NCAA Violations

This random guy asked me out this weekend. Did I choose a normal response to this invitation like, "I have a boyfriend," or "I'm flattered, but I'm really not interested," or anything sounding remotely like what a sane person would say? No, of course not! Here's a clip of the conversation...

RG: "I like Baltimore actually."

M: "Uh-oh. We can't be friends on Monday night then."

RG: "Oh, so you're a Packers fan?"

M: "Yep, I'm from Wisconsin."

RG: "How about a bet then. Packers win, I take you out to dinner."

M: "Ummm...actually, I'm not allowed to bet. That would be an NCAA Violation."

RG: (looking pretty baffled.) "What?"

M: "Yeah, I work for a university athletic department, and betting is against NCAA
code. So, ummmm, I guess I'll see you around."

RG watches me walk away, looking slightly stunned at the way the whole thing turned out.

Two Notes

1-I have since learned that often gang members do hold a certain affinity for amusement parks and carnivals. No less than four people have confirmed this fact to me.
2-VBG made good on her threats to post something about me on her blog. I definitely should have known my comment on the whole thing would only provoke her! Luckily she's also generously nice and took the entry off after Carport Furby was deactivated for a couple days.

Gangsta Attraction

I heard a few complaints this morning about the Christmas in the Park event in San Jose. One particularly fatal flaw of the event was that there was a ferris wheel and some other carnival rides. This may not seem like a problem to you, but apparently, ferris wheels attract gang members. And, of course, the gang members bring out the police officers, which does something to hurt the whole family atmosphere of the soiree. Anyway, I just had no idea that ferris wheels attracted gang members. This is the conversation I imagine:

Gangsta 1: "Yo Dog, I heard they got a ferris wheel over at Christmas in the Park."

Gangsta 2: "No way. You be trippin'."

Gangsta 1: "Yeah, I was thinking we should go over there, take a couple rides, pick up some honeys."

Gangsta 2: "Yeah, I heard that new chick's going to be there; I know she'd get with me if I showed her I could handle myself on a ferris wheel."

Okay, I'm sorry, that was probably the worst bit of dialogue I have ever written. (I know, I know, VBG, I ought to be better at that gangster lingo with the music I listen to, but what can I say?) But seriously, do gang members really like ferris wheels that much? Or do middle class fathers of two mistake what is really attracting the gang members to the party?

UN-idle Threats

VBG is always threatening to post things about me on her blog. It's funny and scary.

I Spy

See anything strange in this little photo of the lovely Bellagio Fountains?
.........
Nothing yet? Look in the lower left hand corner.
........
Yep, there he is. A security guard in a little dingy with a motor tooling around the pond during the middle of the show. Hmmmmmmm....
If I could have any job, I would definitely be the person in the dingy during the Bellagio Water Fountain Shows.

Hard Times

Overheard from a conversation between 3 older teenage guys hanging around outside a strip mall----

Teen 1: "So, is college really that bad?"

Teen 2 (exasperated): "You already asked that. YES. It really sucks."

Teen 3 begins whistling an indistinguishable tune.

Crib Shopping

At a bar, while watching the Packers game, one of my Packers buddies explains his plans for next weekend.

"Yeah, since the Packers play on Monday night next week, my wife and I are going crib shopping next Sunday. You know, crib shopping, not shopping for a house, but crib shopping."

This explanation is accompanied by hand gestures that seem to be indicating a rectangular sort of shape. I'm assuming it was meant to be a crib.

It's Not Funny Anymore

Yeah, ummmm...I got TWO more tickets for toll evasion in the mail yesterday. I kid you not---TWO!!!! I'm going crazy. One for the stupid Dumbarton and one for the Bay Bridge. I have never driven my car over the Bay Bridge. I've been over the Dumbarton once, and that was in May or something. I always pay my tolls. I don't have a FasTrak, so I don't accidentally drive through with no money on my account. I stop and pay cash. I don't even know what to do at this point. I could call them again to complain, and they'll tell me again that they don't have any control over it because they outsource the license plate matching process. I will then flip out and say, "Yeah, sure, who do you outsource it to? Preschoolers? Monkeys? Chinchillas?"

Quote of the...(3)

"The ones who like the homework---they're the traitors."

A-Maze-Ing

I went to a corn maze (the corn is behind the pumpkins in the picture) last weekend. It's not the first corn maze that I've been to. When I was in school, I used to go to this corn maze in the fall. It was huge; the alleys looked like they had probably been made by a small combine. They had little clues at the intersections to help you decide which way to turn (we still got lost.) There was even a part of the maze that was haunted. So the corn maze I went to this past weekend was a little different. It was a free corn maze at a pumpkin patch. The alleys were a little bit smaller, as in you couldn't even walk two abreast. We ended up in the middle of the corn with no path at all about three times before I realized that the trail had led to dead ends, and I had just kept going. You would think, me being an experience corn mazer, I would have realized when the trail was coming to an end. P&AF, a corn maze virgin, knew the whole time; just the same he let me continue on my merry, uncharted way. So, we couldn't find the exit to the corn maze. But I'm happy to report that we didn't have to go back out the entrance. We just made our own trail and came out the side of the corn maze. Yes, excellent corn mazers we are. And no, you do not want to get lost in the wilderness with me.

No You Didn't?!?!?!

The waitress lost my credit card somewhere between the cash register and our table. She came back to tell me about it and promised that they'd find it as long as a "plate didn't eat it." She was nearly in tears. After she and the rest of the wait staff tore the place apart, she came back to say she couldn't find it after all. I had to ask if they'd comp our meal. She said that they would and that she was going to cry. She offered to call me when they found it. I said that wouldn't be necessary, considering the fact that I'd be canceling the card as soon as I walked out of the restaurant. I felt bad for her, but seriously, how do you lose a credit card in 30 feet and 20 seconds? Now I have the fun of getting a new card and closing/re-opening accounts, setting up bill-pay! Yahoo!!!

Lawbreaker

The other day I got my second ticket for toll evasion in the mail. The funny (well actually I'm not really laughing anymore) thing about it is that it's the second time that I didn't drive through a toll plaza without paying a toll. Back in June I got a ticket for crossing the Dumbarton at noon on a Tuesday and not paying the toll in my Subaru. This doesn't make a whole lot of sense considering that I drive a Mazda, and I generally find myself working in Santa Clara at noon on Tuesdays. I had to write in to dispute the charge, and it was dropped a month later. Now the same thing has happened again. Apparently I just can't stop myself from driving my Subaru across the Dumbarton without paying the $3. I don't know if the people who actually drive the Subaru have altered their license plates, or if one letter is an F rather than an E and the toll people can't interpret it, but I sure wish the Subaru driver would stop evading tolls. This is getting ridiculous!

Fashion Statement

A male speed-dater wears:

A blue and white floral print, collared shirt. From all angles (mostly the pattern) it appears to be a woman's blouse. Over the top of the blue and white floral print shirt, a green and blue striped rugby shirt.

Yes, I'm sure he was picking up numbers in twos!

2,000 Calories To China

You've probably all heard this before, but it still amazes me a little bit. A conversation on the escalator in Nordstroms between two 15-ish year-old teen ladies. A parental-type woman, who I would assume was the mother of one or both of them was also present. They were both about size 0.

Teen 1: I really just don't want Chinese food.
Teen 2: Yeah, me neither.
Teen 1: I mean, one plate of food is pretty much 2,000 calories.
Teen 2: Yeah, I don't want that.
Teen 1: Well, you're fine, you really don't have to worry about that.
Teen 2: Oh, you don't either.
Teen 1: Yeah, let's not get Chinese.

Some People Call Me Maurice

I won a prize at our Staff Recognition Event recently. The announcer pronounced my name "Maurice." It was fun. Later another woman who had attended the dinner asked me how I knew it was me; I thought that was sort of funny, since I'm pretty used to many variations of my name by now.
Once I went home for Christmas, and I chanced to see a friend of a friend at this brewery gift shop. She was working there as a tour guide. We'll call her "M." Anyway, it was a really awkward situation. You see, apparently, M had decided her name was commonplace or something, and she was using my name. So in the middle of the tour, she notices that I'm there, and mentions it to the crowd that I am the "original Maryse" who inspired the name she was using. Now that I consider it further, I think she said something about working with another woman who had her name, so she decided to change hers to avoid confusion. It sure was weird when I noticed her nametag, and then when she noticed I was there. We made awkward conversation after the tour was over. I'm guessing she didn't really count on me showing up there ever, which is odd because it's a small town, and it seems like everyone is always running into everyone. Anyway, it's not like I mind someone else having my name; it's just weird when you know someone's name to be "M," but then they are using "Maris" instead.

Quote Of The...(2)

A question in reference to me dealing with cash in my job:

"So you never just slip one in your pocket or anything?"

Service With A Smile...And Some Homework?!?!

If you ever visited any place at all where someone has had to provide you with a service, you may have had the issue where the customer service agent isn't particularly focused on the service. Perhaps your grocery store clerk was more interested in a conversation with the checker next to her. Possibly you went to check in for a doctor's appointment, and the front office manager was a little preoccupied with the latest issue of People. I recently experienced similar great service. When I arrived at the customer service counter to conduct a few financial transactions, the representative was obviously busy doing some homework on the computer. Now, I don't have a problem with that at all. If you have some downtime at work, and need to accomplish some extra homework or studying--great, more power to you, use your time as well as you can. But, it's pretty bizarre when you don't actually quit the homework to do your job. In this instance, the rep began to help me with a transaction, and then stopped in the middle of it to add a few lines to her homework project. As our exchange continued, she paused several times in the process to continue the homework. I thought it was quite strange, and I wondered why she really thought it was appropriate. Maybe my customer service laws are too inflexible, and I just need to lower my standards.

Ugly Bird?

B relayed this little tidbit from Family Feud to me. One contestant, when asked to name an ugly bird, responded with "bald eagle." Yes, the majestic symbol of the US has apparently made the ugly bird list. I was seriously sitting here trying to come up with a worse answer to that question, but I couldn't. Unless maybe I answered an animal that wasn't even a bird. Possibly a lion would be more insane, but I just don't even think so.

Also, I really like this song.
Always Coming Back Home To You by Atmosphere.
It's a little shout-out to the Midwest!
On Wisconsin Baby!

Deal Breaker

On a date, with a gentleman we'll call "D," the conversation turns to internet security as we're walking around downtown San Jose.

M: "Yeah, I'm terrible, I don't even have my wireless router encrypted."
D: "Oh, really? I'm actually pretty careful with my security programs. I mean, I wouldn't want to have everything just crash on me."
M: "I know what you mean. I do have a good firewall and anti-virus. Somehow I just haven't gotten around to that router."
D: "Actually, I even setup the parental controls on my computer."
M: "What?"
D: "Yeah, I set it up so that I wouldn't be tempted by anything."
M: (laughing) "Are you serious?"
D: (laughing a little hesitantly) "Sure, I mean, it just makes it easier if I don't have to worry about even being able to get into that stuff."
M: (laughing hysterically, unable to utter coherent words.)

So he didn't know that password to these parental controls that he set up? Hmmmmm...anyway, the relationship fizzled pretty quickly after that little episode.

Eat An Earbud

My cat ate my iPod earphones. I don't know why she thought they would be good. I think she learned it from VBG's dogs. They know how to eat anything---jellybeans, cameras, jeans, if they can get it, they'll eat it. Yeah, so Henri ate the iPod earphones. So I went to buy new ones yesterday. They didn't have the same model that I originally had, so I bought a different variety. They kept spontaneously popping out of my ears. I don't know if you can return earphones or not, but I'm going to try, despite the fact that it seems a little unsanitary to me. Maybe they send them back to the factory for sterilization and re-packaging or something. What a disaster!!!

Hints

1)The pick-up line, "Can I help you with something?" just isn't that great. In recent weeks, I have heard it twice. And, honestly, unless it is obvious that I am in distress---i.e. I dropped a huge box on my foot and I can't move it or my car isn't starting or an obscenely large chipmunk is attacking my shoelaces---I most likely will not need help. It made no sense to me when a random guy in a grocery store parking lot asked me if I needed help while I was loading groceries into my car. It also made no sense to me when some guy at the bar asked me if I needed help while I was closing my tab. I mean, if these guys were hoping that I'd say something like, "Oh yes, I really need help finding a good orgasm!" Then they're just living in an alternate universe. I just don't think that sort of thing happens in real life, well, at least not in the real life I live in. Anyway, I didn't go out with either guy. Though one might have procured my number...
2)If a girl is in an obviously annoying conversation with a guy at a bar and keeps looking at you for help, please, just lend a hand. You don't have to go out with her. Just help her get rid of him. Don't just stand there listening to said conversation and laughing. Step in and say you're sorry you kept her waiting or anything to get the irritating offender away. We'll be forever grateful and think you're a really good guy!

Two Stacks Of Pepperoni

In an incident somewhat related to the newspaper, I was walking to the bank yesterday, and I came upon two stacks of pepperonis sitting on the sidewalk. There were about twenty pepperonis in each stack. They looked like they had been out in the sun for a little too long, and were sitting next to a cement post. It almost looked like someone had placed them there purposely. I found them more puzzling than the "Please Don't Steal" newspaper. So I walked away singing to myself, "I need two stacks of pepperoni..." That was to the tune of "Two Pina Coladas," in case you couldn't tell in writing.

Newspaper

I saw this newspaper laying on the ground today. It was on the sidewalk near a strip mall. It was in a blue plastic newspaper bag. Written on the bag was "Please Don't Steal." I couldn't tell who it belonged to. I kind of want to go back to see if there is another paper with the same description there tomorrow. And then maybe spy to see who takes it.

Quote Of The...

Every now and again I think I'll post a random quote that made me laugh. Possibly you can find a way to use it in your own life. So here's the first quote of the...

"F-ing freeloader...I hate him."

If that isn't funny to you, maybe you can think of someone who would fit the description in your life. And then it might be funny.

Apology

First a little background. My ex-husband--we'll refer to him as the E from now on--works in the hotel industry. Apparently the following note was left in one of the rooms in his hotel recently, and it is completely true. I swear. The description of the state of the room in the note was accurate. I know it's unbelievable that there is a person out there who would write this...

Food For Talk

Recently I was thinking about how whenever I talk to my parents we end up on the subject of food,generally what we are eating for dinner or what we ate for dinner the night before. For a little while, I thought that seemed like a fairly odd conversation topic. I mean, who really cares what we eat for dinner? It just seemed like a "why bother" sort of topic. But then I realized that I actually seem to talk about food with an awful lot of people who I don't see regularly. Dinner, lunch, or going out to eat seems to come up fairly often in all my conversations with my friends and family who live miles and miles away. And I like talking about it. So I came to two conclusions. 1) I am obsessed with food. This is highly likely, since I did decide that my family really does like to eat and drink and discuss what makes a meal good or bad. I was just raised to appreciate a good meal. 2) Talking about the more everyday sorts of things like meals makes us all feel a little closer to the ones who are 1500 miles away. It's like you are sharing a little part of their day and are nearer to them on account of it. You can picture them having vegetable soup for supper and feel good about it. So I'd say, if you don't talk about meals with your loved ones, I'd give it a shot. It's quite pleasant. Plus, it's very helpful if you can't decide what to eat for supper!

No Name

Not too long ago I got myself into a slightly awkward situation. I mean, not super-awkward or anything. Just a little bit. So, my name is rather unusual, and lots of times people find it hard to pronounce or hard to spell, whatever. Over the years I have gotten so many different variations on it. People call me Marcy, Marisa, Mary-say, Maurice, Mar-eess, Marisea, etc. Generally I just correct people and go on with it. But there are always a few who don't really even understand how to say my name after they hear it. They still keep calling me Meredith or Marcy, or anything that sounds sort of similar and makes sense to them. One time, after an entire semester of class in school, my dad tried to call the school to talk to my really intelligent instructor about me, and Mr. Brains couldn't even figure out who I was because he'd been calling me "Marcy" the entire time. I gave up trying to correct that guy after the first week of class. Roll call was so pleasant after that.
Mr. Brains---Marcy?
Maryse---Here.
(At that point everyone in the class who actually does know my name looks over at me, waiting for me to correct him. They seem to pity me when I don't, or at least think it is a little crazy that I've been defeated in the battle to get the instructor to understand that the "Y" actually comes before the "S" in my name. It gets slightly more pitiful each day of the semester.)
Okay, onto the more current story. The other day I went to drop something off at another department at work. I got over there and left the paperwork with a guy that I often see in that department. We do a little small talk here and there, and say "hi" when we happen to see eachother during the day, but we don't really know eachother. This time, he really decides to branch out. And he says, "Thanks Mar***, it was good to see you again." The thing is the "Mar***" was completely indecipherable. He could have said, "Maryse," maybe. But I really think he said, "Marcy." But I couldn't exactly correct him when I wasn't even sure that he said it wrong. So here I am again, with someone else calling me the wrong name, and no logical place to correct him. I'm sure the situation will develop into something more awkward in the future. He'll probably come over to my department with some paperwork for "Maryse," and then he'll ask where she is, and I'll be standing right there, and a co-worker will say I'm right there, and then he'll wonder why I never told him what my name really was. It should be fun.

Where's My Center?

I am sad to report that not too long ago, my favorite Avalanche player (his picture can be seen in an earlier post) decided to sign with the Flyers instead. It has taken me this long to recover from that enough to write about it. It's a particularly low blow because I almost had to murder some Flyers fans on the Metro after a Capitals game once. They had those thundersticks and just kept banging them and saying how the people in DC suck. Of course, the Flyers won, and the Caps lost, so did they expect us to be partying or something? Anyway, Peter Forsberg is gone, but I know we still have a great team. I'm currently in search of a new Av's shirt, since I really can't wear my Forsberg jersey anymore. Any suggestions because I haven't found anything wonderful online, and I want something by the time I go to the Av's/Kings game at the MGM in September?

Fakies

I know I shouldn't just make lists of things that bother me. And instead I should come up with things that I really like or that make me happy. But I just got reminded of something that really bothers me today. You know those shirts with vests or sweaters with collared shirts under them? Well, I hate the ones where it's a fake shirt underneath or a fake collar. It just really, seriously bothers me. What's the point of layering if you're not really layering? I know it is just supposed to look good, but I want it to look good and actually be functional. I don't know; maybe I have a psychosis about this.

Bear-y Scary

Okay, so it wasn't that scary, and that's a corny way to write a title, but it fits. I went camping in Mammoth Lakes a couple weekends ago. We almost got eaten by a bear. Seriously. Well, we were close enough to have gotten eaten by the bear, but really it was more interested in the other food around the campground. I'll try to paint a picture of what happened. P&AF and I spent the entire day at the Mammoth Lakes Brews and Blues Festival. I won't lie; I think we were both mainly there for the brews, though the blues were good too. So combine the altitude with lots of excellent microbrews, and you had two rather inebriated people making their way back to their campsite at the end of the day. Things got pretty crazy right away when we got back. P&AF got a nice fire going, and a storm came up. I was in heaven; we just don't get enough storms here in the good old Bay Area for me. Some kid from the campsite next to ours walked by and asked if the bear had crushed our tent. Considering the fact that the tent was, in fact, standing as it had been when we left, we just answered, "No," and thought it was a little bizarre. I mean, I know the tent is small, but did he really think that the bear had crushed it? The next thing we knew, the adult at the campsite next to ours told us that the bear had visited our campsite and tent earlier in the day, but he had made his way onto bigger and better things. So we were sitting there enjoying the fire and the storm, when all of a sudden aforementioned adult starts yelling, "BEAR! BEAR! BEAR!" And we look over to see one guy walking fairly close behind a rather large bear, with another guy and a group of about 10 kids aged 8-17 further back yelling and throwing rocks at the bear. The bear took off from them to the campsite directly in front of ours. It then made a nice little 90 degree turn and headed straight for us. Now possibly the great beer had something to do with it, but P&AF and I just sort of sat there and watched the whole thing happen. I think I muttered something about being scared or wondering whether we should move or not, but he just told me that it'd be fine and to just stay put. So we did. And the bear (I think they called him Einstein) came up to our tent, then sniffed around the picnic table, maybe 10 feet from us, then moved on to the box of wood sitting next to us, probably only 2-5 feet away from us, and then jogged on over to the campsite across from ours, where an abundance of food was just sitting out waiting for him. I never thought I would ever be that close to a bear. The group chasing the bear around with rocks came over near our campsite afterwards, all a little awestruck that we didn't move through the entire event. Here's a little picture of our campsite, just for reference as to how far from Einstein the bear we really were. We were sitting just behind the fire (not where we actually are in this picture, but opposite,) and the bear was sniffing around the cardboard by the trees. It was crazy!

As a sidenote, we also almost got struck by lightning immediately following the bear incident. Really, I almost had a heart attack. I think the beer might have saved my life, and that's not the first time. So, I guess the moral of the story is that there are people who might tell you that beer and bears don't mix, but I personally think it's a great combination.

Maximum Velocity

It really gets to me when people refuse to use the turn-out lanes on windy mountain roads. I was driving back through Yosemite last night, and more often than not people just refuse to get out of the way. I want to flash a big sign in their rearview mirror that says "Use the turn-out lane. You are obstructing traffic flow." And I'm not big on tailgating. I don't want to have to be on their ass for miles and miles before they finally figure it out. Seriously, if you have five cars backed up behind you, you need to get out of the way. I just think it is frustrating when you have a car that corners like a dream, and you keep having to brake to 5 mph on a 20 mph curve that could be taken at 30 mph pretty easily. Last night this conversation may have had a few more swears thrown in, but I've settled down today. Then again, it may not have been that bad; I was pretty relaxed driving through the park. It's hard not to be.

Nail Clippings

Once I was out to eat with my brother, and I got a hang nail. I keep a little knife in my purse, so I got out the knife and cut the hang nail off. My brother was thoroughly disgusted that I had more or less trimmed my nails at the table while were out at a restaurant. I thought about it and realized that it may have been a slightly tacky move. Of course, the alternative would have been to pick at the hang nail all through dinner (equally or possibly more disgusting,) or to be smart about it, get up go to the restroom and then cut the hang nail off. I promise that next time I'll use that approach. Anyway, the other day at the mall a cell phone sales associate totally beat my slightly trashy restaurant nail clipping, at least in my opinion. I walked by one of those kiosks that sells phones in the middle of the mall, and he was just standing there over the counter clipping his nails. And I don't mean just cutting off one little hang nail. I was actually attracted by the "clip, clip, clip" sound before I even saw it. He was just going to town giving himself a little manicure. Now, seriously, unless you work in a nails shop, do you really need to be doing your nails while on the job? As I was driving back from the mall, I decided that I really should have asked him about it. I think approaching people doing really strange, and relatively harmless activities like that, would be a smart move.

I Love Hockey!!!!

I'm sure you all must have seen that the NHL and the Players were able to agree on some terms to have an 05-06 season. This is very exciting to me. Hockey is my favorite sport. I am very excited about a majority of the new rules---minus the rules meant to keep fighting down, but I suppose, if it protects the hockey players and they don't want to fight, then I can deal. I read some funny rules too. The most important rule: Score a goal, chug a beer! I can't wait. So here is a picture of my hero, courtesy of the Avalanche website. (Don't worry I still love Brett Favre too; I just LOVE hockey!)

The More Later

So here it is. The "more later" that I promised last week. After FW&BF and I finished up our excitement with the Vitality Product People, we needed drinks, and we needed drinks badly. We noticed that the guys sitting at the table next to ours also were attempting to get drinks. You are probably thinking that getting drinks shouldn't be a difficult task at a relatively un-crowded bar with several bartenders. Unfortunately, these bartenders were just slightly inept. We even witnessed them setting the entire bar on fire at one point during the night. And, no, it wasn't supposed to happen that way. After one guy had an unsuccessful try at getting drinks, he came back to their table, and there was a little banter between us and them. They then offered to get us drinks as well. We figured it was karma, first we put up with the Vitality Crew, and then we are rewarded with nice guys who buy us drinks. So we all end up talking, and it's a fairly normal conversation. We make small talk, and eventually we go into what our occupations are. We learn that our drink-supplying friends are: 1) A Public Relations Person, 2) A Garbage Man, 3) A Salesman. The conversation is a little weird; especially when they get to the part about one of them being a salesman. There seems to be some sort of inside joke that we aren't catching. We get past it though, and we keep talking. Some time later into the evening, it comes out that there may have been a little lie involved in the conversation. The guys aren't actually in the previously stated fields. Oh no, they are in law enforcement. Apparently they try to hide this fact from people when they first meet them; it scares people off or something?? Okay then. We aren't scared (despite my police officer complex,) and we continue hanging out with them. Soon enough, they challenge us to a wager. Now, I'm not much of a betting girl, but it just so happens that the wager was about drinking. And when it comes to that, I have a pretty good amount of faith in myself. The bet was that we (FW&BF and I) had to each finish our pint of beer before one of the officers finished his two pints of beer and Grey Goose/cranberry juice. The loser had to pay for drinks the rest of the night. It sure seems like we'd win, right? As it turns out, the officer was a little bit of a fast drinker. He didn't even seem to think that beating us would be a challenge. We started the race, and he just continued sort of sipping on his drinks. And then next thing we knew a beer was gone. (At least I think that was the way it happened; honestly, the details are just a little foggy.) So, I chugged my beer. They were all fairly impressed, and that seemed to worry the officer who was drinking against us. So he hurried up. Unfortunately, FW&BF, not having the advantage of being from a state that pretty much breeds people who are good at drinking a lot, was just a tad behind him. (To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure who the winner is in this situation--can we really say it was the two drunks chugging beers??) So yeah, FW&BF and I lost, or she won, if you want to consider the drunk rule I just made up. But we didn't mind because it was all in good fun. We soon ended up sort of splitting off into me and the drinker and FW&BF and the cute officer. There was the third salesman officer, but somehow he seemed to be the designated fifth wheel. I decided to race the officers in drinking a couple more times, so I was feeling pretty darned happy with the evening. The officers were even offering to get us rides home in cop cars. That was an exciting prospect, since I had already resigned myself to the fact that I wouldn't be driving myself home. They said we could even sit in the back, be handcuffed, and have the lights on. It all sounded great to me at the time. What more could I want out of a night--I even got to play some Naked PhotoHunt, which I think is probably the best game on Earth--thanks to my brother's (B) gorgeous girlfriend (BGG) for introducing me to it, of course. And suddenly, about a half hour before bar time, our officers decided to leave. They took our phone numbers, and just walked out the door. We were left sitting there, wondering where our rides in the cop cars went. I know that FW&BF was looking stunning and that she had been funny and smart all night. And I'm fairly certain that I only said a few crazy and inappropriate things. We hypothesized that the officers were dragged away by the fifth wheel who was feeling left out. I think we both thought there was a chance that they'd still call sometime the following week. I mean, I was really looking forward to a promised trip to the shooting range and a ride-along to follow. We decided that we'd give it a week, and then we'd accept the fact that they just weren't that into us. And, well, the verdict is in, and they weren't into us. My only complaint now---I'm just jealous of FW&BF because she at least got to see cute officer's badge and gun. I got nothing!

Raise Loss

Recently everyone at work got a raise. The yearly "merit increase." Sounds good, right? Unfortunately in my case, my tax status also changed. Thus, my "merit increase" turned into a decrease of about $300/month. How wrong is that? I guess I should be thankful that there was a merit increase because otherwise I'd probably be making $400/month less. Today I am making a list of those items which I think I can do without. So far--Starbucks and Blockbuster get the ax.

On Tequila

I broke up with a guy on a message tonight. It's kind of sad. See, the thing is we weren't even going out, but somehow it was just too serious. I don't even know how it became that way or why, but it was. It was like, I said, "Let's just be friends," and then he said, "Okay, let's just be friends first, but then we're going to be lovers, and then get married, and then have lots of babies, and then move to Egypt." It wasn't good. So I broke up with his voicemail, even though we weren't dating. And I feel bad, I do. But what's a girl to do? Keep going out with a guy who obviously has hopes for a future relationship, when she knows there isn't any?

Full-Time Nightmares & Part-Time Dreams

On the night of the smoking pizza incident, FW&BF and I were out for drinks, as I'm sure you realized from previously described pizza incident. Our evening began to get interesting when we noticed a trio of suited folks walk into the bar. We immediately thought their attire was a little strange for a bar on a Saturday night, and what was even more odd about the whole thing was the way they immediately approached two women sitting at a table near the bar entrance. The women didn't appear to be involved in the event the suited trio took part in because they were both dressed in jeans and long-sleeved black tops. Soon enough, one of the guys in the suited trio left the bar, and the remaining man and woman approached FW&BF and I. The guy initially commented that we were sitting in the corner, and he didn't understand why. I didn't tell him, but my goal is always to be like Baby in Dirty Dancing, so that's why I chose the corner. Just kidding, just kidding, really I didn't even think we were in a corner at all. So they pulled up a couple chairs, and we got to chatting. You know, just about the usual, where we were all from, where we work, etc., etc., etc. We learned that the guy suit was from the midwest and played baseball for a community college or something. The woman appeared to be mute for the first 15 minutes of the conversation. Anyway, I know that there were certain signals during the entire discussion that should have told me that things were about to go awry, but I didn't really know it for certain until I heard the guy suit offer the catchphrase of the evening---"What I do, is I turn full-time nightmares into part-time dreams." Uh-huh. Yep. That's great buddy. Well you just turned this conversation into my personal nightmare. The next thing we knew they were trying to pull us into their little scheme of selling some sort of anti-aging wonder product. I think FW&BF got the worst of it because the mute jumped on her as soon as they got full-on into their pitch. I just sort of sat back in amazement, wondering if it all was actually happening. Finally they gave up to head off to another bar and catch some other unsuspecting souls. I bet they were depressed when they left because, at first, they probably thought they hit the jackpot with us. Two women working in the athletics field?? What better place to distribute their life-changing miracle maker! Luckily we just tore up their business cards when they left and managed to get the guys at the table next to us to buy us drinks for our suffering...more on that later.
And, of course, not to make a habit of this or anything, but I totally owe a birthday shout out to a friend back in the home state; we'll call her Marvelously Brilliant Mommy & Lawyer. So here goes--MBM&L Happy Birthday! (I know, I know the acronyms are getting out of control, but what are you going to do?)

Traffic Police

Traffic was out of control this morning for some reason. I don't have a long commute, maybe 10-15 minutes. This morning though, I got stuck at two separate lights for two cycles. That's not the funny thing though. See, there was some road construction along the way, and they had the right lane blocked off. But for some reason, there was a van that decided to weave through the cones and continue using the right lane. Eventually he came upon a rather large digger on his right, and he was afraid to pass it. He stopped, and a construction worker walked out in front of his van. The construction worker appeared to be a bit incredulous that the guy had bypassed the cones. He threw his arms up in the air in exasperation as if to say, "How could you ignore my orange cones? They were right there! You are disobeying the laws of the universe!!" There was a brief exchange of words, and then the light turned green and I had to miss the end of the show. I had to laugh though, because, seriously, who does just decide to dodge the orange cones in a minivan on the way in to work on a Tuesday? One more thing on this great morning---Happy Happy Birthday to P&AF!

Slight Miscommunication

On a Friday Ex-Wife receives a wedding invitation in the mail addressed to Ex-Husband and guest. He hasn't lived at the address for months. She calls him, a little upset after a long work day, to ask what's going on.

Ex-Wife: I got a wedding invitation in the mail today addressed to you and a guest. Could you please make sure that your family realizes that you don't live here anymore because I'd rather not get something like this again?

Ex-Husband: Jesus Christ. They know I don't live there. I don't know what's wrong with them. Sorry.

Ex-Wife (quietly): It's not your fault.

Ex-Husband (now angry and almost yelling): Did you just call me an asshole??!?!?

Ex-Wife: I've gotta go.

She hangs up.

Aussie Disaster

I came home just a tad intoxicated last night after a lovely night out in downtown San Jose. Along with my fabulously witty and beautiful friend, I consumed a few too many Foster's, I guess. Or maybe just the right amount, depending on your point of view. Anyway, at the end of our evening, FW&BF ended up giving me a ride home, since driving didn't seem to be in the cards for me. Of course, as she was driving, I kept thinking that I probably would have been just fine. So I arrived home at about two and decided that a frozen pizza was in order. I turned on the oven and threw in a pepperoni Tombstone. I set the timer, then went to sit down for some TV. I remember sitting there on the couch contemplating how I would cut my pizza. For some reason, it seemed very important at the time. Would it be slices like pie? Or would it be better to go with squares? I think I finally settled on squares, but I'm really not sure. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in my living room, a bit dazed, and smoke was pouring out of the oven. I ran into the kitchen to see that the clock said 4:00am. I quickly turned the oven off, and braced myself for the worst as I opened the oven door. I was envisioning a flaming pizza on the middle rack, and I just couldn't really figure out how I was going to get it out. Luckily, I just found a blackened, smoking pizza. I was able to get it out just fine, and the smoke filling the apartment soon dissipated. Of course, the smell is still hanging out today. So I leave you with 3 pieces of advice.
1) Do not cook your Tombstone for 2 hours. It doesn't turn out very well.
2) It's best to stick to foods you don't have to cook when you are intoxicated. I find Oreo's and milk, Cocoa Puffs, and Peanut Butter & Pickle Sandwiches (Thanks to P&AF) to all be suitable.
3) Don't think that you can drive after you've lost count of how many Foster's you've had. I remember being almost certain that I could make the drive home. Two hours and one slightly crunchy pizza later, and I had proven that driving may not have been my best option.

Monday News On Friday

If only Sandra Day O'Connor would stay just a few years more...
That is all.

Cherries and Blueberries

Much to my dismay, I was pulled over for the first time since moving to California today. Actually, I think I was pulled over for the first time since leaving Wisconsin. Both previous times I had the good fortune of not receiving a ticket of any sort. The first time I had a tail light out, and I totally deserved a ticket for another offense that we won't talk about right now, but the cop took pity on my sorry 17 year-old ass and sent me home to get a new tail light. I swear, that thing was always going out. The second time, I was definitely speeding down a County Highway on New Year's Eve, but the holiday, and the fact that I wasn't drunk driving, must have put the cop in a good mood, and once again I was let off with just a verbal warning. Back to today's story, I didn't figure that I'd have the same luck of not getting a ticket a third time. The thing is, I really didn't think that I had done anything that wrong. It's a little hard to explain the story without graphics, but the gist is that I ended up a little far out into an intersection at a traffic signal. So I got pulled over; I really should have known it would happen because there were about 8 million cops out today for some reason. So the officer came up to the window and asked me what happened. And I have this embarrassing complex where cops really just freak me out. So I was all shaking, and I couldn't tell my story properly for anything. So he took all my relevant information and went to his car to run it. He came back a few minutes later and informed me that generally, under the circumstances, they would issue a ticket for running a red light in this situation. But given my story, he'd let me off. Still all worked up in my officer-panic complex, I muttered some sort of "thanks" and "sorry." I'm guessing that it really paid off the way I fixed up my hair and lip gloss before he came back to the car to tell you the truth. Okay--I'm totally kidding there, totally kidding. I think he just thought I was a big moron. I do feel just a tad bit ripped off though, since I was not pulled over by Eric Estrada on a motorcycle. Or even just an officer on a motorcycle. Maybe next time. For now, thank you Mr. Officer for not making me pay $300.00 to the state of California. I really didn't mean to run the red light, and I promise to do better next time.

My Inspiration

In all honesty this probably should have been my first post. But what can I say; I'd hate to do anything in the order it was meant to be done in. This is the Furby that guarded the carport outside my apartment. He sat there for quite awhile, as you might be able to tell from his weathered appearance. For several days, I didn't actually even realize that he was a furby. I drew a picture of him, and I showed it to everyone I could think of. They all thought he looked familiar, but even with my incredible abilities in artistry, they couldn't place him. I then had a phone conversation with a predictable and amazing friend (that's half true,) and I described the creature to him. And right then and there, he just said, "Oh, that's a Furby." I was beyond impressed. So the creature became my Carport Furby. Sadly, not long ago, the Carport Furby disappeared. Hopefully he went traveling like that Gnome in Amelie or something. He will be missed.

If You Want To Move A Box

Courtesy of a strong and brilliant woman---a good friend of a good friend, of course!
I had to move a really heavy box the other day. I was wondering how I'd manage it by myself. Then I remembered an excellent box-moving technique for those who may not be able to lift their box alone, but are also determined not to ask for help. So, I pushed my box down two flights of stairs, end over end. And then down the sidewalk end over end. It's a lovely way to move a box that is simply too heavy to lift. Now, I'm not completely opposed to asking for help, so I do have to say thanks to the wonderful guy and exceptional woman who observed my box moving charade and then kindly offered their assistance, first getting the box into my car, and subsequently getting it into the postal store. But, if you want to go it alone, I highly recommend the end over end method, courtesy of S&BW. By the way, I've heard this method is also effective for moving large screen TV's.

Yum Yum Fly Salad

I once was eating a chicken tostada salad at a restaurant. I found a fly in said salad. Upon returning it to the cashier, she looked at the fly and responded, "Oh, yeah, that's from the lettuce." Comforting.