day 11013: yes, i live with my mother

Yesterday, the coworkers were ribbing me about the lunch the Maternal One had packed for me. I took the hilarity with much grace and chuckled along. Afterall, if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?

This morning, as the Maternal One and I were leaving the house (she to jury duty and me to monkeyco), she casually remarked, "How was lunch yesterday? That was mine. You were supposed to take a banana."

day 11011: sleepwalking

You know you're tired and a tad overworked when you go to put toothpaste on your toothbrush, and end up with a mouthful of soap.

day 11010: the art of being clueless... lesson one... aka welcome to the friendzone

When you're trying to persuade your crush to come party in a city he doesn't like, it's ok to suggest that he bring a friend. However, when he asks the question of who he should bring, the answer IS NOT "someone cute."

No matter how smart the guy might be, he can't read your mind that you actually wanted him to set up your coworker, and not that you wanted him to bring you a date.

Welcome to the friendzone...

day 11005: for shits and giggles

Gas... $48.68
Ticket... $42.00
Hotel for one night... $40.69

Driving 5 1/2 hours to watch a hockey game I don't remember... priceless...

What doesn't kill you makes for one helluva story afterwards...

day 11002: friday afternoon nice-to-haves

1. Hindsight… aka Seamonkey retirement home:

The seamonkeys have gone and grown up. They’ve had babies of their own who then probably had babies of their own. Except that I no longer care because the adults are just too darn gross looking (like cockroaches of the sea, but much smaller). Call me lookcist, but I’ve decided that if a pet is not cute and cuddly, it’s not really a pet at all. Pets are interactive. Seamonkeys are just burdens of ocean society.

If anyone is looking for a 3 time a week responsibility (i.e. feeding the slimy things Monday, Wednesday, Friday), shoot me an email. The office pets are free to a good home. No one in the office wants them, and if I run out of food, and don’t want to invest another $3 + $10 shipping/handling for more, Coworker Chick will call the SPCA on me.

If I don’t hear from anyone within a week, maybe I’ll sell them on ebay and call them Elvis reincarnations. They are a little loopy after all.

2. Foresight… aka Rent-a-Date:

Some days, I’d like to have a posse of tall-dark-and-handsomes at my beck and call. Not so much because I’m single, but more so that sometimes it really sucks ass to be single. Especially the times when, say hypothetically, you have a dinner two Fridays from now with a group of old friends where you know that your ex, his wife, and their freshborn lovechild will also be there. Times like these, it’s important for a girl to have a completely swoon-overable date - not to make the ex jealous (because you are soooo wayyyy over him as he is so obviously over you), but because a girl needs to have someone to make out with in the corner while everyone else is ooohing and ahhhing over the little crackerjack. Because sure as hell, you can’t be going over there saying how cute the baby is, and you’d look like a freak sitting in the corner by yourself while everyone else giggles over what the baby burped up. (Forgive me. My clock hasn’t started ticking yet… no maternal instincts over here).

Novel idea…if you’re free Friday, February 2, 2007 and want to play the part of my tall-dark-and-handsome boyfriend, shoot me an email. Only people with awesome personalities need apply. Bonus points for you if you really are tall-dark-and-handsome AND completely swoon-overable. I’ll buy you dinner and make out with you in the corner.

[Disclaimer… I’m only going to PRETEND to be your girlfriend. I will not go home to meet your mother.]

~

That’s it for now. I’m driving to Pittsburgh tomorrow to watch Sidney Crosby kill the Leafs. I love my team, but darn it, Sidney’s just so gosh-darn cute. Hm… I wonder if he’d be my tall-dark-and-handsome… oooohhhh…

day 11001: public service announcement

Thanks to the anonymous dude who told a friend that treehugger.com borrowed a picture off my foodblog without me knowing about it. I've written them a friendly email asking them to cease and desist.

Remember friends, stealing sucks, and it sucks more if someone's making money off what they're stealing - especially now 'cuz I'm pulling 14+ hour days, and I'm not getting a penny for the ten seconds it took out of my busy life to take that picture. Not that it's about the money. It's never about the money. It's all about the bragging rights.

So, if you're the stealer, bad karma on you.

Anonymous dude... you rock. I *heart* you.

[As an aside, can I say how minorly peeved I am that people used my picture and my foodblog to promote their personal cause? I was talking SUCKY BAGELS, people, not sucky packaging.]

day 11000: it's the most wonderful time of the year... for the billionth time...

*message flashes on screen*

Coworker Chick: So what's he like?

Schmassion: Who?

Coworker Chick: The new auditor...

Schmassion: Remember Lord of the Rings?

Coworker Chick: Say no more

day 10992: over the cubicle wall

Coworker Chick: Finally understand the "Beefeater" name.

*click*

Schmassion: That beats my theory that they were named after the tomatoe.

*pause*

[sound of snickering fills the air]

Coworker Chick: You mean the "Beefsteak" tomatoe?

Schmassion: Right...

day 10991: i swear, it wasn't the alcohol

I only slept two hours on Friday night. I tossed and I turned. I watched tv. I surfed the net and even tried to google-stalk myself. I did everything short of making myself some warm milk. Wait, I think I did that too.

This afternoon, I finally figured out why... no one told me that Diet Coke wasn't caffeine free. I stand corrected. Next time it will be back to the gin and sodas. No more Havana Clubs and Diet Cokes for me.

day 10988: living your dream

If I were to follow my dreams, I'd be a donut maker. But I'd be a really bad donut maker because my donuts don't come out in little round "O"s... just as squiggly pieces of fried dough.

Why do I keep dreaming that I'm a donut maker? What does this mean?

day 10985: simply too easy going

It only took me 30 years and 28 days to realize that I don't like hotdogs. I probably knew it before, but somehow it never occurred to me how much I actually dislike them. So I started making a list of everything else that I don't like, and this is what I've come up with (thus far)...

- hotdogs
- dried scallops
- squid
- uncertainty
- waiting for people
- guilt
- disappointing someone or being disappointed
- dishonesty
- pretense and insincerity
- obligations
- being around too many people
- bell peppers
- complaining (but I do it anyway)
- procrastinating (but I do it anyway)
- feeling trapped
- fried bananas
- conflict
- jealousy
- the blame game
- secrets
- ending friendships
- disorganization
- interuptions
- the colour purple
- seamonkeys
- bourbon, sambuca, anisette, absinthe, silver tequila

To be fair, I also started a list of things that I do like, but funny how it is, the list is not nearly as long as the things I don't like...

day 10984: of poker and chickflicks

If you had found me, last night would have been different. You’d have brushed the snow from my lashes and kissed me with a soft, gentle, lingering kiss. I’d have smiled and wished you a happy new year, and teasingly touched your oh-so-cold nose. Then you'd have grabbed my mittened hand and we’d run slipping and sliding through the snow.

Happy New Year.