Is It Just Me?

Don't Feed The Animals, Thank You

2008-03-19T12:25:00.001-07:00

- A man asked me today if the plate of cookies we had up front in our office were real...like cookies you eat. I said "Yep, sure are. Take as many as you like." But all the while, I was wondering to myself how many fake cookies this man has come across in his lifetime. I mean, I've seen fake food displays, don't get me wrong. I've seen friends decorate their dining room tables with vases and bowls of fake fruit(which sounds tacky as hell, but if done the right way, actually looks pretty and festive), I've seen fake sandwiches at subway, so as to demonstrate what your actual sandwich will not resemble in the slightest, and at The Loop restaurant they usually have one of their dishes made and out for show so people can see what it looks like. I know that technically that last one wasn't fake food, but since you're not supposed to eat it, we'll consider it "fake". But never have I seen fake food in an office. What's the point? We're not selling food, so it's not a "preview" of what you're getting. Even in places like Doctors' offices, or Banks, when they put out bowls of candy, I never think to myself "What a lovely display of breath mints." Because, if there's some kind of food out in an office, it's for customers to eat, not just admire. Then again, I could have completely misunderstood what he meant. Maybe he was under the influence of a hallucinogen and thought they weren't real, as in not really there. Either way sir, take as many fake cookies as your little heart desires.

- Since I can't really think of anything else that has happened today that makes me wonder "Is it just me?", I thought that I would address a question I get from my friends and loved ones about some of the topics on this blog. Yes, these things really happen. No, I am not embellishing the truth. Word for crazy word, that is what went down. I guess reading this, as someone who didn't experience it personally, one would think "That could never happen. People don't do/say/ask/ things like that." But I assure you, dear readers, that people do in fact do/say/ask things like that ALL THE TIME. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I attract the crazies, or make them feel as though they can really open up and be themselves around me. Maybe it's that combined with where I work(we get some off the rockers in here). One may never know. That's why I started this blog. Because I just knew that while the things that happen to and around me sometimes(well, let's be honest, always) get on my nerves or piss me off, I cannot deny that they are all at once entertaining, enlightening, and words of indirect warning. That, and I wanted to let everyone else out there who asks that same question day in and day out know that, no, it is not just you.

Really?!

2008-03-17T08:11:00.000-07:00

- Boyfriend and I went to Tampa this weekend to do Busch Gardens and watch baseball spring training in Sarasota. I have to admit, even though I'm not a huge baseball fan, I had a lot of fun. But there were a few things that bothered me this weekend. One, the people who bring their infant children with the babies-r-us caravan to theme parks, and the asinine question that inevitably gets asked whenever I have a sunburn. Parents, I'm sure that when your baby was born, your heads were filled with visions of family vacations in the sun, laughter and cheer abounding, and memories that would last a lifetime. But let me tell you something about children ages 1 month-2 years old: They will not remember anything about where they are or what they are doing. But you want to know who will remember that trip? You. I'm pretty sure that if you and your spouse, and your double-wide buggy, and three over sized stuffed animals, stop dead in the middle of the walkway one more time when I'm trying to get my ass to the hospitality tent for a free beer, you will remember me knocking you over with the zeal of an army tank. I mean, really, why are you here? Having a child does not give you the right to take up 90% of the walking space anywhere you go. It just doesn't, I'm sorry. And stop giving me dirty looks, because I've been through the free beer line enough times to tell you exactly what I think about you not putting enough sunblock on your newborn baby, you irresponsible bastard.

- So, after Busch Gardens and a lovely night in Tampa, we headed to Sarasota on Sunday to watch the Reds and Phillies play a spring training game. Fun times! There were hot dogs, overpriced beer(which I only paid half price for...SCORE), old people who bitched about how hot it was even though they were technically in South Florida, and sweat dripping from every pore. It was awesome. It was also a cloudless, 87 degree day. Boyfriend and I look like someone spray painted us red. But alas, this is not actually what happened. So, it irritates me to no end when every person I see asks me "So, got a little sun this weekend?" Really? You have to ask that? It's not funny, so you can just wipe that smug expression off your face. I mean, OBVIOUSLY I'm sunburned. Or perhaps it's not so obvious to you. I'm sure there are lots of other things it could be. Maybe I stuck my head in the oven this weekend, thinking about ending it all, but decided at the last minute that I have too much to live for. But hey, it did leave me with this healthy glow. Maybe that's it? Or, maybe I just went a little crazy with the blush this morning. Perhaps I decided at 21 that I wanted to be proactive in my defense against the signs of aging, and so I went out and got a chemical peel(as one does), and now look like beef carpacio. Hmmm...maybe, just maybe. Or, you could just resist the urge to ask me such a stupid question, because believe me, you are not the first person to think of it. I don't know what your friends have been telling you. You're not that original.

You Glow Girl

2008-02-20T08:41:00.000-08:00

- People's narcissism never ceases to amaze me. The conversation I have most often with people that call the office goes something like this: Person:"Hi, this is Bill. One of your attorneys did some work for me a few years ago, and I was wondering if I could get a copy of my file." Me: "Bill, do you have a last name?" Person: "Smith. Do you know when I could pick that up?" Me: "How many years ago was it?" Person:" Back in 01." Me: "Well, probably by the end of the week. I'll have to pull your file and copy it." Person:" Well, I was thinking more like this afternoon." Reeeeeaallllyyyyyyy? When faced with these kinds of statements, I always have to take a moment to consider whether laughter would an inappropriate response. Unfortunately, the answer is yes. First of all, who calls their former Attorney after 7 years, or ever, and only gives their first name? Second, who calls the DAY OF and asks for work that was done that long ago? But my favorite part is the attitude I get when I don't know who they are. I feel like saying "Sir, unless your name is George Clooney, you could have come in to the office yesterday and spent 5 hours talking to me and I still would not remember you. We're your attorney, not your Mother. It's not our job to make you feel special." Am I wrong?

- I love gossip columns like a sexaholic loves porn...well, maybe not that much, but they do hold a special place in my heart. One thing that's been all the rage lately is that Angelina Jolie is believed to be preggers. And the overwhelming evidence of this is that she "that glow." Yeah, uh-hu, sure, that could be it. Or it could be that she's rolling in dough, gets the best beauty treatments money can buy, has nothing to worry about ever, and gets to bang one of the hottest men alive every single day(yeah, I said it). I mean, really, it's a toss up. Don't get me wrong, I think Angie deserves everything she has. Not only is she one of the most generous celebs out there, but really an example to humanity as a whole. Kudos to you, Angie, kudos to you. And if you want to throw some of that money my way, that's cool too.

Bagles Are Made of Bread...Right?

2008-02-20T08:38:00.000-08:00

I went to Panera this morning to get some coffee. Big mistake. While I was standing in line, I could tell that the woman in front of me looked confused. I figured that she was just trying to decide what kind of bagel she wanted, as that can be a pretty stressful decision. Oh, how wrong I was. She gets up to the register(keep in mind, there are like 10 people in line behind her), and when the clerk asks her what she wants, she says "Oh, I just don't know. I'm on the low-carb diet, so I'm not sure what I can have." I kid you not, I turned around and walked out. One, because I didn't have time to stand there while genius came to the conclusion that she could not, in fact, have ANYTHING from Panera. And two, because I just knew that I didn't have the level of self control necessary to not ask this woman why she came, of all places, to a restaurant who's sign says "A Bread Company." Really, it's a question of knowing your limits.

- I have to say that I'm really proud of recent celeb Moms like Nicole Richie for making an attempt to give their children normal names. Harlow may not be the first thing that most people would think of, but at least it's not a food. I mean, what kind of name is Apple? Whenever I hear it, I think of the scene in Anchorman when Steve Carell says "I love lamp." I think that Gwen was just sitting at home one day before she went in to labor, spotted an apple sitting on her kitchen counter(or wherever it is that celebs keep their fruit), and decided then and there that she was naming her baby Apple. At least that's the way I see it going down.

In The Event Of An Emergency, Please Contact Someone Who Cares

2008-02-06T11:17:00.000-08:00

Ok, decided on a new format. From now on, unless I'm really harping on one topic, I will be providing you with my thoughts on various things that piss me off/make me laugh/confuse me more than chemistry(and that's pretty damn hard).

- I was standing in line at the bank today, all by myself, thinking about whether or not I should switch shampoos(as one does), when all of the sudden this guy comes in and gets in line behind me. Except, instead of standing at a comfortable, and might I add NORMAL, 2-3 feet away from me, he stood like 6 inches behind me. And stayed there. I have to say, in spite of him not doing anything weird or frightening, this really bothered me. I mean, he didn't smell offensive, or try and touch me, or have an obnoxious conversation on his cell phone, he just stood there quietly waiting for his turn. But why? Why, when there was about 8 feet worth of standing room, did he choose to stand RIGHT ON TOP OF ME? These are the kinds of things that really make me concerned about the metal health of the human race.

- A customer called the office today and asked to speak to a coworker that happened to be out of the office due to the death of a family member. When I told the customer that she was unavailable for the forseeable future, the person kept on and on, asking why she was out. Finally I told her that there had been a death in the family, just to shut her up, assuming that death would be sufficient reason for one to be out of the office. Do you know what the customer says to me? She says "Really?"What do you mean "Really?" No, not really. I just thought that it would be fun to tell you that someone had died. What kind of sicko would make something like that up, and what kind of idiot says "Really?" If you don't have a better response than "Really?", just don't say anything. Just hang up. It would make more sense than questioning the validity that someone did in fact die.

- It is now safe to say that I hate couples, who insist on making Valentine's Day the most importnant day ever, more this year than last year. And this year, I'm in a couple. I'm not saying that I hate the holiday, or what it stands for, or that I don't plan on celebrating it. I'm very happy to be celebrating Valentine's with my boyfriend. I'm sure it'll be special, and sweet and full of candy and cupid vomit which is presently covering the surface of every major grocery, drug, and department store. What I hate is people who shove the holiday down your throat. I was getting a pedicure the other day, and this girl that was sitting next tome starting chatting with me, which in itself should have told me that this was going nowhere good. I'm not an unfriendly person, I just don't feel the social obligation that most people do to fill silence between myself and a stranger with idle chit chat. But anyways, so this girl starts chatting with me, I think over my ring that I had on. Girls chat about those things. And now I remember how we got on the subject of V-day. She complimented my ring and asked if my boyfriend had given it to me. I told her no, that it was family heirloom, and left it at that. Well, she took that as an opening to start asking me what my plans were, what I was getting him, if I had any idea what he might be getting me, if I bought those "cute" little candy hearts, if we had a favorite restaurant that we would be visiting...on and on it went. I just told her that I really wasn't in to all the big fancy hearts and showy stuff on Valentine's Day, that I would be perfectly content to just "do whatever" with my boyfriend, and that I didn't know what I was getting him yet and I hadn't really thought about him getting me a gift. This girl looked at me like I had just proclaimed myself the next Mussolini and was planning a coup d'etat as we spoke. She asked "Oh, bad relationship?" First, what the hell is up with the totally inappropriate responses lately?? And second, why in the name of all that is holy would you ask a complete stranger that? I turned to her(because up until this point I just kept on reading my magazine hoping she would shut up. Obviously that was about as effective as trying to see snow by moving to Brazil) and said "No, we just have a great enough relationship that we don't have to tell each other how much it means by buying each other overpriced crap." I don't think her brain computed what I had just said. She went back to trying to decide on a polish color.

Devil May Care...But Then Again, Maybe Not

2008-01-23T07:13:00.000-08:00

I can't concentrate today. I blame all the cold meds. So, we're gonna do things a little differently today.

- Heath Ledger died. I have no idea why this upsets me so much. I didn't know him personally, he wasn't one of my favorite actors, and although he never did anything scandalous, he never really did anything that made me say "Wow, what a truly amazing individual." But somehow, I am truly saddened by his passing. Maybe it's because he was only 28. Maybe it's because he had a daughter who will now never know what it really means to be Daddy's little girl. Maybe because he died the same way so many people in Hollywood do, well, so many people for that matter, which is alone...and naked. Or maybe it's because deep down, as fatalistic as it sounds, many of us expect death or disease from certain people. The people who do drugs, drink, party, sleep around, drive while under the influence, or mix illegal substances quicker than a bartender can serve you a mojito on a slow night. We're shocked when it's someone low key, someone who flies under the radar. But like they say, it's always the quiet ones you have to look out for.

- I recently learned how to play beer pong. OH. MY. GOD. I never got beer pong. I mean, really, if you want to get drunk, get drunk. Why stand around trying to land a ping pong ball in a cup of beer? Because it is so much FUN! That's why. I'm a pretty competitive person, and so is my boyfriend(which makes me even more competitive), and beer pong can get pretty intense. Especially if you're on a team. Boyfriend and I have yet to fight, we're just not fighting people. But I have a feeling that if we ever really do throw down, it's gonna be over who's fault it was that we didn't win the beer pong tournament. Seriously, some one's gonna miss the winning shot and it'll be on like donkey kong.

- I have become a very forgetful person. This kind of worries me, seeing as I'm all of 21. That's not supposed to happen for like another 40 years...right? The thing is though, it's never the important stuff like work or school, or ice cream at the grocery store. It's always stuff that, when I realize I've forgotten it, I'm not really all that upset about it. Usually it's plans that I didn't want to make in the first place, or to buy something that I didn't really need. So, the way I see it, my brain has just decided to save me from myself. It weeds out all the crap that doesn't need to be in there. And honestly, I think it's pretty cool that my brain considers picking up gum more important than lunch plans with that person who wanted to pick my brain about...hold on, I just had it.

- I would like to know why Myspace seems to be on a completely different time continuum than the rest of the world. Seriously. Have you ever sent someone a message, or written a blog, or posted a bulletin, and then gone back and looked at it later and it says that it was written/left/posted at 3:42 am when in fact the actual time was 6:30pm? This has been going on since I got on myspace 3 years ago. Is there some option to set your myspace clock that I don't know about? I know that this really should not be that big of a deal, but it bothers me. Mainly because I know people who actually stay up all night on their myspace, and I would never want anyone, not even my fake friends whom I have never met, to think that I am one of them.

- And my last thought for this post: I love that having babies is the new trend in Hollywood. Seriously, babies are the new Kabalah. Everyone is taking part. It would not surprise me one bit to find out that stars(and I use that term loosely) are designing their kids. I could totally hear one of them going ape shit on some poor geneticist over whether or not it's possible to design a child that will one day have the talent to sing, act, get a DUI by age 17, and have a cocoaine problem, all the while starring in TV series that promotes family values.

Tis The Season To Throw Down

2007-12-11T07:37:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of the season, my blog today will be dedicated solely to things that piss me off. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking "I don't have the patience or back strength to sit here for 3 days reading, so could I get the condensed version?" Yes, my friend, like a dedicated Cuban with milk, I shall now provide you with the condensed version of my favorite thing: bitching. And so, here is a list of things that really get under my skin, and because I love all of you so much, I've decided to make it the Holiday edition. Merry Chrismahannukquanzukah, and Happy Reading!!

1. People who go out shopping during the 14 days before Christmas and take their sweet ass time. This tops the list because there is nothing more nerve racking and more likely to bring out some one's homicidal tendencies than a person who insists on walking as slow as is humanly possible through a mall, department store, grocery store, or other venue of Holiday supplies. I want to know who these people think they are. Why are they aimlessly wandering the aisles of sparkling green and red crap looking like lost children about to cry for their Mothers? Why are they not at home on their computers doing their shopping online and paying the extra $2,000 to get their packages here by Christmas Eve? Because obviously they lack the crucial ability to make split second decisions like: Peppermint or Chocolate? Small or Medium? Fur or Leather? Battery operated or Plug in? If you cannot decide in a nanosecond flat how many of those bookmarks that play Christmas carols when you open the page, that people will never use again, to buy as stocking stuffer for your third cousin twice removed....get the hell out of my way because I still have socks with tassels to pick out.

2. People who use the Holidays in a vain attempt to cover up their lack of manners. There are very few people that call my office, or bump into me in the street, or steal the last Cosmo Magazine right out from under me that I don't feel the urge to ask for their Mother's phone number so that I can call the woman up and ask her just what the hell she was thinking when she told her children it was OK to act that way. People seem to be inherently rude these days. Which is fine, if they own up to being rude. Like, just admit that you have an attitude problem. But do not, after just having acted like our consultation fee is a personal attack on you, or telling me that because your file is not sitting right next to me on my desk even though you haven't been a client for 3 years that I'm being irresponsible or am somehow incompetent, wish me a Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. You don't mean it. In fact, I'm pretty sure that you mean the opposite of that. You're probably hoping that I'll get caught in an unwieldy set of lights and be strangled while carolers are outside my door humming silent night.

3. Parents who take their children Christmas shopping. Stop yelling at your children in the aisles like a pack of animals. They're children. They're genetically hardwired to like candy, stuffed animals, and anything that you can't afford. You chose to take them with you on your quest for the cheapest digital frame made. It's not their fault that you and your spouse/baby-daddy or mama can't divide household responsibilities and avoid this drama by having one parent stay home with the kids and the other go out shopping alone. Everytime I see you out there, in your hideous sweaters and birkenstocks, I'm tempted to buy whatever it is your brat wants and give it to them right then and there, just to spite you.

4. Party hosts who insist on doing gift exchange. I have no desire to fain excitement at the sight of yet another fruit cake. Nor do I wish to be expected to express delight over some hack's wayward attempt at "crafting". Forced gift exchange is bullshit. Like writing papers or studying for an exam, I am only good at buying gifts for people that I care about. It's as simple as that. The reason being that if I don't care about you then I probably have not spent the time necessary to get to know you, and therefore have no idea what the hell you want for Christmas. I also don't appreciate being put in the very awkward situation of having to pretend to like something I hate. I don't do dishonest emotions well. While my words may say "I love it", my face says "Would it be appropriate to throw up all over this needlepoint pillow?"

I'm sure there will be more, which I'll put in a blog entitled "Tis The Season To Throw Down, Part II". Until then, be safe, eat well, drink your weight in booze, and stop beating your children.

For The Love Of Gucci

2007-12-11T06:53:00.000-08:00

I'm not what you would call a fashionista. I don't make a point of putting every outfit together perfectly, matching shoes to belt to purse to earrings and so forth. I don't obsess over my shirt coordinating perfectly with my watch or my necklace complimenting my rings. I mean, for the most part, my wardrobe consists of things that go together no matter what. Black, brown, white, grey, and the occasional colorful sweater or pair of shoes to mix it up. It's not that I don't enjoy taking risks with my look, I'm just aware of what works in what situation and what does not. Which brings me to my point: I never have, and never will, understand women who feel that no matter where they are going, anything they feel like putting on is appropriate.

A good example of this is Carrie in SATC. I love that show. Really, I do. But my major issue with it is the same issue I have with these so called "free spirits of fashion." A towel is not an outfit. Neither is a man's shirt paired with a wide belt and a pair of high heels. Nor are ankle warmers and a night shirt. Adding high heels to something does not constitute getting dressed. And the thing that gets me most is when I see these women out with their friends or boyfriends. I would hope that if my friends came over to find me trying to pass off a slip, faux fur coat and pair of strappy scandals as an outfit, they would immediately call the men in the white coats because it would certainly mean that I had lost it for good and obviously needed help. Same with a boyfriend. While I don't think that couples should tell each other what to do or wear, I do think that boyfriends and girlfriends have a certain responsibility to each other to not let the other walk out of the house looking like a fool. It's just not nice. Love means occasionally having to say "Hon, you look demented."

Granted, I do live most of my life under the impression that the whole world is my bedroom. I mean, I would live in pajamas(complete with fuzzy slippers) if it was allowed. But it's not. The only places that it's OK for me to do that are in my house and at school(some of the time). When I'm at work, or going out, or doing anything in public, it's necessary to make the effort to throw on at least a pair of jeans and a top so that I don't look like I just rolled out of the bed 5 minutes before walking out the door. And I see these people out there in beach cover-ups, night shirts, or outfits fit for a stripper, and I want to walk up to them and ask "I just want to know what you were thinking when you got dressed this morning. Really, what was going through your head? Did you look in the mirror? Or just throw caution to the wind and hope for the best? And where are the cops? I believe this constitutes public indecency." And it's always in places like Target, or Wal-Mart, or Publix that I see them. Those are public places to , ya know! The rest of us are not impervious to your smell or horrible fashion choices just because the store is the size of a small country. Lingerie doesn't count either. Just because it costs more than your average pair of pants doesn't make it clothing.

But hey, I could be wrong. Maybe if I got out there in next to nothing, I'd see what all the rage is about. But with my luck, all I would end up seeing is the inside of a prison cell.

To Be On Hold For The Next 5 Hours, Press 2

2007-10-23T07:15:00.000-07:00

Automated voice prompts are the latest thorn in my side. I loathe them with a burning passion only rivaled by my hate for leopard print spandex. And it's not that I don't appreciate the phone company's/cable company's/drug store's attempt at convenience, but after five minutes of not breathing for fear that the prompter may misunderstand me and think I was asking to be put through to the bills payable/we don't speak English department, my head is about to explode and I feel dizzy from lack of oxygen. And the voice, oh the voice. I mean, I don't need to be asked for my credit card number by a robotic phone sex operator. I would be happy to give it to Joe Schmow, just as long as he doesn't sound like he's touching himself while asking me for it.

And EVERYONE has one these days. Department stores, phone companies, the city, even the local deli. It's pure laziness, and what these places don't realize is that people don't want to talk to a recording. A recording can't understand what you're saying. It says that it can, but it's lying to you. Most say they can understand over 250 responses, but what they don't tell you is that "Live person" and "This is bullshit" aren't included in those.

I was on the phone with T-Mobile the other day trying to pay my bill, and I had to listen to the automated bitch drone on for 10 minutes before she let me say anything. I don't need to hear "We appreciate your call" and "Thank you for choosing T-Mobile". I know they don't appreciate my call, or they wouldn't be making me wait. I do not have time to carry on a one sided conversation with a recording, I'm not a bored housewife with no one to talk to. I have places to go and things to do. And God forbid I call from a crowded coffee shop or the office and some one's talking in the background or I'm trying to type while on hold. If a strong wind blows through, the auto-whore thinks I told her that I wanted to go back to the main menu and then I have to start the whole process all over again. And they never give you the option upfront to talk to a live person, that's the last resort. The damn thing will hang up on you before it'll put you through to a "customer care representative." Then I get on the phone with a real person, and by that point I'm so angry that I'm screaming at them like they're deaf and swearing them black and blue for asking me the same fucking questions for the tenth time. Yes, I am aware that I can access my account online. I'm not retarded, I wasn't trying to access the Internet by calling you, obviously I wanted to talk to a live person. No, I do not want to go over my bill, I just want to pay it. Why the hell did I have to press a million keys to navigate my way to you if all you're going to do is ask me the same shit over and over and over again?

Then they have no answers for you and suggest you go online to the FAQ's section of your profile. And my question is, why the hell are they paying these people? What are they here for, to tell you that they can't help you? To give you attitude because you're interrupting their hundredth game of solitaire? C'mon Buddy, I don't like a lot of our clients either, but I don't act as though they're inconveniencing me when I have to actually do my job and help them with what they need. But the best is when they ask you to calm down, as if you're going to jump through the phone and harm them. Believe me, if it was possible, everyone in the cable industry would be in serious trouble. I know people who have broken their remotes waiting to talk to someone. I know people who have broken their TVs waiting to talk to someone.

And then there are the freaks who enjoy talking to the auto-voice. I guess those are the ones too cheap to pay for phone sex.

A Spoonful Of Sugar

2007-10-09T07:32:00.000-07:00

It's come to my attention that some people who read my blog may be offended by the content, or may read it and think I'm a bitch. Fair enough. I didn't start this blog expecting that everyone who reads it is going to love it, agree with it, or find it all that funny. It's not always meant to be funny. It's also not meant to cater to any one's taste or sense of humor. In fact, when I started writing this blog, I set myself to the task of being unPC, and for a reason: People's opinions are not censored. They are what they are. Opinions can be hurtful, they can be offensive, they can be insulting, and they can be a revelation. Our worlds are censored enough without having to worry that what we truly think of it is inappropriate because it may not be what people like to hear.

The only names I've used in my blog are those of people in the public eye. I have never used the names of anyone that I know personally, or that someone has told me about. There's a reason for this also, and that reason is that I don't think it's necessary to call anyone out. Yes, I have a boss. So does everyone else I know. I have a family, so does everyone else I know. I have ex boyfriends, and friends, and so does everyone else I know. The people I write about come from a lot of different sources. They come from bosses, families, and friends that I know, and they come from bosses, families, and friends that people around me know and have. If you read something in this blog that you think is about you, consider why that is before you ask me about it, because all I'm going to say to you is "Your name isn't on it." Everyone out there has something about themselves that's embarrassing, or that they would rather not have pointed out to them in the form of an accusatory rampage, and that includes me, but we don't live in a world where everyone likes us all the time and has only nice things to say about us. And there's only two ways to handle that. You can either choose to laugh off or ignore what you don't like or know isn't true, or you can give in to the curiosity and keep going back for more.

I don't want anyone who reads this to think that they can't throw criticism my way. I welcome it, and any writer who doesn't is doing themselves a disservice. But, criticism and hypocrisy are two different things. Before you suggest that someone lightens up on the cynicism, look in your own backyard. While I may write about people, and what bothers me about them, I would NEVER dream of saying those things to them directly or to one of their friends unless the situation called for it and I knew they would take it in good stride as I would if someone were to say the same to me. But, I know people who would not only dream of doing it, but think nothing of the consequences it has on the people around them, including their spouse. If you find someone annoying, or think they're a pill popping maniac, or believe them to be below you for whatever reason, that's fine. But do not, unless you want to alienate everyone around you, say it to them or to one of their friends thinking that it's acceptable behavior. Toddlers know better. And it does get back to the person it was being said about. That's how you lose clients, that's how you lose friends, that's how you run your reputation into the ground.

My blog is not going to change. And I make no apologies for what's in it.

Do You Need a Loofa?

2007-10-02T07:36:00.000-07:00

When Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the President of Iran, gave an interview with Mike Wallace, he spoke on a variety of topics, including the war, Iraq, our President, and his leisure activities. One topic that I found interesting, as I'm sure many people did, was the Holocaust. It was not the main topic, and really he didn't say much about it by way of length, but what he did say didn't really require explanation. You see, he believes the Holocaust to be an "over-blown fairytale."

This doesn't insult me just because I'm Jewish. Yes, that is one of the reasons, but it is not the only reason. It's insulting to me as a person, and as someone who doesn't choose to discount the suffering of others as means of validating my own ends. He mentioned that one of his favorite activities is reading books. A few suggestions:

The Internet for Dummies (Paperback) by John R. Levine (Author), Carol Baroudi (Author), Margaret Levine Young (Author)

Photographing the Holocaust: Interpretations of the Evidence By Janina Struk

In Pursuit of Justice: Examining the Evidence of the Holocaust By United States Holocaust Memorial Museum

Brainwashing: The Science of Thought Control By Kathleen Taylor

A short excerpt from the interview:

"Well, don't be hasty sir," the president said. "I'm going to get to that. I think that the Israeli government is a fabricated government."

"Fabricated" following the Holocaust, which he's said may also have been fabricated. Last December. Ahmadinejad said the Europeans had created a myth of the Holocaust. "What I did say was, if this is a reality, if this is real, where did it take place?" Ahmadinejad replied.

"In Germany," Wallace said.

"Who — who caused this in Europe?" Ahmadinejad asked.

"In Europe. If I may … so …what you're suggesting — one moment — what you're suggesting then, that Israel should be over in Germany because that's where the holocaust took place?" Wallace asked.

"I'm not saying that, mind you," the president replied. But he has said Israel could be moved to Europe, or even to the United States but it shouldn't be in Palestine.

Hmmm...OK, so Israel should now be in Germany because 70 years ago Hitler and his band of lemmings decided that Jews were polluting the "purity" of their race? Never mind that after World War I , the League of Nations approved the British Mandate for Palestine with the intent of creating a "national home for the Jewish people", or that Jews, along with Christians and Muslims, regard that area as their Holy Land(for some as far back as 3 thousand years), or that Israel as a nation has declared it's independence and fought(like every other nation in the history of the world) for the right to be where they are. No, absolutely not. Israel should be in Germany, since that's where the worst genocide, that Mahmoud claims never happened, took place. Then he takes a turn. He actually gives no reasoning for believing that Israel should be anywhere but in Palestine, it "just should be". Perhaps it was because he realized what he was saying made no sense: That Israel should be in Germany because that's where the Holocaust that never happened took place.

Maybe it's just me, but I don't think someone who has that hard a time getting their shit straight should be in charge of a house plant, let alone an entire nation.

But, since Mr. Ahmadinejad seems to be having such a hard time with the extensive research, photos, first hand accounts, diaries, records, etc. that prove the Holocaust happened, I have an idea:

Mahmoud, I would be happy to personally escort you to one of the many concentration camps still standing, and demonstrate for you not only the fascinating precision of German engineering, but the true experience of what you claim never happened. Here's how it'll go down: We're going to test the gas chambers. You go in, and I'll turn it on. You know those monstrosities still work, they were made by the same people who make Mercedes and BMW's for God's sake, and if there's anyone who appreciates a piece of fine machinery, I know it's you. If, after it turns itself off, you walk out the other side, I'll consider seeing things your way.

A Blog About Not Blogging

2007-09-28T13:40:00.000-07:00

I have not been blogging as much recently for a few reasons:

1. I just started my fall semester of my Junior year of college, so I have homework and all that good stuff going on.

2. I've been slightly preoccupied with the craziness going on at work and with the people I call my friends. I'm just kidding, I really do love my friends, some of them just happen to be really whacked out sometimes...but hey, who isn't?

3. I haven't been all that angry lately. I mean, I'm always angry or bitching about something, but I haven't really been the kind of angry that's necessary to be outrageously rude and politically incorrect, and I wouldn't dream of giving all of you anything less than that.

But this last reason brings me to my mini-blog topic. Why is it that we find anger so funny? Is it because we, as a society, are just pissed off at everyone all the time? Why are we so cynical and jaded?

Perhaps it's because we have people lying and saying things like "The Holocaust never happened".

That's the topic of my next blog, stay tuned.

Two Cartons Of Eggs and An Hour Later

2007-09-24T11:04:00.000-07:00

I realize that I am not the most forgiving or even understanding person on earth, but I really don't think it's too much to ask that we as a society respect each other's time, or lack there of. I'm well aware that thousands of us have the luxury of not having to work because either a) we married into money(yay for you...seriously), b) we are supported by the government( no yay for you), or c) our parents died young and left us enough money to buy whatever we want for as long as we want without having to wonder what it must be like to have self respect. But what I'm not getting at 11:30 am on a Tuesday when I'm standing impatiently behind Soccer Mom USA, tapping my heel VERY loudly and wondering to myself what long term effect hair bleach has on one's ability to choose the right cereal for one's family, is what the hell is going through some one's mind when they stand in the middle of the aisle with an over sized cart, blocking every one's way. I'm guessing it's something along these lines: "Should I bother moving my cart? No, I don't think so. Why is that girl staring at me? Maybe she needs to get by. She can go around. I mean, why should I move?"

The answer to that question is this: One day, the person you're blocking won't be a nice girl who plans to go to law school and therefore can't harm you, lest she be banned from the ABA after being brought up on federal assault charges. It will be some other person who has somewhere to go and things to do, unlike yourself who has absolutely nowhere to be ever, who will not hesitate to physically move you out of their way.

I just don't understand the mentality behind preventing people from doing things in a timely manner. I'm not saying that everyone doesn't have the right to be in the grocery store, or the bank, or restaurants whenever they want to be. I'm just suggesting that as a manner of courtesy, unless you're old in which case you don't really have to follow the rules anymore because you've earned that right, please don't go to any of these places during the hours that those of us who have jobs are trying to utilize their services. If you've forgotten what these hours are from lack of being useful, or never having contributed at all, here's a schedule:

Hours Off Limits to Those Whose Sole Purpose is:

Getting Hair Done, Baby Making, Shopping, "Tooling":

7am-9:30am(These are the hours when those of us with jobs are driving to work and trying to get something to eat on the way, because God knows that we wouldn't dream of putting off getting Corporate America going in the morning, lest we rob the rest of you of something to NOT do.)

11am-1:30 pm(These are the hours that those of us with jobs are trying to get some lunch. You see, because we rush to work in the morning and have to sit through what feels like Dante's Inferno driving home at night, we have no time or energy to pack nutritious meals to take with us for lunch. But, if you should feel so inclined, and you happen to be one of the inconsiderate bastards who I know will be out at my favorite restaurant tomorrow, eating at my table on my lunch hour, you are more than welcome to bring me a salad on your way to the craft store.)

4:30pm-6:30pm(These are the hours when those of us with jobs are trying to get home to our families or televisions, both of which are equally important to us. I don't know what any of you could possibly be out doing at this hour. That's all I have to say about that.)

But, if any of you should happen to find yourselves out and about during these hours because maybe you just lost track of time, fear not, there are plenty of us willing and ready to tell you exactly where you should go.

One More Thing...

2007-09-17T12:35:00.000-07:00

I just had to point out how hilariously ironic it is that there is an ad that says "Attract 'Mr. Right':10 secrets to make a man positively addicted to you for life" or some bull like that, right above my blog on how NOT to have a man addicted to you.

Ladies, listen, there is nothing wrong with a man wanting to be with you, but no one should be ADDICTED to you. They have rehab for that shit...and restraining orders.

Sally Sensitive And The Whining Muskateers

2007-09-17T11:06:00.000-07:00

OK, so I get that men like a girl who plays hard-to-get. I understand the whole chase and catching scenario, seduction, mystery, blah, blah, blah. Men, you seem to think that when a girl says no she really means yes(this has nothing to do with sex, in that case no always means no...and there's my responsibility plug), and that all she needs is convincing, and that if she would just give in and "surrender", she would be happy and realize that she really DID want to go out with you and just wasn't aware of how attractive you really are. Or, if you're dating, she just needs a little pushing to get through the times when she's sick of you or you're doing something that pisses her off, because after all, you know what's best for her. Well, here's a completely radical idea: What if women really do know what they want...and it's not more time with you?

I am not in any way condoning the behavior of women who do actually lie and say they want "this" when they really want "that". But, for the women who put it all out on the table and are still hitting the same wall over and over again, let me just say that I have no fucking clue what is wrong with men these days. And no, this is not a man-bashing post. If you know me at all, you know by now that I am an equal opportunity basher. Women do it too. Men tell them that they need space and don't want a serious relationship and that work/school/family/pottery lessons take up most of their time and they really don't have time for a commitment, but then when the women are actually faced with the reality of what that means, they flip out and say that the men led them on. But, since I am a woman, we're going to look at it from the woman's point of view. Men, feel free to tell me that I sound like a guy on this, it's nothing I haven't heard before.

I have been in 3 serious relationships. By serious, I mean that I consider these men to be my ex's and while I was with them I made a reasonable effort to be monogamous and try that thing that starts with a "c"...what is it? Oh yes, compromise. It means that on occasion, I made allowances for their needs, even when they conflicted with my own, and to a almost surprising extent, I sought their advice or opinions when I didn't have to, because hey, that's what you do when you're with someone. But anywhore, I have been in 3 relationships, and countless non-relationships(I dated the guy but never considered him my boyfriend or told him that I was his girlfriend). But no matter the nature of the relationship, I tell every man that I am seeing the same thing, and that is: I am not available 24/7. I enjoy school, and it is the most important thing in my life. I am very focused, I want to be successful and nothing is standing in my way of that. I do not play well with others, I don't like people touching my stuff unnecessarily, and that includes my body. I like my alone time, lots and lots of it. I read, I write, I listen to music and play dress up with my clothes, and I cannot concentrate or do those things if I have to worry constantly that someone else isn't getting enough attention. I don't feel the need to see the person I'm with more than twice a week...maybe three if I'm feeling super special, I have a lot of people in my life that I want to spend time with, and the amount of time I want to spend with someone is directly proportional to how long I've known them. I don't like the phone, and do not, under any circumstances, feel the need to sit and talk on it for hours on end with anyone. The only people I chat with on the phone are my Girlfriends and female members of my family, and that's because we're talking smack about everyone.

But no one ever listens. They say they're listening and that they get it, but they're obviously lying, because about a month into dating, the phone calls start. The phone calls, with the questions, and the accusations.

"Where are you?" - Out
"What are you doing?" - None of your business
"Who are you with?" - People
"Are you busy?" - Extremely
"So, what's up?" - Didn't I just say I'm busy?
"Do you want to go to dinner tonight?" - No
"Do you have plans tonight?" - If you count my couch and Tony Soprano
"Why don't you pick up when I call you?" - I don't want to
"We haven't seen each other in a week." - I knew there had to be a reason that it's been easier to breathe
"Are you mad at me?" - I will be if you ask me one more question
"Can I come over?" - No, if I wanted you in my home I would invite you over myself
"Why do you keep avoiding me?" - Because you never leave me alone
"Is something wrong?" - Yes, you don't listen when I talk to you
"Is there someone else?" - How could I have time to date someone else when you're on me 24/7?
"Why do you leave right after sex?" - Because if I wanted to talk I would call one of my Girlfriends
"Have I done something to upset you?" - I have no idea because you've kept me in a constant state of pissed off for a few days now, so I no longer know what it feels like to NOT be upset
"Are we breaking up?" - I don't care what you do, just leave me out of it

Is it too much to ask for a boyfriend that appreciates distance and autonomy instead of clinging onto someone for dear life? People don't need to be around each other that much, ever. Men, and women, need to stop lying to each other about what they expect and what they can handle. I get it if you want to be in a relationship that's like a dual life support system, but leave me out of it. I'm honest about my limitations and how much I can take and what I have time for, and I would really like one day to find a man that can not only say that he gets it, but can ACTUALLY get it.

Or, at the very least, a man who won't complain about my relationship with my TV.

Apologies

2007-09-07T12:21:00.001-07:00

So sorry for not having written anything in about forever. But a woman out to save the world never stops...actually, that's not true. I'm not out to save the world. I'm out to make a ton of money and donate some of it to charity in the process.

It's been an interesting month. As those of who who actually KNOW me are aware, my life is anything but normal or calm. It's full of drama, but hey, that's what makes me Shana. As each day goes by, I become more aware of myself and get more comfy in my skin. I am fortunate enough to already have a career picked out, thank goodness, because I have enough to stress over without THAT hanging over my head. I mean, I wear flip flops most days simply because I cannot decide on what shoes to wear, so THANK GOD I'm not having to try and decide what I want to do with the rest of my life. School is "amazing". I say "amazing" because it seems to be the word Du jour for all the bleeding heart liberals that are trying to squeeze some more knowledge into my Harry Potter and soy milk soaked brain. I heart my classes and my Professors. I'm the student that sits in the front row and raises her hand every five minutes, so if you're the ass that sits in the back and sighs your irked little sighs, please shut up. Work is...amusing. Actually, it's not amusing, it's fucked up beyond belief, but being the sick weirdo that I am, anything short of twisted and depraved would just be boring. I love my boss because just when I think the man couldn't dig himself any deeper in the hole that is his life, here comes another shovel full of dirt flying over the edge. I mean, he's been known to wear the same T-Shirt three days in a row...that just ain't right.

All that, and I'm starting a new relationship. For my views on that, see my previous blog.

Love, S

Sorry, I Have A Freak Out Scheduled For 8:30

2007-09-07T10:55:00.000-07:00

The modern woman: She's collected, smart, witty, competent, and knows what she wants. She wastes no time with "maybe's" and "could have's". She is aware of her needs and how to fulfill them. And she is a spaz when it comes to relationships.

I am a modern woman. While I may get stressed out at work or school, I am always able to come back down at the end of the day. I wouldn't dream of walking into my boss's office and announcing that I was leaving, because despite all of the bullshit that my job entails, I love it. I love my boss, I love my co-workers in a very non-loving way, and deep down I know I love the pressure and the experience. On that same note, I wouldn't stop going to school for anything, not even a million dollars. I love school, my professors, my hour-long debates with my classmates, the homework, and most of all the knowledge I gain by going. School is something I do just for me. But for the life of me, I cannot seem to make a relationship stick.

No, I have never been dumped. I am always the person doing the dumping, due to my severe neurosis about men and love. I sabotage relationships because I hate anything that is unpredictable or that doesn't follow a set formula. With school and work it's simple. Go to class, make good grades, graduate, get a job, work hard, climb the ladder, make money, make partner, make a difference. If you're strong willed and don't mind spending 100 or more hours a week at work, it's cake. It's guaranteed, it's YOURS. But with relationships, there's the other person to worry about. Their feelings, their fears, their path in life and how you can make your different paths somehow run parallel. They demand time and energy and commitment...the C word. Oh, commitment, the evil, wicked word that haunts me in my worst nightmares. Who has time for all that?

Let me just give it to you straight: I do not do commitment well, or at all really. I haven't pin pointed the exact moment that it happens, but any guy dating me is guaranteed fidelity for about the first 5 dates, and after that it's a game of "where's my girlfriend", because here's my train of thought after I am appointed some one's significant other: Why am I with this person? Is he what I want? Do I have time for this relationship? I'm too young for this kind of commitment. His voice bothers me. Is he Jewish? Why does he keep staring at me? Can I wear heels and still be shorter than him? Are we spending too much time together? Is it wrong to sleep with him if I don't plan on staying with him? Does he know I make more money than him? Would it bother him if he did? Is that the same shirt he wore the other night? What would my family think of him? What would our kids look like? Why am I thinking about having kids with him? Is this the age I should be looking for something serious? What does he plan to do with his life? Why hasn't he decided on a career yet? Is that a bad sign? Is it going to bother him that work and school come before him? What will he say when I tell him I only want to see him about every two weeks? Are his teeth naturally straight? Will he understand me having so many friends that are men? What are his views on the war? Is he a Republican? Why does he click his tongue like that when he's reading? How long before I can break up with him, and can I do it via email?

So, you see, there is a lot that goes into the freak out process. I have always thought that when I met the right man, all my bullshit would stop and I would be fine. But I'm starting to see that that theory itself is BS. So, I suppose I'll just have to find someone as crazy as me, because God knows I don't want anyone normal. What fun would that be?

Give Me Your Olives Or The Hoagie Gets It

2007-08-10T12:24:00.000-07:00

Since becoming a vegetarian - "WHAT?! YOU?!" - Yes, I'm a vegetarian now. Anywhore, since becoming a vegetarian, I've become addicted to veggie subs. Like seriously, I eat them almost everyday. But it's cool because the whole thing only has like 450 calories. SCORE!

But getting these subs has become quite a stressful experience for me. You see, I like a lot of black olives on my subs, and by a lot, I mean like 2-3 handfuls. I heart them, they make my sub, and quite frankly I get a little more than miffed when some crazy person at a well known sub establishment gives me a hard time about the number of olives I require to enjoy my sandwich. It's none of their damn business if you ask me. Which is what I'm here to bitch about today.

Toppings. At most food joints, like sub shops and southwest"grills" they have them to go on your burritos, nachos, sandwiches, what-have-you. Now, when you order food in these places, you have to "pay" for the bread or tortilla you want, your meat of choice(which in my case is none which makes me even more angry when they deny me olives, but we'll get to that later), but the "toppings" are supposed to be "free", meaning that you can get as much as you want, as opposed to having to pay more for extra meat or cheese. In actuality, you're paying for the whole damn sandwich, right down to the wax paper it's wrapped in. Those bastards don't give anything away for free. Not even the air you breathe while in their store.

What kills me about places like this:

1. Their food is supposed to be made to YOUR liking. Not John-Dead-Beat-Can't-Get-A-Better-Job's liking. Not the manager's liking. Not corporate's liking. Not even your Aunt Millie's liking. If they want to regulate the amount of lettuce you get, then they should just make the sandwich themselves and not even ask for your opinion in the first place. Obviously they know better than you do how you like your food. Why even have the glass partition there? Why not just make the food in the kitchen and bring it out when it's done? Why not just TELL people what they want? And what's with that glass partition anyways? What is this, Jail? I mean, what's the point? Are they afraid that someone is gonna jump over the counter and run off with their pickles?

2. If people wanted to be told that they shouldn't be eating something, they would go to their Mother's house. I have parents, thank you. I don't need a whole other group of people saying "You know, you really don't need that much." Was I asking you? No, I was not. I believe what I said was "I would like more jalapenos." If I get heartburn, or indigestion, or have an allergic reaction, isn't that MY business? Since when did the AHA start paying these places to put their two cents in? What business is it of theirs if you want clogged arteries or high cholesterol? Judgement is reserved for Mom and Church/Temple. It has no place in Subway.

3. The people making your food aren't paying for the things they're withholding. What does it matter to the snot nosed kid behind the counter how much damn vinegar you want? So what if you require an inordinate amount of tomatoes? What does it matter to them if you have a thing for cucumbers? I mean, if the amount of toppings you used came out of their paycheck, I could understand that. But it doesn't. Why aren't there more people out there stickin' it to the man?

Yes, I use the term stickin' it to the man. What man I'm stickin' it to exactly, I don't know. I imagine him to be tall, dark, and handsome, and to be sitting in a room with piles of money and sweet n' low, laughing maniacally about the distribution of black olives.

Saving 20 Minutes

2007-08-08T11:48:00.000-07:00

I am a total girlie girl. I love all things pink, sparkly, flowery, sweet-smelling, and chocolate. I wear high heels even though they kill my feet(except for the expensive ones which may explain my credit card debt), I put on necklaces and earrings and watches and rings, I agonize over what to wear when I know I'll be seen by people other than my Family and my boss(because, you know, spending 45 hours a week with me kinda shoes you in to fam status), and I ALWAYS wear perfume anywhere I go, because I just love hearing "You smell fantastic" from everyone...even the grocery clerk.

I think most women feel the same way about most of these things. I mean, what's the point of being a girl if you don't smell, feel, taste, and look better than men? There isn't one. But there is one of my/our daily routines that I realized this morning may not be so necessary after all. And let me say this before I go any further: I was kinda pissed when I realized that this routine of mine was not a necessity because like most women, I spend hundreds of dollars every year on these products, hours and hours of my time each month actually doing it, and precious minutes each day making sure it's perfect. My makeup. Yeah, my FREAKING makeup.

I went to the beach on Monday and got severely sunburned. Not so sunburned that I had to go to the hospital or anything, but to me, if I'm in pain, it's severe. SO, I got sunburned on my nose, forehead and shoulders. Since I do not enjoy the burning sensation I get every time I touch my face, I decided to forgo the makeup until the redness dies down. I was a little nervous because I wear makeup everyday. I wear foundation, blush, powder, mascara and chap stick(yes, it's makeup because it's pink). But what I discovered when I walked in to my office and took a glance in the mirror is that I looked exactly the same as when I do wear makeup. Not that my face is red when I wear makeup, the redness has gone away but the pain is still there. BUUTTT....about the looking the same....WTF?!?

I mean, here I am, spending at least 15 minutes every morning putting this shit on my face, and to my horror(but I suppose later glee), I look EXACTLY THE FUCKING SAME! Let me fill you in on what I go through every morning:

1. Foundation to cover any redness or blotchiness that may have sprung up due to a) a heavy night of drinking or b) a heavy night of crying or c) total lack of sleep to do work/men/a/b/ or a horrendous combination of all of the above. Or just to even out my skin tone, aka take away any color so that I can later add it back.

2. Dust my face with powder to keep said foundation from coming off, or to keep myself from being all shiny when the temp outside reaching 20,000 degrees.

3. Put on bronzer and blush to add color BACK to my face, but in a totally I-don't-wear-blush-or-bronzer-because-my-skin-is-naturally-perfectly-toned kinda way.

4. Line my eyes with liner and then apply one coat of mascara to the top lashes and one to the bottom to make my eyes look all shiny and come-hither, but not in a whorish kinda way, just a aren't-I-pretty-kinda way.

I know it's only four steps, but it takes up time that I could be sleeping, or reading a magazine, or sleeping, or watching TV, or sleeping. And I don't even need it!!! I was putting on makeup, as I suspect all women do, to look exactly the same as when we started only slightly less flawed. Well ladies, let me tell you a secret that will save you thousands of dollars and hours of time. Go get a sunburn.

And then go out and spend that money on some clothes...because no matter how red the rest of your body is, you don't look the same naked as you do clothed.

Hi, It's Kate...You Know...KATE

2007-07-24T06:25:00.000-07:00

Yeah....sooooo....I haven't blogged in a while. But I have good reason. The Sopranos. I've been sucked in like a fucking vortex..."Every time I think I'm out, they pull me back in." So, needless to say, I have been unavailable to discuss interesting and exciting things like sex, and work, sex at work, drugs, men, living, religion, living with religion...you get the idea. Plus, there's been a lot going on in the world of Shana. I won't bore you with the details...granola bars, that's all I'm gonna say.

Now, let's move on to me bitching, shall we?

I really hate when people call the office, or my cell, and just blurt out their first name expecting that I'll instantly know who they are. No "Do you remember me?" or "...from High School/ The bar/ That Kegger where I totally puked all over your dress." Nothing. If I were to have a log on my cell phone or in my head that magically provided me with a picture and an item or phrase I have used to identify the caller, I would have no problem. BUT, considering that I use whacked out ways to remember people, caller ID is not always this girl's best friend.

For example: There's this guy who comes in to our office every now and again, and he smells like this lip gloss that I used when I was five. I think it was manufactured by the same people who make Barbies as a sales ploy to suck innocent children such as my former self in. Anywhore, this guy smells exactly like this stuff. It's a weird combo of strawberries and plastic. But when he calls, he does not identify himself as plastic-strawberry-smelling-lip-gloss-guy. He calls himself Brad. How the fuck am I supposed to know who this generic bozo is? We have about ten clients named Brad, not to mention an entire slew of associates and such that go by that name. If he had identified himself as plastic-strawberry-smelling-lip-gloss-guy, I would have known instantly who he is and what he means to us. That or used his LAST NAME!!!

Which brings me to my next point. If you don't have a unique name, do not ever assume that the person on the other end of the phone knows exactly which Jennifer/Ben/Carrol/Susan/Bob/Dave/Kevin you are. They may know you as Jennifer-The-Whore-Who-Stole-My-Boyfriend, or Kevin-With-Bad-Breath, or Ben-The-Really-Great-Kisser, or Susan-That-Nice-Woman-With-Cookies. But who's to say what people identify you as. In that light, I suggest that all you folks out there with(and don't get me wrong, some of you may be exceptionally beautiful or have voices of angels) non-impression-leaving names make a habit of saying your FULL name when speaking to someone other than your Mom or best friend who's known you since you first discovered that you can put your whole fist in your mouth...and theirs. Just as a courtesy. Please.

Because if I have to pick up the phone one more time to some guy saying "Hey, it's John...", I'm going to start having a conversation with him as if I was speaking to my friend John from High School who I used to do Jager bombs with on the roof of the Baseball field locker rooms, and believe me, most of the Bible thumpers who live in this town would NOT appreciate our take on the painting of The Virgin Mary hanging in Dean Ryan's office.

Victims Of Foreclosure

2007-07-11T09:53:00.000-07:00

http://realestate.msn.com/buying/Article_busweek.aspx?cp-documentid=5084782&GT1=10233

Unlike most of my blogs whose titles are a spin on a popular catch phrase, this blog is wholly serious and not to be taken lightly. Please click on the link above and read the article.

There is no excuse for abandonment of pets. These creatures are innocent and deserve to be treated with respect and love. It breaks my heart, and makes my stomach sick, to hear that there are people out there who care so little that they leave their animals to die when their own choices lead them to foreclosure.

So please, pass the word on. Even if you just email one person the link, raising awareness is the first step to solving this problem. And if you, like the woman in this article, happen to pass by what looks like an abandoned house, take a moment and call your local pet rescue or even just the police. They will know what to do, and that phone call could be the difference between an animal living or dying.

And if you think this is funny or stupid, or that it's not worth mentioning because one person doesn't make a difference, then keep your thoughts to yourself you sick fuck. No one wants to hear from you.

Thanks all!!

Love, Shana

Are Those Your Socks On My Floor?!?

2007-07-09T13:29:00.000-07:00

Maybe it's just me, but the thought of moving in with a boyfriend makes me want to crawl under my covers and hide. I'm a play-it-safe kinda gal, practical to a fault. To my reasoning, I'm not at an age when I know who I want to spend the rest of my life with. The only man who fits that description right now is Ari Gold. Yes folks, I have a celebrity crush, and thy name is Jeremy Piven. But that's WAY off topic and could have me going for hours. He's Jewish, after all.

So, the rest of my life. I have no idea right now who that guy is, and so therefor, no idea who I will be moving in with when I decide to share my space with another human being. That's a big thing, to move in with someone that you're dating. I mean, there's a laundry lost of details to think of. How are the bills being paid? Do I want to be around this person this much? Who's bed are we using? Will we have pets? Can I live with that noise he makes when he's eating pistachios? Do our schedules match up at least some of the time? Does this person want to be around ME this much? How big is the apartment/house? WHERE IS THIS GOING? The last being the most important. Maybe using the phrase "rest of my life" was a bit dramatic. But if not for the rest of it, how much of it? If you're young and in love, how do you know when it's right?

In a world where everything is speeding up, but we're waiting longer to get married and have kids, what's the middle of the road? Should we just take a chance and leap head first in to something we know may not turn out that well, or last that long just because we THINK it's what we want right now? Are we being too cautious by over analyzing and debating and mulling it over? Have we become jaded and spoiled by our own space, our own time, our own bathrooms? Should we be more willing to make the move?

I don't think so. I can only speak from personal experience, but I'm not one to play well with others for long periods of time. Below is my list of advantages to living alone:

1. When you clean something up, it stays clean until you mess it up again.

2. When you're ready to go to bed, you just go to bed. No snoring to wake you up.

3. When you come home, it's quiet. You don't have to see anyone until you choose to.

4. You can buy as many clothes and shoes as your two closets and hallway alcove will hold.

5. You don't have to keep anything but ice cream and vodka in the fridge.

6. You can spend an entire weekend doing nothing but watching old movies and crying if it's that time of month. Sweatpants included. No one will see you.

7. You can decorate your sanctuary with as many flowers, polka dots, sparkles and pink crap as you want.

8. You can listen to your guilty pleasures(mine is Natalie Merchant) as loud as you please. You can even dance around with your hairbrush as your mic.

9. There's no one to complain of feeling that your vibrator is replacing them.

10. Everyone woman needs her space. And by space I mean bathroom.

Reasons to have a man around:

1. To carry the groceries in.

2. Unlimited sex.

3. To fix stuff.

4. To eat that strange casserole looking thing that you made.

I'm sure there are other advantages to living with a man that I am unaware of, but this is my blog and so the list stays at 4.

I'm not saying that I DON'T enjoy having a man around. I enjoy having them with me to share many of life's pleasures, such as traveling, cooking, watching the sunrise, swimming, and cuddling(although I must admit that I can only take that for about 5 minutes and then I'm done). But at the end of the day, until I find my Mr. Right To Move In With, I just want my space.

And my own bathroom.

Dressed To Impersonate

2007-07-03T10:08:00.000-07:00

I dislike traditional dating for many reasons. There's the uncomfortable silences, the guess work in who's paying for what, and the much anticipated excitement of the goodnight kiss. Sometimes people have nothing in common, sometimes it's not appropriate for the man to pick up the tab, and sometimes the chemistry just isn't there. But the thing I will never understand, or like, about dating is the complete lack of reality the situation creates. You have two people dressed up, sitting across from each other in a restaurant they probably won't go to again until their first anniversary, telling each other stories about their lives and families, all the while wondering what the other thinks of them. It's not realistic. It's not honest. It's torture.

Dating is supposed to be a chance for two people to get to know one another. So, the following are my suggestions of REAL dates that two people who are considering dating each other should go on in order to expedite the process, and cut through all the bullshit.

1. Grocery Shopping: You can tell a lot about person by looking at what they eat. You can also gauge how willing they are to cater to your cravings for things such as blue cheese and Cosmopolitan magazine. In my opinion, the first time you go shopping with your new love is a very important step in getting to know who it is that you're really with. You find out what hair products and deodorant they use, what cereal they start their day with, what kind of TP they prefer. What if you're a double roll, two ply kind of gal, and he's still stuck in the one ply, shred-your-ass-to-pieces days. Are they a vegetarian, or carnivore? When you go to their house, will you find your favorite soda in their fridge, or be stuck with soy milk and fiber cookies? Do they use creamer in their coffee? Or do they take it black? Will they be insulted if you chow down on pasta while they sit nibbling on a piece of celery? So, go shopping with them. Find out what's going in to their body. Don't forget tampons while you're there.

2. Social Security Office: Nothing tests a person's patience like the SSO. Crowds of sweaty, stinky, impatient people with screaming babies who don't speak English surround you as you and your love interest try to get to know each other. This will help you to see just how much self control they have. Do they start screaming that it's hot and they just can't take it anymore? Do they start making racist comments under their breath, or even better, out loud? Do they lose it with the person at the counter because the line wasn't moving fast enough? Watch and learn. If they start to pick fights with the other applicants, get out of there stat.

3. Laundry: This is really where it gets good. If Grocery Shopping tells you a lot about a person, then doing laundry with someone is the equivalent of giving each other barium enemas. It all starts with the underwear. Boxers, Briefs, Tighty Whities? Thongs, French Cut, Ganny panties? How clean do they keep themselves? Do their clothes reek of smoke and beer, or have huge rips and stains on them? Do they separate their whites and colors? Do they use fabric softener and dryer sheets, or do they throw caution to the wind and brave the static cling and harsh feel of washed cotton on their skin? Do they have system to keep their socks together? Do they own clothes that require dry cleaning? Do they have laundry day clothes that aren't completely hideous and embarrassing? As soon as you spot skid marks, it's time to get out of there. No good can come of that.

4. Holiday Shopping: OK, let me start by saying that if you dare to go Holiday Shopping with someone, you had better know that there's the potential to be VERY in to them, and vice versa. Whether you are picking out gifts to be wrapped in red and green, or blue and silver, all religions have one thing in common. The gifts had better be good. You do NOT want to be involved with someone who doesn't even make a rough outline of their strategy. What shops are they going to? Do they know where they're located so as to avoid having to double back? Do they plan to be up at dawn to beat the crowds? Do they have their budget written out? Do they have gift ideas, complete with back ups, listed with pictures and color coded depending on who they are going to? If not, you should ask yourself "Do I really want to be involved with someone who is this unorganized when it comes to these kinds of things?" Seriously people, I speak from experience on this one, holiday shopping will tear couples apart faster than an STD.

5. Family Brunch: It's true that when you date someone, you are dating the family as well. You need to get to know these people, and the sooner the better. I suggest a nice place on the water, or at least with an awesome view of whatever city you live in. There's a few things to check for in this situation. One, if you drink, do they drink? You need to be able to be yourself around them, and if yourself is a lush, better to get it out in the open now. If Mom doesn't have a hard drink by 11 am, this relationship may not be for you. Two, if you laugh, do they laugh? A shared sense of humor with at least one of the parents is imperative. Can you talk about the important things in life, like gossip and politics? Do they listen and nod, or is Dad rolling his eyes? Three, when you order a huge steak with your eggs, do they order the veggie platter? We're all people, and we have to learn to respect each other's differences. If you don't want meat, or they don't go anywhere near dairy, everyone has to agree to disagree. The minute someone opens their mouths about your eating habits, politely excuse yourself and don't forget to take the champagne with you.

There you have it. These dates guarantee that you don't waste anytime getting to know who someone really is. No more guessing games, no more button down shirts and high heels for no good reason. Just the truth, plain and simple.

Plus, who the hell wants to sit across the table from a stranger all night wondering whether or not you have spinach in your teeth when you can just go ahead and show them your underwear?

Is He A Member Of MENSA?

2007-06-27T10:00:00.000-07:00

Everyone has a "type". A certain kind of person that "fits the bill" so to speak. In my ongoing attempt to figure out what exactly is wrong with me, or why I have no man in my life, I came to two conclusions: 1. I haven't been looking/putting myself out there. I highly doubt that my next boyfriend is waiting for me at the bottom of that bag of chips, or in the new J. Crew catalogue, or on my computer that I'm chained to. 2. I think I might be too picky. Yeah, I know what you're thinking.

"You, Shana? Picky?!? NEVER!"

Well, let me just tell you, I don't appreciate your sarcasm. I'm being serious. What if I'm too picky about the men I date, or plan to date? My type, in case anyone wants to know, is as follows: Smart, has to be able to make me laugh, has to be able to laugh at himself, Preppy(gimme a break, I went to private school), ambitious, adventurous, well traveled, well read, and preferably Jewish. If he is not Jewish, he has to be willing to raise our children in the Jewish faith. That's just the way it goes. I would also like for him to somehow be involved in the legal profession, or if he is not, he should be able to handle having a wife/GF that is. Also, I like to shop. I'll use my own money, but the man needs to have enough of his own to buy food. What can I say, I like my shoes.

So, now that you know the kind of guy I'm looking for, let's examine the types of guys I've dated in the past. Perhaps this list will give me/us(I rely on my readers/friends to give me feedback) some insight. Here it is, my dating/personal history:

BMW Guy: Ah, the beamer guy. He was older, he was rich, and he was metro sexual. From him I learned about fashion, social graces, and how to hold my alcohol. He was nice enough, very attractive, and certainly knew how to work a room. He came from an affluent family, and needless to say, had many years and dollar signs on me. But, he bugged the shit out of me. He was jealous, possessive, and probably gay. He had serious issues with his father, and really didn't seem to like women. So, although it was fun while it lasted, the party had to end.

College Guy: College guy was what you could call and "All American Man". He was strong, good looking, went to a local University, and could out-drink all of our friends. He was an FSU devote, loved football, and was about 3 years my senior. He had red hair, and was only 2 inches taller than me. My high heels had to be put away during this relationship because, and no I am not ashamed to admit this, I didn't like being taller than my boyfriend. But it was not to last. As it turned out, he was an alcoholic(much like BMW Guy) and a huge baby. He never matured past the age of 12. So, although he gave me my first taste of the collegiate lifestyle, he just wasn't quite right.

Musician Guy: Musician Guy was so much fun. But, no job. Nuff said.

Surfer Guy: Perfect Boyfriend, for someone else. I loved to work, he loved to play. I was awake during the day, he was awake at night. I actually dated Surfer Guy twice. The first time we broke up because of problems with his "equipment", which turned out to be a side effect of his social phobia. The second time we broke up because I just had no time for a relationship, and he wanted a GF that was able to do the same things he was. Like surfing all day and drinking all night. Plus, and I know this is going to sound snobbish, he had no ambition. He quit his job while we were on our second go 'round so that he could surf more. So, although he was adorable and picture perfect, that was the last straw.

Mortgage Broker Guy: Owned his own company, good dresser, 14 years older than me. Huge ego. Weird eating habits. Horrible in bed. Liar. To this day I think he was a serial killer and I somehow got out just in time.

And these were just the "major" relationships. There were many others that were "friends" and others still that aren't even worth mentioning. The thing that gets me is that none of them, for some reason or another, ever really fit the bill. Most of them, like Surfer Guy, I knew weren't right for me. But I dated them anyway.

So, what have I/we learned? No babies, or alcoholics, or men without jobs. Yeeaaahhhhhh....THAT narrows it down.

Oh, and no serial killers. I should write that down so I don't forget.

Well Adjusted

2007-06-13T08:56:00.000-07:00

I hate surprises. They freak me out. I'm not comfortable with not being in-the-know. I get highly pissed when someone just springs something on me without the tiniest trace of warning, or hint of what's to come.

And if I hate surprises, I know there are other people out there who hate them too. But what I know most people hate more than surprises, is the "work surprise". The "work surprise" is when your boss, or higher-up, blind sides you with a new assignment, job description, or increased work load without any sort of warning. What's worse is that the work surprise usually takes place early in the morning, and in front of a LOT of people. There's less of a chance that you'll go postal on their asses and shoot up the place, or quit, if other people are around. Also, if they tell you in the morning, you then get to sit at your desk all day, while other people are walking past you, trying to absorb this load of new shit they just dumped in your lap. Co-workers breeze past, some of them stopping to full on stare at the damage, just to "check up" and see how you're handling it all.

It sucks. No one wants to be examined like a middle school science experiment. That's why offices should put up "padded rooms". Little temporary offices, with a computer and phone, where you can go to adjust to your new bullshit, I mean responsibilities without having to worry that someone is going to come by and poke you just to see if you'll react. In these rooms, you can scream, cry, throw things, even bang yourself up against the wall, without fear of being hurt or heard. It's just you and the padding, baby, just you and the padding. You could feel free to print out a picture of your boss and throw darts at it, cuss him black and blue, stick your gum to her 2D face...whatever. No one will be able to look at you, or talk to you. No worries, no bother, no embarrassment.

Because, even if they think they know how crazy you are, no one needs to see how deep it goes.

Cheeseburgers And Cocaine

2007-06-08T06:39:00.000-07:00

I am an American. I believe in a free economy, traditional family values, cheeseburgers and milkshakes, and John Wayne. I enjoy football games, the Superbowl half time show, and being able to draw up a lawsuit against anyone at any time...for any reason. I love this country.

What I don't love is the completely illogical and asinine worship of cocaine snorting, commando going, Scientology following, pseudo intellectual, fake Jews we call "Starlets". These girls are not stars. In fact, they're the opposite of what stars should be. They are not beautiful, they are not graceful, and they certainly can't act. They can lose weight, make money, and embarrass their parents and America as a whole for setting an example of what we as a nation have come to value as "talent" and "entertainment". Long gone are the days of Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly, and Natalie Wood. I'm sure Vivian Leigh wouldn't be spending her time doing a second stint in rehab, just after collapsing from alcohol poisoning. Marylin Monroe never looked like a skeleton and called it chic. These real women of Hollywood, or what Hollywood once was, would never have thought to make fools of themselves for the sake of publicity. They didn't need to flash the camera or make a scene while drinking under age to get in the papers or on the silver screen. Their natural ability to hold some one's attention, a nation's attention, came from who they were and what they could really do. Not from sleeping with their best friend's boyfriend or almost dropping their baby on the sidewalks of New York.

What's worse than these people making money off of their antics, is that we are to blame. We buy into all of their shit and go to see their crappy movies. We laugh as they jump up and down on couches or tattoo their bodies while practicing Kabalah. We feel bad for them if they lose their husband to some tramp who was just looking for a New Years Eve hook-up. We enable them to continue on in their debauchery. We need to STOP! This is not entertainment. It's life, and it's real, and it's sad.

And it's fucking annoying when some nice Jewish doctor is out there putting YOUR six carat ring on the bony finger of a crack whore, I mean actress.

Lord, Help Me Help Myself

2007-06-01T13:39:00.000-07:00

Not the usual blog today. I'm going to be gone for the weekend, and won't be writing again until Monday. But, oh the DRAMA! Ex boyfriends, ex lovers, family members being drug up from the depths of my own personal hell...AKA Canada. AAGGHHHH!!

I need a break. I'm house sitting this weekend. I'm NOT moving off the couch.

See ya' Monday! I'll fill everyone in then on what's goin' on...promise :-)

Let's Give Them Sex To Talk About

2007-05-30T09:46:00.000-07:00

Sex. Yours. Your friends'. Your exes'. Yours and your ex's. Yours and your friends' exes'. Your ex's and your friend's...and their friends'...with their friends' exes. Confused? So was I, at about 8 o'clock last night when my friend informed me that a fling of mine was the topic of conversation recently among a group of, you guessed it, my friends. I'm used to being the topic of conversation. I'm just one of those people that other people talk about. Not because I happen to be any more interesting, attractive, or intelligent than the rest of the people I associate with. I don't know why it is, but then again, I could say the same thing about Brit Brit. Everyone saw that train wreck coming, but MY GAWD, the girl has taken it a step in satin too far. So, to say that one is used to being the topic of conversation does not necessarily imply that one is the topic of flattering conversation. And really, when the conversation turns to your sex life, anything is possible, depending on who's doing the talking.

I talk about sex. You talk about sex. Everyone and their Mother talks about sex. How it feels, how often they're having it, who they're having it with, who you're having it with, etc. But last night I realized for the first time that I was not completely comfortable with my friends talking about MY sex life. Not because the conversation was bad, and not because of the people who were having it. But because I just couldn't imagine that there would be an occasion in which it would be a relevant topic of discussion. Plus, it just plain creeps me out. You hear that your friends, one who has slept with you in particular, are talking about you in a sexual way and all of the sudden, it all comes flooding back.

Think about the way that you discuss sex, especially when it comes to other people. Think about the details. Tastes, skin, bodies, hair, smells, skill, positions, locations, underwear and panties of choice, balls...you get the idea. It all comes out at some point. It seems to be the consensus among my males friends that as a whole, men tend to wait until they have broken up with a girl to divulge all the gory details to their comrades. Women, however, spill the beans as soon as they can get to a phone. Now think about a group of people you know talking about you in that way.

I KNOW! It's unsettling, isn't it? Even if you know that you rocked some one's socks, there's still the slight feeling of uneasiness knowing that it's out there. But then again, you know those things about them too. I know details of my friends' sex lives that would turn your hair white. And does it change how I feel about them? No. Does it make me view them as different people? Maybe. Examples: I know that my friend Alexandra goes Brazilian. I know that Alex likes his hair pulled. I'm aware of the exact spot on Walter's ear that sends him into orbit when licked. I know that Rachel turns around whenever she's trying to imagine sleeping with someone else. Have I slept with all of these people? No, I have not. But I know these things about them just the same as someone who has. Because they talk about it. Their lovers talk about it. EVERYONE talks about it.

So, what's a girl to do? Two choices seem to pop out at me. Either a) stop having sex with anyone who has even the smallest chance of knowing your friends, or you. b) stop having sex.

Well, considering that I'm lazy and don't have the time or energy to be out there finding new sexual partners, the people I know are just going to have to do.

I guess I should pull out the good lingerie. After all, I DO NOT want to be known as the girl who wears boring undergarments.

Crib Or Corner Office?

2007-05-24T10:54:00.000-07:00

I was having an interesting conversation this afternoon with the new Summer Clerk about work and family. I asked what his views were on the balance of having a family and having a career. His response was "Kids suck the life out of you. I would rather have a career than a family". Needless to say, I was a bit stunned at the frankness of that statement. But it gave me some food for thought, a new feed for a conversation I've been having with myself for quite some time now. It raises the question that not only women, but all professionals must ask themselves inevitably, which is: Do I really want children?

I'm not the most maternal person, nor am I completely adverse to the idea of hearing the pitter patter of little feet. But if there's one thing that I am, it's driven. I have never found myself questioning my goals as far as work go. Law. The only answer that exists in my universe. Everything else is subject to change, to editing, to last minute rescheduling. I'm not going to lie and say that I know that I want to get married and have kids, because I don't. Both of those are a lifelong commitment, and frankly, there's too much potential for something to go horribly awry. With work, it comes down to one person, you. Yes, you have to work in a team with your coworkers and such, but there is an end goal, there is structure, there is law. Law is definite, it's solid, it's reliable. Either you're right or wrong, you win or lose. You take the case, give it your all, and hope like hell that you're better than the other side. If you fail, if you make a mistake, it has the potential to put a dent in your career. There's a chance that you will not get that raise, or promotion. Hell, there's even the chance that you will get fired. But there are other jobs, and other positions, and there's always another case, another chance to prove yourself. When you're married, or worse have kids, you're not only playing with your life and heart, but with those of other people. There is the potential to do serious damage that a brilliant memo or argument simply will not repair. You cannot go and apply for another husband or child. You can't pay off emotional damage.

And the time. You get 24 hours in a day, that's it. There are no extensions. Careers, especially the kind of careers that produce Super Lawyers, Neurosurgeons, Nuclear Physicists and the like, take time. Correction, they take everything. They take your hours, your effort, your focus, your dedication, your soul. They take all of you to make them work. So do kids. So do marriages.

Now, let me just say, I am not a wife, and I am not a Mother. So my opinion is simply that, an opinion. But it is an opinion based on years of observation, careful listening, and common sense. It is the opinion of a woman who has been told on numerous occasions that she would make a great wife and mother, but who has also been told quite often that she is not one for putting her personal life before work. That's because, to me, my life is my work. I'm not talking about my current job, I'm talking about my future career. The one I have wanted since before I can remember, the one I have dreamed about every since the first time I set foot in a law firm and knew, instantly, that that is what I wanted.

I was once asked what I like so much about Synagogue. My answer was simple. It feels like home. It is where my heart is. When I am in Temple, I belong, I am where I was meant to be, I am at peace and all is right with the world. It's the same when I'm at work or in the vicinity of my future. I research case law and Attorney's, law firms and areas of practice. I look up precedents, landmark cases, and Lawyers who's careers are not only admirable, but the American Dream. They have made a life out of practicing. They have turned it into an art form. I stand in awe of their accomplishments, they are what I dream of being.

I cannot say with absolute certainty that I will never get married or have children. I cannot say with absolute certainty that I will one day be the kind of Attorney that young professionals research for inspiration.

All I can do is what feels right. And ignore those damned female hormones that, when I look at that picture, make me go...aaaaawwwwwwwww.

Temporary Insanity

2007-05-18T09:43:00.000-07:00

I love almost everything about being a woman. I love my curvy body, my beautiful long hair, my feminine voice, my ability to have children(I think). Men let me go ahead of them in line. Store clerks are more likely to give me discounts. And it's proven that attractive women are twice as likely to get a raise as their less attractive counterparts.

But one thing that I will never, ever get used to or grow to love is PMS. It is the bane of my existence. I consider myself a generally happy person. I'm optimistic, I'm go-with-the-flow. But there's always one week a month when I turn into a raging, crying, irrational, emotional, strung out squishy ball of feelings...that devours chocolate like it's oxygen. I cry at the drop of a hat. I need extra cuddles from my beloved and somewhat overweight kitten, Girlie. I need candy bars, M&M's, chocolate popcorn. I hate everyone and everything. The tiniest inconvenience will send me into a rage. It could be as simple as my hair not looking like the right shade of brown. Oh, and the bloating. I'm a size 8. I like my size, not too big, not too small. If I got any smaller, my boobs would just up and leave me, never to be seen or heard from again. But during that one week, I feel like a beached whale. Nothing fits right, my face looks like a water balloon, and don't even get me started on my ankles. Suffice to say that I DO NOT wear shorts that week.

The thing about PMS, is that we know it's coming. By we I mean women. We know when our periods are, and we know that the week before we turn into creatures from the deep. So, it kills me to see women walking around with obvious signs of PMS, telling people that they have no idea why they're acting this way. Or worse even, walking around shrieking at anyone who dares to suggest that their behavior is due to hormone overload. Have you seen these delusional freaks? They strut around, fudge smeared all over their mouths, bitching people out, crying like their dog just died, all the while claiming that it's just been "one of those days." WHATEVER! Woman, you have PMS, deal with it. Stop acting like people are accusing you of being a heroine addict.

So, here I am. Admitting to my temporary insanity. Now, who the fuck stole my damn Hershey's Bar?!?

Would You Like Fries With That?

2007-05-16T12:09:00.000-07:00

When you wake up in the morning, is there a Fast Food rep sitting at your kitchen table, steaming bag of fat in hand?

When you go out for lunch with a friend, is the big red-haired clown himself standing beside you, ordering your lunch and shoving the artery blocking yumminess down your throat?

When you arrive home, do you find teams of marketing associates crowding your kitchen, dreaming up new ways to deep fry everything from pickles to cheesecake?

If you do, I suggest you lay off the LSD. It's not good for you, I don't care how pretty the colors are. But I'm guessing the answer is "No." To a certain degree, what we eat is up to one person, and one person alone. You. You decide when and what you eat. I know that unhealthy food is cheap and quick. I know that cooking is a pain in the ass. Believe me, I am well aware that cheese is by far the most delicious thing put on this earth. I would bathe in it if given the option. But that doesn't excuse the total lack of responsibility that most Americans are taking for their health. By now, I know that everyone has heard of the outlandish and absurd claims against a certain fast food chain, who is being sued for "making people fat". Let me just tell you now, this is the biggest bunch of horse poo I've ever heard IN MY LIFE! It's like a stoner suing his dealer for getting him high. Or a housewife suing her hairdresser for making her blond. There's just no case.

To these people, I'm sorry, LARD ASSES who are filing the claims, I ask you:

1. Did someone from the FFJ(Fast Food Joint) come up to you on the street, drag you into a dark alley, and threaten your life unless you agreed to eat their food three meals a day?All the while, shoving grease soaked fried down your throat?

2. Is the FFJ the only source of food in your town? Has your city boycotted grocery stores? Has the Mayor done away with produce, citing an irrational need to be healthy as the reason for the Fruit Holocaust?

3. Did you have some traumatic experience with health as a child? Did the ability to run, breathe normally, or fit into clothing that isn't made of Lycra or spandex scar you for life? Is the mere sound of an apple crunching or granola bar being chewed enough to send you over the edge?

Seriously. Do you see people doing their weekly shopping at MacDonald's? Is the yearly school health fair held at Burger King? Is Wendy's the answer to your veggie needs? NO! These places serve one kind of food. Fast food. It is not healthy. It is red meat, cheese, bread, fried potatoes, grease, more cheese, fat, cholesterol, calories galore. They are not your source for daily nutrition. Fast food should be eaten maybe once or twice a month, if that. The average diet should have 1,800 calories for women, 2,200 for men. Do you know how many calories are in a large order of fries alone? Upwards of 500. That's a little less than a third of your daily limit. We are not bears hibernating for the winter. We do not need to be eating all that we can eat, stuffing ourselves to the point of puking. There's always tomorrow and another meal. Fast Food will always be there. I understand cravings and munchies as well as the next person, but that is not an excuse for being a hog and then blaming someone else.

If you're going to be fat and unhealthy, at least own up to it. Don't blame other people for your lack of self control. Really, not only is it sad to watch you in court, in your stretch pants, it's just downright infuriating to those of us who actually take care of ourselves.

I was overweight in High School. I loved junk food. I still do. I would eat cheese fries, chocolate cake, and burgers everyday if I could. I would drink ranch dressing if they gave me a straw. But I don't. Not because it's not available to me, but because IT'S NOT GOOD FOR ME.

I do, however, have this vodka that seems to be making me drunk. Think I have a case?

Sick And Tired

2007-05-14T06:22:00.000-07:00

There aren't many occasions in which it's appropriate for a co-worker to give you something. Your boss gives you a bonus at Christmas. Your friends might give you small tokens for your Birthday. Heck, you might even get a cake.

So why the hell do I have a cold? I didn't ask for it. It's not going to buy me a new outfit, it's not pink, and it doesn't have an ice cream center. But I have one, and since all of my friends are well, there's only one logical source of this hacking, sneezing, snot dripping, sore throat illness that has befallen me. WORK!

No, not my actual job. As much as I would like to be able to claim that work itself is a hazard to my health, it's the people I work with that are to blame. And you wanna know something, for as much time as these lazy fuckers take off, they always seem to be here when the flu fairy pays them a visit. They come in with 102 fevers, no voice to be heard, sweating like they ran a marathon, and all the while claiming " I'm Fine."

NO! You're not. You're standing three feet away from me and I can smell your sick breath from here. I can feel the germs floating through the air and making their way into my body as we speak. You have no voice, your eyes are as shiny as a new Cadillac, and you seem to be suffering from some serious delusions. Put the chair down, there are no little green elves biting at your feet. And for God's sake, stop touching my shit!!

I am so sick(HAHA) of coming around the corner to see you sitting at my desk, snot dripping from your fingers, typing away on my keyboard and hacking into my phone. DUDE, put my mouse down! Why can't you stay in your cubbie and marinate in your own illness? Why do you insist on bringing your infected ass to work at all? That's what suck time is for. Oh wait, that's right, you only take time off when you're "sick", otherwise known as hungover.

Well, I'm not putting up with this anymore. I'm infecting everyone. When you're gone to lunch, I will be wiping snot all over your doorknob. I will be coughing up some nasty green mucus for your keyboard. And your mouse? You'll just have to wait to see what's going on there. Because I'm tired of not feeling well at work. See, I'm what we call normal. I don't like the feeling of the flu, or a cold, or an infection. I'm not chomping at the bit to feel as though I can't breath, and might need to be rushed to the emergency room at any second. I don't really consider that living on the edge. I consider that bullshit.

So, if you're sick at work, please do not go near your co-workers. Unless you have cake. People will do anything for cake.

8 Hours A Day

2007-05-09T11:38:00.000-07:00

You know, it always amazed me how long it can take people in Corporate America to do anything. Not anymore. Being a new member of the nation's workforce, I am acutely aware of what it is that's holding us back as not only a money-making powerhouse, but as individuals.

Our ability to do anything and everything, except our jobs. Yes, that's right. We as a nation have the habit of liking to do everything except what it is that we are actually paid to do. We hem and haw, we put things off, we procrastinate like it's going out of style. Never in my life have I seen so many people doing so much, and yet getting nothing accomplished. Over the past year, I have compiled a mental log of all things that one can do while at the office to avoid doing any actual work. I will share it with you now.

1. Check your horoscope. Repeatedly. You know those crazy astrologers and their tendency to change their minds in the middle of the day. You're actually not supposed to have a good hair day...and no, that certain someone will not be asking you out tonight.

2. Paint your nails. Or toenails, or brush your hair and teeth. The goal here is basically to perform all hygiene activities that would normally be conducted at home. But let's get real. You don't have time for these types of things when you're home.

3.Chat with an Associate or Client. But not about topics directly related to work. Permissible topics include lunch, movies, that weird green fungus growing in the downstairs bathroom, your boss, your client's new hardwood floors, soda machine options, etc. You get the idea. And when I say chat, I don't mean five minute discussions. I mean hour long debates. Use diagrams if necessary.

4.Call your friends...in Fiji. Nothing says dedication like long distance calls on the company dime. Mon-Fri 8-5 is the perfect time to call friends and family who you've been meaning to get in touch with, but have been prevented from doing so because of those pesky long distance charges. Well, not anymore. You now have eight hours a day and millions of dollars at your disposal with which to make those calls.

5.Go to the bathroom. Eat some wicked spicy Indian last night for dinner? Well, now is the perfect time to go relieve yourself in the bathroom. Don't worry about getting bored, take a magazine with you. Who knows, you might get so caught up in that article about how to wash your delicate's with a toothbrush that hours fly by without you realizing.

6.Work on your Myspace profile. OH MAN! Now we're getting to the good stuff. Nothing takes up more time than uploading your pics from that party this weekend, downloading that cool new song you heard in the car this morning, or leaving comments for that slutty girl that your friend was with last night. Create a new background. Take a survey. Make a slide show. The possibilities are endless.

7.Make checklists. I know this is gonna sound wacky, but hear me out. Yeah, you know how to do your job. But does everyone else? No, they do not. Well, my friend, you are about to be the genius who provides the tools. Make a checklist for everything that you do. EVERYTHING. Orders, phone calls, mail, wiping your ass...you know, whatever pops into your head.

8.Read emails. No, not yours, everyone Else's. Your boss's, your coworkers', your boss's wife's...whatever. You'd be surprised at the amount of personal info that's in those puppies. Secret affairs, social security numbers, not to mention all the smack talk you can handle. Email snarfing is an amazingly efficient way to not only pass the time, but find out everything you never wanted to know about the people you work with.

9.Eat. Non-stop. All day long. If you're lucky, you work in one of those offices that stocks the company kitchen with food. If not, bring your own. There should be at least three time as much food in your desk as there are items related to work. No one can stop you from eating. And unless they want the computer, keyboard, and mouse smelling of fries and ranch dressing, they best let you finish.

10.Write a blog. About anything and everything. Work, life, men, sex, music, miscellaneous stuff that inspires you. Don't be afraid to really express yourself. This is your blog after all. You'll be thanking yourself three years from now when you parlay that witty pile of genius into a book deal.

So there you go. Get out there and put things off. But whatever you do, do not under any circumstances pick up that phone to call your clients, answer that email, or do anything even resembling work.

That would be such an unfortunate waste of time.

Crash And Burn

2007-05-09T08:50:00.000-07:00

If you know anything about what's going on in North East Florida right now, you know that there has been a terrible lack of rain in addition to the plumes of smoke rolling across our borders from Georgia and nearly choking the sunshine state to death.

But luckily for us, we got rain today. And what does everyone do? Get out on the roadways in the wetness like it's a fucking slip and slide.

I don't know what it is about rain that makes people want to drive like they're 16 and just got their license. They go at least 10 miles over the speed limit, forget how to use their turn signals, and apparently lose the ability to read road signs like "STOP" and "ROAD WORK AHEAD". Then the jackasses go and get in an accident or twelve, and wonder why. What the hell is up with the need to act like irresponsible teenagers?

I mean really, is it all about pushing the envelope? Seeing how much you can get away with? Because let me tell you, there are safer and much more productive ways to shake things up.

1. Instead of hitting that gas pedal like you're the next Jeff Gordon(Is he Nascar?), why don't you try running through the grocery store aisles with your heels on that bar on your grocery cart? Same effect, but instead of hitting that minivan in front of you and injuring innocent children, you'll probably just knock over the Kellogg's display.

2. Since holding your cell phone with one hand while you try and change Junior's diaper with the other, all the while steering the car with your knees probably isn't the best idea, why don't you try the same activities in Wal-Mart. Grab snot nose and the cell, and head to the toy department. Squeeze your fat ass into one of those Barbi Jeeps and have at it. The only person you'll hurt is yourself when the mini-mobile flips in aisle five.

3. You don't need that triple cheese lovers burger. But you especially don't need to be eating it while driving 75 miles an hour down the highway. So, instead, take your lunch to the local arcade and hop into the simulated race car. Instead of bits and pieces of you being flung all over the side of the road, the only thing flying will be vomit out of your mouth when the rocking and jerking of the "car" get to you. Motion sickness is a bitch.

So, I'm BEGGING you. If you cannot limit your activities in the car to actually driving the damn thing, GET OFF THE ROAD!! Stop talking on your cell phone, or get a headset. No one cares that much about what you have to say anyways. Stop looking at your kids. If they won't stay in their seats, duct tape them, it worked for my parents. Stop eating while you drive. If you have that little time to eat, congratulations. You've developed anorexia without having to try. And for the sake of all that is sane(not a whole hell of a lot), STOP SPEEDING! It's raining outside, that's what all that water is. It makes the roads slippery. It will cause an accident. And if it's my car you hit, I will ram your ass over the bridge and tell the cops you just "teetered" over the edge.

Now move over. I've got an appointment to get to and you fools are in my way.

Birds And The Bees

2007-05-08T10:24:00.000-07:00

Spring is here, and you know what that means. The days are long and hot, school is out, and everyone is starting to get that old familiar feeling. The urge to get out there and make some love. But if you're a single, straight girl who doesn't want to sacrifice her freedom or sanity for the sake of having a boyfriend, what are you to do?

Well, my dears, it's called casual sex...and it's not for the faint of heart. There's been an astounding number of studies done on this in the past few years, and they all pretty much say the same thing. They say that not only is it damaging to our egos and self-esteem, but also just a bad idea. Studies show that women have a hard time separating sex and love, and often are left feeling empty and used after casual sex.

To these studies, I say kiss my grits. Casual sex is not about separating love and sex, it's about the person you choose to have it with. Should you choose to have casual sex with the guy you've been crushing on ever since Junior High who you just know you're meant to be with despite the fact that he's now engaged and living in Texas? No. There is a certain formula to the perfect casual sex, and luckily for you, I'm about to share. And no, this does not make me a big whore who went out and researched "casual sex" for the sake of writing this blog. It makes me a woman with common sense who knows that just because you wanna get laid does not mean that you want to have to hear the question all women who just had amazing non-committal sex dread hearing... "So, you wanna go to dinner with me sometime?"

CASUAL SEX 101:

1. Don't Shit Where You Eat: Or, why you shouldn't sleep with a friend.

This should seem pretty obvious, but DO NOT under any circumstances sleep with a friend, a friend's boyfriend, or a friend's ex-boyfriend. First of all, if you're friends, there's a good reason for it. You enjoy each other's company, and they've probably seen you puke your guts out on more than one occasion. You talk to each other about your sex lives, and all the losers who you've kicked out at 3 am, citing that "you don't have to go home but you can't stay here". They know how you operate, and all the smack you talk about your conquests. They also know that you will most likely be saying the same things about them if things go wrong. But most of all, with friends there's always the potential for feelings to develop...eeewwwww. We're trying to avoid this at all costs. If you wanted to know how to make someone fall in love with you, you'd be reading a blog by Dr. Phil or Miss Cleo. So, just don't do it. You're gonna need someone to dish to about that weirdo who just vacated your bedroom when this is all over.

2. Don't Be A Masochist: Or, why you shouldn't sleep with someone you actually "like like".

DUH! If you like them before you sleep with them, you're only gonna like them even more afterwards. This is a blog about casual sex, not how to manipulate someone into a relationship. That's next month's issue. Everyone you have a crush on, or stalk on a regular basis, is off limits. All sleeping with them will lead to is heartache. You will awake the next morning to find them gathering your clothes and stacking them in the hall for easy access. There will be no English muffins or strolls in the park in your future. Sleeping with a crush will only buy you a one way ticket to delusionville, population: you. So, just don't do it.

3. Listen To The Whores: Or, why your friends know what they're talking about.

If your social scene is anything like mine, most people in your little click have slept with each other. My group of friends is so incestuous, I'd swear we live in West Virginia. So, it stands to reason that if they tell you that someone is bad in bed, or has a small dick/ smelly Va-jay-jay, or has as many STD's as an Argentinian whore, they're right. I know that by now you've developed a filter to block out most info coming from these people, but they are your friends, so try listening to them for once. They speak from experience, they've been there and are hear to tell you that unless you plan on wrapping your body in latex, it's not a good idea. So, just don't do it.

That's pretty much it. If you follow those simple guidelines, you should be on your way to some good old-fashioned I-never-want-to-see-you-again sex in no time. Just remember to be safe, carry condoms, and never go to dinner with someone just because you had sex with them. Really, you don't want to date someone who's that slutty.

If You Would Like To Hear The Menu Options Again...

2007-05-04T10:09:00.000-07:00

There are many things in life that frustrate me. Random road blocks, people who don't know what they want by the time they get to the counter at any given fast food joint, CD packaging. But nothing, and I mean NOTHING, gets my blood boiling faster than automated voice responses on debt collection lines.

First off, you can't get a live person on the line. EVER. They give you the option to do everything except speak with a beating heart. They'll direct you to the option of having your colon sucked out by Pirana before they'll let you speak to one of their closely guarded "representatives".

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING MATERIAL MAY CONTAIN RACIAL OR ETHNIC SLURS. IF THIS OFFENDS YOU IN ANY WAY, PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER.

But, should you actually get one of these desert wandering guardians of all your info on the phone, that's when the real fun begins. First, they won't ever be from America. Not one of them. They also won't ever have a name that you can readily recognize or spell. This is in case you need to call back to reference something that one of them told you. If you can't identify them, that call never took place. Apparently, there are more Rijhbanisshis working in debt collection than one might imagine. Second, they're going to treat you like a criminal. Not just any kind of criminal, but the kind on death row. You have disturbed their solitaire game and so now you have to pay. They'll speak to you in mono-syllabic sentences, and ask you questions that you obviously would not have the answer to unless you suddenly developed telepathy while waiting for their non-English speaking asses to answer their phone, just to make you feel like an idiot. And don't dare ask them to repeat themselves, because all that does is cause them to lose their ability to speak anything other than in tongues and scream at you.

But the thing that gets me is the only reason you would be calling these Mata Hari like whores in the first place is TO GIVE THEM MONEY!

How dare you. I mean really. What's wrong with you? Didn't your Mother teach you any manners at all? Everyone knows that all these people are required to do is stay alive long enough to make it over on the plane that they're praying cousin Alexhjandrioni isn't hijacking, and sit in a cubicle all day, collecting a pay check so that they can pay to take up valuable space in a country full of inconsiderate assholes who just want to pay their fucking credit cards bills.

So, stop wasting their time and press 3 for your enema.

Peer Pressure My Big Behind

2007-05-03T06:27:00.000-07:00

I love food. I'll admit it. I'm a fiend for it. I like sweets, salty snacks, and basically everything in between. My Grandmothers can attest to my ability to clean out a fridge and cupboard in one weekend. Really, it's a talent. So, when someone offers me food and I refuse it, I REALLY don't want it.

But people will push it on you, and I hate that. Don't you think that someone knows when they want something and when they don't? Aren't most people aware of when they're hungry or feel like having a little nosh? Yes, they are.

But there's always that person. The one person at a party, or cookout, or office luncheon who just insists on making you feel like the biggest douche bag in the room for not trying one of their Aunt Lil's Double Fudge Heart Attack In A Square Brownies, or Macaroni Surprise, or Tuna Loaf. They push it on you like a bully pushes cigarettes on your 10 year old son. They keep asking:

"Are you sure you don't want one?"

"Just one bite, c'mon, you don't have room for one bite?"

"Everyone has room for just a little more. It's reeeeeeeeeeeeeeally good!"

YES! I am sure that I do not want one. I have enough room left to clear that entire plate of Mac and Cheese plus the cookie tray that Sally brought in, but that does not in any way mean that I want to try that brownie. And really, I think you're a liar. I think your brownies suck, because the rest of the people in this room are circling them like they wouldn't touch em' with a ten foot pole. You can't make me eat it! And frankly, your overwhelming need for me to try one is scaring me. What's in those brownies that you just can't wait for me to ingest? Weed, poison, crack?!? WTF man?

And then they get all insulted. They're genuinely offended that you didn't want their food. They'll try and make you feel bad for it, like you're sending them a message that it's not the suspicious mold growing on the bottom rim of the "jell-o" mold, but them that you really don't like. Well, you know what I say to these types:

"Yes, you're right, it is you that I don't like. You know why? Because you're fucked up. You're getting your panties in bunch over a square of cocoa, and acting like I just killed your dog because I won't try that science experiment you call a casserole. I would have tried the damn brownie if you had just left me the hell alone!"

So, if you're one of those people, STOP! If you offer someone food, and they want it, they'll eat it. And if they don't, for what ever reason, just drop it.

Unless you really are trying to poison someone, in which case I totally support your decision to shove it down their throat...literally.

Super Absorbency

2007-05-01T12:11:00.000-07:00

You know how some people have those faces? The face that always looks familiar. I have one of those. People are always coming up to me asking me where they met me, how we know each other, did we go to school together? Yes, I find this annoying. I don't know half the folks that ask me that. The other half I just pretend not to recognize.

But you know what I don't have?

A face that says "I'm Your Emotional Tampon"

People are often fooled into thinking that I care. They think the big eyes and slight upturn of my lips indicate a genuine interest in what they're saying. Yeaaahhhhh...not so much. It's not that I don't care about people. I do. I care about my friends, and family, and one of my coworkers. But the general population's feelings on various topics such as global warming and the suspicious chili from the hot dog vendor on the corner don't really top my list of things to worry about. I don't have hours to spend discussing my boss's wife's new diet and her decision to eat whole wheat even though it's not included on the list of approved food items. I do not enjoy being caught in a lengthy description of old people sex by the crazy clients that come in my office. And I LOATHE having to listen to long ass stories being told by random strangers who see me on the street and think to themselves "Oh, there's a nice looking girl. Maybe she'll listen to me."

Do I have a sign around my neck that says "Free Therapy?"

Do I look like the type of person who gives out free legal advice even though she's obviously too young to have gone to law school?

Do I seem like the kind of girl who goes to coffee shops and bookstores to pick up men?

NO!!! I do not. I don't wear signs around my neck as part of my religion. I practice not looking like a billboard, services are held Wednesdays and Fridays at 7 pm. I'm 20 years old, and as far as I know, the Supreme Court is not in the practice of forgoing the bar exam(let alone law school) simply because you work in a law firm. I don't do my hair and I don't put on makeup before leaving the house unless I plan to be around someone that I'm already attracted to, so chances are, if you see me out in public on my own, I don't want to talk to you.

There are appropriate people to discuss personal and difficult situations with. I am not one of them unless I am your friend or relative. I am not here to make you feel better about yourself. I am not here to tell you that you're right. I am not here to condone you behaving like a yahoo.

This is not to say that I don't enjoy conversations with strangers. I do, very much so. Talking to perfect strangers is how I've made some of my best friends. What I don't enjoy is someone who I don't know or like, that I don't meet at a party or other event thrown for the purpose of getting people together, taking up my valuable time. I have places to go and things to do. I've got deadlines and Grey's Anatomy to watch.

Hey, when you're done reading this, I have a great story about this guy I knew in High School who did this amazing thing with a jar of mayonnaise and a water buffalo...and I wanna tell you ALL ABOUT IT!

Insanity IV

2007-05-01T09:16:00.000-07:00

It starts out like any other addiction. You see it, it looks fun, tasty, hip, it's what all the cool kids are doing...

I remember the day I took my first sip of REAL coffee. I was sitting on the patio of a little coffee shop on PCHoofestraat in Amsterdam. The waiter brought me my foamy, steaming concoction, and I was chomping at the bit to dive into the wondrous taste adventures that awaited me. That was seven years ago, and I haven't been the same since.

Now, I'm just another lunatic jacked up on enough caffeine to keep a cocaine addict awake three days after his crash. It's sad, really. It's one of America's greatest assets and yet it's one of our greatest downfalls. To answer Elaine's question, No. No, you cannot just have coffee with people anymore. Because coffee is no longer what it was meant to be. In Europe, coffee is sipped slowly at cafes where people relax and take in their environment. Maybe they're there to write a poem, or read a book, or chat with an old friend. In America, people suck it down like they should have it hooked up by IV. They run, sweat stains growing exponentially on their silk crepe covered armpits, in and out of coffee shops with what look like gasoline can sized lattes.

PEOPLE!!! It is not a race to see who can have a stroke first. Coffee is not the new water. There is no reward in showing up to a meeting looking like your Grandma Mimi's ghost sprayed you down with a hose on your way into the office. It is not healthy to pee every three minutes all day long, and no, the hospital can't just give you a catheter "to go".

Americans wonder why they're so stressed out, sleep deprived, and seem to be giving birth only to children who have ADD. They're like crack babies. We won't let them have coffee, so they run around with a straw searching out soda or anything that will keep their perma high going all day. People are now drinking coffee to "come down" from the day's rush that they got from that fifth cup of pure espresso they drank at 3 o'clock. WHAT?! Is Keith Richards now doing a line to come down from the ounce he snorted five minutes ago?

When does it end?

I'll answer that right after I make a fresh pot.

Go Ahead, Condemn Me

2007-04-26T13:59:00.000-07:00

You know when you were a little kid, and your parents told you NOT to do something?

"Don't make that face!"

"Don't eat that, it will make you sick."

"Don't pop your knuckles."

"Don't lie. No one likes a liar."

I remember it. But what I remember most about what my parents told me not to do, was that it only made me want to do it even more. It's also like when someone warns you about something in adulthood.

"Don't talk to her, she's a bitch."

"Don't look in that box, it's a surprise."

"Don't eat there, it wasn't that great."

So what do you do? You walk right up to that woman and you introduce yourself. Who cares if she slept with the supervisor and got a raise? She's your new best friend! You tear through that box like a junkie looking for crack. Never mind that the present wasn't for you. You head straight out to that restaurant and order the most bizarre item on the menu. And you love it! The explosive diarrhea you had all night was caused by something else, like maybe the crackers you scarfed on the way there.

Bringing me to my point. When someone tells you not to do something, there's nothing you want more than to try it. It doesn't matter what it is.

And so my theory of Catholic School as a way to encourage corruption is born.

Yes, I was a Jewish Catholic School Girl. I wore the uniform, I attended Mass, I read the literature and listened as the Priests, Nuns, and teachers told me and the rest of my fellow future hellions that all that feels good in this world is wrong. We had booklets to tell us what punishment we would face in the burning flames of hell for every sin out there. Masturbation, Homosexuality, sex, oral sex, using drugs, disobeying our parents, drinking, not observing the doctrine of the Church, and so on.

I understood where they were coming from, until the subject of sex came up. Now, I may either be naive, or possibly somewhat jaded, but since when is sex a bad thing? Did I not get the memo? Apparently orgasms are the new trans fat, and are to be avoided like the plague. But there's just one problem with that. These people that were telling us that sex is so bad and that we as humans should be ashamed of our sexuality and treat it as some disease that no one wants to talk about, were the same people who were telling us to be fruitful and multiply.

Ummmmmm.... I believe that requires sex.

You would think they would be all for it. But no. And, of course, this constant buzz of "sex is bad" in our ears only made us want to do one thing. That's why at my High School, it was totally common to see pregnant girls running around like cheerleaders. They were everywhere. It was like the entire student body had been infected with Spanish fly.

Of course, my only other question was, if we're not supposed to drink, what's with that huge glass of wine the priest is guzzling down?

Signs That You Might Have A Problem

2007-04-25T09:04:00.000-07:00

I'll admit it. I'm an addict. I have lied to family and friends in order to feed my addiction. I have wasted valuable time and energy sitting in my house and filling my need. I have succumb to the worst form of self-destruction.

I love me some McDreamy.

Here's how to tell if you too have the disease:

1. You start using complicated medical jargon in everyday conversation. People you don't know have asked what kind of medicine you specialize in.

2. You ask dates if they have a thing for Ferry Boats.

3. You went out and bought a pager so that you can clip it to your belt and pretend that you're being paged into major surgery.

4. You say "Seriously" waaaaaayyyyy too often.

5. When you hear your coworkers discussing current events, you have to keep interrupting to ask what they're talking about. You had no idea that the Mayor was re-elected to office by a landslide. But you are acutely aware of Christina and Burke's living arrangement.

6. You know the name of the bar where the crew of SGH hang out.

7. You know what SGH stands for

8. Not only do you own the soundtrack, but you've also researched and downloaded every song that was played from seasons one and two. You know what scenes they're from, and have them labeled.

9. You are able to watch the first two minutes of any episode and know the name and number, and also what season it's from.

10. When the Mer/Der reunion took place at the end of season two, you didn't know whether to cry or rejoice. All you knew was that the season three opener was gonna be a doozy!

If more than three of these apply to you, get yourself some help. Seriously.

But There Is A "U" In Drunk

2007-04-20T06:38:00.000-07:00

Co-workers may not agree on many things. You hear about fights that break out in offices over stupid minutia that in the end makes no difference whatsoever. Things like who forgot to change the toilet paper roll, what's for lunch, and when the fuck did everyone decide that they're taking the day off at the same time? But one thing that everyone can agree on, no matter what their differences are, is that when office parties roll around...it's time to get DRUNK.

Arguments are put aside, grudges temporarily let free. People are happy. There's music in the air, good food as far as the eye can see. Everyone is dressed up, they smell good, they look good. But most importantly, there's free booze. LOTS and lots of free booze. Whatever your little heart can dream up, it's there, and as much of it as you want.

This is where things go downhill. And not the kind of downhill where you can see it coming, the kind of downhill where you don't realize what's happening until you're right there in the middle of the action.

Your cart is rolling down Embarrassment Mountain on a one way track, and everyone at the party is in there with you, drink in hand. Put on your helmets kids, keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Here are a few things I can guarantee will happen, just so you can prepare yourself if you've never done this before:

1. Your Boss is a dirty old man. He's going to make inappropriate comments. Probably in front of your spouse or guest.

2. Some one's spouse or guest is going to get drunk beyond the point of being able to control their bodily functions. There will be vomiting/urinating involved...possibly on your desk.

3. Someone is going to get caught having sex/performing sexual acts in the office/bathroom. They will not be married. Well, at least not to each other.

4. You will have conversations with people, lots and lots of conversations. You will not remember who they are or what you said to them. But trust me, they will remember you, and the outstanding legal advice you gave them. Forget that you've never gone to law school.

So basically it's like any other party you attend, except with other parties you can choose to never see anyone ever again. But not office parties. Oh no, because not only will you see them on Monday, but there will be pictures...lots and lots of pictures.

So make sure to smile.

Be A Sponge

2007-04-16T13:04:00.000-07:00

My new mantra. My new way of life. My new approach to all things necessary and loathsome...I am a sponge.

No, I do not plan to sit on a counter and grow mold and my own special brand of nasty. I'll leave that to the professionals.

So many situations in life are near unbearable. We spend a great deal of time with people we don't like, respect, or care about. They rub us the wrong way, they go against everything we believe in, they are imbeciles. The situation is our job, the people are our bosses and coworkers.

Before you start with the "we've heard this before...blah, blah, blah...bitch, bitch, bitch...", hear me out. I write so much about work because a) Work is where people on average spend most of their time, and b) Work is the cause of most stress in our lives. When you think about it, work is essential to who we are as Americans. It's where we make money, power, and connections. It's where we learn a great deal of practical skills, like how to make coffee and write a damn good letter. It's where we develop our most defining characteristics, like good people skills and alcoholism.

I write about work because it's part of what makes us who we are as individuals, unless you work for your family, in which case none of this applies to you. Seriously, you should just stop reading right now. Everything following this paragraph will probably insult you. Unless you're one of those people who works with their family because you can't get a better job or have no motivation to. In that case, read on, and appreciate your cocoon of false achievement.

So, what's with the sponge mantra, you ask? Well, no, I'm not referring to the kind that Elaine hunted the drugstores of NYC for. That would be kind of icky...I mean, who wants to be a semen soaked sponge? Don't answer that...

MAN, I am getting off topic today!!! OK, back to the issue at hand...

Being a sponge. It's the only way to go. Work can be so unpleasant. I mean really, you know it is. You're tired, cranky, resentful, distracted, and you HATE high heels. I know, I know, don't even get you started on the cheap TP. But the one upside to all of this, is that no matter what you are doing at work, there is always something new to learn.

I have one highlight at work(besides the free coffee), and that is the very nice, and ever patient Associate who works upstairs. Really, the man deserves a medal, I have no earthly idea how he deals with crap thrown at him and remains ever calm and pleasant. So, being forever in need of a rock in the storm, I'm often hiking my hiney upstairs to ask him what the hell I'm supposed to do. His advice, "Be a sponge". Maybe I heard that, or am synthesizing that statement out of the collective similar comments, but either way it was the gist. You have to be a sponge, because otherwise, all the aggravation and hard work will be for nothing. Even if you aren't getting paid for something, or you think it has nothing to do with you and you'll never need it, give it a go anyways. You might enjoy it, or you might need it one day in the very distant future.

Except the TP. Don't buy cheap TP. It just looks tacky.

I Don't Speak Moron

2007-04-13T10:32:00.000-07:00

I'm not one for discretion. I mean, yeah, I can keep a secret, or important info to myself. I'm not saying that I run off at the mouth about anything and everything to anyone who breaths in my direction. But I've never really mastered the art of hiding my true feelings. It's not hard to detect the disgust on my face or the hostility in my voice when I'm having normal everyday conversations.

This is why I've simply stopped engaging in them.

No, I'm not saying that I don't talk to anyone all day long. I'm saying that when confronted with a moron, or smart people who ask moronic questions, I suddenly seem to lose my hearing. This aggravates most people to no end. That's not why I do it. I do it because the only other option is to look at them and ask what language they're speaking. This is not considered polite or appropriate in most settings.

The following are questions that would elicit such a response, and what would come out of most people's mouths if given the chance by society to be honest:

Q:"Really, you're married?"
A: "No, I've just been paying that person over there to live with me and wear that ring for the past 20 years as an ongoing research project. My real family lives in Jersey."

Q:"How can you eat that?"
A:"I can't. I have a bag hidden under the table that I'm discretely spitting my food into when no one is looking. I just eat it to fit in with the likes of you."

Q:"Can I ask you a question?"
A:"No, I'm sorry, but you can't. When Losers-R-Us shipped you over, they forgot to include that feature in your accessories package."

Q:"How do you find the time?"
A:"I dig through others peoples' trash cans. You'd be surprised at the amount of perfectly good time people throw away. Most of it is still usable, as long as you don't mind the taste of cat litter."

I don't do it to be mean either. I'm not a hateful person by nature. I understand that people like to feel heard. It's validating to them. But I am not their therapist, and unless someone is stealing my mail, I'm not getting paid to answer their questions for the hell of it. I have my own questions that need answering. Like:

"Who are you people, and what have you done with the intelligent ones?"

or

"How long do I have to sit here and listen to you before I can get up and leave?"

or

"When did they start offering Moron as a foreign language?"

I think it was right before they started offering Ebonics*.

* Sorry if I misspelled that and offended anyone. I went to a private prep school. I spent my days studying French, History, and the proper use of the English Language. So, I'm not really up to speed on how to sound or act like I was raised in a barn.

There's No "I" In Fuck Off

2007-04-13T08:29:00.000-07:00

I detest the word teamwork. Not because I don't believe in a group of people working together towards a common goal, but because people who actually work as a team don't feel the need to remind each other of what that word means.

The people who walk around throwing out the terms "teamwork", "pulling together", and "there's no I in team" are the people who have no clue what it means to actually be part of a group effort. They don't know what it is to share responsibility, respect someone else's opinion, or appreciate time sensitive issues. They don't ask, they demand. They expect that everyone else is on their page, and of the same mind on all matters at hand.

These people are obviously not living in what the rest of us refer to as "reality".

They live in their world, where everyone is there to help them. Their issues are the only ones that matter. Their opinion is the law. In their world, your life simply does not exist. You are only there to be part of the "team". And by "team", they mean the group of people who do their bidding. They mean the people who do their work, solve their problems, fix their mistakes, and keep them up to date on what is going on in the world around them.

I can't help but wonder, where are these people coming from? What seminar did they attend that told them this is how a team operates? Because I am here to tell them, no matter how much you pay for that advice, it's wrong. I don't care what kind of business coach or mentor they have, these people are being lied to. And they've obviously never been on a team in school, because if you miss that spike in grade school volleyball due to lack of feeling like you actually have to play, they will pummel your sorry ass. It's no different when you're grown up. Their coworkers or friends may not jack them up in the kitchen when no one is looking, but they will pay the price for not contributing anything other than nasty coffee breath to project meetings.

But the worst part, is that they will never know how to do things for themselves. I know people in their thirties who don't possess basic skills such as following a recipe or peeling an apple. Yeah, I laughed at that too.

They delegate, they pass the buck, they expect others to do the dirty work so that they can take all the glory and then turn around and offer their thanks as a consolation prize to the people behind the scenes. They're stealing your thunder, also known as the delicious crumble topped cinnamon bake you made for their child's school party.

Today's Topic:

APPLE PEELING: OR, HOW TO MAKE YOUR SALES TEAM WORK FOR YOU!

Being Proactive About Not Doing Jack

2007-04-12T10:26:00.000-07:00

I swear, I've looked at meetings from every angle. I've been the one heading them up, I've been the one who's requested them, and I've been the one who's trying like hell to stay awake through yet another monotone explanation of why the client is always right. But, for the life of me, the only good thing I can find is the bagels.

Even those aren't all that great most of the time.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for communication. I believe it to be the one component of any relationship that can actually increase in effectiveness and decrease in difficulty over time. But what most people do not understand is that talking is not the same as communicating. Far from it. In fact, a majority of what we say and how we say it is what prevents us from communicating clearly. We talk, and talk, and talk, but nothing changes and nothing gets through.

So what do we do? We have meetings.

"BRILLIANT!" you say! That's just what this company needs, for everyone to sit in a room around a table, and talk. But just for fun, let's bring in someone whom none of us have ever met, or never spoken to. Someone who really doesn't know their head from their ass, and who has never done what we do. Someone we like to call a Consultant.

This Consultant will then lead us in a series of exercises and discussions that are designed to help improve communication, but actually just make us all feel as if we have been transported back to second grade and out teacher is telling us to close our eyes and imagine the ocean. Then, this Consultant is going to ask us questions. Now, remember, no one ever answers these questions truthfully, especially not the boss. Avoiding eye contact is also key when speaking to this consultant. We need to give him a real feel of our customer service skills. And don't worry about what you say to the consultant. The suggestions he'll be giving you will be based on false information anyways.

Now, if we're really lucky, we'll get one of those Consultants who likes to speak to everyone separately. He'll take you into your office, close the door, and encourage you to really open up about your complaints and suggestions on how to improve office morale. Now, doesn't that seem strange? If the whole point of having this person here is to improve communication, shouldn't we be working on how to speak to each other directly and openly, instead of hiding in our cubbies whispering like teenagers? Of course not, because the Consultant needs to know how you really feel so he can put his special spin on it before he goes back to your boss to tell him that the real problem has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the staff(AKA: YOU).

And we're going to go through all of this trouble to avoid actually speaking to each other. Your boss is going through all of this trouble to avoid having to hear the truth, that the reason his company is failing is that he sucks at what he does, and makes no attempts to fix it.

But hey, at least you're getting a free bagel.

You are so not welcome...

2007-04-11T11:19:00.000-07:00

What is with all of the "Thanks" being thrown around these days? You know what I mean, someone sends you an email, or asks you a favor, or sends you a text in which they ask you to do something, and at the end they say "Thanks".

Does anyone else find that presumptuous??

This person is thanking you for something before it's done, which means that they haven't even considered the possibility that you won't do it. When they're sending that email, or asking that favor, they're assuming that you're going to say yes. Or what's worse, they don't even expect or need a response. After all, you're not saying no...right? Because it's never something really big that they're asking you. It's always something like:

"Hey, could you get a copy of that fax for me? Thanks."

"Hey, could you pass the mustard? Thanks"

"Could you call this person for me? Thanks."

"I need to switch our lunch today. Thanks."

"I'm gonna need you to redo this paper. Thanks."

What about "NO"? How about that? How about, I'm not in the mood? What about, I don't have time? Or, just plain I don't want to? You know if you were to come back with any of those, you would be immediately moved to the requester's shit list. You would be rude, offensive, and confrontational. Not because you were wrong. Not because they were right, or justified in being incredibly annoying by jumping the gun. But because they just couldn't wait an extra three seconds, and be considerate, and wait for you to say "Yes" before they threw their "Thanks" all over the place.

Beautiful Dawn

2007-04-10T10:39:00.000-07:00

As part of my self-improvement thing, I've started getting up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 to exercise. Yeah, I know, no one should be up at that time. But alas, I have no other time to get my booty into shape, so 5:30 it is.

Anywhore, there are many advantages to being up that early.

1. No one is around. The streets are quiet. The air is still cold and dry. It's like having the world to myself.

2. It starts my day off right. I have more energy, and I feel like I've already done something for myself. This way, when I go into work and everyone starts demanding shit, I don't feel like this is the first thing I'm walking into.

3. The sunrise. I have always loved sunrise, more so than sunset. Which sounds absurd because they look almost identical. Most people, when shown pictures of sunrise ans sunset cannot tell them apart. But there is something different about them.

So, if you've been looking for a reason or a time to do something for you, get out there and watch the day begin.

People Are People

2007-04-10T06:45:00.000-07:00

Bosses. We all have them, and most of us hate them. They run our lives eight hours a day. They sign our checks and determine our salaries. We see them more than most other people in our lives, probably more than most of see our spouses or best friends. Probably more than most of us see ourselves. Yet, most of us strive to be them. We strive to be the person who says when, why, and for how long. We want to be in charge of our time, our money, and our careers. We want to be in control.

Some of us have those bosses that are like our parents or our friends. They're there for us when something goes horribly wrong. They understand when we have moments of doubt, and pain, and difficulty. They support us and see us through the rough spots and celebrate with us through our achievements and successes. The relationship is give and take, it's equal, and it's satisfying.

I use the word relationship because whether we would like to admit it or not, that is what we have with our bosses(and our coworkers, but that's another post for another time). Yes, it is a professional relationship, but a relationship nonetheless. So, to me, this is the reason that some of us get so caught up in how that relationship is doing. Because deep down, we do care. We care what this person has to say, and how they treat us. We care about our work and our jobs, and how to better those things.

Which brings me to the rant part of today's blog. Some of us do not have those bosses that are like parents or friends. Some of us have those bosses that are like that teacher in High School who you just knew was out to get you, or that bully in third grade who made your life hell in order to feel better about his own. But the best part is, that most of the shit your boss is going to chew you our for or make you feel bad about, has absolutely nothing to do with you. Examples:

When your boss yells at you about that typo on page four, he's really yelling about his frigid wife not giving him any. You didn't write that report, he did.

When your boss embarrasses you in a room full of clients, he's really embarrassing his Father who never thought he would amount to anything. All you did is ask if anyone wanted some coffee.

If your boss makes fun of your outfit in front of others, all he's really telling you is that he's still insecure about his weight. He has been since college and his wife won't let him eat carbs. You're dressed in a suit that you had tailored, and it hits past your knees.

If your boss throws things and breaks office equipment(which you will be asked to fix at a later date), he's really just frustrated because he chose a career that he never wanted, and only did it because it was the easiest way to go. He's pissed that he hasn't woken up as Urban Meyer yet.

And the list goes on. Everyone has a boss at some point that humiliates them, yells at them, calls them names, threatens them, berates them, makes them doubt themselves and their ability as a professional, treats them like shit, and never says 'Thank You'. Everyone has a boss who at one point or another will turn you into their personal slave and take advantage of you to no end.

Until the day that you become the boss. When that day comes, you get to decide what kind of boss you'll be. But I'm begging you, no matter what you decide, please do not ever insult a woman's outfit, no matter how much you miss pasta.

Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire...

2007-04-09T08:26:00.000-07:00

The next time someone tells you you're rude, chances are, they're telling you that you're too honest. I know this sounds wacky, and I'm probably generalizing my ass off, but just hear me out. Think about the millions of lies that you tell everyday. They aren't really big lies. They're what we call white lies. Seemingly harmless lies that cover up what we're really thinking in the vain attempts to either save someone's feelings, or protect our own. Examples:

"Yeah, that's fine, I didn't want the rest of that coffee."

"No, I don't mind that I now have to do extra work that isn't my own, while not being compensated for it. Really, no need to say 'Thanks' either."

"Yeah, go ahead, I mean, it's not like I was ahead of you anyways."

"Sure, play your music as loud as you want at 1 in the morning. I hate getting sleep before I have to get up early to go to work."

"No, that didn't hurt my feelings at all. I love being told one thing, and then you doing something else. Really, what are expectations anyways?"

"No, I don't care that you just spilled red wine all over my new white sweater because you were drunk and disorderly. And no, I don't expect you to pay for it to be dry cleaned. It was totally my fault that you walked over to my table after I tried so carefully to avoid you by sitting on the other side of the room."

"Your hair looks great. The poodle on top of the head look is so in right now."

And we do it everyday, we LIE. Openly, in people's faces. And the most unbelievable part, is that they know. Yes, that's right. People know that you are a big liar. They do not believe that your long lost Uncle has shown up, suddenly requiring your full attention, and therefore rendering you unavailable for work or anything related to it for the next three days. They do not believe that you think they look great in that DKNY dress. No one looks good in DKNY, not even Donna Karen. And they certainly do not believe that you were in Thailand to get your teeth worked on. We all know why you went.

Bringing me back to my point. When someone calls you rude, chances are, they are saying that you are too honest. Why, you ask? Because the average person equates honesty with being impolite. Yep, that's right. You telling the truth is considered rude. You telling someone that you really do mind them skipping you in line, is rude. You telling your friend that her hair really doesn't look good like that, but better down or layered, is rude.You telling your boss that you are a person too, and therefore deserve the same respect as everyone else, is rude. You asking someone to pay for their mistakes, is rude.

So, what to do? Well, if you're anything like me, you tell the truth anyways. I'm not saying that I walk around blurting out everything that pops into my head. If I did that, not only would I be the most unpopular person ever, but they would probably banish me to some island somewhere where no one could find me, like Napolean. But I do tend to say things that a lot of people don't like. I will tell someone when something is not ok.

"No, it's not ok for you to speak to me that way. Just because you sign my check doesn't mean that I am your whipping boy. That's what you've got 'friends' for."

"No, you weren't here first, I was. If you had been first then you would be standing here, not me."

"No, I don't think the sweater makes you look fat. I just think it's an ugly and overpriced sweater."

"Yes, I am mad at you. I think you lying to me is not only unwarranted but makes you look like a jerk."

And my personal favorite that I share with Mallory:

"No, it's not just you. I just really don't like people."

Yes, it is more comfortable to lie. When we lie we don't have to face the chance that someone will dislike us, lose respect for us, or not want to be our friend anymore(yes, this sounds second grade, but that's because most people you know haven't moved from that point). When we lie we protect someone's feelings and self-esteem(which by the way is not our job, it's called SELF-esteem for a reason). But most of all, when we lie, we don't have to admit to ourselves that we(GASP!!!!) don't agree with everyone all the time, and that we will have a different opinion, and that it's ok to not like that hideous shade of seafoam that now is all over your living room because you couldn't just speak up.

I'm not saying that you should intentionally go out and hurt people's feelings and be an asshole just because you can. I'm saying that most of the time, when that voice in your head is telling you that you really don't want to go on that trip, or eat that meal, or write that report for a coworker who's faking...it's ok to say no.

Changes

2007-04-09T08:24:00.000-07:00

We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person. . W. Somerset Maugham

Interesting discussion in Psych class today. I've always heard that people change. They change locations, they change friends, they change jobs, and sometimes they even change Starbucks. But why is it that even when we are aware of how we change, we sometimes forget that the people around us do too? And what is it that really changes about someone? People can change their hair, their laugh, their house, their career goals, or even their life goals. But does anyone ever really change who they are as a person? Is that woman ahead of you in line at Target that's bitching out the cashier still just the school bully? Is that guy who claims he's been with a million girls still the guy who could never get a date in High School? Is the in-the-moment- artist still the kid who liked to draw on the walls with her Mom's lipstick? Is it possible to change, yet stay the same?

I can see the changes in myself that have taken place slowly but surely over the past two years. I've calmed down, I've learned to listen more often than speak, I've learned when to jump, and when to wait, I've learned to really appreciate the good stuff, I've come to understand my family better, I know my limits(unless we're talking tequila, in which case I have no self control...but hey, no one's perfect), I have a better understanding of what I really want out of life and how to get it, I accept that I do not have all of the answers, and that's ok, I finally got off my lazy ass and lost 30 lbs and can now say that I love my body, and the very best change that has taken place is that I've accepted the things that aren't ever going to change. I will always be shy when it comes to men. I will never be the girl who can somehow manage to have perfect hair everyday. I will always argue when I know I'm right. I will always have a soft spot for kids, no matter how much I claim to hate them. I will never be able to make a decision without mulling it over, sleeping on it, talking about it, and basically hauling it around until the answer finally just pops into my brain. And I'll never be one of those people who religiously puts on sunscreen. You have to keep reapplying, who has time for that?

But anyways, the point is, how do we manage to love people even when they change yet stay the same? What if those crucial parts of us that were once loved are no longer who we are? Or worse, what if those parts of the person you loved are no longer who they are? I'm here to tell you, it's not easy to figure that out if you've been away from them for a while. It's like talking to a stranger. But if we're lucky, that geeky kid with braces and shy girl with unruly hair are still in there.

Getting Your Shit Back

2007-04-09T08:22:00.000-07:00

We have all been in this position. You've just been over to someone's house. You had a good time, or maybe now you would rather stab yourself in the eye with a rusty nail than ever go back, but either way you're driving home. Suddenly you realize it, you've forgotten something. It could be a bracelet, your wallet, a key, it could even be that stapler you ripped off from your office and are hoping no one will notice is gone(but really, if you left a stapler at someone's house, you have bigger problems then how to get it back), but whatever the case may be, you now have the pleasure of figuring out how to get that object back into your possession. Being the neurotic and sometimes overly materialistic person that I am, this is always a matter of principle to me. Someone besides me now has something of mine, and whether or not it was my fault for forgetting to take it with me, I want it back.

This situation is not to be confused with the leave behind. The leave behind is a pathetic and transparent attempt to somehow manipulate someone into seeing you again by leaving something at their house that you will have to go back and get. I do not believe in, nor do I condone, the leave behind. They know what's up, and so do you. Cut your losses and forget about it. No one really believes that you can't live without those 3 dollar bikini briefs. But a fifty dollar VS french cut lace number, that's a whole other ball game.

Anywhore, you are now in need of a way to get your stuff back. Here are my suggestions:

1. Call them right now, and tell them you are swinging back by to grab the object in question. You are not staying, you are getting out of your car, getting what it is you came back for, and leaving. If they are on their way out, tell them to leave it by the door.

2. If you know that they are not home(you both left at the same time), call and ask when the best time is for you to either come over and get your stuff, or where they want to meet you to do the pick-up. Again, this is not a reason to see them, you just want your stapler back.

3. And this is in case of the rusty nail situation: Go to the Post Office and purchase an envelope with postage already on it, and send it to the person who has your underwear/socks/wallet/hairdryer. No, I'm not joking. I have been in the unfortunate situation of forgetting something at someone's house who I for various reasons could not be around again. I sent them the envelope with a quick note as to what it was for. I got my stuff back.

And for those of you who are thinking "You sound crazy. It is stupid and immature to go to these lengths to get back somethig so trivial.", let me tell you this: I am Jewish. There is no such thing as too trivial a possession. If I know that the thing I forgot is still out there and functional, and I or someone else paid good money for it, I'm getting it back.

P.S. According to Janice, people can use your panties for voodoo. So if that's what you forgot, you better get it back ASAP, or you're pretty much SOL.

Ruminating

2007-04-09T08:16:00.000-07:00

When men attempt bold gestures, generally it's considered romantic. When women do it, it's often considered desperate or psychotic. - Carrie

No matter what anyone says, we all know the above statement is pretty much always true. But my questions is, why? Someone told me the other day that one of the best things that anyone can hear is that someone out there loves them. Sounded good enough. Who doesn't want to hear that they're adored, admired, cherished? Maybe it's not so much what is being said, but who's saying it. And what about the difference between men and women? I'll admit that I've had more than one person spill it all to me either before or after many drinks, and even if it was the most romantic and sweet sentiment, there are times when the words have made me cringe. Not becasue I didn't appreciate what they were feeling, but becasue I didn't feel the same way. The weight of knowing how that person felt, and knowing that my response would either fill them with joy or make them want to hide under the table, that's big.

Is it the same for men? Is it the thought of not knowing the polite response to someone's unrequited love that sends them running for the hills, or just not being able to deal with it even if they do feel the same way? Have we become conditioned to believe that it's men's place to do the professing, and women's place to do the receiving? Are we that far behind the times, through no fault of our own? Or is it our fault? Since when do we live in a world where the traditional male/female roles are stuck to?

Men and women have been trading places for years now. Men stay at home to raise the kids, they help their wives shop, they carry purses for god's sake! The gender lines have become blurred. No longer are men the bread winners and women waiting at home, martini in hand. We compete side by side at work, at home, at school, and sometimes on the playing field. My being a woman has not stopped me from playing football with my guy friends, and it hasn't stopped them from running into me full force and tackling me to the ground. It has not stopped me from getting a better GPA than some of my male peers. It has not stopped me from getting a better job either. I fight dirty, and the best opponents I've had are men. Women have come a long way(no, this is not the start of a feminist rant). Counting milestones such as fighting for the right to vote, or own property are not considerd so huge in my book anymore, becasue if you think about it, those things were pretty obvious and inevitable, but I digress. We run multi-million dollar businesses, we climb mountains, we dicover medical miracles, we face adversity with grace and aplomb, and never mess up our hair in the process. We possess all of the knowledge, self-awareness, dignity, and might I say, balls(figuratively of course) of any man we come up against. We no longer see them as the stronger sex, but a worthy opponent and desired ally. They have become our equals, our partners, our counterpoints. We love them for everything that they are, and everything that they strive to be.

So what the fuck is up with not being able to tell them?