Who Does That - Part XX

Having spent more than a week on vacation to visit Maverick's family for Thanksgiving, I've recently spent a lot of time mingling with the American "public". Everywhere from airports to train stations to shopping centers to restaurants to sidewalks to grocery stores. While I noticed an abundance of non-Emily Post acceptable behaviors in all of these areas, I want to concentrate on one in particular arena grossly lacking in general manners.

The extended time away included several visits to public restrooms. Now, I know what you must be thinking; "Oh I know the kind of disgusting person she's going after--the don't wash your hands person". That would be a good guess, but I'm going to skip right over the multitudes of disgusting germ spreaders I saw. That includes not talking about the very obviously seven to eight months pregnant woman, who I saw walk out of a stall and right out the door in the Minneapolis airport (I'm sure that must be one healthy baby she's cooking in there). Nope, not going to call her out. Nor will I mention the little heathens who I saw just throw their used paper towels on the sink in the T.D. Banknorth Garden bathroom, while mom watched over their acts and said nothing. Nope, not going to blog about that.

Instead, I'm going to tell you the following tale:

While eagerly snatching up the bargain deals at the L.L. Bean Outlet in Freeport, ME, I (as my grandmother would say) slipped into the little girls' room to tinkle. As I entered the ladies' room, I noticed the distinct sounds and odors of what was clearly a woman who'd enjoyed way too many beans with her lunch coming from the closed door stall second from the end. Naturally, I cringed a little and hurriedly made my way to the stall at the other end of the restroom, as far away from this situation as possible.

Hey, when a girl's got to make water, she's got to make water.

There I was rushing through my business so I could escape the very loud noises and obnoxious smells, when I heard a very strange BEEP.......BEEP......BEEP noise. This particular bathroom was tucked away upstairs in the outlet store, but located somewhat closesly to the only upstairs register. I was thinking that maybe the scanners were just really loud. Not so much. A few seconds later I heard Magic Bean lady say mid-toot, "Hello?". She proceeded to start a conversation with whatever poor sap was on the other end of that call, just tooting away. Not only was she choosing to have a phone conversation while she was on the shitter, but she was choosing to do it in a public restroom.

Who does that?

Good Intentions

An annual ritual in my department at work is for the staff to chip in money for a Christmas gift for our Vice President. Every year at about this time emails begin to bounce around regarding who will coordinate the purchasing gift, what type of gift we should buy and how much each person should contribute to the cause. This exact same procedure happened at my last employer as well.

Words cannot begin to describe how much this concept pisses me off.

I spend the last four to five weeks of every year trying to figure out how in the hell I will be able to afford to purchase gifts for my family and close friends (you know the people I love on many levels, and have been there for me through it all). As someone who only finished college two years ago, there's still not a lot of money on my pay stub every other week. What little is there I need to pay the credit card and student loans bills I racked up attending college. Not to forget the additional car note, insurance, rent, utilities, phone, gas, food and other basic survival needs to pay for. There's not a lot left after all of that. So trying to add in the cost of holiday gifts for the people I truly care about is no easy task. It takes of lot of creative thinking to land on something that shows you truly care about them, yet does not show how little cash you had to spend on the gift and still allows you to eat.

Now you want me to add on money for someone else? Someone whose salary I know has to be about four times as much as mine?

Don't get me wrong, I have mad respect for my VP. She has honestly been the best boss I've ever had. I've learned so much from her, and she's done countless things to help me, both professionally and personally. She's a great person. Truly, she is.

It's not that I think she is worthy of a gift. However, feeling forced into forking over money for a gift for her just makes me bitter. Bitter that it takes another $20-$30 (depending on how guilty my co-workers make me feel) away from possible gifts for my parents, Maverick or my brother and sister-in-law.

I always end feeling like this situation is Robin Hood in reverse, and it really grinds my gears!

Moving On Up

The holidays are sneaking up on me faster than a seven year old boy should run away from Michael Jackson. Don't get me wrong, I love Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's. I really, really do. Time with family, a few days away from work, getting to break out your fat pants for the gorge fests we Americans nonchalantly call dinners, bowl games, ginormous rings from the one you love in a little box under the tree (okay, okay, wishful thinking, but a girl can dream)--all treasures of the season. However, I always seem to find myself a little relieved when it's over.

I'm beginning to feel my usual stresses of the season. The anxiety of gift ideas (for me going out and picking up something isn't the problem, it's determining a suitable gift for someone to show them they mean something to me, yet the purchase of said item doesn't mean that come January I have to make my home in a box on the street corner). The "dear gawd, I need to exfoliate" feeling of drier skin. The dread of walking out of my apartment in the mornings, still half asleep, forced into exercise before noon (one of my biggest pet peeves) because I have to spend ten minutes scraping ice from the windows of my car. The annoyance of people who drive with wreaths on their cars--it's an automobile, not your home. The emotional torture of having to give your most Oscar worthy performance while you try to convince your grandma you really do love purple argyle leg warmers, and they'll be the perfect accessory for your work outfit on Monday, when you're actually just forced to drive all the way to GoodWill and donate them because your grandma didn't put a gift receipt in the box. The unexplainable pressure we all feel to have the most to die for New Year's Eve party to attend, otherwise you will be the social leper of the entire city, but you can't seem to find one to grace with your presence as they all seem to boast a cover charge equal to an entire month's rent.

All of these things add up. By the time the calendar turns to January 2nd I usually find myself spent, emotionally and checkbook-ally. But, guess what? This year I have a new stress point to add to that list.

I have come to realize that I am officially one of "the women" at the holiday dinners. The only problem with my graduation to the adult table is that I must now also become a member of the please bring a side dish club. Naturally, I have absolutely zero idea what in the hell I should make/buy/bring to any of the upcoming dinners. The worst part is that I am finding myself way over thinking this, especially the what do I bring to the dinner at Maverick's aunt's house part. I feel like it has to be something unbelievably tasty and memorable, in some sort of unnatural I really need to impress these people way. Which is just silly considering I've met the members of his family several times. For some reason though, I am stuck in this Paula Deen, Emily Post, June Cleaver realm of perfection.

Soooooooo, any ideas on a fantabulous appetizer type dish?

Who Does That - Part XIX

Seen at a local tourist attraction on Saturday, a young lady with an outfit that was just all sorts of wrong. Not as much the goth nature of the ensemble, as the fact that it's about four sizes too small.



Also worth noting is her companion who is not wearing a bra, and happily sporting breasts that rest on her stomach.

Who does that?

The First Step

Hi, my name is Hera and I'm a crabby bitch.

It all started in the spring. The receptionist at my work announced her departure, which meant I had to take on one of her duties as no one else was trained to perform the task. The goal, according to my VP, was for me to train her assistant to eventually take over the duties the receptionist left behind since that position would no longer be a part of our department. I thought "that's fine. I can handle a little extra work for a short period of time. It's only temporary and I'm happy to help if necessary".

Of course, the executive assistant announced her departure from the organization shortly after the receptionist left. At this point, I gained even more extra duties "in the interim" as the search for a new executive assistant got underway. Again, I thought "that's fine. I can handle a little extra work for a short period of time. It's only temporary and I'm happy to help if necessary".

The applicant search was excruciatingly long. It bled over into a co-worker's maternity leave and into what is the time of year I refer to as "hell on Earth" for my position. In essence, for the last four months I have been holding down three, sometimes four jobs--all during what is the absolute most stressful period for me even in a normal month.

As the time wore on I became a quite the bitch. Scratch that, the term I'm looking for is crabby bitch. At about month two I reached crabby, by the end of month three I was unbearably bitchy. The things that sent my mood South varied. Sometimes it was the mounting workload, sometimes it was the stupid questions I didn't have time to answer, sometimes it was the recognition of others' efforts while mine went unnoticed...again. Most days I hated everything about my job, my employer and 85% of my co-workers. I even brought my anger home on occasion--an extremely unfair thing for Maverick to put up with. However, he has weathered the storm as if it was nothing at all, and simply his job to make me feel like it's okay to uncontrollably sob at the drop of a green bean onto the kitchen floor.

No longer.

The executive assistant position has not only been filled, but the person holding down that job now seems to be (almost) trained and self-sufficient in the tasks I needed to be able to get that position responsible for once again. Great hire too. I think this person will be an extremely good fit for the organization. Just in time for my busiest time of year to be almost over as well. I'm back down to just about one and a half jobs. The stress level is way down. Thankfully. I've come to realize that a) I simply could not handle that amount of stress any longer, b) I was about to have a complete and utter mental/nervous breakdown, c) I have got to get back to my old happy self--being miserable every day is just not a way to live.

So there it is. I'm a crabby bitch. Rather, I have been a crabby bitch lately, but as of this moment I apologize for my crabby bitchyness and I will no longer be a crabby bitch.

With that in mind, I'm off to celebrate Halloween with some of my favorite people in the whole world--Maverick and my BFF.

Yes, I went junior high on you! It's the spirit of the kid holiday. It's taken over me.

Muse

Having been inspired I thought I would share my love for autumn. Being a not so closeted, warm weather, beach bum at heart most people would think that I loathe the onset of winter. On the contrary, you'll be shocked to learn that I actually welcome it. Just as I'm sure Britney is hiding her longing to return to the days of Cheetos and barefooted gas station restroom stops, I conceal my love for the comforts of cooler temperatures. Not anymore. Here are my twenty great things about the change of seasons.

1. Piping hot soup in a bread bowl.

2. Vibrant yellow leaves covering an entire tree.

3. Postseason baseball.

4. Warm, comfy and yet uber sexy sweaters.

5. Little kids in Halloween costumes.

6. Apple cider.

7. Snuggling up on the couch with a blanket, Maverick and watching a movie.

8. Anticipating a huge Thanksgiving dinner.

9. Football.

10. Flaunting my fetish for gloves, scarves and winter hats.

11. Mums.

12. Enjoying time with my wonderful family on the holidays.

13. My favorite TV shows are back from summer vacation.

14. The Heisman Watch.

15. Overusing the Crock-Pot.

16. Gift shopping for the people I love.

17. Hockey.

18. The indescribably comforting feeling of being cocooned under three blankets.

19. Pumpkin carving.

20. Wondering what will be inside the neatly wrapped box(es) under the tree in December.


Who knew there was such a sucker for cheesy nice things hiding under my tomboy persona?!

Coming Out of the Dark

Wow. It has been eleven months since my last blog post. Well, technically in those eleven months I have visited Blogger a few times and typed out a post, but never published it. At any rate, that's just awful. I've been very lazy. There is really no other way to say it. To my faithful readers, both of you, I sincerely apologize. I will no longer be a slacker.