Elvis has left the fish tank...

Tragedy has struck the Westchester homestead, with the accidental death of my pet fish, Elvis.

While the autopsy was not conclusive (there was no autopsy), I suspect he suffocated to death when I put too many/not enough PH balancing drops into the water as I was cleaning his little bowl.

For those of you who didn’t know Elvis, he was an angry little fish with a chip on his shoulder that far exceeded the scope of his underwater living space.

Here is a poem I have written in his memory:

He knew no tricks,
nor could he cuddle;
but he was with me for a year,
so I will miss his little bubbles.

Sadly, Elvis lacked the capacity to communicate with humans; however, if he could have spoken with me before he passed, I imagine that these would have been his final words.....

I will miss you my little friend!

L.O.V.E.

Click here to read this very true tale of a couple of modern-day, star-crossed lovers....

Sunshine and Updates

It’s raining outside, a fact I was unaware of until a thunder clap literally shook my office building.


Apparently it has been raining for a while now, but I have been so buried by the walls of my burlap cubi-cell that it took something as bold as a building-shaking thunder clap for me to even notice.

Moving on, my sincere apologies for the lack of updates over the past few days; however, like many Americans I had the Memorial Day off from work (Translation: three-day weekend). As you may have inferred, I am back in the office and once-again forced to come to terms with the incredibly harsh reality of the first day back after a long weekend. I know, I know, I am being a little dramatic here; clearly there are plenty of other things that rank harsher than work after a three day weekend-like a flat tire in a blizzard, house fires, and Paris Hilton…..but those things aren’t happening to me right now, so I will continue to pout. That reminds me, I need renter’s insurance and some good disinfectant.

Anyway, it was a lovely weekend here in Milwaukee, and I had a great time. Some of the highlights included the Violent Femmes/Ben Folds’ pre-Summerfest concert at the brand new Miller Oasis. I won’t bore you with the details, but let’s just say I drank my weight in beer and woke up the next morning with red dots around my eyes.

Memorial Day was also fun, and I celebrated the extra day off by attending a picnic in the park with Moody St. Clair, her boyfriend Security Steve, and some other people who don’t have names on this blog. I left early, but I guess things took a turn for the worst when some drunk under-ager started to pee near our picnic table, facing the table. Moody was understandably pissed (heh) not only because the spectacle brought her face to face with the young man’s daddy-parts but also because he didn’t wash his hands and then touched the wieners and buns. It was traumatic and I am glad I wasn’t there.

But to end on a positive note, now that summer has officially begun, I can’t wait to get out my trusty tube of SPF 50 and celebrate. Snowflakes be damned, it’s swimsuit season!

Leaving on a jet plane...

Last night on a whim, I called up old friend Captain No Skills to make sure I got to talk with him before he was deployed.

The good news is, he wasn't deployed yet; the bad news is, he is being deployed today.

We had one of our famously brief conversations where I expressed concerns for his safety and he assured me he would be ok, and then we said goodbye.

I know that six months from now the Captain will be back in Milwaukee for a visit and everything will be fine-but in the meantime, I wish him very, very safe travels and will be keeping him in my thoughts and prayers until he comes home.

Thanks for all you do to keep us safe Captain, I will really miss you!

Sweet Victory, I will make out with you if you ask nicely.

By some sort of a magically lucky break; no strike that, as a direct result of my UNDISPUTABLE talent (modesty is for suckers, remember that), I won MKE Online’s Blog of the Week Contest.

I am not sure if this has anything to do with the straight cash bribes I’ve been dolling out in exchange for votes….or maybe it was the naked pictures I sent to a few of my seven loyal readers and all of the major newspapers….either way I am very grateful to everyone who voted for me! I do it for you, and I couldn't have done it without you.

Click here to read my MKEOnline write up.

T-shits and giggles, Part Three

Poetry on a t-shirt:

"If you want it/ you can have it/ but you've got to learn to reach out there and grab it..." (Weezer)

Out with the old...

There comes a point in every person’s life when they will need to move out of their parents' house, enter the work force and start paying their own bills; and in doing so, they begin to make the transition between college and adulthood. I call this, Adul-escence.

Specifically, while you are definitely an adult by society's general standards, you probably view yourself as a kid in many regards, and can even remember your college days with a beerily-defined clarity. Also, it probably doesn’t help matters when your coworkers are reminiscing about their own college experiences-which were, oh, several years before you were born.

So it is a very odd thing when new college graduates are hired at the company-because suddenly, not only are you NOT the youngest one there, but also, these new hires probably view you as old! And all you can think is, “How can this be, I still remember college, and I haven’t even hit my ten-year high school reunion!”

The reality is, you’re not a kid anymore, you are a grown up, and time did not stop for you. Some people try to fight this realiy by continuing to go out every night, in the same pace they kept in school, while others age gracefully and keep a positive outlook about the new milestones ahead. I thought I was ok, but then again, with every passing year I am getting farther and farther away from my own college experience.

Never was this point as clear to me as the moment I was introduced to one of our newest PR interns today. A senior in college, the girl is by all means fresh-faced; so, in an attempt to be a cool mentor, I smiled and made some jokes about college and dazzled her with a description of the earrings I just bought at H& M. Frankly, I thought it all went well, well that was until I started to walk away and it slowly dawned on me that the half-smile she had been giving me was not one of unadulterated admiration and respect; but instead a look that screamed, “this poor lady, does she even know what MTV stands for?!”

WHAT I SAW:

WHAT SHE SAW:

I am not old! I am still in my twenties, like Jessica Simpson and Christina Aguilera.

I suddenly need a cocktail.

Into the Woods with Company X

I have been working for Company X for several years now, and in that time I have had the pleasure…of working with a large percentage of its employee base.

From what I can tell, there seem to be four types of people working here: the crazies, the heavily medicated crazies, a few sane people that have helped me survive the day to day (Peaches Wilson holla back!), and of course, me.

Most of the time I ignore these easily-identifiable crazies because they glare at me and usually have some sort of mucusy cough; however, there are times when they demand acknowledgement-which brings me to my current rant.

Since the appearance of the (now infamous) "Letter of Forgiveness," I have been quietly wondering which of my crazy coworkers was guilty of hanging it in the first place. I have yet to solve that puzzle, but my guess is it was the same coworker who recently hung THIS equally-steaming pile of crazy:

I realize that this highly-suspect guide to stress relief was probably supposed to be a joke-but I don’t think its funny, because there people in this department with a proven deficiency in common sense who might just take it seriously. Just in case, I will avoid going off into the forest with any/all coworkers until all of this blows over.

A Vote for Me is a Vote for You

Super Secret Rantings has been nominated for a major award.

So last night I began feverishly going calling everyone I know (in a shameless attempt to garner votes….and fish for compliments). As I worked to garner votes I started to think back on some of the other competitions/ contests I have participated in year's past.

Here are some of the highlights:

1. Fourth of July Jellybean in a jar guessing contest, Age 5

Somehow, amidst all the children at the pool that day, I came closest to guessing the number of jellybeans in the jar. This marked the beginning, and end of my already-shaky grasp on numbers. I peaked too soon.

2. Eighth Grade Student Council Classroom Representative, Age 13

Running for public office was definitely a bold move for me, seeing as I had few allies in the classroom and was not sure I could handle the pressures of the political arena. But behind the glasses and braces, something in my newly-teenaged mind said, “Westchester, you have a future in politics.” So I nominated myself and hoped for the best.

There were three other people running and we had a week to campaign-so I talked up my platform (soda machine in the lunch room + more warm cookies+ friendship bracelets) and when it came time to vote, I confidently wrote my name on the little piece of paper and silently passed it forward-quietly knowing I had a real chance.

After the votes were counted and the winner was announced (coincidently newly-elected Missy would go on to win prom queen) the teacher sadistically allowed all those who had run to see the vote tally. Anxiously I rushed towards the front of the classroom, all the while thinking to myself, “It’s just as well, this way I will still have enough time to watch the Sound of Music and sew Barbie clothes.” But as my eyes scanned the votes it dawned on me that maybe all my worrying had been for naught. Here was the official vote tally:



As you could imagine I was a little surprised that I had only garnered one vote. Not once in the week leading up to the election, or the hours I spent practicing my acceptance speech did I envision that scenario, or that when one of the other losers would ask me if I had voted for myself that I would panic and say, “Oh no, I voted for Missy.”

3. Newsletter Editor for my Charity Group, Age 17

As you can imagine, the crushing loss to Missy in the eight grade had left me a little jaded to the political arena, so it would not be until I was in my late teens that I would run for office again.

I ran unopposed and won in a landslide, the position: Newsletter editor in my Service Club. Coincidently, Missy did not run in that race- but if she had, I would have made more posters and relied a little more heavily on the power of the straight cash bribe.

Prizes AND Nudity...did you hear that, NUDITY!

To my seven loyal readers,

By some stroke of Milwaukee Magic I have been nominated for “Milwaukee’s Blog of the Week.” Please vote for me, because my mom is out of town/doesn’t know how to turn her computer on and will not be able to rally the neighborhood for my super secret cause.

If I win, there might be prizes and/or naked pictures! It’s a win/win.

VOTE HERE

All my Love,

Little Miss Westchester

It's raining men!

Hello everyone!

I am very busy at work today and cannot share a story of my own. BOO! Instead I want to introduce you to my friend Jeremy. He is a not-so quite riot so please check out his blog!

Love,

Little Miss Westchester

Shopaholic takes Milwaukee

By now you are probably aware of my shopping addiction; but believe it or not, lately I have been VERY good with my money (in an attempt to save money for my very fun, very extravagant trip with Peppermint Patty this summer).

Having said that, some women are born to fight fires and save kittens, while others are meant to rule the world. But I was born to shop and not buying things I want is beginning to take its toll-both mentally and physically. Specifically, I feel an inexplicable need to buy:

THIS

AND THIS

Someone take my credit card away! (ok not literally...)

Contrary to popular belief, there IS enough Chuck Norris to go around.

This weekend Hope Valentine and I threw it down with a Chuck Norris-themed wine/cheese/beer summer smack down. For those who were there, you know. For those sad bastards who missed out, in all seriousness it was pretty much the best party ever and I pity you for not being there.

Here are some highlights from the evening:

1. My Clevage enhancing shirt: Let’s face it, I have a nice rack and as Darling Peterson has said, I need to show it off a little more. Well, mission accomplished!

2. The very cute boy whom I allowed to hold my hand…..why, oh why am I attracted to emotionally unavailable men?!

3. The six weeks worth of DVR’d “Walker Texas Ranger” that Hope and I had playing quietly in the background.

4. Darling Peterson’s mom: Carol was in town for mother’s day and decided to come to the party. Not only is she one of the coolest mom’s ever, but major brownie points were earned when she told Darling that she couldn’t get over how “beautiful and striking” I am. YAY COMPLIMENTS!

5. My impressive toast to a newly-engaged Randee and Todd over some Grape and Strawberry-flavored Jello shots: I was pretty drunk at the time-but I think, I THINK the toast said something about hoping they have a long and happy marriage filled with good conversation and great sex.

6. The After-Smackdown party at The Garage where I bumped into Friendster pal Boston Szyslak. As usual, I was delighted to see him, and am pleased to give him this first, well-earned (and often requested) shout out.

7. Miller LOW-Life is more like it: The crippling hangover that lasted well into the afternoon was not so much a high light as a very real, reality. But I had an awesome time on Saturday night so it was all very worth it.

Thanks to all who turned out for the party! I had a great time and mostly stayed out of trouble. Hurray!

Sleeper (Cubi)Cell

So I tried to take a little nap in my cubi-cell today, I really don't see what the big deal is. I was tired, so I napped....well that was until one of my coworkers slammed her hands onto my desk yelling, "WAKE UP" so that everyone around could hear. It's not like I was sleeping UNDER my desk, which would have been so much more comfortable, but admittedly, much more disruptive.

Man, what a bitch. Vengeance will be mine "Coworker A," oh yes, vengeance will be mine.

My baby's got a secret...

Nothing interesting is happening to me today, so instead I will tell you about one of my favorite websites in the WHOLE wide word. It is called PostSecret, and it is a stellar blog run by a man named Frank Warren. If you have ever visited the site you know the premise, but in case you haven't, the blog asks people to send in their secrets on a anonymous post-card, which Frank then posts them on the blog.

Not all of the secrets are nice or pretty, but they are honest and fascinating on every level.

I don't know about you, but I LOVE hearing other people's secrets, so this site is like a crack addiction I can't shake. To give you a preview of the kinds of secrets you will see, here is the postcard I would send in if I every got up the energy to buy a stamp...or find a baby who I can photograph giving me the finger:

I hope you enjoy PostSecret as much as I do!

An American Haunting 2: The Decorcist

As many of you already know, I have an active imagination; and, if you have ever read this blog you probably also know that I have the tendency to freak out over (sometimes) practically nothing. Admittedly, this is probably just another one of those circumstances; however, I still have to tell someone just in case my intuition is correct and my apartment is in fact….haunted.

Last night I fell asleep blissfully unaware of the shock that awaited me with the rising sun; but as I rolled over to greet the dawn I couldn’t help but notice that the lamp on my bedside table had moved from one side of the nightstand to the other…and no I was not drinking last night.

My feeling is that I have a ghost. And not just any ghost, mind you, but an interior decorating ghost at that (Which is the worst kind of ghost because not only are they scary, but also unreasonably judgmental about the layout of a room).

Someone call a priest.

Forgive and forget.

Today on my way to the printer, I couldn’t help but see THIS hanging on one the office’s bulletin boards:

I am not sure who is responsible for this, or more importantly, what it was they were thinking; but I will say that I don't think it is any coincidence that the letter itself is surrounded by a bunch of Pansies.

I will also say that I hope the culprit got a big ol’ paper cut when they were hanging it up. I mean REALLY.

On an entirely unrelated note, Mystery Man sent me an e-mail today that made absolutely no mention of Saturday night or included any hint that he was ever annoyed at me at all….

Now I think, I THINK I might have overreacted. Tee-hee, girls are silly!

Only 238-days until Christmas…

Little Miss Westchester has hit a new high in bewildered man-fusion (confusion + men + alcohol = man-fusion) and regrets to inform you that she is indeed, very perplexed.

When it comes to the subject of MEN on this blog, I have (for the most part) avoided talking about my crushes. I attribute this to the fact that (being the shameless self-promoter that I am), I have told many of my crushes about the site; and, if by some wild chance they were to actually visit Super Secret Rantings and see that I was writing about them, well they might have thought that I was a little crazy; and even though WE know that is not the case, I just haven’t been willing to take that chance.

But I want to be honest with my seven loyal readers (Hi Mom!...who am I kidding, my mom doesn’t read this blog.) in hopes that by making this exception and talking about my (at times mismanaged) love life that I will somehow gain some insight into the baffling situation in which I now find myself.

After six months of secretly wondering if there could be something more, I finally took the risk and told a friend of mine how I feel about him and our friendship. It wasn’t easy-and it certainly wasn’t fun, but I was just so fed up with the mixed signals I felt he was sending and our hours-long phone conversations that never lead to anything. So when you couple all that with several hours of drinking, you have yourself the perfect storm for an explosive, alcohol-induced confession.

At this point you are all probably nodding your heads in solidarity; because really, who hasn’t let something slip after a night on the town with booze as your guide and the opposite sex (or, if you prefer the same-sex, cough, Rico Suave) as your partner in crime? But unlike discretion-malfunctions of the past, this specific confession was not uncalculated; because, despite the fact that the man in question has never asked me out or called me for anything other than directions, I believed that there was a good chance he was interested too. Besides, as blogging buddy Bruce Dierback once said, “Sometimes you have to take the chance while you can, when you can, so as to not miss out and wonder ‘what if?’ for the rest of your life.”

So Friday night, I spilled the beans.

At first, his silence and slightly defensive manner led me to the conclusion that he was probably not “digging” the “seeds” I was trying to plant in our otherwise “platonic pot” (God I love metaphors); however, when he called me the following afternoon to reveal that he was indeed a little interested, I invited him out with my friends and once again waited for him to make a move. The night went well, and I felt he was finally making an effort to give it a shot; but at the end of the evening when I said good night and asked him to call me, he kind of seemed mad at me. In fact, the look on his face was nothing less than annoyed.

So here I am, three days later and no less confused than I was on Saturday.

What was he expecting?

Frankly, I have no clue why he was annoyed; but after six months of trying to decipher his mixed messages, should I really keep trying to make sense of it? Maybe I am getting it all wrong and maybe I am just making more of a mess out of things than necessary-but I deserve more than this guessing game.