Tag Archives: crazy talk

Elevator Etiquette

21 Tuesday Sep 2010

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I work on the 9th floor of an office building so I have a lot of first hand experience with poor elevator etiquette.  BUT before I launch into a tirade against the people riding up and down in my building let me focus on the “Riggins” part of this “Me Myself & Riggins” blog.

I have very little experience of Riggins and elevators.  This is a good thing as the experience I have isn’t great.  For being such a big guy Riggins is a giant scardy cat.  It’s no surprise an elevator ride with him would cause me nothing but grief.  The Petco by my house requires me to park underground and then find a way up with Riggins in tow.  The escalator is out of the question and the stairs require to go “the long” way around and even they aren’t great since you can see through to the ground and that freaks Riggins out.  So I decided to take the elevator.  Best of the worse.  The ride up wasn’t horrific since he didn’t know what was going on.  He got in the elevator casually but didn’t fight it much.  Then he took a STANCE  in the middle.  All 4 legs out.  Head down.  Un-moving due to terror.  After shopping I headed back to the elevator where, upon seeing the contraption, he put on the breaks and wiggled back and out of his seatbelt/leash.  Leaving me more panicked them him as he was now inches from the worse drivers in America.  I put his seatbelt back on and tried to push him in … didn’t work … did manage to fully entertain the two older gentleman watching from a bench.  So we had to go the long way to the stairs!

Taking a big dog on an elevator — poor elevator etiquette.

Now back to the humans and my daily horror of having to deal with them while confined in a small space.  Here is a list, based on my experience, of things you should and/or should not do while waiting for or riding the elevator:

– If I’m in the elevator happily riding up/down on my own and you and your significant other get in with me, don’t make out the entire “ride.”  This just happened to me moments ago.  It wasn’t fun.  Fair warning … the next couple to do this I will kick in the shins.

– If you are waiting for the elevator and the up and/or down light is already on noting that the elevator has been called for don’t push your way through the mass of people to push it again.  You aren’t doing anything more than pissing me off.

– If you are male you need to allow the female members of the elevator riders to get on or get off before you.  I say this as a feminist and realize that is contradictory and I don’t care.  If you push your way ahead of me you look like an ass.  Probably because you are.

– If I have pushed the button to call the elevator and then you show up and then the car shows up I get to go on first.  You should enter the elevator (minus the dude last rule) in the order you showed up for it.  I’ve made a mental list of who showed up when in my head and I expect that same ranking to be followed into the elevator.  Pushing your way in first is useless as, no matter what, we are all stuck in this box for the next few seconds.  The difference is now you will be taking that ride with me glaring at you in total hatred.

– Don’t wear perfume/cologne.  Seriously.  Did you swim in it?  Do you think that makes you smell better in some way.  You are foul.  Take a bath so you won’t give me and the other riders a migraine.

Now you know.  You can now fully experience riding an elevator without upsetting others around you!  You can think me later.

My Cooking Skills = You Jealous. Admit It.

17 Friday Sep 2010

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As I’ve mentioned before I read a couple of “healthy living” blogs. They are written by adorable 20 something year old pixies. Vegan or vegetarian with an undying love to whip up fancy foods for them and their equally adorable spouses before they head out for their 7 million mile runs. Just reading about them annoys me. How do this gals have the energy, time, and spirit to whip up a healthy breakfast, lunch, & dinner everyday? Zzzzzzzzz.

They are not me.

4 out of the 5 days of my work week I come home, throw on my work-out clothes, go to Bar Method class or for my run (3 ish miles vs. 7 million), come home and collapse in front of the TV for an hour before dragging myself to my bed (no need to shower by that point all the sweat has dried and Riggins doesn’t mind the smell) to read for a bit before sleep. I realize my life is much too exciting for most people to handle.

The biggest problem I have is figuring out what to make for dinner in the 5-10 seconds between going from not hungry at all post work-out to OH MY GOD I’M GOING TO EAT EVERYTHING IN SIGHT post work-out. Add exhaustion from a long day of work and then exercise and you get nothin’. I often make a big ol’ vat of something on Sunday and then put a pile of whatever that is in a bowl or plate, put it in the microwave for a bit, and ta da! DINNER! Lately I’ve been even too pooped to do that. I’ve invited what I call the NOwich. It’s like a Sandwich but not. Here is the recipe should you want to recreate:

Take a plate. Grab a packet of sandwich turkey slices. Take out a bundle of them and place on your plate. Grab a packet of pre-sliced low fat sandwich cheese slices. Take out two and put them on your plate. Make sure to take out the paper they put between slices as they taste horrible. Grab an avocado. Cut it in half. Scoop out the yummy goodness and put on your plate. Grab something from the fridge to drink and DONE! THE NOWICH.

I work from home on Thursday so yesterday I had a nowich for lunch. After Bar Method class I got home and couldn’t think about doubling up on those in one day so I grabbed my next “go to” dinner item. I will share this recipe with you as well (excited?):

Take a single serving 1 min brown rice container. Open it up. Grab a container of egg whites from the fridge. Poor the egg whites into the rice container until it is almost full. Put it in the microwave and hit “popcorn” setting. That isn’t actually a necessary setting it is just the only setting that works on my microwave. After a couple minutes take out the souffle looking item and turn it upside down on your plate. Add some salsa. DONE! EGG WHITES AND RICE.

Now when I told my mom my plans for dinner she was horrified. Who likes egg whites? I do. I LOVE THEM. If you think too much about what they really are, eggs, in general, are gross. Really disgusting. Egg whites are worse. They are the mucous plug of the chicken. Don’t look at me like that. You eat it too when they scramble up your eggs you know. Still they are tasty so you have to ignore their origin. I had an egg white sandwich for breakfast this morning!

Egg whites are also, I’m told, really good for you. Low fat, low calories, high protein. I learned this from a character on TV. He plays a doctor so I totally believe him.

So there you go. Two somewhat healthy (although not Vegan nor Vegetarian) meals that are easy and fast. Take that oddly healthy pixie-like bloggers!

Guide to Stalking Me

10 Friday Sep 2010

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Me being me I’m always trying to cut down on the ways people can stalk me. This is such a problem for me. Really. Shaking the stalkers. Paris Hilton, Lindsay & me. We are all very popular people. It is really much to easy to be a successful stalker given the information highway known as the Internet and our need to share every waking moment with our social network “friends.”

I’ve turned off the GPS id on my phone’s camera. Did you know, on most cells, if you take a photo and post it on Twitter (for example) people will know where you are since your location is part of the pictures identification? I didn’t. Well until I discovered a web site that tracked people via their pics. So OFF went that feature … as soon as I discovered where it was located within the spiderweb of programs on my iPhone.

I try hard not to “post” info about vacations I’m taking until after I return for fear someone will break into my house and still my Seven Deadly Sins plates (Art and functionality. Very practical. Definitely the first grab by any thief.).

I have privacy-ed up my Facebook page to the point that only a hand few of lucky folks see anything of any importance.

So imagine my horror when NY friends introduced me to FourSquare. This odd “game” allows you to “check in” places while you are there (you have to be there … your phone GPS has to be within a specific distance of the location). HOW FREAKIN’ CRAZY IS THAT? They assured me that it is “big fun.” My mind was then blown when Facebook jumped on the stalker bandwagon and launched “Places.” One glance at my Facebook feed and I could now tell you a friend was at a sushi place in South Pas or that my cousin was at the bar … again.

Now here is the part when you get shocked … I signed up for FourSquare. Lots of reasons but the biggest being I was curious and it turns out companies do use it as a marketing tool (it’s true I read about it multiple times in the ad trades) and since I’m in market research I felt I should check it out. My plan was not to ever check in anywhere but I had to start to see how you “play.” Then I was addicted and HAD to become mayor of someplace. Any place! You become mayor if you check in more than anyone else at that location over a 2 month period. I think. Honestly I don’t know how you become mayor and quite possibly made up that whole 2 month thing.

THEN IT HAPPENED! I became mayor of a McDonald’s! MY LIFE WAS COMPLETE … RIGHT? Wrong. I had a new goal. I HAD TO become mayor of my Bar Method studio. IT HAD TO HAPPEN OR I WOULD DIE … I HAD TO BE THE MOST DEDICATED BAR METHOD STUDENT THAT IS CRAZY ENOUGH TO “CHECK IN” AT A LOCATION ON A SILLY SOCIAL NETWORK SITE. I HAD TO BE! This week IT HAPPENED! Check out the picture above from my phone.

I am officially now mayor of 2 fast food restaurants and a work out club. Suck on that wackiness FourSquare!

Sigh … my life is complete. I can now rest easy and stop taking time to check my phone at every location I stop at everyday. Stalking me will no longer be quite as easy.

The Wendy Uniform – Comfort Is Number One

13 Friday Aug 2010

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Emails from Lucy and Lululemon usually go to my spam email folder. I’ve never changed this since it is a GOOD thing. I can’t bear to unsubscribe. This way I feel like I’m still getting the information from these fabulous stores without actually seeing them and falling into their trap. THAT IS WHAT HAPPENS. The email above made it through my spam filter and found it’s way to my inbox. It’s like poison. What happens when I see words like “exclusive deals” and “free shipping” is that I can’t help but to click on it. I’m powerless against it. Then I get sucked into the following logic:
* I have 10 million pairs of work out pants but these are more than 50% off. How can I not buy them?
* Just yesterday I was saying I need to replace a few of my work out tanks. Why not do that now?
* I can wear this in my everyday life not just working out so totally worth it.

Next thing I know my “cart” is full of lovely lovely lovely items and my pocketbook (electronic of course) is feeling the pain.

Here is the thing. I like to be comfy. It’s kind of a new thing for me. Earlier in my life (like a year ago … ) I would refuse to go out in my “work out” gear. I’d rather die then go meet friends for lunch in anything but a dress or fancy jeans. AND shoes … tennis shoes were for working out and that was it! Going out required heels, fancy sandals, or fashionable boots. Tennis shoes were not a part of my regular wardrobe. In fact a few years ago (maybe a few more than a few) I made a trek out to what was, at that point, a new place for me – Lucy’s. I had discovered that their work out pants were far superior to my generic Target brand and worth the extra cash. While at the store I couldn’t help but notice that they were selling the brand as a lifestyle. One for young moms who felt the need to be sporty while still being semi stylish. I laughed out loud (and may have pointed in my mocking way) at a t-shirt that said “Got Kid?”. Who would wear that stupidity?

Me. Now. Well maybe not the “Got Kid?” shirt since that is really kinda dumb and I don’t have kids so would be misleading and somewhat creepy. BUT I do own a number of Lucy t-shirts, tanks, and long sleeve ts. Most with some design that someone thought was “sporty yet stylish” in that “young mom” way. AND I LOVE THEM. I LOVE THEM ALL. You are hard pressed to find me outside of work in ANYTHING but work out pants, t or tank, and tennis shoes. I LOVE BEING COMFY … IT FREAKIN’ ROCKS.

Now here is the kicker. I’ve never been able to stomach breaking down and wearing the Wendy Uniform to work. Even on casual Friday’s I pull out the fancy jeans and high heal sandals. It won’t last. I’m telling you that right now. One of my co-workers/friends, who introduced me to Lululemon, informed me she wears Lululemon gear to work all the time. Even going as far as wearing the pants instead of work slacks. SHUT IT! HOW EXCITING IS THAT? AND she is super fashion chick. Since she has said that I’ve noticed the little Lululemon ohm sign thing on some of her work outfits and think, “BY GOD SHE IS DOING IT. SHE IS LIVING MY DREAM.” Today I noticed our receptionist had a fashionable pair of pants on … WITH THE LULULEMON OHM SIGN THING ON IT. So you see. It’s only a matter of time before the Wendy Uniform really is all I wear!

Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!!!!

21 Monday Jun 2010

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There is this nice guy on Match.com that keeps emailing me. You know my theory on email … it’s useless. You have to meet. I have maxed out on my back and forth chit chat and was going to ask him to meet for drinks.

First I had to look where he lived. I’ve never heard of Rosamond, CA so looked it up. (See map.)

IT’S ALIEN TERRITORY PEOPLE. ALIEN TERRITORY. I mean ignore that it is on a military base (which means if I’d lived there I’d probably get along with no one and be given some sort of scarlet rebel sign to wear so they could easily identify me … not that I’m against the military. I’m not at all. Thank whatever god you believe in that these people exist. I’m just not one of them. I don’t do well being bossed around and I’m HORRIBLE at mindlessly doing what I’m told. Again not that, that is a bad trait, I just don’t react well to it. Let’s call it a personality clash. On the other hand I’m BRILLIANT at bossing people around. Is there a way to join the military and skip everything and just become the boss?), ignore the fact that the nearest Target is most likely hours vs. miles away, ignore the fact that it is practically an overnight weekend trip to any actual “city”, it’s ALIEN TERRITORY PEOPLE.

Would it be considered insane if in my next correspondence I wrote, “I’m sorry to stop this before it begins but I’m too afraid of being abducted to date you.” Does that sound crazy?

(I can’t figure out how I started underlining this post … please ignore.)

Crazy with a Side of Crazy

05 Saturday Jun 2010

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I’m going to a friends wedding this weekend. I heart weddings. Well, truthfully I like any social event where I get to dress up, drink, and dance. I SUPER HEART DANCING. My fingers are crossed there is dancing at this wedding. FINGERS CROSSED!

In honor of my friends important day I decided to upgrade my traditional black toe nail polish for something classier, girlie, and a bit more traditional. Today at lunch I strolled over to the nail place next door to my work and ordered the Express Pedicure. After what seemed like HOURS of looking at polish colors this picture highlights my brilliant choice. That’s right. Navy blue. That was my big jump from black. My more traditional and girlie option. What a freak! Really how different is navy blue from black? It’s no pastel pink I’ll tell you that.

This picture also highlights another crazy pre-someone else’s wedding moment I had. For weeks now I’ve been freakin’ out about what to wear. A girl wants to look cute after all! My shopping excursions were busts so I was stuck with something from my closet. I live alone and fill up three closets so believe me there is plenty to choose from … if one was not crazy. I immediately thumbed down the little frock that I wore to work today telling myself it is too “matronly” (I just looked up that word since I wasn’t sure how to spell it–how it sounded seemed too easy. One of the definitions of “matron” – 2 : a female animal kept for breeding — nice.). Now notice the length of that very clingy skirt. It’s hitting INCHES ALMOST FEET above my knees. In fact every time I go to the bathroom (Which is a lot. Seriously I pee a lot. ) I laugh at how ridiculous I was to call this tiny little summer dress “matronly”. Once I even laughed out loud which added to the crazy moment. Nothing says “totally with it” like a woman looking at herself in a bathroom mirror laughing it up. This realization, that I wasn’t in my right mind when choosing clothes for this weekend, makes me question the whore-ness of the outfits in my suitcase. SERIOUSLY IF I THOUGHT THIS WAS MATRONLY WHAT DID I PACK?

Crazy with a side of super crazy.

Get Laid

16 Friday Apr 2010

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This blog entry’s title makes me laugh out loud. It also makes me happy that I disconnected the link to my Facebook page as it may be seen as offensive to some. BUT if Disney Online can come up and use really dumb puns so can I.

It seems Disney Online has partnered with Teri Hatcher to launch a site called “Get Hatched”. Advertised as a “Chick’s Guide to Life.” Get it. Because her name is “Hatcher” and “Chicks” “Hatch”. Ha! They are soooooo funny and clever.

I dislike this site and it hasn’t even launched yet. Part of the problem isn’t Disney’s fault. They didn’t sit in a Los Angeles theatre years ago and watch Teri Hatcher butcher my favorite musical roll of all time, Sally in Cabaret. BUTCHER. DESTROY. FLAT LINE. Best musical character for a woman ever destroyed by the need to have a “name” onstage. Most of the blame should be put on the casting director and producers (I can only imagine if the Director had any brain cells he was sobbing during the entire rehearsal and production run) who thought this was an a-okay idea. Although I do believe Teri should have been honest with herself and graciously declined the role with the words, “although I’m flattered I think it is obvious to anyone who breathes that this role is a bit outside my wheel house.” HORRIBLE. I CAN’T EXPLAIN THE HORROR THAT WAS THAT PRODUCTION.

So anything Hatcher and I’m out. I also find the tag line “Miss, Mrs., Mom, Me” annoying. It pisses me off for reasons I can’t put into words. I don’t need Hatcher (AKA Sally Killer) to guide me through life. I don’t know much about Hatcher’s personal life but what gives her the credentials to tell me how to live. She’s no Dr. Drew I’ll tell you that. Obviously I’m not the key demo for this website. If I am then time to rethink the concept! Perhaps changing the tag line from “A Chicks Guide to Life” to “Get Laid”. I’m just saying. Sex sells.

Poor Riggins

12 Monday Apr 2010

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Poor Riggins has been sick the last couple of weeks. That lead to a couple late nights of being helpless as he cried and threw up and cried and threw up and repeat non stop for 8 hours. His last bad night was last Thursday and I thought he was getting better until last night.

Last night as we were going to bed something was wrong. Riggins was having a hard time breathing and couldn’t get comfortable. He seemed to only want to stand in the middle of the room, with his tail between his legs snarling a bit while trying to suck in air. It was VERY upsetting.

I’m not a firm supporter of emergency vet trips unless necessary. I tend to think they don’t usually know much (well for that matter neither does the daytime vet) and it costs a lot of money and takes a lot of time. BUT my baby couldn’t breath. I carefully loaded him in the car and took off into the stormy night (it was raining — stormy). The emergency vet is super close to my house but due to panic and rain it took me a bit to find it the whole time saying out loud, “it’s okay we are almost there. You are okay just breath.”

When we got to the vet we had to be buzzed in. Apparently not the best area as not only were we buzzed in but the receptionist was behind glass. Since the place is emergency only they triage all patients. They came out to look at Riggins to see how bad off he was. A quick exam while standing in a brightly lit waiting room about the size of a walk in closet made her say he was okay. I tried to explain “this” wasn’t normal and that “this” wasn’t Riggins. When she turned back she agreed. Riggins breathing was getting worse and she said she was worried and would get the oxygen ready. I sat down with him while those in the waiting room asked me questions. I tried to be nice. I tried to answer sweetly since they were just trying to help. BUT I wasn’t okay and I just wanted them to zip it as I concentrated on not losing my shit. The nurse then came and took Riggins away. So there I sat. In a brightly lit glass closet sobbing quietly to myself. I put the hood of my sweater up since everyone knows that means I want to be invisible (a tactic that usually works on a plane, movie theatre, work, etc.). I did go through a laughing fit at one point when I heard the receptionist tell some f**ing moron on the phone what to do because his dog got into his pot stash. Really? Moron. My poor sweet, lovable Riggins couldn’t breath and some idiot was allowed to have a dog and couldn’t be smart enough to keep him away from his “stash”. Sigh. Moron.

A nice man with his adorable lab, Whiney, tried to make me feel better. He said he was sorry I was crying.

Another man told me it would be okay. This was after he found out Riggins was male. He was there with his pregnant dog … and pregnant wife … to him not pregnant was better!

My parents got out of bed and drove to the vet to be with me. Mostly because I was sobbing on the phone when I called them.

A nurse came out to get someone and when she saw me asked if I was okay. When I couldn’t talk and just waved to her she told me she didn’t think it was that bad and to just hold on. THAT DOESN’T HELP.

So I sat there and just kept hoping for the best. A yappy little mean dog came in (in the dog’s defense he had broken his leg and if I had his owners I’d yelp too) and I kept thinking, Riggins is too sweet. Please make him okay. He is so sweet just make him okay.

Finally we were called in to see the vet and Riggins. Riggins — who was fine. Seriously fine. Happy to see me and my folks. Panting but other than that breathing normal. Fine. They didn’t even give him oxygen. Just fine. His x-rays … fine. His temperature … fine. The vet didn’t know what to tell me (not surprising). So we all left.

Riggins slept through the night. Better than I did as I kept getting up and making sure he was breathing. He seemed okay when I left for work this morning. He got up and ate his food and, as usual, wanted more. He went and laid down. He seemed sad. Morose. Maybe trying a little hard to breath but not bad.

I’m now thinking that maybe he had an asthma attack? Maybe? How would I know?

My mom thinks he is just overly sensitive. A momma’s boy (she didn’t say that — I’m translating for you) whose normal routine had been turned upside down the past few weeks.

My dad thinks it is because he hasn’t been out on his hikes the past couple of weeks. I haven’t taken him since he has been sick … it seemed like a dumb thing to do.

I’m at work. I hope he is okay. I wish my office was closer so I could check on him at lunch. I wish I didn’t have to work. I wish he wasn’t sick. Poor Riggins.

The Pink Eye Scare of Twenty Ten

15 Monday Mar 2010

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After my sister and mom suffered through pink eye I was unhappy to discover my right eye was itchy, oozy, and unhappy. It annoys me that I would have pink eye for the same reason it would annoy me if I got the chicken pox. I’m not high risk. I don’t have kids. I’m not around kids. I don’t spend a lot of time with people with kids. As my hateful doctor pointed out to me there is no reason to get a chicken pox vaccine if I’m never going to be exposed to it. AND YET MY EYE HURTS. It’s mother natures cruel trick to point out to me I don’t have my own children. I hate that b**ch. (That line couple of lines made me laugh out loud at my desk like a crazy person.)

The worse part of maybe/probably having pink eye? Having to wear my glasses. Now my glasses have never really fit me because I forget to take them with me when I go to the eye doctor so that could be the ACTUAL problem. STILL HOW DO YOU GLASSES WEARING PEOPLE DO IT … AND WHY? You realize technology is on your side and contacts/surgery are now an option. They even have these awesome contacts you keep on your eyes 24/7 for a month before just tossing them and getting a new pair. I used them for over a year and LOVED them. I had the sight of a 5 year old. Perfect. Sadly my eyes are so horrific I had to change to a type of contacts that doesn’t allow for that 24/7 option. That doesn’t get around the fact that very few people actually HAVE to wear glasses now. It’s Twenty Ten people. Let technology work for you.

Here are the problems with me wearing glasses:

#1 I forget I have glasses on NOT sunglasses and constantly get caught starring at people.
#2 I forget I have glasses on NOT sunglasses and when I drive into a dark place (like the garage in my office) I take my glasses off to see better only to become immediately blind and nearly kill myself.
#3 I put my ear piece on while driving (so I can multi-task and talk on the phone) and knock my glasses off one ear. Result is similar to #2.
#4 I can’t wear mascara, the only staple in my make-up armory. If I do my eyelashes hit my glasses and just go all wacky and smudgy.
#5 I can’t run, swim, hike, bike, or do Bar Method with glasses on because I get so sweaty they slip off my face and I become blind again. How am I supposed to train for this triathlon with glasses on?

So I’ve given up. Pink eye or not I’m putting my contacts back on. SUPPORT TECHNOLOGY!

Counting is Fun! – Note

18 Monday Jan 2010

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Just wanted to let you know that as TV shows come out of their holiday hiatus I stand strongly by my choices of top 10 (see postings below). Well somewhat strongly as I feel I need to add Special Agent Anthony from NCIS. Darn my dad for getting me hooked on that show. In fact I love all the characters from that show except Abby. I may be the only NCIS watcher to dislike her. That wacky crazy scientist chick thing is annoying. I find it hard to believe that someone in a mini skirt, dog collar, and unhealthy caffeine addiction would be taken seriously in a male driven corporate environment. No matter how good she was at her job. (I speak from experience.)

Now that I’m talking NCIS I adore LL Cool J. I have no idea what his character name is so I can’t officially put him on the list but I still adore him.

P.S.
I heart Kendall.