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."
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
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!"
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!"
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, March 14, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
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.
"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.
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