Friday, June 30, 2006

...sphincter said what?

So we get this email from the CEO - November is OurBrandOfCancer Month, & so they do a huge fundraising & awareness campaign in October & Nov. Well, when we come back on the 5th, we're all having a staff meeting to brainstorm what our theme will be this year.

Then I read...

"The campaign this year will be simple and internet based."

Which may or may not have caused the company's Web Designer/Programmer/Project Manager/Jane Of All Internet Trades Except Porn (aka me) to say out loud, "...we're launching an internet-based campaign in two months? Did I miss a meeting?"

I think they forgot to run the logistics of this by someone...

::facepalm::

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

One day, I will have a moment to myself again.

...and I won't know what to do when that happens.

Granted, it won't be this week, or next week, or the month of July & part of August, but one day.

Or so I hear. ::sigh::

I need a less active brain, no need for sleep, & about another ten hours of productivity a day. This is LA - isn't there a doctor that can implant that? They can fake up everything else!

Friday, June 23, 2006

In 1829, Nantucket's William Rawson raised a turnip that weighed over 11 pounds.*

On the one hand, you gotta admit, that's a really big turnip.

On the other...I think this dude might need a more social hobby.

*Nantucket Nectar bottlecap fact of the day

Thursday, June 22, 2006

How many out of every four people are crazy?

I'm deleting the text msgs. on my phone, & realizing that between lawgeekgurl & SpecialK, I have two friends whose jobs quite often cause them to threaten to take their own lives.

Remind me not to let you two around any sharp objects when you come over....

Monday, June 19, 2006

the next time I get a flat tire, can I call you?

--> what you say to your friend when you discover they actually have the initials AAA - no joke.

In other news, I have eaten the following today:

• Bagel with cream cheese
• way too many mini-Twix(es)
• fruit salad
• sour cream & onion Pringles

Clearly, my life has no nutritional value. Thankfully, I have a sport where the coach assigns you an hour & a half of cardio three times a week, so we'll see if I can't make up for the damage I did today later on tonight.
---------

I am, for the first time in my life, slated to go boogie-boarding sometime this week. (I should really check the when of that. Hrm) One of my friends (yes, the one who I will probably call to change my tire) is in town & after the last time he was in town & got traumatized when he found out that I've lived in LA for almost four years & spent no significant time at the beach, requires me to go learn bodysurfing. Which is fine.

Until I realized I don't even own a swimsuit.

So there I am, sighing at the inevitable trauma of shopping, when I walk through Target & see... board shorts. Dude. Black board shorts & a sports bra, & Momma's got a new pair of metaphorical shoes!

As for how the Claris Trying Bodysurfing goes... I'm less optimistic.

Friday, June 16, 2006

Hey Criona, this is why the Blackberry can be dangerous.

Actual email from my sister:

Title: Flyboy (our brother)

Body:
I am going to kill him.

Flying to Florida now.


What? Huh? I wrote back, "Um, I need more exposition than that."

And I'm sure, knowing my family that really, that makes sense once we use the equation of:

Initial Freaking Out + Addendum Exposition = Actual Situation


After which I have been known to attempt to apply the related theorem of:


   Knowledge of Actual Situation
- Freaking Out(Wishing I Had the Authority to Medicate Relatives100)
+ Possible Solutions
Return to DefCon 2


----------

But for right now, for all I know, my sister is in an airport on her way to FL to physically harm my brother. Of course, knowing my brother's habits, that might not be the worst thing...if nothing else, it might cut back on my need for the use of behavioral algebra.

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Product of American society, thanks.

Description:
5'10" white girl from the Northeast, brown hair, blue eyes

Clothing:
black cargo capris, green baby-doll-ish T, black 40's style heels, little black bolero sweater - called "California pin-up chic" by fabulously gay neighbor & his partner (dunno why, but that description amuses me)

Music:
Head bobbing to "Jump Around" by House of Pain

Office reaction for the day:
exclamation of "What the fuck?" upon the discovery that our volunteer director decided to circumvent the marketing dept, went into our email blast system & sent out an email all on her own before leaving the office for NY - unfortunately, this brilliant maneuver has the wrong event date on it!
we'll know when R.S. Monkey gets around to catching up on her reading, because her gasp of horror when she reads that last sentence will be really audible.

Current mood:
::hand up:: Oh, let's just not even talk about it, people. Just. No. Don't go there.

All this in one package. Indeedy, it's a wonder I'm still single.

The Dark Side. I'm there. It's complete now.

This morning, G declared that I'd be rowing starboard for him for the forseeable future.

For the non-rowing people, lemme 'splain.

there are two sides in rowing - port(right) & starboard(not right - yes, R.S. Monkey, I said that on purpose. neener). A lot of people only row one side - it's kind of the equivalent of which hand you use to write with. If you can row both sides, it's a good skill, but not required.

However, I happen to have issues with overachievement. (no, really!) So when asked, I figured, hey, I box both right & left, I might as well learn to row that way too.

Now, that's not to say that I row starboard well. It means that I row well enough that when we're short a starboard rower, I can pinch hit. That was always the way I approached it. Much like the fact that Coach T & G can stand up in the coswain seat while the boat is moving, it's a neat little trick you can do in practice, but not really something you want to try in a race. And as R.S. Monkey has seen, I tend to get out of the boat on the days I row starboard & go, "Oh god I hope I don't have to do that again any time soon. ::sob!::"

Well today, I rowed starboard in the 8. And we sprinted. The word for this experience? FUUUUUUUUUCK. I can manage a distance starboard, but I've never rowed above a 24 stroke per minute rating - today kids, we took it up to 32/34. On a side I can't entirely manage!

So when the boat pulled into the dock, & G cavalierly declares, "Kathy, I like your body position better when you're rowing starboard than when you're rowing port. I think you're a starboard now." - I think my expression was akin to the day that R.S. Monkey was first told, "....and you're stroke." It's just that moment of, "Saywhatsorry?"

Meanwhile, behind me, Dspot laughs - she's a port who was forced to learn starboard last year so she could sit bow for the boat for Head of the Charles. Dspot informs me that G's been trying to turn her into a full time starboard for a year now... great.

::Sigh:: Dude. Between the sculling & the rowing both sides, I should just but stock in Johnson & Johnson...

Monday, June 12, 2006

Ah, Target. I should have something pithy to say about you, but really? I don't.

On Friday, CoWorker R & I, who get along well but do not see one another every day (possibly a conspiracy by the Powers That Be because we get along so well) realized that we were both wearing the same green t-shirt from Target. (Yes, the ones that are $8.99 & ridiculously comfy & you decided to just buy one every week when you got paid and eventually you have all the colors except the pink & the baby blue because you don't wear those colors? Those. Yuppers.) We laughed at one another, and went on our way.

Today, we are wearing the dark red v-neck shirts. hee. I warned her that tomorrow, I'm wearing green, and since I said it first, I had dibs.

Some might say that the two of us are simply two incredibly cheap people who happen to work in the same place & know enough not to give a shit about their appearances in this office. I choose to think of it as being two visionaries who have, by a quaint twist of fate, found one another in the expensive maelstrom that is Los Angeles.

Or, you know, it could just be that Target & Mossimo are making a mint off those damn tshirts. Toss up, really.
----------------

Meanwhile, back at the boathouse...

SpecialK & I got sent out in a double by ourselves on Sat am. Now, while SpecialK was the one that recruited me for the sport, she had to go & get tendonitis in both wrists right after I made it past Learn To Row, so we've only actually rowed together...once, and we'd never sculled together.

We did pretty good for about, oh... a lap & a half. Then we paused at the bottom of the marina near the breakwater so that SpecialK could take a hit off her inhaler (She's a Medical!) and after that, we just...we were so fucked. And not in the happy-fun way that Golden would have requested video of. This has brought us to the conclusion that we've got about a lap & a half quota of being left to our own devices before we should be separated for cracking own up shit up so much that we can't row. Because yeah. That turned out to be a problem.

Then came docking.

So there we were, just the two of us in this double, and just because of our timing in launching, we were just totally out of the traffic pattern - nobody around us the entire row. (Which, considering that towards the end we were making utter idiots of ourselves, was probably a good thing.)

But we get to the top of the marina, and all of a sudden it is effin' Grand Central Station. We see the Master's 8, the coach is talking, they're not moving... Okay, we'll just flip a bitch & cut in front of them to go across to our dock. So I turn the boat, we're horizontal to the traffic in the marina... I look over my shoulder just as we're about to row & go, "Shit, they're going to sprint!" which means us=BRAKES!
Turns out no, they weren't doing a proper sprint, they were just doing a sprint start...and they floated to a stop right in our course. fuck. so we wait for them to get moving again, all the while sitting horizontal in the marina. They leave, we book it across to be able to back in to dock, and suddenly there's a 4 & another 8 coming up, and hey! Look, it's one of our club's quads next to us! Have I mentioned that SpecialK isn't a skilled sculler & I've only bowed a boat where the only person I could potentially kill was me? Yeah, needless to say, this was going great.

So after what was possibly the most spastic steering job I have ever performed (and if you can't tell by the comments Megdalen & I made in the last post, for a New England driver to make that assertion means it was kinda nerve-wracking) SpecialK & I are parallel to the dock, and two of the Weekend Rowers are standing on the dock. The two of us are trying to reach for the dock, but we're like, three inches away from being able to reach it & pull ourselves in. These two are watching us try to grab the dock going, "Oh, you've totally got it!" Uh, no - if I "had it" my ass would already be out of the boat! ;)

We were standing in the boathouse afterwards talking about it & PK comes up & asks us how our row was - which I think may have been because he was in a launch while SpecialK & I were performing our combat landing & wanted to make sure we weren't, you know... high. I explain that once we get past my port lean, SpecialK's separating her hands, & our general tendency to act like idiots, we should be fine... oh, and we'll have to learn to dock. Very important, that last one.

SpecialK suspects that they were trying us out to see if they could race us together. I fear for the results. ;)

Monday, June 05, 2006

who ARE you & why are you SO FREAKIN DUMB?

Today's subj line brought to you by one of my sister's favorite things to yell while driving on 93 & 95 South. If you don't know why, that's all right. I know Megdalen understands.

So... I wrote this list.

It was a very simple list that was in an email which (i'm not kidding) began with the sentence:
Since there seems to be some confusion about what the details of the event are and where we are in the online setup process, I've made a list of what I've been able to keep track of so far...." rah rah corporateSpeak after that

There were then the parts of the email titled:

1. In-Process
which, as you may have guessed, was a numbered outline of the steps so far, and a notation as to what the status of them were

2. Done
Guess what parts I listed here.

3. Source material still needed.
Go on, you know you wanna take a crack at what this part is about.

And yet, someone still walked up to my desk and said, "So, I saw your email, & I'm just wondering exactly what it is you need from me."

::blink::

That? ::points at the above line:: was literally my response. It was a full half-minute before I could respond, I was so taken aback. Ralph Wiggam at the height of his glue-eating day could understand that list. But I was good. I stopped, and I pulled up the email, and I actually pointed to the color coded sections & explained, "the list. I need what's on that list."

"ahhhhh." and then they retreated.

Seriously, I can't make this shit up.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Define..."dismay"

dis·may:
1. To destroy the courage or resolution of by exciting dread or apprehension.
2. To cause to lose enthusiasm; disillusion: was dismayed to learn that her favorite dancer used drugs.
3. To upset or alarm.
or....

4. The moment you realize that the set of things that you THOUGHT were canvas drawers from IKEA were actually the frame, & you still have to go back to buy the drawers if you want to get your closet in order.

dammit!

eta: Luckily, my neighbor Maggie made this better by depositing a glass of red wine in my hand and telling me that as long as I had something to wear to work for Monday, I could probably leave my laundry until tomorrow. After half of her generously-sized glass of red wine, I'm thinking she's right. ::sigh::

Saturday, June 03, 2006

because sometimes, I'm bendy.

As I stood in my bathroom this morning & applied sunscreen so I won't be burned to a crisp this morning at practice, it occurred to me that hey, maybe that yoga shit actually helps. any female that's attempted to put on suntan lotion in the sections of your shoulders not covered by a racerback bra will, I'm sure, be able to make the mental picture of what I just did. ;)