Oh, gee, what will I write about today?
I'm coming at this post with nothing concrete to say; with only the will to say it.
I'm drinking a Tropicana "Smoothie" because I couldn't bear to wait in the long Friday lunch line at the local chain that sells overpriced, yet real, smoothies. I bought it in our building's cafeteria. I've resisted until now becaue the first 4 ingredients are "Purified water, banana puree concentrate, white grape juice concentrate, high fructose corn syrup . . . " or, AKA "Water, sugar, sugar, really bad sugar". I know that real fruit is pretty much all sugar, too, but at least it tastes a lot better. This tastes like kiddie antibiotic flavoring.
I managed to talk my husband into coming out with me tonight! We're going to go see "Walk the Line" (my second viewing--I anticipate many more) and maybe go get some dinner. Stevie is being picked up by his grandfather. Their first task is to get Stevie's hair cut. It's plenty short, but sorta looks like grass that has been cut by a mower with very dull blades. I know it drives my mom a little nuts--she has asked me before to let it grow and then get him a "real" haircut. Truth is, though, he looks so darn cute with really short hair! However, Kevin and I can't give haircuts for shit! So he shines despite our ham-handed attempts to save money on kid's haircuts. After today's professional barbering, he might be too beautiful for this world. Or he might look like Forrest Gump. We'll see.
After that, they'll do whatever until mom gets there with pizza. Stevie plans on spending the night and going with my mom and a cousin to her workplace to see Santa on Saturday morning. Stevie is happy to spend the night, but not so thrilled about seeing Santa, whom he does not believe in. He asked me, "Is it just a person dressed up like Santa?" Yep, that's exactly what it is, but try not to spoil it for the other kids. I don't know where this Santatheism comes from. We're trying to play up the cool tradition part of the whole thing. I'm curious to see how it goes tomorrow. I suspect that he will air his beliefs to Santa, if he even feels the need to sidle up to the guy. Which I kind of doubt. He knows where his cookies and milk come from.
I really, really want to get ahold of the person(s) who designed the Northside Parkway that I have to drive on all workweek long. The built-in bottlenecks, the crappy asphalt, the extremely dangerous turn lanes with no lights and even less hope. Plus, the geniuses of progress keep on buildin', buildin' and buildin', and yet I see no plans--or even a way!--to expand the stupid road. Really, this person should be fucking throttled. But it's Christmas. And that can only mean . . .
It's "Gluttonfest" here at work! Each day until Christmas, two people bring in food for the rest of the department. It's fun because you get to eat a lot of yummy crap, but the sociology aspect of it is interesting, too. Who will participate, and what will they bring? Will it be homemade? Will there be too much, or not enough? If they bring in storebought food, will they bring those overdone baked goods pumped out by the nearest mega-grocery, with too much bad-tasting frosting and sprinkles enough to fill a billion rotten teeth? Or will they, like me, go to Krispy Kreme and bring in 5 DOZEN of the best donuts in the fricking world, all hot?
Normally I bake or chop or something, but I didn't even sign up for Gluttonfest this year (didn't think I would BE here, Doc) so I wanted to do something while I was still here, and I can't compete with KK. Plus, I heard the obnoxious morning DJs on Local Classic Rock Station pay respects to good samaritans. It was kinda funny because it was the good samaritans calling the station to expound on their good deeds, which isn't very good samaritan like. I was tempted to call and tell them about my upcoming Krispy Kreme purchase and what a great person I was for doing it . . . just kidding! (I'm saving that for my blog.) Actually, I wanted to call and tell them WHY I felt the need to get the KKs, which went beyond my personal need for KKs, exacerbated by the fact that I had burned my toast that very morning while I was outside scraping frost off of my windshield.
I wanted to do something nice for this department because they are great people. Just two Christmases ago, I was trying to help my dad shop for Christmas because he sucks at it and has no interest in it. He stopped by my work and gave me 7 $100 bills. I went straight to Toys 'r' Us and lost them--just lost them!--right out of my pocket. Long story short--looked everywhere, couldn't find the money (I just KNOW one of those sleazy toy merchants picked it up!), called my mean dad and confessed, offered to use my own money to buy his gifts, was told that I was irresponsible with other people's things and that I shouldn't have called at all. Boo hoo. Left the office in tears and much poorer than I had been when I arrived.
The next day, my new cube friend presented me with an envelope containing a good amount of the money I had lost. Seems she had taken the initiative to pass this envelope around the office and the then smallish staff had collected all of this money for someone they hardly knew--I had only been here 4 months--who had done a really stupid (yet innocently stupid) thing! It was incredible--the nicest thing that any group of relative strangers had ever or has ever done for me. And, for that, they get donuts. Oh--and a shitload of good karma. Merry Christmas to all good samaritans everywhere!
I'm drinking a Tropicana "Smoothie" because I couldn't bear to wait in the long Friday lunch line at the local chain that sells overpriced, yet real, smoothies. I bought it in our building's cafeteria. I've resisted until now becaue the first 4 ingredients are "Purified water, banana puree concentrate, white grape juice concentrate, high fructose corn syrup . . . " or, AKA "Water, sugar, sugar, really bad sugar". I know that real fruit is pretty much all sugar, too, but at least it tastes a lot better. This tastes like kiddie antibiotic flavoring.
I managed to talk my husband into coming out with me tonight! We're going to go see "Walk the Line" (my second viewing--I anticipate many more) and maybe go get some dinner. Stevie is being picked up by his grandfather. Their first task is to get Stevie's hair cut. It's plenty short, but sorta looks like grass that has been cut by a mower with very dull blades. I know it drives my mom a little nuts--she has asked me before to let it grow and then get him a "real" haircut. Truth is, though, he looks so darn cute with really short hair! However, Kevin and I can't give haircuts for shit! So he shines despite our ham-handed attempts to save money on kid's haircuts. After today's professional barbering, he might be too beautiful for this world. Or he might look like Forrest Gump. We'll see.
After that, they'll do whatever until mom gets there with pizza. Stevie plans on spending the night and going with my mom and a cousin to her workplace to see Santa on Saturday morning. Stevie is happy to spend the night, but not so thrilled about seeing Santa, whom he does not believe in. He asked me, "Is it just a person dressed up like Santa?" Yep, that's exactly what it is, but try not to spoil it for the other kids. I don't know where this Santatheism comes from. We're trying to play up the cool tradition part of the whole thing. I'm curious to see how it goes tomorrow. I suspect that he will air his beliefs to Santa, if he even feels the need to sidle up to the guy. Which I kind of doubt. He knows where his cookies and milk come from.
I really, really want to get ahold of the person(s) who designed the Northside Parkway that I have to drive on all workweek long. The built-in bottlenecks, the crappy asphalt, the extremely dangerous turn lanes with no lights and even less hope. Plus, the geniuses of progress keep on buildin', buildin' and buildin', and yet I see no plans--or even a way!--to expand the stupid road. Really, this person should be fucking throttled. But it's Christmas. And that can only mean . . .
It's "Gluttonfest" here at work! Each day until Christmas, two people bring in food for the rest of the department. It's fun because you get to eat a lot of yummy crap, but the sociology aspect of it is interesting, too. Who will participate, and what will they bring? Will it be homemade? Will there be too much, or not enough? If they bring in storebought food, will they bring those overdone baked goods pumped out by the nearest mega-grocery, with too much bad-tasting frosting and sprinkles enough to fill a billion rotten teeth? Or will they, like me, go to Krispy Kreme and bring in 5 DOZEN of the best donuts in the fricking world, all hot?
Normally I bake or chop or something, but I didn't even sign up for Gluttonfest this year (didn't think I would BE here, Doc) so I wanted to do something while I was still here, and I can't compete with KK. Plus, I heard the obnoxious morning DJs on Local Classic Rock Station pay respects to good samaritans. It was kinda funny because it was the good samaritans calling the station to expound on their good deeds, which isn't very good samaritan like. I was tempted to call and tell them about my upcoming Krispy Kreme purchase and what a great person I was for doing it . . . just kidding! (I'm saving that for my blog.) Actually, I wanted to call and tell them WHY I felt the need to get the KKs, which went beyond my personal need for KKs, exacerbated by the fact that I had burned my toast that very morning while I was outside scraping frost off of my windshield.
I wanted to do something nice for this department because they are great people. Just two Christmases ago, I was trying to help my dad shop for Christmas because he sucks at it and has no interest in it. He stopped by my work and gave me 7 $100 bills. I went straight to Toys 'r' Us and lost them--just lost them!--right out of my pocket. Long story short--looked everywhere, couldn't find the money (I just KNOW one of those sleazy toy merchants picked it up!), called my mean dad and confessed, offered to use my own money to buy his gifts, was told that I was irresponsible with other people's things and that I shouldn't have called at all. Boo hoo. Left the office in tears and much poorer than I had been when I arrived.
The next day, my new cube friend presented me with an envelope containing a good amount of the money I had lost. Seems she had taken the initiative to pass this envelope around the office and the then smallish staff had collected all of this money for someone they hardly knew--I had only been here 4 months--who had done a really stupid (yet innocently stupid) thing! It was incredible--the nicest thing that any group of relative strangers had ever or has ever done for me. And, for that, they get donuts. Oh--and a shitload of good karma. Merry Christmas to all good samaritans everywhere!
posted by lulu | 10:05 AM
1 Comments:
Yes, Virginia, there is a Social Studies dept. And for someone with nothing to say, you are quite prolific. I want to see the results of that study of gluttonfestivity - 'twould be revealing.
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