corporate pirate

Dude, pirates are everywhere, aren't they?

The pirates movie, the books, the clothing, the accessories. Spaghetti just bought a pair of jeans for the fit and they had the skull and crossbones on one pocket. Hells bells while ctina and I were at the bar tonight two girls came in dressed as pirates.

Yes really.

Whatev, I can hang. What is a pirate's favorite kind of sweater? ARRRRRRgyle.

Oh yeah, you love me for so many reasons other than my sense of humor. Get over it.

Today I was a corporate pirate. I had a job opening, and I ended up hiring someone from my old company...my old department even. Yes, I pillaged from my last job.

Oh, the guilt. Oh, the guilt. Oh, the relief of having hired someone I know from experience is competent.

It’s a good thing I enjoy rum...and had practice wearing a patch as a child. (Again yes really, two years thank you very much)

spot

Part two of the pet chronicles.

A mere month after losing Lucky, I felt I was ready for another pet. Moving up on the size scale I decided to get a snake.

Now, I'm not crazy, I didn't want a pet that could in any way harm me. No poison and no squeezing to death, thank you very much. After a little bit of research I decided on a corn snake, no teeth and no threat. His name was Spot.

A mere 12 inches long he would fit in Lucky's old aquarium, and his diet would consist mice. As he was a young snake he was too small to eat the full grown fuzzy rodents, so he got to eat fetal mice. Yes, I moved up from purchasing crickets and keeping them alive to buying frozen fetal mice and keeping their little pink corpses in the freezer.

My roommate at the time already had a fear of snakes she had to deal with thanks to me, but she also had to live in conscious denial of the fetal mice stored next to the ice cubes. Yes, she was a saint.

Life with Spot was pretty good. He spent most of the time hiding, burrowing under the sawdust to the bottom of his aquarium. He only ate once a week, so despite the strange dietary habits he was really a great pet, on the ease scale.

After having him for about a month I would feel guilty about him being so confined all the time, so occasionally I would let him out to play.

(Gee, can you tell where this story is going?)

Now, I never did this when my roomie was home, as she would kill me. After she recovered from dying of fear. So home alone I would sit in the living room while he slithered around in perfect bliss.

One day I got a bit distracted.... and he was gone. Just like that, one minute he was there, next nowhere to be found.

Oh boy, did I ever look high and low for Spot! I dug in the couch set, looked outside, searched both bedrooms and the bathrooms. To no avail, he had made his getaway and he could have gotten anywhere. He was only about a half an inch in diameter, tiny enough to get through many a crack.

Now to add the situation, I was due to go on vacation in two days. To Disney World with my friends. My first ever trip to the happiest place on earth, we were planning on driving down in a test Cadillac (friends in high places) and getting a five-day pass. This meant I was going to be gone for a week, and my roomie was to be left alone with Spot amid his prison break.

My choice of action seemed pretty clear. Lie. Lie lie lie.

What was I going to say, "I lost the snake, good luck with that, see you in a week!" Then walk out the door? Nope, I said, "Spot has been fed and is set while I'm gone. Don't you worry about a thing. And if you look in his cage and don't see him, it is because he sleeps under the sawdust.

Best laid plans...I got a call the second day of Disneyworld from a rather upset roomie. Seems her cousin had come over and wanted to play with Spot. To find him missing. Roomie was concerned that I might think she had caused his demise or escape on purpose, since she didn't like him. The girl felt terrible.

Talk about guilt. So I came clean. Well, mostly. I admitted to losing Spot...while playing with him outside. Where roomie's guilt was appeased her nightmares began, but at least she got some comfort from his not being lost indoors. *cough*

Turns out Spot would have grown to be at least five feet long. Ummmmmmm really I didn't do anywhere near enough research before getting him. Obviously.

I had assumed maybe he would grow to be a foot or two long. Then there would have been the issue of getting attached to all the cute fuzzy mice I would have to buy and keep just for the slaughter. My life would have been overrun with pets! Cage and food for the mice, HUGE cage and stuff for Spot.

It all worked out for the best I suppose. I like to imagine that Spot still lives, roaming the walls of that apartment complex keeping it nice and pest free for the inhabitants. Nice and warm and well-fed, living on his own terms, free as a lark.

Oh, and you would think this is the end of the pet stories, but it continues yet...

yep

Amen sister, amen. Especially about the bastardization of Audrey Hepburn. I am boycotting The Gap, even if I do love their bras, dammit.

attention deficit disorder

Once upon a time I used to be a bit of a prankster. I was known to cause a little trouble, stir things up. Actually, I used to act out a whole hell of a lot.

I learned young that negative attention is better than no attention at all.

Listen, I was a middle kid. Whether or not that really means anything, I got in trouble a lot as a child. And subsequently was angry and bitter for a long time about that fact. Even if, well, most times I was actually guilty.

Putting Han solo in the freezer - in a glass filled with water. A glass glass. Causing a bit of breakage. Yep, that was me.

Torturing my sister who was afraid of the dark while babysitting by following her around the house turning off all the lights as soon as she would turn them on. Me too.

Egging my brother on to get him so pissed off he turned red and was practically in tears. Okay, that was my sister.

(Not really)

At some point I stopped getting noticed for my bad behavior. I got attention for my good work. So I stopped acting out. A lot less people got hit with whipped cream, and I believe multitudes of people are happier for it.

Thing is, when I stopped being bad people started to see me as being nice. Which is not necessarily so so wrong, but combine nice with a tendency to be sick and you get a whole different animal. Suddenly I am fragile. People who know me furrow their brow when listening to me. If I show any sign of stress or weakness they are deeply concerned.

People don't tease me any more. No mocking, no making fun, no jokes. My friends and I have serious conversations and talk deep thoughts. Our stories that are on the funny side tend to elicit a chuckle and a "that's funny" instead of raucous laughter.

It could just be a simple matter of you get what you give. I wonder if I get that prankster muscle back in gear, start poking some fun at people, if things will get a little lighter around me. I'm tired of being serious. I want silly back.

I want some negative attention goddamit.

lucky

Once upon a time I had a pet green anole, and his name was Lucky.

Lucky was cool. If you did not know, a green anole is a kind of chameleon. He was pretty easy to take care of. He lived in a small aquarium, and I fed him crickets.

Okay, I have to admit feeding crickets to a pet is somewhat difficult. Because Lucky would only eat live crickets. Which meant that I had to buy them in bulk...and keep them alive. In effect I had to take care of crickets to take care of Lucky.

Good times.

One day after I had been with lucky for a couple months I discovered his cage was empty. It seems I had not put the cover on the aquarium as securely as I should.

I looked high; I looked low, but no Lucky. I gave him up as lost, assuming he had wandered off into the great unknown.

Eight months later I moved from that apartment in Sterling Heights to Hamtramck. (This move consisted of my friends breaking into my apartment and packing for me because I was a disorganized sumofabitch.) The move was done, my life down the stairs across town in a moving truck and up another set.

Unpacking is always interesting. It becomes even more so when you find the skeletal remains of an old pet wrapped around part of a milk crate.

Do you know what a green anole looks like dead? Ummmmm, still green, maybe just a bit skinnier. Lucky was fossilized in a U-shape, and discovering him was a bit of a shock. Guess he got loose, and just hung out in my closet for a spare cricket to come his way. Sadly that never happened, and he just dried up while staying still. And moved with me.

To celebrate his life I hung Lucky on my Xmas tree that year. So he could be there with us.

Oh, but guess what. It is hard to find a green item on a green tree. Making Lucky an ornament was yet another tragic decision in the saga, I was not able to find him before tossing the tree off the second floor balcony. So frustrating to find him and then lose him all over again. Blast!

Lucky went down with the Xmas tree. Seems my experiences with Lucky were not so lucky after all. Doomed from the moment I named him, you may say.

Or just doomed because he was my pet. (To be continued…)

life, the universe, and everything

Okay, this is of great import.

Toilet paper - over or under?

Makes for fun shared living conditions. The ultimate in passive-aggresive relationships can be defined in this answer. ooooh, where do you stand?

bwa ha ha!!

Now you know I love my first ipod...

my latest love 

I have replaced it twice, but I am running out of time before apple care dies.

Now, I had considered the nano, but it only had up to 1,000 songs, and my baby above had 1,500. I was tempted yet again when the whole ipod+nike sport kit running thing got introduced, but not enough. (Although the idea of someone whispering my pace at regular intervals in my ear gives me happy chills.)

Don't you worry, my favorite company has taken my wish and and raised me one as par for the course.

God I love Apple. *sigh*

ex-communication

Is it healthy or unhealthy to be friends with an ex?

Modern day culture tells us yes. Seinfeld and Elaine, Will and Grace. Where you were not compatible to be life partners, it is possible to accept the compromise and take a buddy. Assuming of course that the relationship ended somewhat amicably.

Historically speaking, this is really new ground. Before the world got smaller and the invention of reliable birth control, the dating window was pretty darn minute to nonexistent. And as for familiar relations? Hells bells no. Fifty years ago just about any sexual relations not associated with matrimony were kept so under wraps the entire scenario was a disaster unto itself.

What seems to be tricky is the relearning behavior curve. It takes time to become familiar with someone, and to redefine a relationship takes time and effort. Practice makes perfect, and one needs patience to learn a new role. Because that is what it is, a new role.

You are the person that gets to hear about that person dating, and you are not supposed to feel jealous. As a friend you listen and potentially offer advice.

This person exhibits a behavior that was negative and drove you crazy when you were dating, but it isn't your place to argue on it. As a friend you just shake your head.

Oh, and re-learning the physical stuff, that takes time too. Once you are sexually familiar with someone it is almost easier to touch them than not. If you ex needs comfort the pull to reach out is very strong, pretty much instinctual. As a friend you look but don't touch.

How many people do I know who are still in touch with previous lovers? Now how many of them have healthy friendships, not fraught with jealously or drama? Really, I don't know.

When is the desire to stay friends because of an effort to remain in the other person's life at any cost waiting for an opening to get back on that horse, and when is it just because two people simply enjoy each other's company? Is it possible to be platonic once you've crossed that line?

scandal

Our eyes met as I entered the room. The spark was immediate, the attraction undeniable.

Do we play coy? Pretend not to notice what is there?

No way that is going to happen. Thing is, he leads a high profile kind of life. A sordid evening like ours cannot be well known, cannot be part of public knowledge. We knew from the beginning this night would be the only of its kind.

But I do have photogenic proof that I share with you, my close personal friends, of a moment of our one fabulous evening...





Time is fleeting but memories are forever.

shakedown

So this morning on the way to work I had an interesting experience. It lasted about twenty seconds, if that, but the idea of it has stuck with me all day.

I was on 46th Street walking from 7th avenue to 6th avenue, when I saw a ladder ahead. It was a straight ladder, going to a second floor window. There was no major construction going on, and it was empty of climbers.

About 75 percent of the walk able street was under the ladder. The other 25 percent of sidewalk was in front, but there was also a man on that side leaning against a car obstructing part of this path.

It took about two seconds to asses the situation. I had about twenty feet to walk before choosing a direction.

Choose to walk under the ladder, risk potential bad luck. Bad luck may not exist and superstitions may be silly, so why worry?

But what if superstitions are real? Don't I believe there is magic in the world, phenomena beyond our comprehension?

To walk under the ladder would show the world that I am above fear of such silly things. To walk around the ladder would show in no uncertain terms that indeed I am intimidated by old wives tales. What kind of tough new yorker avoids walking under a ladder?

Yeah, I totally walked around the ladder. Fuck what other people think, I gotta follow my gut. And my gut said walk around, just in case. I'll trust my instincts over self-consciousness any day.

something not so new

Okay, so you know that guy I went out with last week?

He emailed me, I emailed back. We talked about a second date. Then he found my blog and read it for three straight hours...and sent me an email to say maybe we were not meant to be. (And he has been checking for my follow-up since - hi artist!)

Well, if there ever was a good way to introduce myself I suppose this is it. Love me, love my blog. Okay, you don't have to love my blog, but not hate it works well enough.

I used to point out my blog on my match profile. Then I figured that people should be introduced to my many delightful idiosyncrasies slowly and gently, not so much all in one fell swoop. So I pulled it off. But it isn’t hidden, and I don't make it hard to find for a reason. The artist and I didn't gel and that's cool.

Cause if there is anything I know, it is that I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darn it - people like me. So goddamn it back on the horse I go. :)

how dry I am

I'm sitting here trying to think of a really good rockstar story. It seems like I don't put enough of the old classics on.

Now for obvious reasons I'm not putting the Disney story on. Something like that requires a bit of trust.

But what am I missing? Help me out people; give some shout-outs for classic rockstar stories if you would like to hear 'em. For the fiftieth time, as the case may be. Heck, wouldnÂ’t you like to have them chronicled online so you can forward on to your own friends to say, "I remember when...."

If you don't want a spoiler you can just email me the hint and I'll work it up like nothin. Let's make some nostalgia magic together people!!

from sap to dork

Okay, a little somethin somethin to whet your appetite while you wait for the next season of Battlestar Galactica to start.

Make sure to check back every Tuesday and Thursday.

End of service announcement. You may return to your regular programming.

new job deep thoughts

There is nothing I love more than coming up with a really good analogy.

Really, it is like one of my top five favorite things to do. Just ask anyone stuck with me for more than a couple of hours, I'll spew out at least three.

This new one I am quite proud of. People keep asking how the job is going, now that I have been there for a month. I was struggling with a really bad baseball analogy, but finally I got it.

Ahem.

Working at this new job is like learning to rollerblade after becoming proficient in ice skating. The motions are the same, as is the concept of balance. But you have a new surface that you have to lean to navigate and react to. Oh, and a whooooole new way to brake.

See?? Uh-huh.

characters

Growing up I read. A lot. A lot-lot.

Looking back I wonder which compulsion led me. The need to escape into another world? A desire to learn as much about life as I could? Dreams of knowing different people in different situations?

I have an uncanny ability to sit down and concentrate fully on things. Today I read The Memory Keeper's Daughter from cover to cover. Oh, it only took me about nine hours. Yes, I took two breaks to eat in there. Here I sit one book wiser and perfectly content with my day spent on the couch.

At some point during this it occurred to me that my views on life are directly shaped through what I have read in my life. When I meet people I ask them questions, searching for their main motivators and defining characteristics. Just like you seek out in any book. This person is keeping a secret that prevents them from being able to bond with their family. That person is scarred from being on the streets as a child, and therefore is self-abusive. Another person was saved from a life-threatening situation by a complete stranger, and now lives to repay the favor to as many strangers as possible.

My concepts of life fall into plot lines as well. Cheat or lie and you will be punished, if not by external forces than internal. Very often people do wrong things, often for what they believe to be the right reasons. Love and friendships really do rule the world.

What came to light today was one disturbing truth. Once broken a person tends to stay broken.

Think of supporting characters, they by far outnumber the main ones in any story. They more often than not have a flaw that drives them. These people may not always be unhappy, but are flawed all the same.

The reason the main character is the main character is because he or she overcomes something. Which is an experience that most of us seldom accomplish.

If you had to define yourself as a character in a book, and not the main one, how would you describe your central flaws? And don't cheese out here, let's talk underlying reasons too. In my book how would I define you?

Quite a mind shift eh? Often we ponder on how others see us, but do we ever look at ourselves as a compete defined character in a story? One in which we are NOT the main character? I know I hadn't before, and it was a bit of a shock on the ole' cerebellum.

In order to truly love someone you have to love what is wrong about a person before you can love what is right. If someone only knows your bright side they don't know you at all. So if you don't realize your own flaws, can you ever really love yourself?

the future is nigh

Who knew that Big Brother would sneak up to us in the form of a mouse???!!!???

Think of the implications here...

little treats

As a gift to myself using my new improved income, I finally have bought a new pair of glasses! I always shop at the same place, See Eyewear at the Ann Arbor location. Having worked there as an optician I learned two things:

1) That I have an incredible talent for helping people find frames. Bring anyone in and I can actually make you look better than you did sans four eyes, I promise.

2) This particular store has the best variety of stylish and attractive glasses anywhere. Really.

Check it out; don't I look smart and sassy????




The other pair I had on file were heavy black with rhinestones, but at my new place of employment there seem to be quite a few people who already have the heavy frame cutting edge style look already, so I chose this streamlined look.

Now if only I was this good at shopping for clothes or shoes. *Sigh*

something new

You all are about to be very proud of me.

Ready?

I went on a date tonight. Yep, I met someone on match, we emailed, and I actually showed up. We shall call this gentleman the artist. Because he is one. By night at least. By day he is a corporate super hero.

My secret to following through on the date was pure denial. Every time I though about meeting this guy I just changed the channel. Also as a switch I told nobody I was going. I had a dual bday party to attend later, so I just would think about that instead.

We had arranged to meet for drinks, coffee specifically. He said to meet at the NW corner of 5th ave and 60th street. Of course there are no coffee houses or bars nearby. He had flowers ready for me, as well as a backpack and a full plastic bag in tow. (At this point I realized I was going to be late for the bday gig!)

We walked into the park for a bit to a nice predesignated point, then he rolled out a blanket, a cd player with jazz music, a candle, incense, wine in vitamin water bottles, and makings for sandwiches.

A whole picnic! So sweet. Really, not in an over the top way. This was a genuinely creative effort that took time and planning on his part, which totally gets points! I mean, this guy lives and works in queens so he lugged ALL of this stuff out just for me. Who does that? Guys I like, that's who!

The conversation flowed smoothly; there were hardly any rough spots. And there was laughter. That is important.

Oh, and he is totally cute. Very key. I am definitely attracted to him.

We sat in the park and talked until after the lights came on, and eventually had to leave when the mosquitoes got ravenous. At this point we packed up and started to head out of the park.

Then he had to excuse himself to go throw up.

Seems the guy has been sick for a couple of days, but didn't want to cancel the date and toughed it out. Now he is horrified that on a first date he puked in central park. I am way more touched that he risked this exact scenario just to come meet me than concerned with his actually being sick. For gods sake every time I have to go to the hospital one of the symptoms is nonstop vomiting. And friends puking after drinking? Happens aplenty in my presence.

But I fear that no matter how smoothly the date went his embarrassment might nip this whole thing in the bud. How tragic is that? I gave him my number as we separated, and I am going to email him to say thank you for such a nice time, but what are the odds he is out at this point?

Ah well, at least I followed through on a first date. The year of dating continues!!!

mother pucker

Just getting some good footing at the new job. Feeling good about grasping everything going on.

Oops, one of my direct reports gave her three week notice yesterday.

Drat.

That only means I'll learn more more quickly than anticipated - what I can from her before she goes and WAY WAY more after she does. See nothing teaches you better than training a new person how to do something. You learn something yourself every time.

You hate me and my bright side disease, don't you?

half recovery

Okay, I won't keep you in suspense - yesterday Spaghetti and I totally rocked the half! We made my goal of 2:15 (well, technically I was 2:15:51 but I'm rounding down dammit) and didn't pass out or die or anything! No injuries either, that is key.

Overall the race was pretty good. Temperature a cool but humid 67 degrees, it was nice and overcast so as to not add to the heat, and a bit of a rainstorm came down from mile six through eight which was rather refreshing - save my desperate attempt to hide my ipod down my pants as I did not have the waterproof ipod armband with me. Even though I had bike shorts on they were not tight enough to keep the ipod at my waist so it kept sliding down. Quite awkward, really. Three miles of me pulling, tugging, and holding onto a bulge in my pants. Lesson learned.

For me the park was cake. I have been training all my long runs there, so I felt really powerful on the hills. But once we got to the straightaway I lost it! In looking towards the race I was sure that this would be the easiest part, no hills and a slight downward elevation. Yet I just lost my power and kept getting slower. So now as I continue on my marathon training bit I need to figure out if my last leg power loss came from any of the following:

Not running enough distance the week before (I had dropped down to 10 miles from 13 miles the previous week)

Hydration issues

Food consumption the day before

Tempo running on straightaways

Pacing issues - going out too fast and burning out early

Good thing I have two more months to figure these out, eh?

On the kooky side, it took me an extraordinarily long time to recover from the race. Post race I showered and hung at Spaghetti's place with her, La La La and Marathon Man. (Marathon Man was like the 350th finisher out of 12,000 and a 6:20 pace. Oh. My. God.) After a little pasta salad I headed home, putzed around and went to bed.

At 5:00 pm.

I woke up for a bit from 10:30 to 11:30, but otherwise slept until 7:30 this morning. At which point I still was pretty darn tired. Is that normal? Should I really be that exhausted from a long race? Normally I nap after my long runs, but I haven't really tracked the cumulative time.

As a test I am going to start juicing again, I haven't been and I'm wondering if maybe the boost of natural vitamins will do the trick. Must outsmart my body as it hates me, I can do it!