T-shits and giggles.

Abercrappy & Fitch is more like it!

Seriously though, this is embarrasing-who the hell would want this?














http://www.abercrombie.com/

T.G.I.F.

Friday mornings in the work place can either be a triumphant acknowledgement that you have almost made it through another week in the proverbial “coal mines” or an experience some might liken to the sound of fingernails scratching slowly down a chalkboard. During kickball season, it is almost certainly the latter-however, today I am just glad I survived this week.

Last night Hope Valentine, Security Steve and I met up with Moody St. Clair at the grand opening of Milwaukee’s first Sephora in Mayfair Mall. The store was offering 20% off on all purchases and I was like a kid in the candy store at the prospect of such a hardy discount. Sadly, I wasn’t alone, and the women around me were acting like a bunch of rabid monkeys. Hope was nearly trampled by a pregnant woman with a stroller and I got some kind of an allergic reaction on my hand from this lip-plumping gloss.

Needless to say, we made it out alive and quickly headed home to get ready for a night on the town. Lance Friendly invited us to meet up with his crew at this piano bar in the 5th Ward. We took (what turned out to be) an $8.00 cab ride downtown and spent the rest of the night listening to the bar’s very white pianist perform moving renditions of songs ranging from Seals and Croft’s “Summer Breeze” to Outkast’s “Caroline.” I wasn’t so sure about his future in the rap genre, but Hope and I giggled over the prospect of requesting “College Girls are Easy” or better yet, "Gimme that Nut." Ah youth.

Anyway, around 1AM Hope and I decided to be responsible and go home. But since there are like NO cabs in the 5th Ward, we decided we would just walk home. And what a walk it was.

This morning I work up feeling strangely un-hung-over, although my feet and ankles were unreasonably sore and twice their usual size.

Today I came in to work to find three cards on my desk waiting to be signed and a note from one of my coworkers claiming that I made an egregious error scribing her name in the wrong place on my department’s “Wall of Fame.” Glad to be back in the office.

(Available in magnet form at www.allposters.com)

The sick cycle of time.

Today I was 15 minutes late to work.

Truth be told, I am usually late. I like to this that my almost guaranteed late factor has something to do with an inherent inner struggle-as far as I am concerned, everyone has one, and mine has a lot to do with the virtues of punctuality.

On one hand, I am not, how should I say this, "thrilled"about my corporate role in life. So when that alarm goes off in the morning I can't help but feel like my cozy bed is a much more welcoming prospect.

But then, I won't be able to afford my cozy bed if I DON'T go to work.

So I get up, and kind of hem and haw as time whittles away.

Each morning I convince myself that I can push that snooze for ten more minutes and I will have enough time.

When will I learn, that for me, there is never enough time.

Meanwhile, I am such a goody-goody that I feel BAD when I am late.

It's a sick cycle I tell you.

And I thought Tom Cruise was scary.

I swear they made a movie about this....and it scared the shit out of me.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/4714135.stm

Smoking gun.

This morning I was on time for work in part because, for the first time in 2 weeks, I woke up on time (only pressing the snooze the allotted 5 times and then resetting the alarm only once to allow for 10 more minutes of shut eye).

I didn’t even need to speed that much; although this speed-limit adherence was compromised when I accidentally got behind a student driver on the on ramp.

Like molasses in January, this newbie slowly made his way towards the highway, allowing for adequate reaction times should any turtles or small legless animals attempt to cross the road in front of his vehicle.

Now I am at the office where I just got a call from Flower Power. A new relationship is in the mix for the lovely lass and she wants to go to lunch to discuss and analyze. Sounds great to me! Of course I am excited to hear the dish, but moreover, I am always anxious for an excuse to get out of this cubicle.

Just the other day I took two “smoke breaks” with one of my coworker friends. Since I am definitely not a smoker, I basically just go for the fresh air and conversation.

At my company, smokers are viewed as social pariah and are only allowed to smoke in a very small area surrounding this large generator behind the building. They all stand around talking about nothing in particular while desperately attempting to get their nicotine fix. Come to think of it, with all that second hand smoke, I guess I can’t really justify it as getting fresh air, but at least I am outside and I like to think I am making up for all those detentionless-years in elementary, middle, high school and all the years following that.

(http://www.webwombat.com.au/entertainment/humour/Grumpy_Old_Coot/pixs_smokers.htm)

Going volleyballs out!

At some point within the past few months a few of my coworkers organized a volleyball team for some local bar league. Today, Lance Friendly and some of my other assorted coworkers are trying to get me to play, because apparently they are short for players-and “simply DESPERATE.”

From what I can tell, they are short for players every week. In part because my company is made up of a bunch of non-committers who say they will play but then never show up and also because the game is at 10PM tonight, and outside.

I told Lance I would play if he picked me up. But I am really regretting that now because it has been raining all day and it is freezing outside.

I can’t help but feel like I have been swindled here- but none the less I look forward to the opportunity to once again prove to those I work with that I am indeed superior both in and outside of the office.

Meeting miscommunications.

“Coworker E” just turned one of our department’s managers away from his cubicle because said manager was exactly 6 minutes early for their upcoming meeting.

Way to stick it to the man E!







(Photo courtesey of Office Space)

Morning blow out.

I like my apartment, don’t get me wrong.

Living downtown is really fun, and I enjoy inhabiting an older building chocked full of character and personality. Unfortunately, there is one thing that drives me crazy-and anyone who has visited me there will know that I blow fuses left and right.

Should you want to use the hairdryer while warming up the curling iron-think again! And don’t even think about watching TV while microwaving some popcorn!

Why, prey tell, do you think I am always making sandwiches in the dark?! Well you’re right, I can’t cook, but there is also no way I could use the toaster AND keep the fans on-because THAT my friend would be like playing with fire!

So this morning I was trying to blow dry my hair in an attempt to look professional for work. Of course I don’t have air conditioning and even with 5 fans I am still warm in there, so I get ready for work in my underwear. Here I am trying to blow dry my hair in the dark and, like clockwork, I blow a fuse. Quickly, I get into a robe and run out into the hall to the circuit breaker nearby. Then, without a moment to lose, I make it back to my apartment, shut the door, and resume the blow dry. 2 minutes later the thing blows again, and once again I am making the long-traveled path towards the fuse box.

Fast-forward 6 minutes, as the fuse blows for the 7th time in 12 minutes. I am sick of putting on the robe, because, you know what! I am hot. So I think to myself: “Self, I haven’t seen or heard any of my neighbors, it will be ok just to make a quick run in nothing but a towel and my skivvies. “

Everything was going perfectly as planned as I made my way to the circuit box, flipped the switch and headed home…and it was at that fated moment, that one of my neighbors opens her apartment door and lets a long line of her kids and teenaged nephews flood into the hall.

“Hello,” I said-all the while trying desperately to hold onto the towel and my dignity.

“HI!” they all yelled in response.

“Ok then,” I said running quickly down the hall and safely into the confines of my character-filled apartment.

My hair looks better in a pony-tail anyway.

Is it just me?

Is it just me, or does this sound like a really bad idea?!

http://apnews.myway.com/article/20050725/D8BIJ8400.html

For a bunch of seemingly smart guys, these rocket scientists sound pretty fucking stupid.

Case of the Mondays.

Sometimes I catch myself singing Lil’ Kim’s classic tune “How Many Licks?” while I am at work. However, by the time I hit the seventh word in the first verse, I am quickly reminded how entirely inappropriate it is for the workplace….well anyplace really, so I always have to stop singing.

And now for the weekend update.

On Friday I went with Peaches Wilson and my friend and co-worker Lance Friendly for some dinner and drinks. After dinner we hit up the Nomad and Hi-Hat where we bonded over stories of childhood head injuries and shared phobias. It was great fun.

Saturday started early as Hope Valentine and I drove through the rain to meet my old college friends (Spanish Houlihan, Peppermint Patty, and Jazzy A) at one of America’s greatest water parks: Noah’s Ark! It was a fairly uneventful drive until a larger black bird flew right into my windshield. After I stopped screaming, Hope and I found solace in the gentle back and forth rhythm of the windshield wipers and the sound of the washer fluid jetting out over the window. (Luckily, there was very little gore, feathers, or blood on the car-at least nothing the rain and windshield wipers could not remedy.)

The whole day was great and after an initial flash thunderstorm blew over, Hope and I took great delight in going down several of the older slides around 10 times in a row. In an effort to keep things new and interesting, I started yelling oddly obscene phrases as we slid down the slides. It was magical.

After we all drove home we quickly got ready and hit the Hi-Hat so my friend Peppermint Patty could meet up with one of her old college friends who recently moved into the city. He was very drunk, but bought us beers-so no complaints here. After only a short while we decided we were just too tired to stay out and we all went home for a good-natured naked pillow fight…..JUST KIDDING!

We fell right asleep.

Sunday came a little too early for me when the girls were up bright and early to start their drive home. So I walked them out and then went back to bed. When I finally woke up I quickly got ready and then made my way up to the folks house in the burbs where I settled down in front of the TV for some mind-numbing entertainment and air-conditioned bliss.

I hate Mondays.

An ode to procrastination.

This may seem patently offensive, but I heard this once in college and I think it still really rings true today:

“Procrastination is like masturbation. It feels good until you realize you’re just fucking yourself.”

Think about it.

Out with the old.

I saw this slogan on a t-shirt the other day and it touched me deep inside.

(Image courtesy of http://nostarclothing.com/no_star/men_guns.html )

Crossing the t's and dotting the lower-case j's.

The other day while on my way to lunch, I spotted a girl who I have worked with in the past, but have never really connected with. For some reason she has always seemed a little stand-offish towards me; and while I have never fully understood why, I guess I have just always figured it had something to do with her temperament, or maybe because I am always staring at her lazy eye.

So, this day, in a move inspired by an uncharacteristic surge of goodwill, I smiled at her, patted her on the back and said: “Hello Coworker S! How are you doing today!”

At first there was an awkward pause, in which time I slowly lowered my hand from her shoulder very conscious of the fact that she was looking at me like I was a crazy person wandered in off the streets.

“”I’m Coworker K…” she replied.

At that point, I am sure my face took on its typical 'deer in headlights' expression as confusion washed over me like a large and unmanageable wave. It quickly dawned on me that she was either joking, or there were now two women working at my company who not only look eerily similar, but also who BOTH have lazy eyes.

Quickly, I tried to remove my foot from my mouth and say something witty and unfazed.

The best I could come up with was, “Oh I am so out of it…ha ha…..it must be because today is my birthday and…..oooh you know how it is once we get older…..”

She smiled at that, but there was sadness in her glance, and I think in that moment I detected a flash of pity there as well.

(This, of course, is not my coworker, but Igor from the classic film Young Frakenstein.)

Procrastination is a drug.

I have realized that I am probably the worst procrastinator I know.

I blame my grandmother for this.

Just asking.

Is it just me, or is Wayne Newton beginning to look live a living wax figure?




















(Photo courtesy of http://www.lvhilton.com/)

It's the day after my party and I'll whine if I want to.

I just signed a “we’ll miss you” card for a girl I work with who is leaving the department to work somewhere else within the company. The thing is, I won’t miss her, I don’t wish her luck, and I am glad she is leaving.

After my bubbily morning post, you may be asking yourself, why I suddenly have my panties in a tightly-wound bundle. So please allow me to explain. This bitter-streak probably has something to do with the fact that this card was just one in a long line of many that I have had to sign for other people’s big days; and yesterday, for my birthday, not a single person bothered to get a card for me.

Sure they’ll attack the birthday cookies I am required to bring (like a pack of rabid dogs) and they may even say 'thank you' and, in passing wish me a happy birthday, but no cards. And trust me, I know these are really just a crappy wanna-be Hallmarker filled with empty and generic sentiments and carelessly scribbled signatures, but I like to pretend I am well-liked here. Even if I do secretly plot my co-workers demise each and every day.

Reflecting on my 25th birthday.

I just got off the phone with my lovely and talented friend Spanish Houlihan. She too hates her current job and we delight in breaking all the corporate rules by engaging in personal phone conversations that exceed five minutes. In hushed three-inch voices we giddily discussed the measurements of our respective cubicles, and I delighted in the knowledge that mine is in fact larger than hers. Smaller than a jail cell, mind you, but large enough for one of those butterfly chairs you might have had in your college dorm room. So after we finished discussing our work-environments….the conversation turned to yesterday’s birthday celebration.

Yesterday, as you know, I turned 25.

To celebrate, my family and I made plans to go to dinner, which is what we do for every family member’s special day-with the exception of my father whose only wish is to be left alone to nap in his easy chair. The running joke between all of my brothers’ friends is that the Westchester clan only EVER goes to one of two places to eat: the Club or this Tex Mex joint called the Highland House. Since moving downtown, I thought this year might be the perfect time to break away from that tradition and try one of the many restaurants Milwaukee’s vibrant scene has to offer. So I made this suggestion to my mother.

First she laughed. Then when she realized I wasn’t joking she accused me of being unreasonable and said that I was (and this is a direct quote) “killing my father.” (We all laughed about this later of course, but at the time, I thought she was being a little, how should I say this, crazy.) Anyway, after five minutes of “animated” debate she agreed to call my father at work and ask him if he would be willing to leave Mequon for my birthday dinner. To make a long story short (too late), he (of course) agreed and it was decided I would do some research and pick a place that was both reasonably priced and would not make us wait an hour to eat.

After grilling my friend and co-worker Peaches Wilson about some restaurants that would cater to all the possible whims of my family, I settled on this place called Harry’s. My family picked me up and after a seemingly endless commute (exacerbated by my father’s insistence on driving the exact speed limit) we arrived at our destination. Needless to say, my parents loved Harry’s and throughout the course of the meal my mother raved about her salad and named off several groups of her friends that she could bring there for luncheons.

This weekend the birthday festivities will continue with a trip to Noah’s Ark with my friends Spanish, Jazzy A, Peppermint Patty and Hope Valentine. I am really excited for water slides and girlish giggling.

Vaca. excitement

Today is my birthday. And I am very excited!

It's times like these(when I am procrastinating from work) that I start to think about upcoming vacations.

This weekend I am traveling to Noah's Ark for some kick ass birthday fun with my best gal pals.

Then several weeks from now I will be lounging on the beach at Cape Cod. I stumbled upon this website though, which gave me pause....

http://www.thebostonchannel.com/news/4746503/detail.html

Quarter-life crisis my ass!

Tomorrow I turn 25.

I believe it was Mayer who once sang, “Might be a quarter-life crisis.”

And rightly so.

Today my ole’ pal Spanish Houlihan and I exchanged a flurry of e-mails addressing this very issue and I admitted to her that I have made some important decisions regarding my life’s second quarter. Now that they have appeared in e-mail format, I can’t see the harm in also revealing them here.

Resolutions for the next 25 years:

1. Try not to get pregnant out of wed lock.

2. Work hard to maintain positive attitude-keeping the glass half full at all times.

3. Try to make eye contact with people and give them a friendly smile rather than immediately looking at feet or at the fascination lighting fixtures on the ceiling.

4. Fight against knee-jerk reaction to respond to male glances with a shocked, deer-in-headlights look of confusion/fear.

5. When making eye contact with YMCA crush, try not to unconsciously glare.

6.Try not to drool when secretly checking out YMCA crush at bench press.

7. Stop being so hard on self.

8. Spend less time at work looking at celebrity gossip web-sites...... eh who am I kidding..... just try to spend a little more time working.

9. Find a fulfilling job that pays more (but does not require me to sleep my way to the top).

10. Try not to be so outwardly hostile towards people I hate…

I think these 10 are a good starting point. I make this commitment to me and my 6 (or so) loyal readers, that I plan on really trying to be more positive in life. I will start tomorrow.

The maddness of Little Miss Westchester.

This past Sunday night, in a bid to spend some quality time with my mother, I suggested we hang out on our houses' outdoor patio. It was a nice night; I figured it would be pleasant.

Well now it's two days later, and I am going nuts with itches from the bug bites I got on my feet. To make matter worse, because I obsessively bite my nails, I have to rely on foreign objects to relieve the itching. Already today I have accidentally stabbed myself in the foot with a pen and gone through two paper clips in a bid to end the maddening itches.

I have a bug bite the size of a quarter on the top of my foot!

On a more positive note, I am excitedly getting geared up for my annual kickball league. Once a week I take the field with a group of my peers and we play a game that has less to do with athletics and more to do with the drinking that ensues after our almost inevitable loss.

Needless to say, while my kickball team did not win sports-related tournaments last year, we did take the pitcher race-and that ain’t half bad.

Temping for Dummies

Perhaps it is time I revisited the issue of Tony the Temp.

As you may remember, Tony is a large man around my age who wears a small mustache, thick glasses, and he has been employed in my department for the past few months by way of a Temp agency (thus the clever nick name).

While we never talk, his breathing seems to become noticeably heavier whenever he walks near my cubicle. That’s how I know he is nearby.

While he has now been with my department for quite some time, I have maybe spoken with him twice. But, come to think of it, I can’t ever remember engaging in direct eye contact with him.

So I guess you could say, Tony the Temp is on my radar, but only in the sense that I will be careful walking to and from my car at work, especially late at night. (Who am I kidding, I would never be at the office that late. Frankly, they just don’t pay me enough.)

No cake walk.

It’s not even noon and I have already downed 2 Advil, chugged a can of Diet Coke and rapidly consumed a piece of sugary vanilla cake all in a desperate attempt to maintain my sanity and thwart a looming migraine headache.

You may be wondering, why on a Friday morning I am already so racked with panic and mental anguish. Well, because I am working on a suck-all new project that is so detail-oriented that I have to keep going back to redo work and fix minute problems.

Another reason for the pre-noon cake fix is that because this project is so important the higher ups are requiring me to keep track of what I am doing every minute of the day so they will know how long this project is going to take. So far the time-tracking reads as follows:

7/15/05

9:50-10:52 AM Redoing work from 7/14 to include changes proposed by P.Wilson.
10:52-11:18AM Resumed drafting Templates for HR Newsletters, Short break to get piece of cake.
11:18-11:20AM Updating Template Code # TPS3
11:20-11:21AM Updating Template Code # TPS4
11:21-11:22AM Updating Template Code # TPS5
11:22-11:23 UpdatingTemplate Code # TPS6 and TPS7

11:23-11:26AM Updating template for MDB3-7
11:26-11:29AM Updating MAB3-7
11:29-11:45……..checking e-mails?


I can tell already this whole day is going to just continue to bite.

Luckily this weekend plans have changed and I am now heading down to Chi-town U.S.A. to visit my old college buddies Spanish Houlihan and her husband G.I. Joe.

Bathroom bonanza!

Just now work-related arch nemesis ‘Coworker A' and I nearly collided by the bathroom.

You see, I was coming out of the bathroom and she was going in...so when she pushed, I pulled!

We quickly realized our folly of course, and oh how we laughed and laughed!

When all else fails, start drinking.

Last night after a particularly long meeting, coworker Peaches Wilson and I decided to forgo any plans for exercise and self-improvement and just start drinking.

So we headed over to a Mexican restaurant near my place and enjoyed a nice long gab fest about the people we work with and why I hate them.

Talk about catharsis.

Nothing like a fatty burrito and fresh fruit raspberry margaritas to take the edge off of life’s painful realities.

Now I am back in the office. Yesterday I learned my new desk will be DIRECTLY next to my supervisor’s-which may give you pause, as it gave me. But never fear, while this new seating arrangement may affect my work ethic for PART of the day, I will be back to my old online shopping and gossip site-reading habits in no time at all.

The quintessential dilemma.

I brought a healthy tuna sandwhich for lunch, but there's free pizza in the lounge!

Oh, what to do, what to do!

Riddle me this.....and other such nonsense.

My office space is comprised of three rows of cubicles that stretch the entire length of the building and my coworkers and I are arranged according to the departments we work in . So the group that deals with customers is grouped together, as are the marketing team members, and so one and so forth. For now, I am imbedded deep within the accounting team…not because I am on that team, but because they had no other place to put me.

Along the cubicle walls every ten feet or so hangs a small dry erase board which every team can use for whatever purpose they choose. Some teams record statistics and updates of the progress they are making or they record tasks they need to accomplish, others just leave the board blank. Thanks to my influence, accounting's dry erase board has a “riddle of the week” that we all take turns maintaining.

Essentially, each week a work-appropriate riddle is posted on the Monday, giving us the entire week to try and guess its answer. Then, on Friday the ‘Riddler’ posts the answer.

Because we are restricted to strict P.C. office codes, the riddle is usually something very mind-numbing and lame, like:

Q: “Where do you find a dog with no legs?”
A: Right where you left him.

I thought this riddle-game might be something we did for a few weeks-that would just die out as quickly as it had begun. But apparently, my department, nay my company, is SO starved for entertainment that the trand has caught on like wildfire. Every week, team members from all over the company flock to our board to try and solve the riddle while at the same time audibly wishing that their board was as ‘cool’ as ours.

Moving on, a short while after I coined the joke of the week tradition one of my co-workers decided to start posting a ‘quote of the week’ as well. This to me seems much more interesting seeing as there is a wealth of intelligent and witty quotes out there for her to draw from. To my dismay, however, she turned to this large book of quotes she owned comprised of a collection of seemingly non-sensical comments taken from a bunch of no-names and anonymouses. All are work-related I suppose, but accordingly, they are neither inspiring nor thought-provoking.

This week’s quote is a shining example of this point; and, if you can decipher its hidden meaning, for the love of God, please let me know.

“A camel is a horse put together by a committee.” (Anonymous)

Ok……what the HELL does that even MEAN! I asked the woman who has been supplying us with these little mind-turds for her interpretation. She said that it has something to do with there being too many committees that don’t accomplish anything…..yes it all makes perfect sense to me now.

Musical Chairs

I just attended a meeting where my supervisor revealed I will have to move desks.

Might this mean I will no longer be able to spend my days shopping online and browsing celebrity gossip sites?

Sadly, I believe this to be true.

But could it also mean that I might get moved to a desk near a window?

Don't bet on it.

On another, much more encouraging note, 'Coworker P,' a manager at the company just came over to my cubicle and gave me a pat on the back regarding my encounter with 'Coworker A' the other day. Apparently even he can't stand her.

Well that makes all of us good buddy. It's nice to know I am not alone.

Kelly Kapowski ties the knot.

Here is my shot at being a gossip columnist.....God I hate my job.

At 31 "Saved by the Bell's" Tiffani Thiessen can now add "newly wed" to her booming resume!

http://www.cnn.com/2005/SHOWBIZ/TV/07/12/people.tiffanithiessen.ap/index.html

Weekend Update

When you work in an office and yet you have no authority, things can get pretty dicey.

Did I say dicey? I meant annoying as shit!

While I am trying very hard to break from my habit of emotional eating, there's nothing like a pack of Peanut M&M's to take the edge off of these tediously difficult in-office situations.

Specifically, I gave 'Coworker A' a deadline on June 10th, but she has yet to get that information to me. And what can I do about this? Well, nothing because she is a manager and I am a poorly-paid underling.

Thursday night I hit the town hard with Hope and my good friend Flower Power in tow. First we went to the Pixies/Weezer show at Summerfest, and then Flower followed up the show my frequenting a few bars about town. We started in the beer garden at McGillicuddy's. Normally, I wouldn't be caught dead on Water Street (because it is a sausage fest filled with drunken frat dudes and dumb skanks); however, my friend Moody was there with her boyfriend Security Steve so I decided to make an exception. While at Mc'G's, I ran into some guys from my fall kickball team who said I looked good, and I of course agreed. I then joined my friends for some dancing and chatting.

Across the bar I spotted this guy who is friends with one of my work buddies. He is really cute, but totally conceited. Maybe I gave him the 'eye' anyway....but just for practice.

On Friday, I took the whole day off. Then I made it a Blockbuster night and watched Hitch, Dirty Shame, and one of my favorites, Clue.

Then on Saturday, after watching Clue again(for the 4th time in 2 days), I went browsing with my friend Moody St. Claire down Brady St. I bought a purse and then we had lunch at this burger joint Bella's Fat Cats. I had a cheeseburger (which wouldn't be significant had it not caused me extreme distress later).

Fast forward to later that evening: I head over to Red Light with Moody, Hope Valentine, and one of Moody's coworkers. No sooner had I downed one beer that I felt overcome with dizziness. We had ordered a cheese platter to nosh on (because, as anyone can tell you, that's all we eat here in Wisconsin) but that made little difference because I felt like I was going to vomit and cheese is not on the short list of stomach soothers.

So I walked home....quickly (because I am way too cheap to get a cab, even when I am nauseous) and I made it home just in time. That's all I will say about that.

Sunday my tummy ached, so I retreated to the suburbs to watch tv, cuddle with my dog and hang out with the fam.

Overall this weekend was really BO-ring. So next weekend Hope and I have committed to painting the town red. Which translates to more booze, hopefully less nausea, and (fingers crossed) some attractive gentlemen.

The good, the bad, and the ugly babies.

The woman who sits next to me has a very ugly baby.

To make matters worse, she proudly displays pictures of said baby all over her work space. So I can’t really ignore it, and I definitely can’t escape it.

Maybe I am being insensitive, but I just feel like this is becoming a major hindrance to my productivity (this not taking into account my tendencies to web browse for celebrity gossip and shop online).

Granted I do have an active imagination, but I just keep getting this feeling that at any moment that baby is going to show up at the office-and I can just kiss my appetite goodbye.

Maybe I am just a terrible person, but there is just nothing worse than an ugly baby.

Tom Cruise is fucking nuts.

It almost doesn't seem fair, taking aim at Tommy like this. But, oh well why not.

http://tomcruiseisnuts.com/home.php

(Photo courtesy of http://conversationsfamouspeople.blogspot.com/)

Fireworks before and after the 4th.

For most Americans the Forth of July weekend is one filled with food, fireworks and, of course, festivities! In Wisconsin, this is not just a tradition, but a way of life.

On Friday night, I met up with my good friend Hope Valentine and some of her friends from college and we hit up the Hi-Hat, a bar in Milwaukee’s downtown. While there, I happened to notice a good looking gentleman who also happened to be around 8-feet tall. Fueled by booze and an adventurous spirit, I struck up a conversation with him that lasted well into the night. I learned that he is a chemical engineer who is writing a play. Because our conversation seemed to progress without any awkward pauses-which like, never happens, I gave him my number. We shall see.

Saturday I hung around with the family and then met Moody St. Clair out for a few drinks to celebrate her boyfriend’s birthday. Her boyfriend, Security Steve is a true doll. Unfortunately, a few of his friends are real slime balls, so I left that bunch to meet up with Hope Valentine and her friends at another bar across town.

Sunday called for some major rallying. After returning to my folk’s house to do some laundry I headed back downtown to meet Hope and the gals at the park for some BBQ’n and drinking. Then, we headed down to Summerfest to catch Howie Day on one of the free stages. At 7PM most of the seats were taken so I was on bench patrol trying to grab up a place to sit. Making my way through the aisles I was thrilled to see a nice patch of bleacher so I quickly looked up to ask the guys sitting there if the seats were taken and came face to face with the Little Lawyer. L.L. was a nice, smart guy I pseudo-dated a while back. Unfortunately for me, and L.L., the chemistry was just not there. Plus he was WAY too tiny and a really close talker.

Maybe that whole reunion-thing would not have had to be SO awkward-had things with L.L. not ended so badly. Usually, I am really good at being forthcoming with a guy and will break things up with him honorably and in person. With L.L. I just didn’t feel like getting into it, so I took the low ground (frequented by the likes of Rico Suave) and just stopped returning his calls. This being our first meeting since the cease call, I thought I handled it all very well…..I acted like nothing happened, asked him to hold the seats and then ran away (subtly of course).

I didn’t see him after that. Partially because it got dark…. and partially because he is so small he just got lost in the crowds.

Either way, when I came out of the concert I had about a million and a half calls on my phone from an old friend……Captain No-Skills. I met up with him at a bar and we chatted the night away. Basically, I used that time to remind him why I spend most of our time together annoyed and that there is no way we will ever again be anything other than JUST friends. We played the “no you call me” song and dance before saying our goodbyes and that was that.

Monday night I drove back up to the ‘Quon to see my family. I watched TV, ate cookies, and then watched some mad fireworks.

Overall a good weekend.

When breakups go horribly awry.

I received these letters in an e-mail from a friend of mine. They chart the real-life final correspondences of a once-disfunctional couple. Apparently, the ex-boyfriend in this scenario was so moved by his ex-girlfriend's letter that he chose to share it, and his response with all of his friends. I am now in possession of said letters and am pleased to share them with you here. Please enjoy their contents, while keeping in mind not all women are like this.

The Ex-Girlfriend's Letter:

May 23, 2005

Dear Davey:

I have had a difficult time, over the past few years, achieving closure of our relationship. It is time for me to seek this. I have gone through the appropriate stages of anger, remorse, sadness. It is now time for me to close this chapter of my life. I am trying to recapture my life and gain a sense of identity back. In my professional life I have done this, but my personal life struggles. For so long I/We were "Sarah and Davey", that it is hard to gain my own identity back. I am not worried about my career; I will soon succeed even my wildest dreams. I am just stunted by my personal life. I am ready to release you from my life. I also on a weekly basis encounter people who want to tell me about you or have a discussion about you. I do not want to deal with this anymore. I do have a proposal on how to handle this. I am ready to no longer be forced to deal with your presence. As to how to deal with it, I propose the following:
1. I've heard you have an apartment on the West side. You need to move out of the West side of Indianapolis, this has always been my side of town, I own a house here, and do not rent like you. I grew up here, and always want to live here. I would prefer if you were to leave Indianapolis all together, but I know this is more than I can ask.I do not want to risk running into you at any store.
2. We should officially divide our friends. Particularly Jim, Jillian, Amy, and Ed. You should write them, thanking them for the opportunity to be their friend and explain why you can no longer be in contact with them. I can provide you with addresses, if you need.
3. I will stay out of Republican politics. I promise not to get involved with any Republican politics, unless my father runs for judge, and than I reserve the right to work on his campaign.
4. I would like you to not have anything to do with all things Cathedral. I feel I should have ownership of the school since my mother works there and my brother and sisters went there. You are more tied to Wabash. This should be where you dedicate your alumni status. I will be involved in Cathedral. When the time of reunions comes up, I am willing to say that you can have the reunions ending in "0" years and I will take the"5" years. So you can have 10 years and I will take 25 years.
5. I will avoid Wabash contacts. The few guys from the house I still speak to on a rare basis, I will not. I will also discourage any male offspring I have from attending Wabash. I know some of these things seem a bit harsh, but I feel they are for the best. I do not ever really wish to see you again. I know that this will of course happen beyond my control, but I think we should do our best to avoid what we can.

It is my sincere hope that you understand, and do take the time to respond. This is my last request of you.

With fondness, Sarah

The Ex-Boyfriend's Response:

May 31, 2005

Dear Sarah,

Thanks for your letter. We broke up 3 years ago. Knowing that and taking into consideration you believe me to be a cold, career focused, ego-maniac, what on earth makes you think I would take the time to think about you or agree to your proposal? But since I clearly have taken the time to respond, please take a moment to review some comments and counterproposals I have crafted.
1. First, I will have to resist the burning urge to move RIGHT NEXT DOOR TO YOU. After that deep desire subsides, I will vacate the Westside and return to my roots: The Snooty Northside, as you used to call it. However, since I was born on the Northside and I have Northside in my veins you must abdicate all ties to the North. This includes: Living on the Northside, living on the Northeastside, walking down North Street, being a fan of the Dallas Stars (formerly the Minnesota North Stars), wearing North Face apparel or telling your children that Santa lives at the North Pole.
1 (B). I was born in Indianapolis before you were so I should really get to determine who stays and who goes. In my benevolence I will let you exist here only within the St. Michael's Parish boundary (MLK Dr. to High School Rd. and 56th Street to 10th St.) We will call this the SarahZone. This should be acceptable for you as your family lives across the street and there is a gas station, grocery, convenience store, your place of employment and a fire station. Exceptions can be made with my expressed written consent. You will be required to display a large tag in your windshield giving you permission to travel beyond the SarahZone.
2. I haven't talked to your friends since we broke up. I think they got the message. However since we apparently are still in fourth grade, please have your friends meet me by the playground at recess so that I can tell them they have big fat heads and they aren't my friends anymore. Do you agree? _______Yes ________No________Maybe
2 (B). One of the few times you let us do something fun, we visited some of my family friends on Geist. It was about eight years ago. We enjoyed their boat and home for several hours during a pre-500 party. Please jot them a note saying you are going to forget that ever happened. Please also offer to reimburse them for the boat gas, pool chlorine, air conditioning Freon, Dr. Pepper and anything else you consumed while you were there. I don't have their address anymore, you can look it up.
3. Please let me know when your father runs for anything. I'm going to run against him.
3 (B). Thanks for staying out of Republican politics. Your heavyweight presence in the party will be sorely missed. I am very involved in ice hockey. I play recreationally and coach a youth team in the winter. I would prefer it if you could stop being involved in all things related to ice and ice hockey . You can use those instant first aid coldpaks to cool your drinks from now on. Also, my parents have been very involved with the Indianapolis 500 Festival for nearly 20 years. The month of May is really a big month for us. While I am not able to honor your request of moving out of Indianapolis, I would ask that you just leave town during May. With 250,000 fans going to the race and 35,000 runners in the Mini-Marathon, I don't want to run the risk of bumping into you. I know your birthday is in May, but man , I just don't care.
4. Christ, I don't have the energy for this one.
5. If any of my friends from Wabash actually still talk to you, they are fired as friends.
5 (B). I'm not going to tell my kids anything about you. But speaking of kids, it would be okay with me if my son was a crack addict, just as long as he got your kids hooked on it and became their dealer. In closing, I will never make decisions about my life or my family based on whether I might run into you at the store. I am now convinced that if we ever do bump into each other, you will spontaneously combust.

I wish you the best of luck find a spouse. Seriously. It won't be easy to find a person who is willing to spend the rest of his life raising children and making decisions based on your crazy-ass proposal to an ex-boyfriend and your inability to act like a rational human being.

All my best,
Davey