Last Friday work sent me to North Carolina for a charity golf tournament. That unto itself is a joke. First, I'm not that good a golfer. Second, I've spent a majority of the past six months talking about how to cut costs and laying off people. The whole thing stinks of irony, but hey I got to play golf.
Anyway, thats not the subject of this post -- but rather its the whole airport/plane etiquette.
I find it so funny how people line up at the gate to get on the plane. People get cranky too -- aggressive and mad at each other for cutting in line. Um, hello, do you realize you are lining up so you can go and SIT and wait some more? It's not like they are giving out hundred dollar bills to the first 20 people on the plane. I would rather sit and wait in the airport then on the plane where my personal space has been whittled down to two inches on each side and all I do is pray that the person next to me does not start talking to me. The whole dynamic is very strange.
I remember growing up my mom would make us dress up to get on the plane. Did anyone else have this family rule? I still don't understand it, frankly I want to be in my sweats in the plane. Well, I want to be in my sweats most of the time.
On long distance trips I definitely crave for the extra seat or two. I wonder when I will be too old to lay down in the airplane, taking up three seats. For now, I'm thinking that I'll never be too old -- its clearly more comfortable. I think the only thing that would stop me would be if I was flying with a bunch of work people.
A few years ago, a took a trip with a new boss. She asked me to switch flights so we could fly together, even though we weren't sitting together. At first I thought that was strange, why be on the same flight but not sit next to each other. But now I realize that spending six hours sitting three inches from your boss would probably be excruciating.
So, upon her request I switched to fly back from California on a red-eye. Which didn't really bother me. Give me a glass of red wine and I'm out like a light. It had been a really long trip, we were at a conference and working the convention floor. I was in charge of the event, so on my feet 14 hours a day for three days straight. The flight home was going to be a well deserved long nap.
My seat was in the very last row of the plane. Close enough to the bathroom so I could smell that weird blue stuff that they have in the toilet. The plane was packed. Not a single free seat. As we are taxing on the runway, a toddler was crying for his mom. He was sitting with his dad and his mom was a couple of rows away. I felt bad, it was an awkward moment. Then the woman next to me stands up and screams, "hey, get your kid to be quiet!" Um, more awkward now....
The mom yelled something back and my neighbor guffawed and sat back down. Oh shit, I thought, this could be a long flight. I snuggled against the window and hoped that the two glasses of merlot would kick in soon. I did drift off.
At some point I woke up. My neighbor, who occupied the middle seat, was engaged in a very loud conversation with the guy sitting across the aisle. She was telling him all about her trip to Aruba and how excited she was. I think they were going to scuba or snorkel...who the hell knows, it was 3 am in the fucking morning. Shut up!
After five minutes of her droning on, I finally said something.
"Excuse me, do you mind keeping it down? I've had a really long week and not a lot of sleep"
Another guffaw.
I snuggled back to my window. Then she says, very loud,
"The people on this plane are such assholes!"
Under my blanket, with my eyes shut, I did a silent gasp. Asshole? Me? I just want some sleep. Some beautiful sleep. Should I apologize? Was I out of line? No, no calm down, get to sleep, go to sleep.
She continued to rattle on with her conversation partner across the aisle and across the other guy in our row.
It was the longest flight of my life.
We got off in Newark around 6 am. My boss and some other colleagues were waiting for me, as I was the LAST person on the plane.
I had duress written all over my face. My boss asked me, what happened? ... It was terrible.
I've had a couple of other strange plane experiences...An airsick mom asking me to take her toddler to the bathroom, a drunk couple feeding my kid candy, a rock band playing air guitar ....
I guess they all make for good cocktail stories, but sometimes its just exasperating.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Cliche, yes, but so important
Work has been filled with a lot of crap lately -- doing a lot of things that make people think I'm a bad person. So coming home to my goofy kids is even better. I keep telling these hilarious "kids say the darnest things" type stories, so I thought I would type some of them up.
My oldest is three, so she's really coming out with these precious nuggets of stereotypical cuteness.
This all started a few months back. I was upstairs nursing a hangover and doing my typical 2 hour "shower" which is really a 10 minute shower and the remainder I am snuggled with my bathrobe under the covers asleep. The husband came upstairs and busted me. We were having a rare snuggly moment. A little spooning in the afternoon is great, even if you still smell like pinot noir from the night before. Then we hear this come from the bottom of the stairs....
"HEY!! Can someone wipe my butt??"
Romance gone with just six words. (To give more context, the oldest was just going through potty training and the wiping her ass thing was still an "area of development")
Since then, there have been many precious verbal nuggets that are worth passing on...Just last week there were three that were classic.
The first was on our way to school. We drive a bunch of backroads to get to day care -- a total of 11 minute drive, and yes, New Jersey is actually quite green and we are surrounded by farms. There is one farm we pass every day and we usually see the cows just as they are moving from the barn into the pasture. This morning, I was explaining to her how milk comes from cows. She then asked me,
"Does milk come out of the cow's butt?"
Clearly, I know that milk does not come out a cow's butt. But at 7:30 morning, do I really want to explain udders? Then what if she asks me HOW a cow makes milk? Come on, do you know how a cow actually makes milk? No, you don't!
"Kind of, it kind of comes out of their butts. Oh, we're almost at school, what do you think is for breakfast???" I love it, finally a use for the Irish Catholic skill of dodging the pressing issues (Uncle Tom isn't gay, he's just very religious....)...
The next morning, she was in my room waiting for me to get out of the shower. When I got out, I saw her on my bed, lifting her shirt a bit, nothing alarming, probably looking at her belly button. Then she asks,
"Mommy what is this?"
Shirt lifting, finger on her nipples. My mouth goes dry almost automatically.
"Uh, that's part of your body, you know, your chest."
"Is it like a button?"
"Yes! It is like a button" Heh heh heh, a button! I like it when Dad presses that button....(Don't worry, I didn't say that.
Another gem. Then that very night we are making dinner. She had an accident at school, so was strutting around in boy's bermuda shorts and her rain boots -- yes, I know, its quite a look. She kept sticking her hand down her pants.
"Hey, stop putting your hand down your pants, its not good manners"
"Mom! I found a hole!"
Gasp. My life flashed before my eyes. Was I really going to have to explain this one? I wasn't ready. I'm not, I'm just not! And the quesadillas are burning!
"Mom, I found a hole in my underwear!"
Deep deep sighs of relief.
Aaah, kids.
To ensure that I am not showing favoritism, kid #2 is also very silly lately. She has started on the Stevie Wonder like waving of the head.
Then she's started putting her finger up her nose. She knows it makes me laugh, and its so hard to tell her not to do it without laughing. I know its juvenile, but its funny. As you can see by the photo she also a complete mess!
She loves to take the plate and hold it perpendicular and just lick it. AAAh, the good ol' days.
Anyways, very cliche, but these moments make the day job much easier when I have to say things like, "this decision is final" and "there is no further recourse for you at this point" at least I know I can go home and get a good laugh or three.
My oldest is three, so she's really coming out with these precious nuggets of stereotypical cuteness.
This all started a few months back. I was upstairs nursing a hangover and doing my typical 2 hour "shower" which is really a 10 minute shower and the remainder I am snuggled with my bathrobe under the covers asleep. The husband came upstairs and busted me. We were having a rare snuggly moment. A little spooning in the afternoon is great, even if you still smell like pinot noir from the night before. Then we hear this come from the bottom of the stairs....
"HEY!! Can someone wipe my butt??"
Romance gone with just six words. (To give more context, the oldest was just going through potty training and the wiping her ass thing was still an "area of development")
Since then, there have been many precious verbal nuggets that are worth passing on...Just last week there were three that were classic.
The first was on our way to school. We drive a bunch of backroads to get to day care -- a total of 11 minute drive, and yes, New Jersey is actually quite green and we are surrounded by farms. There is one farm we pass every day and we usually see the cows just as they are moving from the barn into the pasture. This morning, I was explaining to her how milk comes from cows. She then asked me,
"Does milk come out of the cow's butt?"
Clearly, I know that milk does not come out a cow's butt. But at 7:30 morning, do I really want to explain udders? Then what if she asks me HOW a cow makes milk? Come on, do you know how a cow actually makes milk? No, you don't!
"Kind of, it kind of comes out of their butts. Oh, we're almost at school, what do you think is for breakfast???" I love it, finally a use for the Irish Catholic skill of dodging the pressing issues (Uncle Tom isn't gay, he's just very religious....)...
The next morning, she was in my room waiting for me to get out of the shower. When I got out, I saw her on my bed, lifting her shirt a bit, nothing alarming, probably looking at her belly button. Then she asks,
"Mommy what is this?"
Shirt lifting, finger on her nipples. My mouth goes dry almost automatically.
"Uh, that's part of your body, you know, your chest."
"Is it like a button?"
"Yes! It is like a button" Heh heh heh, a button! I like it when Dad presses that button....(Don't worry, I didn't say that.
Another gem. Then that very night we are making dinner. She had an accident at school, so was strutting around in boy's bermuda shorts and her rain boots -- yes, I know, its quite a look. She kept sticking her hand down her pants.
"Hey, stop putting your hand down your pants, its not good manners"
"Mom! I found a hole!"
Gasp. My life flashed before my eyes. Was I really going to have to explain this one? I wasn't ready. I'm not, I'm just not! And the quesadillas are burning!
"Mom, I found a hole in my underwear!"
Deep deep sighs of relief.
Aaah, kids.
To ensure that I am not showing favoritism, kid #2 is also very silly lately. She has started on the Stevie Wonder like waving of the head.
Then she's started putting her finger up her nose. She knows it makes me laugh, and its so hard to tell her not to do it without laughing. I know its juvenile, but its funny. As you can see by the photo she also a complete mess!She loves to take the plate and hold it perpendicular and just lick it. AAAh, the good ol' days.
Anyways, very cliche, but these moments make the day job much easier when I have to say things like, "this decision is final" and "there is no further recourse for you at this point" at least I know I can go home and get a good laugh or three.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Holiday Shmoliday, its Traditions that matter
I have been really struggling with the Easter holiday.
To give you some context, I am not terribly religious. Not agnostic per se, but just more apathetic. I got married in a church, but the husband's family is very religious so that was important. In preparation for the wedding we went to church for a bit -- that phase also coincided with post-9/11 inner trauma that I think a lot of people were dealing with. It was nice to have a community. To go some where and see some smiling faces. I didn't really latch on to the religious aspects, but I did like the feeling in there.
To me, Easter is really just another Sunday. I was originally thinking that I would go to the gym and make some stuffed shells. My usual Sunday routine.
Now with the two kids I have to start thinking about how we are going to celebrate this holiday. A friend asked me if we do the "easter basket thing"? A look of horror flashed across my face, "easter basket thing, crap, what is that" I thought to myself. Then in the recess of my mind, I remember waking up Easter morning to a basket of goodies. Hmmm, do I want my kids to have that?
So is that what Easter is...just a reason to give kids candy? Seems superfluous. Maybe I should skip it. Then I become the stingy Mom who never gives her kids candy.
Surely, I think to myself, there is a deeper meaning to Easter. But for the life of me, I could not draw the connection between the bunny and Jesus. A woman on my mom's board had to tell me. (My Catholic father's nose would be bright red with fury if I told him that.)
So what should I do then, as someone who doesn't really practice religion? Do I start practicing consumerism? Because seriously, all these holidays have just morphed into ways for us to consume superfluously. Christmas, clearly consumerized. Easter, bunny & egg crap in every store. St. Patty's Day, you have to wear green! Halloween -- the king of all consumer holidays -- candy, costumes and decorations!
But then, I realized you have to create your own way to celebrate holidays. And maybe its nothing to do with religion and nothing to do with consumerism. But its our way, our family way, of celebrating -- hence creating a tradition. What a fascinating idea. I start doing something, and then my kids can carry it on.
I realize now, that I am already doing this on other holidays. For instance, my mom always makes the seafood meal on Christmas Eve -- an Italian tradition. I started doing the same this year.
So, for Easter I embraced the same thought. Today we had the 1st Annual McChung Easter
Egg Hunt. The kids had a blast. Granted the hunt lasted about three minutes, but the post-Hunt debrief was about 25 minutes when they opened all the eggs and found toys and treats.
Nothing religious, nothing over the top, just us hanging out with some friends, enjoying the kids and starting a tradition.
To give you some context, I am not terribly religious. Not agnostic per se, but just more apathetic. I got married in a church, but the husband's family is very religious so that was important. In preparation for the wedding we went to church for a bit -- that phase also coincided with post-9/11 inner trauma that I think a lot of people were dealing with. It was nice to have a community. To go some where and see some smiling faces. I didn't really latch on to the religious aspects, but I did like the feeling in there.
To me, Easter is really just another Sunday. I was originally thinking that I would go to the gym and make some stuffed shells. My usual Sunday routine.
Now with the two kids I have to start thinking about how we are going to celebrate this holiday. A friend asked me if we do the "easter basket thing"? A look of horror flashed across my face, "easter basket thing, crap, what is that" I thought to myself. Then in the recess of my mind, I remember waking up Easter morning to a basket of goodies. Hmmm, do I want my kids to have that?
So is that what Easter is...just a reason to give kids candy? Seems superfluous. Maybe I should skip it. Then I become the stingy Mom who never gives her kids candy.
Surely, I think to myself, there is a deeper meaning to Easter. But for the life of me, I could not draw the connection between the bunny and Jesus. A woman on my mom's board had to tell me. (My Catholic father's nose would be bright red with fury if I told him that.)
So what should I do then, as someone who doesn't really practice religion? Do I start practicing consumerism? Because seriously, all these holidays have just morphed into ways for us to consume superfluously. Christmas, clearly consumerized. Easter, bunny & egg crap in every store. St. Patty's Day, you have to wear green! Halloween -- the king of all consumer holidays -- candy, costumes and decorations!
But then, I realized you have to create your own way to celebrate holidays. And maybe its nothing to do with religion and nothing to do with consumerism. But its our way, our family way, of celebrating -- hence creating a tradition. What a fascinating idea. I start doing something, and then my kids can carry it on.
I realize now, that I am already doing this on other holidays. For instance, my mom always makes the seafood meal on Christmas Eve -- an Italian tradition. I started doing the same this year.
So, for Easter I embraced the same thought. Today we had the 1st Annual McChung Easter
Egg Hunt. The kids had a blast. Granted the hunt lasted about three minutes, but the post-Hunt debrief was about 25 minutes when they opened all the eggs and found toys and treats.Nothing religious, nothing over the top, just us hanging out with some friends, enjoying the kids and starting a tradition.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Keeping up with the.....Elmos
Next weekend the family is headed to a big party at Sesame Place. 70 people, 2 and a half hours of pizza, ice cream, Elmo & Big Bird. This is sure to be the party of the year. The birthday boy is turning three.
The cost is the same amount I paid for a week at an all inclusive resort in Jamaica, for a family of four.
Thats what gets me.
For my daughter's 3rd birthday I was particularly proud of the party -- I had stayed up past my usual bed time of 10 pm to hang up some awesome looking streamers. You know, the streamers you used to tie to the bus on the last day of school? Yes, those streamers.
Hmmm, streamers or Elmo? interesting contrast.
I don't really fret too much about the "keeping up with the Joneses" type thing -- but clearly I think about it or else I wouldn't be writing this blog.
I guess I find it fascinating more than anything. Definitively, people choose to differentially invest their cash. Some folks drive klunker cars, but travel on a regular basis. Some live is modest homes, but wear huge rocks on their ears. It is a great sociological study to observe which outlets people use to demonstrate their socio-economic status. Clearly, many choose to demonstrate status through their children, which is completely understandable, as they are seen as the "pride and joy" of their parents.
It is this mentality that feeds MTV shows like "My super sweet sixteen" (so worth the time, btw). It is also this mentality that scares the be-jesus out of me.
When I was in grad school I remember I ate a veggie burger for lunch every day for a month I was so broke. No lettuce, no tomato, no bun -- just meat substitute warmed in the microwave. I lived with six other people, and my room barely fit a double bed. I called my mom once for money, she sent me a stuffed animal. (Note to self: cut and paste this section and read to kids on regular basis. Will be the "I carried ice on my back" type story to toughen them up). It was rough, but it was one of those "formative" experiences.
Now, if 7 years earlier I had been eating foi gras at my super sweet sixteen, would I have been able to handle that??
I just wonder when will these kids get kicked off the luxury bus and put in the real world?
Granted, this kid is three, so he's got some time. Maybe for his birthday I'll get him a box of veggie burgers.
The cost is the same amount I paid for a week at an all inclusive resort in Jamaica, for a family of four.
Thats what gets me.
For my daughter's 3rd birthday I was particularly proud of the party -- I had stayed up past my usual bed time of 10 pm to hang up some awesome looking streamers. You know, the streamers you used to tie to the bus on the last day of school? Yes, those streamers.
Hmmm, streamers or Elmo? interesting contrast.
I don't really fret too much about the "keeping up with the Joneses" type thing -- but clearly I think about it or else I wouldn't be writing this blog.
I guess I find it fascinating more than anything. Definitively, people choose to differentially invest their cash. Some folks drive klunker cars, but travel on a regular basis. Some live is modest homes, but wear huge rocks on their ears. It is a great sociological study to observe which outlets people use to demonstrate their socio-economic status. Clearly, many choose to demonstrate status through their children, which is completely understandable, as they are seen as the "pride and joy" of their parents.
It is this mentality that feeds MTV shows like "My super sweet sixteen" (so worth the time, btw). It is also this mentality that scares the be-jesus out of me.
When I was in grad school I remember I ate a veggie burger for lunch every day for a month I was so broke. No lettuce, no tomato, no bun -- just meat substitute warmed in the microwave. I lived with six other people, and my room barely fit a double bed. I called my mom once for money, she sent me a stuffed animal. (Note to self: cut and paste this section and read to kids on regular basis. Will be the "I carried ice on my back" type story to toughen them up). It was rough, but it was one of those "formative" experiences.
Now, if 7 years earlier I had been eating foi gras at my super sweet sixteen, would I have been able to handle that??
I just wonder when will these kids get kicked off the luxury bus and put in the real world?
Granted, this kid is three, so he's got some time. Maybe for his birthday I'll get him a box of veggie burgers.
Saturday, March 1, 2008
The Korean discount
If it is not already obvious from my prior posts, my husband is Korean. Race has never really been an issue in our relationship. We have never considered being not of the same race as a barrier in our relationship. In fact, in the past couple of years I have actually been utilizing the "race card" to my advantage.
I am not sure when I first starting doing this, but I have had several successes.
I think my biggest success was with Jae, the Korean tailor. I started going to Jae when I was pregnant and he had to take a size 18 dress and make it fit my size 2 top and my size HUMONGOUS waist. He did a great job. After the baby, I went in to tailor same pants (I'm short, this is a constant need). Then on my third or fourth visit, I brought the baby.
Both my kids looked nothing like me at birth, and in fact we such striking images of their father that it was a little depressing. I used to joke that the only reason I knew they were mine was that I pushed them out of my hoo hoo.
So, when Jae saw the baby he was, like most, confused. At some point I slipped in that she was half Korean. I already knew he was Korean, as Jae is one of the most popular Korean name.
That visit, Jae gave me a discount.
Lightbulbs went off in my head. Where else can I leverage this Korean discount?
A few months later I tried at the manicure place. They were nice to me, but no discount.
At the frame store, my husband was with me, as was the baby -- discount.
I have taken to the idea of trying it whenever applicable.
Today, I took my oldest to get a new pair of shoes. It was a chic place in Princeton, with all the European brands. The owners are a Korean American couple about my age. My oldest is very shy and not too excited about new people, and this poor guy, whom I presumed to be the owner was really trying to get her to try on some shoes. (It's important to note that at this age, my oldest no longer looks like her dad. In fact she looks very like me, but with out the Anglo features, so people are often just confused about her ethnicity.)
About ten minutes into the shoe store adventure, I realize I am probably going to buy something, so I might as well try for the discount. I start calling my daughter by her full name, and then the owner, who's trying to shove a shoe on her foot, says, "Hey thats my last name too. We must be related. Since we are related, can you put this shoe on!"
So, I gave it my best shot. When it comes to check out time, no discount, but still a worthwhile shot. Besides, its always good to support your peeps, even if it is your peeps-in-law.
I am not sure when I first starting doing this, but I have had several successes.
I think my biggest success was with Jae, the Korean tailor. I started going to Jae when I was pregnant and he had to take a size 18 dress and make it fit my size 2 top and my size HUMONGOUS waist. He did a great job. After the baby, I went in to tailor same pants (I'm short, this is a constant need). Then on my third or fourth visit, I brought the baby.
Both my kids looked nothing like me at birth, and in fact we such striking images of their father that it was a little depressing. I used to joke that the only reason I knew they were mine was that I pushed them out of my hoo hoo.
So, when Jae saw the baby he was, like most, confused. At some point I slipped in that she was half Korean. I already knew he was Korean, as Jae is one of the most popular Korean name.
That visit, Jae gave me a discount.
Lightbulbs went off in my head. Where else can I leverage this Korean discount?
A few months later I tried at the manicure place. They were nice to me, but no discount.
At the frame store, my husband was with me, as was the baby -- discount.
I have taken to the idea of trying it whenever applicable.
Today, I took my oldest to get a new pair of shoes. It was a chic place in Princeton, with all the European brands. The owners are a Korean American couple about my age. My oldest is very shy and not too excited about new people, and this poor guy, whom I presumed to be the owner was really trying to get her to try on some shoes. (It's important to note that at this age, my oldest no longer looks like her dad. In fact she looks very like me, but with out the Anglo features, so people are often just confused about her ethnicity.)
About ten minutes into the shoe store adventure, I realize I am probably going to buy something, so I might as well try for the discount. I start calling my daughter by her full name, and then the owner, who's trying to shove a shoe on her foot, says, "Hey thats my last name too. We must be related. Since we are related, can you put this shoe on!"
So, I gave it my best shot. When it comes to check out time, no discount, but still a worthwhile shot. Besides, its always good to support your peeps, even if it is your peeps-in-law.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Am I a clown? Do I make you laugh?
Recently I am wondering why my life is so amusing. Is it me, because I have a good sense of humor I see things in a funny light? Or is that some higher power likes to screw with me? I am not sure I want to know the answer.
During the day, when I am not surfing the internet reading People.com or fantasizing about my next vacation, I am in Human Resources. For all intensive purposes that means I am the bitch who tells you "no" to everything fun you want to do.
Q: Can I give so and so a raise?
Me: No.
Q: Can I serve alcohol at the party?
Me: No.
Q: Can we accept gifts from vendors?
Me: No.
Anywoo, the other day I have someone in my office lobbying to get telecommuting privileges because she has an upcoming medical procedure (read: Dr. 90210). My answer....wait for it....No. The whole time we are meeting she has this swarmy smirk on her face. And I keep asking her, "Is there something else on your mind? You don't seem satisified with my answers..." She says no and we wrap up.
A few minutes later I am doing a spot check in the mirror -- how bad is the gray hair today? Anything in my teeth? (You know the drill.) And there it is -- a big dollop of yogurt on my nose. Not on the tip, but about 3/4 of an inch up.
EXCELLENT.
Now I understand why this woman was looking at me with those eyes that were clearly saying "jackass!"
For the record, as she was coming to my office I was downing some yogurt and I couldn't find a spoon, ergo I was just trying to drink it. Hey, at least it was yogurt and not a vat of mayo or something.
I wish I could say this was an isolated incident. I went home that night and told my husband and he said "hasn't that happened before?"
Technically, no. Last time it was salad dressing.
Seriously, does crap like this happen to other people? I don't feel like it does. Case in point....
Last weekend I am at the gym. I go to the gym in the office b.c. it's cheap and actually its not that bad. They have TVs at every machine and the locker rooms are clean and big.
So there I am on the elliptical, scanning the channels. I stop on VH1 and start watching "Rock of Love". Have you seen this? You must. It's basically the Bachelor, but the guy is Brett Michaels from Poison. The woman seem to have limited intelligence but high levels of silicone and collagen. It is great, classic, reality TV. I am entranced.
In this one particular scene Brett is hosting a dance off and the girls are dancing (scantily clad, of course) and he starts doing body shots off them. Again, classic reality TV. Then I realize that someone is hovering over my left shoulder watching my TV. Hovering a solid ten seconds, while Brett is doing more body shots.
Finally, I look to see who is this person watching me watch (basically) soft porn (practically) at the office.
Yeah.
It's the #2 guy in the whole company. In line to be #1. Makes at minimum 20 times what I do a year. And there he is, watching me watching soft porn at work. And mind you, I am in Human Resources.
I am of course immediately mortified. And I switch the channel to MSNBC. What is going on with the Clinton campaign?
Then I just start laughing, because I feel like this could only happen to me.
At what point do these ridiculous incidents gain critical mass and I just need to find another job? Hopefully no time soon, because I have another 2 years before I am vested.
During the day, when I am not surfing the internet reading People.com or fantasizing about my next vacation, I am in Human Resources. For all intensive purposes that means I am the bitch who tells you "no" to everything fun you want to do.
Q: Can I give so and so a raise?
Me: No.
Q: Can I serve alcohol at the party?
Me: No.
Q: Can we accept gifts from vendors?
Me: No.
Anywoo, the other day I have someone in my office lobbying to get telecommuting privileges because she has an upcoming medical procedure (read: Dr. 90210). My answer....wait for it....No. The whole time we are meeting she has this swarmy smirk on her face. And I keep asking her, "Is there something else on your mind? You don't seem satisified with my answers..." She says no and we wrap up.
A few minutes later I am doing a spot check in the mirror -- how bad is the gray hair today? Anything in my teeth? (You know the drill.) And there it is -- a big dollop of yogurt on my nose. Not on the tip, but about 3/4 of an inch up.
EXCELLENT.
Now I understand why this woman was looking at me with those eyes that were clearly saying "jackass!"
For the record, as she was coming to my office I was downing some yogurt and I couldn't find a spoon, ergo I was just trying to drink it. Hey, at least it was yogurt and not a vat of mayo or something.
I wish I could say this was an isolated incident. I went home that night and told my husband and he said "hasn't that happened before?"
Technically, no. Last time it was salad dressing.
Seriously, does crap like this happen to other people? I don't feel like it does. Case in point....
Last weekend I am at the gym. I go to the gym in the office b.c. it's cheap and actually its not that bad. They have TVs at every machine and the locker rooms are clean and big.
So there I am on the elliptical, scanning the channels. I stop on VH1 and start watching "Rock of Love". Have you seen this? You must. It's basically the Bachelor, but the guy is Brett Michaels from Poison. The woman seem to have limited intelligence but high levels of silicone and collagen. It is great, classic, reality TV. I am entranced.
In this one particular scene Brett is hosting a dance off and the girls are dancing (scantily clad, of course) and he starts doing body shots off them. Again, classic reality TV. Then I realize that someone is hovering over my left shoulder watching my TV. Hovering a solid ten seconds, while Brett is doing more body shots.
Finally, I look to see who is this person watching me watch (basically) soft porn (practically) at the office.
Yeah.
It's the #2 guy in the whole company. In line to be #1. Makes at minimum 20 times what I do a year. And there he is, watching me watching soft porn at work. And mind you, I am in Human Resources.
I am of course immediately mortified. And I switch the channel to MSNBC. What is going on with the Clinton campaign?
Then I just start laughing, because I feel like this could only happen to me.
At what point do these ridiculous incidents gain critical mass and I just need to find another job? Hopefully no time soon, because I have another 2 years before I am vested.
Friday, January 11, 2008
I hate Microwave popcorn
For Christmas Eve dinner, I made a seven course fish dinner (in the Italian tradition). I regularly make home made soups and pasta sauce, etc etc. I am no Julia Child, but I am not that bad. I can cook.
Then, why, why, why? is it so damn hard to make microwave popcorn. I burn the fucker every time! And that horrid smell of burnt popcorn lingers for hours. As if the smell is taunting me...
"eh ha...you can't even make popcorn"
For the love of God.
Sometimes the easiest things are the hardest.
Then, why, why, why? is it so damn hard to make microwave popcorn. I burn the fucker every time! And that horrid smell of burnt popcorn lingers for hours. As if the smell is taunting me...
"eh ha...you can't even make popcorn"
For the love of God.
Sometimes the easiest things are the hardest.
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