Another Question

Why?

Why did this bra manufacturer feel the need to place a flower-shaped petrified rock/bow combo in the middle of the bra?

Because, seriously...

It looks like I have a third nipple.

So. Not. Wanted.

In other, happier, non mutant-third-nipple news:

I'm in love with Pandora, especially the Jack Johnson channel. The station does tend to play too much Dave Mathews and Coldplay and John Mayer at times, but we're still in the honeymoon phase of our love affair so some things can be overlooked.

Unlike my recently acquired third nipple.

Which shall hence forth referred to as Señor Nip.

Until, of course, I get home and find a pair of scissors.

Then its hasta la vista Señor Nip!

I Has Question

Man, this place has been neglected like a sandy vagina. Let's remedy that, shall we?

Because you see, I have this question. Not an IMPORTANT question or even an INTERESTING question. Just a thing that made me go HMMMM.

If I send an email to someone requesting something, and end it with a "thanks for the help", do I need to send another 'thanks' email in reply once that someone follows up with the request? It seems a bit redundant. I already said thanks; I don't want to beat them over the head with it. But not saying it makes me feel guilty. Especially since it’s a work related email because those should be handled differently, than, say, my friend Jack sending me a picture of kitty porn.

Not that I can't find that stuff for myself mind you.


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Here's an example of a recent email exchange between me and a vendor I deal with at work that inspired this awesome post.

From: Moi
To: Person I Need Help From
Subject: Dude, where's my invoice?

Hello Person I Need Help From. Could you email me a copy of an invoice from FOREVER AGO. Blah blah relevant info to aid in your search for the desired invoice. Thanks in advance for the help.

To: Person in Need
From: Person With The Goods
Re: Dude?

Here it is. I thought I'd never find it! :-)
Nicey nicey warm wishes.

I thought about responding with a "Thanks!"...

...then thought, "but I already said thanks"...

...and then thought, "she was nice about it... and quick too"...

... and then thought about responding to her 'finding it' comment with a "I know OMG its so old lolololol :) :) :)"...

... and then I felt nuttered for even thinking that.

The internets. They have warped me.

Sigh.

Maybe I shouldn't include the preemptive 'thanks' with the original email; that would save all this pondering. But then the email doesn't sound nice enough. And I want it to be exploding with niceties because I'm asking someone for a favor. Maybe I should send them another email and clutter their damn email box with thank you's and smilie faces and all around warm communicative fuzzies.

I don't know what it is exactly; I have this paralyzing fear of being cute in my work emails. And the ones where I send Jack kitty porn don't count. Which reminds me... Jack is due for an email!


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So why not just be boring and respond with a plain, "Thanks"? Good question Self. You're an idiot. Excellent answer Self.

Am I making an email faux pas by not replying back with my humblest of thanks and praise? Inquiring neurotics want to know. Because if so? I have a lot of emails to reply to :(

This office needs a waffle maker

A waffle a day makes the... uh... something something something. On second thought, too many people might hang out back here with the waffler in residence. Screw that.

Here's another thought: I really need to start blogging more. And writing less bitchy posts. Or at least more non-bitchy posts so that all I post is not just bitchy posts.

Hmmm...

As I ponder the situation I come to the conclusion that I don't think I should stop the bitchy posts completely. I do so enjoy writing them.

But really, what else is there to write about?

Oh, lots. I know. But all the good stuff lately is written in my head before I ever get to a computer/notebook and then it never makes it up on the screen.

So until the good stuff happens I'm going to write about...

Hmmm...

Yeah. I got nothing this morning.

Oh! I'll write about this dream that weirded me out the other day. It wasn't one of those "wrap Tilda Swinton up in a blanket and beat her unconscious with a miniature silver shovel" type of weird.** I haven't had one of those super disturbing dreams in a while. This dream was one of those glitch-in-the-matrix dreams.

1) I'd been wondering for weeks now where some missing pants had sauntered off to...

2) Friday afternoon a thought popped into my head that they might be in the closet...

3) I file that thought away...

4) and then I have a dream that night that I found them exactly where I suspected them to be...

5) When I wake up the next day, the memory is in my head as an actual event, not a dream...

6) so while I'm looking for something else in a different part of my room and find my pants and think, 'what the hell, I'd already found them in the closet!'

Not exactly a premonition dream. But what are the odds that I find my missing pants after I find them in my dream?

Hmmmmmmmmm??????

Yeah, okay. I know that no one finds that as interesting as I do. I mentioned it to the HB and his sister later that day and got no reaction out of them whatsoever.

But I dreamed I found them in the closet then woke up and found them under my desk! Get it?!

Sigh.

Maybe I should just stick to bitchy posts.


** Okay, I just did a search through my posts and couldn't find anything about that Tilda Swinton dream. How did I never write about that?! It was fascinating and disturbing all at the same time. I mean, I was hitting her with a shovel! Really, really hard too. I can still see her looking up at me, all serene like, as I whacked her uncontrollably with my little shovel. Uggggh.

Why?

Why must people take it upon themselves to inform me that my face is sunburned.

Really? My face is sunburned? I hadn't noticed. Nope. No mirrors in my house. Or in my car. Oh! And you know what? I can't feel the heat radiating off of my face like a disco inferno. No way, Jose. And every time I touch my face the skin doesn't feel like it just wrestled with a giant tumbleweed. So thanks Fellow Coworkers for stating the fucking obvious. Because I obviously didn't know!

If you are curious as to why my face is a tomato, then please, by all means, inquire into it. I will tell you I had a fantastic time this weekend. But don't try and start the conversation off with a dumb ass remark. Because all you'll get is a smart ass remark in return.

Him: "Hey! You're face is sunburned."

Me: "Hmmm. I hadn't noticed."

Him: "You hadn't noticed?"

Me: "Noooooooooope."

Him: "Errrr..."

Me: "Hold on, I need to ignore you now and make a phone call."

I'm secluded in the back office and have only seen two people today. And both have made these brilliant observations. And now? I have to go to school. Where I'll be surrounded by people. Some of whom will be endowed with a keen sense of Must State The Obvious.

If only I had a biting comeback for all of them. Because really, after the first person let's you know you've got a sunburn, it gets really annoying really fast.

I need a t-shirt for just such an occasion. One that reads:

"My sunburn irritates me. You will too if you mention it."

But with more snarky attitude. And with a picture of a crazy lady with a gun or butter knife or something underneath so they know I mean business.

T H R E E - O H

Why is it, when I woke up at 6 am on tuesday I still felt sleepy, like I could fall back asleep in seconds and dream for another hour or two.

And today, a no-need-to-rush-to-work saturday, when I woke up at 6 am I was wide awake. Wide freakin awake. Without a chance in hell of falling back asleep. And no desire to even try.

What's up with that?

It probably has something to do with today being my birthday and having a super fun weekend ahead of me.

/peanutbutterjellybananadance

Yep. That's right. Today is my birthday! The big 3-0. I am now officially a thirty-something. Eeek!

I was all weirded out and shit as the day approached, leaving the twenties, entering a new decade of adulthoodedness, assessing where I am, where I'm going, yadda yadda yadda, some of the same stuff that bothered me the last two birthdays. One of the weirder 'holy shit' moments happened a few weeks ago when I realized that my mom had two children in elementary school when she was the age I am now. Or was. Or something.

As a kid she was always old to me. Not old, just mommy-adult-old. But I don't feel old. Definitely not mommy-adult-old. And yet she was this age once! So when I thought of her as 'older adult' she was actually young. Like I am. With two kids already!

I'm not sure if I adequately explained all that as I'm just riffing here, but I'm going to leave it unedited so I can have a laugh when I read it months/years later.

Anywhoo...

Today the boyfriend and I are driving down to San Diego for a book signing to see our favorite author Jim Butcher. Tomorrow we're going to the red bull air race.

Its a weekend of firsts!

My coworker smells like Electric Youth

My coworker smells like Electric Youth

And I don't necessarily mean that in a good way.

When I was a tweeny-bopper (oh lordy I hope it was back in my pre-teen/tween years and before high school...) my parents bought me Debbie Gibson's Electric Youth perfume. It was an awesome gift.

I was a big fan of Debbie Gibson. (Still love her actually. Her greatest hits CD is full of electric and youthful win.) I listened to that Electric Youth cassette tape every night, singing along, imaginging I was the one singing on stage, or in a music video/beach movie type scenario, until the cassette died from exhaustion due to excessive rewinding after favorite songs.

The bottle of perfume looked bitchin', what with the neon pink spiral tube spiraling through the pink tinted liquid.

I was never cooler than when I spritzed on my Debbie Gibson Electric Youth perfume.

That was then, back when my nose never thought to distinguish the difference between wal-mart perfume and holy-shit-this-tiny-bottle-costs-how-much perfume. Like I would have cared back then anyhow.

I was wearing Debbie Fucking Gibson's Electric Youth perfume, yo!

But now? Yeah... the smell of that pink neon mist has not aged well.

And I keep getting a whiff of it, or its evil sad red-headed stepchild counterpart every time I walk anywhere in Ms Coworkers wafting zone. Now, I'm not saying "Wear the Good Stuff or GTFO" because lord knows I rarely bother to get spritzed up myself. I'm trying not to be a perfume snob or anything. But there are alternatives! Ones that won't make me want to gag! Skip the $2.00 perfume aisle and go look for the smelly lotion aisle. Even non-fancy smelly lotion smells a hell of a lot better than the crap perfume does.

Save that crap perfume for home. For date night. For grocery shopping night when cute clerk boy is working his shift. For going out and checking the mail.

Maybe you can find some good smelling cheap stuff. Good for you! No, really, that's awesome. Tell me where you bought it!

But if you buy something and it smells icky?

DON'T DOSE YOURSELF IN IT BEFORE WORKING IN MY OFFICE.

Thanks,
Management

Today's Happiness Is Brought To You By The Letters S, H, I, N, and Y

I'm wearing a new blouse today. And I'm in a really good mood because of it.

Sure, I got a little snappish at Former-Mr-Desk-Neighbor (former because he was relocated to a desk in the big, posh, all-in-one office fish bowl at the front of the building). But he got annoyed when I told him to shoo so I could get back to work so he totally deserved it.

And still, my good mood radiates through my poors!

*sniff sniff*

Yeah, its just my good mood. Sniff check confirmed.

I haven't bought new clothes in months. Almost a year actually come to think of it. Wow. And if you don't count the dress I bought for that waste-of-time reunion then I haven't bought normal, every-day clothes in an even longer time.

1) shopping for clothes depresses my fat ass sometimes

2) other times I fall in love with too many cute/funky things and spend too much

3) credit card debt sucks

Not that I've gone into debt because of my clothes spending. I just feel guilty buying stuff when I have evil credit debt looming over my shoulder like an evil devil monkey. Evil debt devil monkeys suck ass.

But some time last year I got caught up and paid off every thing I owed. I still have some student loans looming on the horizon, waiting to pounce after I graduate - which is finally happening in the summer. Halle-fucking-luiah. The only real credit debt I have is school related, but its manageable. I do have a new car payment I have to work into my budget, but that'll be manageable too.

So I felt okay on the money front. I still felt like a fat ass, but my fat ass was in the mood for a treat, so I bought some new tops. Yay me!

But where to put them?!

I've needed to clean out my closet for the longest time. There are so many clothes I've kept for years that I don't wear anymore, that don't fit anymore, that I might wear again, one day. I've come to the conclusion that that's just silly. When I can fit into them again, and I will be able to, eventually, I'm still not going to want to wear them. I have dresses hanging in my closet from the last century for crying out loud. Seriously. When I can wear them again I'm going to need to upgrade the fashion a few decades.

So I bought 5 new tops. The plan was to replace 5 old tops that are currently in my What To Wear rotation that are stained (my boobs are food magnets) or worn or just plain ready to go to Clothes Heaven.

Last night, instead of pulling out 5 of those tops I started grabbing shit I haven't worn in years. Those keepers I've held on to for supposed inspiration. Turns out they weren't really inspiring at all, I just wanted them to be.

I filled a trash bag of shirts and blouses to donate to goodwill. I've got a couple more trash bags of clothes to go before I'm done.

I'm a packrat. I keep junk and knickknacks and whatnot for those you-never-know moments. I didn't realize until last night I've been doing the same with my clothes. I'll go through the pants and skirts another time. There are some things I'll keep forever, like the t-shirts from my swimming competition days. Those I need to turn into a quilt sometime so I can get use out of them again. I used to live in nothing but those t-shirts for years, I miss them sometime. But I've really got to keep working on de-cluttering the rest of my closet.

And then... my dresser drawers! Gasp!

For now though, I shall bask in the shininess of my new top! Its shiny and soft and an obscenely bright lime green. It truly is a hideous color, but I like it anyway.