things i do while on conference calls:
- file my nails
- pay bills
- check email
- send text messages
- make grocery/target lists
- make to do lists
- work on other projects
- play snood
- eat
- stay silent when asked a question (they'll think they lost me somehow)
- instant message
- shop online
- draw on my notes
- organize my office
- spin in my chair
- pretend i have a bad connection and hang up early
- make faces at colleagues
- blog
hey, you gotta pass the time somehow. you can tell i'm on a call right now, can't you?
Apr 25, 2007
Apr 22, 2007
it's flip cup time in the city
this weekend marked an unofficial holiday for all of us adults who like to revel once a year in the behavior of college days past. as april 21 neared, we dusted off the plastic cups, assumed our fighting stances at our tables and practiced the one sip, one flip method that would lead only one team to flip cup victory. saturday dawned warm and sunny - a perfect day for drinking - nay, chugging - beer. people across the chicago area pulled on festive t-shirts promoting team names like "cirrhosis not fibrosis", "chug, set, flip", "mother fuckin' booze time", "team banana hammock", "pink tacos", "what the flip?", "e=mc hammered", "team dick in a box", "flippin' sexy beer monsters" and many, many more. we flocked to the bar, slapped on the wristbands and waited anxiously for the tournament to begin. some drank ahead of time, some huddled and talked strategy, some lined up at the tables and practiced their last minute flipping skills. and suddenly it was 2:30 - teams had been checked in, the schedule of play posted, beer poured, and players flanked the tables, ready to flip to their hearts' content. the event was a huge success and everyone (that one stupid complaining idiot bitch so does not count) had a great time and we raised over $3000 for the cystic fibrosis foundation.
sadly, my team didn't even make it out of pool play, but we were able to cheer on our friends who made it to the final. even better than the event itself was something that happened later. post flip cup, several of us wandered over to another bar to sit outside, drink more and enjoy the gorgeous weather. at one point in the evening, annie, aka flip cup organizer extraordinaire, called her nephew ryan who has CF and has been the inspiration for this event, now in it's third year. he thanked her for what she was doing and everyone at the table was in tears. as much as we all have fun talking smack, coming up with crazy team names, and getting completely wasted mid-day, this reminded us all of the real reason behind the event. we're flippin for a cure.
thanks, annie, for all of your hard work again this year. we had a fantastic time! and if anyone has a doubt about that, see pics below.....
Apr 18, 2007
why, gap, why??
i had one of the single most annoying shopping experiences of my life today. i left work a little early and decided on a whim to stop into the gap to get myself a new pair of jeans. typically i absolutely hate shopping for jeans - they're always too long, too big in the waist, too tight on my butt, etc. - but the roommate just recently found some really cute ones at gap, so i decided to take my chances there.
i wandered to the back of the store where an entire wall is devoted to jeans. low-rise, boot cut, boyfriend, curvy, short, extra long, dark, distressed, faded.... you name it, there was a shade and style of denim to fit it. unfortunately there wasn't a pair that would fit ME. i started sifting through the pristinely folded pants and immediately noticed a pattern. all of the jeans seemed to come only in sizes 0, 2, and 4, many of which were also long lengths. i started rummaging with a fury, convinced that the gap wouldn't betray me like this and only carry jeans that fit tall stick figures (think 6 foot praying mantis in gap denim). after unearthing one size 8 and one size 10 (both in horrific shades of stonewash that didn't even look like they belonged with all of those dark, tiny jeans) i gave in to the truth. there were only little people sizes at the gap. i stepped back from the shelves crammed with all of those jeans and sighed. i thought briefly that i had inadvertantly wandered into the children's section. nope. regular womens section it was. shaking my head in disappointment, i felt my excitement for shopping deflate like a balloon. turning my back on the traitorous denim wall, i hung my head and walked dejectedly out of the store, not even noticing or caring anymore about the massive sale going on or the cute ballet flats i was eyeing when i first arrived.
did i think about asking the sales people if they had normal girl sizes? yeah, for about 2 seconds and then that scene from pretty woman where the snotty sales women won't help julia roberts flashed through my mind. it could have gone something like this....
me: um, excuse me. do you have any of these jeans in bigger sizes?
gap twiglet: (blank stare) um, why?
me: because right now in order to wear any of those jeans, i would have to buy two pairs and sew them together.
gap twiglet: (with look of disdain) i don't think we have anything in your size. marcus! do you think we have anything in her size?
gap mo: (sashaying over from where he was folding tank tops, gives a once over, frowns, folds arms) oh honey, no. we only like our clothes to be seen on tiny people. lane bryant is right across the hall.
me: fuck you.
it just wouldn't have been pretty. maybe i'll give a different location a chance, but i'm pretty sure i'll never venture into that particular store again. the last thing a girl needs when she's trying to find a pair of jeans that fits well and makes her ass look great is to be mocked by 100 pairs of jeans that can be worn only by roughly 5% of the female population. come on gap. i'd love to fall into your jeans, i just don't want to have to give myself an eating disorder to do so.
i wandered to the back of the store where an entire wall is devoted to jeans. low-rise, boot cut, boyfriend, curvy, short, extra long, dark, distressed, faded.... you name it, there was a shade and style of denim to fit it. unfortunately there wasn't a pair that would fit ME. i started sifting through the pristinely folded pants and immediately noticed a pattern. all of the jeans seemed to come only in sizes 0, 2, and 4, many of which were also long lengths. i started rummaging with a fury, convinced that the gap wouldn't betray me like this and only carry jeans that fit tall stick figures (think 6 foot praying mantis in gap denim). after unearthing one size 8 and one size 10 (both in horrific shades of stonewash that didn't even look like they belonged with all of those dark, tiny jeans) i gave in to the truth. there were only little people sizes at the gap. i stepped back from the shelves crammed with all of those jeans and sighed. i thought briefly that i had inadvertantly wandered into the children's section. nope. regular womens section it was. shaking my head in disappointment, i felt my excitement for shopping deflate like a balloon. turning my back on the traitorous denim wall, i hung my head and walked dejectedly out of the store, not even noticing or caring anymore about the massive sale going on or the cute ballet flats i was eyeing when i first arrived.
did i think about asking the sales people if they had normal girl sizes? yeah, for about 2 seconds and then that scene from pretty woman where the snotty sales women won't help julia roberts flashed through my mind. it could have gone something like this....
me: um, excuse me. do you have any of these jeans in bigger sizes?
gap twiglet: (blank stare) um, why?
me: because right now in order to wear any of those jeans, i would have to buy two pairs and sew them together.
gap twiglet: (with look of disdain) i don't think we have anything in your size. marcus! do you think we have anything in her size?
gap mo: (sashaying over from where he was folding tank tops, gives a once over, frowns, folds arms) oh honey, no. we only like our clothes to be seen on tiny people. lane bryant is right across the hall.
me: fuck you.
it just wouldn't have been pretty. maybe i'll give a different location a chance, but i'm pretty sure i'll never venture into that particular store again. the last thing a girl needs when she's trying to find a pair of jeans that fits well and makes her ass look great is to be mocked by 100 pairs of jeans that can be worn only by roughly 5% of the female population. come on gap. i'd love to fall into your jeans, i just don't want to have to give myself an eating disorder to do so.
Apr 16, 2007
the tax man cometh
wooo hoooo!! 11:16pm on april 16 and i have finished my taxes - an entire 24 hours and 44 minutes before the actual deadline this year, i might add. just for fun, another comic from explosm.net. oh how i love them.
rest in peace
this is an actual plaque mounted on a bench somewhere in the south bank area of london. nice to know i'm not the only one mourning the much desired, yet deceased notion of finding a good guy...
Apr 8, 2007
Apr 6, 2007
a dear sean letter...
dear sean,
i know you will find this letter to be a surprise given the fact that we have not been in contact at all for a couple of years and broke off our relationship over 6 years ago. time is a funny thing - it makes you forget certain things and people and softens your views on bad experiences from the past. it often makes you nostalgic for people and events and helps you look back on situations and relationships as learning experiences from which you gleen wisdom and appreciation. i would like to say that when i look back at the nearly 5 years we dated, i remember that time fondly and focus only on the good times; that when i look back i remember us as silly college kids having fun and falling in love. but i can't. maybe i did for a while, when time had dulled the memories of our arguing, the break-ups, the disrespect you showed me. but something new has come to light, something that just made the real memory of our relationship rear its ugly head.
i now know with 100% certainty that you did, indeed, cheat on me while we were dating. all of those times i suspected it and heard vague rumors that couldn't really be substantiated, you made me feel like i was crazy and jealous and overdramatic. you mindfucked me into believing you and i bought right into it. stupid, on my part, i know but i loved you and wanted to believe that you wouldn't intentionally hurt me. and here it is over 6 years after our breakup and you're still hurting me, still making me feel stupid. when i heard that you got a blowjob from a certain nasty skank on your trip to new orleans - the trip you took when we were dating seriously, the trip you lied to me about when i asked if any girls went, the trip where you did god only knows what else besides let that whore go down on you - i felt like i had been kicked in the stomach. all of the hurt, frustration, anger, and disrespect i felt when we were dating came rushing back to me in full force. i didn't show it, of course. you are certainly not worth the energy it would have taken for me to express any or all of those emotions. i gave up wasting my energy on you years ago. so i sat there, shaking my head and rolling my eyes, calling you many names of the fuckwad, dickhead, idiot-moron-with-no-soul variety and pretended it didn't bother me in the least because, after all, what's done is done. but now i know for sure that you lied to me and i wasn't crazy for worrying about you cheating on me and that all of those times you tore me down, you should have been apologizing for being a bastard.
i hate that i even let it get to me. i hate that you still can hurt me after all these years. and i hate that i let you do that to me - then and now.
i know you've changed, grown up and apologized many times for the way you treated me back then. and i appreciate that about you. but those apologies can never change how badly you treated me, no matter how much time tries to dull the edges of those sharp, bitter memories that have carved a permanent hollow in me.
i don't wish you unhappiness. i just wish you hadn't caused me so much.
andrea
i know you will find this letter to be a surprise given the fact that we have not been in contact at all for a couple of years and broke off our relationship over 6 years ago. time is a funny thing - it makes you forget certain things and people and softens your views on bad experiences from the past. it often makes you nostalgic for people and events and helps you look back on situations and relationships as learning experiences from which you gleen wisdom and appreciation. i would like to say that when i look back at the nearly 5 years we dated, i remember that time fondly and focus only on the good times; that when i look back i remember us as silly college kids having fun and falling in love. but i can't. maybe i did for a while, when time had dulled the memories of our arguing, the break-ups, the disrespect you showed me. but something new has come to light, something that just made the real memory of our relationship rear its ugly head.
i now know with 100% certainty that you did, indeed, cheat on me while we were dating. all of those times i suspected it and heard vague rumors that couldn't really be substantiated, you made me feel like i was crazy and jealous and overdramatic. you mindfucked me into believing you and i bought right into it. stupid, on my part, i know but i loved you and wanted to believe that you wouldn't intentionally hurt me. and here it is over 6 years after our breakup and you're still hurting me, still making me feel stupid. when i heard that you got a blowjob from a certain nasty skank on your trip to new orleans - the trip you took when we were dating seriously, the trip you lied to me about when i asked if any girls went, the trip where you did god only knows what else besides let that whore go down on you - i felt like i had been kicked in the stomach. all of the hurt, frustration, anger, and disrespect i felt when we were dating came rushing back to me in full force. i didn't show it, of course. you are certainly not worth the energy it would have taken for me to express any or all of those emotions. i gave up wasting my energy on you years ago. so i sat there, shaking my head and rolling my eyes, calling you many names of the fuckwad, dickhead, idiot-moron-with-no-soul variety and pretended it didn't bother me in the least because, after all, what's done is done. but now i know for sure that you lied to me and i wasn't crazy for worrying about you cheating on me and that all of those times you tore me down, you should have been apologizing for being a bastard.
i hate that i even let it get to me. i hate that you still can hurt me after all these years. and i hate that i let you do that to me - then and now.
i know you've changed, grown up and apologized many times for the way you treated me back then. and i appreciate that about you. but those apologies can never change how badly you treated me, no matter how much time tries to dull the edges of those sharp, bitter memories that have carved a permanent hollow in me.
i don't wish you unhappiness. i just wish you hadn't caused me so much.
andrea
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