Dear Santa....

It's that time of year again-when the desperate scrambles to find gifts for your loved ones (and those you wish to suck up to) begins. In an effort to take out some of the guess work- here are some ideas of things you might get me!!!!

(These gifts will also work for any of the other special/ incredibly good looking people in your lives...):

For the writer in us all:
http://papercupdesign.com/choicesfolds.html

For the literate...with plenty of pictures for the illiterate:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0060899190/002-5734292-0911237?v=glance%26n=283155%26s=books%26v=glance%26tagActionCode=harpercollinspub

http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/shopping/product/detailmain.jsp?itemID=10794&itemType=PRODUCT&iMainCat=1094&iSubCat=1095&iProductID=10794

For the make up enthusiasts..like ME:
http://www.sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P37590&categoryId=C7374&shouldPaginate=true

For the winos with hearts of gold:
http://www.coolstuffcheap.com/cooper-cooler-rapid-beverage-and-wine-chillers.html

For the people with no sense of balance or aim:
http://www.target.com/gp/detail.html/ref=br_1_8/601-3000798-1078544?%5Fencoding=UTF8&frombrowse=1&asin=B0000C6DWX

Supplies!

I was on my way to the break room when I overheard “Coworker P” (who is newly in charge of ordering and maintaining office supplies for our department) loudly bragging about how she is doing a MUCH better job at office supply management than the girl who used to fill the completely unofficial position.

Since I asked “P” to order me a single Sharpie marker a little over a month ago, and haven’t heard back from her about it except for the occasional e-mail here and there telling me she ordered the wrong thing, I am going to have to go ahead and disagree with her on this one.

When a printer/copier is more than a printer/copier.

When I got into the office today I was really struggling for inspiration on what to talk about in this blog. Then I got e-mails from three separate department heads asking everyone in the department to attend one of 5 scheduled training sessions on how to use the department’s new printer/copier.

The last printer/copier broke under somewhat “mysterious” circumstances, so I can understand why “Company X” would want to protect their investment with a little "how-to" lesson for all the chuckleheads working in this Godforsaken department; however, each training session is slated to last 45 minutes. 45 MINUTES! What can they possibly show us that would fill that grossly unnecessary time slot: how to rebuild the copier should it explode?!

I mean, GIVE me a break!

Kooky Kathy's up to her old tricks

At least 3-4 times a week I go to the gym after work; and once there, I somehow manage to encounter the strangest collection of off-the-wall-characters that this fine city has to offer.

Amidst the odd ball assembly, I would have to say the most consistently peculiar is a lady we’ll call “Kooky Kathy.” Morbidly obese and mustachioed, Kathy has become a daily fixture in the small stretch/T.V. room within the ladies’ locker room; and, despite my best efforts to ignore her, Kathy has persisted in talking to me every single time I am there.

We have an interesting dynamic, Kathy and I, and as she jovially delves into stories ranging from her “mentally-retarded” friend’s dream to attend a WWE Smackdown match to her own extensive list of medical woes; I politely oblige her with the occasional “uh-huh” and “oh, that’s too bad-I’ve heard boils are painful.”

Lately, she has made it her mission to alert me to the countdown until her knee surgery-as if I could have forgotten our last 30 conversations about that very topic. On Monday she worried the surgery might not occur, because her doctor had said she had a urinary tract infection…and at that point, what can you say really?

As fate would have it, Kathy probably went into surgery today at 5:30 AM, and I wish her only the very best; because frankly, she puts the “fun” in my dysfunctional trips to the gym.

Diet Coked out.

Only five hours into my day and I have somehow managed to drink an uncharacteristic four cans of Diet Cokes. At what point does a person need to accept personal responsibility for such a crippling lapse in judgment?

Here is how it happened:

Diet Coke 1: I bought for myself this morning when I did not have enough time to stop for coffee.

Diet Coke 2: Coworker L bought for me as a repayment for the 50 cents I lent to her last week. Try as I could to resist, I was physically unable to say "no" mainly because I think she is the coolest people working in this office. (Note: This incredible honor based solely on the important things in life; specifically, good looks and possession of expensive accessories.)

Diet Cokes 3 and 4: Lunch drink coupled with my inability to say "no" to a free refill.

One more Diet Coke and I fear I will turn into a carbonation bubble. Which leads me to my next question: can carbonation bubbles collect on 401 K's? Just wondering.

When 2-D is no-longer good enough...

What does a girl have to do to get some 3-D glasses around here!?!?!

http://www.nbc.com/nbc/Medium/3d/

Meanwhile, the weekend ebbed and flowed much like the career of Neil Patrick Harris; and, I am so looking forward to Thanksgiving that I can BARELY hold in my girlish squeals of glee.

On Friday I went out with Darling Peterson and Wakefield, Petal and Keanu Personality, and Dr. Franklin Serious for some cocktails and conversation. Intellectual debates ranged from the psychosis behind nail biting to a lively argument with Petal about Charlize Therone's REAL age. I said closer to 30, while Petal was convinced it was more along the lines of 26.... (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000234/).

Saturday was passed with a leisurely, be it expensive trip to Michael's craft store to stock up on some holiday cheer for my apartment. $100.00 and a 4'ft fake Christmas tree later, I met Hope Valentine and some old friends from highschool for dinner.

Overall, no records were broken-but really it was not too shabby as weekends go; and, more importantly, I made it the whole weekend without biting my nails once!

Dueling Coworkers

There are three types of people working in my company right now: those that fly under the radar, those that fly on the radar, and those who would like to think they are in charge of the radar even though they work at the airport beverage cart.

Now that I am in charge of the company blog I am getting a chance to deal with that third type of employee-and I am finding it really hard not to hit them.

Take for example, Coworker E. E is an ambitious lad who seems to exist in a state of constant corporate panic. As a result, I try to keep our interactions brief, and have thus far been successful in my efforts. That was, of course, until yesterday when out of nowhere he decided that he should get approval over everything I post on the blog.

See below for an abbreviated version of our e-mail exchange:

Westchester(Abbreviated): E, I am working very closely with PR Vice President X and Director of Marketing names here) to ensure the quality and accuracy of the posts. Also, before absolutely anything is posted Director of Marketing X reviews the pictures and text to make sure everything is on message. That being said, if you still would like to look over each entry before I post, I will send you the text and pictures with a 2-hour response time. If we don't hear from you within that period, we will use my best judgment at what to post. That being said, if at any time you see something that does not work, we can easily remove it from the site.

Coworker E (And I am quoting him exactly here): Westchester, I think we might be wasting time emailing on this. I’ll stop by your desk tomorrow in the earlier part of the day and we can discuss this with your supervisor.

If your direction is to turn around pictures on the blog within two hours then we need to review this and make sure our information has some type of filter . This turnaround time has not been part of any executive meeting I’ve been in regarding the promotion of the company.

My direction from President X, Vice President R, and Senior Vice President S was to make sure the information was correct and presented the “true” destination in a positive manner that resulted in the increase of customer confidence.

So I can be prepared when we discuss this in person?

Westchester: Well E, that might be ok; but instead, might I suggest we solve this the old-fashioned way with a duel to the death. Meet me after work behind the dumpsters, and bring your favorite saber and duff-gloves.

Boredom Solved!

From our loyal friends at "The Office":

http://game.panlogic.net/boredmeeting.swf

When even the lunch break can't save the day.

Every day, with the exception of a few reprieves here and there, I eat lunch with a couple of girls in my department. They are nice enough, and I really have nothing bad to say about either; however, we have nothing in common except for the fact that we work for the same company.

Most days I am able to feign enthusiasm for their stories about window dressing and inside jokes they shared with their husbands-and sometimes I will tell them about my newest crush. But today I couldn’t even fake it. I just gazed past them out the window, carelessly chewing on my carrots and wishing the day was over.

It has been one of those weeks I think. I am not sure if my boredom stems from the ugly and inevitable approach of the season’s first snow, or because I am not getting enough sleep. Either way, I am glad it’s Tuesday, because that means I am almost half way to the weekend.



Quote from television’s The Simpons:

Duff book of records: Springfield is now the fattest city in the U.S.
Homer: “Woo Hoo. In your face Milwaukee.”

Weekend Update

For those of you who have actually checked this blog in the past few days, I apologize for my startling lack of updates. Suddenly, in an act that can only be described as divine irony, I have become VERY busy at work. The irony here is not in the fact that I am suddenly crazy busy (although I have had an awful lot of down time for someone in a management position), but instead it lies within the nature of the new work itself. You see, I was recently asked to attend a meeting about Company X's technology strategy, and in that meeting the subject of corporate blogging came up.

Coworker A: Westchester, we want you to run the company's blog. Have you ever managed a blog before?

Westchester: (deer in headlights)....uh, no....but, I have friends who have.

What a save! I should have been an actress, or at least involved myself in the performance arts, because man am I convincing! Anyway, I am now the official company blogger for the company I have been blogging about for the past 5 months. Clearly, there is a God, and he is messing with me.

Speaking of notable performances, I found this little jem through Pink is the New Blog. Try as I may, I couldn't make it through to the end. I think you will understand what I mean if you attempt to watch THIS.

The Crossroads

At some point in every person’s life, there exists a cross roads. A crucial moment where a decision needs to be made, and the outcome will forever separate the women from the girls, and the adults from those destined to remain a slave to their demons FOREVER (echo, echo, echo, echo).

Sadly, I am no different when it comes to temptation, and at this very moment I remain perched at the cross road of my own personal battle, perilously teetering between success and a very bitter surrender (cough) failure (cough). Indeed, my personal demon is an elusive one, a genetic habit that has haunted not only me, but also the plights of my mother and brothers. Really, it can be summed up in two words: oral fixation.

At this point, your eye brows are probably raised, but before you judge, please let me explain. You see, it is now Day 7 in my new-found resolve to stop biting my nails. That’s right, your very own Little Miss Westchester is a hardened career-nail biter, just like my brothers before me, and my mother before them, and her mother before her…well you get the idea. But recently I have decided to change all that by quitting my nail biting ways, and thus beating my life long struggle to scratch my own back with out the help of a backscratcher, or worse, a fine-toothed comb.

Up until now I have been doing great, without any slipups to speak of. But that was then, this is now; and today, in a desperate frenzy of boredom and perhaps madness I somehow managed to bite off the nail polish from every one of my fingers that only days earlier I had so meticulously applied to each fledgling nail.

Now that the urge to bite has passed, and my eyes have stopped swirling around in my head, I wish I could explain to you the insanity that overtook me. Truly it was stronger than myself; and now, all that remains from the frenzy is the small pile of nail polish clipping that are surrounding my desk chair and a hefty load of guilt. Indeed, failure seems so close I can almost taste it (this might also be because I still have nail polish chips stuck to the inside of my mouth).

Either way fair reader, tonight I plan to repaint my nails, and tomorrow, I will begin again. Yes, tomorrow is a new day; and, with the help of my new-found empowered inspiration, coupled with a fresh coat of nail polish, I plan to stay strong. Not only will I do this for you fair reader, but also for my country, and most importantly, for me- because honestly, I think I swallowed some of that nail polish and I am feeling a little light headed.

Get this guy some glowsticks!

http://www.big-boys.com/articles/dancingroommate.html

Thanks to F. Early, for once again sending me a little piece of cultural bliss that manages to both enliven my spirits and delight the mind.

It's just a little crush....

It has recently been brought to my attention that among the scope of my many delightful character traits remains the unfaltering fact that I seem to be almost always harboring a secret crush. In fact, whenever I talk with my friends, after the initial pleasantries are exchanged, the inevitable question that arises is always: “So Westchester, any new crushes these days?”

I am not sure when this started, or how I came to be such a “Crush Master”; but, I think perhaps it may all stem from the fact that I am a BIG wimp; and rather than trying to hit on guys or attempt to ask them out, I have just gotten into the habit of harboring a lot of unrequited secret crushes from afar.

In college, I once read that in order to communicate attraction with a man standing at the opposite side of a crowded room, one had only to make eye contact, and then smile. At that point, the magazine argued, if he was interested, the man would take that smile as an invitation for a conversation and most definitely approach. This seems logical for normal people; yet, I found that in my case, as soon as my gaze was met-a look of sheer panic would overcome my face and I would quickly look away (much like a deer would freeze when caught in the glaring headlights of a semi-truck barreling towards them on a country road). As you can imagine, that plan of “spot and smile” rarely worked for me.

These days, while I am no longer the “Deer in Headlights” gazer that I once was, I still manage to boggle any attempts at cross-room communications. For example, whenever I am at the gym I diligently practice making eye contact with the bevy of cute guys in the weight room without looking away in a crazed panic whenever our eyes do meet. I like to think that one day, my attempts at eye contact might work, and one of my gym crushes could conceivably talk to me. At that point, the likelihood of a panic attack is still very real; however, it is nice to think that maybe I could hold it together long enough to impress upon said guy my masterful wit as well as my uncanny ability to look beautiful after 45 minutes of running on the tread mill (the latter statement here remains indisputably unsubstantiated).

In the meantime, I will continue to live my sassy single life with my secret crushes remaining a secret; however, according to many valid sources, “to know Little Miss Westchester is to love her,” so for the lucky guy who does manage to skyrocket from secret crush to a realized crush-well I guess it doesn’t get any better than that.

Weekend Pics!

Here are a few pics Fucking Early just sent me from her digital camera:






The gangs all here! Here is a great picture of me with the girls, you will have to forgive me though, I am looking a little cartoonish in this one.







Oh, and here is a good one of me and Jen Scheft, man that bitch would NOT leave me alone!

Chicago

Time for the recap!

In celebration of my good friend Jazzy A’s 25th birthday, I spent Saturday night in Chicago. I always enjoy these visits because not only does it give me a chance to see all my old college friends, but it also provides me with the perfect opportunity to try and bully them into reading this blog.

After two hours in the car and almost $200.00 dollars in tolls I finally arrived at good friend Spanish Houlihan’s apartment. After three hours giggling like schoolgirls, we left her pad to quickly stop by a going away party for old friend Joe Hollywood before hitting up Jazzy’s bash. Joe is a very talented actor who is leaving Chicago to pursue his acting dreams in, well, Hollywood. We will miss him, and I wish him the best of luck. Don’t forget Joe, once you are famous I am always available to walk the red carpet with you and to help you fuel the fires of tabloid fodder. I can see the headlines now: “Joe Hollywood seen break-dance fighting with mystery brunette in crowded subway station.”

After that bash, Spanish and I taxi-cabbed it over to Jazzy’s party at new Chicago hotspot McFadden's. The whole gang was there: Jazzy, Peppermint Patty, Fucking Early, Foxy Sunshine, Nurse Blondie and my new best friend Jen Scheft (of ABC’s The Bachelorette/ Bachelor fame, pictured left.) Jen was there with some friends, and for some reason she kept pretending that she didn’t know me, and even refused to give me a hug-she is such a kidder!



Anyway! We all had a great time dancing on the bar (not me so much as Jazzy A and Spanish), hitting our $30 dollar drink minimums, laughing at my jokes, and talking about how great my blog is (ok it was just me on that last one)….so when we finally got back to Jazzy’s place we were all tuckered out. Spanish and I crashed on the couch and immediately fell asleep. Sigh. The next day we had a reunion brunch at then it was time for me to head back to Milwaukee.

What a great weekend!

(The Birthday Girl in rare form. Happy 25th Jazzy!)

Working it out.

This weekend I am traveling south to the land of Chicago to celebrate the birth of my good friend and former roommate Jazzy A. Being a big fan of Jazzy’s I have been looking forward to this trip for some time now; not only because of the celebration that is sure to ensue, but also because I will also get to see my great friends Spanish Houlihan and Peppermint Patty.

It’s not that this has been a bad week, per say, but there have definitely been some moments which I am more than ready (nay, eager) to put behind me. For example, the less than stellar moment this Wednesday night when, after a long yet forgettable day’s work, I came face to face with one of my worst nightmares.

Fifteen minutes into my workout, I was just beginning to let go of some of the day’s stresses when, who should waltz into the gym, but “Supervisor K.” Confidently he skulked across the room searching for a free machine, ultimately settling on the elliptical machine directly behind mine. That was certainly one of the more awkward 45 minutes in my recent memory, with me desperately trying to avoid eye contact in the wall mirrors while at the same time silently cursing my cheap walkman for its inability to turn to a volume that could conceivably drown out the sounds of K’s heavy breathing.

To make a long story short (too late) I am really glad it’s Friday.

For your viewing pleasure, I have included this pictorial reenactment of Wednesday's gym fiasco. Please understand however, this is only a reenactment.

On the road again...

Last night, on my drive home from the gym, I ended up getting stuck behind an obnoxiously slow car, boasting an equally obnoxious display of bumper stickers. Here are the highlights:

and then my personal favorite:

It really is a laugh a minute on my commute.

The uglier side of the "Information Highway."

I found this site while searching for some completely unrelated information about "Ripley's Believe it or Not." I can't be sure, but I think that this may just be the lamest thing I have ever seen.

http://www.gregfrewintheatre.com/frewin/

Dreamweaver

Last night I had a dream that Chris Martin (lead singer from Coldplay/ international dreamboat) showed up at my front door with the hopes of hanging out with me. At first I was a little confused, having never met the man; however, that feeling quickly passed. We immediately hit it off (of course) and began laughing and talking about old times while discussing my secret ambition to be the lead singer in a Weezer cover band.

Next thing I know, we were transported…perhaps through telekinesis…to my family’s home where my mother was frantically attempting to switch the Halloween decorations with those intended for Thanksgiving. Chris was soon overwhelmed by this, and (very graciously mind you) escaped back to England.

At that point I woke up with this inexplicable feeling of resentful towards my mother.

Gotta love the holidays!