Wants to go to Paris in the 50s

I'm blogging and watching Julie and Julia... it's the 5th dimension!
I will be seeing Did You Hear About the Morgans? It is decidedly so.

JD took me out to dinner at the Lyon Grill. It's a wonderful restaurant. FABULOUS sweet potato fries. I spilled... a lot. There was this old couple at the table across from us and like usual I made up stories about their potential lives. I tried to figure out of it was a date. Neither had wedding rings on. She was dressed respectfully for the dinner. He was wearing a puffy vest and was covered in grease. I couldn't stop thinking about them having sex. It was like a sad movie. I couldn't avert my eyes from the way that man ate french fries. Shutter.

To my main point:
What is with restaurants offering steamed vegetables and putting no seasoning on them?! The have trained chefs with an arsenal of herbs and spices and they put out plain steamed broccoli and carrots? Fail. No wonder people are so fat. You can't eat that stuff. I can whip up an amazing vegetable spread without butter or oil. I'll cook all the veggies in a kitchen 3 nights a week for minimum wage and left over cole slaw if they'll teach me how to make other foods.

As a side note, I hit a car in the parking lot at work. Drive fail. It is a full moon. My uterus is freaking out. In the last 24 hours, I've had 2 good hours of not crying and not feeling like I might at the drop of a hat.
Vegas in... 11 days!

Things I already see wrong with Julie/Julia:
Julie claims to have never eaten an egg, and yet she describes 2 dishes at the very beginning that contain eggs. Chocolate cake? Eggs. Holendaise? Eggs! She is a liar.
I do not believe that Julie conceived her blog with the idea that she would become famous. I find it far more likely that she tried 8 things first that she gave up on and eventually felt so bad about herself she made the goal of the cooking.
What is with the freaking pins?
I want to punch Julie in the face.

On the plus side, the Julia parts are magnificent.
I liked the part with the lobster.

3 beers and an rerun later

Dear ProRun,
That jacket? Are you kidding me?! "This is how people dress" -Mikey Kores(sp?) Those track pants were high waisted!! If "this is how people dress" is what the designers should be shooting for, why don't they just make Mikey Mouse patterned fleece jim jam bottoms with crocs and a men's shirt? Huh?
Signed,
Smells bacon

I didn't mean to complain...

Minor complaint: I am an hourly employee and therefore cannot work over 40 hours. Cannot. I don’t know whether or not I’ll get paid for going over 40 but I was told not to try. That’s ok. I’m quite accurate. I come in a few minutes early and have no problem holding out my punching in. I punch out at exactly 5pm without issue. My problem lies in my MM. She sits at my desk during lunch so she can let people in the building. She does not prepare herself to leave my desk until 4 minutes after I’ve returned from lunch. I have to quite my book reading 10 minutes early so I have time to pee, go get the mail, and wait for her. Some days my waiting changes. Sometimes she gets ready to leave when I show up. Sometimes she has stepped away from my desk and I punch myself out in her absence. More often than not, though she’ll sit here for several minutes talking to herself. Occasionally, she’ll be talking to someone else. One time, I waited 10 minutes because instead of saying, “Let’s move this conversation to my desk so I can get out of her away.” She sat in my chair and chatted with her boss. It was work related, yes. And it mildly required her to be at a computer, MILDLY. But it was rude nonetheless.

This is what I don’t like about “nice” people. “Nice” people are regular people who drop everything to listen to you. “Nice” people say “happy to serve you” and “glad I could be of assistance.” The down side of “nice” people is that if you’re not the one asking for a favor, if you’re not the most important person in the room, “nice” people put you last. “Nice” people don’t recognize that you are hourly and not salary and so it matters whether or not you come in on time/come back from lunch on time. “Nice” people ignore you and your project/meeting/plees for help because someone has decided to talk about their four-wheeling vacation. I realize that you're willing to give up your time and attention for other people, but I'm not willing to give mine up for you. So GTFO my chair.
Monday, I swear, I’m going to tell her to move. I am not going to be nice or considerate. I’m going to say “Listen, when I get back from bringing the mail in, would you at least minimize your computer screen to let me punch back in.” I will practice so I don’t say something passive aggressive like, “… so I don’t have to punch in 5 minutes late like I had to every single day last week” “… because sometimes you sit there for a long time talking to yourself and it would be less agitating to wait for you to move if I was already clocked back in” “…because, unlike you, I enjoy being a timely employee.”

Still work related, but about someone else:

“Do you have an appointment?”
“I haven’t gotten a hold of him but I’ve left several messages and told him I was coming.”
That doesn’t constitute as an appointment. When will people learn?!

me: Story:
there's this crazy audit lady
JD: Kiss
me: she came over to my desk before leaving and said (a little TOO dramatically): before I touch your door, I better get some of this (my germ-x) as I have a terrible cold!
and then held her hand under the pump and waited
Oh lady, you haven't met me have you
I was like ummm you can touch it
JD: lol
Ohh man
me: and then she argued with me
JD: did you end up pumping her lotion for her?
me: well i don't want to get my cold all over the pump
i was like it washes the germs right off. you can do it
JD: oh christ, I can just see the stand-off
me: "well i don't want other people to get my germs on them"
well if they're touching the pump, they'll wash all their germs right off. I don't want to touch it
eventually she did
JD: Way to hold out.
me: I'M NOT THE AUDITORS FREAKING SLAVE!


Dear Tim Horton’s,
Fruit Explosion muffin? Indeed!
Thanks,
Me

I'll make you wish it was still Free Ham Day

I am in a piss poor mood. Piss Poor I say!

“Just call the airport” is my Kryptonite. It makes me feel so insecure and idiotic that I want to strangle people. If you don’t want to pay to change your flight… don’t change your flight. I’m not a goddamn magician and I don’t have any fucking pull with the airport. And if you seem to think that the airport is that willing to give you a better price, you call them! Tell them who you are and what you do and how important it is you get home at 11pm tonight instead of 11am tomorrow morning (Which, BTW, you could have been home earlier but getting home wasn't important enough for you to be on the 6am flight), and see if they give more of a shit than I do. Maybe they will because they don’t double check your flight options with you multiple times. They don’t give you all of your pricing and time availabilities. They don’t have to CONSTANTLY change your flights. It’s no wonder we spend so much on flying when everyone treats it like it’s free and convenient. If you want to travel at times and dates most convenient for you without restrictions… FLY YOUR OWN DAMN PLANE!

Analogies I’ve made up to compare with the way these people treat flight itineraries:
*It’s like going to the grocery store and having $150 in groceries then telling the check out person: “That’s too much. I only want to pay $75.” “Well, do you have any coupons?” “No.” “Then there’s nothing I can do for you.” “Just call the airport.”
*It’s like going to McDonald’s and ordering something, taking it home, eating the sandwich out of it and calling to exchange your fries for a new sandwich. At no cost.
One horrible day: *It’s like going to McDonalds and ordering and paying and then changing your mind before they give you your food so you get refunded and place a new order. And you do that 3 times. And then you take your sandwich home and decide you want something different so you bring it back to McDonalds and try to exchange it for a new sandwich, but they don’t let you. So they give you store credit on your old meal and you purchase a new meal, eat the fries there, and then decide you want a different sandwich so you try to exchange your old sandwich for a new one 5 minutes before the store closes.

If I ever forget and ask, the answer is: no; I don’t like Panera Bread. And to that, what are high schoolers doing gallivanting around on a Thursday afternoon? Back in my day, lunch was 35 minutes and school ended at 2:30 so they have no need to be at Panera Bread all loud with their braces and sweat pants at noon. Go back to class! And who do you think you are leaving a kid you know passed out in the snow? You should be ashamed of yourself!
I bet when they left they were like, what was up with that old lady on the couch with the ugly face? She must have been like, 30. I’m surprised she knew how to work her iPod.
Also at Panera was an angry-faced guy wearing scrubs ordering around an (please don’t take offense, I’m not sure what his handicap was so I’m being vague here) at least mildly retarded man.

And another thing! TEN DOLLARS FOR A SANDWICH?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!

Come gitchur free ham

Honey Baked Ham called today. They made new ham and they’re traveling it around to businesses who frequent their establishment (such as mine). The Ham Lady actually ASKED if she could bring some FREE HAM by during lunch time. I wanted to say, “Ham Lady, you could have mysteriously dropped off a cake in a garbage bag, and we still would have eaten it.” The ham showed up over 30 minutes late and I was already well into materializing my angry letter to HBH about how they went around teasing free ham. Aside from it being late, it was DELICIOUS. Ham always reminds me of my dad who I unfortunately have mixed feelings about. Fortunately, the ham parts are the good times when he would cook it and let me eat the edge bits that fell off.

There was also a survey to take regarding the ham and it came with a $10 gift certificate. The questions were typical and so were my answers (except for the occasional, “I don’t buy ham, sorry!” This one was worth noting:
* How is the availability of the Homestyle-Sweet Boneless Ham in your local grocery store likely to impact your ham buying habits? (check all that apply)
I enjoy that they used the phrase “ham buying habits.”
Hmm.. it was more funny when I was taking the survey.

I told JD about the ham, and he asked me to save some for him. I brought soup for lunch so I didn’t have a container to put ham in. I picked my tea Ziploc bag out of the trash (which had little to nothing in it besides my empty Triscuit box and laughing cow cheese wrapper) and put it in my purse. The Southerners (a married couple, the husband works with me, but they’re both from North Carolina) usually eat at the same time as I do in the break room but at a different table so I couldn’t steal ham while they were looking. I hovered over the unwrapping of the ham, waiting with a fork and plate. When I sat back down with my huge piece of ham that I did not want to eat all of, I panicked a little. The Southerners were dawdling. They usually leave to go cuddle around noon and it was already 10 after. What was I going to do with all this ham?!
Then people started to show up for it and I got a little sick thinking I was going to have to eat a large plate sized piece of HBH all by myself after I already ate a can of soup. Around a quarter after, TS's left and the room was empty. I quickly sliced and shoveled ham bits into the Ziploc in my purse. Feeling satisfied and like a champion, I went back for a second piece. Immediately afterward, more people came in and the whole panic started over. The ham was good, don’t get me wrong, but it was a lot of ham. I established a plan. If I cut it into pieces now, I could shovel them in one by one when the other people weren’t looking. So, I did. And, it worked! Then, I had to figure out how to get the ham to my car where it could be kept cold without letting up to the amount of ham I actually took. I sneakily placed the bag of ham in my coat pocket at my desk (where my Middle Manager sits while I’m at lunch) which I giggled about all the way to my car. The ham is safe.

A note on TS’s. They’re Christian which is only important to note because they talk about mission trips a lot. Not just between them but to other employees. Today, I overhead Mrs. Southerner say “there’s so much opportunity there!” about some impoverished country they were going to visit. I think she realized what she said and tried to cover it up with “we have so much we can… do… you know?” It just reiterates to me that mission trips are not about helping people unless helping means religious conversion.

Another installment of "Phone Conversations" Starring: People who weren't listening!

Actual phone conversations:
Me: Thank you for calling [the place where I work]
Lady: Hi. Is this South Central Radiology?
Me: No it is not.
Lady: Did I call 734- [7 numbers that have no direct relation with our phone number]
Me: No you did not.

Me: Thank you for calling [the place where I work]
Guy: Yes. Can you give me the phone number for your Rocky Mount office.
Me: It has moved to Raleigh and the phone number is…
Guy: Now, that area code isn’t for Rocky Mount. Did you guys move?
Me: … It has moved to Raleigh.

There’s a guy at work who wears his blue tooth headset like a wedding ring. He often talks on in while he’s peeing. Sometimes, he stands outside the bathroom doors and shouts into it. It’s so loud it feels like he’s in the bathroom with you. If there’s something that can stop pee in its tracks it’s that man’s voice.

Is this cake?

Sometimes I get the song “Be Our Guest” stuck in my head. Only at work and it’s not just occasionally, it’s often. Like, once a week. I don’t know if it’s because the tune is so adaptable, if the lyrics are so generic that I accidentally say parts of them, or if Mrs. Potts is just inside my head.

Dear Aladdin cup company,
If you’re going to label something as a “travel mug,” one of the first qualifications should be “fits in cup holder.” Another should be “doesn’t spill.”
Also, I’d like my twelve dollars back.
Thanks.

My office desk is at the main door. Which means it is the first flat surface on your way in and the first flat surface on your way out. People tend to set things down and then forget all about them. I leave the items out in the open for their owner, but nobody comes. It’s as if they’re saying: “Here; I don’t have the heart to throw this away. Will you please do it for me?” And I usually do because I don’t like clutter in my work space.
This morning there was a large round shaped object in a garbage bag on the corner of my desk. I get in at 8am. Most people who work here get in at 8am. Either someone dropped it off over the weekend, or one of the shop people walked it up to my desk and left it early this morning. I’m a curious person so I poked it and it squished and I was immediately freaked it. I unwrapped part of the garbage bag and found what appeared to be a cake. I bundled it back up and left it there, because surely, someone did not just leave left over birthday cake on my desk. All morning, it was the office chatter. What is this? Who left it? Obviously, it’s cake which you know because you unwrapped the garbage bag. No, I don’t know who left it or else I would have told them to take it along. At least 4 people questioned me about the cake. I got annoyed and took it to the break room where leftovers go to die. This is also the same room I eat lunch in. Alone. Reading a book. People leave food on the “free counter” in the break room all the time. It is not unusual. After Christmas, there were days worth of solid cookies and red wrapped boxed chocolates. People don’t usually question those. They just eat them and go about heating their leftovers in the microwave.
Every person who came in questioned me and the open air about the cake. What is this? Who left it? Why is it shaped like a basket ball? Who would buy a black cake? Is it two tiered? It was as if I did not leave someone’s old cake on the counter, but instead a 3 legged 2 headed goat I slaughtered and attached a note that read, “Please! Ask me about my goat!” Never before has left over food made such a stir. Maybe a memo goes out and that I don’t get copied into when people leave food in there.
“Good morning! Tyler’s b-day went well. I’m glad so many of you could make it. For those of you who missed out (shame on you! Hahah!), I’ve left some of his party cake in the break room—Please help yourself!! I know I don’t need to eat it!! HAHA!!! Have a great day!”

JD, Please note: The cake had dowels in it. !!!!!