This post is held together losely by hygiene

Today I finally worked up the nerve to tell the girl from 2 offices over that her hygiene practices were not okay.  I realize this is a touchy subject and I would have been happy to leave the issue unspoken, however my throat was getting scratchy from the vom each time I witnessed this. 
You see, this girl and I cross paths in the bathroom on a daily basis, sometimes multiple times a day.  And the small two stall bathroom affords us the misfortune of knowing exactly who is in the bathroom and whether or not washing of hands occurs.  Typically, I could really care less if you don't want to wash your hands after you go to the bathroom.  I will pass silent judgment on you, but it is your prerogative.  Except in this instance where to exit the bathroom I must pull the door handle.  Not to mention we just paid a small fortune to install hand dryers to help with our green initiative, so we are all trying to not use the paper hand towels.  But after seeing this girl use the restroom, check her hair in the mirror and exit the bathroom by grasping the door handle with her unwashed hands over and over, I have had to resort to using at least one towel to pull the door open and exit.  And then I have a trash can full of towels in my office at the end of the day. 
I am really grossed out by this. 
And then she totally crapped on my hygienic high ground today. 
I walked into the bathroom after lunch and she was washing her hands.  I even saw her use soap.
As I shut the stall door, I was suddenly overcome with relief that I didn't have to be that asshole who publicly brings up the fact that she is plain gross.
And then, after washing her hands, she dried them in the air dryer.  And then?  She entered the other stall, relieved herself, left the stall, checked her hair in the mirror and walked out.
The F?
Who washes their hands before going to the bathroom only to not wash them after? 
I was so incredibly shocked by this I lost all nerve to say anything.  And I continued vom fest 2010.  Except, not the vom fest that causes weight loss, which is also annoying.
Anywho. 
I apologize for sharing that nightmare, but really? This is backwards, no?

In other news, I have a hair appointment Saturday for the first time in 5 months.  My hair is a rats nest of stringiness.
I figure since I turn 30 in 9 months, and I have a professional job (although I no longer have to wear suits, thank God) I should start looking like I give a crap with my appearance. 
Here is where I need help. 
I have a lot of fine hair.  And is hangs straight.  Occasionally, my hair bends one way or another, but basically doesn't curl.  Except for when I spray it within an inch of the ozone.  And I don't want to single handedly speed up global warming. 
Here is a picture of me from my wedding rehearsal so you can see my face shape.  It is blurry because I cut and paint in MS Paint. Old School Baby.

Also, you should probably know I have like 20% control over my hair.  My stylist has done my hair since 7th grade and I trust her implicitly.  And she knows this, so if she is not on board, it isn't happening.  Case in point: last April I asked for bangs.  I had no bangs when I left.

Everything I never wanted to know I learned on Facebook

I am not perfect.  This I know and readily admit.  I have many faults, one being my penchant for gossip and unquenchable desire to know the story behind everything.

 

I have been trying to keep my thoughts and judgments out of other people's business.  I have tried to not bring up any gossip unless it is good news about someone that can be construed as sharing in their excitement.

 

Facebook is killing me.

 

• I know that an acquaintance of mine is due to have her 2nd child any day now, and I also know what he son had for dinner tonight.
• I know that another acquaintance's newborn son is sick, and I feel awful about knowing that.  But I wish her and the baby nothing but the best.
• I know when the latest engagement occurs.
• I see pictures from weddings that I wasn't able to attend.
• I know what my ex is doing on any given day.
• I know that two former classmates hooked up at our class reunion last year while one of the two was still in a relationship.
• I know that entirely too many people in this world do not understand the correct usage of there, they're, and their.
• I know people log a lot of hours on farmville when they should probably be working.

 

These are things that I can live with and not feel the great urge to gossip about.

 

What I can't live with and simultaneously try to be a good person? The Oversharers.

 

The guy who has an affair on MY friend.  Who, on the very day the divorce is finalized changes his formerly hidden relationship status to "in a serious relationship" with the other woman.  The guy who boasted of his 1 year anniversary with this same woman when his marriage failed only 10 months before.  The guy who has now proposed to this woman.  The woman who leaves messages on his status decrying her luck at finding such a classy and wonderful man. 

 

The girl, who I can't place from my past but who befriended me.  The girl who over the late summer months went on a status update frenzy posting about how it is never okay to hit someone, and how it is a strong woman who walks away from a bad relationship.  Her status changed from in a relationship to single in between these posts.  Daily posts were pro-female voicing how she was better off without that loser.  Then today she reveals she is engaged.  And none of her other friends seem surprised in their posts?!?

 

It is my *friends* like the above who make daily posts that send my brain off to crazy land while I try and figure out how their lives play out.  It takes emails from Gina to remind me that it is not appropriate to email these people and ask, why in the name of monkeys are you airing out your life decisions.  But, while you are airing out these happenings, could you pretty please explain more because, seriously, you are giving my overactive imagination just enough rope...

 

It makes me very happy that I was not apprised of such social networks while I was dating.  The *official* relationship status on Facebook has me utterly confused.  In my life, we had the DTR (determine the relationship) talk prior to using the term boyfriend or girlfriend.  Do you now ask the other person if you are facebook official, or do you wait for them to change their status first?  And how do you deal with the friend status after a breakup?  Do you stay friends?  Do you block your ex?  How many days do you leave pictures up?  Oh the insanity.

 

I am not complaining as without facebook I would feel completely out of the touch with the world.  Also, I would miss such gems as the *like* button of which my favorite use was when a friend's status was *liked* when he went from being in a relationship to being single.  Nothing says, "Dude that girl was a lifesuck" more than liking a breakup. 

 

What I need?  Is a way to subtly convince these people to write a blog so I can get to the bottom of this madness.  Without them knowing I care of course.

 

Is that too much to ask?

 

I am the only one that feels this way?

The day the internet news sites died

Are there really no more trustworthy news sources out there?

I gave up on CNN a few months back when I read 3 articles in one day with the exact same story only with different titles. 

Fow News?  I don't remember when I gave that up.

Huffington Post?  There were no less than 2 stories on Elizabeth Hurley that didn't involve her significant other with a hooker.  Relevancy?  Also, a recent article mentioned a photo of Bethenney Frankel was the first such shot since Bryn's birth.  Um, no, she was on the cover of a magazine 3 weeks post baby.  C'mon Huff Post.

But today is the day the internet news died for me. (and no spell check, I will NOT capitalize "internet")

People Magazine, oh how I will miss you.  But seriously.  I read this this morning on your website.

Hair cascading over her shoulders... WTF?  Are we practicing for the Emmy recaps?  It was a MUG SHOT you douchenugget.  Do NOT ruin my Sunday morning reading with your delusional grandeur of romance novel fiction writing.

Ugh. 

Does no one take the news seriously anymore?

Funkified

I am in a funk.  Not the Marky Mark Good Vibrations version that can be fixed with an emmy award winning choreographed dance number sung by teenagers about to enter regionals.  A real funk. 
Filled with an even and overflowing mix of tears and anger, iced with the occassional foul language threaded temper tantrum. 
Fortunately, all of the above are playing out in the privacy of my head and not in the real world. 
Other than my poor mood and bitter side comments, I have tried to keep my mini meltdown from the world.
Unfortunately, my egg shell is cracking. At least at home. 

The good new is, it is a documented law of nature that when either Gina or I tip the emotional scale to either elation or depression, the other is firmly rocketed to the opposing side.  So, I can only imagine, and am very thankful that Gina is having an extraordinary vacation where she is feeling waif like and getting a great tan. 

I don't know how to snap out of this.  But I do promise no more posting from me until I have found my way back to happy.

I can't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone compose a themed post, so I figured that today we would play "Fun with online news reports."

But first, since we have been failing in our frequency of Shoesday posts, I thought I would do a brief shoe update.  I am no longer drinking the ShoeFab ShoeDazzle kool aid.  Actually, I am more like binge drinking the kool-aid, so consider June (so far) as a non-imbibing Tuesday.  I got crap. 

My replacement ShoeFab gave me

of which I am considering, however the website says these are red, but my eyes say these are an atomic shade of fashion suicide, so I am on the fence. Naturally.

I did perform an experiment with ShoeDazzle though.  In my "response/comment" section of my replacement email, I decided to only write "conservative." My theory is that our nice little friend from Shoe Dazzle spends his time reading blogs rather than reading comments and therefore a computer program looks for key words only.  So when I said "NO CORK!!!" the computer read "cork" and ignored the "no" like a acne ridden 8th grader selling hair extensions at a mall kiosk. 

I will let you know what happens.

Anywho, back to the news stories gripping Americans... or just me.

2 Year old Indonesian smoker.

Ya, you heard that right.  A fat nugget baby in Indonesia is addicted to cancer sticks and smokes upward of 40 per day.  Let's discuss, shall we.  Here are my votes for the most *disturbing* aspects of the story:

1. How the F did this kid learn to blow smoke rings?  I was an honors high school graduate who couldn't figure out how to inhale properly (granted, I give up on things easily, so I tried like twice) and this baby who can't even tie a shoe or write his name can blow rings?  That is kind of awesome in a seriously sick and perveted way.

2. The kid is HEFTY.  Like 10 year old weight range fat at the age of 2.  What kind of cigarettes is he smoking?  I thought smokes caused appetite suppression.  Clearly he only smokes when he nurses, and he needs to consider hitting the bottle like no more than 4 times a day.

3. The article says he is a product of his environment.  And that environment is what exactly?  The 5th ring of hell?  This is why you don't bring babies to bars. 

4. The Mother doesn't know how to handle his cravings because he goes into a complete shit-fit when she denies him his after-boob smoke.  He is going to be a holy terror as a teenager.

Supreme Court on Miranda Rights

I usually abstain from discussing politics, generally because I think most people are stupid and I hate to argue with stupid people.  But as I don't have much else to say today, here are my thoughts on this ruling.

My understanding is that after being read Miranda rights, you must verbally state that you wish to remain silent and/or ask for an attorney.

1. Law and Order just went off the air after 20 seasons and has been televised on like 10 channels in the last 10 years.  If you haven't seen an episode I don't know what to think of you, but anyone who has watched an hour or so of some of the best television ever knows that you have to ASK for an attorney.  Like, use your big convict words and ASK.

2. The cops can question you all they want about whatever crime you are being accused of UNLESS you ask for an attorney *I am like 70% certain of this* so by keeping your mouth shut and not saying anything means they can keep going.  If you ASK for an attorney, they shut the hell up.  Or get really mad and slam the table while a skinny psychologist gives you the once over from the other side of the two-way mirror.

3. You can remain silent in 2 ways.  By actually not saying anything, or by saying you invoke your right to not say anything.  Meaning, not say anything more than you are invoking your right. 

This is not rocket science people.  It shouldn't take the Supreme Court to tell you how to NOT admit to a crime you did or *didn't* do.  What is really strange is that I was fairly certain that Adam Schiff and Co. proved this like 4 years ago.  Keep up America. 

Bethenny Frankel and her unnatural post-baby body

I am not pregnant, nor have I ever been, but I want to stab her for this.  Seriously?  She looked better at 8 months preggo than I do today. 

Speidi separation

Can we say publicity stunt?  Yes, it has been 20 minutes since we last heard Tweedle Dumbshit and Post-Op Barbie tried to have one of the 3 people who care arrested for, well, caring, so it comes as no surprise that a press release was written to announce their separation.  Oh, and Queen of Plastic has a new reality show filming involving her and a roommate that is not her husband, so it was only a matter of time.  Oh oh and she mentioned the Bearded One's propensity to create bad press, so it is only natural to create more press of your own to discuss your bad press.  I feel a migraine coming on...

**

While Google-ing Spencer Pratt to find the link to this article, I came across this. 

Someone get that girl some Beano.  She is doing asshole yoga in public.

The Bombshell is as dumb as she looks

Cheating puts food on the table. 

Also, you say racist, I say tomato...

I must have missed the explanation of why she is called a Bombshell.  Anyone?

And on a serious note, there is the oil rig explosion in the Gulf of Mexico which is leaking a truly horrific amount of oil into the Gulf.  Born and raised in Texas, I spent weeks every summer at the beach, and granted we have always been on the wrong side of the Mississippi to be blessed with white beaches, but our golden brown beaches were just as wonderful.  I am truly heartbroken over these events and am horrified of what this leak may do to my beloved Gulf.  As the daughter of an oilman, I can say nothing more than I wish peace for the families of those who died in the explosion, a speedy recovery to the fishing industry essentially shuttered by this disaster, and pray that my beach will heal and be cherished by my kids and their kids for years and years.  Also, I hope there is a special place in Hades for the asshat who made the call to continue operations rather than follow procedure and cease drilling when the problem was first found.  You sir (or ma'am)... there are no words.

Am I missing any other *breaking news* items that deserve comment? 

Oops, almost forgot:

This guy is a douche, and possibly a criminal. Again.

Deep Dark Confessions by C

I have a confession. 

I have a massive crush. 
An obsession, really. 

You know the feeling you got as a 5th grader when the first boy you thought was cute smiled at you? 

Or, as my new favorite nemesis Ke$ha would say, makes my heart beat like an 808 drum?  If I had a basement, I would be all over slumber parties with it.

What is this wanderlust I speak of, you ask?




Office Supply Stores.

Seriously.

It is my candy store and I am an unrestrained kid.  With a credit card and an endless supply of crack staples.

It is something about the smell, and the shiny plastic report covers that make me, well, ahem, happy.

And mutli-colored gel pens, and bright super sticky post-its and I could go on and on. 

The worst part?  I am the least organized, messiest accountant known to man.  Ask Gina.  I subscribe to the more papers makes it look like I am busy theory.  Part method to my madness, part where the F did I just put my pen chaos reigns supreme in my world. 

Gasping for air under the leaning tower of various SEC filing drafts on my desk are shiny, metallic paperclips and my coveted white-gum eraser.

Because everyone knows the white erasers are far better than the pink school erasers.  Right?

Please, please tell me this happens to other people?

Two lies and a truth, or why you should never send texts or voicemails if trying to cheat on your spouse

My mother always said there were two sides to every story, and then there was the truth.



Take, for example, the recent headlines of married celebrities having affairs.

One side, the celebrity: I am so sorry, it was a mistake, I have an addiction, I never thought I would be exposed (pun intended), yada yada yada.

Then the other side, the mistress: He told me he loved me, he was divorcing his hot, rich and successful wife, I truly cared about him and thought our love was real *cough-BS-cough*!

And then there's the truth: Man meets hooker/porn star, Man sleeps with hooker/porn star, Hooker/porn star saves voicemails and texts, Hooker/porn star decides she wants to be famous and calls the Star to sell story. It is truly the American love story. {*edited to add: Also, really, Star Magazine? When did the Star become the place where people told the truth? It reminds me of a scene from one of my fav movies ever:
Charlie: Hey mom, I find it interesting you refer to the Weekly World News as *the paper*. The paper contains facts.
Mom: This paper contains facts. And, this paper has the eighth highest circulation in the whole wide world. Plenty of facts. 'Pregnant man gives birth.' Thats a fact.
Oh, and little did she know many years later, that too would be true. But still disturbing altogether. Name that movie anyone?}



Here is what annoys me. I am more than willing to watch an hour or so of coverage on your exposed affair for the pure entertainment value of creating an office pool of how many days apart mistress 4 and mistress 5 appear in the media. But, I am human, and a married woman, so I do feel bad for the wives you completely screw over. So I turn off Access Hollywood every time your name is mentioned on day 2. But the worst part, the absolute most horrible part to me, is that you think I am an idiot. This morning I read how the tatted up woman in the Jesse James scandal apparently thought she was an item with James until watching the Oscars. What? You did not you stupid wench. You knew you weren't an item way back at the Golden Globes when Sandy (Ok, that's weird, I prefer Sandra) was gushing about how hot he was from the podium upon accepting her award. You just waited until everyone was talking about how amazingly wonderful she was to completely crush her world by exposing your affair. Don't act like you were Blindsided (hehe) by this.

And the 2 dozen women with Tiger...saving text messages? You don't save text messages for a year when you are in love with someone. You save text messages because you know one day you will use them to your advantage to gain 15 minutes of fame. And saving voicemails? What a horrible thought. Each time you call to check your voicemail you hear "No unheard messages, 324 saved messages." You saved these to use as blackmail. Don't deny it. You were never in love.

The cheating men are just as dumb. If you text or leave a voicemail, of course it will be saved. You have money and fame, while they don't, remember? Stupid.

Don't try to make yourself the victim. No one believes it. And it insults my intelligence, which granted is continually deteriorating based on the hours of TV I watch weekly, but still.

Also, I need a new name, any thoughts?

Why I Am Scared of Oompa Loompas

A friend of mine is getting married. Woohoo for her! Run and hide for the rest of us who must be forced to spend time with Oompa Loompa bridesmaid from hell.
Oompa Loompa is just that; awkward, pudgy to the point it keeps her from having a normal gait, and tinted an unnatural color of orange.

Do you want this standing next to you at your wedding? Didn't think so.

Recently at a shower for Bride, we were treated to Oompa Loompa in all her glory. You see OL contributed to the truly fabulous shower by A) acting as a director of the party by dictating who got what piece of cake, seriously, and B) providing a total of 4 folding chairs. Anyway, the chairs were fully functional FOLDING chairs. You know the ones you fold for storage in a dusty closet somewhere until your husband decides to start a poker group on Tuesday nights in your living room? I believe they were the Target brand, and I know this because I heart all things Target, with the deep cherry wood colored veneer to make them look more grown up than your average post college furniture. The party wraps up and the rest of us are helping Hostess clean and return her gorgeous house back to its pre-party state, when the Hostess exclaims she is going to start moving the chairs outside to be packed in someones car. You would have thought she said she was going to place someones new white Jimmy Choos in a mud puddle for safekeeping the way OL came unglued.

Scene:

Hostess: There is room in C's car so I am going to start taking these chairs outside to be loaded.

OL (mumbling to herself, which only I overheard as she was solidly within my personal space): Leave the chairs alone, they scratch very easily and I don't want them ruined

Hostess (never hears this) goes to grab chairs and folds 2 of them and heads to front door

OL: Put the F*%&ing Chairs down! I said they scratch easily and you will RUIN them

Hostess: They are folding chairs, I haven't hurt them, but whatev, sorry

OL: You will scratch the wood and I did not bring them all this way to ruin them, unless you are planning on buying me new ones

5 minutes later the rest of the crew are done doing the dishes and in their drunken state come over and decide to move the chairs out of the living room.

Wash, rinse, repeat:

OL: Put the GD F*%$ing chairs down. You will scratch them. Hostess, I will need clean towels to use as covers for the chairs in order to move them!

Hostess: What?

OL: Clean towels. You know, to put in between the chair and the chair back to prevent scratching? I will wash them and mail back to you if it is a big deal.

Hostess: Where are the towels you used to bring them here?

OL: I didn't need them on the way here because I packed them myself, and I know how to properly fold and load them. But I can't do any folding and loading now because my shoes are causing blisters and I cant go outside in this neighborhood barefoot, so your friends will have to do the loading. And they obviously can't be trusted to move anything.

I kid you not. And I get to spend this entire weekend with her at the bachelorette party. Let's hope she comes down with the swine flu today.

P.S., Apparently her family owns a rental company...