More Random Thoughts - because Kado wanted me to post and I don't have time to actually write something decent.

Why is it that I can remember a day in my life over 26 years ago, when I was four years old and my parents brought home a jar of marshmellow Fluff, sang a song about a Fluffernutter sandwich, which went like this:
Oh you put Fluff, Fluff, Fluff upon a Fluffernutter,
With lots and lots and lots and lots of creamy peanut butter!
and then proceeded to make me a Fluffernutter sandwich which I proceeded to eat and then soon thereafter vomited all over the kitchen floor (which had incorrectly installed yellow patterned linoleum, resulting in a seam in the pattern right across the middle of the room) of our apartment - yet I can't even remember what I had for lunch on Friday?

That may have been the longest run on sentence ever.

***

I got a phone call at work today from a woman in Australia. She had the most beautiful accent I have ever heard, which made me immediately self-conscious about my supposed "Connecticut accent". Even the names she gave me "Philip and Vivian" sounded so much lovelier than when I repeated them back to her.... I wonder if she commented about my accent when she hung up the phone?

***

Tip of the Day: Opaque black tights are not a substitute for real pants. I don't care if you are wearing a longish (but not long enough to be a dress) sweater and furry Uggs, put on some damn clothes. Here is a helpful hint, for when you just can't tell which items in your dresser are pants and which are underwear: Jeans, slacks, cords, even sweatpants = pants. Footed stretchy nylon leggings that are sold in cardboard eggs = underwear. Thank you.

***

I was just browsing on eBay and found a listing for Old Navy size 6 jeans. The subtitle of the listing is "perfect for a plus size teen". Really?? Size 6 is now considered "plus size"? I don't have much else to say about that except WTF?!? (I'm sure Ill think of something better to say later.)

***
I am a total Christmas dork. I have already run a mental inventory of our Christmas decorations. Today I went to Target for toothpaste and spent a half-hour oohing and ahhing over silver mirrored cone trees and twenty seven different kinds of garland. And I may or may not have already started to listen to Christmas music too, and you know what, I'm not ashamed to admit it!

Random thoughts of a half-assed blogger

I should be working right now, but if I actually spent all of the time I should be working actually doing work then I would never do anything but work. Know what I mean?

...

So, when I last posted on here it was a letter to my beloved Red Sox that I wrote the day before I attended game five of the ALCS in Boston. Of course, they won that game in historic fashion and it was seriously one of the coolest nights of my life. Of course, they blew it in game seven but I have to admit that a teeny-tiny part of me is almost sort of glad because I was honestly considering buying World Series tickets if they won - even if it meant taking out another mortgage. That would not be a very wise economic decision, so I'll just save my pennies and cross my fingers for next year.

...

My husband, who I love dearly, is downstairs right now sipping on a martini and talking back to the television. I just thought you should know that.

...

Today is my God-daughter Anna's SIXTH birthday, which is yet another reason for me to feel old. It seems like just yesterday that we were frantically trying to finish painting the border in her nursery before she came home from the hospital. My arms still hurt from that. Happy Birthday, Anna Banana!

...

I hope that the voters made the right decision yesterday.... I don't usually like to talk about my political beliefs, but I can't help but be hopeful that this change will bring about the turnaround that this country so desperately needs.

...

I really like rice and beans and diced tomatoes. Really.

...

I saw three fender-benders on the way home from work this evening, and it was barely sprinkling out. Pay attention when you drive, people!

...

I made two small tacos for my lunch today using tomatoes, avocado and cheese (delicious) but I dropped one on my shoe so I ended up with one small taco for lunch and one messy shoe.

...

I'm going to try harder to update this blog on a regular basis. I have a lot to say, just no time to say it!

...

My sister has a blog now too, and I think it's better than mine. Go check it out!

Dear Boston Red Sox,

Dear Boston Red Sox,

I have been a fan of yours for most of my life. I don’t remember exactly how or when I became a fan, but I know it was sometime in my early childhood. I don’t really know why I became a fan, especially since my parents are Yankees fans…I guess it was my own form of childhood rebellion. I think my parents were lucky. Anyway, I do know this much… I am a Red Sox fan. When I was in the third grade there was this annoying fourth-grader who insisted that the Mets would beat the Sox in the 1986 World Series. I took great offense to this statement and proceeded to start an argument with her which developed into a shoving match which developed to playground chants of “Red-Sox-Stink! Me-ets-Stink!” which developed into us all having to stand against the wall for the remainder of recess. Ok, so the girl was right, but to this day if you listen closely you can still hear the chants of “Me-ets Stink” resonating faintly over the playing fields at E. Green Elementary School.

So the years have gone by and I have remained a fan. Like many other young fans I learned to live with the requisite pain and heartache that comes with rooting for the Sox. Then I grew up and married a man who may quite possibly be an even bigger fan than I am. Together we live as part of a Nation that coordinates our after-work clothing according to who is pitching, and who thinks that a week’s salary is a perfectly reasonable price to pay for a Papelbon-signed game ball. We try to weave words like “wicked” into our daily vernacular and we think that “Sweet Caroline” is the most beautiful song ever written. We fans from outside of Boston are willing drive a six-hour round trip to see a three hour game from a tiny seat that may or may not even face home plate. We make commercials about giving our first born children to see the Sox win the World Series and then worry that someone we know might actually do so if it happens! We’ve taught the younger generation that “Yankees” is a bad word and we may or may not have caused one certain three year old boy to tell everyone he sees that “Yankees go to baby school!” (His words, not ours…)

While Sox fans are no stranger to heartache, over time the heartache has turned into hope and the hope has turned into great expectations for our team. Of course the pinnacle for any Sox fan born after 1918 came in 2004, but the joy was no less diminished the second time around in 2007. Now we’re spoiled and we expect greatness from our team. We know you don’t like to make it easy for us. You like to fall behind three games to one. You like to keep us up until all hours of the night to go into extra innings, so that we go to work all bleary-eyed and cranky the following morning. You like to make us turn off the TV in disgust only to sneak back a couple of minutes later to check on the score. But enough is enough. The last three games have been pathetic. We’ve become spoiled and we expect more of our beloved team!

I guess the point of my letter is to tell you that I’ve had the incredibly good fortune to obtain tickets for tomorrow’s game five against the Rays. So tomorrow, me, Picky, my sister and her friend (another die-hard fan) will drive six hours round trip to sit in tiny seats that probably don’t face home plate. We’ll wear personalized jerseys (away jerseys – you don’t put names on home jerseys) under our winter coats and hats because the forecast calls for it to be showery and cold. We’ll brave the T with the other crazy fans and we’ll eat a day’s salary worth of Fenway Franks. And if you dare to lose (again) and allow TAMPA BAY to clinch the ALCS in our presence I will be pissed – WICKED PISSED! Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,
Dames

10/10 - A Very Important Day

I just wanted to take a break from the work, work and more work that has been my life lately to recognize some very important things that take place on October 10th:

For example, did you know that today is Mario Lopez's birthday? He is 35 years old today! Thank you, Mario for filling our early-90's mornings with your mullety-goodness on Saved by the Bell.

Happy Birthday Mario Lopez!

It's also Dale Earnhardt Jr.'s Birthday. In honor of his birthday, you can get super-classy Dale Earnhardt Jr. pewter salt and pepper shakers on sale online for only $18.99! Don't need salt and pepper shakers? You can also get a Dale Earnhardt Jr. ottoman, satellite dish cover, juice box holder, North Carolina state sign, and even a premium dog jersey, all on sale today!

This dog is seriously protesting the indignity of this picture.

Happy Birthday Dale Earnhardt, Jr.!

Did you know that today is also National Cake Decorating Day? In honor of this special day, please visit this hilarious website... but not before you finish reading this post! I mean it! Do not click on that link yet! I promise this post is going somewhere, just be patient...

Hmmmm, what else, what else? Well, the game Twister was introduced 42 years ago today. Also, it is the 10th day of National Squirrel Awareness month. But I know there is something else....


Oh yeah.

Happy 30th Birthday to the best husband evah. Trust me, 30 doesn't feel any different than 29, once you get over the ridiculous notion that your age starts with a "3".

(Yeah, I know this picture is tiny... sorry.)

I know, you have been accused of being five years old. Please don't ever change that. I would be sad if you ever "grew up" and stopped having fun in life. Its one of your greatest features!

I love you.

Love,
Dames


P.S. If you break any bones playing soccer tonight and you can't help me set up for your party tomorrow you are in biiig trouble. Got it?

Cats Rule!

Why do dogs get all the credit when it comes to protecting their owners? Sure, they may scare away intruders with their intimidating barks and pointy teeth, but really, what else do they do besides slobber, beg for food and look cute?

In my opinion, cats do way more when it comes to protecting their owners from the real dangers of everyday life - dangers such as catnip-filled mice and those plastic rings that come from milk jug caps. Have a problem with those pesky dangling mini-blind cords? Don't worry, your cat has it covered. Not entirely convinced that the lump under your blankets is really just your own feet? Your cat is there and ready to pounce at the slightest movement.

My own two cats are constantly on the prowl to protect Picky and I from all sorts of dangers that are lurking in our home. Dangers such as rogue plastic drinking straws, the carpet runner on our stairway and anything that moves or makes a sound at 5:45 in the morning are no match for our cats.

Another danger that is often overlooked in the modern home is the printer. You never know when a piece of paper will shoot out of the printer causing all sorts of havoc. Thankfully, this cat has it all under control:

(It's only about a minute long and the best part is at the end so be patient.)

Cat vs Printer @ Yahoo! Video

(I kid about dogs of course. I would love to get a black lab someday. I would name him Ed.)

Dames-A-Pedia, answering your most random questions - Volume II

Dames-A-Pedia, answering your most random questions - Volume II

In case you are wondering what the heck a Dames-a-Pedia is, or have a burning need for semi-useless information about penny farthings, please click here for Volume I.

Volume II

Question: What is Macramé?

Answer: Macrame is a form of textile making using knotting rather than weaving or knitting.
It reached its peak of popularity in the 1970’s and was apparently, very useful for making hanging plant holders and owl wall decorations.

Until I actually looked it up, I’d always confused macramé with God’s Eyes, otherwise known as the crafts we made over and over and over again in first grade.

I swear, my elementary school school must have gotten a really great deal on yarn and popsicle sticks, because I think we made these things every single week. Sometimes, for a “treat” we would be able to go outside and pick out actual twigs (from nature, as our teacher used to say) to use for our projects, although I have a sneaking suspicion that the teacher just needed to go outside and have a smoke. I used to prefer to make mine out of alternating threads of blue and white yarn, but for some reason the white yarn was always at a premium and I always had to fight Natalie M. for the white yarn. That girl never liked me anyway, not since I got elected class president in the first grade and she had to settle for the vice presidency.

Anyway… Macramé…. The art of knotting rope to make hanging plant holders. Lots and lots of hanging plant holders. With the occasional owl wall decoration thrown in.

Next week: Dames-A-Pedia volume III - Random Food Edition!

Beauty

The other night we closed the windows of our house and I actually wore socks to bed. Snowflake socks. The days are still warm but we’ve been greeted with a fine layer of frost on our windshields on more than one occasion in the past week. The sunsets are coming earlier and the night air has lost its heavy stillness. The leaves on some of the more overanxious trees are already starting to change. It seems, sadly, that yet another summer has slipped through our fingers. My pleas for a couple more weeks (We never made it to Boston! We never had a chance to camp at the beach! There are more games of beer pong to be played at Alison’s lake house! ) seem to have fallen on Mother Nature’s deaf ears. Soon, sightseers from all over will descend upon our highways and scenic routes to view the beauty of the changing leaves. Yeah, I’ll admit that the changing leaves are beautiful (if not a bit dated… gold, orange and red? The seventies called and they want their color scheme back…) and raking the crackling fallen leaves on a brisk Saturday afternoon is marginally more fun than weeding flower beds in 90-degree heat. But for all of the beauty that comes with Fall, I can’t help but let my pessimistic side remind me that once the crisp refreshment of October is lost in the grey filter of November* those bare tree branches mean that it will be months until we feel the warmth of the Summer sun again. It will be months until we see live, green grass (or any grass at all) and months until we dare venture outside without multiple layers of heavy clothes. Winter is not my favorite season.

While I’m all for enjoying the beauty of Fall, I much prefer the beauty of Spring. I prefer the pastels of the first spring blooms, the giddiness of a balmy afternoon and the optimism that comes when the landscape changes from brown to back to green.

I recently found these pictures that I took at Churchill Park in May on my hard drive. As you will see, I am a terrible photographer. Seriously, I should not even be allowed to operate a camera. I’m not going to pretend that these pictures are any good from a photography standpoint, but I think they accurately convey the beauty, the promise that comes with Spring.
Can anyone tell me what these cute little flowers are? They are about the size of my thumbnail and grow in clusters. I would love to have these all over my yard.

Not that you can tell by this picture, but the sky way really blue that day. I couldn't find the "really blue sky" setting on the camera, so this is the best I can do.

Look! It's an artsy, angled closeup of the tall grass! Never mind that I took this picture by accident when I was leaning over to tie my shoe!

*Don’t EVEN get me started on the month of November… that’s another blog post for another day.

Hi Mom, Hi Dad!

Sooo, I guess my parents read this blog. That's great! Sorry about the swearing, mom and dad. I'm a thirty-year old married woman, yet I still can't bring myself to swear in front of my parents... I have had a particular fondness for the "A" word lately, but I blame that on my younger sister! :)

Also, your anniversary cake is coming soon. :)

Love,
Dames

Dames-a-Pedia: Answering your most random questions - Volume I

My sister works in an office where they don’t allow internet for personal use. (The horror!) She often finishes her work by 11:00am, which leaves her approximately oh, too many hours per day to be bored out of her skull. So, she and her office mates must find other ways to pass the time, such as building cubicles out of cardboard boxes and decorating them with impressive fake diplomas and stick-figure family portraits.

They also have random, random conversations. And from these conversations come random, random questions - very important questions that require immediate answers. Of course, it’s impossible to get the answers to these important, random questions without internet access. That’s where I come in. I do have internet access at work, and I’m not afraid to use it! Hardly a day goes by in which I don’t get a text or phone call from my sister demanding the answer to an important, random question. Sometimes I know the answers without looking them up, but more often I just Google the question and see what pops up. I’m sure if my employer ever looked at my Google search history they would be a little bit concerned about my mental health…

Recently, my husband suggested that I post some of the questions and answers on this blog, so here it is… I shall call it Dames-a-pedia!

I’ll probably post one or two entries at a time. Have a question? Just ask! Random questions only, please. I guarantee that the results will be accurate passable not pulled from my ass. Occasionally my husband will contribute as well, with answers to burning questions such as “What is Chef Boyardee’s first name?” (answer: Hector, of course!)

Dames-a-pedia Volume I: Penny Farthing

Question: What are those old bicycles with the big-ass front wheel called?

Answer: Penny farthings! Penny farthings were popular in the Victorian era among wealthy folk who liked to ride them to the mercantile or to church socials and who apparently had little regard for any of the bones in their bodies. The name "penny farthing" is a reference to British penny and farthing coins of the time; the side view of the bicycle resembled the coins placed next to one another. The first penny farthings were produced in 1870, however no one could figure out how to actually get on one of the damn things until about 1879. Eventually ladies got into the penny farthing craze, wearing sporty outfits specifically designed for exercise:

Note how this woman’s wrists are almost showing… scandalous!

The penny farthing fad was rather short-lived, however, and died out quickly when people realized that it was far less painful to fall from a bicycle in which the front wheel was the same size as the back wheel.

On a more ridiculous note:

Yeah.

Dear Tropical Storm Hanna: I want my Saturday back!

I know I shouldn't complain about this storm. It sucks, but it could be so much worse! But we had outdoor plans all day today, and there aren't many Saturdays left before the dreaded winter begins. It is raining buckets and we are stuck inside with the windows closed against the wind and rain. It's like a steam bath outside and its about 110 degrees in here. Pleasant.

Our satellite went out hours ago and I was BORED. So bored that I decided to tackle some projects around the house. Very, very important projects.

Ever since RT saw the movie Juno he has been on this kick where he wears a wristband when he runs (like Paulie Bleeker), so we have several terrycloth wristbands lying around the house. Problem is they are small, and like hair elastics, scissors , and Hershey's Bars you can never find one when you need one. So, I took it upon myself to invent a solution to this very pressing problem:


(Disclaimer: This blog is in not endorsed by Puma... or anyone else for that matter.)

My solution: Velcro and clothes pins, stuck to the inside of the closet door. The whole thing cost about $1.50, so it is both classy and economical. Move over Martha! With an awesome wristband storage system like that, who cares if the rest of the closet looks like this:


(Good lord, my cell phone camera is pathetic! Someone please send a real camera!)

I suppose I could actually clean out the closet, but I think I'll bake some cookies. Or better yet, eat some raw cookie dough and call it a day. Priorities, people, priorities!

Scenes from a classy restaurant

The following are actual conversations I overheard while in line at the classiest restaurant ever, and possible location for Mike and Alison's rehearsal dinner: Arby's.

There were two young brothers in line with with their parents in front of me. One was about eight, the other about six. The older brother was asking the younger one where various food items come from. Here are parts of their actual conversation:

Older Brother: Where does ham come from?

Younger Brother: Chicken!

Older Brother: Where does ketchup come from?

Younger Brother: Plants! (I'll give him partial credit for that one)

Older Brother: Where does bread come from?

Younger Brother: Oh, I know... Cows - the booby part!

HAHAHAHAHA! It took a lot for me not to bust out laughing. So maybe the kids weren't the brightest bulbs, but I have a feeling that it isn't their fault. While the kids were debating where chicken nuggets come from, their mother was placing their order at the counter:

Mother: I'll have a Bacon Beef & Cheddar with American cheese.

Cashier: Um, the Bacon Beef & Cheddar comes with cheddar cheese.

Mother: But I only like American cheese.

Cashier: We don't have American cheese here.

Mother: (disgusted sigh) You don't have any American cheese at all?

Cashier: No, only cheddar.

Mother: (after a long pause) FINE! Forget it. Give me an order of mozzarella sticks.

I'm surprised she didn't order the mozzarella sticks made with American cheese.

My Brain = Mush

Ugh, I have been such a blog slacker, but its not on purpose, I swear!

In the last two weeks, three of the eight people in my office decided to take their vacations all at once, leaving me to deal with way more BS than usual. In fact, the level of BS I have dealt with at work has far exceeded my threshold of how much BS I can take without (A) drinking or (B) punching someone in the face - yet miraculously I've only had a couple of sips of a chocolate martini and everyone in my office still has all of their facial bones in tact (for now). In addition, our database software, which contains oh, only all of the company’s operating data, decided to kick the bucket on the exact day that our entire database/IT department (all two of them) left for vacation. So I was left to deal with the disaster on my own, which was so much fun considering that I am neither a database person nor an IT person. It was great. I love my job.

I've also been insanely busy with my other job, otherwise known as the job in which I deal with The Most Aggravating People on the Planet, but I don't even have the heart to get into that right now. So, basically, my mind has turned to mush and I can barely put together a coherent sentence right now (as you can probably tell). I actually have a couple of posts in the works that I'll try to get up as soon as things get back to normal,* and I'll try to be a better blogger from now on. Thanks for your patience!

*"Normal" being a relative word, of course. As in, I only want to hurl my computer out of the window twice a day as opposed to the four to five times a day I do now.

Congratulations...

...To Mike and Alison!
Happy Engagement! Alison, we knew you were the right girl for Mike when you willingly agreed to make real snowmen in some strangers' front yard while they were on vacation - in the middle of September, in seventy-five degree weather. If that weren't impressive enough, you then endured hours upon hours of (Rock)band practice under the severe regime of the Band Nazi, and were no worse for the wear. You are a good sport!

A bit of advice to the bride and groom: Don't feel like you have to listen to any one's advice if you don't want to. It's your wedding, just do whatever floats your boat. And Mike, by the words "your wedding" I mean "Alison's wedding" of course, so just do whatever she wants! I can't wait 'til your wedding!

...To Michael Phelps!

Congratulations on wining your eleventy-seventh gold medal and making Olympic history, an amazing accomplishment at the age of 23! And I mean that with absolute sincerity. It's unfortunate, though, that your countless hours of intense training never included lessons on how to keep your tongue in your mouth. I guess the US Olympic swim team coaches can't cover everything....

JHabs, these are for you!

Helpful hint: Don't Google "Michael Phelps with his tongue sticking out" when you are at work. Or ever.

OK, this has to be an old picture, or else he has the fastest growing facial hair ever. I could just imagine NBC breaking in to their coverage of " 'Gymnastics', or whatever the hell they call that other sport that doesn't involve Michael Phelps" with breaking news: MICHAEL PHELPS FORGOT TO SHAVE TODAY! MICHAEL PHELPS FORGOT TO SHAVE TODAY! Here is Bob Costas with a live report! Also, his tongue is sticking out in this picture.

Nice action shot. So his tongue is not technically sticking out on this one, but you know it was on its way... Also, his goggles are creeping me out!

This is definitely NOT Michael Phelps. You can tell because there is no tongue sticking out of his mouth. Believe it or not, there are other men on the US Olympic swim team, including this fine young man named Ryan Lotche. I think I will make him my Olympics boyfriend, but I may have to fight off JHabs for him!

Sorry, Ricky.

$9.12

So, last week one of our venues/sales partners called because they were having trouble reconciling the commissions that our company has paid them over the last year. There were some things in the contract that were not too clear, and the director of the venue (whom I shall call Crazy Whacknut or CW for short) seemed to think we owed them more commissions than we had already paid. Because I had 72 better things to do nothing better to, my boss sent me to meet with CW to deal with it.

This is pretty much how the conversation went:

CW: You owe us this. Me: No, we owe you that.
CW: You pay 6%. Me: no we pay 5%.
CW: My records indicate... Me: Well, MY records indicate...
CW: Klq8cdhbaba. Me: Prhy74g!(*&Hhgjunnok/.
CW: Oh no she di'nt. Me: Oh yes she DID!

I must have missed legal contract decoding day at law school, because it was really difficult to determine what we actually owed. Oh wait, I didn't go to law school, so what the hell was I doing trying to figure this out? Anyway, after several hours we came to the agreement that we owed the vendor an additional $9.00 in commission, or about .00003% of the $3,000,000 sales for the year. Really. I'm not kidding.

Feeling half irritated that I had just wasted three hours of my life over $9.00 and half smug that we didn't owe them more, I went back to the office and asked accounting to cut a check for the $9.00. Then I emailed CW to confirm the payment and I sent her all of the backup information and calculations just to be safe.

The next day I got a reply from CW. Basically, it said that our numbers still didn't match exactly for the year, and because she is a "Type-A Personality" she wanted to let me know that the exact amount we owed was not $9.00, but $9.12.

$9.12

$9.12 ?!?

$9 EFFING .12??

Hmmm, I never knew that the "A" in "Type-A Personality" stood for "Asshat". I never gave CW the satisfaction of a reply. Instead, I found out from accounting that they had cut the original check for $9.00 but hadn't mailed it yet, so I took a dime and two pennies from my own purse and gave it to the accountant, who taped them to the check.

My employer can pay me back later.


(Note: I totally stole the word "Asshat" from this awesome blog...)

An Open Letter to US Airways Customer Service

Dear US Airways,

I have a couple of small requests that may help improve your customer service.

First of all, when sticking travelers on a small-ass plane so tiny that these passengers have to sit evenly across the plane to ensure that the plane will remain airborne, please do not have your flight attendant come over the microphone and ask for volunteers to move from the front of the plane to the back of the plane to "balance the wings of the aircraft". Doing so may cause certain typically non-nervous fliers to feel a tiny bit uncomfortable with being stuck inside a small-ass wing-unbalanced airplane for two hours. If the fate of the aircraft is resting on the willingness of two old men in Hawaiian shirts to move from row 2 to row 11 so as to "balance the wings" may I suggest that you use a BIGGER AIRPLANE. If this is not possible, please remember that sometimes ignorance really is bliss. Passengers don't need to know about wing imbalances, engine problems, de-icing or that the landing gear is being held together by duct tape. A better approach would be for the flight attendant to say: "The first two passengers in row 2 to move back to row 11 will win a super cool prize!" and then give the winners a super cool prize, preferably an item from the "Sky Mall" catalogue. This makes a fun game out of it and no one needs to know that the plane will fly all willy-nilly if the people don't move their seats.

Also, in the event that a certain customer whose first name rhymes with "picky" and whose last name starts with a "T" inadvertently leaves his driver's license on the airplane after arriving for a layover in Philadelphia, please do not wait until said traveler and his wife are at the opposite end of the terminal, which is about 5.6 miles from the gate, before making the announcement over the loud speaker. And, once the customer his wife arrive back at the gate after sprinting the entire 5.6 miles to retrieve the lost license, it is helpful to actually have an employee working at the gate, not huddled in the corner reading a novel and ignoring the customers at the gate. And, if the employee is too absorbed in his novel to even look up when asked for help and tells the customer that his license is "somewhere on the desk" it would be helpful if the license were actually somewhere on the desk. And if the customer should have the nerve to interrupt the employee again to tell him that the license is not on the desk, it would be helpful if the employee didn't roll his eyes and say "it's the small plastic thing with your picture on it" in a sarcastic tone before finally getting up and realizing that the lost license was not, in fact, on the desk, but in a drawer. Call me crazy, but I am fairly certain that the TSA frowns upon random customers rifling through the desks and drawers at the terminal gates to retrieve lost items. They may consider this to be a possible breach of security, thereby making the customer's trip even less pleasant.

Thank you for your time. I hope you find these suggestions helpful.
Dames
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
More fun adventures from our trip to Nashville coming soon! I bet y'all can't wait!

This post is about rice cakes. Run! Run away while you still can.

I have an announcement to make. I love the Stew Leonard's rice cakes. I don't know why. I am not really a rice cake eater, but there is just something in that light and crispy texture makes these so addicting. There may not be much there in the taste department (come on, they're rice cakes after all) but they are sooo crispy and satisfying. And although each one is only a little bit smaller than a dinner plate, they still only have 17 calories each, which is a good thing because I devour them morning, noon and night. Did I mention I love them? I may need to get a grip.


Yeah, I actually Googled "pictures of Stew Leonard's rice cakes" and this is what I got, one picture, which is approximately one picture more than I thought I would get.

Of course, I've found plenty of ways to obliterate their low -calorie count. I've tried them topped with fresh fruit and whipped cream, dipped in yogurt, spread with spinach dip, and once, in a holy-crap-its-midnight-and-I-still-have-hours-worth-of-work-to-do moment of weakness, I dipped them in Hershey's syrup while standing in front of the open fridge. Don't judge me.

So, at work yesterday I had a craving for something sweet, but had nothing to snack on other than some of my trusty rice cakes. Suddenly, I had an epiphany: cinnamon-sugar rice cakes! Happy day! Sadly, I soon found that our office cupboard contained only the following items: hand wipes, a thousand packets of Sweet & Low, hot sauce, a first aid kit, an empty Kashi cereal box, a petrified english muffin and tube of toothpaste. (Yes, this is a corporate office for a restaurant!) No cinnamon or real sugar to be found, so, begrudgingly, I ate the rice cakes dipped in toothpaste.

Ok, not really, I ate them plain and they were still damn good, for rice cakes.

Thank you for reading an entire post about rice cakes. You may now resume with your normal lives.

Sincerely,
Dames

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. (and this has nothing to do with rice cakes, thank God) -

Rest in peace Estelle Getty! Thank you for being a friend.

Little Jen - you didn't happen to inquire about her recently, did you?

My iPod is a Genius!

I don't normally spend the time to fill out all of those annoying Myspace survey thingies that come my way, but I thought this one was kinda cool. Basically what you do is set your iPod (or Zune or generic mp3 player, we don't discriminate here) to shuffle and answer the following questions by scrolling through the songs. Each new song that pops up is the answer to the question. NO CHEATING by scrolling past songs that don't work for the question.

I did it and I have so say the results surprisingly funny, and some of them were right on. I guess my iPod is a genius!

Here are the results of my survey...

1) How am I feeling today?
Only Wanna Be With You - Hootie & the Blowfish

2) How will I feel getting married?
Well, I'm already married, but the answer is Marshall Mathers - Eminem (hmmmm?)

3) What is my best friend's theme song?
Lord Have Mercy on My Soul - Black Oak Arkansas. (hahaha)

4) High school is...
My Generation - Limp Bizkit (well, almost)

5) I am...
At This Point in My Life - Tracey Chapman (how redundant... Thanks iPod!)

6) How is today?
Getting Better - Beatles (It will get better once I finish at the Dentist!)

7) What is in store for this week?
Shiny Happy People - REM (oh, goody, showers!)

8) What song best describes my parents?
Bubble Toes - Jack Johnson (um, gross, no.)

9) How is my life going?
Gangsta Shit - Snoop Dog with Loon (hahahaha again!)

10) What song will they play at my funeral?
No Woman No Cry - Bob Marly & The Wailers (thanks alot!)

12) My friends think...
Africa Bamba - Santana (ok then)

13) My life is lived...
Tangled - Maroon 5

14) This makes me happy...
Waterfalls - TLC (I could write a whole blog about this song, and why it is in my iPod)

15) What should I do with my life?
Fast Car - Tracy Chapman(wait, this isn't Ricky's iPod, is it?)

16) I'll be happy when...
Why Georgia - John Mayer (Actually, I will be happy when this song is deleted from my playlist because I HATE it)

17) What is some good advice?
Not Fair - Shaggy

18) What do I think my current theme song is?
Perfect Blue Buildings - Counting Crows (like my house? Haha, NOT)

19) What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
Jump Jive An'Wail - The Brian Setzer Orchestra

20) The type of men/women I like are...
You Oughta Know - Alanis Morisette (Touche, iPod, touche!)

21) How will you feel on your wedding day?
Again, I am already married, but: Killing Me Softly - The Fugees (boooo!)

22) What should I do with my love life?
Let it Be - Nick Cave (Now I am getting scared)

23) What will your neighborhood be like?
Animal - Pearl Jam (Like all of the animals in my backyard?)

24) What will your dying words be?
Cannonball - Damien Rice (apparently I will die during the Revolutionary War)

Leave Love

****EDIT - 1:27pm on Tuesday, July 15****
I guess only my pie-liking sister reads this blog, but that's ok! Like I said, I write it for my own amusement, so I really don't care. I have to ask, though, if I am writing and no one is reading, does that mean that I am talking to myself? :)

-Dames


You know what annoys me? People who intentionally solicit comments on their Myspace pages or blogs. You know the type, the people who post a bulletin on Myspace that they have new pictures and then ask their friends to comment or "leave love". It's fine to inform your friends that you've posted 63 new pictures of your drunken night at the bar, but to actually ask people to leave comments about how awesomely hot you look in the 63 pictures of your drunken night of the bar is, well, kinda pathetic. The same goes for blogs. I've actually stopped reading two different blogs because the authors got all snippy when not enough people commented on the author's crappy day at work or how *adorable* their children look in their school pictures.

This blog is a way for me to write down the random thoughts and stories that are tumbling around in my head at any given time. It also gives me something to do while I'm at work during my free time. I don't write for the comments because, frankly, I think I would be disappointed if I did. Plus, I doubt that anything I write actually merits any sort of comment or debate. I am doing this for fun. If you enjoy my stories - welcome! Pull up a chair, grab a snack and check back every now and then for updates. If you think my stories suck well then you can just go pound sand!

With all that being said, I am curious to know whether anyone actually reads this blog (other than a few friends who have mentioned that they read it) or whether I am writing into some barren void of the bloggersphere. (Wow, that was a dorky sentence, wasn't it?) So, just this once, I am asking anyone who reads this post to leave a quick comment. Your comment can be about whatever you want, whether it be "Hi Dames", "this blog sucks" or "I like pie". You can comment anonymously or leave your name, we're all friends here so it doesn't matter either way. After that, feel free to go back into lurkerdom if you wish, because I promise I will never solicit anyone to "leave love" again.

Thanks,
Dames

Inventory

This inventory was taken on Wednesday, July 2, 2008 at 7:30 pm.

Squirrels collecting acorns in the backyard: 2

Fat woodchucks eating grass in the backyard: 4

Adorable cottontail bunnies chillin in the backyard: 1

Incessantly noisy tree frogs making noise in the backyard: 1

Bored-sounding owls barely making an effort in the backyard: 1

Other assorted birds flying around the backyard: at least 10

Lazy-ass indoor cats curled up asleep in our bed who couldn't care less about the wildlife party going in the backyard: 2

Chances I will be able to grow a successful vegetable in the backyard this year: 0

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In other news, I accidentally flushed one of my socks down the toilet at the gym today. Before my workout.

Survey: If that happened to you would you -
a) proceed with your workout wearing only one sock
b) proceed with your workout wearing no socks
c) skip the workout, go home and eat ice cream

Your input is very important to me in the likely event that this will happen to me again sometime in the future.

Thanks,
Dames

I should have kept my big, stupid mouth shut - incident #7922

While my job generally annoys me anyway, one of my least favorite things to do is deal with customer service and problems when people place orders for gift cards through our website. The task really has nothing to do my job description, but it was given to me six years ago when I was the "new girl" and unfortunately, it stuck.

Customers who order gift cards online are given the option of choosing regular first-class mail shipping for free or expedited FedEx shipping for a charge. One time we received a very large order for 100 gift cards at $50.00 each, and the purchaser had specified regular first class mail shipping. Our office had been having some major problems with entire outgoing mail shipments being "lost" and I was not too trusting of the Post Office at that point. I didn't feel like dealing with deactivating and reissuing the cards if the shipment got lost in the mail, so I decided to be proactive (a word they love to use around here) and give the customer a call.

Now, in fairness to me (lest you think I am a total dumbass) the shipping address on the order page was to some business park but there was no actual business name on the order page. Also, the customer answered her phone by stating her name (not the business' name) when I called. Really, I had no idea what I was about to get myself into when I made the call:

Me: Hi, I am calling about your online order for 100 gift cards. I noticed that you specified regular mail shipping on the order, and I just wanted to ask if you'd like me to ship the cards to you via FedEx because I don't trust the Post Office to handle such a large order and I wouldn't want your order to get lost in the mail.

Customer: Um, this IS the U.S. Post Office.

*awkward silence*

Me: Well, then I guess I'll go ahead and send this to you via regular mail! (dies of embarrassment.)

And that is the story of how I managed to offend the U.S. Government. Go me!

Announcing the official sunglasses of team SOBER!

Team Not Sober thinks they are soooo cool with their "official" sunglasses:

President of Team Not Sober: The pose clearly makes the woman's sunglasses look less....womanly?





The VP of Team Not Sober is proof that wearing the official sunglasses will get you places in life.


The membership of Team SOBER, while small in numbers, realizes the importance of stylish eyewear. So without further ado, I present to you the official sunglasses of Team SOBER:

Stylish and practical, these glasses both protect your eyes from wild beer pong throws and allow you to go incognito at an insect party.

The sunglasses also distract from terrible hair days. And missing arms. Where the heck is my arm?!? I swear I just had it a few minutes ago!



But the sunglasses - sexy, no?

Eight years ago today*

*by “today” I really mean yesterday, June 16. I suck at getting things done on time.

Eight years ago today, you were 21 years old and I was 22 years old. We were just three weeks out of college. We had been told we were too young, but we knew better.

Eight years ago today we had just signed the lease on our first home together, a tiny, tiny apartment with exactly two windows and a cable box that had a tendency to overheat and explode.

Eight years ago today was a beautiful, warm, sunny June day perfect for a wedding.

Eight years ago today my bridesmaids and I got our hair done by a crazy lady who did a great job.

Eight years ago today I sent my future sister-in-law on a frantic chase to find a new ring bearer pillow after I spilled soda on the one I had spent so much time sewing myself.

Eight years ago today I had my first and only bridal meltdown when I refused to get out of the limo until all of the guests were seated. Sorry, Mr. Limo driver.

Eight years ago today my father walked me down the aisle and I vowed to love and cherish my husband forever, yet I only remember alternately concentrating on not fainting and not laughing. I hear we got through the ceremony just fine, though.

Eight years ago today my poor maid of honor decided to forgo pain medication after a car accident in favor of drinking at the reception – thus coining the popular phrase “whoooo got me another drink?!?”

Eight years ago today the bartender did not have to worry about covering his dinner break.

Eight years ago today my parents realized that they were very lucky that they had paid for an unlimited open bar rather than paying per drink.

Eight years ago today, a group of 150 of our closest friends, family and coworkers came together for one hell of a party that no one will ever forget.

Eight years ago today my two cousins executed a perfectly synchronized, unchoreographed turn on the dance floor that my sister and I still laugh about at random times.

Eight years ago today, without being asked, my thirteen year old twin cousins took it upon themselves to videotape the entire ceremony and reception, a gesture that has preserved some of the funniest and most unforgettable memories of our lives.

Eight years ago today I cried for the only time of the entire wedding when I danced with my dad.

Eight years ago today my new husband smooshed wedding cake into my face, although he will deny intent until the day he dies.

Eight years ago today my husband made a grand entranced onto the dance floor by sliding across the floor on his stomach, thus making us glad we were not the ones responsible for returning his rented tux.

Eight years ago today we had an unexpected guest in our wedding night suite.

Eight years ago today was long enough ago to look at the pictures and remark how young we all looked, but not too long ago that our outfits and hairstyles look ridiculous (yet).

Eight years ago today we had no idea what we were getting into, but we knew it would be good.

Eight years ago I married a man who I loved dearly then but love infinitely more today. We have grown up together and have learned the meaning of “through thick and thin”, but are still each others best friends and confidants. I’ve learned that no matter how busy, how stressed or how tired I may be I will always have the love and support of a great man, and there is no better feeling.

Eight years ago today I would not have changed a single thing, and I wouldn’t change a single thing today either.

Happy Anniversary, Ricky!

Love,
Dames

I'm going to look at this post in February and cry...

This picture was taken in my car as I pulled into my driveway on Tuesday. 102 degrees. In early June. I swear that just a year or two ago we got frost and a dusting of snow in June. I guess that might still happen, you never know with this crazy New England weather!

Call me crazy, but me and my pansy-ass thin Italian blood actually loves the heat(thanks mom). Judging from the general crankiness of everyone else around me I think I may be the only one. But what would you rather deal with, 100-degree weather or two feet of snow? Global warming...BRING IT ON! (just without the nasty environmental consequences).

I should have kept my big, stupid mouth shut – incident #4021

It’s a curse of my family (especially my sister and I) to witness awkward situations – almost on a daily basis. Sadly, I often bring these awkward situations upon myself simply by opening my mouth.

When I used to work for a jeweler one of my favorite things to do was to sell wedding bands. Most of the time, couples shopping for wedding bands are happy, cheerful and excited to be there(with some exceptions – but that’s a whole different blog post) and I enjoyed being a part of the couple’s excitement by helping them pick out their rings. One day, a pleasant middle aged couple came in to shop for wedding bands. As is the norm, the bride-to-be did most of the talking and browsing while her fiancé stayed in the background. I remember that she did not wear an engagement ring, so her choices were endless and she must have tried on dozens of rings before choosing a pretty platinum and diamond band. Once the bride-to-be had picked out her ring I turned my attention to the bride’s fiancé, who to this point had not said much other than “uh-huh” and “yup” in reply to her comments. The wedding bands were displayed in a low, L-shaped case, and probably 90% of the case was reserved for women’s rings while the men’s rings were kept in the short part of the “L”. Her fiancé moved towards the counter and started browsing through the rings on the women’s side of the case at which point I ever-so-helpfully gestured towards the men’s display and said “oh, the men’s rings are over on this side”

Have you ever said something, and as the words came out of your mouth you suddenly knew that what you were saying was very, very wrong? It’s like slow motion – yet you can’t close your mouth in time to stop the words from escaping. This was one of those times. As I spoke those very words I instantly knew: the fiancé was a WOMEN. Not a very feminine women (actually not a feminine woman at all – and she wasn’t exactly wearing a flowered dress either) but a women nonetheless. A woman that I had just called a man. To her face.

Honestly, I don’t even remember what happened next. I think that my mind has blocked out the event from that point forward to spare me years of hiding under my desk and sucking my thumb in mortification whenever I revisit the incident. I would like to think that I handled it with grace and humor, but I highly doubt that was the case. More likely, I probably babbled something ridiculous about staying away from the men’s rings that I had just pointed out because you are obviously a woman who wants a woman’s ring and I would not want to waste your time by showing a man’s ring to a woman. Then I probably cried and ran away. Yup, that is probably how I handled it.

To the couple: I hope you two are happy together and I’m very sorry I called one of you a man. I also hope you like your rings – wherever you ended up buying them.

Look at me! I'm so important that I have my own blog!

Um, not really. Actually, I thought it might be a good idea to start my own blog because at any given time I have 27 different things swimming around in my head that I'd like to write about - things that piss me off, things that make me nostalgic, things that (probably only I) find funny, awkward situations, stupid work and bad cat names. Actually, I mostly think about bad cat names. Like Christine and Michael. Except, now that I just spent an hour setting it up and making it look all pretty I can't think of a single thing to write about. So basically this post is about absolutely nothing. Sorry this blog is lame already; I'll try to make it better.