Not my people

I'll never forget the moment I really started to understand what the phrase "these are not my people" means. I was standing around with 3 coworkers and two were talking about going to Mammoth, as in Mammoth Mountain, as in snow and exercising outdoors. They paused at one point in the middle of their gushing about Mammoth to ask "What is the highway you take into Mammoth again? It's been so long..." and I looked at the other coworker who hadn't said a word since the beginning of the conversation and we both shrugged: Our people do not vacation in Mammoth. We take road trips and make things. While you are discovering the freshest snow, we are discovering the freshest pies. No judgement, it's just not our thing.

Lately I feel like I've been joining a lot of organizations that are filled with people who are not mine. Loud and lazy volunteer club, sorority-infused women's networking group etc. When we meet I want to be focused on what you're saying and the work we're doing and not on how meticulous your eye makeup is and how many times you've pretended not to hear someone calling your name for help with something heavy.

Maybe I've just become more of a hermit or maybe I'm displeased with the fact that these people, the ones I have a hard time getting motivated to being around, are the ones who will get me my next job. I feel like I'm not listening to my heart when I agree to spend more time with them but I also feel like I need to commit to these programs so I can truly decide if it's for me or not. I usually approach these situations like I did dating: we meet, I don't care for you, I don't try to force it, a second date is never set. But now I feel like I'm an adult and I will always have to work with people I don't care for so, might as well give it a try.

I met with someone from the sorority-infused women's networking group this morning who let me know our next conference call would be during my vacation - the only vacation I will likely take this year. I said "oh darn, I'll be out..." and she replied "CALL IN! Lots of people call in during vacation and travel because it's not really work!"

REALLY? The only time I've had off of work AND school since August of 2010 you're going to tell me that I should totally spend an hour plus talking about hot topics affecting women in the public sector? No offense...but I plan to be at Disneyland.

Little does she know how hard it was to even get excited about meeting and that I purposely dressed a little weird (business casual weird?) so she'd get the hint that I'm not her people. But maybe I sort of am?

Released into the wild

Upon commenting to my BFF that finals are over and that I now feel like a caged tiger released into the wild, I was sent an email with the subject: "Is this you?" and the following photo:
 

It's good to have friends.

Medjool Dates are the new Sno-Cones

I like writing about my embarrassing moments. Not because I like reliving them but because I feel like a lot of the time we're all working to look like we've never peed or pants or made mistakes or done something weird and that maybe my sharing will make everyone want to share too. Because let's face it, f-ups are funny.

My story begins in the summer of 2004 when I was a junior at UCI. I moved directly from the equivalent of a sorority house (mine was co-ed for those in my major) to an apartment on-campus. Filled with social awkwardness and the anxiety that my previous living situation was less than zesty, my mom took me to sign in and set up my room.

As we checked in the girl behind the table exclaimed "HEY! We're in the same building!!!" To which I replied:
"I have a sno-cone machine; you should come over and we can have sno-cones."
I forget her reply but I'm sure she was confused and likely had a moment of reflection wherein she reminded herself to stay FAR away from me and avoid me when she saw me approach the building we unfortunately shared.

I have never lived this moment down and my mom and Todd still remind me of it now and again. To me, friendship is about sharing. I like being able to help someone find a new dentist or to feed people or to bring someone a little token I know they'll appreciate.

I've tried to forget it but a couple nights ago I was on the other end of the awkwardness. I went to a mixer after turning in my term paper and met some very nice women in a sister program. We chatted, I think there were 6 of us. At the end of the mixer this girl points at me and a professor and exclaims "HEY! You two should come get dates! I'll bring them in at 4 tomorrow!"

It was....adorable. Totally socially awkward but filled with the love of wanting to share and make new friendships. Her parents own a date farm and she often is sent back to school with lots of organic, fresh, amazing medjool dates. I have a feeling we'll be fast friends.

Turn off the idiot box

You likely won't hear me talk much about what my political views are. Not becasue I don't have any but because I feel, like religion, it's personal and I certainly don't want to hear about yours. I am more interested in POLICY than I am in politics. The policy of taking care of the elderly is not a partisan issue, thank you very much. But I digress...

My boss forwarded this weekly email to me from PR land and I quite enjoy it and will be subscribing soon. Last week had a feature on common grammar mistakes and this week had a feature on Fox News. I realize saying 'here is a dig at Fox News' is akin to sharing my political views but it's worth it in this case.

From http://www.prdaily.com/Main/Articles/10128.aspx:

Study: Fox News viewers know less than people who don’t watch the news

By Michael Sebastian | Posted: November 22, 2011

Fox News viewers are ill-informed.

That’s the gist of the PublicMind poll from Fairleigh Dickinson University, which found that Fox News viewers know less about certain current events than people who don’t watch the news at all.

According the study, Fox News viewers were 18 points less likely to know that Egyptians overthrew their government than those who don’t watch TV news. People who watch Fox News were also six points less likely to know Syrians have not yet overthrown their government.

Fairleigh Dickinson polled more than 600 adult residents of New Jersey and accounted for education and partisanship.

"Because of the controls for partisanship, we know these results are not just driven by Republicans or other groups being more likely to watch Fox News," said Dan Cassino, a professor of political science at Fairleigh Dickinson and an analyst for the PublicMind Poll. "Rather, the results show us that there is something about watching Fox News that leads people to do worse on these questions than those who don’t watch any news at all."

Charles Seife, a journalist and New York University professor, tweeted his skepticism of the poll (in two parts):
“Latest ‘Fox News makes you stupid’ poll is deeply flawed. Tiny sample size, “esp. subdivided …and the poll's measure of ‘well informed’ has leftist bias.”

He also noted that Fox News viewers scored higher than NPR listeners on a question about which Republican candidate is leading in the polls.

NPR listeners, according to the study, are among the best-informed news consumers, along with those who read daily newspapers, such as USA Today and The New York Times, and, to the greatest extent, those who watch Sunday morning news programs.

Speaking of NPR, former Poynter blogger Jim Romenesko uncovered some statistics about listeners of the radio network, although the data don’t shed light on those listeners’ knowledge of current events.

Here are a few examples, which Romenesko credits to the @nprresearch Twitter feed:

• NPR News listeners were 94 percent more likely to have signed a petition in the past 12 month.
• 15 percent of its listeners view their cell phone as an extension of their personality.
• They’re 108 percent more likely than the average adult to go to live theater.
• They’re 42 percent more likely to drive a car with a manual transmission.

For more on NPR stats, visit JimRomenesko.com. To read the entire PublicMinds poll, click here.
---------

I thought many of you might enjoy this and it makes me wonder how well those who read fake news sites (Onion News Network) or watch fake news shows (Daily Show/Colbert Report) do in comparison to the Fox crowd. If in doubt about which network to watch, it seems just avoiding the news all together is your best bet.

A-choo!

I'm usually a 3-sneezer and I always know when they're coming. The most common triggers are smoke and perfume. Once those things crawl up there, it's all over.

So, sitting in the super nice echo-y busines building last week, I could feel them coming on. And instead of holding them in and feeling like I ate a canary, I let them fly: "1!-2!-3!" sneezes. While I'm sneezing I notice a well-dressed gentleman sitting across from me holding up a finger for each sneeze. Each time I sneeze he adds a finger and counts out loud "one! two! three!" and I realize the sounds of his counting are muffled.

A deaf man counted my sneezes because, why not?

There is a special place in hell for women who don't help other women.

I don't think there's much else to say about that. Thank you, Ms. Albright, for putting that so very succinctly.

Anxiety through the roof, anger off the charts, will bite if provoked.

PG version of a drunk dial

Last night, in a sugary haze of pixie stix and emergen-c, I posted on facebook. I posted about a gripe of mine: when people come to work sick. There is this lady in my department who's been HACKING for a week and it really bugs me. Part of it is an old-school mentality about our managers needing to see "butts in seats" and part of it is an incentive system we've developed that encourages people to come to work even when they're sick because they can "cash out" sick time at the end of the year.

So, last night before class I wrote something like:
"I've drank 3 glasses of water infused with Emergen-C not because I feel sick but because the lady (generous) who sits near me has been coughing like a seal. Now I feel like I can fly and like my face is purple. Maybe a cough wouldn't have been so bad."

In just three sentences I'd chastised a coworker for being sick and managed to insult her personally for not being "a lady."

This morning, right after I woke up, I remembered: I'd accepted her friend request on facebook a few months ago so there is a solid chance she saw my post.

I am truly a jerk.

Hot or not?

I received an email from my professor a few weeks ago asking if I'd like to join her at a conference about nonprofit-government partnerships. Of course I agreed! It was my flex day, what else would I be doing? She let me know a student organization on campus would even PAY for me to go if I sent them my address and some other information that is failing me now.

In any case, I was approved but the day of the conference was fast-approaching and I hadn't heard anything until, while in class, my phone rang while a group was giving a presentation. This doesn't sound like much but I was supposed to be in this group and bowed out when the one guy was a total d-bag about reading a paper. The professor asked, in a very over dramatic way, can someone please volunteer to..." BOOM! My hand was up before he could even finish! YES! I would love to switch groups! Please move me to economic development, something I have literally no interest in just to get me away from this guy. Ugh, and this guy, you would love him. Slicked back hair, laughs at everything the professor says, just a slick mofo. He looks like he would be an asshole.

So these lame-asses were presenting and my phone rang on FULL volume. Then I had to walk outta class because I saw the area code and knew it was coming from someone at school. My heels were loud on the linoleum, click-clack all the way through their presentation, but I answered the phone when I got outside and it was a British man. Huh?

Turns out he was processing my travel and needed my signature TODAY or else they wouldn't be able to pay me. Here is our conversation...

J: Hello?
Richard: Hello there. This is Richard Pierce. I am processing your travel arrangements and would very much like to meet up so that I may get your signature.
J: OK...where are you?
R: I work in the Center for Internships...but I can come to you! Where is your class?
J: Humanities
R: oh, hmmm, well.
J: I know where your office is, I can just meet you there...
R: Let's meet halfway!
J: How will I know who you are??
R: Well, I am wearing a white shirt with subtle stripes, black trousers and I am an average looking gentleman.I'll bring your paperwork right now!
J:...and a pen?
R: and a pen, yes!

Really? who describes themselves as "an average looking gentleman"? I walked downstairs and toward the building where his office is (literally two buildings away, not far) and spotted him in an instant even though 35,000 people go to this school. He looked awkward and shy and uncomfortable. I signed the papers and he asked if I knew where my professor was because she needed to sign her stuff too.

Turns out the professors like to sneak away to a bar off campus on Thursday afternoons after class is over so I asked him if he'd like me to call her to come sign.

R: Really? That would be wonderful!

Is this really that wonderful? It's just paperwork. What a weirdo.

Later I found out that he rushed over there so fast he brought her my paperwork and then he had to walk all the way back to campus and back again to the bar. I think this guy needs an assistant.

p.s. the conference was amazing, I took 15 pages of notes and decided on a policy paper topic which will include me having to call an assemblyman from LA who is a co-author.

Now, with less ulcers!

I looked back at my 30 before 30 and I was appalled. Why am I so set on pressuring myself? I decided I'd make a list of 5 things to do in the next 27 months (oh jeez, is that all the time there is until that birthday?)
1. Finish my masters in May 2013
2. Finish my wedding album
3. Create a spending plan
4. Pay my credit card debt off
5. Learn to drive stick

Here's my logic:
1. I'm going to finish my degree anyhow so might as well make it an official, written-down goal
2. I just bought a Shutterfly groupon that expires at the end of next month for motivation
3. I have a financial advisor that is counseling us pro-bono so might as well take advantage
4. Who wants that?
5. Seems like a safety thing since Todd refuses to buy automatic cars and if we're ever out and he twists his ankle or something...just seems like something I should really know how to do.

I can watch roller derby, pay other people to hem my pants and buy apple pies. No use in doing everything - isn't that an econ principle? Everyone benefits from specialization in a trade economy? I'll edit your grant application if you bake me a pie. Seems fair.

Sad.

I just feel like a lump of sad. If you google image search "lump of sad" you will get cartoons of children either sick or sad at their empty Christmas stockings, fat people, a sad football player, a sad snake, an engine, a man climbing into a fake plane, Jesus with a headache and something about the Tea Party freaks encouraging you to tea bag the liberal dems before they do it to you. It was more fruitful than I imagined.

I feel like quality control is slipping. I'm used to being a good employee and a great wife but now I'm an okay student, an okay employee and an okay wife. I feel like the products that get sent through the last quality control mechanism in the manufacturing process and that I've been turned to the sad pile of off-looking skittles and oddly shaped light bulbs, ready to be melted back down and try it all again. Maybe next time I'll be the right color and shape.

I can't remember if I've mentioned this but someone told me in May or so that I'd "lost my sparkle" and I totally feel it. I'm only really, super happy on the weekends. I am never excited to come to work. It all kinda feels like drudgery. The worst part: I can't tell you what I'd rather be doing. Maybe just doing school full-time? I don't think I'd be done any quicker. What about interning? Not sure I want to go backwards and start fresh. How about something creative? Well then why the heck am I getting a degree?

Until then, I'll just be a misshapen crayon.

To all the boys I've loved before...

I always thought the expression "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone" was silly when used in reference to relationships. I know exactly who's walking away: a big turd. Maybe that only works when you lose someone good...I don't know what that's like...haha.

Though I do think the phrase makes sense in reference to things. It might sound crazy, but if you think on it, you'll come up with that favorite pair of scissors you can't find or that Astronaut t-shirt you lost when you moved. Todd talks about a blanket he lost as a child like he lost it in Vietnam during a heated battle but I think it was just left at a hotel.

My mom and I had a flashback last night talking about a giant floating holiday island complete with drink holders and Santa Claus that used to grace their pool. She loaned what became lovingly known as "Aqua Santa" (he has a song, if you'd like to hear it...ask me) and that family broke it. The lady's name she loaned it to was Sarah and when she said that I remembered my childhood friend Sarah who I loaned my mom's Guess? jean shorts to and never got back. She was SO MAD at me and now I understand why.

I got into a little fender bender three weeks ago today. It was my fault, I'll spare the details, let's just say I was distracted (NOT on a cell phone, don't worry). I had to take my car into a shop that took a long time, not because they sucked, they are METICULOUS. But when I got Kikuki (yes, that's her name, she's 100% Japanese) back today, that phrase made sense.

Kikuki is a bright red 2007 Honda Fit sport. She is bright and zippy and sweet. I LOVE that car. It's my first new car, the first car I've ever bought all on my own; it's the car we rely on for road trips, the car that gets me to work and school, the car that has NEVER had any maintenance issues. I LOVE that car. I seriously got a little teary just getting back in the driver's seat.

I've been renting a Dodge Avenger and it was pretty lame. It was big and felt maybe safer than my car - like if someone hit me I might not notice because it was so freaking huge. Todd had been calling it "The Great White Buffalo" and I think that nickname fit. But when I got back in Kikuki I was so happy; I'd missed her! She is so sporty and fun - that car totally suits me and to think, I had been flirting briefly with the idea of getting a newer new car. Shame on me! Can you forgive me, Kikuki?

The Bank of Boobies

School started this week and on Wednesday night I met my friend Sam for a quick dinner. I got in line to pay for a libation and there was a guy walking around stirring chili in a square bucket. Another guy in the line in front of me was pushing coins painstakingly across the counter, looking worried.

As a "do-gooder" I said "Do you need a quarter or two?" and he looked up at me and said "Yes, I'm short."

No problem! I hand a quarter to him and he hands it to the cashier who informs him he's still 3 cents short...so he looks at my wallet, then my boobs, I hand him a nickel. He hands it to the cashier who hands him two cents, which he puts in his pocket.

It occurs to me he has a cognitive disability as he proceeds to stare at my chest and say "That was really nice of you....do I owe you anything?"

Nope.

Blissful Weekend in Paradise

I am lucky to be married to my best friend and we are lucky to travel so well together. This weekend, in the grand tradtion of E&Lee, we took a road trip to San Diego.

Friday we headed down after lunch and played music, let the weekend sink in. We stayed at Hillcrest House and were fed by Ann every morning and given lots of great advice about where to eat, what to do etc. We will stay in the Old Town room from now on - private entrance, giant closet, beautiful room, secluded patio - check, check, check, check!

We checked in there and headed over to Balboa Park. We love Balboa Park. I wanted to get married there but it was stupid expensive. We park behind the Fleet and kill some time before our dinner reservation. Waling around, I am approached by a woman with a giant white bird that she sits on my hand. I was mesmerized. And a little scared. I stood awkwardly while the woman introduced me to Pheobe and all I could say was "WELL THEN Pheobe, I'd like to tell you that we are vegetarians and don't eat any of your relatives...you're pretty." I remained calm and even pet the bird. I gave $5 toward their bird rescue efforts.

We indulge at Prado Restaurant. We had adult libations (pom margarita for me, Irish mule for the old man) and ate til we were absolutely ill. Then it was off to the Ruben H. Fleet for the IMAX movie Wild California. We are distracted by a grandpa there with his two grandsons who are, shall I say, willful? One notable moment occured when the older boy removed his sandals and rubbed his hideous feet all over the glass in front of him. Adorable. Note to self whenever I feel like I want to be a mother, go to a children's museum. End note.

Then it was off to Babycakes for dessert. Carrot cake pleeeease! We were exhausted from all the food so we went back to the HH and crashed.

We awaken early to the smell of coffee and muffins. After eating some granola, fruit and tiny blueberry muffins we head on over to Tiki Oasis to see the car show and look at the vendors. some good, clean, free fun was had by all. I found this fabric for the dining room chairs and ran into Filthy Rotten Wes of KUCI fame.

Then over to the Marsten House and a tour, which made me want to build a giant house on several acres and become a wealthy philantropist. Someday, right?We then headed to Crest Cafe, our favorite diner. What up eggs florentine? What up giant veggie burger? Nothing? That's what I thought.

Then it was back to the nest to get ready for the zoo. We always elect to partcipate in Nightime Zoo @ San Diego Zoo because its cooler and means less people (read: children). We saw a million animals including but not limited to: capybaras, hyraxes, bear cats, all sorts of mokeys and birds, flamingos, Malaysian tiger, hippo, meerkats, zebras, polar bears, elephants (the new elephant enclosure is amazing). We were so excited about animals we upgraded our tickets to annual passes and will be back ASAP.

Then, back to the hotel and a short walk to Hillcrest. We ate a late dinner at Bombay on 5th street. Then it was off to Taang Records where we bought 2 "new" records: Simon & Garfunkel and Velvet Underground on vinyl. The salesperon was EXTREMELY helpful. We just missed our favorite used bookstore Bluestocking Books which closed while we were at Taang. Then, back to Babycakes for a LEMON BAVARIAN cupcake to share.

On Sunday we woke up, more coffee, more granola, more muffins. Dressed and ready, we headed out for the day after getting wonderful hugs from Ann. That place is seriously my favorite. Then back to Tiki Oasis to see my boyfriend Charles Phoenix. He did a "South of the Border" themed slide show that took the darn house down. We sat with Miss Kaye and got hugs from Charles who wore a white linen suit that had various Tijuana paraphenalia spray painted on it in neon colors. Amazing.

I got 1/2 way though "The Help" and found some peace. If I can find the camera, I will post a few photos. This weekend made me want to pack up the gang and move to SD.

Poi Tacos!

Just got this invite:

YOU ARE INVITED

To a

MEXICAN LUAU

What does that mean? Pineapple tamales?

STOP RAISING TUITION

Since I started at CSU last Fall, my tuition has been raised 3 times and this fall is the highest: 12%. (This will translate to about $200).

The email I received this morning stated:
"On July 12, 2011, the California State University Board of Trustees voted to increase to increase Fall 2011 tuition fees by an additional 12%. These fee increases will be posted to CSUF student accounts beginning July 22, 2011."

I can't help but wonder if the 12% was decided on the 12th for a reason, like, they couldn't come up with something better and one of them yelled "hey! today's the 12th! how about 12%" and then they all shook their heads in agreement at what an inspired meeting they'd had. Oh, and surprise, the costs are going up one month before school starts. As with almost everything I've experienced at the university, it's ALL last minute.

Last semester I received a notice 10 days before class started that I could be dropped from my classes if I didn't provide proof of some immunizations. Well, my parents live in another state and God only knows where that paperwork is. So I had to be REIMMUNIZED. Which, I totally hate. I put as few chemicals and foreign substances into my body as possible, thank you.

I was feeling (not surprisingly) overwhemled when school began so I thought it might be a good idea to get a counselor as I'd done in undergrad at UCI. When I tried to go to the health center for counseling I was told the first visit has to be Mon-Wed between 8-noon. No after-work hours are available so I never went.

I was notified I needed to take a prerequisite too late to register before school began last fall so instead of either taking this summer off or taking care of it before school began so I could take other classes, I had to take it this summer.

This all sounds pretty bleak but the real reason I go there are the professors. They are dedicated to the students, period. They meet with you before class, after class, during office hours, they take calls, emails, they Skype, they give out their contact information so you can ask them about work projects, they support and assist us in ways that go FAR BEYOND their meager salaries. And the president of our university, well, he's gotten raises the last two years.

So yes, I will pay the 12% increase, I have to. But I don't have to like it. I'd like it if my 12% increase went to my professors. I'd GLADLY fork over an extra $200 for them.

30 before 30

A working list of all things I want to do in the next 2 1/2 years. I saw a friend post one on her blog and it seemed like a good plan. However, I can't come up with 25-30. Any suggestions? (Please don't say have a baby, that's AFTER all this...) It might not all happen before 30 but hey, at least I'm thinking about it.

1.    Get a masters degree

2.    Publish a short story

3.    Publish a paper in a nationally-recognized journal

4.    Run a half marathon

5.    Go to Europe with Todd for at least 2 weeks

6.    Get to a healthy weight and maintain it

7.    Finish my wedding album

8.    Adopt a puppy

9.    Get promoted to manager

10. Get on a nonprofit board

11. Present at a conference

12. Get accepted to the PA honor society

13. Sing karaoke

14. Perform stand-up

15. Try roller derby

16. Learn to screenprint

17. Learn to make crepes like my grandpa

18. Bake an apple pie from scratch

19. Create a spending plan

20. Put old photos into albums
21. Save for a house

22. Volunteer with Todd
23. Pay off all credit card debt
24. Learn to Sew
25. Learn to drive stick

26. Pay one persons' way each week (could be dinner, could be lunch, could be the toll for the car behind me)

27.

28.

29.

30.

The Bear

Todd's nickname is the bear because, well, he hibernates and likes to eat and can run in sprints but not for any distance and often knocks stuff over unaware of his elbows (are bears aware of their elbows?). The bulk of his bear-ness is apparent in our bathroom. Don't worry, nothing disgusting...

Three or four weeks ago I went to use my foot scrubby thing and when I picked it up, it shattered. Come to find out it had been neatly placed back in one piece after the bear shattered it while showering. Instead of telling me, he let me think it was all my fault.

The next week he had enough of our no-slip mat and tore it off the floor and threw it to the back of the shower like a dead animal pelt. When I asked about it, apparently it was slippery and he hated it, so he killed it.

Then, the week after that he came to me after his shower all worried holding my face scrubby thing. "It....I....when I was....it just....fell through the bars....and broke...."

But the bear is always forgiven for his poor house manners because of his large heart. He was so wonderful and supportive at Nicole's wedding last weekend (a post on that once I can gather some photos). He drove Nini and I to Del Taco at 1am, let us take over the room whenever we needed it, brought back-up drinks, danced, and DID NOT COMPLAIN ONCE about how freaking hot it was - this is of interest given that he is an Irish Cheese Bear and they must be cool at all points in time or else they suffer hot naps and prickly heat - two things that will send a bear into rages.

At one point during the wedding day I came to drop something off in our room and take a breather from maid of honor duties and I found him with our thermostat set to 65 degrees, draped over the bed wearing a cardigan and plaid shorts, a glass of whiskey in his hand, watching Man vs. Wild.

And then today he sent me flowers to work. Bears are the most thoughtful of animals and Irish Cheese Bears are the most romantic of bears.

Sacajawea

My knowledge of American History is shoddy at best. It's embarrassing and every once in a while I ask a question about history that makes my husband look at me like a dog watching tv. The ultimate example of this was a couple years ago, while we were cleaning out a trunk in his aunt's house, I picked up a Sacajawea dollar coin and said "Sacajawea...didn't she, like, help the Pilgrims or something??" Todd will never let me live this down but he always lets me off the hook a little by reminding me I was tired.

I was wathcing a tv show the other day and a character on the show was asked when WW2 was. His answer was late 60s-early 70s. I will admit I feel a little better.

Then, we played Cash Cab with Todd's mom and I think Sacajawea has been erased for a while and now Todd can feel embarrassed for a change. I asked his mom a question that was something like 'what sentiment do you get when pointing your middle and ring finger downwards and the rest of your fingers outwards?' This is admittedly a terribly worded question but if you put your hand in a high five and point the ring and middle finger down, you get I love you in American Sign Language.

I enjoyed watching as Todd yelled at his mom that she was doing it the wrong way and then asked me "In what language?" Uh...the language of love?

A Late Father's Day Musing

I was listening to NPR this morning on the way to work and a little vignette made me cry. Story Corps is a project where NPR is recording little exchanges between family members. Today's was a father and his adopted daughter and it made me cry. You can listen to it or read the story here. The girl was a hoot, completely precocious and adorable. Her father was silly and at the same time, tender.

I feel like I've always been called by adoption and I think part of that might be my rationalization of it in my own life. To me, when you are adopted that means you are wholly wanted. A person or a couple make a conscious decision to bring you into their lives, love you, care for you. There is no accident in adoption.

Don't get me wrong, I was WANTED by my mom, my grandma, my grandpa, my great-granny, but there is still a part of me that knows I was not totally wanted by my biological father and I forgive him this.

My biological father helped make me and for that I'm grateful but there are not a lot of other nice things I can say about him. When I talk about my dad, I'm referring always to my stepdad who wanted me more than the man who helped give me life. And that is a precious gift. I love you, dad.

Please hold your compliments

While shoe shopping one day with Todd we ran into friends of ours: A lady I work with, let's call her Christine, and her pseduo-adopted daughter. The daughter, let's call her Maya, was trying on boots. She had several boxes in front of her and I suggested a pair that both I and Christine's other daguhter have and like.

She tried them on, we thought they looked cute, then she tried on other pairs. now, if you know me, you know I am not subtle. I was taught to keep my opinion to myself unless someone asked me for it and when people ask me, I usually make srue they really want it before I respond.

So, in true Bean fashion I belt out over the aisle "Those are not good - they look like cat feet!"

....They were the shoes she'd worn in, the shoes she owned already.

OOPS.

Just a couple-a kids

I feel too young to be married and too old to be young. That's confusing, I know, but there's truth in there. And it always makes me laugh when I am feeling my most grown-up is when little things remind me that Todd and I are both just big kids.

My dear friend Neddy and I have been training to run a 5K. It's hard to start running when you are decidedly not a runner. First, I have the boobs that skip a generation in my family (sorry mom) and running with boobs is...awkward (read: 2 sports bras). Next, I am not fond of sweat or the sun. I get all red and blotchy and sun burnt...much like that awful baby thing I told you about last time. It's not pretty.

We just ran our 5K on Saturday morning and we did really well, I was so proud of us. About 2/3 of the way through I was EXHAUSTED, really hot and then I looked up and said "KITTYYYYY!" while pointing at a cat I saw on top of its carpeted perch two stories up in a very posh house overlooking the ocean. Woosh, flash back to childhood, pointing out every cat and dog I could find. Todd and I actually do that all the time. When we lived with Kyle we'd take walks and report back to him every night how many cats we saw and how many we touched. Mostly we did it to annoy him because he was not so much an animal lover as an animal tolerator, but Todd's mom tells me that Todd has also loved animals since before he could talk as well.

This past weekend I was stressing out (surprise) about the Vegas trip for Nini's bachelorette - "I HAVE NO CLOTHES TO WEAR!!!" So Todd, wonderful husband that he is, took me EVERYWHERE to find stuff and after leaving Old Navy at 8:55pm or so he asked if we could stop at Toys-R-Us. I said sure but that they would undoubtedly be closed. They weren't! Turns out TRU is open until 11pm on Fridays and 10pm on Saturdays and I swear we ended up spending at least 40 minutes there. Todd took pictures of inaccurate Star Wars dioramas and sent them to his brother, I looked at how much better girls toys are now and we both just reveled in toys. I nearly bought a ball to play 4-square.

A couple weeks ago I was buying a hello kitty bag unearthed from that Target $1 bin and the cashier asked me "Do you have kids at home?" "....No...." "Don't worry, you're not the first adult to like Hello Kitty." Then he launched into a discussion of the video game Halo and how he thought they should make a Hello Kitty planet and call it Halo Kitty...this went on too long...

...but a couple weeks later when Todd found the toy he was looking for I joked that he better be ready for the cashier to ask if we have kids. He remarked that it felt a little like buying 4 (yes, FOUR) Star Wars toys was like buying condoms so he put them in the middle of the Target run between the paper towels and the ketchup. I thought to myself later though, buying 4 (yes, FOUR) Star Wars toys at almost-30 was the exact opposite of buying condoms :)

FREE BABY!

I was an ugly newborn. Pink, vaguely mole-rat-looking, splotchy, just ugly. So when I see really cute babies, I swoon. And, let's be real: African American babies are the cutest of all. Right around 3 years old is best. Right when they're really chatting and they still have chunky baby features.

We went to a friend's graduation party this weekend and I met and fell in love with Dallas. He had a foam sword that he carried around and tried to slay everyone with. He found me and tried to kill me and then I chased him for about an hour. I taught him the acting skill of fake dying. That was amusing. Then we went to leave.

Me: Dallas, do you want to come live with us?
Him: No!
Me: Please?
Him: OK

Then we were talking to his mom:

Me: Your son is adorable. I asked him if he'd come with me but he said no.
Mom: Dallas, do you want to go home with them?
Him: Yes. I'm brining my sword.
Mom: OK
Him: Where's my jacket???

Be careful what you wish for! Like a teen mom, I hadn't thought of what life with a 3-year-old might be like so I'm glad his mom decided to keep him. I felt like I had to sneak out, betraying the little fella.

Behold: The Cryptic Reconnect

As Nicole says, I get all the good stuff.

It used to be every Christmas or so during college when old boyfriends, realizing they were back home, alone, would feel compelled to contact me. "Hey....it's been so long....what are you up to?" (Read: Are you seeing anyone??). I say this with no ego, it just used to happen.

And now, with the advent of facebook, the trend continues. Now that I'm older it's more with old friends. Remember the girl I FORCED to go to the health center to get a pregnancy test after unprotected sex with her boyfriend who refused to speak to me after that? Well, we're facebook friends now!

So today, when I checked facebook and had the most cryptic message from someone with 2 friends, no photo and a fake name, I was freaked out. I at first thought it was spam but then the details of the message were so clear and real that I was left in a "do I know you?" moment.

Message from: FAKE NAME
Title: My name is not FAKE NAME
Message text: I do recall however, enjoying a film with you and "I haaaaaaate it" one, Punch Drunk Love, and then being assaulted by an angry woman Bible. See if that jogs the old noodle! Dana Point representin!
.....

What the what?

So I just wrote back: Am I supposed to guess who you are?

Of course, it turned out to be a friend I didn't mind reconnecting with who does amazing charity work and lives on the other side of the planet. No implied creepy booty call.

It's funny how reconnects like this take you back. The night he was talking about, my BFF and another girl I'd been trying to befriend went to his house to watch that movie. The other girl was a nutty Holy Roller and used to be SO MAD if anything was said that was anything but Christly. That night we drove home and she refused to speak to Nicole and I. She ended up dating the best friend of my old boyfriend who was a real jerk, karma rules.

Todd told me: You know too many people. When you only know 4 people, you can be certain that crap is spam.

Nicole, of course, guessed the mystery person on the first try.

In sum, if you want to be my friend, just call me or email me. I am actually quite nice.

oh dear Jesus

So. Bloody. Overwhelmed.

I spent a good hour last night sobbing about how overwhelmed I feel. There's really nothing more pathetic than a grown woman driving and crying. I obviously knew these two weeks would be difficult, but I don't think I planned for how awful I'd actually feel.

I feel like I'm not doing anything well. I keep skipping out on my exercise plan, the apartment is a horror film mess, I'm behind in reading for one class and have a giant paper looming, I thought I was on the right track in the other class and turns out my paper is terrible and nowhere near completion, I'd tried to finish something early so the professor could look at that but we didn't get to it because of how awful my other assignment was, I haven't gotten anything together for mother's day, I haven't paid any of the bills, it's just a  sad state of affairs over here.

I'll get through it, I always do but it's more painful than usual. Thank god for Todd. And for the cats. Buggy just sat next to me and told me a million stories while I pet her. Last night, during the pathetic crying jag, Todd took my shoes off while I lay face down on the bed sobbing like a child and helped me into some pajamas. What a mess.

As a pallate cleanser, please enjoy the following article from my favorite author about his view on education. I have a brain crush on Dave Eggers and wish I was running 836 Valencia. DREAM Job.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/01/opinion/01eggers.html?_r=1&hp

Bad Squirrel!

In the above photo you will find my youngest fur child doing something very naughty. She loves the fridge magnets and we thought moving them to the top of the fridge would be a deterrent. Here are the texts from Todd and I regarding this incident:

From Todd: Walked in the door and saw this happening. Busted.
Me: Bad squirrel! Bad! What was she after?
Todd: It looks like she was after the Hungry Girl Cookbook

The next day, at work, I emailed this photo to some of my friends. As many of you know, Todd and I are vegetarians but we're not crazy. We won't force you to eat tofu or make you feel guilty for ordering a hamburger and we definitely don't force our carniverous children to "go veg!"

So the reply that one my friend sent made me laugh so terribly hard. From the incredible Miss B:
"I think she was desperately, and in vain, looking for a meat and fish cookbook."

Mrs. D goes to Sacramento

I know it was all a sham, but I love Sacramento.

I once told my favorite professor that my greatest regret is that I was never able to participate in the UCDC internship program. For those unaware, this is where for 6 or 8 weeks you spend a summer in Washington DC working for a senator, congressman or some federal agency. It's CRAZY expensive and who has 8 weeks off work anyhow? Anyway, it was never in the cards for me but I had another opportunity presented to go along with a faculty union in California to lobby on behalf of higher education and I jumped.

Todd asked me when I told him about it "Are you going??" and I didn't even need to reply. Are you kidding???! Who gets the opportunity to tell people with power, face-to-face, that education is important and that my colleagues are having to drop out because of tuition skyrocketing, classes not being offered, and myriad other pressures?

I flew up and back in the same day with student and union reps and sat in front of assemblymen and assemblywomen to tell them about 3 bills that will help make public universities in California whole again. I was on a team of 5 - 3 students, 2 faculty and we had 5 appointments with various legislators in our district. Though I doubt they will all vote in our favor, they do, by and large, understand the importance of education but not in the way that the average CSUF student does. They come from wealthy families who financed their educations and one even said "My daughter is paying these fees right now too, well, I guess I'm paying these fees..." Ya, that's what I thought.

They don't know the pressure of working full-time while you're going to school, they don't know the anxiety of surprise tuition increases two weeks before the semester begins, they don't know what it's like to pay $1600 a month for a decent apartment, they don't know what it's like to have to give things up in order to get an education. But they do now. They heard it directly from the students and the educators.

And oh my god, the professors. While the Chancellor's salary has increased 66% since 1998, the professors have seen cost of living increases about 1/3 that proportion. The number of faculty is steady and, as more students are admitted, fewer classes are offered, larger class sizes, more papers to grade, more office hours, more assisting students find resources and so on. These professors are the best professors I've ever had and they deserve equitable pay.

Anyway, it was magical. I bought a booklet from the capital building that is like a yearbook of California legislators with their names, schools, political affiliations etc. I know, super nerd. I met a man on the plane home who lobbies for K-12 schools and he told me to watch out, lobbying is addicting and I believe it. I'm already signed up for next year's lobby day :)

Where is my bubble?

Sinus Infection #2,789 began on Friday night. I am so sick of these things, I could puke. I went to the walk-in on Sunday. I hate going to the doctor but I thought you were supposed to go within two days of feeling crappy but that is apparently not true for sinus infections, just the flu. 

Please see below for my prescribed regimen:
1. take an allergy pill every night
2. sinus spray every night
3. nasal rinse twice a day (in the shower in the morning, before bed)
4. 2-4 tabs every morning and night of pseudophedrine
5. if I know I'm going to be anywhere near something that affects my allergies like sitting in grass, being around smoke etc, I'm to take an ADDITIONAL allergy med like Allegra or Claritin

Most of you who know me know that I deal with things by joking. I hate being sick so instead of being pathetic and crying and feeling sorry for myself I asked the doctor if this regimen was in lieu of being put in a giant hamster ball. The doctor laughed, a little. Todd and I debriefed later about how we couldn't tell if the doctor was pissed at me or was joking too.

ANYWAY, back to the regimen: Now, I'm not a doctor but this seems like a lot, right? I was up from 3:30-4:30am this morning talking to the cats in a total fugue state but I'm not nearly as sick as I was yesterday and I'm at work so this stuff must be working, right?

It just seems...like a lot. I also kinda feel cracked out, but in a good way. More like "there's work to be done!" and not like Jessie from Saved By The Bell "I'm so excited...I'm so..." crash. I'm a little sweaty like I'm having premature hot flashes too. I'm worried I'm going to dry out.

If someone could just swing by around 2pm to make sure I haven't shriveled up, that'd be great.

Bloods or Crips?

Almost every morning Todd and I leave for work at the same time. We get in our cars, drive out of our complex together and then part ways as I get on the freeway.

Today was of particular interest because as we were leaving, he was pointing frantically so I pointed frantically back until I realized he was directing my attention to a duck waddling down our sidewalk. You can't help but be happy when you see a duck waddle, seriously.

But then I saw him do something strange: it looked like he was tying a bandana around his head...like he was about to go shake some banks down for cash. I will admit that part of me was relieved that our money worries were over but then I realized I'm a "steward of public funds" and, well, it'd just be wrong.

So I called him and this is our conversation:
Me: Hi honey!
Todd: Hi!
Me: Did that duck make you happy?
Todd: Yeah
Me: Honey?
Todd: Yeah?
Me: Are you in a gang?
Todd: No....
Me: Are you tying a bandana around your head?
Todd: No, just my neck.
Me: Why?
Todd: So my hair lies flatter.

I guess I can just be grateful it wasn't a dew rag and that he'll take it off when he gets to work.

Information, 5cents

I get asked questions all the time, from perfect strangers; it's hereditary. Last week Todd and I were walking at the Tustin Marketplace and a woman screeched over to us in her car with her blind mother in the passenger seat and asked "Excuse me honey?! Do you know where there's a Payless Shoe Source around here?!" I of course did and directed the woman to the Payless. "You'll want to head out of this parking lot, make a left..." etc. Todd gave me the knowing look that only someone whose been shopping with me as many times as he has can give; the 'it's-always-you' look.

That same week a woman asked me in an aisle at Dollar Tree if the markers she had in her hands would work on t-shirts. "No, those aren't fabric markers. I think they'd bleed and then just wash right out." She seemed satisfied with my answer and I told her to go to Michael's in Orange.

This past Saturday night I went out with some girlfriends and this man approached me out of the 5 of us to inquire about the relationship status of one of the girls. Here's the exchange:
Him: Hey, is your friend single???
Me: Which one?
Him: The Asian one over there.
Me: No, sorry
Him: Oh, so she has a boyfriend?
Me: Yes, they've been together a long time, it's not even worth trying
Him: Do they live together?
Me: Yes
Him: Oh. Then they should get married.
Me: I'll let her know...
Then we had a very nice conversation about him being a Marine and having driven in from Twentynine Palms. He and the friends that were with him that night will be deployed in June to Afghanistan for 6 months. I wished him well, thanked him, told him to be safe. He seemed satisfied with that even though his dream girl was taken.

My favorite stranger accost of all time happened at the Target in Santa Ana. After paying for my items and leaving the store, I was literally chased by a British couple "Excuse me, Miss! Excuse me!" I don't normally turn around but I turned when it was getting louder and more frantic: "Yes?" "Do you know where we can get some discount luggage??" Of course I did and wrote out directions and a little map. They'd apparently lost their minds at Disneyland and had a ton of stuffed animals they needed to ship back to the United Kingdom.

I'm not sure if it's my glasses or if I look like I know where I'm going or perhaps I look friendly? I wish I could poll people but I'm not sure they'd even know if I asked them why they came to me. People think glasses make you look smart so maybe that makes sense but my mom says I scowl so I assume a 5'11" woman with a scowl isn't the person you'd be drawn to to ask for things. But it never fails, in a big crowd of 100 people, I will be the one drawing you directions to the closest puppy parlor so you can take your poodle in for a good shearing.

Zeus is a God

My husband has hair trauma. Whenever I tell him his hair's getting long, he either tells me like a defiant 5-year-old "no it's not" or he shoots me a pained look and launches into a several-day-long internet search to find a good hairstyle. He emerges and presents me with a photo of how he would like his hair to look.

I know what you're thinking: 'But Jessica, you never went to beauty school, you have a degree in Social Ecology and a minor in Digital Media and though I have no clue what those things mean, I am fairly sure they have nothing to do with hair'. And you're absolutely right. I once dyed a boyfriend's hair black and I'd once dyed mine purple but that ends my experience with hair.

But this exile into the world of hair is my own fault.

One week before graduating from college, I hauled Todd to the Paul Mitchell School of Beauty so we could both get our hair done. I was totally broke, working at a food bank and trying to finish out the damn year so we couldn't go somewhere fancy. He was just getting a haircut and I was getting a cut and color.

We sat in the waiting room and saw some really great hair walk out of the store. I was called first and told the two girls who were consulting with me that I wanted "dark blonde". They seemed to understand English and what that hair color might be and walked away to mix color only to come back and each take one side of my hair. It turned out dark BRUNETTE and was patchy since the girls were likely new. I was not excited but it was like $30 for a cut and color and I though 'Oh well, I'll figure it out'.

But poor Todd...oh. It pains me to think of it even now. Todd got the call that Zeus would be cutting his hair. Zeus was a latin man (using the word "man" generously here) with Robert Smith hair that was raven black with hot pink streaks, painted nails and what can only be referred to as "excessive flair". He started Todd off with a 45 minute hot oil scalp massage. Yes, 45 minutes. Then he proceeded to butcher Todd's wonderful hair. And I mean BUTCHER. It took 3 hours and when we finally got to the car, I started crying.

"I'm sorry...it's just...you look like....a lesbian mom!"

Ever since then, I've been Todd's hair dresser. It's not such a bad gig since he usually pays me in craft supplies and I do surprisingly well for having absolutely no experience whatsoever. We also get a good kick when he throws the hair I've cut off the balcony and it looks like a shredded muskrat on our sidewalk. But I'm getting nervous. Nini's wedding is in July and last month he declared he'd be growing his hair out. I generally like his hair short and I know there will be a million photos happening in a very short amount of time. It's become a little mullet-esque. But hey, if it makes him happy and he's not having to party with Zeus, what do I care?

Pissing on graves

I am not interested in being well known for being an idiot. I don't want for the expression "you really pulled a Jessica today" to mean that I told a joke about having less than 10 fingers to a woman with 7 fingers. Oops. Please feel free to reflect back on the incident from several weeks ago where I pretended to be royalty being greeted by my fans upon returning from work to realize they were escorting a sick coworker out on a stretcher....

But every once in a while, I say something or do something that embarrasses me and compels me to grasp for the giant erase button.

I saw a photo posted on facebook of a boring building with the title "The Pentagon." Knowing the person who posted it works in a military-esque function, I posted back "That place looks like a blast!" with a little facebook heart: <3, so endearing.

She then posted the following:
"That's a memorial for all the lives lost in 9/11"

.....


Oh.


Why didn't you say that in the first place?


To be fair, it didn't look anything like a memorial. It looked like a government-crafted skatepark outside of the Pentagon. Oh. Ouch. Reading it hurts.

Lucky for me, facebook actually does have an erase button. It's like it never happened. It was only in Internetland for less than a day.

Todd's reaction: "That's pretty bad. Sorry for you."

Woe is me

I'm having a "feel sorry for myself" kind of morning. Cried a little on my way to work, just feeling tired and run down. When I got here, I heated up a whole grain waffle and put some agave nectar on it and sliced a banana on top of that and it was delicious. While cooking it I thought I'd check on my coworkers and say good morning since I'll be in a 4-HOUR MEETING from 9-1, during lunch.

Me: Good morning!
Female Coworker: Good morning Miss Jessica!
Male Coworker: What's wrong with your coat?
Me: .......Nothing...?
Male Coworker: Oh, it looks dirty...there's hair all over it.
Female Coworker: She has cats!

This is the nicest coat I have :(

In other news, I would like to go home now.

I know I said I wouldn't gossip but....

This morning, Princess I-can't-share offered me a St. Patrick's Day cupcake...well, to say she offered it, I mean she walked into my office, plopped a napkin down, and set a cupcake on top of it while someone was in my cube talking to me.

I politely declined.

Her response: "YOU MEAN I WOKE UP AT 5AM AND YOU'RE NOT EVEN GOING TO EAT THIS?"

Mine: "Yes, that is what I mean. Thanks!"

Marriage as a means of grounding you to reality

Antiquing is in my blood. So it's only natural that I like the show American Pickers and luckily for me, there are usually enough "man cave" items featured that Todd will watch it with me.

Last night we were watching a rerun of the show where they visit a man named Ron. I am fascinated by people and Todd could see me processing what I was seeing on tv. And this is the conversation that followed:

Me: So, like, at some point....this man is mentally ill, right?
Todd: No Bean, he's just a man who's been digging an underground cave since he was 14 years old who likes to collect junk in his lair. Nothing strange there.
Then we laughed so hard we cried. Mostly because I must really be surrounded by mental illness to consider this man even questionably sane.

Then a prediction that he would probably die in there ensued and then we decided it was such a creepy crawlspace, and it'd be so hard to get his body out of there, that likely they'd just seal it off and let that be his creepy tomb because, you know, he likely would have wanted it that way.

This is why I don't watch "Hoarders"....Please see below for a picture of mental stability.

Rant about Women

I went to Ulta this weekend with the husband to finally purchase something Nini and I had both been obsessing about: a cone-shaped curling iron. It creates luscious wavy curls and I'd gone in there THREE TIMES to buy the one Nini recommended. Anyway, I snagged it along with some other beauty accoutremont and got in line.

Ugh, the line was long. But no bother, Todd and I gingerly sniffed each of the Ulta lotion testers and decided vanilla almost always smells like weird chocolate. Then, this woman at the very front of the line did something that made my stomach turn. She started in on one of the ladies at the counter. "Um, excuse me, can we hurry this along a little? Can you see there's a long line behind you?" long enough for all the people at the counter and in line to hear. She then continued to the girls behind her: "Ugh, did you not think to at least match when you came to Ulta?" and the girl behind her replied: "I was thinking that too!" as this woman at the counter embarrassingly checks out and walks away. Then, the mean lady proceeds to check out and says to the girl checking the poorly dressed woman out: "I feel so sorry for you!" and she smiles sheepishly like 'I know, right?'

The staff did nothing. There were managers behind the counter. The people in line just agreed with the mean lady and some even helped her make fun of the woman. It was disgusting. Then the mean lady took forever to check out because of a return she had to make and I was thisclose to calling her ass out. But then I stopped. I'm not going to teach this stupid woman a lesson. She has $500 boots on and a LV purse and drove off in a brand new Mercedes Bens - she's already being punished by her awful stereotype so I figured, 'let it go.'

It's just so disappointing that women do that to one another. And I'm not excusing myself from that, I'm not above that, I've certainly never humilated a woman in front of 15 others, but I could do better. I could be less catty, I could gossip less.

Cheaters

I can recall two times since my parents have been married that my mom has been informed that my dad is cheating on her.

The first, I was 14. That would mean my brother was 11. 11-year-old boys know close to nothing except how to eat and get dirty. My mom was in her room folding laundry and, in our old house, the laundry room was upstairs next to the bedrooms. My brother came whipping in, breathless, asking my mom to sit down. "Mom....I....Dad...is.....cheating on you!" My mom, never one to jump to conclusions, knowing my father would never cheat, said "What are you talking about?" Justin then led her to the laundry room and pointed to, horror of horrors, my thong underwear. I'd just been to my first school dance and I needed some more "creative" underwear than the granny-size, heart-covered panties I'd been sporting. My mom laughed and explained that I was becoming a woman.

The second time was maybe 5 or 6 years ago. I was home for Christmas and the whole family was at a casino. I didn't have my phone so I borrowed my dad's and noticed he had a grip of text messages. My dad just isn't phone-savvy and I figured I'd delete them for him since he likely didn't know how to. I noticed one though that scared me. Dad's on the road a lot and the media tells us that it would be totally conceivable for my dad to have another family in Texas, so I panicked when I saw a text that read "I love you, it's snowing". I ran around that casino and handed the phone to my mom who, as always, laughed at us and told me it was from his business partner and that his business partner's wife's name is Jan...my dad is Jack...he just didn't scroll far down enough.

Sorry dad - we believe you.

Getting married

Whenever you share a life event with coworkers, friends, family, you get the weirdest comments from the masses. When I came to work and told people I'd gotten engaged, I got some really great ones.

"He's not Mexican, is he?"
[This woman was in a really ugly divorce from a man who was...you guessed it]

"THE LORD HAS BLESSED YOU"
[From a woman I'd never spoken to who'd sadly just lost her husband]

"OH MY GOSH! Are you going to have kids?"
[From someone who loved their freaking kids]

One time when I had some good news to share a coworker told another coworker: "Jess has some exciting news to share!" and the other coworker replied: "ARE YOU PREGNANT?!?" At first, I was furious. How dare you! I know I gained some weight but jeeeeez. Then I put it in perspective. She was trying to adopt and desperately wanted to be a mom.

Ir's just a good reminder for me for when people say crazy shit, it is almost always not about me.

The big kids are scary

I hate to be rude, but something ironic struck me on the front page of my university's website. There was a picture of our University President standing regally at a pulpit in a church (this is not my issue) and the caption said something like President Gordon will talk to congregants at a church in Norwalk (also not my issue) to encourage early planning for college.

It made me feel like I go to school at Studio 54. Please don't tell more people to come here! It's freaking packed. It's hard to park for night classes and the buildings are falling apart. Please don't tell more people that college is awesome - they know it's awesome and there are a million people here already!

It got me thinking about how weird it is to market something people already like, like Coke. Coke spends probably millions, maybe more, on advertising every year but people already like them. The thing that's different about Coke though is that if more people like them and buy their product, the can decide to spend more on ads, they can expand. CSUF CAN'T expand. There is no more cash to throw at this problem so please, I beg of you, stop telling people that college is awesome.

Last night we talked with other students who were further along in the program than my cohort and it sounds like we got here at the right time. They regaled us with stories about that one summer when all classes were cancelled and how they can't get the classes they want and end up having to stay on for extra YEARS waiting for the class to come around again. All the newbs just sat there feeling awkward. At the end of the discussion I raised my hand and said "You have heard quite a bit from the students who are well into the program but many of us in this section have remained quiet...we are new and perhaps feel like we don't have enough perspective to offer our opinions but we've gotten the classes we want and are actually quite happy..."  Afterwards, everyone kept telling me "Thanks for sticking up for us, Jess!" Just call me Jessica Chavez.

We reported back to our professor the big kids were mean and intimidating. One person from my program asked if "bitter" was a requirement to enter the program previously. Such unhappy kittens!

Earlier in the day when we were speaking as a captive audience about the program we talked a little bit about wishing there was a nonprofit concentration. This one dude who's been in the program a longer time attacked me after lunch asking "what exactly will you get from a nonprofit concentration that you can't get from the other concentrations?" When I said, well, off the top of my head, the title but I needed time to really consider how to answer that question he gawked at me and said "Well...I'll be speaking with DR. Hanson about this!" Also, please note, Dr. Hanson is not a doctor. This guy was just a kiss-ass.

He's in the program and about to graduate, what does he care what I want? How does that affect him? Is he jealous about the prospect of someone getting what they want after a seemingly uphill battle in his time in the program? Jesus. I just like nonprofits and I don't like Criminal Justice, Finance and HR. I might take Urban Management but it sounds like there are a lot of GIS classes and that scares me.

All I know is that I got an A on my first semester paper and I'm not one to roll over so stay tuned for the moment when I announce they're offering a nonprofit concentration :)

Dino tooth!

It's only Monday night and this week is already shaping up to be funny. In one day I've laughed so hard I cried TWICE.

As you're aware, I'm now forced to try and whisper whenever I take a phone call at work on account of you-know-who so today when my mom called I was literally laughing so hard I was crying but not making any noise. Dad is getting better but taking cough syrup with Codeine and, well, Dad isn't good at  drugs. He sorta freaks out. Last night my mom said that he sat straight up, in the middle of the night, and starting feeling around the bed for something. When my mom asked what it was he answered: "I'm looking for my dinosaur tooth!" Comedy. I can picture my mom, exhausted, sick, confused, and laughing so hard she's having to hold her belly.

I cried from laughing a second time tonight when, in bed working on a big project due in a couple weeks, Todd got into bed next to me with a piece of re-heated pizza. It was dead quiet in the room except for the sound of me typing and the sound of him pushing the pizza around its little takeout box a million times. Todd is a patient man in all realms of life except food. If he makes something to eat, he wants it now if not sooner so this little noise of him pushing the pizza around the box, impatiently waiting for it to cool enough to put in his bear trap just caught me off guard and made me laugh really hard. Even more funny: half of the damn pizza was cold so he could have eaten it much sooner than he had.

I laughed with my boss today, with coworkers, at lunch with Laura, at dinner with friends, and at home with my sweetheart. I feel like a lucky woman to be able to laugh so much.

Magazine Chicken

I've opened this blog about 100 times in the last twenty-four hours but I couldn't figure out what I could say until I got some good news.

Yesterday my dad was feeling sick and my mom took him to the walk-in. They were told he had pneumonia and potentially a blood clot in his lungs and told him he needed to go to the emergency room. After 8 hours in the ER, dad was admitted. It's been up and down -pneumonia, no pnemonia, no blood clot, infections, no infection, heart murmur, no heart murmur and so on and so forth, as we got info from the hospital staff. Suffice to say, they concluded it was viral bronchitis and sent the old man home with antibiotics this afternoon.

After talking to my mom at 7am this morning, she told me the doctor would be in around 11am our time to give a clearer diagnosis so I did busy work until I couldn't stand it anymore and I called the hospital. My dad picked up and this is the conversation we had:

Dad: Hello?
Me: Dad! You answered! You sound really good!
Dad: Ya, I feel better...I wish you could see what they delivered for lunch...
Me: What is it?
Dad: It's the whitest chicken I've ever seen...it smells weird....like magazines.
[sound of my mother laughing hysterically in the background]
Me: It smells like magazines?
Dad: Ya...I told that nurse, I want a grilled ham and cheese!

Somehow, my dad always gets the hookups. Ever since I was little I remember my dad wheeling and dealing and bringing home things for free (please recall the toilet paper he brought home that I "decorated" his office with). And even now when he's sick, he's able to convince nurses to bring him treats.

I talked to my mom a little after that, she was still laughing. Apparently the nurse brought her a chef salad to eat while my dad enjoyed his grilled ham and cheese. Unfortunately they just delivered another platter of white magazine-flavored chicken. Poor dad.

They are on their way home now. I do not come from a patient people so I can just see them panicked, trying to flag nurses down to get the hell out of there. I just have this mental picture of dad in a hospital gown and cowboy boots, ready to book it!

So, here's to my pops, love you and I'm glad you're feeling better and on your way home!

Picasso maybe?

I was sick for a full week but am finally back in the land of the living. Good lord, so much sickness. I missed an entire week of work and school and spent a lot of quality time with the cats - they don't mind when I'm sick.

So, I finally felt better on Friday night and we walked to get dinner which meant WAY over-doing-it and getting in bed at 7pm. Saturday, again, a little better. Saturday night we drove to Mangia Bene in south county to celebrate my brother-in-law's acceptance as a JAG for the National Guard. We are SUPER proud.

On the way back from dinner, Todd realized he needed gas so we of course had to do this major trek to find the exact gas station that he wanted. You see, he is a car control freak and has to fill up his car at the same stations all the time to ensure that his data is tracked properly. What data, you ask? The data he inputs into an online database that calculates his fuel economy for the car, of course!

So we stop at one of his "approved" stations and the light of good fortune shines upon me. There, across the gas station as I sit waiting for Todd to pump gas, is a masterpiece. Perched atop the gas station's trash bin is this little beauty:

I saw it and asked Todd to grab it and he wouldn't because it's sorta pervy, right? So I threw trash out and then snagged it (I have a habit of stealing public art, but more on that later). It smelled like someone spilled a little coffee on it and it made me picture this family who'd picked it up at an auction who decided to trash it when they spilled the coffee on it but left it displayed at the Chevron on Alton, just in case someone with an eye for art wanted it. I know what you're thinking, 'who's birthday is next?' because you desperately wish you were the owner of this little piece of heaven.

You are looking at a ceramic tile that is approximately 12x8. There are three naked ladies with snakes coming from their hair and a creepy woman haunting them with her hang-y boobs. In the right of the ceramic, there is a large black spaghetti squash which I'm assuming that's where these ladies came from. Behind the boob lady are three ghostly haunts and one man peeks from behind the background in the upper-right of the ceramic.

I am going to ask my mom if she'll go with me to Antiques Roadshow because I totally need a tempurpedic bed and have no emotional attachment to this thing. It's not signed but it has to be a lost Picasso or something? Perhaps from his lesser-known awkward nude period?

Little Princess I-Can't-Share

I have a new "neighbor" at work who sits in what I like to call "the convertible cube" across from me. A first impression would lead you to believe she is a sweet lady, like a nice grandma who bakes and tells stories. She sells Mary Kay in her free time and likes to decorate for every holiday, bringing cheer to the department.

But lurking just below this angelic shell is a poisonous core - be not fooled!

One day someone was having computer issues and, temporarily and at the prompting of the department manager, they sat at her desk. Now, she is a temporary, part-time employee, but anyone within earshot would have sworn the CEO had been asked to move her office to the women's restroom. After receiving the verbal beating of a lifetime, the employee slunk back to her desk away from Princess I-Can't-Share.

A friend once told me that this person, let's call her Margaret, berated her for being a smoker. I'm not personally big on smoke, it gives me a headache, but whatever, to each his own. My friend, upon returning from a cigarette break had this exchange:
Margaret: Was that you smoking outside?
Friend: Ya....
Margaret: Oh. Well do you have a boyfriend?
Friend: Yes...?
Margaret: Well why don't you ask him how he likes kissing an ashtray!!!!!!

Other words have been exchanged, I've heard her launch character attacks on supervisors, patronize clients and sass like nobody's business but what we all came in to this morning was confusing on a new level.

On the top of an unused portion of her desk sits a tiny wicker table with two tiny wicker chairs. Atop the tiny table is, to my best guess, a 1980s-era Cabbage Patch Kids plastic tea set.

Everyone in the department is freaked out. We all keep asking when the teddy bears will come. I'm worried they are just ghost teddy bears and they're staring at me all day.

Emergen-J

After returning from a very fun lunch with some of my favorite coworkers, I rode the elevator up to my floor and felt rejuveated, gleeful even. I hopped on, pressed the button for my floor and stepped off to a lobby full of people. I saw friends, coworkers, service people and I, being the dramatic woman that I am, raised my hands and exclaimed: "WONDERFUL! YOU'VE ALL MADE IT TO GREET ME UPON MY RETURN FROM LUNCH!"

Everyone chuckled, but then I realized that one lady was frantically flipping through her cell phone, one gentleman looked upset, and....

...coming at my left side, at top speed, was a woman on a stretcher. They were gathered because a coworker had fallen ill and was not responding, going in and out of consciousness.

I turned the corner and ran down the hall to my desk, hoping no one would remember what an idiot I am.

Over and back and forward

26 is over,
break is over,
vacation is over,
back to work,
back to school,
back to reading and homework and papers and organizational analyses and everything else,
back on Weight Watchers,
back in session,
back to basics,
forward to lunches,
forward to fun,
forward to Todd's 30th,
forward to Nico's wedding,
forward to moving and to moving up.

Bookface

Todd and I met on MySpace, through a friend. I likely would not have agreed to meet him but we had a mutual friend and it seemed like a good idea to have a friend grounded in reality, away from the phony internet.

When asked how I met Todd, I reluctantly tell people that we met online. I think I waited a year to tell my family how we really met. 6 years ago, it was cause for concern for my family who assumed only serial killers are online, waiting to prey on girls like me. Plus, I'd had a cousin get in a creepy online relationship and so therefore all online love was forbidden. Now, I think 1 in 5 marriages begins online so it's old hat and no one really blinks an eye.

Then Facebook came around and, at first, you had to be a college student (or at least someone with an email address from a school so it was this funny mix of college students and creeps who worked on campus). It was started by a college student, for other college students and when it was exclusive it was fun, like a sexy online nightclub.

...Then it got awkward when we were all told it would be open to all and that potential employers would check your facebook to check if you're a horrific drunk.

...Then it got fun again when family could join.

But the law of unintended consequences came into play when this happened. The wikipedia page of this concept has a fun picture of the Australian outback with a rabbit-made gully after rabbits were released for hunting purposes. Those rabbits tore shit up and now the release for hunting has had a perverse effect on the ecology of Australia, which no one ever thought of.

Anyway, it's funny when your mom becomes friends with your old roomate who is 110% dude and likes to post totally inappropriate things but it's even funnier when your grandma befriends him and he has to pull you aside at a party where Four Loko is being consumed (not by me) and Screamo is being played (I'm not going to link to Captain Ahab but if you really want to know, you can google it) to tell you that he accepted your grandma's request but had to put her on limited profile access, you know, because of the stuff he posts.

...Then it continues to be funny because your grandma treats facebook like twitter. She signs on, drops a bomb, then signs out and just lets her friends try and figure out if something is terribly wrong. An example would be yesterday's post where she basically said "let's go on an adventure", in a matter of words. It sounded like a drunk confession and then my second grade teacher agreed to join her on her psychotic journey. It's entertaining as hell. One of her friends posted "You live in an exciting world, don't you Carol?"

...Then it gets awkward again though because a lady who retired from my place of business tried to friend request me and I don't want to be friends. Don't get my wrong, there is nothing I have to hide. Anyone who looks at my facebook will not be assaulted with language and drunk photos...though in some pictures I am drinking, responsibly. She is old and records albums and shouldn't. She retired a long time ago and people still make fun of her. Someone in my new department brought her album as a white elephant gift with a $5 pasted to it. It was a little funny because it was so cheesy but it made me so sad. If she knew anyone was making fun of her, it would break her little heart.

So, I say, do as you would in the real world. Befriend who you are friends with, avoid those who you wouldn't go to lunch with, post only what you'd want people to know and go about your happy real-world life. Spend as little time as possible on facebook because if you spend a lot of time there, you will only be navigating awkward conversations with retired christian songwriters and your grandma.