Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Things I've Always Wanted to Ask Northworst Employees

Now that I've been frequenting terminal A at Reagan pretty much every weekend, I've encountered hilarity like you wouldn't believe. From the incompetence at security to the screaming ticket counter employee, I always find something entertaining enough to keep my book in my carry-on bag.

As I've been trying to build up as many frequent flier miles as possible so that I might be able to one day collect a free coach ticket (of course, this won't happen until I earn 25,000 miles.) I've been in the air every weekend this month (or, will be, as I am journeying back to MI this final September weekend for Goddard's wedding) for a wedding and a baptism.

I think that they designed airport waiting room chairs in a moment of insanity - they're made of weird fake leather, so that no one can manage to sit up straight for more than a few minutes before sliding to the edge. Before you know it, your knees are higher than your head. How did that happen? The pleather isn't as bad as the freezing metal armrests. I suppose they don't want people laying across an entire row of chairs, so they found recycled jungle gym pipes, stripped off the gleeful red paint, and screwed them to the pleather in such a way that you almost don't get out alive. Maybe it's part of some master plan to make the seats on the actual airplane seem comfortable, I don't know.

Right, so as I sit at the gate in the most amazing chairs ever made, Ms. Crazy Northworst Employee #1 gets on the microphone and begins screaming something in a language that I can only assume was English.

I'm not going to try and recreate her accent. I just don't understand why they gave her the microphone at all (btw, it's the same lady as
here), since NO ONE COULD UNDERSTAND HER. People are frantically looking around cluelessly, hoping that someone will eventually rise, stand next to her, and start TRANSLATING. Because at this point, she could be telling us that our plane is scheduled to crash into Lake Erie and WE WOULDN'T KNOW.

Which brings me to the things that I have always wanted to ask Northworst employees:

1. So it's not required that you speak English, then?

2. Where can I buy that hooker eyeshadow?

3. Is it statistically impossible to seat me next to someone who actually brushes his/her teeth once in a while?

4. Are scrunchies part of the required uniform, or are they some kind of approved add-on that you ordered from some Girl Scout-like uniform catalog?

But they still get me from DC to MI in a freaking hour and a half, so they're pretty much awesome in my book.

Friday, September 23, 2005

Private Dancer

"I'm your private dancer, your dancer for money - I'll be who you want me to be!"

I love that my parents had that Tina Turner CD and they used to let me sing along not knowing what it meant! Of course, these are the same people that laughed their asses off when I used to pull off the fur on my teddy bear and stick it up my nose, so maybe that gives you a clue as to why I turned out the way that I did. Thanks, guys.

So I've decided that since DC stays warm through the end of October, I will wear skirts as often as possible until it gets too cold. Although, DC never really gets "too" cold, now does it? It dips below freezing every once in a while, causing the residents to FREAK THE HELL OUT and declare snow emergencies and cancel school and send federal employees home early. Oh wait. I should be glad for that...

But right, skirts. I love skirts. Feeling feminine is good. I just wish I could wear jeans. Old office was all about the jeans - probably the only good thing about that job. Of course, wearing my favorite pair was completely out of the question, as they are so old (I've had them since senior year of high school, so... eight years? I don't know. I've forgotten how to add and subtract in my head), that there are a few holes. For example, I like to pull on my jeans using the beltloops. So the two on the side have ginormous holes underneath them. There are also holes at the inside tops of the back pockets. Have no idea how those got there. So basically, when I choose to wear those jeans - though mostly around the house or on a quick trip to the market - I have to be extremely creative in underwear selection. I don't want people to think that I am an old prude, so the boring, flesh colored ones are out. But I don't want people thinking that I am some slutty whore, so the thongs and any black ones are also out. I usually settle on something pink and lacy, because I figure that makes me seem flirty, cute, and a little naughty. Because let's face it - sometimes there just isn't enough naughty in our lives...


Have recently realized that I am turning into that annoying person who forces pictures of her infant relative onto unsuspecting coworkers. I am not proud of this. But my brother sent pictures to me the other day (oh, let's be honest, Kari sent the pictures), and they are SO PERFECT that I wish I could share them with everyone. Maybe I'll find someone with a scanner to help me out...


Dinner party tonight - just the ladies. We haven't gotten together in a while, and it just seems like a good night for food, wine, 80s movies, and good conversation. Having salad, garlic bread, and awesome spaghetti, because my mom's fabulous recipe makes SO MUCH and I wanted to share! Making a yummy marinara for Laurel, since as a veggie, she might not fully appreciate the two pounds of beef that goes into the Lady's recipe. Such a good comfort food recipe for me. I usually just end up freezing most of it into convenient "dinner-for-one" baggies. Works well when I'm hungry, not so well when it reminds me that I'm a little lonely sometimes.

The Vine

So it's no secret that I love Television Without Pity. One of the recappers has her own site (well, most all of them do, really), and it's fabulous. I came across this little snippet the other day, and I thought that it was fitting. Here's the text as well:

Dear Sars,

I recently moved into an apartment at school with three good friends from the past couple of years. We have all gotten along well in the past, but yet are very different.

One big difference between me and my roommates is that I have a long-time boyfriend. I really like to spend the night with him, but his apartment is very noisy. He stayed here a lot before school started and it has only been a week since school started. He stayed here on Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night.

This weekend my roommates called a meeting. One in particular wants to ban boys staying in the apartment during the week. My boyfriend is very polite, quiet and courteous to them. He cleans up after himself, never showers here, and doesn't disrupt anyone's sleep. My roommate just says that she wants to know it is only girls in the apartment. And she is worried about it being awkward if she runs into him in the hall in the middle of the night when she goes to the bathroom. I do not share a bedroom with any of my roommates, if I did, he wouldn't stay. Am I asking too much for him to be able to stay? Should he be staying less frequently?

I'm stuck. Right now, I feel like I have to choose between my best friends and my boyfriend. What do I do?


Dear Lonely,

The issue isn't that your boyfriend is rude or a dick; it's that he...doesn't live there. He doesn't pay rent. He doesn't have a room. This isn't the arrangement your roommates agreed to; they thought they'd live with you, not with you and him.

That might seem like splitting hairs to you, but think of it from their side -- four out of five nights last week, they had a houseguest whom they didn't invite, and again, I'm sure your boyfriend doesn't clog the drain or make noise, but he's still in their space, and his loud apartment isn't their problem, really.

The "during the week" part seems kind of arbitrary, but if they want to limit "people who don't receive mail at that address" guests to, say, two or three nights a week, I think that's fair of them. If you and your boyfriend want to spend more time together than that, you can invest in some earplugs.

Sunday, September 18, 2005

No Chicken Dance?

Yep, so I totally underestimated the new job. I definitely LOVE it, but I was so used to having absolutely nothing to do, that I forgot what it was like to be productive.

Jeremy's wedding was this weekend in good old Michigan. I headed to Jeremy's parents' for a little pre-wedding get-together on Friday night. It was super fun, AND I got to play a few hands of euchre. Why does no one here know how to play? Gah. So we kept his parents up until 1 a.m. or so before venturing off into bumblefuck OHIO to find the hotel.

The wedding was beautiful and elegant - and I bawled like an idiot pretty much the whole time. I was okay until Jeremy's sister got up to sing There Is Love (Gordon Lightfoot) which is, coincidentally, my parents' wedding song. LOST IT. Mascara didn't really run, but when we stopped at the hotel before the reception, I noticed that all of my under-eye makeup had disappeared, leaving me looking like a freaking zombie. Ah, well. Cover Girl to the rescue!

Reception was a blast - sit down dinners are always awesome because you don't have to do ANYTHING. The boys were upset because the bar was closed during dinner, but they sure made up for it as soon as those plates were cleared away... the drunken dancing... oh man. The DJ was quite obnoxious, too - what kind of a DJ only has TWO Journey songs and doesn't play The Chicken Dance )actually kind of grateful for that one)?

Anyway, I am exhausted. I may have gotten a total of ten hours of sleep this entire weekend.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Computer Fun-ness

My computer was down ALL DAY yesterday. So I had a productive day. If productive means getting some sleep, then YES!

I waltzed into work, logged in, got into my work email and was reading the first new message (from A - not a work-related one, of course) for about 10 seconds before the inbox went blank. Huh?

Fine, must just be the stupid email application. Checked gmail. Same thing - 10 seconds, then nothing.

Called the computer nerds to file report at 9:15.

Logged out. Logged in. Again, 10 seconds to complete meltdown. Logged out. "Saving your settings." That message was on my screen for two hours before I turned off the whole damn thing.

My supervisor was in a meeting from 9:45 to noon, so I had literally nothing to do. I attempted to clean my office, which was left in a whirl of emotions by my predecessor. Closed my eyes for a while. I thought about going down the hall to ask my director if she had anything for me, but then realized that I didn't really WANT to do anything, so I worked on the crossword some more. More closing of eyes.

By 11:15, and no computer nerds, I went to Chipotle. I ate 1/3 of that damn veggie burrito. May have more for lunch today, but they don't always keep that well in the fridge. Always better the first day.

Meeting on the Mall at 1:15. Left on the shuttle at 12:45, meeting lasted until 4. Got back, STILL no nerds. The monitor seemed to be fucked now, too. Called again. "Yes, I see that you filed a report. But he's been there."

Oh, obviously! That's why everything is shot to hell and I can't even get the damn thing to turn ON. But he's BEEN here, you say? "Oh. Okay. Well, it's still not working. Could you see if he can come check it out before the end of the day? You see, my supervisor is going to be out tomorrow, and I will have nothing to do if I can't log in."

"Well, I can't make any promises."


He showed up at 4:45. It works fine now. Most of the confusion was from my switching offices and nothing's been updated to reflect that. Meh - if people can't find me for a while, I am totally fine with that. Obviously.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Another Long Weekend

Thursday was my last day at the crap job. I was there for one year. A very long year. Right, so I know that I was lucky to find a salaried position and not have to wait tables, but MAN ALIVE am I glad it's over.

I seriously felt myself getting stupider and stupider each day (see? At this point, I'm not even sure that 'stupider' is a word. I'd look it up, but laziness has really set in during this past year as well. Meh. SEE?!?!?!) My brain had started a shut down process and the only way I kept it alive was with the Washington Post crossword and daily doses of Jeopardy (I hate you Alex Trebek).

I had NO idea that this would happen. The boredom and laziness made me complacent, and sending out a resume every few weeks
became good enough. And then the call came about Sweet New Job.

I interviewed on a Wednesday afternoon and I got the call Thursday morning. FINALLY! My new boss and I completed the same MA program at GWU. Did that help? Who cares? I got the job! The day after Labor Day, the intellectual stimulation begins. I am so looking forward to intelligent conversation...

Tomorrow, I am meeting Amanda for lunch (we're going super high class at The Baja Fresh). And that's all I have planned! I'm sure I'll have to take a nap at some point during the day. Hmmm... I wonder if I'll ever be able to "work from home" like K-10...

Thursday, September 01, 2005


See? I knew I wasn't the only one who thought that the concert was above-average AWESOME. But I also have to agree with this writer.

I mean, yes, Green Day playing a huge arena technically dissolves their "punk" status, given that punk bands just "don't play" big crowds - it's in their definition of "selling out." That's for them to ponder, not me. And watching the crowd chant and wave along with Billie Joe made me hope that they could see the irony in following him mindlessly - something their latest album strongly preaches against!

But they were good. And there's nothing wrong with that.