Thursday, September 29, 2005

Tom Cruise is a little bitch.

Like most people I was a huge fan of the Cruisester following the release of movie classics like Cocktail and Top Gun; however, with the frenzied efforts of his lawyers to prevent any shred of bad press and Tom's apparent inability to take a joke, frankly I think the man is one big penis head.

Here IMDB.com tells of his latest attempts to rid the world of any laughter or joy:

"Mission: Impossible star Tom Cruise is furious, after learning of a fake press release heralding his plans to lecture on the evils of psychiatry. Among the reputed topics that the star was falsely said to be touching upon at his religion's Scientology Celebrity Center headquarters in Los Angeles next month, were, "How Psychiatry Invented Schizophrenia" and "Handling Sexual DisOrientation". But Cruise's attorney Bert Fields, says he plans to track down whoever is behind the fake release, telling Radar Online, "It's totally phony. Tom is not giving any lectures... In my view, it's forgery, wire fraud and, apparently, committed on an interstate basis. You could tell from looking at the names of the supposed lectures that it's nothing that comes from Tom. You know, 'Out of the Closet and into the Auditing Room' is not something Tom is going to put as the name of a lecture. He's not, in fact, giving any lectures. If he did I would sell tickets." Cruise sparked controversy earlier this year, when he attacked Brooke Shields for taking medicated drugs to help her through her postpartum depression."

What a ninny.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Message in a t-shirt.

I realize that message t-shirts are widely popular on television and with the kids; and, while I know that in the past I have been at the forefront of this trend, I think maybe it is beginning to get out of hand.

These days, rather than acting as a subversive representation of a person's personal style these often profanely suggestive/cheaply made frocks have become some kind of an over used joke, the rule rather than the exception.

My theory is that this is all just an extension of our generation's "give it to me now" complex. Why take the time and energy to get to know someone when you can read all about them on the front of their shirt?

Another problem with these message shirts is that they take away all elements of surprise!

I don't know about you ladies, but when I'm about to do some serious heart breaking I try not to go advertising it ahead of time.

Case in point:

I would think this would also be true for all of you sluts out there:

Just think about it.

Straight from my nightmares...

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20050928/ap_on_sc/japan_giant_squid

Speaking of nightmares, I have a date tonight with "Tall Pete," we'll see how that goes.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Coffee with an attitude.

Just when I think I can't possibly get ANY klutzier, I go ahead and do something like this.

Every morning when I travel from the parking lot into the office I am always struggling to balance my load of large and awkward items. From my snackified lunch box to a sometimes umbrella, huge Nalgene bottle filled with water, a purse and a freshly poured cup of steaming coffee, my arms are full, but I somehow manage not to drop anything.

Today though, something was different.

As I was hurrying from my car towards the building, I was shocked and dismayed when (for no particular reason) some of the coffee jumped through the small sip hole on the lid of the Styrofoam cup, traveled two feet through the air and landed, miraculously, right into my work-appropriate cleavage. Not my chest of course, but right into my cleavage so that it had a cleared path down through the base of my bra and then onto my stomach...burning the entire way down. (See cartoon below for pictorial reenactment.)

Apparently, I am going to need to start wearing a protective helmet and flame retardant body suit to protect myself from, well, me.

Reenactment:

The Learning Curve

Last night, before I hit the gym, I decided to switch up my normal workout music selection of the Killer’s and the Black Eyed Peas with something from way back, something a little bit old school; in other words, one of the terribly constructed mix CD’s I made in high school…..

That being said, I learned an important lesson last night, about myself, and just how far I have really come in my music tastes and mix-making abilities. To give you a little idea of what I heard, the mix started out with a little ditty from Shania Twain, perhaps you’ve heard of it, “Man I feel like a Woman” to be immediately followed by Limp Biscuit’s “Rollin,” Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic”…. and then ultimately Jay-Z’s “Big Pimpin’.” And, yes, they were all arranged in that order.

Now admittedly, all are great songs in their own right-but, maybe not all together and one right after the other.

As Jay-Z’s well-written lyrics streamed through my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder if the people working out around me realized just how very white I really am. “Big Pimpin’” tells of a man that’s “Comin’ straight up out the black bar-rio,” who “makes a mill' up off a sorry ho.” ……..and personally, I just don’t really know what that means.

In J’s defense, having grown up in a mostly-white, upper class suburb of Milwaukee, I have never even seen a “ho” outside of Pretty Woman, let alone made any money off of her. But then again, I probably wasn’t the target audience for that song anyway.

I still really like it though, so in the future I will just try to put it in a track slot that does not directly follow a white woman whining about a series of her life's inane misfortunes and social foibles.

In the meantime, I am going to file that mix CD under "learning curve" and hopefully we can all forget it ever happened.

Monday, September 26, 2005

For your reading pleasure

Worst Album Covers Ever:
http://porktornado.diaryland.com/albumcover.html

Fortune Cookies gone WILD:
http://www.badcookie.com/

Delusions of Grandeur:
http://www.blackpeopleloveus.com/

I think they're being serious.....
http://www.urbancougar.com/

Boy...these guys really hate horses:
http://horsehater.blogspot.com/

My childhood revisited

Good things can happen when you wish for them hard enough....

http://www.muppetcentral.com/news/2005/092005.shtml

Monday morning smackdown.

I am back in the office. Not much has changed since Friday, however, here are the highlights from the weekend:

1. On Friday night I went out with Dick Ebert, Lance Friendly, Hope Valentine and the rest for some comedy and cocktails. First, Dick and I headed to Milwaukee’s famed Shank Hall to see Bob and Tom’ers “Paul and Storm.” They were very funny and I enjoyed their show immensely. Then we met up with Lance and the gang at Hotel Metro for some drinks and conversation. Pretty low key.

2. Saturday, Peaches Wilson and I went shopping before heading over to “Coworker M’s” house warming party. M had said we could come at any time throughout the day, and that the party would be going until 10PM; however, when we got there at 6, absolutely no one was around and I noticed a sign on the front door explaining that the group had moved onto Applebee’s to catch the tail end of some sporting event. So Peaches and I through up our hands on that one and instead went to dinner before making plans to meet up later in the evening.

At 10PM Peaches and new friend “Kate Smiley” picked me up at my apartment, before heading over to one of Milwaukee’s oldest North Avenue bars. No sooner had we sat down that I noticed “Smelly the Chef” circling round our bar stools.

I have known OF Smelly for almost ten years now, as he used to work at a favorite restaurant of mine as one of the pasta bar chefs. At pasta bar customers can choose a type of noodle, sauce and fixin’s and then watch as a practiced cook prepares it right before your very eyes. Since I only saw him in that venue, our conversations never extended beyond the things I wanted him to put in my pasta dish and his complaints over just how much he hated his job. I recognized him immediately despite his full beard and apparently, his aggressive bout of psoriasis.

At first I tried to ignore Smelly, but, he would have none of that, and after walking past for the fifth time without response, he came right up behind me and whispered in my ear “Let me know when you want me to buy you a shot…” and when I still didn’t turn around, “Yes, I am talking to you.”

At that point I had no choice but to swivel my stool and say “Smelly! How are you?”

I won’t bore you with the details of our conversation-because frankly, I don’t want to have to relive it. Mostly he just talked lectured about tomatoes and the difference between faux organic food and actually organic food.

To be honest, the only time I listened at all was when he was regaling me with stories of how he came to lose his drivers license (marijuana possession) and how, one night, as he was walking home from work, some guys jumped him and he was forced to defend himself with a meat thermometer. For dramatic effect Smelly then pulled that very same meat thermometer from his front pocket, thrust it into my face, and asked if I wanted to feel the tip because really, “It is very sharp Little Miss Westchester, go ahead…..touch it.”

I kindly declined his offer just as Peaches and Kate FINALLY decided to save me from that seemingly endless hell.

3. Sunday, I cleaned my apartment and accepted a date invitation from one of Lance’s friends “Tall Pete.” I met Pete the weekend before Labor Day and haven’t really heard from him since-with the exception of a few last minute invitations which I had to decline because of withstanding plans. We have plans set for Wednesday night…we shall see.

Well, I guess I should go back to work….or start working.

Have a nice day!

Friday, September 23, 2005

Fighting the good fight.

Oh my: http://www.journalnet.com/articles/2005/09/23/news/local/news05.txt


On another note, I have no work to do and it is getting ridiculous.

....

Apparently, there IS such a thing as TOO many Doritos....and I am sad to say I have just reached my limit.

T.G.I.Fabulous

Post kickball Fridays always leave me feeling not so fresh-not the kickball part mind you, but the pitcher race part following the game.

You may be asking yourself, "Self, what is a 'pitcher race'?"

Well my faithful reader, a pitcher race stems from a bar's clever ruse to sell pitchers of beer by making a game out of alcoholism. Teams compete to see who can drink the most pitchers of beer in a set period of time. This is successful because people in Wisconsin like to drink, and we like to compete. So throw the two together, and your have yourself a sure fire win.

While there are five different bars sponsoring pitcher races for the kickball league, please let the record show that at our sponsored bar my team is now beating the nearest competitor at a confident 51 pitchers to 33. And that's not even counting the pitchers consumed within the past two weeks.

Yes, athletically....we are not that great....but off the field, well, we are competitors in our own right.

Later today I have plans to go to lunch with Peaches Wilson, but in the meantime, I have prescribed myself a breakfast of champions, custom tailored to combat my specific hangover symptoms.

It is as follows:

1. Diet Coke
2. Peanut Butter sandwich on mostly frozen bread
3. Nacho Cheesier Doritos

Maybe now you can see why I am a writer and not a doctor.

Recipe for Excellence (pay attention now):





(That's right, that last one is bread shaped like a teddy bear; although, any shape would work.)

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Pig Personality Test

Don't ask me how I stumbled about this-or what possible personal gain can come from a personality quiz that draws its results from the way a person draws a pig, but.....enjoy.

Voila! Here are my results:

I am a realist, I believe in tradition, am friendly, I remember dates (birthdays, ect.). I am analytical, cautious and at times distrustful (like I'm going to buy into that) :(. I am secure, stubborn and I stick to my ideals, I am a good listener, and apparently the quality of my sex life is to be determined by the size of my piggy's tail.....fascinating.

http://drawapig.desktopcreatures.com/gallery/large.asp?id=749293&p=0&hof=1&q=personality+test

Click here to find your own results: http://drawapig.desktopcreatures.com/

Secretary Blues

Today I began work on this BS project I was just assigned which really has little or nothing to do with my job description. Despite my complaints, I am O.K. with it, because it sure beats staring at my hands all day.

In order to begin this new task I had to make a few calls to our outside advertising agency and find out exactly how this whole thing was going to work. After I finished answering their questions about why I had been given the assignment, and how, yes, I understand that this is not something that would normally fit under my job description; I managed to get all of the answers to my questions. Once I got off the phone I went over to “Supervisor K’s” cubicle to update him on all that I had learned.

After the debriefing, K asked me to type up an e-mail explaining the project so that he could send it to one of the higher ups and get some feedback about our technology limitations and whether this whole ordeal…I mean project is even possible.

I told him that I would do my best (this, of course, not being the first letter I have written for the man) and that I would send him the finished product so he could make any necessary tweaks. I joked it was probably better if he sent the e-mail to the higher up anyway, because they would see an e-mail from me, think “Who the hell is Little Miss Westchester,” and then just delete it. Then I remarked that I assumed he didn’t want me closing the letter with a “Love, Supervisor K”.

And oh how we laughed and laughed at that one!

Rainy Day.

Last night Milwaukee got stormed on.

All through the night loud bursts of thunder ravaged my sleep patterns, making it nearly IMPOSSIBLE for me to sleep in anything more than 2 hour increments. (Perhaps it was lack of sleep then, and not anything based in reality, that led to last night’s dream about "Dream Dick Ebert" having a debilitating cocaine habit.) So, when I woke up this morning with maybe 2.5 hours of good sleep under my belt I was very sleepy and just wanted to stay in bed.

But, like the (seemingly) dedicated employee I am, I dragged myself up, fed my fish, and got into the shower.

I have about a 20 minute drive into work, which I don’t usually mind because I love listening to Bob and Tom in the morning. However, as soon as I entered the on ramp I saw that there was a unusually large traffic backup and my positive outlook took a quick turn towards surly. Luckily traffic was moving and as we came around the first bend I caught a glimpse of some flashing lights up ahead-perhaps this was what was causing the delay.

“Oh,” I thought to myself, “there must be some sort of accident-perhaps these are the rescue vehicles.” (Maybe this thought wasn’t SO necessary to transcribe, but I like to have quotes here and there in my stories.)

Anyway, as traffic slowly crept towards the flashing lights I learned that the reason behind the delay was indeed a Gaper’s block (Definition of Gaper’s Block: The phenomenon of a traffic jam due to an accident, exacerbated by motorists “GAPING” at the scene.). But unlike some of the really WORTHWHILE Gaper’s blocks, (i.e. a motorcyclist with a head wound or a car with the front end so smashed in you wondered how the passengers ever got out of the car), the inspiration behind this delay was a couple of guys in tank tops trying to fix some electrical lines.

You could almost hear the sighs of disappointment coming from all the cars around mine.

By the time I got off the highway, I was running a little late so I skipped the morning coffee stop in an effort to be 10 minutes early-or what some of the militant higher ups might refer to as “on time.” Of course, “Supervisor K” won’t be here for another 15 minutes so I don’t know who I am trying to impress.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Breaking past the fourth wall.

It has come to my attention, through my blog’s complimentary statistician, that people from the following countries have accidentally or otherwise browsed onto my blog: Argentina, Portugal, Brazil, Canada, Singapore, Spain, The UK, The Netherlands, and a collection of smaller countries that Web Stats has filed under “The Rest.”

This excites me to no end.

Even if these friends from afar were only on here for like two seconds before becoming frightened and closing out their browser box-they were here and that’s something!

People of the world, you are always welcome on my Super Secret Site-even if you are only here by mistake and immediately leave once you realize this wasn’t the web address you meant to enter.

To those individuals who leave comments, I thank you-I need constant positive reinforcement and I do enjoy your feedback.

And finally, to my technologically inept mother….you should really learn how to navigate here on your own, because it’s not fun for me when I have to type in the web address for you and then page the screen down and up because you don’t understand the keyboard.

That is all.


Dream a little dream.

Last night I had this dream that my supervisor was really mad at me because I had been telling people in the company that I have nothing to do(this is actually happening in real life, although I don't think he is mad at me in real life). Anyway, in the dream, my supervisor was so mad that he sent me this lenghthy interoffive e-mail about how he doesn't like me and how I should no longer come to him to discuss the development of my position.

Today, as I was updating him on this B.S. project I had assigned myself (while I am waiting for something new to do from him) I decided to tell him about the dream-of course editing out the part about the e-mail. Actually, I only said that I had a dream that centered around him being mad at me. Then I made a joke about how in the future, if he is mad he should just tell me in one of our weekly meetings.

And then we both laughed and laughed.

When bad jobs happen to good people.

I have absolutely no work to do. So, like the good and brainwashed employee that I am, I have brought this matter to the attention of anyone who will listen. Today I got an e-mail from my supervisor about a new project he wants me to lead. I read through the forwarded message, and while it seems like a task that might be handled by someone with a COMPLETELY different job description, I am desperate, so I agree.

Later I get an e-mail from “Coworker J” which includes what seems to be the entire content of that original e-mail. Apparently, in an effort to dupe me into the job, “Supervisor K” deleted entire elements of the communication-and now I am stuck taking on this project which might be something better suited for a person in the web design department.

I could have sworn that when I applied for this job I was signing on to be a writer and not some “we were too lazy to develop your position so you can just do whatever jobs we can’t stick on anyone else” person.

Good Day/Bad Day-how quickly the tides have turned.

I am very, very angry right now.

This morning I woke up with a smile on my face and a skip in my heart. Not because anything particularly wonderful has been going on, but I was having a nice morning.

Last night I had thought that I had dinner plans with Captain No Skills (who has been in town these past few days before he ships off to Hawaii) and in order to honor those plans I even passed up a last-minute invitation to go to the Brewers/Cubs game. So, when I never heard from him, I assumed the plans were for next week and went on with my evening. I even felt a little silly that I called him three times and left a message asking where he was.

This morning, as I was coming out of the PDQ where I get my coffee I noticed a flashing red light on my phone. It was a message from the Captain.

I called him back to tell him about last nights mix up, and was "delighted" to learn that indeed, last night was the night we were to go to dinner, and he had just never bothered to call because he thought that I would call him when I wanted to go.

Trying to maintain my cool I mentioned that I had called him, several times, and I even left a message. He said he never got it. I then argued that we had made plans for 8 PM, and audibly wondered why he hadn't just called me on his own. (It's not like we have been friends for five years or anything and it would be weird for him to call). I won't even bother transcribing his excuse for that here, because it was just too lame.

Needless to say, this is the second time in a month that I have passed on a date because I had standing plans with a friend, only to have that same friend turn around and cancel/bail on me.

This is now one of my top pet peeves. You have been warned.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Up to her old tricks!

The life of a blogger is fraught with the daily challenge of finding new and relevant material to fill their little piece of the online pie. Some find the task of a daily update daunting, soon buckling under the pressure and abandoning all hopes of ever being discovered by a high profile New York publishing firm.

Luckily for me, if I ever get too desperate I need only turn towards my coworkers who dutifully/unknowingly provide an unending supply of delightfully entertaining fodder.

Today's inspiration comes once again from the wardrobe choices of a one "Coworker D." You may remember "D" from an early Microsoft Paint Shop production of mine which meticulously documented her choice to pair pigtails with tight jeans and a crocheted boob top. While I can't be sure, my guess is that her outfit this fine day was put together in a bid to project an image of chastity and good old-fashioned Christian sensibility:


The perfect blending of Halloween chic and pilgrim charm, coupled with a classic hint of pre-revolutionary flare. Thank you Coworker D. You've certainly made my day.

Mistake of garmet proportions.

If you bothered to watch the Emmy pre-show this year, you may have noticed THIS woman strolling down the red carpet:

I don't know who this woman is-but her outfit has made me physically nauseous and now I can't finish my coffee.

Monday, September 19, 2005

Reunion

This weekend a group of my collegiate sorority sisters ( Peppermint Patty, Spanish Houlihan, Jazzy A, and Fucking Early-to name a few) and I high-tailed it out to the Wisconsin Dells for some “rest and relaxation” (which is really just code for heavy drinking coupled with kick-ass water slides).

After the obligatory naked pillow fights (JUST KIDDING, only Fucking Early was naked) we slapped on our swim suits and went to the pool. That night we headed to a bar called “Nig’s” and later Monk’s where we would later learn that in the Dells, cab service is a bit less than punctual (in other words, you may very well wait two plus hours before getting a ride).

Saturday we woke up, ate breakfast, and headed to the water slides. One slide in particular (aptly entitled “The Hurricane”) was completely terrifying, so much so, that when all of my friends wanted to go on it for a second time, I opted to hang back by the pool and pout.

(Picture of "The Hurricane")

Later, we went down a slide which mimicked the effects of riding down a toilet bowl. Being the tightly wound 25-year-old that I am, I made Peppermint Patty, Jazzy A and a little girl go first. After each disappeared into the opening of the slide, I closely observed the small television screens above that showed the lifeguards when they could send their next rider and proved to me that everyone had survived.

It was only then that I finally agreed to get into my riding tube.

Before I would allow the 16-year-old lifeguard working the ride to send my down the slide, I carefully grilled her about what I could expect to encounter. She remarked that she hadn’t been down the slide since she was a VERY little girl, but that she remembered it hadn’t been as bad as “The Hurricane.”

Then, after making her promise not to send me down backwards, I allowed her to push me down the slide….and, not to blow the climax of this story, but OBVIOUSLY I survived.

After returning from the water parks the girls grilled up a delicious dinner while I supervised the vegetables. Following the wonderful meal, we got dressed, and headed to Ho-Chunk Casino for some gambling action. Before I go on, please don’t get me wrong, I think Wisconsin is a beautiful state and its people are some of the nicest in the world. That being said, never in my LIFE have I seen so many mullets per square footage. I know as well as the next person (apparently with the exception of the people who wear mullets) about the many websites and television gags that completely poke fun at the hairstyle, but nothing I have seen could have prepared me for what we encountered as we walked through that casino floor. You would think we walked into the annual Mullet Convention- and that was just in the parking lot.

Be that as it may, this was only the second time I have ever been in a casino and I somehow managed to win $7.70 on one of the machines-which is not half bad considering I had no idea what I was doing and just kind of inserted money and pressed the buttons that looked the prettiest.

All in all it was a wonderful weekend and I can’t wait to do it again.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

After the date.

Last night's date with Dick Ebert went really well. For those of you who weren't there, here are the high and low-lights of the evening:

Highlight

When Dick remembered things I had said in passing during our Sunday-night phone conversation and behaved like a true gentleman throughout the evening.

Lowlight

When I incorrectly argued that the Wolverine is not a real animal but a cartoon character.

For the record, while the Wolverine is ALSO a cartoon character (brought to life on the big screen by the foxy Hugh Jackman) it was first and foremost an animal that is found predominantly in the northern United States and Canada.

Wolverine the animal.

















Hugh Jackman as Wolverine.

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Clever is as clever does.

I have an interview tomorrow for a job at another company, but I told my boss it was a dentist appointment! Poor petulant fools (wahahahahhahah)!

To answer your question, yes, it is hard being THIS clever all of the time, BUT somehow I manage.

On another note, the finger burn I sustained yesterday from the terribly unfortunate pizza incident still hurts, and yes, I am still pouting over the matter.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Burn baby burn.

I have a date tomorrow night with Dick Ebert, and to be perfectly frank I am already nervous about it. Before yesterday’s conversation with Lance Friendly I was all confident and secure, and now I am nervous-

Meanwhile, today at lunch I somehow got distracted as I was taking my lean cuisine mini-pizza out of the microwave at which moment the steaming Italian dish slid right off of its little warming flap and right onto my middle finger. The hot cheese and sauce immediately singed my flesh, and pizza bits splattered everywhere as I urgently shook my finger, desperately trying to save it from a blister. I somehow managed not to scream and am now nursing my wound with a small cooler pack I borrowed from my friend “Coworker M” and the banana I have been chilling in the office fridge all day.

Not to worry folks, I will be strong…and if nothing else, maybe this will give me something to talk about during tomorrow’s date.

Prison vs. Work

I received this a while back in an attachment from my good friend M. F. E..-it is both enlightening and thought provoking....as always, enjoy!

Prison vs Work. Just in case you ever get these two environments mixed up, this should make things a little bit clearer.

IN PRISON..........you spend the majority of your time in an 10X10 cell.
AT WORK............you spend the majority of your time in an 8X8 cubicle.

IN PRISON.........you get three meals a day.
AT WORK...........you get a break for one meal and you have to pay for it.

IN PRISON..........you get time off for good behavior.
AT WORK............you get more work for good behavior.

IN PRISON..........the guard locks and unlocks all the doors for you.
AT WORK............you must often carry a security card and open all the doors for yourself.

IN PRISON..........you can watch TV and play games.
AT WORK...........you could get fired for watching TV and playing games.

IN PRISON.........you get your own toilet.
AT WORK..........you have to share the toilet with some people who pee on the seat.

IN PRISON..........they allow your family and friends to visit.
AT WORK............you aren't even supposed to speak to your family.

IN PRISON.........all expenses are paid by the taxpayers with no work required.
AT WORK............you get to pay all your expenses to go to work, and they deduct taxes from your salary to pay for prisoners.

IN PRISON..........you spend most of your life inside bars wanting to get out.
AT WORK ...........you spend most of your time wanting to get out and go inside bars.

IN PRISON ..........you must deal with sadistic wardens.
AT WORK...........they are called managers.

Monday, September 12, 2005

The importance of using protection....

In a proactive step to combat hackers, my company requires even the lowest of peons on the corporate ladder to change their network passwords every 30 days. In addition to that maddening time limit, the new password can not be any of the passwords you've used in the past- and it must have at least one capital letter and one number.

So much for 1,2,3,4,5.

But anyway, I guess I can sort of see the urgency surrounding the protection of MY computer. One can only imagine the chaos that might follow a security breach on the Word documents containing the hotel descriptions I have written.

First the power would probably go out throughout the building, then maybe someone would find out that the only place my company has ever sent me to "see" these places has been online. And once that gets out, well, it's only a matter of time before the planet spontaneously combusts.

See we're doing our part to save the environment after all.

Dating for Dummies

Alright, so perhaps a massive blow to my fragile, yet unnecessarily large ego had been averted once again.

After an EXTENSIVE e-mail conversation with Lance Friendly that lasted well into the afternoon debating whether or not Dick meant to ask me on a date , I returned from lunch to find a follow-up e-mail from Lance saying he got a call from Dick, Dick is nervous about drinks, and that yes, Dick probably likes me.

I guess this should be a lesson to myself and anyone listening that I should not to go to Lance for dating advice.

Panic subsiding, nervousness abating, breathing back to normal, tragedy avoided.

Humiliation and a movie.

So this Friday I went out with my pal "Lance Friendly" and a bunch of his friends (including my new gal pals and kickball comrades "Darling Peterson" and "Petal Personality").

One of Lance's male friends, who we will call "Dick Ebert," talked to me all night long-and seemed really interested in getting ot know me. Darling and Petal thought there was a real chemistry between us, so none of us were surprised when Dick asked me if I wanted to do a movie night the next day-and then gave me his number.

I had already made plans with Flower Power for Saturday-so I turned him down and said perhaps we could do it some other time. He seemed like a nice guy so on Sunday I called and asked him if he wanted to go for a drink after work sometime this week. The whole phone conversation seemed a little odd-so it really gave me pause as to what his intentions were.

I asked Lance about it this morning and he confirmed my suspicions by saying Dick just likes to hang out with people, has a lot of girl buddies, and he was probably not interested in me in a romantic sense.

I have to ask, am I the ONLY person in this city who seems to land themselves in ridiculously humiliating situations on a somewhat daily basis?!

Friday, September 09, 2005

Lessons in bad taste.

I don’t mean to be a bitch….well o.k. maybe I do-but I can’t help it, there are some people in my department taking the “Casual Friday” dress code WAY too casually. Let’s take “Coworker D” for example. The woman jus turned 30, is probably 40 pounds overweight and she is wearing tight jeans, PIG-TAILS, a tight brown shirt and a cream colored crochet shirt over it which she tied ever-so-snuggly beneath her ample bosoms.

Actually, maybe this is more an example of bad taste than anything else.

Either way, here is a diagram of the offending ensemble:

Apparently you CAN get hurt in kickball.

Last night my kickball team received a disappointing blow to our previously seamless playing record when, during my first up-to-kick, I somehow managed to pull a huge muscle in my leg-which ended up benching me for the remainder of the game.

Hope Valentine-a new addition to the team- had very little pity for the tight pains running up and down my leg-so I made sure to secretly punish her by glaring in her general direction from the bench while she was in the outfield.

I wouldn’t go as far as to say my injury prevented us from winning the game-but it certainly handicapped our chances. And, I am fairly certain that had I been well enough to kick again, I would have righted the wrongs of all the previous innings.

But take heart fair sports fans/my 6 loyal readers, the injury will probably heal within the next few days, just in time for next week’s game!

I guess until then though there will be no more stilettos.

On a work-related note, there is nothing for me to do here. My boss knows this, and, I guess is o.k. with that. Yea corporate America!

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Look at all the shiny lights...

After extensive debate, Victoria “Posh Spice” Beckham stunned the world with the revelation that (contrary to popular beliefs) she is in fact literate. If you missed it, here is a fake exerpt from that groundbreaking interview:

Underlings: Posh Spice can’t read.
Posh: Yes I can! And to prove it I have written a book about the trials and tribulations of being one of England's most famous wives. There is also a chapter about having so much money I don't know what to do with it all.
Underlings: Sounds like a real page turner. Maybe you should stick to singing about the extensive list of requirements one must have before they can qualify to be your lover.
Posh: Well there is a chapter about that as well-along with an extensive diagram. Cheerio.

Made you look.

Innocent tourists and citygoers go about their daily business, unaware of the bulging threat looming just above their heads....


Just keep you eyes forward, don't look up, and hopefully no one will lose an eye.

Personal triumph of the day.

I just heard from my friend and kickball teammate "Peaches Wilson" that I may have been voted MVP last week by some of my other teammates.

I would be lying if I said that this hasn’t been my secret dream all along....and that I haven't secretly expected this was coming.

Even if this delightful gossip isn’t true, I will continue to hold out for the title in my mind ever striving to be the best kickballer Milwaukee has ever SEEN!

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Micromanaged in Milwaukee

After almost three months of street parking, I have decided to rent out a parking spot from one of the small lots near my apartment before it starts to snow and street parking becomes a chaotic and veritable hell. Luckily for me, there are around four small lots nearby; and, being the shrewd business woman that I am, I chose to rent from the one that forces me to start renting now, a full three months earlier than I had originally intended.

So last night, after work and a trip to the gym I met “Parking Pete” outside his lot with a check in hand for the first month’s rent and a smile on my face. When I first contacted Pete regarding the availability of spots, he kept me on the phone for about 15 minutes going over how he originally acquired the lot, the finer details of snow removal, his rental history in the area, and a detailed account of how he came to live above the Mr. Shoe. In other words, I knew the man could be long winded; however, very little could have prepared me for the renting ordeal that lay before me.

As soon as he arrived Pete started sizing up my vehicle and thinking out loud about which spot he could possibly assign me to. A short man with crooked teeth, Pete reminded me of some of the nicer-looking homeless men I have seen in the city. His hair was messy and uncombed, the sleeves had been cut off of his tattered shirt, and his khaki shorts were well worn in with a permanent square bulge in the back pocket where his cigarettes were kept.

Pete deliberated for about five minutes on where to fit my car, finally deciding on a spot that was already being rented out. He asked me if I could wait in the lot while he retrieved the renter and asked her to move her car. I realized then that he was probably drunk.

Once spots were reassigned and cars were adjusted he gave me a four minute briefing on how I needed to swing my car wide when pulling into the lot followed by a comprehensive explanation of how the car on the end never pulls in far enough and how the owner of the bright blue car at the back is afraid of parking and often needs Pete to pull his car in and out of the driveway.

Finally, he told me about how he plans to pull out all the weeds surrounding the pavement and how he works the third shift.

At this point, I really wanted to leave….but not before Pete again went over how many of his renters were cautious drivers, and then in extensive detail, reviewed their parking idiosyncrasies with me.

After what added up to about 45 minutes of lecturing on angle parking, Pete leveled a serious blow to my last shreds of patience when he went on a lengthy diatribe about how my car is really long and how I may not be able to park in the lot if the other renters complain.

I made it back to my apartment with about ten minutes to spare before “Everybody Loves Raymond” during which time I blew two fuses trying to microwave my dinner and I received a phone call from Pete about the girl who parks in the spot next to mine.

Delightful.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Aren't they aDORable!



Oh Paris and Nicky, what will you think up next!?

P.S. I hate you both.

Brett Favre: doin' Wisconsin proud

Check out our favorite QB's website/collection spot for hurricane disaster relief.

https://www.officialbrettfavre.com/store/product_info.php?cPath=26&products_id=133

Friday, September 02, 2005

Living with the consequences.

Last night, after my team’s breathtaking kickball victory we began competing in the second half of the night’s competitions….the pitcher race.

And tragically, I am still very much paying the consequences of last nights debacle. Maybe I wouldn’t be so hung over right now if I had just gone home after the pitcher race instead of going out with Lance Friendly and all of his friends.

When you are the only girl in a guy pack, you end up getting a lot of drinks-and I now know more than ever how moderation is one of those skills I really need to continue to develop.

I hurt all over.

Thursday, September 01, 2005

No chance of idolatry here!

Yesterday night, per a birthday gift from my dad, my mother and I attended the American Idol concert. While I do think just saying ‘American Idols’ gives you a clue as to what we experienced, I will say the highlight…or should I say lowlight of the evening surrounded the performances of a one Constantine Maroulis. Billed as the ‘sexy rock and roller’ of the cast he seemed to spend most of the show posing for cameras, sticking his tongue out suggestively towards the crowds, and throwing around his sexuality as though it were a rag doll or a cheap coat you might wear to the bars. Well Constantine, my affections will not be won over by such antics, and nor will those of my mother.


I can’t say the whole evening was a wash, although I did keep getting the distinct impression that I had seen better performances at my neighborhood karaoke bar. Admittedly, some of the contestants do have good voices and stage presence….and then there are those, like the completely unappealing and obese Scott Savol whose only real stage flourishes involved his whipping off and sliding back on a completely unnecessary pair of sunglasses.

Luckily for me, if these songsters’ luck fairs anything like the previous American Idol brood, I won’t have to see most of them every again anyway.

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