Fat Pants

My bags are packed (more than 20 minutes before I'm scheduled to leave, can you believe it?), I've finally purchased some presents, I've acquired three bottles of wine, I've secured a case of Winter Lager and I've found my fat pants. Yep, I'm ready. Bring on the festivities.

Let me share with you a few wonderful holiday thoughts from the world of Who in the Hell is Eddie.

"There better be some of that beer left for Christmas morning!"
"Feliz Naviblah. ... In American that means Christmas in Mexican."

Even though you won't get the pleasure of sharing it with Elvis like myself, I hope you all have fabulous festivities and may all your holiday wishes come true! :-)

Who Does That -- Part VIII

December 19th and all through the house not a present was bought. Nothing. Nada. Nil. All the creatures of the house were stirring; stirring with a "holy shit, I only have four days to do this!" fear. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, but not even a lump of coal for St. Nick to find when he was there. There were no children snug in their beds (mostly because I have none), no visions of sugar plums dancing in my head and certainly no settling down for a long winter's nap. For I have not purchased one damn present. Did you hear me? It's December 19th and I have not purchased one damn present!

Who Does That?

All the Ladies in the Place

Picture it; Springfield, Saturday night, Buffalo Wild Wings, friends are hanging out, watching basketball, playing video poker, the beer is flowing, the shots are making their rounds, the mood is light, the laugh factor is high, times are good.

Suddenly the conversation amongst the three women turns to sex. It is discovered that one of these women does not currently own, nor has she ever owned, a much needed piece of property in every single gal’s life; the vibrator. Much to the dismay of the other two women she goes on to explain that while she enjoys sex, she has always been too embarrassed and shy to make the purchase. Well, this revelation does not sit well with the non shy women. They know of the vibrator and its wonderment. They insist this simply must not go on and demand to take their friend shopping the next morning for her very first little friend.

The next morning comes and shy woman is overly excited. She texts messages her friend at 10:00 and says “Are you up and ready yet? I am”. Now her friend wants to make sure she discovers the pleasure, but she also loves her hangover sleep. Nevertheless, she rolls out of bed and meets her friend to eat some lunch then hit the vibrator store.

Good thing she agreed to go along, too. Not only was the vibrator virgin scared and embarrassed, but she was also bad with decisions. She was picking up stuff that was too small, not waterproof, had scary animals on it, too hard, etc. However, after a good forty-five minutes she finally made a decent purchase; a nice, tame, starter, not too much, waterproof number. The store even included batteries. How nice of them.

Now, I cannot name names but after all that fretting I hear that she now demands more power. Sounds like she should have been introduced a long time ago.

Moral of the story: Never deny yourself the pleasure of the vibrator.

Purgatory

*Gets up from desk, walks to office white board, uncaps red Dry Erase marker, groans at co-worker making deliberately loud noises while laughing, writes on board.*

I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.
I will no longer participate in free drinks Ladies' Night.

*Replaces cap on marker, returns to desk, groans at co-worker again, pops two more Extra Strength Tylenol, lays head on desk while co-worker points and laughs, gives co-worker the finger.*

High, err I Mean ... Good Times

I'm only as strong as the cocktails I drink, the hairspray I use, and the girlfriends I have.

Tonight begins the three day bon voyage extravaganza for a very dear friend. We've been through everything together. We've survived junior high, high school, broken engagements, hosting parties, close friends being sent off to the military, Bob Ross type activities, snakes getting loose from their cages during Bob Ross type activities and me freaking the hell out about it, cheating boyfriends, being forced to do shots of cheap tequila from measuring cups because we didn't have shot glasses, college, the tragic death of a dear sweet friend, falling off coolers while attempting to dance on them, the horrors of a first skinny dipping experience and even an unplanned pregnancy that turned out to be the greatest thing ever to happen to my friend.

She is moving away to be with her future husband. I'm so happy for her, but I will miss her deeply. We'll still talk and see each other quite often, as she must bring her daughter down to see her daddy, but it won't be the same.

So, here's to you Ms. Best Times of Dana's Lifer. See you tonight at ladies night. ;)

Three Words

"If you love someone you say it, you say it right then, out loud. Otherwise the moment just...passes you by." ~ Dermot Mulroney as Michael O'Neal in My Best Friend's Wedding

Why is it that saying those three little, but all important, words is such a scary prospect? I'm told it's the fear of not hearing them in return. No, I'm not told that; I know that to be true. But, for some reason, that's exactly what I did to someone who means the world to me last night. I feel awful. Not because I don't have the same feelings, but because I do have the same feelings and just freaked out. I was completely taken aback that someone so wonderful would desire to say that to me. I smiled, I told him how unbelievably happy he makes me everyday, I told him how I can't get through the day without hearing his voice, I even cried a few tears of happiness and I smiled some more. But I never said it back!

What is wrong with you, Hera? He's not the past. He's not the two men who hurt you beyond belief. He's not the reason you have built a giant brick wall around your heart; he's the person who has brought that wall crashing down. He's the reason you can't stop smiling every minute of every day. He's the person who makes you feel like you're all that matters; you're his world. He's the person who lets you talk about random nothingness, and finds humor in it. He's the person who leaves you short, and completely sweet, messages just to let you know he's thinking about you. He's the person who puts your happiness before his own. He's the person who gives you reason to get out of bed every morning. What is wrong with you, Dana? You love him too, so why didn't you say it back?

To the light of my days....

You mean everything to me. You bring me more happiness than I ever thought possible. Everyday I find myself asking if I dreamed you up, but much to my delight, you are indeed real. My days don't start until you say good morning and they can't end until you say goodnight. I love you, too. And I can't wait until I can say that in person.

Hello?

Oh my avid readers (I think you exist), I apologize for the weeklong absence of blog entries. It has been a crazy week; everything from insane amounts of work to the flu to the sudden and unexpected passing of a dear friend of the family.

I heard from the potential job and the news was not what I had hoped. For those of you not in the know, it was not so much of a job but more of an internship with a AAA baseball team. In the end, I am actually somewhat flattered by the "too much experience, it's a bit beneath you" reason. I half expected that, but you never know until you try right? What's meant to be will be and I am now shifting my thoughts to other possibilities. The only thing I know for sure is that I am unhappy with the opportunities here and am in dire need of a change in scenery. Where? I'm not sure. I'm not even sure it matters. There's this awesome wall map in the room next to my office; I'm beginning to like the idea of just tossing a dart at the map and moving wherever it lands.

Thank you all again for your well wishes and I'm sure I'll be asking you again when the next interview comes along. And I promise the next blog entry will not be over a week away.

Important Stuff

I don't get serious around here very often (if ever), but today is one of those times I feel it is necessary. So please bear with me.

Today, December 1, is World AIDS Day.

Sadly, my family and I know the misery of HIV/AIDS all too well. One of my favorite uncles was afflicted with the disease. He made it almost 17 years after his diagnosis. It was beyond great to have him around for that much longer, but at the same time it was very painful. The last six years of his life were in the AIDS stage, and they were spent not living, but surviving. It was hands down the worst thing I have ever witnessed. I hope that none of you ever have to watch someone you love and care for slowly wilt away, knowing there is absolutely nothing you, or anyone else, can do.

One of the most disheartening things I have noticed is the complacency our society seems to have developed to such a horrific epidemic. With that, I challenge you (almost beg of you) to educate yourself. If you are educated, then pass the information and challenge along to someone who might not be educated. If you're so inclined, please donate some time or money to an organization or two. Wear a red ribbon, get tested, simply talk about it, do something, do anything; it might make more difference than you could ever imagine.

Who Does That -- Part VII

Note: Sorry for going a little old school on you this time, but I recounted this story over the weekend and decided it would make a perfect Who Does That entry.

A few years ago, a very intriguing man asked if he could take me out on a date. Now I usually have a severe aversion to the pretty boy, but he made me laugh every time we hung out so I thought why not. I said to myself "Dana, why not give this arm candy thing a try? You know he makes you laugh and at the very least it's just dinner and a movie. Put aside his abnormal need to have every hair perfectly gelled and go. Besides a girl's got to eat and what better way than being treated to dinner by someone so easy on the eyes". Gawd was I ever wrong.

The night of the big date rolled around and, like any good woman, I spent at least an hour getting all dolled up. I put on my best sexy jeans, tight little sweater cut just low enough to be sexy but still leaving a little to the imagination (my momma taught me well) and some damn fine heels. Despite the expected first date jitters, at least I was looking good. This is every woman's first date duty, right? Just as it's the man's first date duty to have some chivalry, right?

7:30 rolls around; it's go time. Surprisingly I'm ready to go. (Shock, I know). Now one detail you should know is that this happened to be over Christmas break when I was home from college. That meant I was staying at my parents house. He knew I was staying at my parent’s house. He knew my parents were there. Yet, for some reason, when he got there he just honked! Oh no, I'm not lying. Not only did he not bother to open the door for me, but he never even got out of the truck. He fucking honked!

Here's what worse, despite my dad yelling "Who does that little fucker think he is pulling up here to take my daughter out and just honking?", I actually walked out the door and went on this date. A big Who Does That to me, huh? I was still in my very early 20s, not so much of an independent woman days though. If some man tried that today I would still walk out that door, but just long enough to walk past his truck, stop and remind him what he could have had if only he’d have had a little couth about him. Then I would continue on to a night on the town with my girls. But I digress.

After I got in the truck, that so rudely honked for me to come out and play, we went out to dinner. Now dinner was alright; even with his constant checking out his hair in the reflection on the picture frame above the table. (UGH, pretty boys. I didn't even do that). There was good conversation and he made me laugh, so I thought I could put the honking incident behind me. That was until the check came. No, he didn't make me pay. Actually, I could have dealt with that better. He pulled out a buy one get one half off coupon. What kind of cheap ass thing to do is that? If you don't want to pay for my dinner, just tell me. I can afford my own chicken strips at TGI Friday's thank you very much. (Choice of restaurants should have been another tell, I know).

I know you're thinking it can't get worse, but it does. First of all, because I allowed the date to continue. Secondly, because his idea of an interim dinner and movie activity was to stop at a dealership and look at trucks. Thirdly, because after I stuck it out through the random truck shopping he wouldn't let me pick the movie. Lastly, because he paid for the movie with a gift certificate.

Now don't get me wrong, I am by no means saying that a man should have to pay for everything all the time. But he was the one who asked if "he could take me out". Even if he doesn't understand the whoever asks pays concept, all he would have had to do was say let's go dutch, and it would have been perfectly fine. Paying with coupons and gift certificates is certainly not a way to make a girl feel special. If he was broke, but still didn't want me to have to pay, he could have been way more discreet about the coupons. Just flaunting them out there, felt a little like he was saying, "Listen woman, I want to get in your pants but am not willing to make any effort to do that". I sure as hell didn't spend over an hour having my Barbie makeover just to be treated like one of his buddies. His lack of effort certainly got him nothing. Not even a second date.

Who does that?

Waiting

As far as I can tell, the interview went well. I'm not sure you can really call it an interview though. It was more of a meet and greet than an interview. They said they had already asked me everything they wanted to on the phone, and just wanted the opportunity to meet me. That was weird; I'm so not used to that.

Basically, the whole thing lasted about 30 minutes; they just talked for about 10 minutes about some of the details of one department (although, more time was devoted to Thanksgiving than the job details) then they took me on a 20 minute tour of the facilities. A few times they said things like "this is where you'd be doing this if you were here" and it felt more like they were selling it instead of me selling myself. So I left feeling pretty good about it, but then I had a long ass drive home by myself to second guess everything. You know how too much thinking time goes. They said I'll know by the end of the week. So here's to hoping.

Thank you again to everyone for your well wishes. It's meant a lot.

Crank it Up

T minus 6 days, 14 hours and 13 minutes.

That is the official countdown to the big in person interview that follows my successful phone interview. I want this so bad! I am so nervous! Although, there have been a couple positive signs over the last few days. They called last Thursday and said (paraphrased, as I've slept and drank since then), "We've bascially narrowed it down and are now just looking to see where everyone would fit the best". I saw another sign today when I noticed the posting is no longer on their website. (They didn't just take the front page link down, the whole thing is gone). So with my interview still set for Monday at 9:30, I'll take that as a very positive, finalist type sign.

Having said all of that, I'm still not getting my hopes up. I want the rejection blow to be as soft as possible, so I'll continue to think there's absolutely no chance. So with that, can you all shift the good vibes back into high gear? (Don't worry Brew, I've got the chicken in the pot and am ready to do the running man, too).

Now I will take my fear and go find myself a nice little suit and some fabulous shoes for the big day. Yeah, that will make me feel better. To quote a line from a show I still cannot believe I watch (Laguna Beach); "When in doubt, shoe it out." (Deb, I think you should have that monogrammed).

Okay, thanks for the good vibes!

T minus 6 days, 14 hours and 7 minutes.

Who Does That -- Part VI

Ahh, Monday morning. A time when the working world reluctantly rises from their cozy bed to meet the rising sun and start a brand new, glorious week punching the clock. Or so I'm told that is what Monday mornings are for.

I, on the other hand, pound the snooze button a good three or four times, lie in bed watching Sportscenter thinking "Why God? Why? Why do I have to get up and go again? Please don't make me, this bed is so warm and comfy". At some point though I finally feel the urge and rush off to start my glorious new week. (puke)

Arriving at work, I am greeted by cheerful morning people. You know the people I'm talking about. The people who when you open the door to the office practically yell "Good morning. How was your weekend? Want some coffee? Let me tell you this hugely exaggerated story about my weekend." Let's see, the response in my head says "Hell no I don't want any damn coffee. That shit is nasty. In fact I don't want you to speak to me yet. Come back in about two hours and I'll let you know then. Okay? And, oh yeah, bite me stupid morning person freak".

Now I don't really say those things, but damn I wish I could. I just mumble a quick "hello, it was fine" and mosey on to my desk. At this point I turn on my computer and check my few must visit morning websites. Imagine my extremely irritated state to find one of those sites has a new design. Talk about pissing off a non-morning person. How in the hell am I supposed to find the crap I usually read? I knew right where to click, I could do it in my sleep, and now you're sending me on some wild goose cyber chase. Yeah, well, you can bite me too, stupid website.

Morning people and redesigned websites....say it with me now:

Who does that?

Keep 'em Coming

The phone interview seemed to go well. They're asking for an in person interview, so I'll definitely take that as a good sign. This, of course, means the appendage crossing, crazy dancing and black magic must continue. However, the interview won't be for around twelve days, so you can ease up just a tad. I'll let you know when to crank it back into high gear.

Many thank yous again for the well wishes.

I promise to give you all a full scale blog entry today or tomorrow. How about a Who Does That? Yeah, that sounds good. I'm sure there's something/someone I can rag on. ;)

Warm Fuzzies

T minus 36 hours and 34 minutes.

That is the official countdown to my phone interview Friday morning. Guys and gals, this one is big! I really, really, really want this to work out. It is quite literally the one stepping stone to my dream job. Considering there are many factors to the decision process (on both sides), it's almost like the stars have to perfectly align for this to become reality. Which explains my extreme nervousness.

I'll post more details for you all later, but for now could you please just send me some positive/lucky energy?

Thanks!

T minus 36 hours and 30 minutes.

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia

Why does there always have to be drama? And how the hell do I always get dragged into the drama?

Today I had a very important meeting (at least in the eyes of those who matter) with my vice-president, director, two co-workers and about ten students who we are using as a focus group for a new registration product. So I'm sitting in this meeting, listening to the students rehash their initial thoughts, opinions and suggestions on their experience with the software. I'm busily taking notes, and brainstorming on our next step in the implementation, when my phone vibrates. I, ever so slyly, managed to pull my phone out of my laptop case and read the text message.

It was from my best friend, we'll call her Marcia, with a message that said; "Have you heard from (Doug) Simpson today? He won't answer my calls or text msgs. What the fuck?"

I sent a quick reply via the web, you know so I was still typing and taking notes. It said; "Yes. Sent a text msg about a football trade. He said okay. Can't talk now. Important meeting."

Three minutes later my phone vibrates again. This time it says; "We had a long fight/talk last night but left alright. I don't get it. He's fucking ignoring me."

This time my quick web reply said; "Sucks, but very important meeting. I'll call when it's over."

Marcia got the hint that time and left me alone to finish my meeting, at which point I performed my womanly, sisterhood duty and called her to rehash the problem. After being introduced through a mutual friend (me), Marcia and Doug have been seeing each other for a few months. Bottom line is they are not committed and have discussed that fact time and time again. They're free to see other people, just be honest. Surprisingly, this situation has worked quite well. That is, until the last few weeks.

Both Marcia and Doug are very good friends of mine and they both apparently feel the need to turn to me for advice. This relationship is imploding and I am continuing to be dragged in the middle. "Why won't he answer my calls? Who is this Cindy chick?" "I care for her, but I don't want a committment. I sort of like Cindy, but Marcia is great too." Yada, yada, yada.

As it turns out, Doug took Cindy out on a date last night. Marcia found out and inquired with too many questions, which in turn made Doug uncomfortable and pissed off. Doug's brilliant mind decided that Marcia needs time to decide if she can really handle a non-committed relationship, only he didn't make her aware of that fact! He just decided not to answer her calls, emails or text messages. (I will never, ever understand the male mind. Who in the hell does that?) Now I've got a teary Marcia calling and wanting me to tell her what to do.

I told them that I love them both, they're both my friends and I'm not their junior high mediator. So please leave me out of it, grow up, start acting like the mid 20s adults they are, decide if they have a relationship or if they're just getting some booty and to schedule their drama around my meetings. ;)

Fish Bowls

I'm not what some would call obsessed with it, but admittedly I have too much knowledge in the celebrity gossip world. It's sad, I know. Oh well, it entertains me. With that in mind, I pass along Pink is the new Blog. If you have any interest in the subject, then you must check it out. Hurry! Click! Go now! His commentary is ruthless, but I love it!

As a teaser, I give you a Halloween costume submitted by a reader of the blog.


Greatest costume ever!

Don’t move, dirtbag!

Did you know things really are better in 3D? This past week, I was reminded of that fact in grand fashion. VH1 fabulously celebrated, yet again, a decade of greatness; the 80s. A time when we learned that saying “I don’t know” would get green slime dumped on your head. A time when Bob Ross showed us the joy of happy little trees. A time when a microwave, the size of my parents current 30 inch television, first entered our home. A time when my dad brought the wonders of beta into our living room with a VCR very close to the size of their current 30 inch television. (Although, I think my mom would be better served if VCRs still had the big tape deck that popped up with the two giant red and blue buttons).

Those of us in the know remember the 80s for the outrageously fun times the decade brought us. Were the children of the 90s allowed to keep White Rain in business with the mousse and hair spray necessary for a ‘do four inches tall? Was it okay for them to wear three layers of socks, all in different colors? Do they know anything about the Geri Curl, activator and carrying a pick with a pump built into the handle? Were they mallrats? Do they know about hanging out in the arcade? Would they have any clue what the first Gameboy was like? I think not. And to that I say “gag me with a spoon”.

We also know that Saturday mornings are not meant for soccer games; they’re supposed to be spent in front of the television fighting your brother for the right to watch Jem over G.I. Joe. Thanks to Jim McMahon and Refrigerator Perry, we know how to do the Super Bowl Shuffle. Rodney Dangerfield taught us how to do the Triple Lindy. Rocky took down communism one Drago at a time. Ned Nederlander, Dusty Bottoms and Lucky Day saved the village of Santa Poco from El Guapo. Hair bands single handedly killed the ozone layer, but showed us how to rock! Most importantly, we learned to always, always, always steer clear of the whammy.

So in honor of the decade that spawned Madonna and Mr. Wizard, flip open your Trapper Keeper, whip out your erasable ink pen, doodle your love for Menudo, stand up and yell your “WOLVERINES” pride, phone home, put on your headband, plan a trip to Walley World, beat the Alpha Betas in the homecoming carnival, make Long Duck Dong your wing man and “snap out of it!”

Who Does That -- Part V

Picture this:

It's late on a Thursday evening. Being that you've decided to stay in tonight, you've just finished watching The Donald fire not one, but four interviewees on The Apprentice, and are settling in with Eeeeerrrrrr (pronounced ER by some people) when all of a sudden your phone rings. It's your best friend and she wants to know if you would be interested in going to "Ladies Night".

You, being a thrifty little devil, are required to say; "Psh. Free drinks, hell yeah I'm in!" Forget that you have to be at work at 8:00 AM, there are free drinks to be consumed. So you go with your friends to the bar, enjoy the free drinks, dance the night away and adjourn to your bed sometime around 3:30 AM. My aching head just has to ask ...

Who does that?

Can't Help Myself

Note to my non-baseball obsessed readers ~ I know you exist. Try to deny it all you want, but you're reading. Now I know I promised you a break in the baseball reading until February, but I also reserved the right to post a necessary off-season blog here and there. Well, I'm sorry to say it's already one of those necessary times. So please forgive me and I promise I'll make it up to you tomorrow with the much anticipated "Who Does That -- Part V".

As I watch the end of Game 4 in this year's World Series I can't help but feel a little retribution. It appears as though the Astros will be swept by the White Sox. While it is overly sad to see the National League swept two year's in a row, at the same time it is somewhat sweet music to my ears. You must be asking, "But Dana, how can that be?" Well allow me to explain that to you.

Where have all the Cardinals fans who are persistent Izzy bashers gone? I hear constant bitching regarding what a terrible closer he is and how the Cardinals should give up something as big as Ozzie Smith's spot in The Hall of Fame for a shot at Brad Lidge. Hmm. How good does Mr. I Gave Up Two Walk Off Homers in the Same Postseason look now? And oh yeah, he gave up the current leading run tonight, as well. Point being, Izzy is a top tier closer, just as Lidge is. They all have a bad day now and then; including Lidge. So stop it with the Izzy bashing, accept that he gets the job done and be happy he gets the job done for the Cards.

Another quick point is that the White Sox have so far scored 20 runs in four games against that same dominant Houston pitching the Cardinals barely touched. The Cardinals have an incredible offense, but for some reason they looked completely lost and scared out of their minds at the plate in the LCS. Ozzie Guillen sure as heck is not wound too tight and you can guarantee he is not putting too much pressure on his players. You can see it on their faces. The White Sox are walking to the plate with stars in their eyes, ready to happily swing away. That's they way it should be. It's baseball, not rocket science!

Last thought regarding the World Series; at least that incessant buzzing will finally stop! In the name of all things not incredibly annoying, I say thank you!

Okay, just had to say all of that. Whew! I feel better now.

A Wise Man Once Said

"I've learned there are three things you don't discuss with people: religion, politics and the Great Pumpkin." ~ Linus Van Pelt

If I believe in the Great Pumpkin, do you think he will bring me that elusive new job? These wonderful jobs keep showing up; I keep getting calls, but no luck yet. Too much experience, not enough experience, compensation not high enough, shady company, you get the picture.

By the way, what the hell is too much experience? Are you telling me your company does not desire an employee who has the knowledge and competency to complete the necessary duties? Would it kill your company to employ someone who has more than the minimum skills required? Is it not possible that the potential employee, who supposedly has an over-abundance of knowledge (is that even possible?), could use their abilities to instill changes that would improve the day-to-day operations?

And continuing the what the hell theme, if one is not experienced enough, how does one get experience if there are not any companies willing to give them a chance? There is absolutely no way that all the jobs in the world require ten years of experience, at the upper-management level, over-seeing 15 blind monkeys with only one hand each, and a proven track record of success in the automated banana peeling industry. Okay, okay. I have absolutely no idea what in the ridiculously made up jobs I just described, but it paints an accurate picture, doesn't it?

Anyone who knows anything about me will tell you that patience is not my best virtue; by any means. So I turn to you oh Great Pumpkin. If I visit the pumpkin patch for your annual arrival, will you please bring me a job? ......... Oh good grief. I said if. I mean when I attend your yearly pumpkin patch show. ;)

That's All She Wrote

Sadly, the end of 2005 is finally upon the Cardinals. It was a great run while it lasted, but I suppose it just wasn't meant to be their year.

A giant part of me just wants to tip my cap and say it was a great year, they accomplished so much with all the injuries and it's amazing they did as well as they did. But then there's disappointed and reflective fan in me.

I can't help but look at the recent postseasons and their failure to close the deal; especially with such talented teams. Even though they were good teams, with the circumstances and rosters of 1996, 2000, 2001 and 2002, I can somewhat stomach those loses. But the 2004 and 2005 teams were just made for a championship. I almost find it inexcusable for such a monstrous collapse. I don't care what people say, I put the majority of the blame square on Tony LaRussa.

The guy is in fact a baseball genius. He oozes knowledge about the sport. However, all that knowledge can lead him down a dangerous path at times. Ask just about any Cardinals fan, with a clue about the game, and they'll tell you LaRussa's over managing can drive them nuts. The reality is that baseball is a game; a little kids game that is supposed to fun. Some guys are just lucky enough to make a living playing this fun game. But when you have a manager who leads those guys so tight, because he's always thinking, they lose sight of the essence of the sport. A person who has the privilege to watch the Cardinals day in and day out of the regular season can see LaRussa wound tight, pacing the dugout, etc. But they can also watch as he just gets wound tighter and tighter as October nears. It doesn't take a lot to see that trickling down to his players. Yes, they need to take every game seriously, but there's a danger point where that business like attitude overflows and becomes too much pressure. I've watched LaRussa do that the last two Octobers and it's just so damn frustrating.

Don't get me wrong, LaRussa is a great manager. But is he meant to only be a great regular season manager? With over 2,200 regular season wins, 10 trips to the postseason, including four World Series appearances and only one ring, and just barely above a .500 record in postseason games, I can't help but wonder.

Another note about this year's NLCS versus the Astros; I hear a lot of griping in Cardinal Nation that the umpiring cost the Cardinals this series. I will agree there were indeed calls that were blown against the Cards, but what difference does it make if they can't hit above .200 with runners in scoring position? Folks, the umpires didn't cost the Cardinals a shot at another World Series title, the Cardinals cost themselves that shot. I think we should all layoff the umpires and the need for instant replay.

For my non-baseball obsessed readers, you will be happy to know this means the baseball talk should pretty much subside until about February. Although, I'm sure you will understand if I feel the need to post an occasional hot stove blog or countdown to Spring Training. ;)

Haiku II -- (It Worked Monday)

They held off defeat
Told to believe, but I think
We need more bees stat

Poetic Justice

"We were looking over to their bench, and guys were high-fiving. A couple of guys were even dancing. But until that fat lady sings, you can't do that." ~ Larry Walker

Haiku

Sacrifice chickens,
I already tried that one.
A bee genocide?

Ho Hum

It is 78 degrees in October, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the Cardinals got flat out owned by Roy Oswalt in game two of the NLCS, it is most definitely not a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

I was so perturbed last night; I mean literally to the point of telling Oswalt to "bite me" through the television. Mulder was alright, he didn't pitch great by any means, but he was decent and it sucked the offense didn't lift a finger to help him. The Cardinals just couldn't do anything with Oswalt. It was so frustrating to watch such a powerful offense get completely dominated. A couple of little league type things were frustrating too. For example, Grudzy not covering first and Molina's over-agressive passed ball. And Reggie Sanders took a horrible fall on the warning track; smacked his head hard on the dirt. God knows the Cardinals need him so, hopefully, he's alright.

It's 4:53 PM on Friday, which means I'm about to leave work. This is especially good news, as I really don't have good things to say, and there are many live chickens to sacrifice.

GO CARDS!

Who Does That -- Part IV

The following is a paraphrased conversation between myself (henceforth known as "Me"), my boss (henceforth known as "Boss Man") and a co-worker from another department (henceforth known as "Blame Everyone But Myself Man").


Telephone rings ...

Me: This is Dana, how may I help you?

Blame Everyone But Myself Man: (Very irritated voice) Dana, you did not give me the report you were supposed to have completed for me two days ago.

Me: I handed you that report three days ago. Are you sure you didn't misplace it?

Blame Everyone But Myself Man: (Even more irritated voice) That report is absolutely vital and it is highly unacceptable that you would neglect to submit it.

Me: I'm sorry for the confusion, but I distinctly remember handing you that report at a meeting in my boss' office, as you stressed over and over that you needed it ASAP. I rushed to complete it because, as usual, you waited until the absolute last minute to request it.

Blame Everyone But Myself Man: (Still with a very irritated voice) I have looked all over my office and it is not here. This is simply inexcusable! You are a terrible employee!

... Slams telephone




Boss Man: Dana, Blame Everyone But Myself Man called me and threw a hissy fit because you are not meeting deadlines and failed to give him that report he needed two days ago.

Me: I handed him that report three days ago when we were having that last meeting in your office.

Boss Man: Don't worry, I know that. I reminded him that he was supplied with that report in that meeting, and that three other people witnessed him take it from you. They also witnessed him thank you, over and over, for getting that done for him and then shoving it inside a folder crammed full of other papers.

Me: I tried to remind him of that, but he just raised his voice with me even more.

Boss Man: He tried that with me, too. I told him there was no need for that, with me or my staff members, and that he should go look in his office again. I also reminded him that there was no reason to freak out, as Dana always keeps a backup of her reports.

Me: Thank you, Boss Man.




Telephone Rings ...

Me: This is Dana, how may I help you?

Blame Everyone But Myself Man: Yeah, I found that report. It was under a big stack of papers. Okay, bye.

... Hangs up telephone before I can say anything.


Who Does That?

I Even Got My Own Dance ...

Well, here we go again; Cardinals vs. the Asteroids in the NLCS. This is the big series right here. I am so nervous about this series. The 'stros are SCARE-EEE! If this series is anything like last year's, I'm not sure the Cardinals can take them again. I can tell you this much though:

1) If I have to listen to Cardinals fans spending the entire series bitching about Izzy, I think I will lose my mind. The guy is a top five closer and he gets the job done. Who gives a shit if he puts a man or two on base, as long as he gets the win. As Harry_Doyle pointed out on CCH, the Cardinals could have Jose Mesa.

2) The Killer Bs and that damn train whistle might be the two most annoying things in Major League Baseball. Here's to hoping the Cardinals pitching staff pulls off excellent starts in Minute Maid Park, because every time I hear that train I'm going to bang my head against the wall.

Can you tell I'm uber worried and uptight about this series? Of course you can tell, because I actually have great respect for Biggio, Bagwell and Berkman. I'm just irritably nervous. (Still hate that damn whistle though.)

I had a very enjoyable weekend. Visited my brother and sister-in-law in Memphis. We had plenty to keep us busy. My sister-in-law and I, of course, shopped, we ate lots of scrumdiddlyumscious Southern food, watched the playoffs games and generally had a family bonding, merry old time.

... "The Humpty Dance is your chance to do the hump".

Who Does That? -- Part III

Hey! … Yes, I’m talking to you in the mini skirt, tube top and stilettos. Hang up your cell phone, put down your martini and come over here so I can teach you a little something something.

You’re in a SPORTS BAR! People didn’t come here to pick up a random piece of ass. They came here to watch the game(s). If you want to find a man to take home tonight, turn around, get back in your car and go downtown to a club. Got it? Okay, good. Now get the hell out of the way. You’re blocking the television and the waitress who is trying to give me another beer.

..........

You all know who I’m talking about; the women who pretend to be interested in sports just to try and land a man. The women who gripe because the baseball game they’re pretending to want to watch is “going into overtime.” The women who reluctantly, but with a smile, sit through a Packers game, only to complain that green and yellow just doesn’t match.

You know what; I’m not just going to pick on the wannabe sports gals here. Let’s not forget the men who know diddly squat about sports, but find a woman who does love her sports and then attempt to act all macho in an effort to impress her. Who do you think you’re fooling, Mr. I Just Called the First Base Umpire a Referee?

I swear there should be a law against this crap. Or, at the very least, some sort of entry quiz one must pass in order to be allowed in the sports bar. If you can’t answer simple questions, then too bad, you’re not getting in. Here are few examples:

A. Suicide squeeze ..... what is it?
B. Describe a hook and ladder.
C. What is a nickel back?
D. Would you sacrifice a batter with two outs?
E. Where is “the paint” on a basketball court?

I just don’t understand this pretend to be a sports gal crap. I guess if you want to go on attempting to have a relationship with someone you have to be fake with, then that’s your own decision. But I must ask .....

Who does that?

Fever?

Once again, the Cardinals got shafted with crappy playing times in the Division Series. The first game is tomorrow at noon, with the second game scheduled for Thursday at 3:00 PM. Doesn't MLB know that people want to see this stuff, and the largest majority of people are at work when they have these games being played? ARGH!

I guess it will be alright, as I believe I am coming down with a fever. I should begin to feel the first effects tomorrow around 11:30 and then again on Thursday around, say 2:15. ;)

Who's on First?

"You can't sit on a lead and run a few plays into the line and just kill the clock. You've got to throw the ball over the goddamn plate and give the other man his chance. That's why baseball is the greatest game of them all". ~ Earl Weaver

"I've come to the conclusion that the two most important things in life are good friends and a good bullpen". ~ Bob Lemon

"What does a mama bear on the pill have in common with the World Series? No cubs". ~ Harry Caray

September 30th...Awe, what a depressing, yet extremely wonderful date. This morning I put on closed toe shoes for the first time since April, which totally blows. I hate cold weather; it's so depressing. But as sad as the onset of cold weather makes me, it also happens to be one of the my favorite times of year.

"But, why Dana? How can something that makes you sad make you so happy at the same time? How is that possible?" Heelllllloooooooo! The last day of September means the greatest event of the year is beginning. That's right, October baseball! Bring on the playoffs baby!

Beginning with tonight's BoSox/Yanks game, I will be held hostage by the television, couch and beer until the last pitch of the Fall Classic is thrown. For example, next weekend I'm supposed to make one of my many trips to Memphis to visit my brother and sister-in-law. My parents and I are going to ride together since there is no sense in driving two vehicles. Last night they called me attempting to plan when to leave, etc. (They're big planners and I am so not! My official title is The Queen of Procrastination). They wanted to leave Thursday after work. I said that was simply out of the question; absolutely not possible, as there are Division Series games to be played that night. How can one be expected to miss a minute of postseason baseball? Duh!

This weekend marks the final regular season series at Busch Stadium. Literally hundreds of people associated Cardinals history will be on hand for the celebrations. I have many mixed emotions about the change in Cardinals baseball scenery, as my Cardinal memories are in this stadium but the new digs should be spectacular. So in honor of your namesake; here's to you Busch.

One last thought about this weekend's baseball festivities.......Mark "I'm Not Here to Talk About the Past" McGwire is being bestowed the honor of participating in the Busch Stadium countdown. This is a complete bullshit move by Cardinals management. They are shunning a major hero in Cardinals history (my man Willie McGee) and honoring a man who tainted the game of baseball and the Cardinals organization at the same time. That's right I said it; HE TAINTED THE GAME! I didn't like McGwire before he was a Cardinal and I didn't like him as a Cardinal either. People try to say: "Oh, he's never been caught"; "He saved the game of baseball"; yada, yada, yada. While it was not against the rules at the time, he was indeed caught with the performance enhancing drug Andro. And his horrible dance around the questions performance in Congress only made him look like a complete cheating, jackass. The man is a cheat just like Barroids B*nds. You know what else I find funny; a big majority of the people I know who defend Big Red are the first people jumping all over Barroids for cheating. Hypocrisy if I've ever seen it. And in conclusion ... Willie McGee is ten times the man and baseball player Mark McGwire ever was and CAL RIPKEN SAVED BASEBALL!!!

Okay, no more soap box. Enjoy your weekend of baseball folks.

Black Magic Woman

Have I mentioned that I hate Barroids B*nds? The man is the disgusting, yellow deodorant stain on the underarm of Major League Baseball.

If the Giants end up edging out the Padres in the NL West, I might have to boycott the entire postseason. Even if it means forfeiting my rights to watch my beloved Cardinals play October baseball. I can't take another round of the "let's put the Mayor of Cheaterroidjerkvilleton on a national stage and applaud him" game.

If and when he finally passes the Great Bambino on the all time homerun list, I think I will be forced to lock myself in my bedroom and cry for an entire day. No way does this man deserve to be mentioned in the same baseball lore as the Babe. If only he could be forced into retirement immediately after he hits 713; that would be sweet poetic justice.

Perhaps I should dust off the ole gris gris. I haven't had to use it since 2003, but a little black magic could be in order. ... You all thought Steve Bartman was just a freak thing with a non-thinking fan, didn't you? ;)

Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are

JOEY: If you ask me, as long as you got this job, you've got nothing pushing you to get another one. You need the fear.

RACHEL: The fear?

CHANDLER: He's right, if you quit this job, you then have motivation to go after a job you really want.

RACHEL: Well then how come you're still at a job that you hate, I mean why don't you quit and get 'the fear'?

CHANDLER: Because, I'm too afraid.

What is this fear and where does one find it? If you know where I can find 'the fear', could you pass that information along please? .... ASAP.

One, Two, Three, Get Loose Now!

I just stayed home tonight. Watched the Memphis Cardinals lose to the Reds and the premiere of Jason "No, you did not read that wrong, I really did name my son Pilot Inspektor" Lee's new show My Name is Earl. Or as my mom so eloquently called it, Who the Hell is Eddie?

Bless her heart; she is forever saying stuff like that. She is not stupid, by any means; more of a combination of ditziness and gullibility. It's almost like her brain works 50,000 times faster than her mouth or her handwriting can keep up with. Like the time she made these helpful signs to label the soda bins at the family reunion. It was a very fun event, and we all enjoyed some refreshing "Sprita". Or how no matter how unbelievably out there of a story my brother and I tell her, she whole-heartedly believes us, each and every time.

After work today she called me and said that my dad really wanted to see that new show that he thought looked pretty funny, but he couldn't remember when it was on. She thought I might know so she proceeded to ask, "Do you know when that Who the Hell is Eddie show comes on?" Sadly, I know my mom so well, that I knew exactly what she meant. I busted out laughing and said, "Well mom, I'm not sure who in the hell Eddie is either, but My Name is Earl is on tonight on NBC." And in keeping with family tradition, I immediately hung up with her and flipped that little phone back open to call my brother and tell him about Eddie. He, of course, laughed uncontrollably then called mom to tease her. She in turn called me back and asked why I just had to call my big brother and tell him what she said. It's our circle of trust, and it keeps us very entertained. Mom knows we love her though.

Regarding Earl; who knows if the episodes past the premiere will be any good, but this first one was good stuff. A few of the one liners from the first episode included: "Patty doesn’t care about muscles. Muscles can’t buy Mad Dog."; and "Towards the end I even pulled out my good boob." I didn't quite figure out if it's the fact that they're stuck in this tiny town and have yet to be exposed to post 90s culture, or if the show is actually set in the 90s, but the 90s references were laugh out loud. I mean any show that gives shout outs to Mad Dog 20/20 and Rob Base in the first episode is alright with me.

In closing ....

"Never underestimate the power of 15 beers, a little enlightenment and MC Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock."

Who Does That? -- Part II

Pilot Inspektor. In case you didn't catch it the first time, let me say it again, Pilot Inspektor. That's right, Jason Lee named his son Pilot Inspektor!

Now this is not exactly new news, as I think the child is a couple of years old now, but everytime I see anything with Jason Lee I can't stop myself from saying "he named his son PI-LOT INS-PEK-TOR!!" Every parent-to-be should have to submit their final three choices for baby names to a committee of about 25 third party bystanders. That should be enough people to ensure that all possible torturous, playground nicknames are thought of and, therefore, prevented.

We all know about Apple Martin, Coco Cox and even Jett Travolta, but I'm not just picking on celebrities here. Normal people name their kids stupid stuff too. I went to school with a kid named after a faulty car part. No lies. Nothing but the truth here. His namesake was a faulty car part!

Who does that?

What's Happening Hot Stuff?

Check out the uber hot picture of myself I added to my profile. :)

That's all for now, but there's an actual post coming just around the corner. Promise.

22 -- The Sequel

Another year? Really? Already? Say it ain't so.

Birthdays are fun, but do I really have to acknowledge the addition of another number? Psh. I think not. So I won't. I turned 22 (again) two days ago.

Since everyone has to work on Mondays, the friends decided to take me out Saturday night. We went out for sushi and drinks, then we moved onto my favorite sports bar so we could continue the celebrations with the Cardinals game and the three football games we wanted to watch. After that, we headed downtown for some dancing and pub crawling. Good times. Sunday (my actual birthday) my mom made me her fabulous lasagna for my birthday dinner. My poor dad does not like Italian food at all, but he suffered through for his little girl's birthday. I'd definitely call it a birthday success story. Stay tuned for next year's celebration; 25 -- The Sequel^2.

Final thought......I hate Barroids B*nds.

Troops, Good Deeds and (More) Football

I just ran across a blog that I used to read fairly often. Actually, Doc in the Box is just one of the many military blogs I used to frequent. I still read them from time to time, but not nearly as often as I once did. If you are not familiar with the life of a military person, especially a deployed military person, I highly recommend reading some milblogs. (Note: Those blogs have been known to contain hefty use of coarse language. Just a warning in case you are offended by such things.) They provide great insight into the everyday lives of the men and women putting their selves out there for us. Whether or not you agree with the the war on terror, these people are heroes and deserve our respect. But I digress. Doc in the Box is a Navy Corpsman, currently stateside, who has been deployed to "the Sand Box" twice. His blog literally has tons of links to other milblogs and military support sites, but what I enjoy most about his blog is his photography. He is an amateur photographer and, when deployed, used his separate photoblog to post pictures so friends and family could catch a glimpse of their Marine. I do not remember how, but I somehow stumbled across his blog on his first deployment and followed his unit all the way through both deployments. The pictures were excellent and showed their lives in a way you will never see on any news program. Anyway, I noticed some military support links on his blog today that interested me, so I though I would share. Support your troops!

Soldier's Angels
List of Support Sites

And while I'm on doing good deeds, if anyone is actually reading this, and has yet to donate, I encourage you to please do something to help the people affected by Hurricane Katrina. It might sound trite, but no gift is too small and every little bit helps. I work in philanthropy and we know that if each person in our constituency pool gave just $10, we would far exceed our monetary goal. Just goes to show that every little bit does count. Do what you can; it's needed.

The Cardinals beat up on the Pond Scum, err, I mean the Mets tonight. Pujols went yard twice and John Gall got his first major league dinger. That was awesome. I've had the pleasure of seeing Gall play in AAA a few times and it's fun to see those guys get a chance to shine for a month on their call up. Been watching the Pats/Raiders game too. Brady is looking as good as expected; 282 yards and two TDs with 9:23 left in 4th quarter. I'd say that's a pretty good start for my fantasy team! And Jimmy Kimmel told me, during the half time show, that Matt Leinart will be on his show tonight. Looks like I'll be staying up and watching Kimmel tonight. :-D

Who Does That?

You know how sometimes you forget to bring your lunch, but don't really feel like walking all they way across campus, playing a game of Frogger trying to cross the street, just to get your car parked in that ridiculously small parking lot, so you choose to stay, turn off the light, lock the door and eat in your office? Well that was me today.

I walked over to the campus eatery (no, not the cafeteria; the decent, edible one) to get some lunch and bring it back to my office. I ordered my Parmesan Chicken Wrap, fries and fountain drink to which the little girl behind the counter said, "That will be $4.53". That's fine; it's cheap enough and it's decent, edible food. I hand the little girl my $5 and she returns my change. Awe, but then I added those three fateful litte words, "to go please". Little girl behind the counter's response, "Oh, we're out of to go boxes. We just have the regular paper plates we serve in the dining room. I hope that's okay". Well, you already have my money, I'm hungry and I only have to walk to the building next door with my plate of food, so I guess it's okay.

I waited for my number to be called, picked up my food, carried the plate of uncovered food to my office and proceeded to turn off the lights and lock the door. If only I could leave it like that all day. :)

But I must ask myself, what kind of restaurant, that serves food to go, runs out of to go boxes? I mean it's not like you couldn't see the stack of little styrofoam boxes dwindling. It seems to me that when you see the stack reach a size less than, oh say, 200 or so, you would pick up the phone and order some more little styrofoam boxes. This doesn't just happen in a matter of minutes, it happens over a matter of days! You have the time to see the need for little styrofoam boxes, so order some more!

Who does that?

Football? Really?

I signed up here almost a year ago, when I was attempting to leave a comment on my friend Whitney's Blog, with the intentions of starting my own blog but never started posting. So here we are eleven months later and, having been inspired by my CCH counterparts (C70, NJ, and Brew), I've finally decided I'm going to give it a go. Hopefully, I'll keep it up.

I'm watching the Miami/Florida State game. Right now FSU is on top 10-7 with five minutes to go in the third quarter. I'm rooting for the Noles in this one.

I've spent a good deal of time watching football this weekend, albeit with mixed emotions. I love football, especially college football, so I am uber excited for the start of another season on the gridiron. But at the same time, it's still 90 degrees outside. That's not football weather! I so wish football would start at the beginning of October. Then it would go all the way through February, thus completely eliminating that torturous month between the end of football and the start of MLB Spring Training. Alas, we are stuck with the schedule the way it is, so I take it and enjoy the football when it comes.

Stay tuned. This blog will be continued ... hopefully.