I'm in danger of being reported to the fashion police

With kat's lil sis, her husband and the two cutest nephews in the world visiting this week, the Pretend Husband and I gave up our room and moved into the guest room. So, each night this week, I have gone up to our room to pick out my work clothes for the next day. Last night, I didn't because there was a clean basket of laundry in the guest room and I figured I could find my clothes there.

My only option this morning was a black thong under white capri pants. And wouldn't you know, this is the only morning this week that my nephews let their parents sleep in, so no one was awake when I left (and there's no way I was going to take a chance at waking two sleeping kiddos by going into my closet).

So, I'm sporting quite the look at work today. I'm laying low in my office and as far as I know, none of my coworkers have noticed my apparel (either that, or they're too polite to say anything). I figure it's better to have them staring at my butt than the huge, protruding belly in the front anyway!

You know you're really pregnant when MEN start noticing...

Today was a first. While I've had women ask me about my pregnancy, I think most men know not to ask questions until they are absolutely positive a woman is carrying a child and hasn't just packed on some pounds. And even if they know for sure, most men aren't going to get involved further than something innocent like, "How are you feeling?"

Which is why it's funny that my boss-- a man-- saw me turn sideways today and said loudly, "Wow! There's no hiding that!" while pointing at my stomach (not that I was trying to hide it anyway). I responded with, "Yup, definitely pregnant. I wasn't lying."

The conversation prompted a male customer standing nearby to begin asking me questions and talking about how awesome pregnancy and birth are (uh, ok...) While I have no problem swapping stories with women, it just felt strange to do it with a guy.

So, what do you think? Does this shirt make me look pregnant?

Can I tell you how funny I think it is that the PH went to take the picture and then said, "Oh, wait" and moved a bit so he could get "more of the pond in the photo." Yeah, because it's not like I was supposed to be the subject or anything. Got to make sure we can see the pond!

She's either pregnant or trying to shoplift a soccer ball under her shirt

Another milestone in pregnancy-ville: last week, for the first time, a stranger noticed I'm pregnant. I was helping a woman who had come into my office when she suddenly asked, "When are you due?" My first thought was: "September." And my second thought was: "Boy, are you brave!"

Because, I don't know about you, but I pretty much won't ask a woman I don't know about her pregnancy unless a) she's wearing a T-shirt proclaiming her current state or b) the baby is crowning while she breathes through the labor pains. Anything else is just risky.

I've heard a bunch of stories lately from people who asked others about their pregnancy, including a guy who was attending a wedding with his wife. Trying to make conversation with a couple at their table, he asked the woman, "When are you due?" and was mortified when she answered in a frosty tone, "I'm not pregnant." There is just no recovering from that, and the poor guy spent the rest of the reception not speaking to the people at his table.

And Kat's lil sis is still miffed at the fast food worker who, six weeks after she gave birth, looked her stomach and inquired about her due date.

Although I was surprised someone had the guts to ask about my pregnancy, I wasn't offended. It means I no longer look like I'm just packing on the pounds, but the weight gain actually looks like a pregnancy. Now, strangers coming up and touching my belly? That's a different story.

We'll add this to the list of things NOT to say to a pregnant woman

From a coworker this morning:

"How far along are you? 18 weeks? You look at least six months pregnant! Your belly definitely grew over the weekend!"

I will be sending out resumes to Internet companies this afternoon...

I had a work meeting this morning in which the topic of whether my company should develop more of a presence on the Internet came up. A lot of the people at the meeting are-- ahem-- quite a bit older than I am and don't really "get" the Internet. They use it rarely, if ever, and don't understand how it's used and why people prefer it over, say, a newspaper.

That's when I chimed in, giving examples of a search I did for a piano tuner, how I read the news not only on my computer, but on my phone, and how it's an easy way to look up local businesses. Then I said, "I never pick up a newspaper. I do everything on-line. I can't remember the last time I read an actual newspaper."

That's when I remembered I work for a newspaper. "Uh," I stammered. "I mean, a newspaper other than ours, of course." We'll see if I still have a job tomorrow.

Getting into the holiday spirit

It doesn't feel like Christmas. Yet. I'm working on getting into the right mood. I'm taking a look around to try and figure out what needs to be done so I can relax and enjoy the holiday. From what I've figured out so far, I need a little less of this...

And a lot more of this...

I'm participating in Rant & Rave Wednesday before my head explodes...

I've never done this before, but the idea popped up over at Little Ms. Blogger's place and I jumped on it because...

Rant: One of my employees is driving me insane. He's a pain in the butt on a good day, but has been extra annoying this week. I've spent more time on the the phone with him than all my other employees and my husband combined! I don't know if this guy's mom didn't give him enough attention growing up or what, but he feels the need to pass every little thing by me (in excruciating detail...) and then acts all hurt if I imply I don't need to hold his hand. Dude, just do your job, call me if there's a problem and leave me the heck alone if there isn't.

Rave: Dinner last night. I'm known for not being the greatest cook and especially for not being able to decide what to make without the Pretend Husband making suggestions. Yesterday, he asked me to take some sausage out of the freezer and mix it with spaghetti sauce in the Crockpot. Which I kept putting off doing until he called to say he was halfway home. So I quickly looked through the fridge and concocted an amazing omelet for him. I had never actually made an omelet before, but it turned out awesome.

Rant: Why did I blow that surprise on a random Tuesday when the PH's birthday is coming up and I've been forbidden to buy him anything and all I really have to surprise him with is a nice meal? Perhaps lightning will strike twice and I'll be able to come up with another new dish (and happen to have all the right ingredients laying around) again?

Rave: This weekend, I reconnected with someone I haven't talked to in a long time. And she and her husband (a big sports fan like the PH) live in our town, so she suggested we all get together. Not only that, but a good friend is moving only a few miles away from us next month. And has suggested we have regular dinner nights. I'm no longer feeling so isolated living in a town at least 20 minutes from anywhere I need to go.

Hey, this thing works! I was spitting mad when I started and feel much better already! Now if I can just figure out that birthday meal for the PH...

I should not be allowed to make promises before 10 a.m.

The wonderful Mollymoo at Exquisitely Wasted gave us this here award (I think it's because she thinks SJ and I are so demure and quiet about our lives and she just wants to know more about us). Also, I may have promised one of SJ's sisters that I would blog every day this week. I blame the fact that it was early in the morning and I hadn't yet hooked myself up to an IV bag of coffee. I wasn't thinking straight. (And SJ, I will cheat and not post if you do. How about we make it a "something gets posted everyday" week rather than "Kat posts everyday"? Good? Good.)

Oh, and just to make an incredibly long post even longer, I should explain that, although the rules of the award only say to share 10 things about yourself, I-- for some strange reason-- went with a job/career theme.

1. I have no desire to become a real estate agent (I don’t think I’d be great at negotiating deals), but I am positively addicted to real estate in general. I love going online and looking for houses for people (only people who are already looking themselves, I should add—I don’t try to persuade people to move). I may be freaking SJ out because every time she mentions a house she has seen or wants to see, I ask for the address and look it up online. The two of us may or may not have spent almost an hour on the phone recently going room-by-room through the photos of each of the five houses she had seen that day. I’m not admitting to anything.

2. I have never had any desire to be President. Or a nurse. Or have any career that would send me into the corporate world. Or do anything that involved science. Or be a flight attendant (I would not be able to keep a straight face in turbulence).

3. I spent a couple of summers and holiday vacations working as a waitress at a country club. It was a great job, for the most part, and it’s where I learned how to quickly and properly cut a wedding cake– a skill that has not really come into play for me since. The club members were all fairly cordial, but some of their kids were horrific and entitled. They liked to order the staff around as though we were their personal servants. I’m sure more than one of them was served an ice cream sundae that had been spit on (I never did it, but not all the wait staff were as classy as me…)

4. I have secretly considered getting my master’s degree and going into teaching. But not little kids. Perhaps at a college? Maybe someday.

5. I WILL flip a house someday. Although hopefully not one I’m living in at the time since I’ve done that and it’s not as fun as it looks. But how awesome would it be to turn something outdated and run down into a beautiful home? And maybe this time I could actually even turn a profit (the only flaw in the plan the last time around…)

6. My job in middle school and high school was as a soccer referee. I did it for seven years and made mad money. In fact, I worked weekends during the spring and fall and was able to take the summer off. I sometimes wish I had stuck with it (summers off sound nice…) Is it possible to become a professional town league soccer referee?

7. After almost two years of marriage, I still sometimes introduce myself with my maiden name. I blame my weekend job because I use my maiden name on the radio. It’s confusing for me. The other day, I introduced myself to a group of people as Kat Maiden Name…… Married Name. So it sounds like I have a hyphenated name—with a very long hyphen.

8. Although all our babysitters growing up were cool and let us stay up to watch television until the moment my parents pulled into the driveway (and sometimes we even got away with it), when I was old enough to babysit, I was the mean babysitter who made kids go to bed at whatever bedtime their parents gave me. I think I was just really stuck on the concept of following the rules at that age. That, and it was impossible to raid the cabinets if the kids were awake and watching.

9. My worst job was the summer between high school and college, when I worked in the kitchen of a restaurant (I had wanted to be a waitress, but the only position they had open was as the salad bar stocker). I was really ill that summer, but had recovered by my final day of work—the day I was required to peel and chop 20 pounds of carrots and then, as a finale, de-vein 40 pounds of raw scallops. It was the most disgusting job ever and my hands smelled like seafood for days. I swore up and down I would never work in a restaurant kitchen again (it may also have to do with why I don’t cook too often either. Ok, probably not, but I may have to plead “Post Traumatic Disorder” if the PH ever questions it…)

10. I’m living the dream, people. I recently found a cassette tape (and then found something that could actually play it!) that had my young voice playing the part of the DJ in between my favorite 80s hits. Even as a kid, I wanted to be on the radio. Then, as I grew older and worked for newspapers in high school and college, I wanted to be a journalist. Look at that! I’m a journalist on the radio! It’s nice when a plan comes together.

I think I'm supposed to "tag" people but I'm not going to put you on the spot. If you have a blog and want to spend a lot of time coming up with a huge list of things about yourself, go for it. If you don't want to, how about everybody leaves a story about their best or worst job in the comments and we'll call it even? Good? Good.

Let me be the first to welcome you to the 21st century...

A woman who works at a local business called to ask me about sending me some information for the paper. While lamenting the fact that it would take a couple of days to get her photos developed, she said, "Well, I can see if someone has a computer camera. How long does it take to get those photos?"

I replied that photos are available immediately on a *digital* camera and could be emailed to me. She then asked me for my "email number."

I will be shocked if I ever receive anything from her.

This is why I'm not a receptionist...

Since we were short-staffed at work today, I helped out by answering the phone. About my third call in, I got a call from a guy who, as soon as I answered with the name of my company, told me his name was Jim, said where he was calling from and added that someone had requested some information about debt consolidation.

I began to ask him for the name of who called his company so I could direct his call accordingly, but he started talking again. So I waited patiently but realized he was giving me the sales spiel intended for someone else. So I politely tried to interject. And he kept talking.

So I waited, figuring perhaps he was required to give a short speech at the beginning of the call. And when he paused, I again started to interject to tell him he was calling a business and I wasn’t the correct person to speak to. And he started talking over me!

So then I was angry. “Sir? Sir? This is a business. Sir? Sir!”

I paused, thinking perhaps the phone had cut out and he couldn’t hear me despite me still being able to hear him. When he paused again, I shouted, “Sir!” And that’s when he continued with, “To speak to someone about his offer, press 1.”

Well played, robot, well played. You got me this time. Damn those companies with their recorded phone calls!

I think I'm hilarious. The PH? Not so much.

The Pretend Husband called me at work yesterday and asked me to fax something-- anything-- to him so he could test his fax machine. I hurriedly wrote up a letter to my "lover" and faxed it over. The fax said:

Dear Mark,

Regrettably, I must end our torrid love affair. I think my husband is starting to suspect something. Also, now that he has his own office, he's home in the evenings so you can't come over. I'll never forget you. Love, Your Pooky Bear

After I faxed it to the PH, I called him and said, "I'll fax you something in a minute. I just had to fax something to someone else."

"Very funny," he said.

I thought so.

Tidbits: when there isn't enough for a full post

* As though life isn't exciting enough with the Pretend Husband starting his own business and kat's lil sis starting a second child, kat's lil bro had to get into the action by getting deep into the home buying process (he doesn't like it when I tell people he bought a house because it hasn't been finalized yet). When he made the offer, the PH told me I was forbidden to even pick up a paintbrush at lil bro's house until our house was done. He came home to find me painting the bedroom the next day and we rolled out the paint in the family room two days after that. I will not be thwarted in my quest to decorate lil bro's house.

* Do you think it's an indication I have a problem when I come close to finishing the renovations of one house and immediately start trying to figure out how to buy another one that needs work? I mean, just as we finished our first house, we bought the second and now that the second is almost done, lil bro has one ready for me to work on. The PH says we're not buying a third house when lil bro's is done. I may just have to start flipping houses to satisfy this weird urge of mine. Unless SJ is ready to buy a house and let me decorate it...

* Remember the guy who works for me who cannot get my name right? He happened to mention a few weeks ago that he drove by the office and didn't see my car (little creepy because he has not reason to be driving by and it's not even close to being on the way to anything...) Well, he upped the creepiness factor the other day when he stopped by my office and said, "Did you get a new car?" I had driven my brother's car to work that day, but I just said, "no." Then he replied, "Oh, because I thought I saw your license plate on another car." What?!? I'm not sure I even know my license plate number, so why in the world does this guy?!?

He drew the line at actually getting on the bus...

Yesterday was a big day for the Pretend Husband. After about five years at his job, he decided to open his own office. So, we have spent the last few weeks procuring bank accounts (him), creating marketing materials (me), buying office equipment (him) and buying items to decorate said office (me).

Yesterday was his first day in operation and while I didn't want to make a huge deal out of it with balloons and cake or anything (partially because he would think it was silly, but mostly because we are poor until his office starts actually doing some business), I figured it had to be marked somehow. So I made him coffee and a Pop Tart (it's a special treat around here...), wrote a note that I hid in his new laptop and made him stand on the front step and pose for a photo.

It was a little surreal because it's the same step my mom made each of us pose on for the first day of school, capturing everything from the cute, I-can't-wait-start grin of the elementary years to the are-you-kidding-me,-Mom? eye-rolling smile of the high school years. The PH, with his laptop bag strapped across his body and toting a stack of folders in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other, fits right into that-- and I'm sure I don't have to tell you which pose I got from him.

Rhetorical questions (but feel free to answer...)

While I was walking the dogs this morning, one of them paused halfway through to vomit in the middle of the road three times. I may have made her finish the rest of the walk. Does that make me a bad mother?

The Pretend Husband just quit his job and is planning to open his own business. Despite all of the work I'm doing for it, he would agree only to name me "Director of Marketing." I may have traded in some sexual favors in order to be promoted to "Vice President." Does that make me a bad person?

One of the people who works for me, an older man, cannot ever say my name correctly (seriously, he's gotten it correct once in the five years he's worked for me). Let's say my name is KAT [Married Name]-- well, this guy introduced me to a group of high school students this morning as "Chat" [Maiden Name]. I may have interrupted to give my real name and followed up with, "so you're wrong on both counts." Does that make me a bad boss?

I need a door.

i am one of the few managers at my company (one of two, really) who doesn't have a door. i prefer to sit in with my team, and help them, train them, etc. the only problem with this is that managing them is only one small piece of my job.

except lately, my being in plain sight has become an open door policy to the extreme. i cannot get anything done. at all. without being interrupted. so i thought perhaps if i put on my ipod and turn my back on the world, i could focus. that worked for 5 minutes. and then someone knocked. ON MY DESK.

seriously? how is that not rude? there are only two people allowed to do that - and they are both my boss.

anyway. i'm going back into my blog coma, because frankly, am in a deep and prolonged work funk.

i so should have gotten the puppy. i'm not going to make it to Cabo at this rate.

Please assure me bad things only come in twos and not threes...

This morning, on my way to work, about 13 seconds after I thought, “Man, what a great day I’m having. I’m so lucky to have such a good life,” a rock was kicked up by the van in front of me and hit my windshield, causing a pretty big ding in the glass. (Yes, I’m a dork for having my own little hallelujah sessions and I can’t even get too mad about the van because it was a Red Cross van delivering blood so how evil would I be for being angry at it, right?)

Then, I got to my office, went to turn on my light… and not only blew out the light bulb and kicked off the battery backup on my computer, but I blew a fuse.

I should not be allowed anywhere near small children today.

(Dudes, just to be clear, this doesn’t even come close to qualifying as a bad day. I just thought it was funny that the two events happened within 30 minutes of each other. And it’s made me be a little more cautious today. But I forgot to mention that when I went to find a replacement light bulb in the office storage closet, I instead found a box of chocolates that looked as thought it had been there since Valentine’s Day… 2005. But it still had a few pieces left, so score!)

The company Christmas party is going to be pretty awkward if it turns out I don't actually work there...

Last month, I didn't have any jobs. Now, I have two... I think. In addition to the full-time gig at the newspaper I used to run and am now running again, I applied for a part-time position as a news anchor for a radio station. The application process has been one of the strangest I've experienced, but I'm pretty sure I was hired.

When I first applied for the job, I got a pretty positive response. We set up a time for an interview, I went in and was asked some questions and given a tour of the building. But in between comments like, "Oh, it would be so great to have another female here" were ones like, "I wish you the best of luck in your job search."

So I left there, sent the obligatory thank you... and never heard from them again. Oh, actually, I did hear from them again, but not for about two weeks. That's when I received an email asking if I was still looking for part-time work and what my availability was. Suspecting I was being hired, I emailed right back, expressing enthusiasm for the position and giving the request information... and didn't hear from them for another week or two.

The next email said my paperwork was winding its way through the company's hierarchy and asked if I could come in for training sometime in the next week. So, I showed up there this weekend, filled out tons of paperwork, learned how not to sexually harass my coworkers and was assigned a passcard for the door. But, here's the thing-- nowhere along the way have I been asked to work for the company, nor have I really discussed what shift I'll be assigned, nor has my pay ever been mentioned (although I remember filling out some tax forms so I suspect I'll be getting paid something...)

I'm going back next weekend for more training and was told I might even be on the air that night. So, what do you think? Am I hired?

The cover letter I wish I could send

Dear HR lady,

C'mon, you know you want to hire me! I mean, you're probably sitting in front of your computer all day getting resumes from college graduates looking to break into the business and-- oops, they don't actually have the years of experience the job requires-- but they did get an "A" in Freshman Comp and oh yeah, they wrote for their college paper for two whole semesters after they realized they were going to be applying for journalism jobs without ever actually having written something for any kind of publication. (And yes, I realize that was one long sentence-- see! I'm a professional!-- but it's necessary for the tone I was trying to convey...)

See? I offer so much more than that. I have actual experience and, perhaps even more importantly, I really need a job. I won't bore you with the details, but it entails a combination of a new, bigger mortgage and a slight lack of employment.

And really, as long as your job includes some kind of writing or talking or publishing, I know I can handle it. I do all three of those things on a fairly regular basis and I know I can step up and succeed at any job that entails those things.

I'm available immediately, although I would enjoy a day or two off to enjoy not working since all my time this far has been filled with job searching and house renovating, but hey! I'm not picky! I'll start later today if you want.

Just please give me a job. Please? And OK, I am not above begging.... pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!

And my, that's a beautiful outfit you have on today. Love and kisses, FunnyGal KAT

Digging out...

I am absolutely BURIED right now... with finishing up my last week of work, job hunting, working on the new house, packing up the old house and completing a project for a friend's business. I'm not sure I will be going to sleep tonight because, of course, everything needs to be completed at once.

I realize this post is not the usual bit o'funny that you've come to expect from us Funny Gals. I promise to try to spend some time at Wal-Mart next week to make up for it (because, for some reason, Wal-Mart cashiers are always coming out with comedic gems, although not usually on purpose...)

In the meantime, send chocolate martinis-- quick!

how i am just like brittany spears

i know, right? who knew.

but i am.

it all has to do with a severe miscalculation on my part about the texture of my foundation garment (fun and lacy) and my comfortable knit dress (fun and not lacy).

due to this miscalculation, i had to determine a solution that would prevent my dress from clinging indiscreetly to my nether regions. because that's what was going on.

which led me to a choice. go without? or just go with it. i polled some co-workers discreetly.

i tried to go without for a little while, but i had a meeting with my ceo, who likes me to sit right next to him when going through reports, etc. and quite frankly, he's in many ways very father-like. and i just couldn't deal with the mental thought of being without my undies in my boss's office. it was quite frankly, unfathomable.

but, for a brief (or... um.. hiphugger) period today, i was indeed modeling the behavior of Brittany Spears.

current itunes song: "portions for foxes" by rilo kiley