Sexual Harassment 101

Conversation with co-worker after observing sign in employee break area that read:

S___ C____ is a hottie!

Me: So, rumor has it that you're a hottie.

SC: Yep.

Me: I hear you're hung like a Clydesdale, too.

SC: More like a horse.

Sometimes, being a well-hung hottie is good enough.

We all live in a capital I

In the middle of the desert

In the center of the sky

And all day long we polish on the I

To keep it clean and shiny

So it brightens up the sky

Rubbing it here

And scrubbing it there

Polishing the I

So high in the air

As we work we sing a lively tune

"It is great to be so happy on a busy afternoon."

And when we're through with the day's only chore

We go into the I

And we close the door

Capital I, capital I, capital I, capital I

There are things wrong with me

My priorities are clearly skewed.

First of all, I'm supposed to hang out with a boy this evening, and my gray hairs were sticking out (roots needed a touch up). I actually woke up early to dye my hair before work, so that when the gentleman caller meets me after school, I don't look like an old hag next to the 26 year old hottie.

Second, I come strolling in around 9:20 and the boss's boss, who is visiting today, said, "Oh, so you just come strolling in anytime you feel like it." I look over my shoulder at him and said, "Yeah, pretty much." I could have made up some excuse about traffic and SIG alerts or an early dental appointment, but I couldn't be bothered. I didn't even think about how bad that made the boss look in the eyes of his superior (can't control his secretary, how can he handle all this responsibility), or how bad I looked.

Third, my head is kind of woozy today. I'm thinking sinus pressure or fumes from Nice'n'Easy. Thus, instead of doing actual work for which I'm being paid, I read blogs, which led to links, which led to more fun stuff, which led to "Holy Crap! It's 2:14!!" Come to think if it, I was fine until I ate some rainbow-colored Goldfish crackers (One Fish. Two Fish. Red Fish. Gay Fish.) Maybe they were laced with something. I'll have to check it out.

Fourth, the store manager and I have spent the entire day so far trying to top each other in clever alternatives for butthole. He started it this morning with "mud whistle." It was all downhill from there. I won.

Fifth, even though I realize I've wasted most of the day doing nothing, I'm not really in a hurry to rectify the situation by rushing through the work I've yet to do.

Sixth, even though my head is woozy and probably doesn't need any more aggravation, I fully intend to tie one on tonight with the cute boy and possibly call in sick tomorrow (because tomorrow will surely be "commando day" otherwise).

I could go on and on but, really, I should get something done.

Did I mention it's Administrative Professionals' Day and I got SQUAT from the boss? I'm not bitter or anything, even though this is the second year in the row he has chosen to ignore this Hallmark Holiday, and even though I remember boss's day and his birthday and his wife's birthday and his daughter's birthday and his son's birthday.... Nope, not bitter.

Gratuitous Baby Photos

One night, a few months ago, I lay awake and became suddenly aware that my legs were crossed at the ankles, right over left. I thought this was an odd way to fall asleep, so I uncrossed them. It wasn't comfortable. I tried crossing them the other way (left over right). It wasn't comfortable. Soon, and without any conscious effort, they were back to the ol' right over left cross. I didn't give it another thought, other than a passing, "how strange that I keep doing it that way."

Then, while sorting through old photos looking for a specific picture, I stumbled across this one.

I'll wait while you ooo and ahh over my phenominal cuteness. There it is. Photographic evidence that the whole leg crossing thing is deeply ingrained in my psyche and 40 years later, I am powerless to change it. Also note, this is the last time I looked good in a belly shirt.

And, because it's adorable also, I give you this photo three years later. That's me on the swing, proving that I have never liked to wear socks with my sneakers. That's Katie next to me. She'll probably kill me for this. (Love you to pieces, my darling sister)

Um, apparently the gardener was off that week. (Seriously, Dad. Where was the lawnmower?)

special thanks to Andy Pesantes for scanning these, as my scanner is on strike.

Why can't I call in sick like normal people?

Why do I have such a loyal damned work ethic that I feel guilty for calling in sick unless I cannot walk, or go five minutes without puking? I woke up this morning with a migraine. Full on "ohmyGodthesuniskillingme.Whoinventedthatgodforesakensphereoflightanyway?ExcusemewhileIvomit" Migraine. I took three Excedrin Migraine pills and lay in the living room where the sun doesn't shine (insert sophomoric giggles) for an hour. Still the pain, the pain. But, being the good employee, I stumbled into the shower, got dressed, and came to work (although I nearly ran over an old lady in the process). The hurt must stop. Make it go away!!

In my pain, I cannot concentrate on work, and I have to keep up with all my blogging friends, so I've been online all morning. Now, Natalie Dee is always funny, but this one just made me laugh hard in spite of the splitting headache. Then I clutched my skull, said "owwww," and laughed some more. I don't know why.

And I wasn't feeling well yesterday, also a little bit lazy, so I didn't do laundry. I see a skirt in my future...and possibly commando, but not at the same time. I think I need to call in sick to do laundry.

Good vs. Evil--Or, why I don't clean.

I'm not a good housekeeper. Let's just get that straight from the start. I don't have piles of food around the house or dishes sitting for weeks or anything really gross like that, but I definitely am a victim of CHAOS (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome). So, before having Tina over for the Maxiglide testing, I had to clean. Well, apparently, my cleaning stirred up some unwanted guests...

It was 6:00 a.m. on Easter Sunday morning. I went to the bathroom, but didn't turn on the light. As I was getting ready to leave, I noticed a dark spot on the wall between the vanity and the shower wall. The last time I saw a dark spot on the wall (in the exact same location) was seven years ago, a few days after I had moved in here. I screamed, "Oh Hell NO! You bastards...you mut..." and turned on the light just in time to see a "waterbug" (c'mon--it's a cockroach) scurry behind the vanity. I ran to the kitchen, but the can of Black Flag Ant & Roach spray was empty. Argh! Wait! I still have that bottle of Boric Acid! Wasting no time at all, I ran back to the bathroom. Peering closely at the hole between the vanity and the wall, I noticed a piece of leg and a waving antenna...he's still there. (or so I thought)

Laughing maniacally, I dumped a large amount of boric acid into that corner. Then, using a plastic spoon, I shoveled copious amounts of the foul powder into the hole. "Die, you villainous insect. Die!!!" I cried. Feeling rather satisfied that anything hiding in that hole was now coated in a caustic substance, I crawled back into bed.

Over the next few days, I entered the bathroom slowly, scoping out the floor and walls to see if any of his brethren had come to avenge his death. Sunday? All clear. Monday? All clear. Tuesday? All cle..perhaps I spoke to soon...

As per my usual routine, I fell asleep on the sofa during the news and woke up at 3:00 a.m. I remembered that I hadn't watched Gilmore Girls, which I taped earlier, so I watched that before bed. When it was winding to a close (about five minutes left) I started getting ready for bed. I went to the bathroom to wash off my makeup, then walked into my bedroom to turn down the bed and set the alarm. I turned to leave my room, and--EEEEKKK!!--there was my arch-nemesis, in the doorway, standing between me and freedom. He must have hitched a ride on my pajamas, because he was not there before. Well, You may have outsmarted me, and you may be the only thing left alive after a nuclear holocaust, but you are no match for a size 10 navy blue Chuck Taylor Converse All-Star.

CSI investigations (see chalk outline) showed no evidence of boric acid on the body, so the little bastard was NOT in the hole at the time of my boric acid dousing...or, he and his kind have built up a resistance to the stuff.

I have visions of happy little cockroach children having "snowball" fights with the boric acid.

Late Night TV Sans Cable

I have mentioned my bad sleeping habits before. A typical night goes like this...come home, watch TV, fall asleep during the 11:00 news, wake up at 2:30ish in the middle of the Leno/Conan repeats or the late night Oprah, depending on which channel was on when I fell asleep. Occasionally, I wake up with an off channel and some evangelical program. My favorite was Jack and Rexella Van Impe and their debunking of The Da Vinci Code. "It's a pack of lies," cautions Rexella in her sweet, sugary voice, while hubby Jack urges viewers to "throw this book in the trash, because that's what it is--TRASH." Um, Jack? Rexy? It's a freakin' book!! It's FICTION!!! Their "The End Is Near" program is a must-see. It's comforting to know that when the Rapture comes, our pets will be joining us (who am I kidding; I'll be left behind) in Heaven.

Last night, I saw a commercial for The Living Faith, an organization which touts faith healing. The commercial last night asked viewers to join them in Eagle Rock and receive a blessed hankerchief. IT'S A NAPKIN!!! Seriously, they showed ushers walking through an auditorium filled with the faithful handing them red napkins from a basket. NAPKINS!! "Cancer Schmancer! This red hanky is good for what ails me."

I usually get sucked into this type of programming until the Early, Early, My God, What Am I Doing Up At This Hour News comes on, then I go to bed and wake up late for work.

Tomorrow, pending accompanying artwork from a guest artist, I'll tell you about the TRUE battle of good and evil.

It's a beautiful day...leave me alone.

The day I fought long and hard (well, not that hard) to delay has come at last. The boss is adding another 1000-CD monster rack to my office decor. It's not enough that he has six racks in HIS office, holding approximately 3,700 CDS, plus one 1000-CD monster rack already encroaching into my territory. That's nearly 5,000 CDs, folks. Many of which are repeats (they reissued, remastered, and added extra tracks, so he kept both versions), and many of which are NOT EVEN OPENED!!! For months now, he's been saying in his annoying-but-he-thinks-it's-cute voice "Well, looks like I'm gonna have to move another rack in here". To which I replied, while shooting him the go-to-hell look, "Looks like you're gonna have to thin the herd and get rid of all the repeats and CDs you're never going to listen to, like Stereophonics or The Transplants."

I've lost the battle. The rack is being built as I type. I will not, however, lose the battle of where in my office it will reside. I am putting my foot down. (thud)


I saw the saddest thing. There's a clown outside Aah's hawking the new XBox. The clown part isn't sad. The fact that the clown is about 70+ years old and has a leathery "I've been working the fields my whole life without the benefit of sunscreen" skin is very sad. He's probably the owner's father. I didn't have the heart to take his picture, but here's my best artist's rendering (hardly equal to Miss Kendra's talent, but I try).

More Product Testing--I do this to save you time and money.

Have you seen the Maxiglide infomercial? It's an amazing commercial. The Maxiglide is a hair straightening iron like no other. It features these tiny pins that comb through your hair as it straightens, and has a steam feature that adds moisture and shine to your hair. There's also this magic serum that you pre-treat your hair with to keep it from frizzing up, no matter what the weather. They show a gal with a big ol' mass of kinky hair and with one swoop--Ta Da--her hair is silky smooth. Needless to say, I was sucked in immediately and told my friend Tina about it. Tina is getting married in June (Yippee for Tina) and wants to wear her hair straight without paying salon prices. Maxiglide to the rescue!!

Here is Tina in her naturally beautiful state(right). Isn't she pretty? In order to test the Maxiglide properly, she had to wash her hair and treat it with a combination of magic conditioner and magic serum, then blow it dry.


Here is Tina after blowing it dry. YIKES!!! Er, I mean, isn't she pretty?

Starting with the underneath hairs and pinning the rest on top, I began. It worked pretty much as it showed in the commercial, except the pins did not comb through the ends of Tina's hair without some coaxing, and by coaxing I mean ripping. It was difficult getting close to the scalp because I didn't want to burn her. I finally managed to get those little baby hairs that most of us have at the nape of our necks, but it was tricky and I did burn Tina at one point, losing her trust forever.
So, on and on I go...section by section...piece by piece. I eventually mastered the skill of getting close enough to the scalp so as not to leave Tina with poofy head, but it took several passes with the iron to get it truly straight and sleek, not one, as seen on TV.

Two hours later--Yes, that's right, TWO hours later--Tina looked like this. Yep, still pretty, and practically demure (so not Tina).
So, the conclusion to our testing? Yes, the Maxiglide works, although not nearly as spectacularly as in the commercial. And it took two full hours for me to do it, I can't imagine how much longer it would take to do it yourself. First of all, it would be incredibly awkward because of the recommended two-hand operation. Second, your arms would be seriously fatigued by the midway point. Also, while perfectly straight, it wasn't nearly as silky and Beyonce-ish as the gals in the commercial. Plus, when we tried to use a curling iron on the ends, the curl just would not hold. Methinks the magic serum left it too conditioned to curl.

All in all, it would be faster and easier to go to the salon and pay, not to mention the results would be better. Tina will be getting a refund thanks to the generous 30-day money back guarantee.

And this has nothing to do with the Maxiglide, but if you're in the market for a new vacuum as I was, may I recommend the Eureka Altima? It sucked up the 30 pounds of hair and dust on my fire engine red carpet, leaving it bright and clean, and presentable to company. Plus, the filter is totally (and easily) washable, the dirt cup didn't need to be emptied very often, and it comes with a telescopic duster that you can clean with the push of a button. So cool. Only $80 at Target.

Rants, Ramblings, Pet Peeves and General Malaise

I'm in pain. Lots and lots of pain. It's either a knitting injury, or I pulled a muscle trying to straighten my hair the other day. Whatever the cause, the pain is bad. I can't lift my arm, extend my elbow, or grip a pen without a twinge. Fortunately, I have a pretty high pain threshold, but it's annoying to reach for a paper on my desk and...ow, ow, ow, ow! It doesn't help that I have a 9 million page report to type (I may exaggerate). Please don't let this be carpel tunnel. There goes my violin career.
Yesterday, I popped some Motrin, but found no relief. Today, I thought I'd try Aleve because it's supposed to be good for old folks like me and our arthritis pain, and because Sachi recommended it to someone else yesterday and she seems in the know. I still have the pain, and now I feel a little pukey. Of course, that could be the empanada I had for breakfast. I'm going to pop some more pills after lunch. I hate to get too dopey, though, what with my mad driving skills and all. I think I need something stronger--like Dilaudid.

Of course, it's raining too.

I'm a little late to be jumping on the band wagon, but I said I'd further the boycott and I will. Which boycott? The Tom Cruise Boycott. NO Mission Impossible for me (although don't hate me for keeping the first one in my collection. Jean Reno is in that one and I loves me some Reno). I'm supporting Katie's right to scream the way nature intended her to during childbirth, her right to an epidural if she so chooses, a right to hold her child afterward, and to breast feed if she feels inclined. Yo L.Ron--No Uterus, No Opinion. [his "barley formula" included honey...for a newborn??] He also advocated that the mother not speak in the presence of her child for at least a week. The dude had issues. Follow whatever path to spiritual enlightenment that you choose, but leave the birthing to the women. We know what we're doing...been doing it without an input from men for years. (other than the input that got her pregnant in the first place)
Of course, let's not leave Katie Holmes out of this crazyfest. She's free and over 21, and made her decision with presumably open eyes. Idiot.
Say, does anyone else remember Kelly Preston saying, when her engagement to John Travolta was announced, that she'd had a crush on him since Saturday Night Fever and always knew she'd marry him. Well, Katie said the same thing about Tom Cruise and having a crush on him since Top Gun. Hmm...Scientology Dating Game?

My boss has some serious TMJ. He's eating M&Ms that my sister sent (Thanks Kate) and I can hear his jaw clicking from across the room. Ouch.

Speaking of the boss, this is my pet peeve of the day. He uses the glass plate of the copier as a writing surface (even though he has a perfectly servicable desk) and then DOESN'T CLOSE THE LID. Ohhhhh, that just ticks me off. Not as much as when he leaves my office door wide open so that everyone can watch me (I don't like to be watched), but close.

I still feel pukey and I still have 4 million pages to type. I'd better get on that.

A series of unfortunate events...or why you should listen to the warning on the label.

I was hopped up on the goofballs yesterday (Zyrtec D) and was kind of coming down off my antihistamine high round about the time I had to head out to school. Now, I was feeling a little dopey, a little sleepy, and generally not all there, so I had a king-sized chocolate bar to perk me up. The label on the drug vial reads "May Cause Drowsiness. Use care when operating a car or dangerous machinery". Yeah, um...I maybe didn't read that yesterday.

So, I got to school and for reasons I care not to go into here, I had to leave right away. I dropped off some stuff for Gloria & Heather, and headed back to the car. When I went to swing my tote bag with all my school books and supplies onto the passenger seat, it sloshed. Slosh? That's not a sound books are supposed to make. Apparently, the entire contents of a giant 2 liter water bottle spilled into my tote bag and my books and pens and snacks were soaked! CRAP!!! I dumped the water in the parking lot, spread the books and papers out in my truck to kind of air out and headed home.

The freeway at 6:00PM is not pretty, so I took the surface streets. Did you know you can't make a left from Alvarado onto Sunset between 7AM and 7PM? Neither did I. I had to go two blocks out of my way, then around a block, then back to Alvarado to make a right onto Sunset. Things were going fine until I got to the corner where Sunset and Hollywood blvds intersect. (see illustration).

I needed to be in the farthest left turn lane, and the end of the bus (the orange blob) was right at the end of the entrance to that lane, so I was kind of doing some illegal driving by pulling around the bus, but not too illegal, this being LA and all. I pulled around the bus, misjudged the space available when I went to straighten my car out, and ended up sideswiping the back end of the bus. I don't think the bus driver felt anything, or if he did he didn't register it because I looked up at him as I was pulling alongside his driver's side window and he didn't seem aware. So, I kept going. Okay, technically, it was a hit and run, but the damage was all to my car, so I'm the one who suffers for it. It's not too bad, though. At least it wasn't a brand new car.
Note the abrasions on the wheel well, near the door. The trim on the door is scraped too.

On The Hamster Wheel of Life

I'm so sick and tired of finally getting caught up with work only to have some corporate douche who's trying to justify his paycheck drop some unrealistic and, frankly, useless project on the AAs (because everyone knows all I do all day is eat Bon Bons and file my nails--oh, and blog). I have two major projects that are due next Monday. Both of these projects require input from others, so I'll be playing Mother Duck trying to round up all the answers I need. And it's not like I can let my own work go while I do this. So, now I'm thoroughly pissed off.

And it's not just work, it's my life too. Pay down a credit card, get desperate and charge it up again, etc, etc. Accomplish something, start back at the bottom of the next level and so on and so on...

Come to think of it, it's not so much a hamster wheel as it is one of those big roundabouts in cities. You know, like European Vacation "Look kids, Big Ben...Parliament". I just keep driving around and around looking for an opening in the right lane until--whoosh--I get to merge right, only to drive around and around in that lane looking for another opening, and another, in my ultimate goal to get to an avenue that will lead me somewhere exciting. Only, traffic is really bad lately and there doesn't seem to be an opening in sight.

Heavy sigh.

I couldn't possibly take another bite...

I had the most disturbing dreams about being buried alive in the same coffin as a recently dead person, and eating that person. And I wasn't alone. It was a common occurrence. Then, when I tried to go back to sleep I kept seeing that mask from "Saw", and I've never even seen that movie. Eww. I was all kinds of creeped out and wide awake at 4:30 because of this.

Anyone want to analyze my obviously messed up head?

Dang! I went on Ebay to leave feedback and got sucked in.

"...and she was never heard from again."

Someone's Been Sleeping In My Bed

I came home from SnB last night around 10:45, got out of the car, glanced at my house* and froze right there on the sidewalk. My bedroom light was on!!! Now, I live alone, and the only other person who has my apartment key is in Pennsylvania right now. I most certainly did not leave the light on from that morning because I never turn my bedroom light on in the morning. My bedroom windows are large and eastward facing filling the room with sunlight, making artificial light unnecessary. See how bright my room is in the morning (photo at right)!
Also, my front porch light was off. Having just replaced the front porch light that morning, I know that I turned it on before I left. Curiouser and curiouser.

I paced back and forth in front of the house debating whether or not to enter the premises alone or to go across the street and ask a kindly police officer to accompany me. The certain humilation of dragging a cop into my probably empty apartment decided for me, but I was not going in unarmed. I grabbed a stick that I found in the yard. Yes, a stick. Desperate times, ya know. I unlocked the door and found a better weapon(see photo) at the bottom of the stairs*, so the stick was history. Cautiously, I crept up the stairs, weapon at the ready, eyes darting to every corner searching for movement. Nothing. Phew! However, the light was still on and a decorative throw pillow was in a different place on my bed. Someone had been in my bedroom, and since Frau Fix-it-herself claims to have lost my key, I can only assume it was the gnomes.



* My apartment is the upstairs of a duplex house. My front door opens onto a staircase.
and yes, that's a file. My front door lock was off, so I filed out the plate on the door jamb and left it at the bottom of the stairs--two years ago. I'm a lousy housekeeper.

Achtung Jackass

I so wanted to take today off. I've earned a good day off, damn it. But no, the boss wields his control from 277 miles away (according to Google maps). A conference call, a last minute project, his boss in town...dang, I can't get a break. I definitely feel a cough coming on for tomorrow, though...at least for half the day.

So, what makes people think they can get out of putting money in a parking meter simply by covering it with a plastic bag? I have witnessed this brazen move three times this week and I'm astounded by the audacity of such an individual. All three occurences have been in broad daylight, on a busy street, with many a witness, and the bags used your common variety shopping sort. Don't they know that if the meter were actually broken the parking enforcement team uses cloth sacks tied over the meter? Or, in some instances, paper bags with City of LA seal? Do they honestly think the Rita (meter maid) is going to see their Walmart bag and think "Oh, I guess that one's not working". Hells, no, she won't. Today's jerk was a multiple violator: three feet from the curb, more than six inches into the red zone, and the sneaky bag trick. Where were the parking enforcers today? Not in WeHo, that's for sure. The bag even blew off and still no meter maid. Of course, had I tried a stunt like that, I'd be staring at a $40 ticket right now.

Not to be defeated by a 3 1/2 inch piece of technology, I revisited the cute cordless mouse and guess what? It works this time! It's a little persnickety, but I'll work the kinks out. I am too stubborn to admit that this was a rash purchase. It WILL work! (although, truth be told, the smallness that made it so darn cute is kind of awkward to work with and making my hand hurt a little)

It's Thursday. I need a nap if I'm going to knit and visit my friendly, neighborhood projectionist.

Again with the rain and the puddles and the blahs

My friend Russell left his keys in his front door (or so he thought--they weren't there) so I ran him back home in the pouring rain. Wilcox was so flooded that all the cars in both directions were hugging the yellow line. It was pretty hairy. The driving to work, back to my neighborhood, and back to work has left me less than enthusiatic about actual work. Not that I'm particularly enthusiastic on a regular basis, but today...not gonna happen.

There are queens in the Classical store (right outside my office door) being particularly queeny, the boss is particularly bossy, there are too many people in this world named Bill, and I'm hungry. (Oh My God--get a cup of coffee and take your queen chat elsewhere, for crying out loud) I must take my lunch now, and possibly work on this unrealistic project which the boss has dropped on my desk. Dang!

Today's blog entry is brought to you by the Word "particularly", by the number 0 (as in the amount of work done) and by the letters P and U (Stinky McGappyshorts was just here).

GO BLUE!

In honor of Dodgers Opening Day, this post will be blue, but not sad. The boss is off enjoying his hot dogs and beer, while I'm left here to slave away...oh, who am I kidding. Like I want to sit on rainsoaked seats in the chilly air when I could be here, boss free. Go Dodgers!

Say, why do they call it the Stealth bomber if it makes soooo much noise?

I go back to school today after a week off--a week in which I was going to clean my apartment, rearrange the bottom cupboards, get those CDs organized and give the excess to Daren for distribution elsewhere, rearrange my bedroom so that the head of my bed is not sharing the same wall as my neighbor, empty out both closets and repack them, while simultaneously purging all the useless crap I've stored over the last 11 years, catch up on my homework from last quarter, and finish Kelli's and Audra's Christmas presents. I failed miserably. Nothing got done. Well, things got done, but nothing from this list. Although, Kelli's scarf is now 3/4 done, and should be done by next winter.

I took the shut in to the nail salon Sunday, and knitted while she got a fill and pedicure. I noticed a girl sitting behind Tami with a blue face. Blue! It was a mask of some sort, like the Biore self-heating cleansing mask, not a Halloween mask. She was getting a fill, so I assumed she was getting the whole spa treatment, facial, wax, mani/pedi, etc. That is until an hour later when she was in a pedicure chair and still blue. I'm not dermatologist, but I'm thinking a mask left on too long is not going to be very beneficial. As we were leaving, she was at the drying table still wearing the blue face. Did they forget about her? Did she leave the house that way? Did she get a bad chemical peel and this is some medicated lotion she has to wear? Citizens for a Non-bluefaced Community want to know.

My head hurts but there is much to be done. Damn the sinuses and full speed ahead.