The Nighttime Is My Time

I'm really better suited to some sort of nefarious career path I think. Cat burglar, drug dealer, hooker, repoman, 7-11 clerk.
Do any of those occupations require employee evaluations?

Lysol Anyone?

It's not like these guys even bought me a drink at the bar first. Oh no, they just got their germy little hands all over my blog and ran like hell.

I think the worse thing about comment spam is how it raises false hope that maybe 13 people really did comment on your blog, and, given the ratio of readers to commenters, your site received nearly 150 hits today alone! It's just mean.

So yeah, my blog will no longer be a breeding ground for this communicable disease.

Because I Will Do Anything To Avoid Writing Employee Reviews

That's right, ANYTHING.
Send in your requests now!

I just spent nearly 2 hours sifting through my financial past in order to secure a financial future. Apparently it is law that your credit report be available to you at no charge. How could I resist watching myself mature as a credit-worthy individual?

The information was surprisingly accurate, although it lists my current place of employment somewhere I haven't punched a timeclock in over 7 years. It's nice to know I have no forgotten student loans to pay. Not so nice to find out Verizon is looking for me. I swear, I completely forgot about that account - it's been 5 years!

With only 2 payments to go on my car loan, it's time to start fantasizing. And that handy little FICO Score will help me adjust my aspirations accordingly. I guess that HUMMER will have to wait a few more years. Shucks oh darn.

Because I Find It Hard Not To Give It All Away

I am not known for in-depth, expressive book reviews. I have to keep my recommendations down to a 3-sentence maximum; a nut-shell synopsis or condensed cup-a-soup description. Gotta hook the buyer quickly before they lose interest!

So I don't do a lot of reviewing, despite reading quite a bit. However, if you'd like to peruse some insightful contemplations on written works (No Spoilers Added!) follow this link.

Casual (drug and pain induced) Friday Observation

Laundry is really all about underwear.

You've got your favorites, the newest ones, the cutest ones, the sexy black ones. Once those all hit the hamper, you move on to your basics, the "if I was in an accident, I wouldn't be too ashamed" pairs. Then, you've got the "oh man, I hate these" pairs.

And then, it's the back of the drawer, the "why didn't I go to Target on the way home, I should have known the laundry room would be in use AGAIN" pairs.

That's right, the granny panties.
The old fashioned ones that were either mis-sized or from a period in the evolution of your waistline you'd like to forget. The Urkel-esque ones that have an unintentional control top effect. And you know they're either white or beige.

Or perhaps, perhaps, it's a thong. That peer-pressure purchased pair of panties that you didn't even cut the tags off of, the ones that make you walk very, very carefully and make you uncomfortably aware of every seam and thread in the pockets of your jeans.

Hmm, an accidental girdle or a $15 string of dental floss?
Time to buy a roll of quarters, grab a magazine and sit through a few spin cycles.

These are due Monday? OK! SURE!

Oh boy.
Writing employee reviews on painkillers.
Oops - should I feel sorry for me, or them??
However, words like standards, potential, urgency, express, accomplish and foster have never been funnier.

Suddenly my dance card seems to be very full:

Get teeth yanked out of head at apparent inopportune time
Continue popping "may impair ability" pills
Help roommate move in
Write 2nd round of employee reviews
Get carpets cleaned
Get smog check, find insurance card and mail in registration (late)
Go through 8 page "Boss is Coming!" checklist
Have follow up visit with boss
Leave for weekend trip, accidentally scheduled over holiday weekend

Did I miss anything?

Maybe it's the new holes in my head.

So, I thought Vicodin was supposed to make me a frequent visitor to Sleepy Time, USA. The Mayor, Mr. Sandman, must be on a coffee break. Bet he's eating a scone too, that bastard with his ability to chew.

Not that I don't like the happy pills, but I was looking for a little shut eye too. So far all I've gotten is about an hour worth, which was interrupted with a troubling dream about European hotels and bathrooms. I'm not shaking hands with anybody between stalls, no matter how 'open-door policy' it all is.

I Want My Mommy

I don't want to go to the bad man tomorrow.
I'm a wussy girl; I don't like pain, nor being at the mercy of others.

I've never been knocked out before. I like to be in control; sleeping bothers me if I think too much about it. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and am really disconcerted, wondering what happened while I was dead to the world.

I'm pretty lucky, no surgery or stitches in my past. Pneumonia once and a really nasty knee ligament injury, but I was completely aware of what those doctors were doing.

Oh yes, I'm a whiney little B today, but that's because I'm nervous!
Ice cream is small consolation, my friends.

Also, any declarations, admissions, or confessions must not be held against me, no matter how amusing or scandalous. Thank you.

Deja View

I wanted to post tonight, however I got trapped in the past.

While rearranging furniture and books and such, I came across a box of old photos.

Ah, youth. There were a lot of floral print dresses going on in the 90s, weren't there? I think I spotted some spandex too, but we won't go there. And an overwhelming number of people, once so important to me, that I no longer know. But that's ok, I don't want to go back. Trust me.

I may have nightmares tonight. Not because I looked bad, but rather because I didn't know how good I looked.

Make a Wish

There will be no singing waiters this year, people.

Isn't it enough that there is a picture of me wearing a big sombrero while the staff of a Mexican restaurant sings a lawsuit-friendly rendition of Happy Birthday?

No? Damn. Alright, bring on the Mariachi band.

'Screaming Orgasms' For Everyone!

My friend told me I was edgy.
I wanted to take it as a compliment, but I'm pretty sure she meant I needed to lay off the caffeine. Think anyone would notice if I slipped a little rum in there at lunch time?

According to Hollywood, everyone goes through an "experimentation" phase. Well, I guess it's time for mine.

In order to develop my palate beyond "Diet or Regular", I need to start learning about wine. How to pronounce it, which to order when and so on. I've got a few standards I order at the bar, but the wine thing throws me, and I'm just not comfortable asking the bartender for "Sex on the Beach" when my boss is standing right there. At least not until she's half loaded too.

I've got a week-long social engagement (otherwise known as a business conference) coming up and feel the need to play with the big girls this year, instead of asking the waitstaff for a Coke. It's silly, I know, but being the youngest at these things, I feel at a disadvantage already and want a little boost.

If it doesn't have a dirty name, I just don't know much about it.

My Mother Scrapbooked the Love Letters I Got From a Boy in First Grade

I had a Voltron coloring book in first grade; my nemesis at the time had Barbie. Guess who the boys wanted to color with during free time? That's right. Too bad I used all my moves back in elementary.

I will also admit to liking the Justice League, but have very below average understanding of who's who and the undercurrents and mingled storylines.

I'm waiting for an R-rated version, because you know those superheroes must have crazy hormonal urges. If I had to work with Hawkgirl, I know I would. Talk about an impressive wingspan.

A Day No Teeth Would Die

My first day off in 11 days, and I don't even get to sleep in before some guy starts poking around inside my mouth.

I'm referring to the dentist of course, tsk tsk.

I love my dentist, almost as much as I fear what he can do with those drills. He has a super snazzy x-ray machine, where the image is immediately shown on a computer, kinda like at the picture studio. His office is clean, his staff friendly, I'm never kept waiting and there's a big window in the exam room with a lovely view. Usually.

Today there was a view of a swarm of bees hovering around a tree.

Nothing like a mass of flying insects to soothe your nerves while you wait. And those windows didn't even have screens! Are they crazy?!

During the random minutes of down time I leafed through the August 8th issue of Newsweek. I should have asked to take it home. There were a couple of good articles in there I could have used for blogging. I'll have to see if I can get my hands on a copy to reference it.

So between the swarming insects, the pictures of meth lab burn victims from the Newsweek cover story and my own vivid imagination, I was ready for the worst. Foot long needles, pliers, blood-splattered lab coats and my throat raw from screaming. Instead, I got a referral to an oral surgeon. Apparently all the wisdom teeth gots to go, and he doesn't do any cutting in the office.

I'm both relieved and dreading another visit to a different dentist. While the pain is considerably less right now, I know it could flare up any time. But you gotta do what you gotta do. I've never had any kind of surgery or been under anesthesia before, so they may need to prescribe some Zoloft along with the Vicodin.

This dentist office is situated right above a Starbucks. It's a great segue into teeth whitening for them. I do love the smell of coffee. It's also about a 1/4 mile from Krispy Kreme, so I made a silent promise to my dentist to go home and brush as I went through the drive thru.

It amused me, but that could have been the sugar.

Secret Handshake and Tie Required

Being a night owl, I have dreams of one day living in a 24 hour world. With stipulations of course.
I love the solitude of the late night and don't want to create a 3rd shift existence; too many people to spoil the mood. But it would be nice if I could get Chinese food at 3 am, and hit the bookstore afterward. Denny's and Walmart just aren't doing it for me any more.

Since I tend to keep odd working hours, I drive through town after midnight a few times a week. And I'm pretty sure there's a secret society lurking beneath the consumer surface. Or the local mob.

I pass by a Peruvian restaurant, and regardless of the time of night, there are well dressed people at the entrance of the dim building. The sign isn't lit, there are very few lights on, but there's always a group of people going in and out and milling around as if waiting for a Christening to start. It's a mix of business casual and Sunday best dress, and everyone is smoking or talking on cell phones.

While dressed appropriately, I feel I may need a special invitation to join the party.

Occasionally, when I "miss" my turn and end up by the Krispy Kreme, I witness very similar proceedings at a Japanese restaurant. Here you can see inside however, and there is always a crowd of people eating and laughing in perfect commercial fashion. Again, very well dressed, but I've noticed they keep the door locked, and one guy stands guard, letting people in and out.

I'm intrigued.... and a little hungry.

Pain Really Isn't My Thing

Already cutting calories, what with the whole not able to chew business, why not do some real exercise?

..... 6o minutes of legs, arms and power stretching later.....

And I thought my tooth hurt - ha.

Open Up and Say "Ow"

Atkins too restrictive? The Zone too complicated? Slim Fast too liquidy? Have I got the diet for you!

The My-Wisdom-Tooth-Is-Killing-Me-Slowly-And-Painfully Diet.
The name is a little long, but all you really need to do is moan and hold the side of your face; people will understand.

This is my third wisdom tooth, but first time on the diet.
(Although I did try the 3-day root canal diet once, which is great right before a big event.)

How does the diet work?
As the pressure the incoming wisdom tooth puts on your jaw and other teeth increases, your ability to chew will decrease. Today I consumed sugar-free pudding, cheese and water. Who knows, tomorrow it could be all liquids! I'll be dropping pounds in no time!

Seriously, 4 more days of work, and 4 more days until my dentist appointment; I'm not sure there's enough Aleve in the world.

Ibuprofen is a gateway painkiller.
I've got to score something stronger.

Would You Even Have To Think About It?

Whom do you love more: Your spouse or your children?
(hypothetically speaking, or if you've got a full house, either way)

We bear and raise children, and while it's an unconditional love, it's a completely separate love than what we feel for our spouse. And isn't that what we want, for our children to find the person that will love them most of all?

There's a point when we don't turn first to our parents, when they aren't our end-all and be-all, and that's when we realize someone else has taken over that coveted spot in our hearts and has become a greater necessity.

(All this is generally speaking, and since I do not yet have children, perhaps my viewpoint will change drastically, I'll let you know. And while I do not believe you must have a spouse/partner to be happy and complete, I do think it's a wonderful thing to find someone who makes your world even better.)

Ayelet Waldman (yes, I'm still talking about her) has a Dooce-like quality about her, but less conversational, more debate/essay like. Still surprisingly honest however, and I wish I was willing to put myself out there like that. But I guess this isn't that type of blog.

Sometimes I'm tempted to start a whole series of blogs, for the various aspects of my life. But shouldn't I be able to put it all under one roof?

Now I Must Check Out Their Books

Perhaps because I was not on a hunt, the discovery of a couple of honest, smart cookies is all the more reason for celebration.

You may have seen the article on Ayelet Waldman in the current issue of Entertainment Weekly, but her old blog and her new Salon stuff is worth a looksie.

Just one more reason to not judge a book by it's cover, Elaine Viets made me perk up my ears.

5 days down, 6 more to go

(This installment of 'Being Salary Sucks' is brought to you by Vivarin, in partnership with Coke AND Pepsi.)

SICK

"I cannot go to school today,"

Said little Peggy Ann McKay,

"I have the measles and the mumps,

A gash, a rash, and purple bumps.

My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,

I'm going blind in my right eye.

My tonsils are as big as rocks,

I've counted sixteen chicken pox

And there's one more--that's seventeen,

And don't you think my face looks green?

My leg is cut, my eyes are blue--

It might be instamatic flu.

I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,

I'm sure that my left leg is broke--

My hip hurts when I move my chin,

My belly button's caving in,

My back is wrenched,

my ankle's sprained,

My 'pendix pains each time it rains.

My nose is cold, my toes are numb,

I have a sliver in my thumb.

My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,

I hardly whisper when I speak.

My tongue is filling up my mouth,

I think my hair is falling out.

My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,

My temperature is one-o-eight.

My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,

There is a hole inside my ear.

I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?

What's that? What's that you say?

You say today is---Saturday?

G'bye, I'm going out to play!"

~Shel Silverstein~

Curled up in a ball in the corner...

I'm a smart girl; scored well on standardized tests, top 10% of my graduating class, a respectable IQ.

But please, please, make the time travel show stop!
Make the crazy talk stop!
::rocking back and forth, humming loudly::

I just can't wrap my head around it; there's a total mental block. I could no more debate the scientific possibilities of time travel than I could the joys of reading Dante's Inferno in the original Italian.

It's not that I'm anti-sci fi/fantasy, it's just that it makes my head hurt. I'm just not wired for it, or at least refuse to make the connection.

I do, however, have The Time Traveler's Wife in my teetering to-be-read pile. That's more my speed I think.

Never Stop Learning

Word-a-Day Calendar Selection: Convivial
Relating to, occupied with or fond of feasting, drinking, and
good company.
See: Cindy

Urban Dictionary Addition: Boozebag
Someone who consumes copious amounts of alcohol and
remains unaffected.
See: someone other than Cindy

Someone Else Can Be In Charge For a While

Anybody need a personal assistant or secretary?

I'm a fast typist and my 10 key is quite excellent.
I can make coffee, work the copy machine, answer phones, send faxes, sort mail, run errands. I'll even walk your dog. My resume is on Monster, or I can email you direct.

I'm looking for about 40k/year, so I guess I'll throw in light housework, laundry, and sexual favors. But we'll need to agree on some boundaries. What's a good 'safe word'?

Not Approved by the FCC

Here's the condensed version of my arrival home.

Thinking to self:
Really Bad Parkers need to go back to driving school.
Does he really need that much room to get out of his car?
I think not.
Good grief, could he be more crooked?

:::scccrrraaaapppe:::

Yelling out loud:
OH! YOU ASSHOLES! YOU F*CKERS!
LEARN TO F*CKING PARK!
I SCRAPED MY CAR YOU DUMBASSES! AFTER 4 ACCIDENT FREE YEARS, I TRY TO AVOID HITTING YOUR STUPID ALTIMA AND INSTEAD GET A HUGE GASH OF WHITE PAINT ON MY CAR! YOU BETTER HOPE YOUR DOORS ARE LOCKED! I SHOULD KEY YOUR F*CKING CAR, SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT, YOU OBNOXIOUS, PRISSY ASS JERKS!
YOU SUCK! I SWEAR TO GOD I AM SO PISSED RIGHT NOW!

Luckily for them, with a little water and delicate fingernail scratching, the white paint comes off. I left no green behind on the pole.

I did, however, wake up half the complex.
It's not good to keep things bottled up you know.

Laundry Night

The fireman next door is having sex, the couple next to him are watching porn, and the guy downstairs is taking a shower.

Number 22 is watching her son do homework and Number 24's husband took the parking spot. Again.

The Dude is watching a kung fu movie with the volume up high, and the cute little old couple is playing Scrabble, I kid you not.

Number 20 is cooking something delicious as usual, and Number 18 is taking out the trash.

Number 9 is standing in his doorway, shirtless, smoking a cigarette, leering. Like. He. Always. Does.

On the south side the Really Bad Parkers are carrying up groceries, and the New Agey Lady is reading, burning incense and listening to Stevie Nicks.

It's not my fault they leave their windows and doors open, now is it?

And you thought "Operation" was nerve-wracking.

TV shows are formulaic. You know what you're getting into when you sit down for a particular sitcom, drama or reality-based program.

So watching House tonight, it was no surprise that there was a mysterious set of symptoms, a dash of hospital politics, and a "By Jove!" ending.

It's kind of like a mystery novel; depending on the writer, the reader can either solve the case along with the detective, or else be handed a solution all gift-wrapped with a bow.

Perhaps there should be "House: The Home Edition" or an internet version. As symptoms become known, the viewer can start comparing and matching, narrowing down possible diseases or viruses. Frantic clicking through online medical journals, consulting the Merck Manual.

Dizziness, lesions, difficulty breathing? Is he taking any medications? Could it be an allergic reaction? Do we have family medical history? Where's the bloodwork, the MRI? I said STAT people, STAT! How much did it cost to have that medical license printed, you incompetent fool?

You could even wear a white lab coat! Interactive television on a whole other level beyond voting via your touchtone phone.

I don't think my attention span could handle the stress however. I tried watching House and Gilmore Girls while reading a book and surfing the web. If I had to make life and death decisions at the same time, I might feel a tad overextended.

Calm, Cool and Collected

No one warned me about the Marine Layer.

I moved out here, completely unaware that at any given moment Southern California could be swallowed whole by a rolling, gray, enveloping mass. An evil fog, slithering from the coast, obliterating everything in its path. Like someone breathing wetly on your neck, rubbing against you in a cold and clammy attempt at seduction.

Oh wait, that was my ex-boyfriend.

The first time I saw it, I stood outside, in true dumb horror movie chick fashion, mouth agape, as the fog rolled down the hill and settled in the valley the parking lot made. I kept asking people, "What is this?" and "Is this normal?"

After 6 years I've grown to love the Marine Layer, looking forward to its extended stay for June Gloom and the occasional surprise visit. I was pleased to wake up this morning to an overcast sky, a cool breeze and a slightly damp feel to the air. All the promise of rain, without the payoff, but it's still soothing to my East Coast soul.

I'm actually writing this post with slippers on! It's enough to make me want a cup of hot chocolate or a bowl of soup. Almost.