November 29, 2010
What, No Hooka-Smoking Catapillar?
Oh, Anthropologie. I know you were going for a whimsical, dark carnival, through-the-looking-glass type of vibe in your latest catalogue.
However, I can assure you that I have never daydreamed of demonic children riding giant rabbits. I mean, what is that? A fond -- if somewhat distorted -- childhood memory? A sexual fantasy? Something she'd like to have for dinner? What?
And speaking of dinner...
Chickens, in real life, are nasty, horrible creatures. We non-vegetarians are doing the world a favor by eating them. I don't ever want to see one this big. It's not fanciful; it's disturbing.
Seriously. Get the goddamn chicken off my two hundred dollar purse.
And what's with this poor guy?
Like he doesn't have enough to carry around?
Oh, sure, the big, strong mammal gets the easy photo shoot.
Actually, I kind of love this. Miss Llama is rockin' her ethnic necklaces, Tyra, she is FIERCE!
But even more than the llama lloves her llavalliere, I llove this:
I am totally redecorating my living room exactly like this, complete with live owl. Good thing Christmas is coming! I'm going to need three of these six hundred dollar lamps! Don't worry -- I believe that Anthropologie does lay-aways. I know how disappointed you'd be if you couldn't give me my heart's desire!
As disappointed as this sheep seems to be, to be wearing boots. Disappointed, and a bit perplexed. With a twenty percent chance of annoyed.
Bundle up, other barnyard animals! There's a stormfront moving in!
Oh. You're already prepared.
Check out the look on this dogs face:
He's like, "I have five fucking pieces of silverware and no opposable thumbs! You think this is funny?!"
P.S. Anthropologie, would you please send me the name of the woman who owns the lifestyle for which these boots are aptly suited?
I wish to join her Fan Club. Thank you.
Posted at 06:05 AM | Comments (4)November 25, 2010
Coming Soon... Anthropologie!
No, this blog isn't about Anthropologie. But it will be! On Monday. When this Thanksgiving ruckus is past. This post is basically just a babbling placeholder that I probably won't even proofread.
Today, on this most domestic-abuse-inducing of days, I am donning my Eatin' Pants and giving thanks that the ability to multi-task comes attached to the X chromosome.
Today's To Do List
1. Create and assemble Four-Layer Pumpkin Cake.
2. Bake chocolate chip cookies for children who won't eat four-layer pumpkin cake.
3. Make Buckeye Bars for in-laws' house.
4. Make shopping list for lunches at in-laws' house.
5. Do laundry for clothes for in-laws' house.
6. Pack clothes for in-laws' house.
7. Pack dogs' stuff for in-laws' house.
8. Make myself beautiful for this evening.
9. Blog.
10. Eat until I'm senseless.
I thought this was supposed to be a sort of vacation weekend? How many of you are lucky enough to be doing exactly what you want for this four-day weekend?
Posted at 01:22 PM | Comments (1)November 22, 2010
I Got Me a Champion
Why did I make a doctor's appointment for every single work day this week? Did I not know that Thanksgiving is coming? How could I not be aware that I would need to do some grocery shopping at some point? Am I new to this country? I have to make a four-layer pumpkin cake to bring to Billi's!
Anyhoo, as I type this, I have twenty-eight and a half more days left in this shithole organization, in this soul-sucking job. (The half is because we get a half day off on December 10th as a thank you for... I don't know. Not shooting up the place? Time off for good behavior, I guess.)
In case you're new, I've been looking forward to ending my time here, as demonstrated by my counting down of the days. Yeah, I don't look forward to trying to find a new job or Husband nagging me to find a new job. But I look forward to no longer being in an atmousphere that is so bad for my complexion and digestion.
One of the people who was laid off on October 11th (a.k.a. The Columbus Day Massacre) came back to visit some friends today. The first comment Alpha made to her was, "Wow, you look great!"
Apparently, she has lost SIXTEEN POUNDS since escaping from Azkaban! SIXTEEN! I feel that's a very clear picture of what this place does to a person, don't you? I just couldn't be more jealous. And believe me, she's not the first person who has come back for a visit looking ten years younger. It's a universal phenomenon.
In fact, HR Troll #1 was walking by and chimed in, "How come everyone seems to lose weight after they leave here?" Um, because they're not compelled to fill the empty void that once was their self-esteem by eating their weight in Snickers bars? Just a hunch I'm throwing out there.
And speaking of the Ninth Circle of Hell, there is yet more news about my job. Son of Job News. Revenge of Job News. Job News and the Deathly Hallows Part IV. Abbott & Costello Meet Job News. And so forth.
It is one hundred percent fo-shizzle certain that my contract will not be renewed after January 15, and indeed, there is no chance that I will be continuing in my present position. And there was much rejoicing. Well, by ME. Not by the three people whom I support.
BUT. Head Boss seems to have taken a personal interest in getting me employed elsewhere in the building -- specifically in the job that I interviewed for months ago and got and then lost when I couldn't get a straight answer from HRT#1 because she was trying to spin the fact that they're just going to "transition" one of her little friends into my job.
Now, I don't know why he's interested in doing this. Maybe he really likes me and is actually interested in supporting me and my career? Maybe he really wants to stick it to HR and their bullshit "inclusive" hiring/promoting practices? I like to think that it's a little of both.
Anyhoo, he has told me that I need to speak to WM forthwith and make no delay. The dust has settled, the 2011 budget numbers are in -- so is that position officially taken off the books? If not, when is my start date? Head Boss and PhD Boss both told me to be 100% honest with WM about what I think is going on, and what I want to do about it.
Get this -- Head Boss even told me, several times, that he'd be more than happy to accompany me and/or WM into HRT#1's office and argue my case. The job is MINE, so if it still exists, what's the hold-up? Oh, sweet Jeebus, let me be a part of that conversation. Even if I don't get the job, just being given the opportunity to defend myself against the bullshit racism and zip-code-bigotry will be a balm to my soul.
I am quite unaccustomed to having a man champion my position. Mostly because they wouldn't dare. But hey, I'll be the first to admit that there are many instances in this world where I weild little or no power, and it would be FANTASTIC to have a well-respected man stand up and say, "This isn't right. She deserves better than this. This is an unjustice that I would see righted."
My heart flutters at the thought! But on the other hand, there is a feeling in my gut, like a ferret gnawing on my spleen, that tells me not to open myself up to this process again. Why set myself up for more rejection? Haven't they proven to me over and over and over that I have no future there?
And c'mon. Even if the HR Trolls acquiese, they're never going to pay me what I deserve. They will low-ball me in the hopes that I'll turn it down. And I will.
Coming soon to a theatre near you! The final Oscar-contender of 2010! Wenchie's oh-so-convincing performance of a woman who actually gives a shit about her job! "You don't like me! You really, really don't like me!"
Posted at 08:09 PM | Comments (4)November 18, 2010
I Can't Think of One Damn Thing to Blog About
So I'll give you four.
Elevator Relationships
Just because we ride on the same elevator for three floors does NOT mean you have to wish me any kind of day at the end of the ride. You are not obligated to invest any thought at all in what kind of day I am having or will have. I'm more than happy to spend my entire five seconds with you in utter silence, start to finish. I'm not answering you people anymore. I'm not participating in your faux-friendship. Think what you will of me.
Bagger
When I've fulfilled the rest of my contract in thirty-one and a half days (we get a half day off on December 10), I want to bag groceries at Trader Joe's. I'm serious. Those people always seem happy with their lot in life. I want to drink that Kool-Aid. Of course, I may not have enough face-piercings or visible tattoos,... but maybe if I die my hair jet black or Raggedy Ann red, I can fool them into thinking that I'm hip and quirky. Perhaps a beret?
Schedule
Here's the rest of my November: Rehearsal, gig, one day to put up all Christmas decorations, doctor appointment, different doctor appointment, really different doctor appointment, Thanksgiving at Billi's with her in-laws, Indiana with my in-laws, another day with the in-laws, another day with the in-laws. Will someone just cryogenically freeze me until the 30th? That's when Husband goes on a three-day business trip, and I sit on my ass eating pasta every night. I'm not even sure when I'm gonna see the latest "Harry Potter" movie -- THAT's how fucked up my calendar is!
Christmas Party
There's this kind of group that I belong to on Facebook, made up of people I went to school with at various stages of my life. Because I am an idiot, I volunteered to throw this year's Christmas party. Now I find out through the grapevine that a couple people I don't know are going to show up. Ahhhh, great, just like high school. Only this time, I am not afraid of anyone thinking I'm not cool when I boot their ass out, and if anyone pukes in my bushes, I can call the cops without fear of getting in trouble myself. Beware, party crashers! This former drama geek GREW A SET since graduation!
November 15, 2010
Getting Up the Nerve
In all my dating life, I never once got asked out. Oxymoron, you say? How could I date if I never got asked out? Easy-peasy, silly-kins. I did all the asking. (To the shock of no one and the chagrin of my Mother.)
I just never had the patience to wait around for some guy to get up the nerve to ask me, especially after several of them told me I'm "intimidating."
[What? Lil' ol' me? *eyelash flutter*]
Who wants to wait for some guy to man-up? Who has that kind of time?
So I was always the asker. And yeah, I got turned down a couple times... I'm assuming... maybe? Enh, probably not. Which is why it just got easier every time I did it. Seriously, I will ask out anyone. I will ask out your Dad.
But I am constantly stymied about asking out women. Should be easy, right? They're not going to turn me down because of my chunky thighs, or because of what their friends might think, or because they think they won't score. But asking another woman to start an active, deliberate friendship is SO HARD.
There's so many things to take into consideration. Does she think I'm as cool as I think she is? Does she even have room for another friend in her life? Will our difference in marital/political/employment status get in the way?
We've gone out a few times in group settings, but I really wanna get to know her one-on-one. She's a vegetarian and an animal rights activist, so I was afraid she'd be kind of a goody-goody, ya know? Disapprove of my love of bacon and the fact that I don't let my dogs sleep with me.
But she's sooooooooo not like that. She has that slightly dark side, that appreciation of the kind-of-horrible, that intolerance of emo drama -- all of which I love so much in a friend. And the best part? She is Geographically Desirable! I wouldn't have to get on an expressway and/or drive into the city to see her! Gah! I so wanna hang out with her!
And now you see my problem -- I'm afraid of coming across as pushy and/or desparate. Which I'm not! I have lots of awesome, dark, vaguely-horrible, drama-intolerant friends! Am I selfish to want one more?
UGH! This was so much easier when my coursing hormones made my decisions for me! But it's hard to throw caution to the wind when I'm not looking to get naked with her... When you take romance out of the equation, you're left with the real cogs of a relationship: personality and compatability. And there's no rush of desire to make us blind when that's not working.
I don't know. Maybe I'll just let it happen organically. Or maybe, for the first time in my life, I'll wait to be asked.
Posted at 08:05 PM | Comments (3)November 12, 2010
Clueless
You've heard the old axiom -- "While the cat's away, the mice shall play." Well, while PhD Boss was oh-so-conveniently traveling on my birthday, my REAL work-friends showered me with an embarassment of riches. (Which gives way to a mental picture of me naked, and gold coins raining down upon me. My arms are up in the air; I'm smiling and laughing and doing the Snoopy dance. Luckily for the retenas of the world, that's not what happened.)
I walked into the office at 7:30 a.m. on Friday to find a hot pink "Barbie Girl" tiara and a bowl of chocolate candy waiting for me. (As fashion fate would have it, I was wearing dark colors, allowing the tiara to be the focal point of my ensemble.) Now, that's pretty friggin' awesome in its own right. Tiara + Chocolate = Both of Wenchie's primary needs met -- Primary Need #1 being My Need To Be the Center of Attention. Pretty hard to ignore the crazy lady wearing a tiara in the copy room!
But I was to find, as the day went on, that there were even more amazing things awaiting me!
I knew that we were going to be ordering pizza -- me, Alpha, Head Boss, B.A. (the woman in the cube on the side that Alpha's not in, who is technically in another department, but hates her department, so she hangs out with us), and Scott, from the department near us that got downsized to TWO PEOPLE. (Scott is musical and gay and irreverent, so I couldn't be more pleased that he's basically forced to socialize with us or become a hermit.)
(There is way too much going on parenthetically in this post. I apologize.)
Pizza was to arrive at noon, and at about 11:30, I was getting antsy and wanted to walk around. So I got plates, napkins, etc. and put them in our little private library because that's where I assumed we'd be eating lunch. As I was walking back to my desk, Alpha accosted me.
"Where were you???"
"I just put plates and stuff in the library."
"We're not eating in there!"
"Oh, well, I--"
"You're not allowed to do anything! Now go back to your desk and sit down!"
Okaaaaaaaaaay. Weird. But kind of adorable, too, not wanting the birthday girl to lift a finger. I could go for being doted upon.
Suddenly, it was noon, and I was being escorted to the conference room right across from our cubicles. A conference room that was swathed in pink and lavendar and more pink and Barbie's vapid smile! There was Barbie tablecloth, Barbie plates, Barbie napkins, Barbie cups, Barbie centerpiece! It was as if Mattel had vomited on our lunch table!
I couldn't believe it! When the hell did they decorate the conference room, and how I did not notice?! Damn, I really am in my own, little world. And no wonder Alpha didn't want me walking around or setting up in the library!
So we closed the door and ate. We are blessed to have one of Chicago's finest pizza places in our building complex. In fact, it's my favorite deep dish in all of Chicago. Lunch of champions!
Now, I have a thing about lunch. Unless you are a firefighter or brain surgeon, you should never, ever, ever work through lunch. Get your ass up, get away from your computer, grab a friend, leave the building, and eat something yummy. You're not doing yourself any favors by trying to impress people with your Hardcore, Lunch-Skipping Dedication To Your Employer. You're just making it look like you can't handle your shit, so go check out the flavor of the day at Culver's, for God's sake.
I always take my full hour (and then some) for lunch. But half an hour after we started eating, we were done. Only half of my lunch hour was used up! I prayed that they wouldn't all go back to their desks, where the rest of them normally eat lunch. (Freaks!)
Luckily, Alpha started asking stupid questions, like, "What was your favorite party game as a child?" and "Did you ever play any make-out games in high school?"
So I answered them and explained to Head Boss the forced, flop-sweat-inducing awkwardness of Seven Minutes In Heaven. He's a reverend, in case you forgot, and found it fascinating. Pure. Awesome.
Then Scott, who travels all over the world playing liturgical music for various and sundry services, started telling stories about bishops and pastors and cardinals and nuns and deacons. My favorite one was about the right-wing Christian who was horrified to find out that there might be gay people at the church music convention she was attending.
Scott was like, "Are you kidding?! We're a bunch of church organists! Hellooooooooo! You might as well be at a hairdressers' convention!"
I love him. Anyway, halfway through lunch, I had taken off my tiara because it is, of course, made for a child's head and, therefore, was pretty tight on mine. At 1:00 exactly, as if on cue, everyone stood up and made to go back to their desks.
Head Boss said to me, "You should put your tiara back on."
And I was like, "I will later. I'm giving my skull a rest."
But he used his Father Knows Best voice and said, "I'm asking you to put on your tiara."
What the--? Okay. I knew something was up. I looked at the closed conference room door, which they were waiting for me to open, and was filled with terror. Clearly, there was someone on the other side of it, and I was going to have to find out... in my tiara.
I opened the door and was completely blown away by the sight that greeted me. There was more Barbie decorations, half a dozen of my bestest work friends, and a friggin' BARBIE CAKE!!!
A BARBIE CAKE!!!
For ME! I couldn't believe it! Sure, I've made one for The Girl Child, but I never thought someone would get me one of my own!
I must admit -- this sea-faring, embittered, world-weary pirate teared-up a little looking at the wonderful, thoughtful ladies who bought me a Barbie cake. Or maybe it was just a little sea water in my eye. Either way, I hope no one noticed.
So, apparently, the reason why Alpha was asking ridiculous questions after lunch, and everyone else made sure that we stayed in that room for the full one hour, was because the rest of my friends were just outside the room, silently setting up for dessert. I tell ya, dem bitches are sneaky!
I also found out that B.A.'s husband had, sometime that morning, picked up the cake from the bakery and delivered it here. I never saw B.A. and Alpha go get it from him, and I had no idea that it was sitting in a cube ten feet away! I am so flippin' clueless!
First the secretly decorated lunch room, then the surprise Barbie cake dessert gathering -- thank God they've chosen to use their powers for good and not evil. I'm sure, if we all put our heads together, we could take over this organization. But it wouldn't be nearly as rewarding as red velvet cake.
Posted at 09:47 AM | Comments (1)November 08, 2010
The One-Footed Bird On My Head
Having just turned 41, and with my current lifestyle, I am now most likely closer to my death than I am to my birth. So it's about time that I start crabbing about my failing health. And since my I Had My Appendix, Six Inches of Intestine and a Mass the Size of an Orange Removed from My Abdomen story is now more than six years old, I'm going to crab about my headaches.
I was never really a headache person until recently. Sure, I got stomach flu at least once a year, and I got a sinus infection every November, but I never got a headaches unless they were from dry-heaving or infected sinuses. (Wow, this post didn't take long to get really disgusting, did it?)
Since marrying Husband, I've only hurled once, I think, and only had one sinus infection. However, I've developed these nagging headaches. Now, don't read too much into that. I'm not insinuating that Husband is the cause of my headaches. Let's face it -- it's probably PhD Boss.
Or more likely, it's the neck injury I sustained while hauling tree branches -- what, two years ago now? It's just never healed and stayed healed. And I feel like the slightest little thing brings it back to life.
It starts as a tightness in my shoulders, either from sitting hunched over a computer all day, or from cleaning my entire house in one day like a crazy person. Sadly, neither of these events are what you would call infrequent.
Then my neck gets sore on the left side, and I have trouble turning my head. Inevitably, the headache starts -- a dull ache all over my skull, at first.
The real joy comes when the vague, all-over pain becomes very concentrated on the left side of my head, like a steel cable, going from my left eyebrow over the left side of my head, down the back of the left side of my neck, and into the muscle on the top of my left shoulder. It's so bad that my head, neck and shoulder are so tender, I can't even touch them.
And it's exactly the same every time. Like a giant bird of prey, perched on my head, but he's missing his right foot.
This time, it lasted from Friday morning through Sunday afternoon. In fact, my neck is still very sore as I write this, but at least the pain is gone from my head.
And I can hardly stomach the level of whining of doing here, but I'm secretly hoping that someone will comment and say, "I/my sister/my cousin/my boss had the same thing, and this is how to get rid of it!"
I tried chiropractic therapy (i.e. the loving hands of Dr. Hottie), and that certainly improved things. At least my left arm doesn't hurt or go numb anymore, scaring me into driving myself to the E.R. because I think I'm having a grabber. And when my neck started acting up again, I had Bowen Therapy, which was awesome and had a seriously corrective effect on my posture. Not a twinge in the neck for weeks!
But then The Spare came to spend the night, and as is the way with fearless four-year old boys, he hurt himself. I picked him up and ouch. Why, hello, Mr. Burning Neck Tendon. I didn't miss you at all. Why did you come back?
All last week, I felt the lead-up to The Main Event. My shoulders hurt. My neck was more and more stiff each morning. Finally, the raptor dug it's talons into my head Friday morning, and didn't let up until Sunday afternoon.
Let's be honest, that's kind of a ridiculously long time to have a headache. And since Headache = No Cooky & No Cleany from Wenchie, Husband has started to nag me about calling my doctor to make an appointment.
And I really should stop being such a guy about it and just schedule a damn appointment. The thing is -- I don't want to. See, I know lots of people who suffer from headaches/migraines/whathaveyou, and I've never known a doctor visit to be some miracle cure for them. I guess, even though I love my G.P., I have very little faith in the medical community as a whole to cure headaches.
I'm afraid that they'll want to dose me up with some expensive drug whose most common side effects include searing gas pain and loss of the ability to match pitch. Or worse -- they'll want to do surgery. I can't have that, people. Because neck and/or back surgery always leads to more neck and/or back surgery, prescription painkillers, addiction and finally, death by accidental overdose. How lame.
So, yes, I am officially one of those idiots who doesn't go to the doctor because I'm afraid to know what's wrong with me, and I'm just going to suffer until I die of a brain tumor. Lame and stupid.
And at my funeral, the pastor will say, "You know, Wenchie always loved doing her Arnold Schwarzenegger impression -- It's not a tumor. And ironically, it was a tumor. Please turn to hymn number 327."
Okay, I was wrong -- that'd be kind of awesome.
Posted at 06:03 AM | Comments (4)November 05, 2010
Five Things I Miss About High School
1. Homeroom. What a great way to start the day. A little down time, a little socialization. You were at school, but not quite in school, yet. It kind of eased you into your day. What a great idea.
2. Concert Choir. What a luxury -- to sing for an hour and twenty minutes every day! Bliss! My voice and my sight-reading were both in such great shape. *sigh* *pine*
3. A locker. Ah, my first piece of real estate. Private, secure, lots of patio space. My locker was nice and tidy, of course. You could decorate it any way you wanted. Friends would drop notes to you there. It was like owning a teensy-tiny house without all the suck of rent or a mortgage.
4. Drakkar Noir. How come no one wears Drakkar anymore? Well, it's probably for the best because I would rape any guy who wore it within five miles of me. That would be awkward, huh? Getting on the elevator with PhD Boss. "Is that Drakkar you're wearing...?" Yeah, best leave that in the past.
5. Study Hall. Heavens to Betsy! An entire period dedicated to getting stuff done! So that I didn't have to do it after school! That'd be like if they gave us 45 minutes at work every day to schedule appointments, shop online, call our Moms, and look for recipes!
I know, I know -- you can't believe I didn't include My Metabolism and Eighteen-Year Old Guys. Sure, those things were nice, but more than that, I just miss time.
[This post brought to you by another unproductive Friday afternoon.]
Posted at 01:51 PM | Comments (2)November 02, 2010
As You Wish
Contrary to popular belief, this blog is not ALL about me. I mean, okay, it's mostly about me. Like, to a very high percentage. But every once in a great while, I do so enjoy making you smile. (A rhyme!)
So, as per your request, I give you...
Sonny
I texted Lola to send me a photo of her Sonny doll from her iPhone, and I received this weird, Where's-Waldo?-esque series of pictures.
This is Lola's gargoyle, Ned. Ned has replaced Cher in Sonny's new act because Ned requires very few costume changes.
And some trampy blonde has replaced Cher off-stage.
*sigh* Isn't it always some trampy blonde?
Posted at 06:24 PM | Comments (1)