So I started a new position at my job this week. I guess it means I'll be posting less since I now have a boss who actually requires that I accomplish something. I really don't post all that much as it is, but for you 1.5 people who are actually reading this, I'm afraid you're just going to have to lighten up and stop expecting so much from me.
Josh is in Orlando this week on a business trip. He claims via phone that he misses me terribly, but I suspect that he is very much enjoying smoozing with the rich people. He's manning a booth at a surfwear trade show where he talks business with companies the likes of Bilabong and Speedo and Body Glove (which I laughed at, and he quickly informed me that they no longer make the neon pink and green shorts my brothers used to wear, but have instead very wisely focused on producing wet suits.)
He challenges other businessmen to rounds of ping-pong at a nearby booth during his breaks, and goes out for Lobster and Sushi with clients in the evening. They talk about things like Rip Stop and purchase orders and the new board short design. He swims in the hotel pool later to exercise his poor, overworked muscles, and then relaxes in front of his cable television and complimentary mini bar. It has been a tiring but satisfying day, and tomorrow he must go back and do it all over again.
Meanwhile...
I start to drool at my desk as I have lost all touch with reality.
The Boredom has come again, spurred on by concepts like Cable Pairs and Drop Sites and CILI Codes (pronounced "Silly" Codes, and has something to do with the location of a telephone line in relation to the main office and, incidentally, is about as silly as my work gets.) I have a brief fantasy about fighting off a masked gunman who hijacks our office. I perform marvelously in my fantasy and disarm him even after sustaining a major gunshot wound to the arm. I may never use that appendage again, but darn it, it was a good way to go.
When I return from my 15-year-old-boy-like daydream, I am morbidly disappointed to see that my arm is still functioning, and therefore I have no good excuse for going home early today. I am depressed and have only Silly Codes to entertain me.
But really... honestly... I have to think positively.
Josh's hotel roommate snores. And I have the bed to myself.
Life is good.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
I knew a girl named Claudia once.
She came to my school in about the 2nd grade. She had the whitest skin and hair I'd ever seen. She wasn't allowed to watch the movies we watched in class. She couldn't draw pictures of people or animals. She wore tights and long denim skirts and long sleeve shirts no matter what the temperature. She told us it was because of her religion.
Claudia had a lying problem.
I'm not sure now how I recognized the lies, but somehow my little 7 year-old mind filed Claudia under "fibber." I was never friends with her and didn't want to be. Claudia was weird and likely couldn't be trusted. The other kids didn't involve her any more than I did, and she was pushed even further outside the social circle then her religion ever required her to be.
Claudia came to school one day with a story that made all the kids crowd around her. She told us how her little brother had stolen an eraser from the book fair. It was one of those cute erasers shaped like a pony or a basketball that fit on the end of your pencil and really smudged more than it ever erased.
Little brother had swiped the eraser and when confronted by dad had lied and said it was Claudia. She pulled up the side of her skirt to show us the results.
Daddy had whipped Claudia up one side and down the other. The white, almost transparent flesh was replaced by a black and purple bruise the size of a dinner plate. It was deep and awful and covered the entire top half of her thigh. The crowd gasped and asked the obvious. "Does it hurt?"
I had never seen anything so awful. I'd had plenty of spankings but none of them had ever, ever produced such an effect. Claudia seemed to relish the attention and yanked her skirt up for anyone who asked. She'd probably never been so popular.
I wonder now if I should have known better. Is my childish memory exaggerating the severity? Could Claudia's skin just bruise easily? Maybe she'd just fallen down...?
Maybe I should have said something.
But I didn't. Poor Claudia the Liar had been perversely beaten. I mean, I was just a 2nd grader, and I could recognize that. But I didn't do anything. I ogled the bruise then went back to my desk, forgetting all about her.
She moved away at the end of that year, just as quietly and friendlessly as she had come in. I never told a teacher or my parents about what she had shown us. I filed the memory away, and now it only comes back every so often, for reasons I'm not sure of.
Claudia had a lying problem.
I'm not sure now how I recognized the lies, but somehow my little 7 year-old mind filed Claudia under "fibber." I was never friends with her and didn't want to be. Claudia was weird and likely couldn't be trusted. The other kids didn't involve her any more than I did, and she was pushed even further outside the social circle then her religion ever required her to be.
Claudia came to school one day with a story that made all the kids crowd around her. She told us how her little brother had stolen an eraser from the book fair. It was one of those cute erasers shaped like a pony or a basketball that fit on the end of your pencil and really smudged more than it ever erased.
Little brother had swiped the eraser and when confronted by dad had lied and said it was Claudia. She pulled up the side of her skirt to show us the results.
Daddy had whipped Claudia up one side and down the other. The white, almost transparent flesh was replaced by a black and purple bruise the size of a dinner plate. It was deep and awful and covered the entire top half of her thigh. The crowd gasped and asked the obvious. "Does it hurt?"
I had never seen anything so awful. I'd had plenty of spankings but none of them had ever, ever produced such an effect. Claudia seemed to relish the attention and yanked her skirt up for anyone who asked. She'd probably never been so popular.
I wonder now if I should have known better. Is my childish memory exaggerating the severity? Could Claudia's skin just bruise easily? Maybe she'd just fallen down...?
Maybe I should have said something.
But I didn't. Poor Claudia the Liar had been perversely beaten. I mean, I was just a 2nd grader, and I could recognize that. But I didn't do anything. I ogled the bruise then went back to my desk, forgetting all about her.
She moved away at the end of that year, just as quietly and friendlessly as she had come in. I never told a teacher or my parents about what she had shown us. I filed the memory away, and now it only comes back every so often, for reasons I'm not sure of.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Ahh, Monday. How I hate your guts.
I can already tell that I'm not going to be good at this blogging business. Everytime I start to write I get all wrapped up in trying to make my post sound perfect and witty and terribly sarcastic, like I'm one of those stay-at-home mom's who gets to write clever anecdotes about their kids and not like the boring 8-5er that I really am.
So...
I look like crap today. And unfortunatly, that is the most interesting thing I have to write about. I know you're dying to read on.
I tend to wear the same pair of khaki pants every Monday. I barely have time to heat up the iron, but I do it anyway, for posterity. I'm sure my co-workers have to hide their snarls at my pants. I mean, I don't even try to think of something more creative to wear. It's Monday. Khaki Pants Day. Why worry with creativity?
But probably nobody's looking at my pants today anyway. They're too distracted by the blueish-greenish-gray sacks that kindly lodged themselves under my eyes sometime during the night. I went to bed a tad bit too late and shared an all-to-fleeting relationship with the snooze button this morning. Neverthless, I did not make it into the shower, so my hair is a messy wad pulled back into a snarly ponytail. If that's a word.
I went comando on the make-up today too. Not a good idea, in hindsight. But am I to blame? It's a Monday.
If I were my bosses, I would fire me.
So...
I look like crap today. And unfortunatly, that is the most interesting thing I have to write about. I know you're dying to read on.
I tend to wear the same pair of khaki pants every Monday. I barely have time to heat up the iron, but I do it anyway, for posterity. I'm sure my co-workers have to hide their snarls at my pants. I mean, I don't even try to think of something more creative to wear. It's Monday. Khaki Pants Day. Why worry with creativity?
But probably nobody's looking at my pants today anyway. They're too distracted by the blueish-greenish-gray sacks that kindly lodged themselves under my eyes sometime during the night. I went to bed a tad bit too late and shared an all-to-fleeting relationship with the snooze button this morning. Neverthless, I did not make it into the shower, so my hair is a messy wad pulled back into a snarly ponytail. If that's a word.
I went comando on the make-up today too. Not a good idea, in hindsight. But am I to blame? It's a Monday.
If I were my bosses, I would fire me.
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Amy is a good friend
...and my only friend. I must admit that this is my first time to be tagged. And dang it if it doesn't feel good!
Three things that scare me:
1.)Tornados. Tell me that a whirling column of powerful wind and nail-filled pieces of flying trailer house doesn't scare the snot out of you. Just tell me.
2.)Scary cave monsters. Not to copy Amy, but I made the fatal error of watching "The Descent" a few weeks ago. Not only have I not slept since, but I recently had an ultra-realistic dream in which my hubby merely pretended to be one those awful flesh-eating cave-dwellers, and I've been watching my back ever since. Mind you, this was just a dream and he was just pretending in the dream, but I still can't trust him. You just never know.
3.) Carnies. They just can'thave good intentions.
Three people who make me laugh:
1.) Josh. I've honestly had to argue with him more than once over the exsistence of vampires.
2.) My brother Caleb. After being mistaken time after time for my older brother, Jacob, who appeared on Fear Factor recently, Caleb finally just started going along with people and pretending he was Jacob. He answered questions about what fun he'd had, how the cochroaches tasted and what he was going to do with money. Caleb is currently studying to be actor. He's obvioulsy good at it.
3.) Can Hiss from the Disney version of "Robin Hood" count as a person?
Three things I hate the most:
1.) My miniature toenails and their inability to look normal.
2.) People who talk too much. Please, annoying man who comes into my office once a week, please take a hint. I don't have time to hear about your vacation to Alaska. I don't care about your lazy-reared golf game. And though you may not mention it in your incessant chatter, I can tell you've been smoking for the past 800 years, and I appreciate you sharing that thick raspy laugh/cough with me. At least it breaks up the nonsense.
3.) And finally, vomiting.
Three things I don't understand:
1.) Why I got a degree in Broadcasting.
2.) Why God created billions of stars and incredible far-away galaxies for no apparent reason.
3.) Why God created humongous scary-teethed fish that dwell deep in what would otherwise be the nice peaceful ocean.
Three things I'm doing right now:
1.) Pretending not to be looking at the new People magazine.
2.) Chewing on my awful looking cuticles.
3.) Thinking about lunchtime.
Three things I want to do before I die:
1.) Have babies.
2.) Successfully aquire a hobby. So far, in my 23 years, I have tried and failed at all of the following: singing, playing piano, playing softball, basketball, all track and field events, being an extrovert, collecting stamps, making foil balls, making rubberband balls, collecting anything, doing other people's hair, playing violin, skipping rocks and being consistently trendy. This is not an exhaustive list.
3.) Get lovely, sculpted arms.
Three things I can do:
1.) Marry goodlooking talented men.
2.) Identify various beverages in a blind taste test.
3.) Wear my Rainbow flip flops until they get so old and worn out that they simple cease to exsist.
Three ways to describe my personality:
1.) Thrifty.
2.) Casual.
3.) Secret spy-like.
Three things I can't do:
1.) Enjoy running.
The rest of my limitations are too numerous to list. So we'll leave it at that.
Three things I think you should listen to:
1.) I don't know the answer to this.
Three things you should never listen to:
1.) I don't know the answer to this either.
Three things I'd like to learn:
1.) Spanish
2.) How to look in the mirror and think to myself "Wow, this outfit looks incredible on me! I have a great sense of style and feel loved and admired wherever I go, and should for no reason second-guess my choice of shirt, hair color or nose size. I am so freaking confident!"
3.) How not to cry at the end of sad movies. Wouldn't it be wonderful to walk out of a theater after a tear-jerker and not be painfully aware of your shiny red nose and swollen blood-shot eyes when you see your friends in the lobby?
It's the simple things, really.
Three favorite foods:
1.) Sushi
2.) Plain ol' white cake with white icing. Mmmmm...delicious.
3.) My mom's mashed potatoes and deviled eggs.
Three beverages I drink regularly:
1.) Water
2.) Milk
3.) Some ridiculous protein-laced muscle-building drink that Josh forces on me but has failed to produce any results as of yet.
Three shows I watched as a kid:
1.) Smurfs
2.) Saved by the Bell (when my mom wasn't around).
3.) Superbook (about the kids who travel through a retro-digital Bible to experience wonderful Biblical adventures...when my mom was around).
Three people I'm tagging (to do this): My friends who read something like this are limited, so Josh and Luke consider yourself tagged. And Devi...you've been double tagged. Beware the triple tag!
Three things that scare me:
1.)Tornados. Tell me that a whirling column of powerful wind and nail-filled pieces of flying trailer house doesn't scare the snot out of you. Just tell me.
2.)Scary cave monsters. Not to copy Amy, but I made the fatal error of watching "The Descent" a few weeks ago. Not only have I not slept since, but I recently had an ultra-realistic dream in which my hubby merely pretended to be one those awful flesh-eating cave-dwellers, and I've been watching my back ever since. Mind you, this was just a dream and he was just pretending in the dream, but I still can't trust him. You just never know.
3.) Carnies. They just can'thave good intentions.
Three people who make me laugh:
1.) Josh. I've honestly had to argue with him more than once over the exsistence of vampires.
2.) My brother Caleb. After being mistaken time after time for my older brother, Jacob, who appeared on Fear Factor recently, Caleb finally just started going along with people and pretending he was Jacob. He answered questions about what fun he'd had, how the cochroaches tasted and what he was going to do with money. Caleb is currently studying to be actor. He's obvioulsy good at it.
3.) Can Hiss from the Disney version of "Robin Hood" count as a person?
Three things I hate the most:
1.) My miniature toenails and their inability to look normal.
2.) People who talk too much. Please, annoying man who comes into my office once a week, please take a hint. I don't have time to hear about your vacation to Alaska. I don't care about your lazy-reared golf game. And though you may not mention it in your incessant chatter, I can tell you've been smoking for the past 800 years, and I appreciate you sharing that thick raspy laugh/cough with me. At least it breaks up the nonsense.
3.) And finally, vomiting.
Three things I don't understand:
1.) Why I got a degree in Broadcasting.
2.) Why God created billions of stars and incredible far-away galaxies for no apparent reason.
3.) Why God created humongous scary-teethed fish that dwell deep in what would otherwise be the nice peaceful ocean.
Three things I'm doing right now:
1.) Pretending not to be looking at the new People magazine.
2.) Chewing on my awful looking cuticles.
3.) Thinking about lunchtime.
Three things I want to do before I die:
1.) Have babies.
2.) Successfully aquire a hobby. So far, in my 23 years, I have tried and failed at all of the following: singing, playing piano, playing softball, basketball, all track and field events, being an extrovert, collecting stamps, making foil balls, making rubberband balls, collecting anything, doing other people's hair, playing violin, skipping rocks and being consistently trendy. This is not an exhaustive list.
3.) Get lovely, sculpted arms.
Three things I can do:
1.) Marry goodlooking talented men.
2.) Identify various beverages in a blind taste test.
3.) Wear my Rainbow flip flops until they get so old and worn out that they simple cease to exsist.
Three ways to describe my personality:
1.) Thrifty.
2.) Casual.
3.) Secret spy-like.
Three things I can't do:
1.) Enjoy running.
The rest of my limitations are too numerous to list. So we'll leave it at that.
Three things I think you should listen to:
1.) I don't know the answer to this.
Three things you should never listen to:
1.) I don't know the answer to this either.
Three things I'd like to learn:
1.) Spanish
2.) How to look in the mirror and think to myself "Wow, this outfit looks incredible on me! I have a great sense of style and feel loved and admired wherever I go, and should for no reason second-guess my choice of shirt, hair color or nose size. I am so freaking confident!"
3.) How not to cry at the end of sad movies. Wouldn't it be wonderful to walk out of a theater after a tear-jerker and not be painfully aware of your shiny red nose and swollen blood-shot eyes when you see your friends in the lobby?
It's the simple things, really.
Three favorite foods:
1.) Sushi
2.) Plain ol' white cake with white icing. Mmmmm...delicious.
3.) My mom's mashed potatoes and deviled eggs.
Three beverages I drink regularly:
1.) Water
2.) Milk
3.) Some ridiculous protein-laced muscle-building drink that Josh forces on me but has failed to produce any results as of yet.
Three shows I watched as a kid:
1.) Smurfs
2.) Saved by the Bell (when my mom wasn't around).
3.) Superbook (about the kids who travel through a retro-digital Bible to experience wonderful Biblical adventures...when my mom was around).
Three people I'm tagging (to do this): My friends who read something like this are limited, so Josh and Luke consider yourself tagged. And Devi...you've been double tagged. Beware the triple tag!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
