1) I picked up a pen last night to write a little note about something and realized that no matter how many revelations I pour out on Blogger, there is nothing quite like putting a pen to paper and watching the words pour from your brain to your wrist to your fingers and onto the page. The simplicity of the ink gliding over even the cheapest paper makes the process of expressing ones self that much more powerful.
Plus my handwriting was On.Point. last night and it looked pretty =)
2) I saw Blonde Bombshell last night.
No chick in tow.
And I can't be sure if it was a reaction to being stared at, but I caught him looking at me REPEATEDLY through the class.
Caddycorner across the room.
In the mirror while I did my crunches.
The OTHER time I was on my back doing crunches.
He was in the rotation directly across from me the whole evening.
When I insisted that he walk into the little back room carrying 16 steppers before me (after he tried to let me go first twice), I leaned in just a bit and said "thank you, but seriously, I'm carrying FOUR"... and I made him laugh. And it was all I could do not to take a deep breath of MAN while we waited in line to be good people and clean up our messes. And he couldn't help himself and had to take my FOUR steppers and put them up for me.
So after class I chitchat with the girls that I am now trying very hard to remember the names of, go to the locker room to get my crap (and avoid catching my fingers in the spring loaded doors of death), and realize that because of the instructor/personal trainers advice after last weeks class, I was able to move this week.
So I go back to the room to catch the trainer and thank him for making me remember that the human body wasn't meant to sit in a chair or in front of a keyboard all day. To let him know I've gotten quite a few compliments on my posture since he told me to lead with my chest instead of my forehead or shoulders. That I can feel blood flowing in my neck and shoulders again.
And guess what I found... a group of his groupies hangen out after class. So I slip into the conversation, university sweatshirt on; hair down and fabulous. Blonde Bombshell is directly across from me and I am that retarded girlie girl who laughs at all the jokes and laughs twice at his.
Hes cute and I like his smile and he has a football players ass and there is no harm in having a friendly personality.
Its not like I licked him or groped him or asked what he was doing later.
And he was RIGHT across the room from me all night so its not like I was killing myself to look at him.
And he was looking at me too. So THERE.
3) What do you do when you keep learning the ropes of your job within two weeks and find time to blog first thing in the morning because you are so caught up???
The boredom will set in. The monotony will have me agonizing over why I took ANOTHER front desk position. The frustration at having ideas as to how to streamline the office will meet a brick wall called Status Quo and I will harbor resentment to the two faced managers who tell me they love me but only as long as I shut it and sit pretty.
So the other day I am at my desk and this Cookie Lee sales person is talking to me while she waits for her prey to get out of a meeting. She tells me that the parties are so fun and that she enjoys my personality and that she would love to see me at the party she is setting up. Somehow it slips out that I know exactly the script she is using because I am with the company that MASTERED direct sales marketed toward women. She gets all wide eyed and I'm thinking "we can talk shop instead of her trying to sell me stuff that I wouldn't pick up at the dollar store if it were half price" - instead she blurts out "OH GOOD!! I love your products and got the card of a girl from a trade show a few weeks ago but I'd rather buy from you because you are so much more fun! Whats your number?"
The blood fell from my cheeks. My throat went dry. My neck started to sweat.
Then I thought "no one ever calls, its cool, and she has a card from the other girl and I'm giving her a postit. She'll lose it and I can keep my pipe dream in its pipe where it belongs."
No dice ya'll. (I can't get over that word!!! Got a replacement?)
She called me at work yesterday and set an appt for Sunday morning.
Its a little frightening when you hear that someone wants what you have and wants it from you because its you.
Its the point of the business I have gathering dust in my closet, but for some reason I've talked myself out of that option, and now I'm having a little revelation that if I just think about making money with her and getting hot leads, it will happen.
So, this weekend I get to do my taxes (stupid forwarding of the mail is NOT.WORKING. and I finally got my W2 - a copy of the employers copy - YESTERDAY) and dust off all my stuff for a pamper party for one.
All kinds of nerve wracking fun!!!!!
4) Maybe I don't have any room to talk... but why in the FRICK would T tell her stoney lametarded b/f to bug off because he finally went to far (ie bought her a cruise for Christmas, booked the date three months later without asking, she took the time off work, and two days before leaving asked what the weather would be like on the water and he said "I'm taking Charlie because I don't think you and I can spend four whole days together when your acting like this" and went on HER cruise without her), let him come over and hang candelabras, and THEN let his "surprise on Wednesday" be a trip to her fave restaurant, a gift of a spa day, a lovey card, and a bottle of vodka back at HIS place where she STAYED THE NIGHT?????
Lets put it this way - she was seeing another guy last week. A new, available, not controlling, not manipulative, mid western breed guy who totally digs her and let her 'crash' at his place when she drank too many margaritas on their 2nd date.
Thats right ya'll!! (AGAIN. I know. I need an intervention or something.) She slept over at a guys place on Sunday and spent the night with the ex on Wednesday.
And she calls her sister a whore for kissing a new guy at a club!!!!
My rant started with this idea - why oh why would you break up with someone if you will let them date you the next week????
OK - so He was redated, but a year later is different than a WEEK later, no?
And OK so I slept with other people between redating - but a WEEK??? When whore is her favorite word for a KISS???
5) What is rye and why do people like it?
I caved and got half a bagel this morning with the light cream cheese with salmon in it (because its almost noon and I have learned that the girls will cut a meeting short to take THEIR lunches on time but when it comes to saving me from passing out from low blood sugar because I don't want to TALK ON THE PHONE or MEET PEOPLE with food in my mouth, they conveniently say 'in a few minutes, k?' when 2pm rolls around and I realize why I'm snapping at my coworkers).
It wasn't a whole wheat bagel.
It is rye.
And not toasted.
Now I have that seedy stanky stuck in the back of my nasal cavity stench that only comes from these little hidden buggers and no sourkraut to even it out. I'm all for a random Reuben, but when you expect whole wheat and get rye, its a shock to the Good Morning, Here is Some Nutrition For You Body!! message I was trying to send.
Maybe a sweet coffee will help??
6) How Could I Forget??
For my coffee mongers...
I found a new version of my new fave this morning.
I didn't like that the French Vanilla from the cappucchino machine was too sweet and not caffeinated enough, so I started with a plain espresso shot and added the FV on top.
This offered a jolt that would snap me awake, but I would chug it so fast that I would reach for the empty cup just for a sip of warm creamy goodness. And go back for more. And be disappointed that I had to settle for the full sugary version so I wouldn't buzz off my chair.
Today though... I hit the Americano button before the FV button and I got a hot cup of coffee that was just enough sweet to cover the bitter, just enough froth to keep me from burning my tongue, and big enough to have a CUP of coffee this morning!!!!
Its the little things folks.
I sit at a desk and enter info into a database and answer calls and smile big when anyone comes to my desk.
To have a nice warm slightly sweet foamy creamy bit of comfort for me in the mornings makes it worth keeping the pink and blue cup on my desk day to day.
Otherwise its like that butterfly tattoo from HS that you got to match your best friends the month before you found out she'd been screwin your b/f for six months - a good thing that has so many bad memories that its not worth keeping.
Not that I have that.
Or that I had a b/f in HS for that matter.
But to see the cup sitting here knowing that it is a great cup but the memories are so disappointing...
This is why I don't have ink.
Except on a page.
7) I was recently asked to send a picture because an email buddy is dying to know what I look like. So I described myself in pretty accurate detail. Somehow it sounded like an ER report, but still.
This person did not think "I look like every other moderatly attractive middle class white chick you've ever met" was a reasonable summation.
I ask you, whats wrong with maintaining a bit of mystery if I want to??
I've got a few other email buddies that don't even know my real name I pleaded.
What about all the fantastic imagination and Avatar building and Characature stuff we can do when I give you the details of my composition without the photo proof??
Still I was asked to create a digital image of myself and send it pronto.
Comply? Or maintain my stance that 1)I don't HAVE a photo to email, 2) I don't WANT to send one even if I did have one, and 3) I LIKE that you want to see me and that I have the Power to withhold???
8) I need more hobbies. The gym and Tivo and blog reading and watching the dogs twitch in their sleep are great, but I think I'm ready for something more. Now.
If you lived 1/2hr from the beach. 1/2hr from the hills, and 45min from the great metropolis of LA... what would you do on a Saturday?
Its now 2:38pm and I am gonna take my bleery eyed self to the back and demand someone come cover my desk so I can drive up the street to the park, pull the blanket out of my trunk, lay barefoot in the sunshine, and ask Tempura why he keeps telling me he'd love to let me know how much better my ass looks after all this gym stuff but refuses to book a ticket for me to fly out and see him. (I know, he should come see me, but I don't want to give HIM a place to stay, drive HIM around, and take HIM to the airport three hours early so he can have a stiff drink to round out a weekend of fondling and spoiling me.)