Ruminations
Just once, when I'm late for work and my boss asks me why, I want to have the balls to respond "Morning sex."
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After careful consideration I've arrived at the conclusion that no, there is no way to ask for St. Patrick's Day off without sounding like a total drunk.
If you are thinking of getting a personalized license plate.....don't.
If you call in sick to work on a Friday, rest assured that no one believes you.
Watching a movie trailer, I'm way more interested in who is giving the movie great reviews than the review itself. "Movie of the Year?" Thanks for that, KHKI 97.3 in Des Moines.
Jeans day in the office provides me with yet another reason to judge.
The day Facebook is suddenly, inexplicably, blocked at work is the darkest of days.
Sometimes when I'm working late at night I try to psych myself up by thinking up a reward for later. Nine times out of ten this means "Finish this spreadsheet and I can buy the nicest bottle of wine in the entire gas station on the way home."
My gym has a drawing for everyone who goes to the gym ten times per month. The prize is a gift certificate to a bar. Tell me that isn't counterintuitive.
So doctors are calling for a redesign of the hot dog because its a choking hazard. Call me crazy, but isn't every bite of food bigger than your windpipe a choking hazard?
Trash talking over men's figure skating....really?
My discovery of iced tea flavored vodka and lemonade flavored vodka has made drinking John Daly's a lot more fun.
Pretty much the only time I run the dishwasher is when I run out of wineglasses.
The level of politeness I display towards the late-night cleaning crew in my office has nothing to do with me actually being polite and everything to do with the fact that the late-night cleaning crew in my office look like a gang of serial killers.
One of my friends claimed we "just missed Facebook in college." Um, no. We're 30 years old, got e-mail our freshman year and IM was groundbreaking. We did not "just miss Facebook in college."
While I don't mind seeing family photos on a co-workers desk, a framed ultrasound picture is taking it a bit too far.
It is so liberating when I discover that someone who has being bitchy to me has been a raging bitch to everyone else, too. I don't feel so bad about hating on you anymore, anorexic secretary with more attitude than brains. Obviously, its you, not me.
I definitely do not have a five year plan, but I absolutely know what my three wishes would be should I ever encounter a genie.
The career mentoring process needs to get real. Instead of telling new hires about the value of networking and a positive attitude we should be warning them about the dangers of getting sloppy drunk at work happy hours and fucking their boss.
I work downtown, where city buses drive lawlessly and the homeless frequently accost me but my biggest fear is still being run down by an emo-freak bike messenger.
I don't care how old I get, discovering an illicit office romance will instantly transport me back to high school levels of vicious gossiping.
The weight loss contest started this month at work. I suggested we stop calling it "The Biggest Loser" and go with "Weight I'll Lose this Winter to Gain Back over the Summer." More original AND true.
My fiancé told me that when he tells his friends he got engaged, he can't tell if they are being sincere when they congratulate him. I told him that much like when I tell him he looks great in his work clothes, it’s all insincerity.
One of my friends was feeling old because he had never played Oregon Trail so he downloaded it and was bragging about beating the game an hour later. I refused to be impressed since Oregon Trail is for fucking fifth graders.
Today the security guard at my building told me I look silly walking in wearing boots every day. I asked him if he would rather see me hobble in on crutches after trying to navigate the ice rink he calls a parking lot in stiletto heels.
I'm pretty sure that if I ever get pregnant I won't gain a lot of weight. No baby can possibly outweigh nine months of forced sobriety.
I really wonder what naturally thin, non-smokers resolve to do for New Years.
I went out a few times with a guy who was still a virgin. It was so hard to find a reason not to go out with him again that didn't include the phrase "because you're still a virgin."
I'm not sure how to feel when I discover my ex has been dating a string of clearly sub-par girls. Happy that I was obviously the best he's ever had? Sad that I'm in bad company? Disgusted at the amount of time I spend Facebook stalking?
My best guy friend went through a difficult divorce. That made me sad. But, I finally got to tell him I thought his wife was a shameless, gold-digging gutter slut. That made me happy.
I don't care how amazing the seats are, if I'm at a professional sporting event you had better believe I'm watching most of the game on the Jumbo-Tron.
Old people frustrate me during the holidays. There they are, rocking a Christmas sweater so amazing I would kill to wear it to a sweater party and they do it without the slightest trace of irony, ruining it completely.
I do not get the concept of graduating early from college. Even if you have to pay for it yourself, you can always re-pay student loans but you can't re-have college fun.
I'll happily eat pizza cold or scalding hot but room temperature? That shit's just gross.
Another thing that sucks about winter: it allows me to add "It's too cold to get up and work out today" to my list of morning gym-related excuses.
I'm no urban planner, but there has got to be a better time to close down a lane of a major highway for unnecessary shoulder work than during fucking rush hour.
After looking and my texts and e-mails sent during a night of drinking I like to check my browser search history to see what inane argument I must have gotten into at the bar. "Original TGIF Lineup?" Not surprised.
I used to wish my car came equipped with a missile launcher. I've since toned it down and now want every car's license plate to show the driver’s cell phone number so I can properly scream creative obscenities at every asshat who dares cut me off.
Every night at the gym I convince myself I don't need to do abs because I'll do them while I'm watching TV at home. Then I go home, sit on my couch and stuff my face, wondering how I fall for that shit every time.
I wonder when my parents are going to catch on to the intricate web of lies I weave each and every Thanksgiving before leaving the family dinner and heading straight to the bar.
I love to shop but it will be a cold, snowing day in Hell before you find me lined up in front of any store on the day after Thanksgiving like some sort of savage.
In listing all the reasons we should stay in a hotel as opposed to with his grandmother while visiting my boyfriend's family over the holidays I don't know why I didn't think of "We can have sex in a hotel" first. Done and done.
I applied for a rescue puppy through a shelter and was turned down flat. Apparently, the puppy that was rescued from the puppy mill is better off in a shelter than with me. Not exactly the vote of confidence I was hoping for.
The refrigerator broke at work and everyone had to claim their food. The remaining items are a box of mini-corndogs, a case of SlimFast and a bottle of off-brand vodka. WTF is wrong with my co-workers? The vodka should have gone first.
Yes, I nickname all the neighbors I don't know but it's not OK when they do it to me. I don't appreciate being known as "the girl who mows her lawn in designer jeans." One, I don't have other jeans and Two, fuck off.
I want to drive a city bus just for one day so I can see what it's like to drive without any regard for traffic rules, the safety of others and politeness in general.
Sneaking into work late I always try to think of a good excuse for my tardiness...one that doesn't involve the phrase "Watching Saved by the Bell."
I cannot be the only person capable and unashamed of making entire meals out of grocery store samples.
When I told my Mom my boyfriend and I had gone looking at engagement rings she took the excitement level a bit too far...way past "I'm so happy for you!" straight to "Your father and I thought you were going to die alone!"
This morning, my very square co-worker told me "Someday, my daughter will be glad we were so strict with her. It means we care." No, it means your daughter is on the one-way train to Whoreville the minute she starts college, courtesy of you.
Personalized wedding websites, I loathe you. I'm trying to think of a guest book comment and somehow, I just don't think "You two are going to have beautiful, very dumb children" is going to fly.
Today one of my co-workers announced to the entire office that he shot and killed a deer this morning. In his front yard. With a bow and arrow. One point to my friends in larger cities who make fun of me for staying in Ohio.
While getting ready to go out at my boyfriend's this weekend, I made fun of him for not having any beer or wine in his refrigerator. I don't know if stating, "Shit, I ONLY have beer and wine in my fridge" was the best way to prove my point, though.
The day you come back from work after staying home sick for a day it's crucial to strike the right balance between coughing enough to prove that you were actually sick and not coughing so much that you annoy the entire office and get sent home again.
I got a promotion at work and my parents bought me a really nice bottle of champagne. I like to tell myself I'm going to save it for a special occasion but deep down I know I'll be drinking it alone one night while watching "Glee."
If my greatest wish ever comes true (naturally thin) you had better believe I'm immediately reallocating about 10-15 hours per week from "Gym" to "Bar."
Oh, hey dorky I.T. guy....yeah, you sent around a picture of your new baby boy! Next to an XBOX controller!! Wow, that's special. I'm sure he has an exciting life ahead of him....living in your basement until he gets married to his mail-order bride.
Nothing beats having a big work meeting cancelled or postponed, effectively paving the way for a stress-free afternoon and smooth sailing to happy hour.
Personal trainer? Hell no, I can work out on my own. What I need is a life coach to point out the flaws in my desire to eat cheesesticks every day and booze within an inch of permanent liver damage and career suicide.
Every time the office Halloween candy jar is opened it makes a sinister noise and cackles. You would think that would stop me from visiting it eight times a day. You would be wrong.
Whenever one of my friends stops seeing a guy we always talk about him in the past tense, as if he's dead now that he ceases to exist in our dating world.
It's equally awesome and annoying when you went to school with someone with an unusual and unfortunate name. Yes, it's a great story but you have to keep your yearbook forever to prove that Harry McNutt and Jenna Tally actually exist.
I don't think I would ever visit my parents if they didn't have such a cute dog.
The perfect example of adding insult to injury? The Wikipedia page on the Encyclopedia Britannica.
Really, girl who works in my building - a newsboy cap? It was cute when Britney did it in 1999 but you look like an extra from "Newsies." I think you missed your stop on the trend-whore train, honey.
Every day I park near a Lexus SUV with a license plate that says "He 4 Gave." I've spent so much time wondering what this woman did to her husband but then talked her way into forgiveness and a Lexus. Today I realized my office is next to a church.
Sometimes I'm so impressed by my married friends. They are able to commit to one person for the rest of their lives. I'm not even able to commit to one type of alcohol to drink during their wedding reception so I don't throw up later.
Going to a wedding where everyone went to college together but me is excruciating. Sorry, but I don't want to hear about your kick-ass freshman dorm, do a shot of Goldschlager or learn your secret sorority handshake.
OK, I got up and worked out today...definitely going to start eating healthier...I'm turning over a new -- fuck you, co-worker who brought in donuts. I'll take four.
My roommate is almost impressively lazy and unmotivated. The other day, she asked me how I manage to stay so thin and I thought to myself "I just watch everything you do, and then do the opposite."
I don't know why I can't wear jeans to work...my jeans cost about four times more than any of my work clothes.
I hope there is a special place in hell for people who send long, involved work-related e-mails on holiday weekends. Yes, I see that you are working while I'm at the bar and I know you are trying to make me feel bad. And I do. For you.
At what point in our relationship will my boyfriend learn that if he makes fun of me for eating more than he does at dinner there is no chance we will be making out later?
The number of hours I work a week is inversely proportional to how much time I spend getting ready for work...something about working 14 hour days makes me feel like I have carte blanche to look like I just rolled out of bed while I do it.
If you come back from "vacation" and all you did was drive a hour and a half north to go camping I'm totally judging you, despite all that one with nature bullshit.
Discovering XM's Broadway channel has significantly increased my nerd quotient. Yeah, I'm the girl shamelessly belting out all the words to "Don't Cry for Me, Argentina" with the windows down and the system up.
After witnessing my office fantasy draft yesterday, I realized I'm the only person here who does not give a rat's ass about imaginary sports.
Walking through Target the other day I saw "Four Weddings and a Funeral" on DVD and found myself thinking they should just call it "Five Funerals."
Oh, little intern...all summer you have consistently screwed up every project I gave you and I retaliated with menial, mind-numbing work and making you run my personal errands. But today? You go back to college. You win, you little fuck. You win.
At Target last night I spent less than $50 and didn't have to sign the credit card machine. I wanted to run triumphantly into the parking lot, secure in my victory over the money pit that is Target. Until I spent $86 on Target on-line today.
I went to a water park with one of my guy friends this weekend and we were both feeling kind of fat. Four hours later, after scoping out the overweight, excessively tattooed, fu-man-chu sporting water park population we left feeling like supermodels.
I'm 30 years old and there is certainly nothing incriminating on my Facebook profile....so why is it that when my Mom decides to join Facebook yesterday I suddenly feel like I'm 13 years old and she's reading my diary?
Whenever a new person comes to my house for the first time they comment that my kitchen is spotless. Why yes...yes it is. Because I've never used it.
On a trip to Mexico I challenged my boyfriend to a drinking competition and won easily. Given that he is much bigger than me I'm kind of torn: Do I celebrate wildly or tell my parents I'm finally ready for my very own episode of Intervention?
If it takes 5 Jack and Cokes on a 9AM flight to handle sitting next to your own kids, maybe you should have stuck to sex for recreation as opposed to procreation.
Whenever I interview a female for a position at my male-dominated firm the first question when I walk out of the room is ALWAYS "Is she hot??" I've finally started answering "Yes, she is. And she doesn't look overly litigious either. Go for it."
Desperately needing a Band-Aid because I accidentally bit my own hand while ravenously devouring pizza? Embarrassing. Only having a SpongeBob Band-Aid to stop the flow of blood? Worse. Wearing it to work the next day? I'm never eating pizza again.
At what age am I going to wake up the morning after a wedding reception NOT still in the dress I wore to it?
Mom & Dad: If you are going to expect me to drive an hour each way to your house, I'm going to expect you to cook me dinner much more delicious than I could make myself at home.
I love my Dad, but hate introducing him to new friends. It never fails, within minutes he's regaling them with tales of me almost blowing up the house, driving into the garage and misinterpreting the word "gentiles" as "genitals" in Sunday School.
My socially awkward roommate has finally found an equally socially awkward boyfriend. I now get to watch them snuggle on the couch at night. I feel like I'm watching the Discovery Channel, only instead of watching mammals mate I'm watching dorks.
Looking at my bank balance online, I realized that I only go to ATM's located in bars or casinos. Apparently, I don't mind paying a premium for easy withdrawals.
I'm 5'10 and every time a short guy hits on me I think he's trying to improve his chances of producing normal-sized kids. Nice try, Munchkin, but you can take your midget game elsewhere.
I just re-discovered all the CD's I burned in college. Move over iPod, its time to bring back "Ultimate Frat Party," "Party in My Pants '02" and "The Sauce is My Boss and I'm Working Overtime."
Don't get me wrong, I thought The Hangover was hilarious. But I don't want to join your wolfpack. Ever.
Whenever I get an intern assigned to "assist" me on a project I die a little bit inside. At this point in my career, I know that means I'm going to spend the next week babysitting him, then re-doing the smoldering pile of excrement he sends me.
Choosing the wrong IM screen name apparently WILL haunt you for life. Case in point, my friend Gina wanted "Bad-Ass Gina" as a screen name, but felt it was too long. Her eventual choice of "Bagina" is still her name...and it still rhymes with vagina.
Its interesting trying to strike the delicate balance between being having so much fun at the bar that the bartenders want to throw you out, and spending so much money that they just can't do it.
Given that you would have to pay me to sleep outside or touch a dying fish, how in the hell did activities like camping and fishing turn into vacation ideas??
After Cleveland traded for Shaq, one of my friends admitted that his first-ever CD purchase was "Shaq Diesel." We badgered him relentlessly...although I stand by my purchase of "Poison" by Bel Biv DeVoe. You don't mess with the East Coast Family.
I run most mornings before work and the most dangerous intersection I pass is fucking Dunkin' Donuts. OK aging desperate housewife, I know you have big plans to crush 4 Xanax into your mocha latte ASAP but I'm trying to work out here, bitch.
I love being the person at a party who has to throw out the rule that none of these pictures are ever going to see the light of Facebook. I kind of enjoy my career/relationship/dignity and I'd like to keep it intact.
I feel equally proud and ashamed when I leave a wedding reception knowing full well that I will later be named the Wedding Video All-Star Freestyle Dancefloor Champion.
I've never agreed more with a statement about relationships than I did with my friend when she looked at me and said "I want to find a guy who likes me approximately half as much as my dog does."
No part of me wants to have children. But, it's a pretty close race between my vagina and my wallet over who wants to have them the least.
Just like cats, small children know if you secretly hate them and are instantly all over you. Even when surrounded by my most maternal friends, put me in a room with a bunch of kids and you would think I'm the fucking Child Whisperer.
I'm 30 years old...so what is it about being with my college friends en masse that sends me spiraling back into bad behavior and poor life decisions college-style? I'm sure the open bar present at most weddings is a large contributing factor.
At a bachelorette party this weekend I found myself wondering why girls have to drink out of penis straws and wear penis necklaces but not the other way around. I would love to see a guy wear a vagina necklace and drink out of a clitoris straw.
As I watch the mass exodus of the men from my office many a beautiful afternoon I remind myself that I really, really need to learn to fucking golf.
I weigh about the same as I did in college. So why have I gone from a size 8 to a size 4 in most stores? I'm looking at you, Express and Ann Taylor. Not that I don't love it as much as the next girl, but vanity sizing has gone too damn far.
Today at lunch my boyfriend commented that I drink a lot more than he does when we go out. I had to restrain myself from telling him he should be happy about this, otherwise we'd have way less frequent sex.
Trip to Aruba with my family: Totally free, very relaxing and I didn't spend the week drinking to vomit-inducing excess. I feel like I just checked out of the Caribbean Betty Ford Clinic.
Song remixes: Why? Why do you have to go and ruin the song just so it can be played in Ecstasy-fueled, glowstick-waving techno dance clubs?
If I meet you and you introduce yourself to me as "Michael" and I call you "Mike" and you correct me because you only go by "Michael" I'm just going to go ahead and assume that you are a self-important douchebag.
Last night my boyfriend took me to my first playoff hockey game. It was awesome...for me. Given that my entire body of hockey knowledge is based on playing Blades of Steel and watching the Mighty Ducks trilogy, I think I got annoying around the fifth time I asked when I was going to see a fight or, better yet, a Flying V.
After last weekend, when my parents witnessed my 30th birthday, my sister's 26th birthday and my other sister vomiting on her phone and breaking it, I'm sure they are busily trying to schedule a family-wide intervention.
Yes, I think half a box of Honey Wheat Wheatables and a bottle of chardonnay is a perfectly acceptable dinner. Quit judging me, roommate.
Today is my 30th birthday, and if that didn't put me in a weird enough mood I just got a Hallmark e-card from an older, married client. Thanks, Creepy McCreepster. A simple Facebook wall post would have been sufficient and (slightly) less disturbing.
Last night one of my friends suggested we play "drinking Catchprase." I was unaware there was any other way to play Catchphrase....
You say all your relationships end in disaster? Well, what is the one common thing in all of them? Oh, right...that would be you.
A few years back, I went to a meeting with my boss and the guy we met with was named Dirk. Then he gives me his business card and his last name was Wild. Dirk Wild. It took every ounce of strength in my being not to ask him how he wound up an accountant as opposed to the first porn star ever who wouldn't need a stage name.
When I go on vacation, you had better believe I'm hoping its raining and miserable for everyone back home.
Oh the dumb things we do when hungover. On Sunday, my friend woke up late at a bachelor party in Atlantic City....got lost on his way to La Guardia....barely made it in time for his flight....which, unfortunately, was out of Newark.
I hate waking up after a long night of drinking with that vague, uncomfortable and yet totally certain feeling that at some point during the day I'm going to need to apologize to someone. For something. I haven't remembered what just yet, but I'm sure Drunk Me has fucked up yet again.
Facebook for mobile phone has gone too far. If you are posting status updates while you are in LABOR, as in, producing a child, I'm de-friending you faster than your cervix can dilate those last three centimeters.
Some days I wonder why I continue to pay for satellite radio. Then there are those bright, shining mornings like today when I heard Another Bad Creation, Skee-Lo, Snow and Positive K in a half-hour window. I love you, 90's on 9. I will never doubt you again. Although, I may spend the whole day at work singing the chorus to "Iesha."
I think smokers have firmly established themselves as the lepers of modern society.
The Pareto Principle says that for many events, roughly 80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes. I think that applies perfectly to Facebook, because 80% of my home page is dominated by the 20% of my Facebook friends I could fucking care less about.
Apparently, I have not matured much since grade school. Whenever we had a substitute teacher I did nothing but play M.A.S.H. and pass notes to my friends. Fast forward 20 years and whenever all the partners at my firm are gone I make planning a lunchtime trip to the bar my number one priority.
There is such a marked difference in the enthusiasm level between the flight to Las Vegas and the flight home.
After a dinner party where my boyfriend and I were the only non-married couple in attendance we made a vow that will forever be a pilar of our relationship: We are never, ever getting Netflix.
Its Opening Day today and one of my friends told me yesterday his company is closed today. Instantly I responded with "Oh my God, you get Opening Day off? You have the coolest boss EVER!" Then he told me its also Good Friday today, which was news to me. It official, I'm going to hell.
Nothing passes a boring day at work better than a rousing game of Kill, Marry, Fuck with co-workers as the only possible choices. Company Sexual Harassment Policy? Yeah, we're just going to ignore you for a little while, OK?
WTF, American Express, why do you keep sending me those yearly summaries that show how much money I spent during the year and where I spent it? Unless you can give me the $12,824 I spent in the "Dining and Bars" category back, I'm better off not knowing.
My Facebook home page is being absolutely dominated by those stupid Facebook quizzes. I'm waiting for the "Which Facebook Quiz Are You?" quiz to show up and bring the insanity full circle.
I was reading Women's Health this weekend and came across an article entitled "Cheat-Proof His Love." If I was writing that article, it would consist of one sentence and one sentence only: Become very good at, and very enthusiastic about giving, blow jobs. Seriously, Women's Health, men are simple creatures!
In the most stunning display of stupidity I've exhibited recently, I left my Blackberry at work overnight. I thought I could make it through a night without it but by the time I got to work in the morning I was weeping like Tom Hanks in "Cast Away" when he rescued Wilson from the ocean.
I think I've reached a new low: Hands down, the best part of my day was realizing the Subway near my office now stocks Garden Salsa Sun Chips.
If you try to relate everything in life to an episode of Seinfeld there is a 100% chance I stopped listening to you long ago. Oh, and I hate you.
I just got an e-mail from my Mom trying to schedule a family dinner for Sunday....around the couples massage my parents have planned at a spa. This piece of information has skyrocketed to the top of the "Things I Wish I Didn't Know" list faster than even I had thought possible.
When I first got out of college my parents told me I needed to find a "sophisticated drink" and stop drinking Natty Light bottles. This sent me spiraling into a yearlong journey on the one-way train to Camp Blackout courtesy of dirty martinis, Grey Goose gimlets and chardonnay until I realized that I can't consume "sophisticated drinks" at the same ratio as Natty Light bottles.
Weighing myself on Monday morning and assessing the damage done from a weekend of gluttony is like seeing live footage of a plane crash. I know I shouldn't watch, I know it will only upset me but I just can't turn away from the carnage.
The Soap Opera Network is like Saturday morning cartoons for girls. The "Donna Martin Graduates" episode of 90210 followed by The O.C. and One Tree Hill? Yes, please, I'll take four hours of my life I can never have back. Looks like I'll be going to the bank/dry cleaners/grocery store another time.
Really, Kelly Clarkson -- "My Life Would Suck Without You"? I'm not denying the catchiness of the song, but I liked it better when it was "Since You Been Gone".
I choose the least appropriate times to bust out song lyrics. The other day, a friend going through a divorce told me his wife is "opportunistic." Without thinking I responded "Well, some girls are sophistic, materialistic, lookin for a man makes them opportunistic....you know, at least according to Young MC."
Growing up in public school, Easter is one of those holidays I just didn't get into...until this year when a high school friend introduced the "You Found It, You Pound it" Easter Beer Hunt. Easter, your stock is rising.
Every morning, old man, every morning you change my TV at the gym from Saved by the Bell to CNBC without asking, forcing me to change it back, glaring daggers at you the entire time. If you want to break the rule about hitting a girl, I will break the rule about kicking you in your old-man balls. You are swiftly establishing yourself as my arch nemesis, you old goat.
If you can't remember the last time you drank something that wasn't A) caffeinated or B) alcoholic, maybe it’s time to slow it down a little bit, tiger.
I don't smoke or do drugs and I'm not one of those girls who has random sex or eats their feelings. But at least a few times a week I find myself thinking that I fully understand why and how people become alcoholics.
Worst idea ever: the dry wedding reception. Don't people realize that the best part of a wedding is trying to drink your gift's value in top shelf liquor?
When I was a kid, I would come home from school and ask my Mom what "fucking" meant and she would get all embarrassed and flustered. Now, my parents overhear a slang term and ask me what "the shocker" means and I just offer to teach them to use the Urban Dictionary to avoid such awkward conversations ever again.
I absolutely hate embarking on the shameful, hung over credit card retrieval mission when you aren't totally sure which of five bars you left it in. I think I need the Amber Alert system for my AMEX.
My firm has a family-type atmosphere and that's cool. However, this should not extend to describing in great detail, and sending the pictures from, your wife's first ultrasound. Now every time I see her at a work function, I think "Yeah, I've seen inside your uterus."
Our phone technician looks like a raging, leather-pants-and-Transition-lenses-wearing, colored-condom-carrying, Zima-swilling pedophile. Because of this, and the lessons instilled in me by my parents to not talk to strange, overly friendly men, I cannot carry on a conversation with him to save my life. Good parenting, Mom and Dad.
The last time I tried to clean out my bedside table drawer I came across a package of condoms....that had expired. I didn't even know latex had a shelf life. Thanks for making me feel like a total loser, Trojan ENZ's.
Not Responding, work computer? That's great, I'll just sit here and wait for you...OK, you're back...no wait, frozen again? How about I just put my fist through your monitor and see how you respond to that? You are a piece of shit.
Daytime drinking kicks nighttime drinking's ass. Every single time.
Its totally impossible to hear Dave Matthews Band and not think about making out.
I had to call a parking company to argue a ticket because I had paid the attendant when I arrived. The company rep informed me that this company doesn't have parking attendants, just a pay box, and that I had apparently paid a rather enterprising homeless man. I asked if he could tell the difference between the homeless and a downtown parking attendant. Yeah, I got out of that ticket.
Southwest should change it's slogan to "The Greyhound of the Skies."
I've watched "Snatch" three times and finally had to give up on ever having a fucking clue what anyone in that movie is saying. Yet somehow every guy I know can quote it verbatim.
Conversation with my Mom this weekend: Mom: "I think you're addicted to exercise and that's unhealthy." Me: "I can see that....but if I'm going to be addicted to something, wouldn't you rather it be exercise and not, say, freebasing crack or meaningless sex?" She sighed deeply and shook her head like she had failed as a parent. Mission accomplished.
Has anyone ever beaten Brickbreaker? Despite sitting through a mandatory 40 hours of continuing education per year combined with above average manual dexterity, I cannot get past level 8. My Blackberry is sitting here right now and I think it's taunting me.
Nothing makes me feel like a bigger fat ass than putting on jeans straight out of the dryer. I know they will stretch out but that does not deter me from doing squats and lunges all over my bedroom and swearing off solid food for days.
I've been out of school for six and a half years. Therefore, when I meet someone and they ask me if I was in a sorority and I tell them I was I love how I still get the following response: "Oh, they were bitches/whores/geeks at MY school." Really? I'm pretty sure the statute of limitations for judging me on my Greek affiliation has past. But we were awesome at MY school....promise.
One of my friends is giving up drinking for Lent. I'm equal parts upset over what this is going to do to our friendship and impressed she would even consider such a feat. I can't give up drinking for 40 straight hours, much less 40 straight days. I'm totally sure I won't be seeing her again until Easter.
Despite having an advanced degree, I'm still reduced to a quivering mass of incompetency when faced with simple office tasks. Make an address label? Beyond me. Fix a paper jam? Oh hell no, I'll just sneak back to my desk unnoticed and pretend I didn't do it. Conference in my boss? Easily the most stressful moment of my day.
I got to work today and discovered three bottles of wine on my desk that I had ordered through a co-worker. About an hour later, my boss let me know he was leaving early for the weekend. The entire rest of my day has been dedicated to determining which office supply most closely resembles a corkscrew. Staple remover, I'm counting on you...
I saw "Office Space" for the first time ever in college and thought it wasn't very funny. Now when I watch it I think its hilarious because it so closely approximates my life....and that is kind of sad.
Last night at Panera, the teenager behind the counter handed me my order and said "Have a nice night, Ma'am." I must have looked at him like I was going to rip his testicles off because he took a few precautionary steps back and said "Whoa. I'm, um, sorry?"
Although I rationally know that the chances of it actually happening are non-existent, every time some asshole throws a lit cigarette out of a nearby car, I'm frozen in fear that it is somehow going to hit my car and make it explode.
I read that drinking a full glass of water can help to curb hunger. I think that is total BS. A full beer, however, that does the trick every time.
Waiting for my friends at a crowded bar I looked around and saw I was Facebook friends with no less than 20 people in the bar, but had zero desire to talk to any of them. So I drank my beer and played Brickbreaker on my Blackberry in contented, anti-social silence until my real friends showed up.
I think every girl has a friend they consider their "slutty" friend. Because let's face it, if you don't have a slutty friend, its you.
I think Valentine's Day is a pretty stupid holiday. Therefore, I do NOT want to send a Valentine's Day gift to any of my Facebook friends, even if it is delivered magically at midnight on February 14th. Step off, Facebook. Step off.
Red Bull, you and I have had a good run. However, you have contributed to many trips to Camp Blackout over the past few months and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ban you from my drinking rotation. Please take a seat over there with the Captain, Southern Comfort, Firewater, flavored Jell-O and chopped fruit. It's a bit of a ragtag bunch, but you are in good company.
Halfway through the weight loss competition and I'm not doing so well with it. My new strategy is either 1) Virulent stomach virus or 2) Contract a parasite. Give up drinking and pizza? No chance.
My roommate must think I have Tourette's or poorly managed anger issues, because she always manages to catch me as I'm getting off the phone with my Mom, shaking my head and screaming "Goddammit!!"
25 Things About Me....48 Random Facts...Questions About Your Firstborn....its official: the Facebook "random facts" application is multiplying like a wet, full Gremlin after midnight.
I would love it if my co-workers would implement the same rule my boyfriend and I have: If you call me at work, you had better be bleeding profusely. None of this "calling to talk" BS. And especially, no baby talk. Ever. This is work, not fucking Romper Room.
I bought new shampoo and conditioner and could not for the life of me figure out what it smelled like. Yesterday, as I washed my hair with a raging hangover, I suddenly realized it smells overwhelmingly like Washington Apple shots and started dry heaving in the shower. That is not a funny joke, Back to Basics.
One of my friends swears he will marry the first girl who sends him over a drink in a bar. I feel the same way about the first guy who sends me a long-distance dedication on Casey Kasem's Weekly Top 40.
There is nothing more embarrassing than our annual weight-loss contest at work. Not only did I have to weigh in in front of my entire firm but its team based, which means I have to spend the next 10 weeks trying to sabotage "The Church of the Fatter Day Saints."
My friend's mom decided to "surprise" him with a Christmas gift and bought him binoculars....that have a built-in camera. He was fairly insulted, and then had to explain to his entire extended family that he isn't actually a pervert and maybe his mom just needs to stop ordering gifts off the late night QVC shows.
I know there are many other, more pressing issues out there but the first politician who passes a law that when your school district doesn't have school you don't have to go to work is my new hero.
My co-workers like to party and hungover Friday is a common occurrence. However, today my friend took it up a very competitive notch when she went out to get beef jerky, ate half the bag, took a closer look and realized she was eating Hartz moist and meaty dog treats. If she gets sick, we're planning on taking her to the vet.
I think it's hilarious that my mother is horrified by the idea that I don't want kids. She thinks I'm selfish and shallow. What she doesn't realize is, if I'm so selfish and shallow -- whose fault is that? And if so, maybe I shouldn't pass it on.
I just made a comment about Gremlins in front of my 23 year old co-worker and he didn't know what a Gremlin is...I tried explaining about not feeding them after midnight, not getting them wet -- no dice. There is nothing quite like feeling super old on a Friday afternoon.
Microsoft Office Auto-Format: I absolutely fucking hate you with every fiber of my being.
There is no group of people I know less, yet hate more, than the women in the locker room with me in the gym every morning. It may have something to do with constantly having a naked stranger in my way when I just want to dry my hair.
I love the holidays but I feel like the parties are all the same. I know its so much classier to have wine tastings and martinis but just once I would love to walk into a holiday party and find everyone playing "Edward 40-Hands" college-style.
I think the desperation I feel to make it home and go to the bathroom after multiple happy hour drinks is directly proportional to the number of traffic lights I'll hit on the way home. Added bonus if there is a cop behind me and I have to weigh the relative embarrassment of a speeding ticket/DUI vs. peeing my pants in the car.
I've heard you learn something new every day. I don't necessarily believe that but today at work I learned that if its in a travel mug no one thinks "beer."
Bud Light: The difference is drinkability? And do by that do you mean I can drink 12 of them and still successfully perform open heart surgery?
OK, bitter cashier in the deli in my building, I realize I just paid for my $.97 bagel with a credit card but glaring at me while you wait for my AMEX to process isn't going to make me remember to hit up the ATM any faster.
Nothing good has ever come from a camera phone picture.....and no, I don't want to see how a picture of me passed out comes up on your phone every time I call you.
Going back to work after a few days off is no different than going back to high school after a break...because this morning I couldn't remember my voicemail password the same way I could never remember my locker combination in high school. Fuck.
Don't get me wrong, I'm very excited for Thanksgiving. But I'm equally excited for Thanksgiving to be over so I can start playing the Chipmunks Christmas CD and hoping that this is the year Alvin gets his hula hoop.
Its been a pretty busy day at work and tensions have been running high but one thing will bring everyone together in harmony -- sending an intern out for a Chipotle run at lunch. The fat kid in me is 100% positive this is the best part of my day.
I just impressed the hell out of my co-workers by correctly spelling "Notorious" for our boss. I'm equal parts shocked that no one else knows all the words to "Going Back to Cali" and happy I remembered to shut up before I added "You just lay down slow."
The Q-Tips marketing department has clearly got it all wrong. Looking at the back of the box it suggests using Q-Tips to clean my computer keyboard, apply ointments and do household chores but I have only used Q-Tips for one thing, ever: to clean my ears.
Its the end of November and snowing in a lot of the country yet this morning I heard "Summertime" by DJ Jazzy Jeff on the radio. Really, Sirius/XM? Isn't that just one big "Fuck you?"
Does anyone look at their 401(k) during the economic crisis? I don't -- I don't want to depress myself with the realization that I will owe money if I ever want to retire.
You know you're advancing in the corporate world when "Yeah, I've got a voicemail!" turns into "Fuck, I've got a voicemail."
Someone in my office just sent around a link to a live streaming video of a litter of Shiba Inu puppies. Its probably the cutest productivity-destroying website ever. All we've done for the past 15 minutes is comment on how adorable they are and take bets on the winner when an impromptu puppy fight break out.
Guys: I know it looks fun, but its never OK to ride the mechanical bull in a bar. You are going to look like a bigger douche than Luke Perry in "8 Seconds" -- guaranteed.
If you work in food service and wake up one morning sporting a goiter the size of a softball on your neck, maybe the right thing to do is NOT come in to work that day. I'm looking at you, lunch lady in the grossly overpriced deli in my building. At least I know in advance what is going to be haunting my dreams tonight.
Is it immature that right before I submit a report to my boss I switch the font to Wingdings and picture his reaction? And does it make me a wuss when I switch it back before I send it?
I've never encountered anyone who drinks non-alcoholic beer who didn't used to be a raging alcoholic. Whenever I'm out with clients and a guy who looks like he's lived some hard years orders an O'Douls I laugh to myself, but wonder if I'm looking my future in the face.
As a kid on Halloween, there is nothing better than the rich family on your street who handed out full-sized candy bars.
Watching my parents storm the dance floor to bust out the "Thriller" zombie dance at my sister's wedding last weekend, I was struck by the realization that they are the reason I'm an embarrassingly bad dancer.
I just changed my relationship status on Facebook and I got more wall posts about it than I did on my birthday. Because lets be honest, that's all people are really interested in anyhow.
Google mail now has an avoid drunk e-mail function that asks "are you sure you want to send this message?" and requires you to answer a few simple math questions before your message is sent during the nighttime weekend hours. My faith that the breathalyzer cell phone can't be far behind has been officially restored.
I have to give credit to my elementary school teacher friends. If a kid came up to me while I was wearing "fuck me" boots and said "Those are the same boots my Mommy wears to the bars!" I would lose it instantly, yet my friend keeps a straight face and goes right back to her lesson on adding fractions.
Driving to a meeting this morning, extremely late and going 30 miles over the speed limit I had a moment of clarity and thought "Holy shit, slow down!" Not because I finally figured out that being a few minutes late to work wasn't worth a speeding ticket, but because I realized just how wasted I was from the night before and feared the residual DUI.
Whenever I'm faced with some ridiculous shot at the bar and I don't want to do it, I think to myself "this is no worse than Fresh Burst Listerine for 30 seconds a day, morning and night" and actually, that helps.
One of my girlfriends, who currently resides in that vaguely uncomfortable "not yet legally divorced but already in another relationship" category just joined Facebook. When she asked me if she should select "Married" or "In a Relationship" for her status I suggested "C. All of the above" and wow, that did NOT go over well.
One of my friends was called for jury duty where a bouncer was being sued for beating the crap out of a bar patron. She looked at the bouncer and realized he works at her favorite bar so she actually told the judge she had a conflict of interest "because if he recognizes me he might not let me in the bar and its my favorite bar." She was excused from the jury and is pretty happy about her full disclosure, but I think the judge excused her to avoid having a complete moron on the jury.
Every time I see someone with a Chinese tattoo I ask them what it means and its always some deep, existential phrase....but the person never actually speaks Chinese. So how do they know it doesn't say "douchebag?" Because that is how I interpret it.
There is no one I'm more jealous of than my first friend to text me from happy hour on a beautiful Friday afternoon. Fuck you, teachers!!!!
Is it ever possible to go to Target without spending at least $100??
Whenever I go to the bar for happy hour I promise myself I'll say no to credit card roulette when the check comes...but after two to eight hours of drinking I just don't want to deal with trying to split the bill so I'm in every single time.
Everyone I know hates Mondays during football season but I actually hate Tuesdays more, because I have to spend Tuesday re-doing whatever I worked on Monday while I was still drunk/hungover from a primetime game.
I'm on the board of a non-profit and a few other board members have their own businesses. Well, I don't so when you ask if I can go to a meeting on Thursday morning and I respond with "I can't meet during work hours" and your alternate suggestion is to meet at 4:30 the same day my only responses are 1) What part of "work hours" don't you understand? and 2) God, I fucking hate you.
My Mom gave me some great advice this weekend about being more honest with people, even when the truth is hard to hear. Trying to put this into practice, when she asked if I liked her mother-of-the-bride's dress I said it wasn't especially age-appropriate. Apparently, this advice did not apply to HER as she still isn't talking to me.
Our e-mail spam filter at work is getting out of control. This morning I discovered it had "quarantined" twelve work-related e-mails from the previous day, yet the message from Dan D. Dicks about wild orgies with underage Dominican hookers made it through just fine.
I'm 29 now and when I was first out of college I got annoyed when an "old" (over 30) guy hit on me in the bar. At the bar this weekend, a 21 year old was hitting on me like a hammer and two thoughts kept running through my mind: 1) Does his mother know he's here? and 2) Why don't I meet 30 year olds in bars anymore?
Last night in the bar one of my friends asked if I would rather give up drinking or sex for an entire year and after giving it almost 24 hours worth of thought I still don't have an answer. The sad thing is that I can't stop going back and forth on it, like this is an actual choice I'm going to have to make in the foreseeable future.
I know this is a common thread but being single is NOT the worst thing in the world. Case in point...at a party this weekend, one of my coupled up friends told me she was sure I'd meet a great guy soon.....however, her own boyfriend is a 23 year old not-quite-legal Mexican immigrant with 2 kids who is also not-quite-divorced and lives in the basement of his not-quite-ex-in-laws house. Honestly, it was better for my self esteem than a crystal meth marathon on "Intervention."
I know I'm getting older because my friends are trying to class up opportunities to get hammered. For example, tomorrow night I'm going to a "scotch tasting." Is it me, or is that just an excuse to do shots of Chivas on a Tuesday? I have no problem with it but lets call a spade a spade here.
I'm always late for everything....work, family events, dates, you name it. But when football season starts and its tailgating time (or any other opportunity to drink all day) I will be standing on my friends doorsteps five minutes before we have to leave yelling at everyone to get in the car or we are going to be late and not get a good spot in the parking lot....at least I have my priorities straight.
I work mostly with men and we have a big fantasy football draft for our clients (again, mostly men) and usually the "runners" for the draft are girls from my firm dressed up as cheerleaders. This year everyone decided that was too "sexist" so we had to wear football jerseys and gym shorts instead. Our team colors are orange and brown so I wore the only pair of orange shorts I own -- the bottoms to my Hooters waitress Halloween costume. Seriously, sexism should have been the least of my worries as ten different guys called me out on it.
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