I may not really like WHAT I do at my job, but I love the people.
I've been really sick the past three days with a stomach flu. Before it hit, people signed up to bring food in for the luncheon we are having next week and me and a couple of co-workers are going in on a pepperoni and cheese platter. This e-mail ensued.
From: Jamiece
To: Kelly, Mike, Jason, Sara
Sara has graciously offered to put the pepperoni and cheese platter together. We are suggesting a $5 contribution per person. Please give your money to Sara. She plans on shopping tonight.
From: Kelly
To: Jamiece, Mike, Jason, Sara
Sara are you sure. I have no problem giving more money so they can cut it themselves???
From: Mike
To: Jamiece, Kelly, Jason, Sara
Kelly,
Sara isn’t feeling well, just let her cut the cheese.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
priceless.
Number of people who commented to themselves or their group as I walked by: 32
Number of people who commented to my face: 5
Number of people who took my picture: 1
Having people in the streets of New York City (where I’ve seen everything) pay attention to and comment on something I was wearing: Priceless
Number of people who commented to my face: 5
Number of people who took my picture: 1
Having people in the streets of New York City (where I’ve seen everything) pay attention to and comment on something I was wearing: Priceless
Monday, December 15, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
the most wonderful time of the year.
Christmas activities get worse over time. I’ve learned this.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy the time I spend with my family; I do. It’s just that everything is now infused with a sense of sadness and lost childhood. Ever since both of my grandmothers passed (within three months of one another not two years ago) there’s a damper on holidays.
I also spend a lot of time reflecting. I think about how lucky I am, how I don’t know how many more times I’m going to get to do this. I remember sitting on my couch last year at Christmas time, staring at the tree in the foyer and crying because I thought I wouldn’t be around next year for it. (That didn’t work out. Yet.)
It’s scary. I’ve always known waking up to my parents and a tree with presents underneath it. It will be very odd to not have that.
My parents and I did a tradition last night that I would fly home from Japan for, if it came to that. We decorated the tree.
Every year my mom puts our fake, color-coded-branch tree up and proceeds to decorate it with about 4584697 lights, both white and multi-color. This is a task that usually involves several bottles of beer, an occasional electrocution and an old Garth Brooks Christmas album.
Then we all gather to put the ornaments on the tree. Dad and I generally dawn stupid Christmas hats (I was an elf, he a reindeer) and mom just shakes her head at our nonsense as if to say, “How could these two idiots, who I’ve put up with for 25+ years, dare to touch my beautifully crafted light spectacle?”
We switch off between old, traditional ornaments and novelty ornaments. The novelty ones are never a problem, but the traditional ones are a bitch. They’re all ancient, glass and being man-handled above a wooden floor for a good hour. Shards of iridescence are quite common on tree-decorating night.
Every year, when we decorate the SAME. FAKE. tree that has taken up the corner of the foyer for the month of December for twelve years, my dad says the same thing:
“We are never going to fit all these ornaments on this tree.”
And mom responds the same.
“Shut the hell up, John.”
It’s not that I don’t enjoy the time I spend with my family; I do. It’s just that everything is now infused with a sense of sadness and lost childhood. Ever since both of my grandmothers passed (within three months of one another not two years ago) there’s a damper on holidays.
I also spend a lot of time reflecting. I think about how lucky I am, how I don’t know how many more times I’m going to get to do this. I remember sitting on my couch last year at Christmas time, staring at the tree in the foyer and crying because I thought I wouldn’t be around next year for it. (That didn’t work out. Yet.)
It’s scary. I’ve always known waking up to my parents and a tree with presents underneath it. It will be very odd to not have that.
My parents and I did a tradition last night that I would fly home from Japan for, if it came to that. We decorated the tree.
Every year my mom puts our fake, color-coded-branch tree up and proceeds to decorate it with about 4584697 lights, both white and multi-color. This is a task that usually involves several bottles of beer, an occasional electrocution and an old Garth Brooks Christmas album.
Then we all gather to put the ornaments on the tree. Dad and I generally dawn stupid Christmas hats (I was an elf, he a reindeer) and mom just shakes her head at our nonsense as if to say, “How could these two idiots, who I’ve put up with for 25+ years, dare to touch my beautifully crafted light spectacle?”
We switch off between old, traditional ornaments and novelty ornaments. The novelty ones are never a problem, but the traditional ones are a bitch. They’re all ancient, glass and being man-handled above a wooden floor for a good hour. Shards of iridescence are quite common on tree-decorating night.
Every year, when we decorate the SAME. FAKE. tree that has taken up the corner of the foyer for the month of December for twelve years, my dad says the same thing:
“We are never going to fit all these ornaments on this tree.”
And mom responds the same.
“Shut the hell up, John.”
comic book hotness.
Just realized that Ryan Reynolds is set to play Deadpool in the upcoming Wolverine movie.
Unsure of who Deadpool is, so I googled it.
Who is he? He's perfectly Ryan Reynolds, that's who.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deadpool_(comics)
Unsure of who Deadpool is, so I googled it.
Who is he? He's perfectly Ryan Reynolds, that's who.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deadpool_(comics)
open wide.
There is an awful drilling sound coming from the machine shop that sounds like someone getting their teeth drilled and/or cleaned.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
freudian slip?
So I was just looking at thefreedictionary.com (where I have a job interview, so I want to make sure I'm familiar with the site) and I thought to put a word in to the search box just to see how the whole thing operates.
Cantankerous.
Cantankerous.
mouth, meet foot.
Holidays are a time to gather with family. It’s a time that I always seem to reflect upon who I am and how I got that way, picking out traits from family members. Why I’m obnoxious, where my weird eating habits stem from, why my neck and face stain red when I have more than one beer.
This holiday weekend I recognized all this not because of Thanksgiving, but my cousin’s baby shower.
She’s on my dad’s side of the family. You know how you read about the stereotypically obnoxious families that embarrass you every chance they get and have really weird habits? They exist and they’re all related to me.
We don’t see each other as much since my grandmother passed away, so it’s nearly shell-shock when we do get together. I haven’t seen my five aunts in months. My hair color and cut have changed drastically (which they should expect by now – I’m like Madonna). This is what I get for it.
“HunEEEE you look BEAUTIFULLLLLLL!”
“I love your HAIRRRRR!”
“I thought it was a WIG when you walked in! I was going to come over and PULL on it!”
That last one coming from an aunt who touches EVERYONE’S hair, because she has none of her own. Her scalp is visible beneath a see-through dome of brownish hair strands. I can’t even call it hair. It looks like a Chia pet, just hollowed out.
I can also be blunt sometimes and awkward in my public speaking. I don’t generally think about what I’m going to say until it’s good and gone out of my mouth (into the awkward silence you go!) and my verbal damage has been inflicted. This rarely hurts anyone; it serves more as humorous relief or one more reason to slap MORON on my forehead.
Everyone was gathered that day from my cousin and her husband's side of the family. Grandmother, great-grandmothers, children of sister-in-laws and aunts. My pregnant cousin stood in the beginning of the shower to give "thank yous" to everyone and concluded with this:
“I just want to thank my husband Kyle for putting up with me. And – you know what no. This is his fault anyway.”
This holiday weekend I recognized all this not because of Thanksgiving, but my cousin’s baby shower.
She’s on my dad’s side of the family. You know how you read about the stereotypically obnoxious families that embarrass you every chance they get and have really weird habits? They exist and they’re all related to me.
We don’t see each other as much since my grandmother passed away, so it’s nearly shell-shock when we do get together. I haven’t seen my five aunts in months. My hair color and cut have changed drastically (which they should expect by now – I’m like Madonna). This is what I get for it.
“HunEEEE you look BEAUTIFULLLLLLL!”
“I love your HAIRRRRR!”
“I thought it was a WIG when you walked in! I was going to come over and PULL on it!”
That last one coming from an aunt who touches EVERYONE’S hair, because she has none of her own. Her scalp is visible beneath a see-through dome of brownish hair strands. I can’t even call it hair. It looks like a Chia pet, just hollowed out.
I can also be blunt sometimes and awkward in my public speaking. I don’t generally think about what I’m going to say until it’s good and gone out of my mouth (into the awkward silence you go!) and my verbal damage has been inflicted. This rarely hurts anyone; it serves more as humorous relief or one more reason to slap MORON on my forehead.
Everyone was gathered that day from my cousin and her husband's side of the family. Grandmother, great-grandmothers, children of sister-in-laws and aunts. My pregnant cousin stood in the beginning of the shower to give "thank yous" to everyone and concluded with this:
“I just want to thank my husband Kyle for putting up with me. And – you know what no. This is his fault anyway.”
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