tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38636475991929902842024-03-13T20:27:19.567-07:00A clusterf*ck of life...A day in the life of J. The rants, raves, and humor of the randomness I call life.J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.comBlogger40125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-3400908855313483982010-08-26T17:17:00.000-07:002010-08-26T17:17:45.587-07:00sucking on my ruffle...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0DOGEn3wco/THb9xxSXxMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qOgSZgrayLc/s1600/j_escalator.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_B0DOGEn3wco/THb9xxSXxMI/AAAAAAAAAAM/qOgSZgrayLc/s320/j_escalator.jpg" /></a></div>No...I'm not copping a squat...well, I am, but not in that sense. I was in Vegas last week for a trade show and wore this awesome long Rachel Pally striped jersey dress with the most adorable little ruffle at the bottom. I have to say it's probably one of my favorite maxi dresses that I own. My co-workers and I were riding down the escalator and as I was about to step off, the bottom of my dress got sucked into the escalator. As I watched my dress slowly start disappearing down the side of the moving stairs, I dropped to the ground thinking it would rip right off of me and expose what few undergarments I had on. Instead, the machine sucked so much of my dress that it caused the escalator to stop. The people riding behind us had to walk the rest of the way down because my lovely little ruffle jammed up the track. One of the officials for the trade show immediately ran over thinking I had hurt myself and all I could think of was to have him push the red emergency button to stop the machine so that it wouldn't start up again. He told me the machine was stopped already. I was staring up at this man trying to explain that it was stopped because my dress made it stop, but that it could start back up any minute and I REALLY did not want that to happen. Eventually as a circle of trade show staff, fellow tradespeople, and even security formed around me they began to understand what I was saying and that I was fearful of being left in my birthday suit in a quite compromising position. They finally pressed the emergency stop button and asked if they could cut my dress, which I would have allowed had it been an EMT and my leg was severed; but it really wasn't this dramatic. I knew how to fix the problem - all that needed to happen was to reverse the machine so that I could be freed - but this was somehow very complicated and required a finger print, DNA sample, and first born child just to be allowed access to the magical button that would reverse the machine. At this point I asked my co-worker to snap a pic because I knew no one would understand unless they saw. Eventually, a sheriff rode over on his Segway (yes, Segway) and was able to reverse the machine and I could finally stand up. The dress was completely greased up and shredded which made me so sad until the sheriff asked me the cost of the dress so I could be reimbursed. There is no price for the mortification I felt while squatting on the ground and having people walk by staring down at me. I now have a fear of escalators and make sure to stand directly in the middle with my hands and arms inside the cabin at all times.J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-9256697102856333012010-03-05T11:07:00.000-08:002010-03-05T11:07:07.847-08:00CuratingI am in the process of moving and am now realizing I like to collect stuff. Not like a rare stamp collection or creepy porcelain-faced dolls, or even beautiful butterflies pinned to polyfill under framed glass, but just stuff. I wouldn't classify myself as a horder...I'm not talking about paper stacked pathways through my apartment to designated areas like the one seat on the couch or piles of old gum wrappers and twine, but stuff in general. I have a vast "collection" of jewlery, make-up, shoes, clothes, scarves, craft items, etc. I should just host tours and charge $2..."and to your left you'll find "Club" by Mac...This color dates back to 1999. It was incredibly popular, especially with the sorority crowd. Note the dark grey and aqua green with the juxtaposition of red-brown undertones. Yes, quite a rarity...please do not push and stand behind the rope..." <br />
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I think I just enjoy spending. And that's great for this economy, but bad for my bank account and plans for my future. I mean I've known that I have this horrible habit for a while, but seeing the amount of things (and that's exactly what they are - just things) that I am extracting and disposing of is making me depressed. I'm finding things that I forgot I ever owned, may have worn once, and the ultimate worst - things with tags still on them. I even have "back-ups" of lotion - body and face, sunscreen, medicines, mascara, and more. UGH! It really is ridiculous.<br />
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I'm trying to use this move as a cleansing and introduction of new behavior. Out with the old...hold off on the new. Too bad I'm already thinking about how much space is now available in my closet...and how I need some espadrilles...and I want to get postage stamps to make some cute notecards...and I'm craving some new lip stains...and I want to start wearing more headbands and barettes...and...<br />
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god...I need a support group....J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-64247475007294749492010-02-11T12:19:00.000-08:002010-02-11T12:19:55.835-08:00A few of my favorite things from McQueenAlexander McQueen truly was an amazing designer. His feminine looks with a tough edge epitomize the modern, independent woman with attitude. His skull collection was probably one of my favs, by far. However, his keen eye for patterns, color and detail made his look really stand out. He will be missed.<br />
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~RIP Mr. McQueen~<br />
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<div><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/alexander_mcqueen/set?.embedder=1345851&.mid=embed&id=15943507"><img alt="Alexander McQueen" border="0" height="400" src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-set/BQcDAAAAAwoDanBnAAAABC5vdXQKFklQb3djMGtYM3hHVkxXNTY0ZzZBbHcAAAACaWQKAWUAAAAEc2l6ZQ.jpg" title="Alexander McQueen" width="400" /></a><br />
<small><a href="http://www.polyvore.com/alexander_mcqueen/set?.embedder=1345851&.mid=embed&id=15943507">Alexander McQueen</a> by <a href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/profile?.embedder=1345851&.mid=embed&id=1345851">j*fab</a> featuring <a href="http://www.polyvore.com/alexander_mcqueen/shop?brand=Alexander+McQueen">Alexander McQueen </a></small></div><br />
<div style="font-size: 0.75em;"><b>Items in this set: </b><br />
<a href="http://www.polyvore.com/lace-embroidered_satin_dress/thing?.embedder=1345851&.mid=embed&id=13614536">Lace-embroidered satin dress</a>, $5,285<br />
<a href="http://www.polyvore.com/alexander_mcqueen_lace_embellished_bustier/thing?.embedder=1345851&.mid=embed&id=14071517">Alexander McQueen Lace embellished bustier top</a>, $1,995<br />
<a href="http://www.polyvore.com/alexander_mcqueen_cutout_leather_ankle/thing?.embedder=1345851&.mid=embed&id=14075374">Alexander McQueen Cutout leather ankle boots</a>, $995<br />
<a href="http://www.polyvore.com/alexander_mcqueen_faithful_bootie/thing?.embedder=1345851&.mid=embed&id=9020427">Alexander McQueen Faithful Bootie</a>, 375 GBP<br />
<a href="http://www.polyvore.com/alexander_mcqueen_spring_2010_shoes/thing?.embedder=1345851&.mid=embed&id=11157539">Alexander McQueen Spring 2010 Shoes <br />
<br />
ShoeBlog</a></div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-74319514883179188922009-11-12T17:17:00.000-08:002010-06-29T06:55:06.398-07:00China logicWell, I am in China...have been here since 11/4/09 and must say this is the busiest, most stressful trip I have ever had. There has been so much I have wanted to blog about, but between getting access to the site and being kept extrememly busy, it hasn't happened. I have been close to a couple break-downs and did, in fact, reach one a few days ago. Lots of cursing and even some tears, but was able to pull myself together after 10 minutes of ranting. It's amazing how such a short little outburst can really help you feel better. I'm not sure what it is about this trip - the fact that I really want to get home or the fact that everyday the line I am developing takes a severe turn or that I am not getting enough sleep every night becuase I am fighting off mosquitos, but even the little annoyances are ready to send me off the deep end...and believe me, they would not normally induce the response they are here:<br />
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*I have to use an outlet converter to blow dry my hair....pure logic would state - put the mirror near the outlet, however not so. Therefore, as I try to see just a quarter of my head that I am trying to style, the plug falls out. Try this about every 2 seconds of blow-drying. By day 3, I was on the verge of screaming. PS....there is another outlet closer to the mirror, but wouldn't you know, the tv is plugged into this one and that cord is stretched about all it can...DUH! move the tv to the other table that's closer to BOTH outlets. <br />
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*grown men who hit the back of my seat in the airplane, people who try to push in front of me in the ticket line, and people I politely ask if they speak english only to be swatted away like a 2nd class citizen - I think traveling in China turns me into somewhat of a BITCH - I give dirty looks, am not shy to tell people to stop and swat at them, push back (and harder), and try to fill my personal bubble with carry-ons. I feel like a wild animal, having been tempted to hit people as I know they can not understand me if I try to communicate with them. Maybe this is why animals attack...they are trying to tell their trainers to leave them alone for a bit.<br />
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*"My Friend"...if you don't know my name, I am not your friend. This is what every man on the Hong Kong streets says while trying to sell you a "nice watch". I don't even say no, or no, thank you anymore...just shake my head and put my hand up<br />
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*MOSQUITOS - I am up all night long....and not in the good way. :) I look like I'm performing some kind of African tribal dance with all my itching up and down my feet, legs, arms, and even face. I look like I'm going through puberty again with all these bites on my face. The repellent doesn't work, so I started sleeping with my blanket from home (I don't trust the cleanliness here) over my head and tucked all around me, which gets rather hot and difficult to sleep this way; and they still find a way to my sweet flesh. I find myself waking up several times a night flailing to try to kill at least one of them. The other night I had had it with them and was curious to see how many more hours I would need to endure this...it was only 12:50am...I growled, sprayed a cloud of repellent, and turned the air conditioning down so that it was close to freezing (I figured I could freeze them out), then pulled the blanket up over my head. I feel like I am in some sort of torture camp. And what is it with them buzzing for that millisecond by your ear. That sound alone is ready to send me off a cliff.<br />
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Really, I've been able to laugh at all of this, for the most part. Even after the break-downs, however touching down on sweet American soil will bring such a smile to my face. Believe me, this trip calls for a much needed de-stress session filled with facial, massage, and quiet...J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-1676910419665791542009-10-30T11:29:00.000-07:002009-10-30T11:29:44.136-07:00so...my office does halloween....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SuswWy_xguI/AAAAAAAAAGw/ioIJCV7VYco/s1600-h/j_hdos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SuswWy_xguI/AAAAAAAAAGw/ioIJCV7VYco/s320/j_hdos.jpg" vr="true" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">ahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahah...that is all....<br />
</div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-65059122905910898432009-10-29T10:07:00.000-07:002009-10-29T10:07:41.228-07:00because we love eachother....I started a new job about a month ago and to say it's been crazybusy is an understatement. I've been so neglectful to my cluster...sorry! I vow to be better from here on out....<br />
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July 30...the day after the lay off....I had to get a new phone, as work removed the BB from my posession. Boo! Getting a new phone also involved getting a new number...Jaime's number. Obviously at the time I didn't know it was Jaime's number, nor did I realize how many people are trying to get a hold of Jaime. It started with a text I received from an unknown number on day 2 of the new digits. I believe it said something along the lines of "baby, i miss you". At first I was actually pretty excited...what a sweet little message. I want to be missed. I replied with "i think you have the wrong number". Well, the gentleman thought I was playing games and proceeded to keep flirtexting. In the midst of all of this I recieved a text from another number saying "hey baby", followed by "sorry, wrong jaime"...ah ha! So, it's Jaime's number I've got. From that point on, I have recieved texts saying "are you still going to the show tomorrow night?", phone calls on school nights from inebriated kids yelling "JAIIIMMMMEEEE!", and voicemails from Banana Republic about an outstanding balance. I've wanted to reply "what show...can I get tickets?", have groggily replied "this isn't jaime...grrr...", and thought "phew...glad it's not my account".<br />
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At this point I feel like I know this Jaime, like she's my old friend in much need of a catch up sesh. At least I know she has friends that care about her, guys that want a piece, and unfortunately some financial problems (who doesn't these days). In fact, I've learned that she lives in my town through the drunken musings before I heard Jaiiimmmeee screamed at me. The scary part is that I have probably seen her out or met one of her friends, but how would either of us ever know?<br />
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Yesterday was the icing on the cake, but first let me preface it. About a week or two ago, I received a phone call from an unknown number. I rarely answer numbers that I don't recognize, especially after this whole Jaime fiasco. I've feel that if someone is trying to reach Jaime, they should figure out pretty quickly that I am not her, as my voicemail says my name within the first 2 seconds. Well, the unknown caller left me a message, which excited me. I love trying to guess who it could be, but usually am let down. Not today! After dialing in my password, my lady friend told me I had one new message. An elderly man clearly says hello, addressing me by my name, then explains he is Jaime's grandfather and is trying to reach her; as if we share this number. He leaves me a detailed message explaining that they finally got a new t.v. and even gave a YIPPEEE. That was my favorite part. I was ready to call him back and let him know I didn't know Jaime or where she was, but I'd be his surrogate grand daughter as long as he kept up that YIPPEEE. It could seriously turn a frown upside down.<br />
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I never called him back, but apparantly gramps was missing sweet little Jaime because I received a call from a number I didn't recognize yesterday and happened to answer it. It was gramps!!! He addressed me by name and explained that he was looking for Jaime. I told him I did not know Jaime, but I must have her old number. To which he replied, "we call each other because we love each other". Awww, gramps, that's so sweet, but really don't need to know about the love. I wished him luck in locating Jaime, which he assured me he could get in contact with her through her mother. Not to be cynical, but I've had this number for the last three months and Jaime hasn't talked to gramps on it. How much do they really love each other if Jaime nor mom clued gramps in on Jaime's new number? It's almost worse than changing the locks on someone....J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-16838602699815915122009-10-20T10:39:00.000-07:002009-10-29T10:09:01.310-07:00say hello to my little friend....<div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/St4mQyWDzsI/AAAAAAAAAGg/8unZI-RlT1Q/s1600-h/caterpiller2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394791473470492354" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/St4mQyWDzsI/AAAAAAAAAGg/8unZI-RlT1Q/s320/caterpiller2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 204px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 273px;" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/St4mReSG6HI/AAAAAAAAAGo/1XGCwL2jrdc/s1600-h/caterpiller1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394791485265078386" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/St4mReSG6HI/AAAAAAAAAGo/1XGCwL2jrdc/s320/caterpiller1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 205px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 308px;" /></a> <br />
<div><div><div>I decided with the weather getting cooler I was ready for some comfort food. Homemade butternut squash soup it would be. I wanted it a little spicy, so went to the patio to pick a pepper. I found this green guy hanging onto one of the stems. I almost picked him! He is a beautiful catterpiller, but I don't think I've ever seen one this big! Just to get a good perspective on how big this guy is...I took another picture with my arm in it. He is bigger and fatter than my middle finger! Probably weighs more than many newborns. Being that he is the size of many of those little pets that people call dogs (I think they are more of the rat varietal). I wanted to make him my new pet...I figured he's pretty low maintenance and since he really didn't mind me petting him I thought he'd be happy about the deal too. I came up with a couple names - Henry, Pepper, and Slim; however I wanted to sleep on it before committing to one. Often, pets' personalities come out as you get to know them and I wanted to make sure I named him appropriately. The soup turned out scrumptious and the rest of the night was pretty uneventful, but went to sleep with sweet dreams of my new pet and the many adventures we would have - picking out his first collar; going on long walks; playing catch; and driving around with his head out the window, tongue flapping in the wind.<br />
</div><div></div><div><div>This morning I was so excited to greet my new pet and made sure to visit him on the patio before jetting off to work. I bee-lined it to his home, but didn't see him. I mean I barely saw him the night before and even thought he was a pepper, so I looked all over the pepper plant, soil below, and even neighboring plants. Little Slim was gone! I knew he would one day turn into a beautiful butterfly and leave me, but overnight? A caterpiller that big would surely be a big butterfly and would need some time in his chrysallis! I looked up to see the several plump pigeons already collected on the telephone lines and was sure I heard one burp and lick his beak. Poor Slim! Looks like Thanksgiving came a little early for some...<br />
</div></div></div></div></div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-13694190091630126482009-10-09T08:53:00.000-07:002009-10-09T09:41:21.233-07:00raising my glass...Congrats to Obama! Nobel Peace Prize....what an amazing acheivement to be awarded!<br /><br />Imagine being hired for a multi-trillion dollar company and expected to turn it around 180 degrees by increasing profit, increasing benefits for all employees, overseeing a corporate take-over of a rival company where competition and tension is extremely high, and regaining respect within the industry and among fellow employees; all while not getting support from the other excutive heads or management in the company...within a year....ethically. Pretty difficult task. Yet, Obama is being criticized for not measuring up to these standards. Before he took office, America had a slew of issues that needed to be dealt with, but our CEO seemed to muddle everything up. I'm not getting into the politics, but just want to express my happiness that Obama sees the bigger picture and realizes it's better to play nice and keep friends because they will be more willing to help you out later.<br /><br />Change!J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-76722572501421745282009-08-27T12:54:00.000-07:002009-08-27T14:08:22.345-07:00ass'd outSaw this headline today in my Inbox from a neighborhood news update....<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(63, 63, 63); font-family: arial; font-size: 13px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 16px; ">LIVE VIDEO FEED as Ass'y Committee To Vote on SB 250 ("Pet Responsibility Act") re spay/neuter</span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This is almost too easy. Ass'y? Come on...that can't be the abbreviation for Assembly. I mean the government is full of them, but who knew they were so aware and accepting of being asses. Well, what do you know...It is! I just checked three different websites and all came up with the same conclusion. However, they didn't include the apostrophe...they just went straight Assy. </div><div><br /></div><div>It reminds me of when I was in seventh grade Science class. Our teacher had a very specific set of titles for each of our divider tabs in our notebooks. I wasn't able to fit 'Assignments' on the tiny little divider tab, so being an extremely naive, but brainy twelve year old I simply put 'Ass'. Afterall, my relationship with the English language up to that point had always shown me that common abbreviations were the first three to four letters of the word. You know, Jul, Aug, Capt, min, etc. When I got to class the next day ready for the teacher to check my notebook, feeling pretty proud of my organization and penmanship abilities, a couple of my friends started giggling at my Ass tab. They explained that Ass was not the correct abbreviation for Assignments, but actually Assn was more appropriate. I quickly added an 'N' to my Ass, to cover it and not make the teacher think I was being a smart one. However in checking the correct abbreviation for Assignments it actually is acceptable to use Ass, so it could've been Ass's plain and simple, although I'm not sure the teacher would've appreciated this. </div><div><br /></div><div>Update to the headline: the Ass'y approved the act. So, let's hear it for the Assy taking on some tough ass's. </div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-5767785148336188812009-07-31T11:30:00.000-07:002009-07-31T12:06:48.948-07:00hoopin' it upSo...I've joined the American non-working force with "eliminated" positions. It's the first time I have experienced this sort of shock, but I'm glad I have time for blogging again. :) I must admit I wasn't getting enough exposure to the general public to allow for any ridiculousness. However, now that my days are filled with coffee shop job-surfing, reading, and enjoying the world around me I've had some interesting experiences.<div><br /></div><div>I am spending my weekend in Venice Beach, CA...I know...that opens up a wealth of ridiculousness. However, yesterday's giggle was actually away from the boardwalk and more mainstream. Surprisingly.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am staying at a recently moved into apartment of someone who is out of town. While working on the resume yesterday afternoon, I heard a knock at the door. Normally no one is home during the day, so I was hesitant to answer. Earlier there were some workers hosing down the patio and had sprayed water against the front door leading to quite a mess of dirty water dripped down the door and puddling on the floor below. I figured the knock was a concerned worker checking the stats on the patio "cleaning" job. I answered and there was a confused postman in front of me...holding what appeared to be a large hula hoop wrapped in brown paper. He asked for Elaine and I replied that I was sorry, but she didn't live here any more. He asked again, hoping I'd change my mind. When I explained again that she no longer lived here, he gave me the saddest look and put the brown-papered hula hoop around his neck and turned to continue with his deliveries. That poor man had to traipse through the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">neighborhood</span> carrying a large hula hoop and I'm sure when someone answered the door he was elated to be rid of it...only to learn he would have to return to the post office with the undeliverable package. I'm sure he had a rough day in the office with that one. I can see all his mail carrying peers giving him a hard time on that one. I wonder if they secretly "mail" awkward packages on each other's routes as their "office antics". You know, like how people in graphics alter pictures of others in the office for a laugh, computer programmers make pictures of elaborate scenes using only symbols on a keyboard, and 911 operators make fake calls of people choking on the other end of the line. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Hmmm</span>...no? As soon as I shut the door, I realized I should have just taken it...it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">could've</span> been a great time-killer for me. Oh well, next time...because I'm sure brown-papered hula hoops are delivered via USPS all the time. I think 2010 will be the year of the brown-papered birthday hula hoop - be prepared <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">friends</span>. :)</div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-28469621878684320192009-06-19T08:54:00.000-07:002009-06-19T10:01:04.426-07:00lucky meToday while on hold with the LA Court system trying to change the time of my court appearance (long story, which will make it here on or around the 25th of June) I got to listen to some lovely instrumental jazz. The song was 'Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas'. It took me a second to place it...but then I realized I was saying "let your heart be light". I thought maybe it was a coincidence - you know, maybe like how the ABC song sounds like Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. I decided the chances are pretty slim - it's just a Christmas song. It is the middle of June, so either they are too early or a little late with that one. It being the LA court system, I'm sure no one got around to removing that one from the selection after the month of December; probably because they were on break or their window was closed. Sorry to generalize, but every experience I have had in dealing with our wonderful bureaucratic system has been negative. This citation that I am trying to take care of is not even for me - it was a typo from the DMV, but i need to take care of it by appearing in court and speaking to a judge. That makes a lot of sense, right? <div><br /></div><div>Even just now after talking to a clerk and requesting to change my time of appearance to be in the morning, rather than the evening, I was told that I can not. When I scheduled my court date, it was about 2 months ago and I didn't know if I would have work obligations on this day, which I brought to the attention of the clerk who scheduled my date. She told me that I could call and change the time only, not the date. Now I am being told the opposite and told that I obviously didn't understand what the first clerk told me. I did understand what I was told - both today and 2 months ago; however it gets rather confusing when two people who are supposed to be following the same protocol tell you completely opposite information. It further perturbs me when I am now being told that it is because I can not comprehend what I was told. It makes it really hard to follow the rules. Not to be bratty, but I've probably had more education than both of them (probably not both together though, although it wouldn't surprise me).<div><br /></div><div>So, after speaking with the woman on the phone, I am told that I can not change court times; however if I "miss" my court date I can show up the next day in the morning or afternoon time slot. Now maybe I'm missing the logic here, but wouldn't it just be easier to schedule me in earlier in the day that I currently have assigned, rather than assume I will be there at the evening time and not have me show up. Then to have me show up the next morning and cause a disruption in the schedule? What's the point in scheduling a court date/time when it seems it's just an approximation of when you may be there? </div><div><br /></div><div>I tend to ask a lot of questions, as I like to understand why certain rules are in place - some think I am being obstinate, but I really just want to know to better understand the reasoning. Believe me, I got in trouble by the parents A LOT as a child for my questions - I was told I was being difficult. So, I ask this woman why it is this way and why i couldn't just schedule an earlier time. She told me I was lucky to even be able to show up the following day. So I responded with, "well, I'm glad I'm lucky"...of course in my most sarcastic, but trying to sound clueless tone. I really wanted to follow it up with "maybe I should go buy a lottery ticket", but I'm sure she could've removed any existence of my questioned court date with a swift pinky to the delete button on her keyboard, so I resisted. I didn't realize LUCK played a part in the judicial system, I thought it was a system that promotes truth and justice. Hmmm....I guess I was unlucky from the beginning in having to take care of this mistaken identity in the first place. Maybe I will have myself a merry little christmas today...and I really wish "from now on, [my] troubles will be miles away".</div></div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-15767388505530738842009-06-17T08:59:00.000-07:002009-06-17T09:20:12.544-07:00foot fetish?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SjkTHQbut-I/AAAAAAAAAFg/4DryZ5MUTOw/s1600-h/capezio+foot+undeez.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SjkTHQbut-I/AAAAAAAAAFg/4DryZ5MUTOw/s400/capezio+foot+undeez.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348327047870461922" /></a>I found this lovely garment on Zappos.com today. I could not pass up an opportunity to comment on this little gem. <div><br /></div><div>Underwear for the feet? I don't want to think about flesh-toned tightey, uhh, whiteys? - i guess nudies, in this case. Nor, do I want to think about my feet in a crotch-like sense. I already have issues with feet...now they are going to make me think of androgynous crotches. I know I'm going to have nightmares from these atrocities. I imagine foot fetishers coveting these. I wonder if they make them with garters and "crotch-less" varieties. Maybe a nice black lace version with matching ankle bra? Gives me the chills...and not in a good way. Maybe I'm just too sheltered to get it. The blurb about the product states they are used for dance - lyrical, jazz and that sort; but it also says they can be worn under street shoes. Not to be extremely graphic, but is it to keep the toe jam from getting into your shoes? Everything about these are just wrong.</div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-41302438908710129092009-04-28T09:49:00.000-07:002009-04-28T10:28:11.202-07:00the male dominated societyin china. normally i have so many stories, but i think i have become too accustomed to the culture that little affects me or surprises me anymore. however, tonight i had the funniest thing happen to me. most would probably not giggle, but i am still giggling about it. <div><br /></div><div>Tonight started off innocently. I had a last minute trip planned for Putien, China from Zhoung Shen, China. I was traveling by myself sans cell phone, which I think worried all the US higher ups. Shockingly I was not worried about any thing...I think because I knew that pre-cell phone era people traveled in many countries despite knowing the language. I knew one way or another I could figure things out. The pilots fly as they drive in China - pretty much in a bee-line. Not so apparent until landing. The wings cocked to the left, then the right before finally hitting the ground with such force I thought we would be ejected from our seats. Immediately the breaks hit, causing me to reach for the "oh shit handle" as in a Jeep; but was non-existent. After collecting my luggage, I was picked up from the airport by my Brazilian counterpart that lives here and immediately taken to dinner. I felt bad already that they had waited for the dinner (it is a big production here, which usually takes place about 6:30pm...it was 9pm) and I'm sure they were starving. </div><div><br /></div><div>Dinner was fantastic...how can it not be when they make you feel like a celebrity. I thought all I had to do was play the part through dinner, then could go back to the hotel and go to sleep; however not so easy. This is a culture that loves to entertain and impress. I have had to learn how to accept it all, as if you do not they are offended. I was told we were going to a club. Apparently I am their personal go-go dancer...but whatever I have to do to get my samples. But of course, with a few exceptions.</div><div><br /></div><div>Immediately upon arriving to the club they were trying to force me onto the stage. While some may think I like attention, I get very shy with public attention and need about 4 beers of coaxing. Eventually I got on the stage, really only because I felt bad for all the effort put in to make my time special. Shortly after I needed to use the restroom, so I went with one of the Chinese women. As I walked into the stall (non-western style, nonetheless - please look it up to get the full visual...it involves squatting), I was grabbed by the arm and pulled out by a man. I was taken aback at first, but immediately fell into a fit of giggles remembering where I was. Apparently in China if a man needs to use the restroom it is an URGENT matter and he is allowed to not only cut in front of a woman, but pull her out of a stall. I could not stop laughing. Granted, if I were at home or about 2 sheets to the wind, the outcome would not have been so pleasant for anyone. I would have probably yelled...quite possibly thrown a punch (as I do not like being manhandled by anyone)....and would've ended up having to explain myself by way of translator. It all just made me realize life is just one big joke...enjoy it because nothing is that serious.</div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-7233563419272716222009-04-23T00:24:00.000-07:002009-04-23T06:52:46.208-07:00U - Da - HoBack from Idaho and now in China. Not China - China, but China - Asia...big difference! ;) I told someone that when they asked about my China trip...they asked if I was going to China - China, so I answered with the latter. What does that even mean - China - China?<div><br /><div> </div><div>Idaho was amusing....everything I expected Idaho to be. I have to start by saying I think I really dislike (hate is such a strong word) the San Diego airport. 3 notables within 20 minutes...so typical of my life. </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div>I had already checked in online and paid for the bag I was checking, so just needed to give the front desk peeps my bag. Easy enough, right? ha haha ha. I start by asking a man from the airline (who was helping to direct people) if I was in the right line for checking a bag. Well, in the meantime a man literally creeped up so close that if I turned 1 centimeter in any direction I would run into him. I did not know he had creeped up on me and as I turned to walk I was told to watch myself. Um...watch yourself...you are the one that creeped up on me SIR. Ugh. It was 6:40 am and too early to deal with this. I get in the line to check my bag and when I get to the counter the woman asks for my boarding pass. All I have is the print-out from when I checked in online. She tells me that this is not really a boarding pass....I ask what the point of checking in online is. But no answer. I have to go to the kiosk to print my boarding pass. I try to type in the information, however can not find any of the correlating data on the computer print out to put into the kiosk. I decide to just get back in line and have someone else at the counter help me. It is too early, I am not having people answer my legitimate questions, and I am still trying to wake up. Nevertheless there is still someone out to get me. As we are standing in the security line, which was a LINE. A woman comes up with her husband saying "Oh, here's the line" as she stands next to my friend and I. Please note...there are about 20 more people behind us (not an exaggeration, even for the purposes of a good story). I tell the woman that the line ends way back yonder and point in the general direction. I get the response of a stare down from hell for a good 30 seconds. Go stare at yourself in the mirror for 30 seconds. It's no joke...grueling, to the point of looking for a fight. When she finally turns around and heads for the end of the line, my friend says "We weren't being mean, just letting you know". The couple behind us comments on the interaction as well. All I can say is "What...did she think if she stared me down long enough the line would go away?" The sass never fails. To make matters worse, as the lady-with-the-stare-tactics-that-would-end-the-war comes snakes her way thru the line opposite us, my friend and I hear "Anyone with a 7:20 flight?" Ummm...hate to say it, but yes and glad about it. We are immediately ushered to the front of the security line. I can feel the darts puncturing the back of my skull as we carelessly make our way to the front of the line.</div><div><br /></div><div>Upon arriving in Idaho, I have little to report. I can now say I've been there, done that. Got to see the capitol even. Check and check. The wedding was great and I have a great excuse for making the trip. We had some great nights out - including a local girl telling us that she loves when girls lie and say they are from California to pretend to be pretty. I'm still trying to figure out how to try to pretend to be pretty.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, now I am in China. After 24 hours of travel, a quick shower, a few hours in the office, quick nap, dinner with a factory, finally back in my room. The factory dinners are always rough - they love a girl that can drink and I definately fill the role. More stories to follow....</div></div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-5567639914658060902009-04-16T11:34:00.000-07:002009-04-16T12:12:09.996-07:00neglectlessness no moreso......it's definitely been a while since i blogged. quite an understatement actually. it's been TOOO LONG! not really sure why....i like to blame it on my busy-ness with work and life in general. needless to say, it's an excuse. enough is enough.<div><br /></div><div>Today I was reading through my numerous trend blogs that I frequent and it made me really miss my own blog that I have neglected - kind of like that whole red-headed step child thing. It made me sad for a second, then I realized I am in control of my own destiny...and blog as it turns out, so I said to my self - Self get your scheisse's going again. And here we are.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am headed to Idaho (no...you da ho - never gets old) tomorrow with my main ho. I am hoping for plenty of ridic at 5000+ feet. I hope to have stories and pictures aplenty, as Lisa and I tend to have "photo shoots" when we get bored. I just hope we don't get kicked off the plane. </div><div><br /></div><div>Upon my return I am headed to China for work. I plan on working and playing pretty hard for that one. I found out yesterday I am headed there in Coach seating. Not that I will complain because it is an international trip on someone else's dime and I love seeing the culture, but.... I am not looking forward to the 5 kinks I will have in my neck upon arrival. I'm gonna look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame by the time we land. I'm sure that just as my spine gets back to normal I'll be heading home and have to start all over again. </div><div><br /></div><div>oh yeah...i remember why I miss this...It's like my diary. I never found a reason to write in one. I always thought it weird and uncomfortable to put my ideas, activities, and wishes in document form. I much rather prefer them all having a tea party together in my head. It allows for more mingling that way and procreation. This is my way of kind of sorting through them all and finding some order in my chaotic mind. Today I displaced the following tenants: tomorrow's activity, Tuesday's activity, that little quirky one that prefers to lick the sugar bowl than drink tea, and sadly the german scheisse. Maybe you can take them home and make them feel comfortable. They are real good and don't take up too much room - afterall, I have a small head and there's a lot going on in there.</div><div><br /></div><div>Back to work...it's been fun. I will be back sooner than later...till then...</div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-23234570456270974722009-02-12T11:06:00.000-08:002009-02-12T11:19:42.661-08:00Raider Nation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SZRzRDlsmqI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Rp-O1-HtwDk/s1600-h/impala+ss.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SZRzRDlsmqI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Rp-O1-HtwDk/s400/impala+ss.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301989398180305570" /></a>I saw this lovely masterpiece on my commute this morning. I tried to get a decent pict without rear-ending the car in front of me or getting myself shot in the face. It's a little blurry, but just to clarify - that is an Impala SS and if you weren't sure, it's written in hot pink along the side. But, that's not even my favorite part; on either side of the Impala logo on the back is 'Samoa' with an island logo and yes, a HOT PINK Raiders logo. I love it. It's like the Pink Ladies of the Raiders. I didn't even know the Raiders had that. I mean I know about the Raiderettes, but they don't even wear pink. Instead of T-Birds and black cigarette pants, she's rocking an Impala and and men's XXXL jersey. After snapping the pic I had to get out of there...I know the reputation of Raiders fans and I was not about to become one of their victims. So, if I turn up missing, please know I did this for you.J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-35616970011769431672009-02-10T15:18:00.000-08:002009-02-10T15:45:57.039-08:00marking my spotHEY THERE!!! I know it's been a while, but with the bum arm and overload at work I haven't found the time to write. Well, I'm back....go ahead, sing with me now....Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back (Welcome Back, Kotter for those not in with the know). The arm is working in full effect again and the brain's been spinning with the most recent abstract thought, so what better time to share....<div><br /></div><div>Just got back from the bathroom (I often have thoughts in there, as I am a girl and it takes a bit of time to sit and take care of my bidness - that's for you Z'Qualin). Anyway, enough with the shout-outs. There are several Chinese- American citizens that work for my company and I got this thought in my head....let me preface it first. In China, there are "western" toilets, which are the toilets that we use in America as you and I know them; however the locals get up on top and stand with their feet on either side of the toilet seat (the part that men are supposed to lift when urinating), squatting over the bowl. I'll wait while you get that visual...got it? Funny, right. It would always make me giggle to go to the bathroom in China, lift the lid and see little foot prints on either side. Well, I was wondering today if the Chinese-Americans in my office do the same thing. As I sat there I started to giggle imagining various co-workers of mine stepping up onto the toilet to pee...hee hee. It made me want to get up on the seat and leave my foot prints for a co-worker to find. Most would not get it and probably think something kinky was going on in there, but I know there would be that one person that has been to China and would for a second forget where they were. And that is what would make it all worth it....</div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-10295825223637241572009-01-16T15:47:00.000-08:002009-01-16T16:32:40.282-08:00scene of the crime<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SXEci6eHZpI/AAAAAAAAADY/DRf5V46apYc/s1600-h/wine-crime.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SXEci6eHZpI/AAAAAAAAADY/DRf5V46apYc/s400/wine-crime.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292042423273744018" /></a>Last night I was on a hot date - riding bikes to the greatest wine bar to enjoy wine (duh) and live music. The weather was great - warm for a January night and I was enjoying the ride through the neighborhood. Along the way we came to an intersection and there was some confusion between us and the car coming. Needless to say I ended up on the ground, luckily not because of the car; but unfortunately because of the other bike. I got taken out! I picked myself up quickly to get out of the intersection and evaluate my situation. I collected my purse that I yard-saled and gave myself a once over. My left breast was black from skidding across the asphalt, my right palm was missing a couple layers of skin, and my left arm was unmovable. My legs were trembling partly from shock and partly from embarrassment. What started as a couple of bikers and a car at a quiet neighborhood stop sign turned into a shenanigans of four cars and eight bikers all asking if I was alright. Where did everyone come from and why was now the opportune time? I quickly answered everyone and within seconds it was once again empty. Once I realized I still had most of my wits about me, I started giggling. The whole scenario was hilarious to me. I saw the erupted wine and remaining red cup in the middle of the street and felt I needed to document the incident - as seen above. <div><br /></div><div>Photo snapped, we proceeded to the wine bar, me one-handed, and had a fantastic time. This morning went for the X-rays and conclusion: fractured elbow. Good thing I've got two. The weirdest thing about it is having this limp dangly appendage just hanging out, as it's not useful in any sense. It kind of makes me think of an enlarged skin tag just there not really doing anything, but very noticeable and painful. I feel like I went to battle and I lost my arm by land mine. Thank goodness this is not the case and I will be up and running, er, punching in no time. P.S. Typing with one hand is a lot harder than you think. It took me about five times longer than normal to write this and a million spelling errors to correct. Going over to a friends house tonight after I pop a couple vicodin. Maybe I'll skateboard since it's a little difficult to ride a bike right now.</div><div><br /></div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-50498640267310011682009-01-15T09:27:00.001-08:002009-01-15T09:53:04.528-08:00obviously...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SW938AxN0II/AAAAAAAAADQ/8Fj2t0M0KwU/s1600-h/beach.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SW938AxN0II/AAAAAAAAADQ/8Fj2t0M0KwU/s400/beach.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291579960065904770" /></a><br />It's been a while since I've last blogged. Work's been crazy busy and my brain is pretty much fried - just like those commercials from the early 90's with the frying pan, fried egg, "this is your brain on drugs" slogan. Is work a drug?...'cuz if so I should be in the hospital for OD-ing, followed by a stint at Rehab. I'm thinking I can get all 12 steps figured out in about 30 days - sign me up! <div><br /><div> </div><div>Anyway, I saw this sign yesterday on my way into work. Note: photo has been altered only to make the sign more legible. First thought...how have I never noticed this sign before? Then, Ummm...What?! I thought my eyes were deceiving me, like I said - my brain is fried. What's so ironic about the sign is that when you are reading it you are clearly staring directly at the ocean. If you continue straight you will hit the beach. So why's the arrow pointing the other way? Is that just a REALLY big lake back there? </div></div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-64416284887951921412009-01-09T15:36:00.001-08:002009-01-09T15:57:52.802-08:00Friday Shocker<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SWfim8fXnhI/AAAAAAAAAC4/UK2J9w2_6SI/s1600-h/shocker.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 253px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g-NYeEMmDF0/SWfim8fXnhI/AAAAAAAAAC4/UK2J9w2_6SI/s320/shocker.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289445446070541842" /></a>I got onto the freeway early this morning - I had to be at work early to handle some business - and I will tell you a Friday morning at 6:40 am is nothing like a Friday morning at 7:30 am. My drive began with a Prius honking at me approximately 2.5 seconds after the green arrow lit up to turn left. My natural reaction was to put up my left index finger and said "Easy"; however I think she thought I flipped her off because she felt the need to pull up next to me about 4 blocks later and give me the most foul look. And I don't refer to it as foul because it hurt my feelings, but her face was contorted in such a way that she almost looked like half of her face was paralyzed. Why do people do things like this? I understand her meaning was to give me a dirty look, or something; but instead it made me laugh because it just made her look ugly. Lucky me that she didn't try to run me off the road. I then made my way to the freeway where there was little traffic and cars were not driving to their full speed capacity, which always irritates me. I decide I'm not going to worry about it and start jamming to my ipod. Halfway to my office I spot the most atrocious lime green sticker on the back of a little black hatchback. At first I thought it was the "SuperFinger" in honor of Dane Cook, which I thought was just lame all around; however as I approached the car it was none other than THE SHOCKER. I could not contain my laughter. Who puts that on their car? I had to get a picture - seen above, sorry about being a little out of focus, I was trying to capture the essence with out rear-ending him. Once I snapped the pic, I had to see the person that thought this sticker was a good idea. It was none other than a round, nerdy - looking little man. I am familiar with the glory of the shocker, but I just can not understand the thought process behind putting it on the rear view window of your car, let alone an enlarged version...and why lime green? Is this the mating call for all those that enjoy the shocker? If so, I am going to need to stay away from that parade after seeing the Grand Marshal... <div> </div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-8527007813591368272009-01-07T16:26:00.000-08:002009-01-07T17:49:31.631-08:00Banking with a purpose...literallyLast nite I had a plethora of errands to run after work with the urgency of getting home to go for a run. My first stop was to get my car smog checked. I'm not really sure why, as it is only a 2002 - apparently I am at risk? I guess Mercedes didn't have their act together that year. Anyway, I passed (phew!) with flying colors of course and fifty some dollars later. Next, off to the bank for my rent check. My property management company only accepts cashier's checks or direct withdrawal from your account (big no no in my book). I don't live in section 8 housing, as far as I know, but somebody does and I have to be inconvenienced by it. Regardless, I am at the bank waiting in line hoping not to get the teller that always talks my ear off (I think he thinks it's flirting), but sure enough I get him. I give him my account number and tell him what I need. We go through the normal banking banter, he asks if there's anything else I need. I say no and anticipate him leaving to print out the cashier's check. Not so lucky. He asks me if I went to a wedding recently...um, excuse me? I respond No, should I have? (I'm a little sassy). My face begins to blush and get hot and that's not from embarrassment from him being able to see into my bank account. He points to the henna on my hand that I had done over the weekend. I explained that I got it done at my eyebrow place, which is Indian; but that I am familiar with the traditional custom of Indian brides getting henna done. He ends up half arguing with me about the traditional practice and that it is not just brides, but usually there is someone at the reception doing it for guests. I guess he's been to plenty of Indian weddings - he's got at least one up on my zero so I agree and hope to get things moving along. He then asks if the place I get my eyebrows done is Ziba's - why yes, it is...is this important in my banking transaction? I felt like we were playing 20 questions and I would only get my coveted cashier's check if I answered all of them correctly. He asks again if there is anything else he can do for me...um, nope, still good, just waiting for that check. Finally, he says the magic words - Let me go get that check for you. Thanks! While I stood there waiting I realized the teller next to me had helped at least two other people in the time I had spent with my teller. Oh, wait, here comes the check...yippee, I am out of here. He comes back and tries logging into his computer, typing a series of letters and numbers about 4 times before telling me he can't remember his password. He told me he likes to play around with it and change it a lot - apparently so much that he can't remember which one is the one of the day. I try to politely smile and take some pressure off him. He was getting nervous and fidgety and making too many excuses. I know I am a cute girl, but come on man, get yourself together - I'm not THAT cute. He grabs a slip of paper from his receipt machine and a pen and tells me he will be back. He proceeds to one of the desks towards the back and gets on the phone. Eventually he comes back, types in what must be the cryptic password and runs back to the phone to let them know he's made it in. At last, I get my check; but not without another inquisition to whether I need anything else (I think we are on number 5 at this point). He thanks me for my patience, which I respond with a smile and "It happens" and am on my way. Next month I think I'll wear a disguise with absolutely no sign of any type of flair and if he tries talking to me, I'm going to write on a piece of paper that I have laryngitis. This is exactly why I bank online.J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-3143973121802547752009-01-05T13:55:00.000-08:002009-01-05T14:23:04.421-08:00THE new yearI am back from my little hiatus (or vacation, if you will). It was quite enjoyable having a week of waking up at 9 am, reading in bed for a few hours or lounging around while deciding what to do with my day, then easing into it and usually not making it to bed until after 3am; but I will say it's nice to be back at work. I love staying home and doing things on my own time, but I need the structure and discipline. Which leads to me to my first topic of the year - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The New Year's Resolution</span>.....<div><br /></div><div>My first day back at the office and EVERYBODY is on their "New Diet Plan". I just keep saying "Of course you are". Choosing to start anew because of "The New Year" is great in theory, but come on...we all know that one's going to last about 3 weeks. If you haven't had the motivation to do it and stick to it any other month, why is January 2009 going to be so special? </div><div><br /></div><div>I especially love the fact that one of my co-workers brought a box of donuts to the office today - the one day that everyone is trying their hardest to maintain composure and keep the willpower up. I am definitely going to get into them - maybe about 3 pm, when my sugar level is low and I am going to enjoy the hell out of it. Don't get me wrong I'm doing my own crack-down, but I started it before the "New Year" and mine is not for the new year, per say, nor an absolutism. I am just trying to be more aware of my health - mental, physical, and emotional. </div><div><br /></div><div>My vacation left me plenty of time to think about where I am in life - it can be quiet living by yourself. I've made some decisions to start projects that I have been talking about for years, but haven't found the time to do. Finally, I am at a point where I am just going to have to make time...no matter what. The list is below (not necessarily in the order to be started or completed)....2009 is going to be busy. I can't wait!</div><div><br /></div><div>1. begin writing my memoirs - too many funny stories that need to get on paper</div><div>2. do more creative activities - going to start with an art class of some type</div><div>3. read at least 3 books a month - already gotten a great start</div><div>4. further myself scholastically - can't wait to start learning new things</div><div>5. spend at least an hour a day doing absolutely nothing and contemplating where I am for the day within the spectrum of my life - most likely will be in the bath, my favorite place to sit and think</div><div><br /></div></div>J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-85093882605096436482008-12-17T09:36:00.000-08:002008-12-17T09:54:59.095-08:00EX-masChristmas is upon us and with all the hype of the necessity of gift buying also comes the relentless advertising from all the jewelry companies. It starts of with the basic "Diamonds are Forever...show your love...blah blah blah...this CHRISTMAS season", but continues to "Show your girlfriend she means more to you this CHRISTMAS season...blah blah engagement rings...". What is it with Christmas and trying to guilt poor guys into thinking this is the time that you MUST propose marriage or profess your love? I understand the romantic capacity of the cold weather - lots of nights indoors trying to keep each other warm. Why guilt everyone else into your selfishness of trying to pack everything into one day. Getting engaged at Christmas is stealing the thunder and joy of the holidays from everyone else. We are all now obligated to ooohh and aaahhh the ring, ask to hear the story and all the details, and ask if you've thought of a date for the wedding. The holidays are stressful enough as it is. Now, I know I am a single girl, please don't take this as me being bitter about it, but I am not really wired like the average girl. I really hate the propaganda that advertising plays. It really does work - you hear the commercials enough and like Pavlov's dogs become conditioned to what they are telling you to do. I want to start hearing jewelry ads that say "Hey, make him your EX this CHRISTMAS, then you don't have to buy him a present and you can buy what you really want this year." J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-60111375479009289292008-12-11T16:34:00.000-08:002008-12-11T17:04:31.499-08:00Blue BallI went bowling last night...haven't done that in a while. I forgot how fun it is, you know, the whole process of it all. Getting those sweet shoes, picking out your ball, setting up the computer with the perfect alias, etc. I put a lot of time into picking my ball - I actually had ball-S - three to be exact. I make it a big point to check the color of my balls, feel the weight of my balls, examine the surface of my balls, make sure my fingers don't stick in my balls; overall just throughly get in there and examine; as it could cost me my whole game. I ended up with a turquoise one, neon yellow one, and a magenta one. I really wanted the neon yellow to be my lucky ball, but it was not having me. I ended up playing most of the game with the turquoise ball. I mean it is a derivative of blue (my favorite color)....it would only make sense that the blue ball would be the one to want me. We then ordered some beers, which is funny because as I drank more beer my game got much better. I started out the first game closing at a nice round 53...yes, that's a five and a three. Not a typo that I forgot the one. By my last game I broke one hundred - that was a huge accomplishment for me. I even got two strikes, but mostly lots of splits. What can I say...I'm a girl that likes a challenge. All in all a great night. I think I'm going to look into joining a league - my nickname can be J - The Blue Ball Looper. Off to make the shirts...J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863647599192990284.post-23075514607630021012008-12-08T10:10:00.000-08:002008-12-08T10:34:52.759-08:00ImpromptuFriday night I went out, despite my decision earlier to stay in and do laundry. I ended up running into an old friend that was planning on heading to Mammoth in the early morning hours. He asked if I wanted to go. Well, being the impromptu girl that I am, it was an excited YES! I left the bar upon closing (2 am) and ran home to pack. First thing I did upon entering my house was grab a beer, then find a bag and begin my drunken packing. I was given the time line of 1 hour. In the midst of my packing, my friend called and thought it would be a better idea to leave at 6 am. Needless to say, I woke up the next morning with my half-packed bag at the foot of my bed, board and boots by the front door, half drank beer on my dresser, and 2 missed calls from my friend. Not only had I passed out and missed his first call telling me he was ready to go, but the second message said he was out front of my house. I was so upset at myself for falling asleep, however realized it was probably better I did not go. As I unpacked my bag I realized the only things in it were my snowboarding pants, jacket, and about 5 sweaters. The weather in Mammoth was about 59 degree high with a 22 degree low - that would have been fun with 5 sweaters and no pants...J * Starhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05172606107723029474noreply@blogger.com0