I knew he was smart

College boys are smart.

Good show, Anoop.

Just 10 more weeks, dude. You can do it.

I wonder

Is the magic of Idol gone?

I'm watching Idolatry on EW.com and it's making me think about conspiracies, and also making me bitter that Idol will never be the same again, and hasn't been good for years.

Noooo! AMERICA votes.

Please?

Feeling the need to get defensive

I'm certain it's because of the day of the month.

Gross, I'm sure, and probably too much information for you but I mean, don't say I didn't warn you.

I've had more than a few people give me crap about picking Anoop as my winner in my Idol pool. Now, unless you are in a pool and are actually being asked, 13 weeks out, who YOU think is going to win it all, I don't want to even HEAR your nonsense. Because that means you have no idea of the pressure involved here, or of the DAILY ribbing I receive from several sources because of the FACT that I picked Anoop Desai to win it all.

All you haters can go and fuck yourselves.

What would you prefer?

I pick Ms. Danny-"my tongue is always outside of my mouth and I have a gagillion pairs of glasses that probably aren't even prescription while I milk the fact that I am a widower"-Gokey to win the big prize? Even if that happens, or that is what I think will happen, I cannot even let myself put anywhere down on a written record that I actually endorse such a thing. I would rather lose.

Or would you rather I pick Ms. Adam - "I have gross acne scared skin but I really know how to use my straightening iron while wearing low neck V tee's and could I be ANY GAYER" - Lambert?? HUH? HUUUH???!?!

Or maybe, oh I don't know, Lil Rounds? Would you like me to pick her, even though she's not as good a singer but much nicer to look at than Fantasia would ALREADY WON?

DO YOU WANT THESE THINGS FOR US??

No. I can't do it. I want you to honestly look at that list of what I had to choose from last week and tell me that you wouldn't have done the same thing in my shoes. LOOK AT IT!

I'm sorry I told you all to fuck yourselves. Really apologize about that. Anoop is probably going to be voted off this week and I'm visibly upset.

I DID warn you.

Coast to Coast

What is UP?

Today I returned from my nearly two week long trip across these great United States. From California to Massachusetts, I spanned the country with my dearest friend. It was amazing, glorious, hilarious and, well, stirring.

Now I am BACK and ready to talk Idol, bitches!!

As previously mentioned, I am in a pool this year, to bet and win money.

While on the trip, I had to choose my top 8 from season 8. This is the order,counting up from first plact (Number 1 takes it all) to number 8 (the 6th person to be voted off), that I think the contests will be voted off of Idol. (For those not in the know, there were 13 finalists this year):

1 Anoop Desai
2 Danny Gokey
3 Lil Rounds
4 Adam Lambert
5 Scott MacIntyre
6 Allison Iraheta
7 Michael Sarver
8 Alexis Grace

Now, if you're paying attention, you know that last night we went from 13 to 11. You will also know that Anoop, my choice to win it all, was in the bottom two male contestants.

Was I nervous? Yes!! I was planning on sticking a washcloth in my mouth, throwing on a pair of cutoffs, and crying in the shower if Anoop was kicked off. Think of the mortification!?!

However, this does not bode well. The odds are not in my favor for him to win. Very few people ever put in the bottom two go on to win the whole deal. I can't think of any, actually.

Hmph.

Let's hope things go better next week. I wish I had to his phone number so I could tell him to pick a better song, stupid!

two out of three is actually kind of good, right? I take a swim in the Idol Pool.

So I just re read my post from Idol the other night and was pretty impressed to see that I got two out of the three, first set of performing Top 12 performers OR the first three of the Top 12.

Confused? Well that just means you aren't paying attention to things I care about. Shame on you! You need to do that otherwise this shit will not be at all entertaining. Come now.

In my defense, if I had known that one of the three to go through HAD to be a girl (sigh, it makes complete sense now, how could I not have seen this??), I would have picked the girl to be Alexis. If I'm being 100% honest, I really thought Anoop would go through no matter what, Anoop and Danny Gokey, I thought those two were for sure.

At any rate, I'm really feeling good about being able to place high in this Idol pool I've joined. It's very exciting, and I'm kind of getting into trash talking on the board because I've been right about a lot so far. And plus these guys I'm in the pool with are just a bunch of frat head idiots who are trying to mask being obsessed with Idol by pretending it's all about the gambling. PAHleeease. There are so many other more masculine things you can GAMBLE on dudes! Why Idol, hmmm?

Yeah, as I was saying.

Most of the guys who post on the pool board are total pigs. And oh! apparently you can also justify watching Idol as a guy if you talk about how hot the ladies on the show are, or aren't.

Just admit it, dudes! YOU LIKE AMERICAN IDOL. Just accept it so we can all stop pretending. It's so annoying for the rest of us.

Idol, Live Again

So for a while, I didn't have a computer at home. But that only explains some of the reason why you haven't heard from me in over a month.

To be honest, things are really good and I didn't have anything to whine about. And my blog is mostly about whining and complaining. Let's be honest.

All that changes right now. Nothing can get me worked up quite like Idol.

The format is all different this year and it's really messing up my flow. Also, I've joined a pool this year. I don't usually gamble, but if there is one thing I will gamble on, it's Idol.

The format is all f-ed up, and you can totally tell from this first live show. No one knows what the hell is going on and everyone is running into each other. Tapes aren't running, what a hot mess. It's almost refreshing to see that they don't have their shit together, but unsettling at the same time.

The run down:

Jackie: I liked Jackie, I really did. But we know you're a goof ball, so how about you sing for us?

Ricky: Super talented, totally forgettable.

Alexis: You're good, but America will not understand young child + pink hair.

Brent: Ugh, shut up. No one cares that you want to be a country star.

Stevie: Tragic, tragic performance. Ugh I actually feel bad for her.

Anoop: WTF, man?? Why did you pick such a LAME song? I'll vote for you because I know you are soooo much better. Simon is even pissed. I know it!

Casey: I work at a tea shop and have hair extensions. Don't try to sing Sting, little girl. It will bite you every time. Put a fork in it!! SHE'S DONE.

Michael Sarver: I've loved this guy from the beginning. He's one of my early picks. I don't like his shirt.

Ann Marie: I'm very uninspired. You can see in her eyes that she knows she's done.

Steve Fowler: I'm not sure he deserved a second chance. What is up with these song choices!??! holy crap awfulness.

Tatiana: She can sing, but she's such a mess on a personal level. She'll make a fantastic telenovela star, though. That is really what she should do. I'll write her a letter.

Danny Gokey: Dead wife guy!! I'm not sure why he sang Maria Carey, but it worked in parts. I just hope he doesn't peek too early, Archuleta style.

Three will make it.

My hope: Anoop, Michael Sarver, Danny Gokey.

*fingers crossed*

Idol is back bwaaaaaaaaaah!

Yep, it's true. It's already that time of year again.

I have yet to form my feelings on Idol this year, but I did join a pool. The new Judge seems sassy and smart so perhaps that will hold my interest...

Who am I kidding? I'll be obsessed as always.

Anyway, it's too early to report on much. These first couple weeks are for all the people who watch Idol for the bad singers. I'm in it for the quality, obviously.

So

The holidays weren't *too* bad (see post before last). But then, the day after New Year's day, my office was flooded and I haven't been handling the aftermath too well. In fact, I haven't handled much well in the last 11 days, and it's quite unsettling.

What's funny about this is that I should be able to take my own advice here. And here's why: Not too long ago, I told a dear friend who had just come through a difficult crisis not to beat herself up so much. This was after she told me she didn't think she handled it as well as she could have.

As is typical, I am incapable of taking my own advice.

I am uncomfortable not being stable rock. Quite uncomfortable.

Dreams squandered, hopes dashed

Sigh.

My ideas about Super Amazing Hot gym guy were right. I heard him speaking Spanish tonight (I think) while pouring over what I can only assume is a new iPhone. Every single person at work has one, so I know for sure what they look like. (But really because of Donald, duh)

Anyway, homebody had just received a "tess messig" (there is apparently no Spanish (again, not sure) for text message) and couldn't for the life of him figure out how to read it or reply to it or do anything with it. For about 20 minutes. I enjoyed all of his other beefy, spanish-ish speaking friends crowding around him and trying to help him figure it out.

I smiled.

And then went to my car and hung my head low (with shame) on their behalf.

Confessions of a 28th Holiday Season

The following short list of things occurred to me recently as things that I would never have thought I would find myself thinking. Well, maybe not ever. But these are still some long shots. If any of them make you throw up in your mouth a little, with shame-sympathy on my behalf, I apologize well in advance. These confessions are a big step for me, so please be kind. So kind. Shhhh.


Here we go:

I'm really hoping that Britney's new CD is a hit. I bought it, a REAL CD. I can't help but root for her. Shit!

The trailer to Marley & Me has made me tear up, multiple times. Crap!

Exercise really does make me feel better. Sigh.

I love my job. Seriously!

I don't so much mind the frozen tundra. Oh cruel world!

I'm actually looking forward to Christmas this year. Ahhh!

And the Ultimate Confession: I'm pretty fucking happy.*



*I know I know. Don't remind me (too much) or this blog is really going downhill fast.

the most wonderful time of the year

First, work explodes into a high intensity stress fest.

Then, my exam gets rescheduled.

Later, work gets trickier and The Mayor and I shit can Big Red (I haven't even had time to revel in the glory that is my very own office!).

Meanwhile...I'm trying to christmas shop, attend various festivities, not piss anyone off by being super busy all the time AND get my beauty sleep.

It IS so hard being me.

Things has gotten away from me a bit and I readily admit that. I think the fact that I DVR programs for the specific purpose of having the TV on the background while I'm doing other things (dishes, present wrapping, blog writing) speaks volumes. Yes. I record specific programs for this reason.

Other signs that something important is about to slip through the cracks:
*Dinners of Skinny Cows and wheat thins
*A 25% full DVR, mostly containing re runs of Bridezillas that I can't bring myself to delete
*Not having even looked at the materials for my exam since I found out it's now in January
*The inability to make simple decisions: What flavor of yogurt DO I want?
*A serious lack of attention to Gchat AND my facebook status
*The fact that I now change the sheets on my bed every two weeks instead of every one week
*An ambivalent attitude toward my credit balance at all times
*The serious and long consideration of the following topic: I can do all of my christmas shopping at Newbury Comics, right?

I wouldn't say I am spinning out of control or about to start taking NoDoze to keep up with my busy schedule (Please, I still manage to squeeze in 8 hours plus a night. A woman has her limits.) but I would say that I spend substantially less time in my lounging clothes in this month of December.

Now that is the true tragedy.

An open letter to Big Red

Dear Big Red,

Because I cannot actually go completely ape on you about all the little things that drive me crazy about you because it's completely unprofessional AND because I do need you to help me in certain ways, I've decided to itemize them here, in hopes that it will ease some of the desire I have to simultaneously punch you in the throat and knee you in the balls.

1. Do not speak to me unless I ask you a direct question. If you have a question for me that is work related (and work related only), you may raise your hand to get my attention.
2. Do not put your feet up on your desk.
3. Do not sit with your legs open.
4. Try, just please try, NOT to sound like a douche every time you get on the phone.
5. Do not look at me.
6. Do not give me creepy, back handed compliments about my clothing, hair, or any other part of my appearance.
7. Do not talk to me about your girlfriend.
8. Related to number 7, do not talk to me about your personal life unless I ask you a direct question (refer to number 1).
9. Do not speak in a passive aggressive tone to potential future employees of our company. I know this is a hard one for you. I've talked to you about it, and you still seem to think it necessary, so it must be really hard if I haven't been able to get through your thick, fire crotch skull yet.
10. Related to number 9, do not patronize potential future employees. It makes you sound like a real asshole.

Thank you for your time and consideration. If you have any questions about the above itemized list, please refer to direction number 1.

Sincerely,
S

A post for KB

My weekends lately have been quite hermit-like. This isn't because I've given up on life or am turning into some crazy shut-in. I just need some special alone time. To stay sane.

I should be using this time to study for my upcoming exam. And I have, a little bit. Admittedly, not as much as I should. But that isn't the point of this entry.

Because of my existence, particularly this weekend, I've started to watch Bridezillas on We.

Have you SEEN this shit?

This bitches are craaaazy and need to be medicated. I cannot believe that adult women act like spoiled six year olds and then think it's appropriate to display this behavior, for all to see, on television. Horrific.

In this particular episode, one bride receives her veil, decides she hates it and proceeds to rip it to shreds with her own hands. The other bride (yes, they manage to squeeze in two per hour long episode) is nowhere near as terrible of a person, but it still pretty horrible. She's already told off her mother-in-law, who was trying to convince her NOT to put rhinestones in her bouquet. How does said bride think that rhinestones in her flowers is a good idea?

Both of these women are ugly on the inside and out. Maybe if you weren't so nasty, you would have better skin, shinier hair, and no horrible black bags under your eyes. And the mothers of these nasty ass hoes are revealing of the fact that these apples don't fall too far from the tree.

I may not understand the stress a bride is under, but I cannot imagine that these women are that much different in their regular lives. Yikes.

To my future fiance, should he be out there somewhere, we are so totally eloping.

Horrible, horrible people.

And I can't stop watching them.

Does that make me just as horrible?

Nah. I think it just means I love me some shitty reality television.

Paintballing: It hurts SO good

Friday was our company paintballing activity. I had never been and, when asking my new co workers how I should prepare, their only response was "Wear lots of layers."

On Thursday night, when learning that I had never been, two of my new co workers widened their eyes and said "You are going to be SO sore all weekend." My response: "Really? Sore from WHAT? I work out all the time [lies!] so I'll be fine." They just laughed at me. Silly, silly new HR Manager girl!

Now a full 48 hours after the fact, I can barely get up and down my stairs without wincing. This is unfortunate because my humble abode is in fact two floors. Getting up and down off the toilet is also very painful and pathetic.

The problem? It's two fold: Crouching and Squatting.

Now, unless you're Jason Varitek or some other major league catcher, you don't often find yourself crouching OR squatting for extended periods of time. And if you are perchance doing either of these actions, it it very rarely for minutes on end.

For those of you who have never played paintball, getting hit by one of those little fuckers HURTS. I don't care how tough you are or pretend to be, because I'm pretty god damn tough. I had three layers on top and one on bottom. In hindsight, this was no where near enough. In order to avoid getting nailed by a paintball, you spend most of your time either running while also crouched over, or just squatting behind some sort of barrier to avoid the hail of little plastic balls filled with water based paint.

A fair number of the guys have their own equipment and play frequently. Two of them brought specialty rapid fire guns. One of the those guys was on my team, although he did nail me at one point in friendly fire. To his credit, he didn't know it was me. The other guy was Big Red. And since I very much believe in karma, I wasn't so shocked to hear that Big Red sprained his ankle during his last game (he then had to leave early). Everyone together now! AWWWW.

We played five games. In the last game, I was hit so hard (IN THE BACK!!) that I started to cry and had to leave the game. I felt like the BIGGEST asshole, but felt much better after I learned I was the third person to leave the game BUT the first lady. ha HA!

I think I gained a certain level of respect with some of the guys. At least I hope I did. Even if not, it was the most fun involving extreme (for me) physical activity that I've had like, ever.

TMI: A Fair Warning

I'm about to overshare. I've obviously been spending too much time with Big Red.

So here goes...

I have my period.

It's either that, or my sex drive is finally returning after an eight month hiatus.

No...it's because I have my period.

For the past month or so, maybe more (I've lost track of time in general), I've been scoping out a SEXY ASS at the gym. This guy is delicious. Y-U-M-M-Y.

My attraction reached a frothy peak this evening.

Why this particular muscle man, you ask?

He has a perfect body, but doesn't flaunt it, works out for what I am sure is hours (I never stay that long), but doesn't grunt, groan or stand around with his buddies with his hand down his pants, making sure every woman in a 100 foot radius knows how big he thinks his dick is. He quietly strains. He subtly struts. He smolders.

My beautiful, beautiful man.

I'm pretty sure I caught him looking at me tonight. But he could have totally been looking at the female trainer who was doing some come hither maneuver on the yoga ball next to me. Bitch!

Yummy and I have made brief eye contact a few times (OK...exactly twice), but I'm scared of him he's so beautiful. The words "Hello I think you're yummy wanna bang?" don't so much roll off the tongue lately. Or ever.

And how can I flirt at the gym? Especially after cardio. The dark, sweaty circles under my boobs cannot be sexy. Match that with the afro that my hair turns into after sweating my ass off for 30-40 minutes, the abundant ass crack/flop sweat, and the mascara running down my face. Not cute.

So I will continue to watch him glisten from a distance and hope he doesn't catch me staring at him while he's doing his squat thrusts. mmmm HMMMM.

Big Red like whoa

I started my new job on Monday. It rules.

There A LOT of confidentiality rules, so I'm not even going to tell you what the company does or who I work for, except in broad strokes, otherwise I would get so canned and I don't want to risk losing this job because it's really rad. Those of you who know where I work, I beg you not to mention details in any comments you may or may not post. I won't publish them. Just warning you not to take it personally.

What I can tell you are the following things:
1. It's awesome.
2. I'm still doing HR.
3. I share an office with a guy I will lovingly refer to in this post and moving forward as "Big Red."

I technically manage Big Red. He's a super nice guy, I'll start with that. However, he's an oversharer, which I really despise mostly because I used to be an oversharer. But that was about 10 years ago, when I was a freshman in college. And Big Red happens to be right around my age. He should have grown out of this stage by now. No one wants to know that your Dad is a recovering drug addict or that you've been with your girlfriend for three years, but only see her on weekends. I could go on and on here.

I work with some extremely socially awkward people. I've been told by "The Big Guy" aka "The Mayor" that Big Red just wants to be everyone's friend. But let's face it, the awkward guys should be the ones doing the real work, the work that makes us all more money, not the HR/Ops stuff. We should be the smooth ones.

Not Big Red.

Added to that, I share my office with Big Red. In fact, our desks face each other. They touch. He came up with a great (NOT) idea today to teach me about the industry. (I'll give him that he knows more than I do). This is made up of word of the day definitions and meanings of various industry related acronyms. After he reached about three, I told him that was enough for today. He then informed me he would quiz me tomorrow to make sure I had retained the information. I'm not sure how much longer I can go before I tell him that our conversations are limited to work related issues. Unfortunately this new little game of his technically falls under that category. Hrm.

Big Red is so weird.

We all go paintballing next Friday. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes.

Madge, seriously? Really? Shut the fuck up

I went to the Madonna concert tonight. If you can't tell by the title of my entry, I really wasn't having it.

Some disclaimers: I'm not so much a large stadium concert person. I'm not so much into dance music. I do not own Madonna's two most recent albums. I paid $115 for my nose bleed (three rows from the very top!) ticket. My sister was next to me, and dripped sweat on me (AND repeatedly scratched me with her bracelet, then did not apologize) because she was doing a full on aerobics routine for nearly two hours. There were four of us and someone (I won't name names) only bought three bottles of water (after offering to get me one) and then offered me the swill left in hers when she realized the other two had been drained. Yum!

It's an election year. It's a big deal. It's less than a month away.

Today was my last day of work. I'm tired. I'm drained. I'm stressed.

I am taking into account ALL of these things.

Other pertinent information: The amount of money and fame that Madonna has is ridiculous. I mean, let's give her publicist a round of applause.

Yes, that's right!

Stop what you're doing.

(I'm serious)

I'll wait

....

....

....

And clap your hands for that person.

I hope they retire early. That's miracle work.

To continue: Her money and fame allow her to do some awesomely self indulgent shit. She's worked very hard to get what she has and she deserves what ever crazy insane out of control completely unnecessary lasers she wants. She looks great for 50. I saw her Reinvention tour two years ago and was blown away. The lady puts on a show. I'm not denying any of this.

Now the good part. Let me tell you what I HATED about this concert.

1. The sheer amount of electric energy that went into putting on the show, during which we had to watch a cute little montage about taking more responsiblility as citizens, and using green energy.

(my throat is tightening)

2. As if the completely random and slanted political montage wasn't enough, we had to listen to her "talk" to us for 5 minutes about how we better be "fucking" registered to vote and we better "fucking" vote for Obama and how Madge "won't mention what an idiot Sarah Palin is." Listen. I'm ALL for having a political agenda you support and are passionate about, no matter what side of the fence you are on. I admire it. Bravo and all that shit. What I absolutely will not tolerate is having to pay to hear her policital agenda. Take an add out. Write an article. Do an interview. Anything else. I am paying for YOU to entertain ME. Period. Get off your fucking soap box and stop lecturing me. And should I even bother to mention that WE DON'T LIVE IN A SWING STATE SO IT DOESN'T MATTER!!!

Ok, I'm sorry about the caps. But I really needed the emphasis on this one.

3. Yet another montage about commercialism and how we are all stupid for being swayed by media and basically blind and stupid. Uhm...then give me my $115 back and stop selling T-shirts for $50.

Is this completely enraging anyone else?

4. Her arms. They are gross. Eat a sandwich and lay off the Bikram Yoga for a month. Just enough. You're fit. We get it. Wear more things with sleeves.

5. Her fake hair. You're 50. Stop with the extensions and please don't "grow" bangs mid show. I just. Sigh. I just can't deal with it.

6. The almost constant demand for the audience to scream louder and jump higher. Leave me alone! Let me BE, woman!

The vein in my neck is throbbing again so I will leave you with this one last thought: I want my money back.

The one where modesty completely escapes me

Something was brought to my attention last night by a very dear friend (lots of love, CJ) that had seriously never occured to me. I'm not lying. Not at all.

People are jealous of me? Or maybe we should call it envy. Is there a difference?

Now I don't mean all people and would not be able to tell you who. But after about ten minutes of convincing, I came around to this: If I really sit back and evaluate myself from someone else's perspective (or at least try, this is nearly impossible), on the surface of things, I really have my shit together and am pretty awesome.

Honestly, I had no idea. To me, I'm a big giant mess with mommy issues.

The doctor will patronize you now

I was flooded with new material last night while I was trying to fall asleep. Maybe it's my own way of escaping from my "real" problems or maybe it's yet another form of proscrastination. Either way, you better like it.

Last Friday I had a physical with my primary care physician. I obviously don't know her all that well, since I rarely go to this particular brand of doctor, but I decided back in late summer that I should really go and make sure I had a clean bill of health, my blood wasn't infected with any strains of rare bacteria, and that I hadn't caught Hepatitis C from my old roommate. I hear that spreads like wildfire in tanning beds and I also hear it's just horrible. Early detection is key!

I started out with a very grumpy nurse, (why are they always so sullen?) who had me stand awkwardly in the hallway while she prepared my pee cup. Really? We can't do this in an exam room somewhere? She handed it to me and pointed to the bathroom. Apparently nurses do not speak. Lucky for her, I had to go. I actually had to go too much and I overfilled the thing. So I had pee all over my hands and it was just generally unpleasant. I cleaned up and handed the cup back to her and she proceeded to open it and put pH strips in it just, you know IN THE HALLWAY. Ugh.

Then after waiting for a little too long for the doctor to come in, she arrived and started asking me all of the requisite questions. I lied and told her I didn't drink or do drugs and that everything was "just great." Because what can she really do about my digestive problems besides tell me to keep a food journal and then NOT diagnose me with IBS? Why bother! I'll just keep self medicating on that one, thanks.

Then she asks me about what medications I'm on, I tell her, then she asks me this question: "So the antidepressant you take, does that make you happy?"

EEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. What kind of fucking question is THAT coming from a DOCTOR? I know I did that thing where my chest got all blotchy and red because I was pissed (also happens when drinking) and I just said "Yes, exactly. It makes me happy." She asked me a few minutes later during the "exam" part if I was allergic to the detergents they wash their johnnies in. Yeah, that must be it.

We quickly moved on to talking about Tetnus shots.

We decided I couldn't remember the last time I had gotten one, so let's do this thing. She tells me I may have a mild reaction of a fever or maybe a redness around the injection site but nothing major. Sounded fine to me. The grumpy nurse comes back in, quietly gives me the shot and then says THIS gem: "Grrrrl, that shot is gonna to make you SO sick."

Wait, what? Can all of you maybe chit chat amongst yourselves before giving me medical information? Or maybe you can get a nurse who isn't such a Debbie Downer? Just maybe?

Four days later, I didn't get sick at all. My arm was a little sore from where the shot was but other than that, absolutely nothing happened.

And I guess if I had the hiv, I would have gotten a phone call by now.

Things to do when you're bored at work...

...but still trying to look "busy"

1. hassle others into blowing off their jobs to play games on the internet with you.

2. write notes no one will read on your facebook page.

3. walk around and start saying "goodbye"'s one week early.

4. take long trips to the bathroom, intentionally or unintentionally.

5. when given a real work task, delegate to your replacement immediately.

6. write lists of things you intend to do at home, but that you will most likely continue to put off because, let's face it, you're kind of lazy.

7. shop online (this is less fun when you don't have any money).

8. daydream about your new flat screen television.

9. listen to voice mails and then hold the receiver to your ear long after the recording has finished (hold between shoulder and chin while typing lists for extra "busy" effect).

10. Put post it's labeled "mine" on items on your desk that are obviously not at all yours, and wait for others to comment, then act as though you have no idea how those post-its appeared. Alternatively, blame it on the cleaners.

I want hooters

This past Saturday, Donald and I were puzzled as to where we should get lunch whilst out on our errand running. I suggested Kelly's originally and he wasn't so much having it (can't really blame him), but then I remembered that a new restaurant had opened up recently right down Route 1.

And yes, that new restaurant is none other than the infamous Hooters.

Now I had never been to a Hooters but I have always ALWAYS wanted to go. I had a picture of what it would be like in my head but N=nothing, however, could prepare me for the full blown adventure that is lunch on Saturday at Hooters in Saugus, MA.

First of all, there is an endless line to get in. It was 1pm and it was almost akin to waiting in line at Target on tax free weekend. When I got inside, I immediately understood why. It really is very warm and welcoming. I think it's all the wood paneling.

There is orange EVERYWHERE. The ladies are in tight white tank tops and ridiculously short polyester orange shorts. Yet, none of the men (that I could see) were oggling or being rude. They, like myself, were taking in the entire sensory experience. There were families there! Everyone from Grandma checking out cleavage to little Joe eating curly fries, completely oblivious to what was going on around him.

The wings (I had to get wings) were amazing and the prices were reasonable. There were flat screen TV's as far as the eye could see. What's not to love??

Now, I'm sure that later in the evening, things get a little shifty. When the men start knocking back those beers, the ladies who are employed there most likely put up with some serious bullshit. Keeping that in mind, I gave our lovely waitress Kacey (Kaley? Kailen? who knows) a very generous tip.

But I will return to investigate and frollic in the night time (if I can even get past the door) and report back to you. I promise.