things I shouldn't admit, part I

Let's get right to the focus of today's post: I have become a (very) satisfied viewer of Rock of Love.

Oh, you're not familiar with the show? Really? Well, it follows a reality show formula I'm sure you love as much as I do. It all started with The Bachelor years ago, and it has produced an impressive group of mutant offspring ever since.

The recipe...

Combine the following with alcohol and scripted emotional drama:

1 part washed up male celebrity from the past "looking for love" (aka - looking for a desperate, pride-punishing career rebirth)

1 part former and/or current strippers, bartenders, and Hooters waitresses "looking for love" in a fight to win the heart of the washed up celebrity (aka - looking for a more direct career path into porn)

It's totally fake, it's a little disgusting and it's humiliating for everyone involved. In other words, it's great TV.

The show is on VH1 and the washed up male celebrity is a well-aged Bret Michaels, lead singer of an early 90's hair metal band we should all be grateful is actually still together, Poison. It's a real throw back to my teen years. When other junior high school girls were pining for the New Kids on the Block, I was taping a poster of Poison on my bedroom wall. The daydreams of other 15 year-olds were filled with Dylan and the boys from 90210; visions of mediocre musicians with long blond locks, lip gloss and tight vinyl pants danced around in elaborate displays of pyrotechnics in my head.

And while I did outgrow that teen obsession, the fond memories of a bygone era and an affection for a so-bad-it's-good guitar ballad certainly do remain. Toss in the appeal of really trashy reality television with those hair metal fantasies of my youth - and what you end up with is a show I'm tuning in to on a fairly regular basis; and no, I'm not proud of it.

They say admitting you have a problem is the first step on the path to recovery. I feel better already.

when Mary Kay attacks

I have a deep love for discount stores. When work is busy or if I'm just feeling stressed, I like to bargain shop. I don't have to buy anything - it's the thrill of the hunt. Some like to eat good food. Some like to get a massage. Some drink. I like to walk into a store full of out of season discount clothing and housewares, dig around in the chaos for a while, and leave feeling like I'm a little wiser for knowing where you can get slightly damaged Ralph Lauren sheets for $29.99.

So, yesterday I went to TJ Maxx. If you're familiar with TJ Maxx (or Marshall's or Loehmann's - they're all the same), you know that the store is bare bones. Aisles are packed, and they're close together. It's not often that more than one person can really stand in one aisle together comfortably.

Understanding these logistics, it's clear why a woman suddenly standing very close to me while I was on the skirt aisle took me by surprise. And when she touched my shoulder, it was all the more shocking.

WOMAN: "I'm sorry...but I just HAVE to know what you do for a living."

SNAKE: "Uh...I work for a museum. I'm a fund raiser."

WOMAN: "Well, I saw you and I just HAD to tell you about how I've been making SO more money this year!"

The thing is, before she spoke, I knew who she was and what she was up to. I know because I've found myself in this situation more than once. I, a private citizen and discount shopper, was being attacked by a Mary Kay sales stalker.

I started experiencing this phenomenon when I moved to Atlanta. It always used to happen to me in Target. For a solid two years, I was stalked and assaulted on nearly a bi-monthly basis by a Mary Kay woman while shopping. They would always be overdressed for the surroundings (dress, heels, hair, lots and lots of makeup) and they would troll through the store, sniffing out their prey. They would sneak up on me, introduce themselves in this "really, I've never done this before!" kind of a way, and tell me that they simply HAD to know what I did for a living. They would then launch into their speech about how much more money they've been making selling Mary Kay, and they just KNOW I would have the same success. Wouldn't I like to receive one of their informational packets in the mail? And I would always so "no thanks", and they would walk away and attack some other poor gal on the other side of the store.

To be fair, in the work I do as a fund raiser, I know how hard it is to ask for things from strangers. Selling anything is hard work. I have to give these women some credit; it takes more than a little chutzpah to just walk up to a woman on the tampon aisle of Target and deliver to her an impassioned speech about the benefits of selling Mary Kay. Having said this, I also think it's obnoxious and borderline insane. I'm not dissing Mary Kay - but does the company really endorse this "stalk and attack" sort of tactic to recruit women into their ranks?

I have learned one way to stop the conversation quickly and politely is to say, "I have a friend who sells Mary Kay." I said this to my TJ Maxx captor and like magic, the forced smile left her face, she snatched her business card back out of my hand and semi-scolded me with, "We don't like to step on each other's toes. You should have said something sooner." She wouldn't even let me keep her card. Cheap.

So ladies, next time you're milling around your favorite discount store - don't let your guard down too far; there could be a Mary Kay lady hiding in the underpants bin.

if you give a boy a musket

My sister has two sons, and I love them. They are cute and they are funny. Of course, they do act up sometimes, but it's easy to see beyond their occasional wayward behavior and adore them anyway. Boys will be boys.

But, they are "mine" - in the sense that they are my nephews, part of my family. In the same way I imagine I would feel about the children (or child...) I would like to have one day - my nephews have my unconditional affection.

Other children, not as much. Show me some kid I don't know making a scene in the grocery store, and my patience is paper thin. I will, without thinking, inevitably give the child a dirty look. It's not fair of me, but it's the truth. And occassionally, I have an encounter with bad kids that disgusts me so deeply, I'm tempted to take two birth control pills in one day.

Throughout the summer there are day camps for elementary-aged children at the museum where I work. I never cross paths with these groups on most days, but on Friday I decided to take a walk - leave the office and stroll across the campus, get a little sunshine, see what those cute kids are up to.

As I approached the area where I knew the campers were, I heard a steady stream of shrieking, screaming without pause. The kids were getting a lesson in how soldiers during the civil war might have used a musket (it's a history museum - which I guess makes teaching 9 year-olds how to handle a firearm somehow make sense....) It was a group of about ten kids, all seemingly under age 12 and by the time I got close enough to really see what was going on, the kids had total control. Their camp teacher - a chubby college guy wearing a Confederate soldier costume about 3 sizes too small - had dropped his musket and was just yelling at the kids to sit down, pleading with them to pay attention to him. The kids had tuned him out completely, kids running in every direction out of their minds. One bigger boy had a toy musket in his hand, chasing the others. He kept calling one of the other kids a "dumbass". I turned around, and hauled it in the other direction as if I was abandoning a crime scene - the echo of children's laughter and profanity fading softly into the distance.

I visited my nephews this weekend, and my love of kids was renewed. We had a good time and I enjoyed how well-behaved they were. But then again, they didn't have muskets.

she almost had my vote

I'm always happy when I see Bill Clinton on TV. I am also happy when I hear Journey. You can imagine how I felt when I saw Hillary Clinton's new TV spot. Bill walks into a diner (they were spoofing on The Sopranos, but that was lost on me), and Hillary is waiting for him in a booth. "Don't Stop Believing" is playing in the background.

I'll touch briefly on this, but I should share that I believe Steve Perry is the ultimate light-rock frontman. (I won't say he's the ultimate rock frontman, because we all know that's a three-way tie between Mick Jagger, Freddie Mercury, and David Lee Roth.) Having established this point, it goes without saying that I also hold Journey up as the ultimate light-rock band. Chicago, Air Supply, REO Speedwagon? No thanks. There's only room for one winner here.

I was especially excited because the Hillary presidential campaign has been pushing a "let's get the young people into it" stunt in recent weeks by asking folks to vote online for the new Clinton campaign theme song. Among the totally unappealing choices were two overused U2 songs and something awful by Shania Twain. But when I heard "Don't Stop Believing" at the start of the commercial, I thought - for one brief moment - that maybe, just maybe Hillary could be my next President afterall.

But I was wrong. It turns out some Celine Dion song won the vote, thereby losing my support entirely. I don't know if Barack Obama has considered a campaign song, but if he has, let me cast my vote right now for "Any Way You Want It."

gifts of the internet

I am not someone who tires of email forwards - a dirty joke, a funny picture, a stupid video clip. Work has been a bit of a bear in recent weeks (thus my sad absence from this blog), and receiving gems like this - well, they make the day a little brighter. Enjoy.

somewhat shocking?

This isn't going to be a post about my thoughts on Jerry Falwell (he died yesterday). There's enough of that to be found on the internet that pretty well sums up the opinion I have of who he seemed to be.

What I am going to comment on is this: how many 30 year-olds didn't know who Jerry Falwell was until yesterday?

I have always been a little intrigued by televangelists. But weird interest in televangelists aside - Jerry Falwell has been a public figure of note for many years. A fascinating and polarizing character. Beyond his infamous comments on September 11 (there was a little more to it, but he basically said, "blame the homos") and various other outrageous one-liners, Falwell will be most noted in history for orchestrating a movement that turned a virtually voiceless group of conservative Christians into one of the most politically powerful groups in the United States, the "moral majority". I chose the picture above because it's a new picture - Falwell shown alongside John McCain, a current Presidential hopeful. My point: he's been in the news recently.

Yesterday, two women I work with - 29 and 30 years old - said they had never heard of Jerry Falwell. Never. There are plenty of news items out there right now that were I quizzed, I wouldn't know as much about as I should. But Jerry Falwell is a name kind of like Madonna - you might now know their life story or what their real importance has been in the world - but you certainly know who they are.

Am I being harsh? Are there lots of people out there in my age category who have never heard of him?

eco (un) friendly

I think we can all agree that the old adage "everything in moderation" is a universally good rule to live by. If I want to eat two pieces of cake, instead of just one...if I want to buy two pairs of shoes instead of one...if want one more beer to follow-up the first 4 I just had....I try to think to myself "everything in moderation". Of course, I usually ignore that and go overboard anyway, but the thought does cross my mind.

What brings this topic to mind for me today is a situation going on in my office. A woman, we'll call her Sarah, in an attempt to do something good has lost sight of the importance of moderation. And it's this absence of moderation that has sparked an office war of ridiculous, and pretty funny, proportions.

It started last week at a staff meeting. It's the one time in the month where our full museum staff gets together. People you never see come out of the woodwork and bring their various thoughts, opinions and issues to the table. Sarah always has something to share, and last week it was this:

"Our organization isn't really eco-friendly. Frankly, I'm pretty pissed about it."

I admire anyone with a passion and the willingness to stand up and do something about it, and Sarah was on fire. Listening to her I was immediately reminded of my time working at a Patagonia store while I was in grad school. The store and its staff created the most eco-friendly scene imaginable - toilet paper was a prized commodity and I felt shamed and guilty for sneaking my plastic yogurt tubs and packets of Equal in every day. Behind my corduroy pants, long hair and clogs, I was an eco-fraud.

Sarah continued on a fairly long diatribe about the "pure evil" that are styrophome coffee cups and the "disgusting display of wasted energy" that is an empty conference room with fluorescent lights left on. I heard what she was saying and took note - we should all be more mindful of our behavior. We should pack up a coffee mug from home and stop using the styrophome cups, and when we leave a room we should turn the lights off. Heck, I'll even rinse out my Diet Coke can and put it in the recycling bin like a respectable person. No complaints from me.

No complaints until now. For the past week, Sarah has been on an eco-crazy mission. The evil styrophome cups? They're no longer a problem because Sarah has done away with them - burrowed them away somewhere - and there is simply no other option but to use your own damn mug. Forgot to bring your mug from home? No coffee for you, you bum. And the problem of wasted energy? She has started going on "walk-throughs" of our building, several times a day, turning off the lights in any space that is without an occupant for more than a few minutes.

Including the bathroom. Our public bathrooms are now pitch black upon entry. And I don't know about you, but I like to see what's going on in the bathroom before I enter. And she sends out multiple emails to the entire staff reminding us to turn the bathroom lights off after we leave, to turn the hallway lights off, and my personal favorite: to limit our use of paper towels when drying our hands in the bathroom...one is enough. It's gone from a valid suggestion to be more mindful of these issues to a wacky obsession. I'm fully prepared for Sarah to snap one day soon and slash all of our tires, forcing us to ride our bikes to work, like her.

Of course, there are people that have acted in an equally childish manner in reponse to Sarah's eco-crusade. People so pissed that they're now going behind her and turning the lights back on and it has quickly turned into a real battle. Yesterday there was a sign posted on the bathroom door that read, "Please be considerate to guests who visit our office - leave the lights ON." This morning there was a new stack of styrophome cups standing defiantly on the office kitchen counter, placed there by a mystery eco-hater. Sounds like war to me.

As for me, I'm doing my best to stay out of the battle. I mean, I love the planet - and I love a well-lit bathroom. But I think I love moderation more.

fashion police, part II

Just to update anyone eagerly awaiting news of what's going on with the fashion police...

We haven't even met yet. And in fact, I'd almost forgotten about the whole embarrassing thing - until...

A girl came to my office this morning, wearing a sleeveless top. She said, "Snake, are we allowed to wear sleeveless?"

She's fairly new to our office. She then told me that the guy she shares a cube wall with told her when she asked him the same question : "Go ask Snake. She's in charge of the fashion squad or something."

I don't think I can handle this.

bathroom humor

So much going on in the world - so many heavy issues on everyone's minds. And here I am blogging about - something that happened to me this morning in the public bathroom at my office. (If you want to read some great commentary and thoughts on real issues, I highly recommend 2040 World View. But for now, I'll take it back to the bathroom...)

Our office has a truly top notch group of people who clean the facility. They are like no cleaning staff I have ever encountered. The place is immaculate, and they take their jobs very seriously. And it's a small group - only about 5 or 6 people who clean and maintain the museum (which is not small) and the executive offices, where I am. They are on a first-name basis with everyone, and you almost feel like they would gladly clean out your car for you, if you asked. I've never seen people so happy with what they do - they make me feel guilty for ever complaining about my own job.

This morning I walked down the hall to use the bathroom. As I approached I could see one of the cleaning staff, a woman, was in the doorway with her cart of supplies. I said hello to her and turned around to go back down the hall - as she was clearly in the middle of mopping the floor. She said, "No, no. You can come in." Usually it's sort of an understood thing around here that when you see the cleaning staff cart in the door of one of the bathrooms, you wait until they're done or you go to another bathroom. But she insisted that I come in and use the bathroom. It was clear, however, that she was going to continue with what she was doing.

I should also explain that I have some issues with public bathrooms, and it has nothing to do with the fear of them being unclean. It's more that I really dislike the idea of such a private moment being so public - I prefer a "one-seater" bathroom, if you know what I mean. Multiple stalls bother me. When you add in the possible awkwardness of a co-worker sitting in the next stall, etc. - can't handle it. I want to be alone.

So, I go on in the bathroom. She has the main door propped completely open with her giant cart of supplies, allowing for a clear view of the stalls for all who walk past, which 0f course, I didn't like. I felt confident throngs of people would walk past and recognize my feet under the stall door. Nonetheless, I go in one of the stalls. Within two seconds the cleaning lady is knocking on the door.

"Hey there SNAKE NATION, (she said my first name), you don't have any paper in there, do you?"

Please keep in mind that the office where I am is not that big, the bathrooms are centrally located, and with the main bathroom door propped open, the sound absolutely is projected out into the hall. I might as well have been sitting out in the hall.

"Uh - nope, you're right. Looks like I don't have any paper in here. "

"I'll get you some, baby. Hold on."

She comes back with two rolls of toilet paper that she hands me under the stall door.

"You can just put the other one on that shelf in there, OK?" Also, please note she's sort of yelling at the point.

"OK. Thanks."

When I came out of the bathroom and went back out into the hall - the hall that still had a clear view into the bathroom - my boss and two other people that are senior to me were standing RIGHT THERE talking. I'm sure it's only embarrassing to me, but I felt a little like they had all just basically watched me use the bathroom.

But hey, at least it was clean.

fashion police

Today I was presented with an unexpected task at work. I have been elected to join a new staff committee. They are calling themselves "The Fashion Police". I was given a little pretend "badge", now sitting on my desk, that says "Chief". Not only am I on the squad, it looks like a have a high rank as well.

This group, comprised of myself and 5 other staff members at the museum where I work, will literally be in charge of writing a new policy on employee dress standards. From the top down to the reception desk, we will be deciding what will and won't be acceptable attire for work.

Now, while I have noticed that there are maybe a few people I work with who don't necessarily dress as well for work as one might hope (considering the public nature of their job), it truly never would have occurred to me that we might need to create a fashion police squad - and more importantly, that I would be a member of it.

Next week, me and the rest of the officers will be meeting to start work on our fashion bi-laws. Oh, and it has also been suggested that once we're done, I SHOULD BE THE PERSON to formally present these new rules to everyone in a "light and funny way" during our monthly all staff meeting. I can pretty much guarantee that the girls who sell tickets at the museum entrance will find nothing funny about me telling them they might need to invest in a sensible pants suit.

Is this crazy to anyone else? I mean, I actually do love where I work - so if this is my only complaint, things could certainly be worse. Maybe somebody here in the office is secretly reading my blog, and this post specifically - and they know that deep down, I sort of want to be Stacy London.

although it's 30 degrees....

...here in the southeast, Easter weekend is upon us.

We're all leaving work a little early today to get a nice head start on a mini Spring Break.

It's time to sit back, relax and enoy the simple things - like pictures of tiny bunnies sitting in coffee cups.

Happy Easter.

guilty pleasures

About a week ago my cat got suddenly sick and I totally turned into one of the people I poked a little fun at in this post. Fortunately, after a week in the hospital and more money spent that I can talk about without feeling incredible remorse and mild embarassment, my cat is home and on the mend. He will never be 100%, but he's feeling good and clearly happy to be home. I'm grateful I still have him, and I learned a little something about perspective in the process. Also, there's nothing easy or remotely pleasant about giving a cat two pills a day. Nothing.

Anyway, I've had to be at home a lot with him since he got out of the hospital. He has required a lot of intense hands-on care, and when I'm not at work, I've felt more than a little trapped in the ol' apartment. Fortunately, we'll be done with the heavy duty care next week. But during this time I've indulged in some guilty TV pleasures that I thought I'd share with you.

1. Are we all fully aware of the vast buffet of entertainment available these days on The Learning Channel? Maybe it's just me, but it's rare that I can't find something I like on TLC. At the top of the list - What Not to Wear. This show is television gold. Like a gift from above, there was a WNTW marathon this past weekend. I also find myself sucked in by Little People, Big World which documents the life of a family of dwarves. Go ahead, call me weird, but I can't get enough of a good documentary about the unusual - conjoined twins, the paranormal, etc. If you are like me - it's OK, no need to explain - just turn on TLC and you will be all set. (*also, as a personal disclaimer, it should be noted that the shows I just mentioned - about conjoined twins, etc. - are always presented in a very sensitive way. They're not as exploitive as they sound.)

2. The Agency. This is a reality show on VH1 that gives a behind-the-scenes look at the world of a New York modeling agency. The agents are crazy, and most (I said MOST, not all) of the models are either also crazy, or just kind of stupid. It's silly, high-stakes drama all the time - two thumbs up.

3. The Hills. You've surely heard of it. It's a pseudo reality show on MTV and it's even more mindless than its predecessor Laguna Beach. This show hypnotizes and soothes me like waves crashing softly on the shore. I suggest you check it out for yourself.

4. The Real Wives of Orange County. Again, a pseudo reality show, this time on Bravo. The characters are basically the 20 year-olds from The Hills when they're 35 to 40 years old. The stupid scenarios they find themselves in are pretty much exactly the same as when they were in their 20's, just with a few more wrinkles and a whole lot more bling.

And there you go - a short list of television guilty pleasures that have helped me get through some not-so-fun time at home. Enjoy!

iPod game

My iPod isn't working well lately...I think it's dying. I charge it and it runs for maybe an hour. Anyone else had a similar problem? Anyway.

It did work long enough for me to put it on shuffle and give this game a try...

Opening Credits: American Girl, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

First Day of School: Back on the Chain Gang, The Pretenders

Falling In Love: Lips Like Sugar, Echo and the Bunnymen

Fight Song: Overdrive, Foo Fighters

Breaking Up: Crime Scene Part One, The Afghan Whigs

Prom: Welcome to the Jungle (Live), Guns & Roses

Life: A Nightingale Sang in Berkley Square, Ella Fitzgerald

Driving: Jump Around, House of Pain

Flashback: Under Pressure, David Bowie & Queen

Getting Back Together: Mayor of Simpleton, XTC

Wedding: Rocket Queen, Guns & Roses

Party: Candy Everybody Wants, 10,000 Maniacs

Birth of a Child: Here Comes My Girl, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers

Death Scene: Almost Gold, The Jesus and Mary Chain

Funeral Song: Just Like a Woman, Jeff Buckley

Ending Credits: Any Way You Want It (Live), Journey

little bitch, part II

I titled a previous post "little bitch" a while back. That post shared the story of a small, annoying dog in my condo building. This time, however, the little b*tch is me. I've been in a bit of bad mood this week (it's only Tuesday).

When I'm in a bad mood, I quickly lose patience for things I can generally deal with just fine. Example A: There is a woman in my office. We'll call her Joann. Joann is a well-meaning person who talks too much. She works part-time, in the afternoons, and her cubicle is directly outside my office door. Mornings are comfortably quiet and serene, until 1:30 - when Joann arrives. From this point on until the end of the day, Joann is talking. She's talking on the phone, she's talking to the employees who share cubicle walls with her, and if those folks aren't available, she's talking to me.

Joann is one of those people who knows no limits - the natural boundaries we learn in communicating with others - Joann doesn't know about those. If I'm on the phone, or clearly busy with something, Joann will still come in my office. She will stand, and stare at me, until I am available; available to listen to her talk. And she's not talking about anything work-related. Joann is talking about her neighbor with the house that won't sell because their yard looks so bad, or she's talking about her dog with a hernia, or she's talking about her growing frustration over the fact that her husband plays with his XBox too much. Joann drives me nuts.

However, when in a good mood, I have no problem being nice to Joann. I listen to her stories, I nod my head and make some sort of comment validating whatever point she's trying to make, and then I tell her that I need to get back to what I was doing. No problem. But yesterday, I was in this bad mood - and I was a little rude to Joann. She came in to tell me about the Southern Living party she'd gone to the night before and, well, I kind of lost it on her. "Joann, I'm really sorry but I have a lot to get done today. Could I maybe hear about this another time?" I couldn't believe I had said it - and I said it in such a snotty, nasty way. She just looked at me and said, "Ok. Sorry." I felt like I had kicked a puppy. Joann is a nice person, and she didn't deserve that. I apologized to her later in the afternoon, which worked - she immediately felt comfortable again and launched right into the story I had snubbed just a couple of hours earlier.

Example B is not something that happened at work. It happened at a rehearsal last night for a one of the two groups I sing in. As luck would have it, me and my terrible mood ended up seated next to a member of this group that I have to say I like the very least - an incredibly unfriendly woman we'll call Nan. My worst mood is nothing compared to this lady's general demeanor on a daily basis - she's just a mean old woman - and I always end up seated near her, but never directly next to her . The timing couldn't have been worse. During rehearsal I opened a bottle of water, seltzer water, and it made a light fizzing sound when I twisted the top. Nan said, "You're really not supposed to have any beverages in here. Has anyone told you that?" Usually, I would laugh this off and say some wimpy something like, "Guess I forgot - oops!" But last night, the bad mood stepped in and said, "Yes, I do know that - and I'm choosing to break that rule. Thanks." She looked at me like she hated me - but it did shut her up, and Nan had no more comments for the remainder of our rehearsal. So, in that case, I guess my bad mood actually served me pretty well.

Wishing you a good rest of the week - and a good mood to match!

dearly beloved....

....I was really disappointed by Prince's performance at the Super Bowl. I am a big fan of Prince - well, everything he did prior to assuming that stupid symbol as his primary moniker.

I tuned in, ready to get my groove on with the great purple wonder. However, the minute he appeared with that rag on his head, well, I knew I wasn't going to be pleased with what was about to follow. I did watch it to the end, but was left feeling let down by a man I've always loved. Something was missing.

But let's not dwell on the negative. I did notice one impressive thing that kept my attention - Prince has not aged. Not at all. And he's still really little; I'll guesstimate my calf is about the width of his thigh. We haven't really seen Prince, in the flesh, in years - and I was just amazed at how incredibly well preserved he is.

This led my sister and I into a conversation about Prince. He's one of those celebrities that I have a very hard time imagining doing daily things. What does Prince wear to the grocery store...does he go to the grocery store? And what's in his kitchen....does he eat cereal, oatmeal? And what does Prince watch on TV? Does he ever get up in the morning and watch the Today Show?

And now I'll totally copy Bossy and ask a question of you, the readers (of which there are 3 or 4, I'm still assuming)....what celebrity would you most like to follow for a day?

weirdo

Leave it to Bossy - I've been tagged.
(This really couldn't come at a better time. I've been in meetings all morning and would rather eat dirt than do work in these few minutes before lunch.)

6 weird things about me, in no particular order:

1. I have an oddly shaped head - there's this knot on the back of it, fortunately hidden by a lot of hair. When I was a kid I was convinced this was a tumor of some kind and got really upset about it. It took my mom an entire evening to convince me that it was, in fact, not a tumor - just a weird head.

2. I am often told I look like someone else, by both strangers and people who know me. They cover a very wide spectrum from Catherine Zeta-Jones (alright - my nephew was 6 when he said this after seeing her on the cover of a magazine - she has long dark hair, I have long dark hair - but whatever - I'll still claim it) to PJ Harvey. None of the people I'm told I resemble ever look like each other. All they have in common is dark hair, and they are women. Some are flattering, and some are quite unflattering. Among the latter would be Peg Bundy (from Married With Children - and not the actress who played her, I mean the character Peg Bundy - who actually had red hair, if memory serves), and Angelica Houston when she played Morticia in The Adams Family. (*you might also be interested in knowing that a former boss told me I looked like Morticia Adams.)

3. I know I've probably mentioned this previously, but lunch meats/cold cuts often repulse me. This doesn't mean I don't eat them - I love a good sandwich. But I cannot store cold cuts in my refrigerator at home. If I have them at home, I have to use them pretty much the day they're bought and then be done with it. I don't, however, get concerned about the age or condition of cold cuts in a place like Subway - which, obviously, would make more sense.

4. Until yesterday I thought Scientology and Church of Christ, Scientist were one in the same. This came up in a conversation at work, which is also weird.

5. I don't get into popular TV shows on my own, like 24 (NEVER seen an episode of that) or Grey's Anatomy (NEVER seen one of those either). And it's not that I don't like them - I just don't think about them. If I begin watching a show regularly with another person, and continue watching it with that person, I will stick with and get wrapped up in a TV show. But on my own, never. (Two exceptions to this are Sex and the City and Project Runway - I fell in love with those on my own.) Otherwise, if left to make television choices, I am always drawn, first and foremost, to anything related to real crimes (documentaries on A&E - if there's something on about a serial killer, I cannot change the channel) and anything related to oddities (ie: specials on The Learning Channel about people born with no legs, etc.)

6. I don't really like Chick-fil-a fries. Everything else on the menu - serve it up. But the fries, not a huge fan.

product endorsement

Run to Whole Foods today and buy one of these. I had my first Cafe Sepia last week and cannot get enough. They are overpriced, so I'm trying to keep this obsession under control.

This little drink is delicious. I usually am not a big fan of the chilled coffee drinks - but boy, oh boy - I sure do love Cafe Sepia!

Seriouly. Go get one.

sicko

Yesterday I spent the day at home from work sick with something gross. It has floated around my office, and it floated into my path apparently. Not a respiratory illness, nope - something much more heinous. Yep, I'm talking a stomach bug. Disgusting.

I'm back at work today. But I'm not 100%. To make matters worse, I walked into my 10 a.m. staff meeting this morning with one woman's greeting of, "You're back? I heard you had a nasty stomach thing. Stay away from me." (Granted, this was also the woman who said that she thought I was already 30 on my 30th birthday. It's tough to catch her on a good day. I really don't work with a bunch of jerks. The rest are really great.) I do hate that everyone knows about my ailment, though. It's embarrassing - my boss has a big mouth.

Anyway, I spent the day at home yesterday and realized just how much we all miss out on TV while we're at work. There is so much - here are just a couple of highlights:

1. The View - holy moses. I just can't get enough. Seriously, I love it. The addition of Rosie and all her controversy - genius.
2. The Golden Girls is still on Lifetime - but they cheat us working stiffs by showing two episodes at 9 a.m. and two more at 4 p.m. We're at work - what the f? Don't they realize their target audience is the 20/30 something single working gals? (I include gay men in this group as well, naturally) I think it's an elaborate scheme by whoever's marketing the Girls' box set - trying to force me into buying it. I really want to own it, but I'm both too embarrassed to purchase it for myself or to suggest it to anyone as a gift hint.
3. VHI no longer has music programming on during the day. (Well, none that I saw any indication of.) It's pretty much all celebrity gossip shows all day long. Yesterday was non-stop 2006 year-end wrap up shows - perfect.
4. The Martha Stewart Show is great. Great, great, great. Sure, Martha's a bitch, but that's her thing - and you cannot hate her. You can't. She's a total bitch to her guests, makes condescending comments to audience members - doesn't matter, they love it, every single one of them. And so do I.
5. Soap operas are so ridiculous now that I actually like them. One word: Passions. Check it out.

There's a lot more - I saw a fantastic episode of COPS, a show that is on in the evenings, but I rarely catch it. All of this to say, if you start feeling the ol' flu bug setting it, take heart and try to see the silver lining: you've got some quality daytime TV in your future.

from the mouths of babes

Yesterday I was invited to share in a free lunch at a nearby Thai restaurant by a co-worker who had won lunch for 8. I was thrilled to hear I was included in his chosen 8, and gladly headed out just after noon for some free grub.

More of a big picture kind of guy, and not one to focus on the small details of any situation, my co-worker conveniently left out one minor part of this free lunch deal. In order to get our lunch, all 8 of us would have to sit and listen to a pitch by from a financial services sales rep. After sitting captive (and hungry) through this pitch, the rep would then allow us to order lunch.

We all arrived at the restaurant and were greeted at the door by a cute sandy haired, baby-faced guy named Chuck. I say “guy” because I can’t really go so far as to call him a “man”. I would guess Chuck’s age to have been 23, at the most. Wearing what looked like his dad’s suit – his dad’s suit that was two sizes too big – Chuck greeted us with a “Hey ya’ll, I’m Chuck from ************ (a financial services company)” and escorted the group to some tables in the back corner of the restaurant. We sat down and really without even a slight pause (or an offer of even a beverage, for crying out loud), Chuck went right into what I would really define not so much as a sales pitch, but really a full-on act, a one man financial show of sorts.

I say this because his presentation was more than just the facts: “At ************ we can help you learn more about how to invest your money”. No, what Chuck offered was more like this: “Ok, so you guys like to make money, right? I know I do. And how about making some money without working more hours? You guys like that idea, right? I know I do.” Chuck didn't make eye contact – he looked right over our heads and rattled off words that I imagine he rattles off several times a day, in the exact same manner. And the fact that he was speaking so quickly, and slurring many of his words together, I really wasn’t catching everything he was saying. He would laugh at his own jokes now and then, and we’d all perk up for that, but were quickly lost again.

As Chuck continued speaking, I started imagining that probably just a couple of years ago he was still in college, and I then reached the conclusion that Chuck was a frat boy. Everything about him said frat boy. Now I should probably explain something. I always had a strong feeling of love/hate towards the stereotypical frat boy in college. I didn’t like them, I felt like I couldn’t really talk to them and I generally thought they were stupid – but we all know that this was just a defense mechanism. Deep down, all girls – I don’t care who you are, how smart you are, blah blah – all girls find something about a frat boy overwhelmingly appealing, and deep down, we all wanted their approval. And apparently, I haven’t outgrown this.

I started paying a little more attention to what Chuck was saying. Somehow he had ended up on planning for retirement, and the use of trusts to give money to family members and charitable organizations. He started asking us questions about trusts, living wills, etc – and as I’ve shared here before, this is actually part of my job at the museum. All of the sudden, I was answering Chuck’s questions – questions that I don’t think he really wanted us to answer. At the end of my commentary on charitable giving through life trusts, Chuck smiled and said, “Hey there – she knows what she’s talkin about. Would you like a job with me at *********?” The group let out a tired chuckle, as did I – but, deep down, I felt really satisfied to have won the approval of Chuck, our frat boy financial planner.

Chuck wrapped up his speech with, “Ok, you guys can go order your food. Just don’t go over $10. And fill out these forms, I have to give them to my boss to prove I did this.” We all filled out our forms, giving our office mailing address and our office phone numbers. I expect to receive a call from Chuck in the coming days, and deep down, I’ll probably be kind of excited to hear from him.

jive turkey

(Side note: I can't keep this to myself. The janitor at my office has "Sexual Healing" as the ringtone on his cell phone. And he never, ever seems to turn the ringer off. I was in a meeting this morning, and he walked past the conference room - and his phone went off - "Baaaaaby...I can't fight it much longer...." Anyway.)

I'm easily distracted today. This is my last day of work before Thanksgiving vacation. Images of turkey, pies, and an uncomfortably bloated belly are dancing in my head. Holy moses, do I love Thanksgiving.

This year, however, will be the first time I've not spent the holiday with my family. I am driving to Tampa tomorrow morning to spend Thanksgiving with my boyfriend's dad and stepmother. And I have to admit that while I'm looking forward to meeting his dad, I am going to miss my family.

And their food.

Like many families, our extended family is somewhat of a cast of characters - people who, were they not members of the same family, would likely never cross paths. Among them is the ultra-conservative Baptist delegation of my family that reigns somewhat supreme over family functions, this includes my mom and her two younger sisters...there is the "black sheep" Red Lobster waitress cousin whose whereabouts are often unclear...there's the 30-something police officer bachelor cousin (the waitress's brother) who might or might not be an alcoholic and is usually dating a woman no less than 50 years of age....there's the uncle who makes endless fart jokes regardless of the company he's in. And then there's my sister and I, caught somewhere in the middle. We like to pride ourselves in being the normal ones, though I'm sure everyone I just mentioned would probably say the same thing about themselves. All of this to say that, while I certainly have affection for all of them, on the surface we have absolutely nothing in common outside of being related by blood....and by an obsession with food. If my family can talk about nothing else, they sure can talk about food.

I was raised with incredible quantities of food at any family gathering. More food than could ever be considered reasonable. A lot of food, and a lot of conversation about the food. And as we've all gotten older, and find conversation topics harder and harder to come by, the focus inevitably turns to what's on the table.....who made it, how it was made, when it was made, what kind of difficulties might have been experienced in the preparation, where the recipe came from, how it might have been done differently, and on and on and on. And while my sister and I get pretty annoyed by the seemingly endless talk about food with our family, and the fact that food is the #1 focus of our gatherings, I think we both know that deep down we would find a Thanksgiving or Christmas without it oddly incomplete.

I have a feeling that this Thanksgiving may feature more normal quanitites of food. And maybe it's safe to assume that their family not being southern, perhaps they don't cook vegetables with a ham bone in the pot. I can, however, take comfort in the fact that while I won't be enjoying my family's feast this year, I will no doubt hear about it later on, in vivid detail.

Happy Thanksgiving.