner. Like when we had been living in our house for a week or so and no one showed up to kick us out. And during all the hours of peeling wallpaper and pulling up rugs (and no one arriving to yell at us for tearing apart their house). And the big one was writing the check for our mortgage.

This week marked another milestone in the KAT becomes a grown-up journey. I mowed the lawn! With a push mower and everything (even if it was a bit of a cheat because it has front-wheel drive). I did mow the lawn a couple times growing up but it was with a riding mower and it rarely happened because my dad enjoyed doing it too much (it may have had something to do with the hat he wore that had straws from his mouth up to two cans of beer, but you never know...)

Anyway, the Pretend Husband "let me" mow the other night. And... that's about it. I don't know, it wasn't really fun. But it wasn't terrible either. Perhaps a little boring. But it did solidify the homeowner thing. Because I put way too much effort into it to give up the house now.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

mock me and my fragility.

so KAT emails me: "I hope you don't mind, but i blogged about your inability to walk and carry a plate at the same time." she was concerned that it would have offended me and my delicate sensibilities. actually, she didn't think so, but the PH told her that it in fact would offend me.

so she was just covering her bases: "you're fine, right?"

as it turns out, i wasn't exactly fine. i broke a rib. i mean, i guess it happens. it's not like this was my big excuse not to hug my extended family members at shower that i still attended despite my fragile condition.

(which was followed by a voice mail that said: "you BROKE YOUR RIB?!")

here's how it happened. i was barefoot in the kitchen - insert joke here about it being my usual place - and walking towards the living room. i was carrying both a plate and a glass, and tripped - or actually, it was more like a slip. and because instinct was to protect my pizza, i lifted my arms when i fell, and happened to land square into the corner of an end table, full weight of the corner jutting into my ribs, under my arm. ouch!

j's reaction was, well, to laugh. to laugh, and come immediately to my rescue. "how on earth did you do that?"

i was crumpled against the wall, whimpering. my pizza and juice had launched into the living room. bailey was too afraid of the crash to investigate, however. it definitely knocked the wind out of me.

i had it checked out on Monday. by now, the bruise has actually faded, but you can actually see what appears to be the broken part. or at least the badly hit part. it was just blue and black and a little purpley. then it was mostly black and purpley. and then it was yellow and black. and now it's yellow, black with a big red line, and it's very swollen. when i put my arms down, it feels like on one side, i'm inflated. kind of like i've had side breast implants. but only on one side. and really a lot less attractive, i would imagine.

and it hurts. a lot.

also, one must feel for my poor husband, as i had to undergo a lot of questions. and yes, i feel fine with my relationship, and not at all threatened. (now i know what poor steve must feel like...) he really is a gentle man. but when we visited my parents the other day, my dad asked him "what are you doing to my daughter...?"

"just trying to keep her in line..." he responded.

well, not really.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

I'm willing to take some crap for this...

SJ is a blogger- she writes, she posts comments to what I write, she takes my suggestions for other blogs to visit and even occasionally leaves comments on those blogs.

I, on the other hand, am a BLOGGER. I have a long list of blogs I visit everyday (sometimes refreshing the pages multiple times to see if they've been updated yet and yes, I have gotten a little miffed that the writers I love to read had the audacity to only update once that day!) I also try to leave comments on all those blogs (although not on a daily basis) because I have heard that that's a great way to bring traffic to your own blog. It's a lot of pressure to live up to the FunnyGal KAT moniker, but I try.

My latest BLOGGER adventure was checking on a Website that gave our blog a rating, much like they do for movies. I decided not to put the little insignia on our sidebar purely because it clashed with the colors of our template, but I'm happy to announce that FunnyGals is official rated "PG."

Actually, I'm a little disappointed. All our talk about bikini waxing and where babies come from and other illicit activities and we still only managed to knock it up one notch from "G"?!? The reasoning for the PG, according to the Website that does the rating, was our use of the word "crap" twice and use of the word "drugs" once (and that was SJ talking about taking medication for a migraine... oooh, we're edgy!)

In an effort to kick things up a notch, all I have to say is, "I can't believe how high I got on those motherf-ing drugs last night. Boy, is heroin fun! Much better than cocaine! But I still prefer alcohol as my drug of choice. Tequila! Vodka! Gin! You feel like crap the next day, though." (How lame is this? Even when trying to be all badass, I still shortened "motherf-ing" so as not to offend anyone!)

Um, take that, PG rating!

Monday, August 27, 2007

At least this time she didn't break anything!

The reason it is the middle of a Monday afternoon and I'm just now posting is NOT because nothing interesting has happened lately. On the contrary, I have plenty to share about this weekend. I held off because I was giving SJ the chance to recap our happy hour(s) on Friday because I figured she would do a much better job capturing how fun it was and how mobbed we were by people who read this blog and finally got to meet us in real life (Hi Anonymous' former co-workers! Yes, you all know how much I'm exaggerating. By mobbed, I meant, you waved politely from the corner and left us to our drinks. I think maybe you were a little intimidated is all.)

Anyway, this is the space where SJ would be writing about how much our wrists hurt from all the autograph signing (or perhaps it was the lifting of those heavy martini glasses) but it seems she has had the kind of mishap SJ has come to perfect. I haven't spoken with her, but the second-hand account said something about the combination of walking, carrying a plate and breathing being a little too much for her and she fell onto a coffee table and injured her side. Seriously. I don't think I'm exaggerating this time. I think she was walking and suddenly fell. There doesn't seem to be any cause for it, but I do think she should practice with, oh, walking and chewing gum before she goes for the complicated stuff like carrying a plate.

Oh SJ, this is why we'll be the best of friends for the rest of our lives, but you will never be the first person I call when I want to go whitewater rafting or skiing or running or even walking. At this point, I'm a little worried about you making down the aisle unscathed! Get well soon!

Friday, August 24, 2007

Boozing it up with the Pretend In-laws

Go ahead, tell me how lucky I am. In fact, don’t bother. I know that not everyone gets to have the type of in-laws I’m about to have. The kind who love Molly to death, will drop what they’re doing to let her out when we’re stuck at work, who bring us silly gifts when they go on vacation (the PH has been sporting an air-brushed T-shirt proclaiming him “Molly’s Dad”), who I genuinely enjoy being around… oh yeah, and with whom I can get drunk to celebrate birthdays.

I shouldn’t say “drunk” since I was driving. But let’s just say I had a moment of “oh crap, I can totally feel this drink, I’d better eat a lot to soak up the alcohol so I’m sober enough to drive us all home.” I didn’t want to have to make the choice between asking the Pretend Father-in-Law to drive (he has some medical issues and would definitely be the last choice in the bunch) or getting pulled over and having to go through the field sobriety test while my in-laws looked on from the back seat.

Perhaps I should back up a bit. Two weeks ago, we took the Pretend Father-in-Law out for his birthday. We went to a Chinese restaurant, had some food and went home. Well, Pretend Mother-in-Law’s birthday was this week and she wanted to go back to the same restaurant. But this time we thought we’d order drinks too. The PMIL got a Scorpion Bowl for one while the Pretend Husband and I decided to split a Volcano for Two (yeah, the one with flaming alcohol in the middle). I had about three sips and started to feel it. I had about three more sips and spent the rest of the meal trying to sober up.

So the PMIL helped the PH with the rest of his very large drink. And that’s where things got fun. She can be a bit ditzy when she’s sober so you can imagine the questions she asks when she’s been drinking. One of the best parts of the evening was when a woman at a nearby table said, “I need a manicure” and the PMIL said to us (as though we were the ones who said it) “I could use a manicure too. I want to get a French manicure before the wedding.”

But the highlight of the evening was when she looked over at the PFIL and said, “You need a haircut. Do you want me to cut your hair when we get home?”

Oh man, I would have paid good money if she had! Anyone else have a mother-in-law capable of sending water out your nose while you’re trying to drink?

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

You know, just because you work at a technology firm, people expect you to understand technology.

Okay. I changed the font. So you may not all like Times New Roman (or um.. some sans serif font if you're looking on a Mac, the superior machine, no doubt), but this is the best I can do under such pressure.

Also, I thought it'd be an abuse of power if I asked the guy that works for me and actually spends all day working with HTML emails, etc., so instead, I just kind of fiddled with the tags until it looked about right. And before you all start mocking my poor HTML skills, let me just say that I am a Jack of all trades, master of none.

Except, you know, like master of my domain. Actually, after j - you know? Forget it. I'm not going to go further with that statement. (Hi Mom!)

I have been checking out the blogs that KAT has mentioned which really are fantastic, although I am a bit of a lurker, I confess - and I'm starting to leave my comfort zone of Molly and Chris (Look out world!) So soon, I too will have reading recommendations.

That means - S and anonymous, get on getting your own blogs up and running, ladies, so we can link you!

And so ends your regularly scheduled monthly update from SJ. Next up: KAT, who has a much funnier life than me. Which is sad, because we spend so much time together, that you'd think I'd be having equal amounts of fun. Not so much. Except, of course as we all know, when I get together with my family.

Which reminds me, this weekend I have a family bridal shower. Hilarity will ensue. I promise. I'll be attending with anonymous and my mother. The only thing that would make this one more fun is if my gynecologist shows up. Who, incidentally, is also my sister and my mother's gynecologist.

Too much information, you say? Perhaps, but it does make me think that she would have, hands down, the world's funniest blog.

Rantings from a crazy bride-to-be

I was really excited to get home from work yesterday and check the mail because it was the first possible day to get an RSVP card for our wedding. And I knew I wouldn’t be disappointed because a friend had already told me hers was on the way. So, I opened the mailbox expecting to find one of those little white envelopes… and found 12! That’s 24 people who want to come to our wedding!

Here’s what ran through my mind:
* Yay! We are loved by at least 24 people! It’s going to be a fun wedding! Whoo!

* Do I even know 24 people? I guess I do.

* Oh crap! What if everyone who received an invitation wants to come? (We need 20 people to say no, due to the restrictions at the place we’re having the reception)

* I wonder if SJ will be able to come? What if she’s busy that day? The bridal party will be uneven! (Actually, it would make the bridal party even if she missed the wedding, but again uneven if she kept her hubby home with her. This is all very complicated and not very important. As long as she can make it. OK, I’m overthinking this.)

Then the Pretend Husband came home, listened as I went through the list of people who can make it, listened as I lamented that we could be screwed if at least a couple don’t start responding with “no” and then said, “Is there anyone I forgot to invite? Let me go through my phone and see if I missed anyone.”

That’s when I told him in a very calm voice that I had been working on the invite list for months and had spent many, many, MANY hours putting the invitations together by hand and had asked him multiple times if there was anyone he wanted to add to the list. Then I punched him in the head for even bringing it up. The End.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

Good Lord, we live in the ghetto!

Sunday night, after a pleasant dinner with the Pretend In-laws, the Pretend Husband and I had some options about how to spend the rest of the evening. Rent a video and cuddle on the couch while we watch it? Sprawl on the guest room bed and watch sports? Get into bed early and play Rummy?

All great options, but we chose to go with d.) Pay bills and make a late-night run to the post office and bank. Much more romantic than the other choices, for sure.

So, the PH packed Molly and I into his car and away we went for a bit o’ late-night fun. Our first stop was the grocery store, where Molly and I stayed in the car while the PH ran in to do some banking. And that’s when the fun began.

I heard a woman’s voice from a nearby car and, while she was obviously angry, I couldn’t hear what she was saying. Then I saw a skinny guy walk away from said car and when he tried to return to it, the very large woman behind the wheel drove away laughing.

The guy started yelling at her as Molly and I craned our necks to watch the action. “Don’t drive away from me! Where are you going? I’m going to beat yo’ ass. Ashley!”

The woman stopped the car and the guy got in, but they stayed where they were in the middle of the road and began yelling. Again, Molly and I (and a woman who I swear was doing drugs in her car while her sons did the grocery shopping) couldn’t hear what was going on until we heard Ashley scream, “You broke it!” and then hit the guy (the PH and I have some guesses about what “it” is– the PH says something like her video game unit, but I think it was a promise not to cheat on her). She then yelled at him to get out of the car and drove off while he walked out of the parking lot (although I suspect she picked him up because he was nowhere to be seen on our drive home).

So, it was an exciting night in our little ol’ hometown. It definitely kept Molly entertained, although I think she was a little disgusted by the whole thing. Her only comment when we asked her what she thought was, “Save yo’ drama for yo’ mama!” (because, apparently, Molly’s a little bit ghetto too).

Monday, August 20, 2007

ma'am'd. dammit.

i was ma'amed this weekend. twice in fact. the first time i was buying alcohol, so that was a little depressing. granted, it could have been my "do you have any roses blended from pinot noir?" question that tipped them off that i may be over 21. it also could have been the fine lines and wrinkles appearing around my eyes.

which brings me to my second ma'aming, which led to a mighty internal dialogue diatribe.

i was at sephora, buying a foundation in aligihter shade than what came with my little kit. i recently switched over to bare essentials make up. i'm probably spelling that wrong, but you know the one. it's mineral make up. i have very sensitive skin and someone recommended it to me, so i thought i'd brave the mall to get some. they only sell it - to my knowledge - at sephora, which is a store that absolutely intimidates me since the only make i wear is usually lipstick and mascara (and usually a very light foundation). i had gone last week and bought the starter kit.

i've been using it all week, delighted with it, but thought that as the very little summer color that i have starts to fade, i should get a lighter foundation.

last week when i had gone for the makeup, i was accosted by a helpful but scary sephora worker of amazonian proportions, who admired my "porcelein quality" and "minimal signs of aging." i was affronted that she should even mention the word aging. she took my face with her huge mitts and examined me carefully under very scary lighting and a very scary magnifying mirror.

so i walk into sephora for the second time in a week. pony tail. mineral make up, looking very au natural. jeans, long sleeve tee shirt, etc. i make my way over to the kiosk selling my make up and it is wall to wall with 20 year old models. crap. i really wanted to check out the eye liner shadow, and maybe the concealer to hide my freckles (or, apparently, age spots), etc. but there was no way i was breaking through the brick wall of seven jeans, fake tans and babydoll tops.

i waited for a hole, and then delicately reached an arm in with a quick "excuse me." thankfully, my hand reached through correctly and snagged a "fair" jar of foundation. i made a b-line for the counter. and that's where it happened:

"did you find everything you wanted, ma'am?"

mentally, i lost it. my initial internal dialogue was to react with:
"ma'am? really? look, child, with blue eyeliner and bee-stung lips that make you look like you're allergic to whatever you're wearing, i am NOT a ma'am. you don't see my purchasing the lancome anti-aging whatever, do you? no. you do not. you see me purchasing the same makeup that the 18 year old teeny boppers are wearing. what about me makes me a ma'am?"

instead, i smiled and said that was it. i figured if i complained about the hordes of teens at the counter blocking my way to the goods made me sound even older.

and then i went home and made cupcakes. the end. and i also slathered on some moisturizer with age-defying vitamin c.

Friday, August 17, 2007

I just licked 80 envelopes... blech!

Well, I jinxed myself. I revealed on Wednesday that I was trying to post every day this week. And then I missed posting on Thursday. But I'm OK with it. I left work early because I was feeling quite crappy with stuffed sinuses, a drippy nose and puffy eyes. It was a sad sight until I got home and medicated myself right up.

But the good news is that, after staying up late with the Pretend Husband last night, I am able to check an item off of our wedding "to do" list... and it's a BIG item. Our invitations are signed, sealed and on their way to being delivered! Yay!

With this, the stripping of the wallpaper in the kitchen I've been doing and everything I've finished for work this week, I'm not sure I can handle being so productive. What if it raises everyone's standards and I'm expected to get this much done every week?!?

On a separate note, it continues to freak me out when I mention something to my friends and they say, "I know, I read about it on the blog." I think, like when I was a newspaper reporter, I tend to forget that there are real, live people on the other end reading what I write. I think I may need to start holding back a little on the blog so I have some original material when I see people in real life! Otherwise, what's the motivation for anyone to hang out with me?

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Summer reading recommendations

I gave myself a little goal this week of posting everyday and managed to keep it up for two whole days and now... three whole days! Whoo-hoo! Go me! (I think this deserves a chocolate martini!) Of course, I probably jinxed myself and now you won't get anything new from me for another week or two (but that's why I share this space with SJ, right? So she'll pick up the slack?)

I don't know if this is cheating (how can it be cheating when it's my goal and I make the rules?!?) but rather than writing about my completely fabulous life, I'm going to point you toward a couple of other completely fabulous people.

I just updated our links on the right just a bit and added three new sites to help you waste time at work (not that I know anything about that!). The first (which is actually listed second, just to be confusing) is by someone SJ and I know in real life. He's a sports photographer who just started a blog about what that's like. You may not be the biggest sports fan (I'm not), but I think it would be nice if you'd drop by and leave him a comment. I mean, I remember back in the day (last week) when I would post and get no comments. And now, look at us go!

Another great site is Midwestern Mommy... and I'm not just saying that because she sometimes reads this blog and even leaves us comments (but we call her Lisa instead of Mommy... that'd be weird). She just sent her son off to kindergarten today and could probably use some love (I know nothing about what it's like to send your child to school, but can relate with her drowning her sorrows with ice cream... boy, can I relate!)

Lastly, check out Passive Aggressive Notes. A different note is posted everyday and they are hysterical (and usually crazy). It's amazing what kind of notes people put up at work when no one restocks the creamer or whatever.

Feel free to wander through those recommendations. But, don't stray too far. Y'all come back now, ya hear?

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

A rude awakening

In the cottage we lived in before we bought our house, the full size bed was shared by Molly, me and the Pretend Husband (just kidding, Dad. He had his own room waaaaay on the other side of the house. Maybe even in a different house altogether). Yes, it was tight, but it worked out well in the winter when we were more likely to wake up to a 42-degree cold front in our bedroom than a toasty warm feeling.

Just a few months ago, we upgraded our bed to a queen size to give us all a bit more room (you would not believe how much room a 15-pound Peekapoo can take up!) All seemed to be going well… until this week. The past two mornings, I’ve woken out of a deep sleep, rolled over to put my arm over the PH… and met up with a very furry being. Instead of the PH, I got Molly… stretched out in all her glory on the PH’s side of the bed.

At first, I thought maybe they switched places, so I checked the end of the bed and the floor next to it, but the PH was nowhere to be found. Turns out, he’s been sleeping in the guest room (on the full-size bed he complained about so often!) when our bed gets too crowded. Molly seems to have a habit of crawling up the bed over a number of hours until she’s right next to the PH, which is when she starts spreading out in all directions, sending him to the edge of the bed. Personally, I sleep through all this, but the PH is a light sleeper and gets to the point where he can’t take it anymore and he leaves.

Molly seems to be winning the battle of the bed for now. But I’m hoping the PH takes a stand soon– even with morning breath, I like his kisses better than Molly’s.

and bring on the censors.

i was going to post an entry on what i did on saturday night, but then i remembered that i had given the url for our blog to my mom.

so nevermind. i prayed, cooked dinner, did some sewing and went to bed by 9:30.

well not really, but let's just say j and i had an adventure that took us to an exit off of 84 near the Brainard airport. if you're from ct, you'll get that reference. if you're not from ct, i'm sorry. i'll have to think of more hints to drop. but anyway - we went to a store and met some very interesting people. well not *met*. more like cautiously and distantly observed.

this story is getting away from me.

anyway - the rest of my weekend was fairly quiet. thank goodness, as my weeks are anything but quiet these days. as to the cupcake front, i did make some killer ones last week with mocha frosting, dipped in oreos. the next batch i'm thinking of going non-chocolate. lemon with coconut frosting. i'm also thinking of doing peanut butter and jelly cupcakes.

any votes?

Monday, August 13, 2007

Girls Gone (sort of) Wild

I survived! Four days of chocolate martinis, good friends, good food and a bit of work around the house mixed in. What a weekend (in a good way).

The fun actually began early last week when I spent hours cleaning the house from top to bottom (note to Mrs. Matt: I’m just kidding. My house is always that clean.) Vacuuming, changing sheets, scrubbing the bathrooms… The Pretend Husband commented that we should have people stay over every week if it will prompt me to clean (I may have thrown a sponge at his head for that one.)

But it was worth it because Thursday night was spent with five fabulous women and more than my share of chocolate martinis. It was almost like a marriage counseling session as we talked about all the issues of engagement and marriage– what to call your mother-in-law? (I call mine by her first name, Mrs. Cheech calls hers by a nickname and Mrs. Matt uses the “Hey, you!” approach). When are you planning to start having kids? (That’s the point where the PH and BAC took off at a full sprint for some guy bonding). Does your husband ever [fill in blank]? (“Oh yes, he does. And it’s very, very annoying. I wish he would stop!” was the general consensus.)

Fear not, our alcohol consumption was kept to levels low enough to allow us to wake up at a decent time the next morning and spend a couple of hours assembling wedding centerpieces. I am so grateful to Mrs. Cheech and Mrs. Matt for their hard work (and to Mrs. BAC for her offer to help if she hadn’t had to rush her husband to the doctor).

Having Mrs. Matt see our house for the first time– and the fact that some of the tour included, “What we’re going to do in here…”– was enough incentive for me to spend most of the rest of the afternoon peeling three layers of (ugly, ugly) wallpaper off part of the kitchen. And because yesterday wasn’t hot enough on its own, I fired up the steamer again to finish the project, leaving just one layer of wallpaper to take off the rest of the kitchen. The advantage was the free facial I gave myself and impressing Molly by making it rain from the ceiling when the steam built up and then began dripping.

Most of all, I was reminded about how good it feels to kick back with good friends, to share sweet drinks, to laugh until it hurts, to know that you’re not alone in some of the things you put up with, to have your wedding work diminished, to be able to look around the room and think, “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

To SJ, Mrs. Cheech, Mrs. Matt, Mrs. BAC and Max’s Mom… thanks! Now, when can we do it again?

Thursday, August 09, 2007

Thish ish sucsh a gooooood drink....

It’s FRIIIIIII-DAAAAAAYYYY! (Actually, it’s not. It’s Thursday. But I’m not drunk– yet. I should clarify that it’s MY Friday because I’m taking tomorrow off so, therefore, today feels like the last day of the workweek, otherwise known as Friday.)

Anyway, it’s my Friday. And, while I haven’t been drinking on Fridays lately because of that whole getting up early on Saturdays thing, I will be implementing a new rule tonight in honor of my day off. That rule is, when Thursday feels like a Friday and friends are in town, drink like you’re 23 (slightly more responsible than drinking like you’re 21, but still fun).

I have two wonderful members of our wedding party coming to visit tonight (for a sleepover). We will be joined by another wonderful wedding party member and two cool chicks for chocolate martinis, chocolate cupcakes (from Cupcakes by SJ or The Cupcakery or whatever she’s calling her business idea these days) and another chocolate dish. If those get boring, we can always pour chocolate syrup straight from the bottle into our mouths (you laugh, but I’ve done it).

I figure all this chocolate is a small price to pay for three of these ladies helping me assemble wedding centerpieces tomorrow. Man, it pays to know teachers! I’ll be back when the debauchery is done.

Monday, August 06, 2007

sj's fantasy world

here in sj's fantasy world, we've come up with an ulterior plan to all of that crazy boring office work we do each day.

the plan was hatched mostly on saturday when i decided that my new career path shall be in cupcakes. so an excursion to williams sonoma and the grocery store later, i was ready to go. and then kat and chris called to meet us for impromptu dinner at kat's cottage at the lake.

there wasn't time to make cupcakes.

so instead, i talked about my plans for cupcakes and how we could all four of us have our own cupcake business. i'm not sure what our roles would be exactly, but there must be something there for an attorney, a financial underwriter, a radio personality and editor and an operations manager for a marketing firm. perhaps the answer is not cupcakes, but right now, that's what i'm sticking to.

on sunday, i made three kinds of cupcakes, but i have yet to master the filling technique. i tried using a pastry bag, but that had little impact. i'm thinking i need to work with an injection gun of some sorts and perhaps a more pudding like filling. i'll fill you all in on that trial.

and now, back to work. things are breaking and need fixing. (do you think you could use frosting on a web server and it'd be okay?)

Thursday, August 02, 2007

Once I’ve mastered caller id, I plan to tackle that whole three-way calling thing

You’d think I would have learned my lesson last year when I got two calls from ex-boyfriends in the same week. Two calls from people I have no desire to talk to ever again and, in the case of one of them, ohmygodwehaventdatedinsevenyearssowhyareyoustillcallingme?!? We dated for three years so here it is– more than double the time we dated– and you’re still calling me why?

Obviously, when they called, I answered not knowing it was them because I had long ago erased their numbers from my phone (given that we had been broken up for so long, there was a reason for the break-up and we no longer have anything in common). So I instituted a new rule that has served me well for about a year: I don’t pick up calls from numbers I don’t recognize. Sure, I’ve missed a couple of crucial calls that way (such as the one from the vet after I called in a panic about something Molly had wrong with her). But that’s what voicemail is for, right? And for every important call I missed, I’m sure there were two unimportant ones I missed as well.

Well, yesterday wasn’t the best day for me. I got some bad news about a relative and was struggling with some work stuff. I had already gotten a call from someone I’m doing some work for (the number was vaguely familiar and I took the chance it was him because… well, because he writes me checks). Anyway, I was a little out of sorts when my phone rang and the number was unfamiliar, but sort of, perhaps, maybe it rang a bell and wasn’t I just talking to someone last week with a similar number?

So I answered it… and regretted the next seven minutes of my life. It was the ex-boyfriend, the one I dated for three years, then didn’t date for seven. The one who, whenever I think about him, I am so, so grateful that we broke up. I’m pretty sure I would have a divorce under my belt by now if we had gotten married (not that I’m revealing a secret engagement or anything, but after three years of dating, it was probably headed somewhere in that direction eventually).

Anyway, I suffered through the questioning, trying to be as vague as possible.
“Are you married?” “Not yet.”
“When are you getting married?” “November.”
“How’d you meet?” “Mutual friends.”
“What’s his name?” “[First name only]”
“Did your sister get married yet?” “Yes.”

And I asked him some questions because it seemed like a better option than having to reveal anything else about myself.
“Still married?”
“Still on the first wife?”
“Kids yet?”
Turns out he has a kid, which is nice for him, but seriously, I DON’T CARE. The only thing I feel about that is sorry for the kid.

Then he had the audacity to give me marriage advice! (Are you kidding me?) He advised me not to get drunk at the wedding and to realize that the day is all about the bride. What a jerk! Which is why, as soon as we got off the phone, I did save his phone number. But under the name “DO NOT ANSWER!” I can think of a couple of other numbers that may end up in there. But I should assure SJ that her number is not one of them (I was at the grocery store when you called last night and that’s the only reason I didn’t answer. I swear!)