I Only Want It If It Is Exquisite

It was probably the worst day and time to go to the post office. Just a few weeks before Christmas, prime mailing time. It was also 1:00. Everyone though that was a good time. It was not a good time. In fact, it was right smack in the middle of the worker's lunch so there was only one cashier to assist the ever growing line.

I had no choice. My swap buddy needed her gift and I had sold some DVDs that I can only presume were going to be Christmas presents.  So I waited along with everyone else.

Midway to my destination, I noticed the guy in front of me and took a really good look at him.  He was wearing dress slacks, a mid length black leather coat, a hat that was somewhere between a cowboy hat and a fedora, and rose colored glasses.  

He also had nothing in his hands whatsoever.

Unusual as most people had multiple packages and envelopes in our hands and we were all trying to figure out where to set them down to ease our burdens.  So I wondered why the man in front of me was there.* Finally, we reached our destination and he was next.  He stepped up to the counter and very quietly and with great concentration said:

"I would like one exquisite stamp."

While I tried to wrap my head around why someone would wait in line for almost an hour, the cashier tried to find him an exquisite stamp:

"How about this one?"

"Nope."

"This one?"

"Nope."

He eliminated them all until none were left and finally settled on one.  Then he wanted to pay his 42 cents or whatever and take one stamp.  After much debate, he was told he would have to buy the whole book and that he could not, in fact, have just one exquisite stamp.

I guess you can't always get what you want, especially if it is exquisite.

Here's hoping you got everything you wanted today and throughout the year!

Merry Christmas,
Peace and Love,

 

I See Your Barf Bag and Raise You a Bloody Napkin

Did you hear about the woman who was forced to stay on a flight for 10 hours while sitting next to a corpse the entire time? If not, you should read it here.  Her story reminded me of my story that, although it did not involve a corpse, came pretty close.

I am actually referencing # 11 on this list.  It was on a flight back from #1 on that same list.  My coworker and I were on a return flight from Vegas. We were in a three seat row with I on the end, my coworker "S" in the middle, and unknown passenger by the window.  At first, it started off fine. One of our seminar speakers sat down. Boring as he may have been, it would have made our flight a lot more bearable if he had stayed put. Unfortunately, he was traveling with his wife and wanted to sit next to her. So, when her seat mate showed up, I asked if they could switch seats, being the nice person that I am. I like to call that MISTAKE NO. 1.

New guy immediately sat down, put his head against the window and passed out. He reeked of alcohol and looked disheveled.  S was not amused. We took off and all seemed to go well although we kept a worried eye on Drunk Guy. Within 20 minutes, Drunk Guy jumped up, yelled "I HAVE TO GO TO THE RESTROOM" which spurred me into such immediate action, I spilled my drink.  He then proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes in the bathroom banging around.  S was SO not amused.  

He came back, sat down and grabbed a barf bag.  I warned S. I like to call that MISTAKE NO. 2.  She basically started sitting in my lap in order to avoid being thrown up on. While this was occurring, I realize Drunk Guy has a bloody nose and is wiping it with the barf bag.  I immediately tell S to watch out for wayward body fluids. I like to call that MISTAKE NO. 3.  Now S is over my lap and in the aisle declaring that she cannot and WILL not sit next to the guy. They have to move him to some other part of the plane. Panic has set in.

After assuring her that there was no secret place on the plane to put a grown drunk man, I come up with a solution - we switch seats.  All this does is manage to calm her growing panic. However, we spent the next three hours half perched in our seats looking warily at drunk guy expecting the worse.  Any idea how uncomfortable that is? Hugely.

Good news! Drunk guy never puked next to us. In fact, he never moved again.  Bad news! He continued to bleed all over himself until such time as I offered him a napkin. He was down to wiping it on his coat collar.  Sexy!

I learned a lot that flight.  First class is always a better option. You might still have a drunk as a seat mate, but you will have more room. Also, know your coworkers and their phobias before you go on 3 hour plane rides with them. 

I can only hope Drunk Guy learned something too.

Doubtful.



 

It Appears You May Have Lost a Limb or Two...

You know the neighbor behind us, the long-grassed man? B is holding a bit of a grudge against him. It is not because he has long grass, or because he likes to journal his entire life,or sit outside and do teleconferences and teach classes from his computer, or because he used his grass as a storage unit for months on end. It is not even because he puts his composter right at our fence line.

It is his tree.

He has this old tree that is impinging on our property line and interfering with our ability to replace the fence. And we really want to replace the fence.

With a privacy fence.

Nevada loves the tree. It is a mulberry tree and all of these mulberries fall into our yard. Nevada eats them like she has never been fed.  B loves this.

The tree also has enormous branches that are hanging all over the wires. So B called the electric company, oh, about a few months ago. They finally got around to coming to deal with it this weekend.  I can say that the branches are no longer interfering with their lines.  I can't say they are not interfering with anything else. I also cannot give props to a job well done because, well, take a look yourself:

And then look a little closer:

That does not look at all ridiculous does it?  You will note that the majority of the tree is STILL hanging over into our yard. Nevada is relieved. More mulberries for her. YAY.  B just wants the tree gone. I just think this is the stupidest thing I have ever seen. Seriously, I am dumbfounded.

Look at that tree!

So, B's new plan is for me to charm the long-grassed man into removing the tree. Right...we all know how that worked with the neighbors and the air conditioning, right?

Just how high can a privacy fence go anyway?

 

And On the Seventh Day, She Rested a/k/a Garage Sale Hangover

Garage sales are hard.

Garage sales sound like a good idea.

Garage sales are exhausting.

They are also a people watching dream come true.  Here are some examples of what I saw and can remember:

• The guy who wanted to tell us how to place our signs, how we were losing "half of our customer base" due to which way the sign was facing, and how our signs were failing to do their job. When asked how he found out about the sale? "I followed a sign."
• The scary looking man who was swinging a sword around and testing a rifle by aiming it at the sky. He looked insane and I fully expected to have the federal government declare a code orange on our sale. Note: Gun was NOT loaded and no ammunition was nearby.
• Same scary man paid for a $15 item with $12 in cash and $3 in change.
• Then he bought something for a $1 in quarters in dimes.
• Then he pulled out pennies for an old hammer.
• Then he asked if he could use the hammer as a tenderizer.
• Then he said he would just chuck the hammer and run.
• The woman who wanted to buy everything for 10 cents no matter what it was marked for.  She would tell me how much less it was priced at the store and I would tell her to get over to the store and get it.
• She also wanted to have the last word - "have a good day. YOU have a good day" and so on.  When she said see you next year, I seriously considered not only NOT having a garage sale, but actually moving.
• The guy who came both days on his bike and asked for a glass of ice water.

Also, my mother is too kind hearted to have a garage sale and I am not sure she understands how it works despite the numerous ones we have attended ourselves. (LOVE  YOU MOM).  She:

• Bought a high ticket item from our sale despite my assertions that THAT IS NOT ALLOWED.
• She wanted to loan a stranger $2 to buy something else.
• When a woman broke one of a collection of 5 cups, she wanted to give her the rest free because she felt bad.

Also.  People will return to ask about an item they didn't buy. They will do this at 11:00 a.m. the next day when you are not having a garage sale. You will be in your pajamas wondering who is at the door.  You will only answer because you see a baby stroller and think it is a neighbor. It will be the lady that broke something and whom your Mom felt bad about. She will feel bad and have pondered all night about the beauty of the remainder of the set. You will not have the heart to tell her you donated all leftovers. You will tell her it sold.  For A LOT OF MONEY.

Maybe Mom does know best.

Also, for what we made, I estimate we each averaged $.50 an hour in wages.

I quit.

 

I May Have Heels and You May Be Closer But I Will Win

Not everything in my life is a competition, however, I will admit that sometimes I see a competition where none exists. At other times, I create a competition that might not otherwise have been there.  For example, the other day I had to go to an ATM by our house on my way to court because I have to park where they only take cash. Again with the cash only! I never have cash.  So, anyway, I pull up to the corner bank in a dubious area and ponder parking in the fire lane since it is a walk up ATM and the parking spots are about six feet away. Since this bank was near where I got a ticket last year, I decided not to take my chances and park legally.

Into the first parking spot I went. Just as I was turning my car off, this minivan pulls up and parks in the fire lane. The van is a mere two feet from the ATM and I am pissed! Because of my good citizen ways, I am going to have to wait for another person to use the ATM.

Unless I beat them there first, that is.

Just as the guy was getting out of his car, I was out of mine and running in high heels and a suit.  I jumped a curb, ran through some grass and some bushes and got to the ATM in time. I resisted the urge to yell out "FACE" or some other sort of "nah nah" sentiment and hurried my transaction along.  I turned to find the guy leaning against his car.

Guy: You beat me.

Me: Yes, but you got that awesome parking spot.

Guy: But you are wearing a nice suit.

Me: Touche

Okay, I didn't actually say that last thing, but he did compliment me on my suit. I only slightly felt like an ass.  I also felt like an Olympic athlete.

Then I went to the car to catch my breath.

Poka to You, Poka to My Sanity

The building where I work houses a variety of different ethnic groups and we constantly hear a billion languages being spoken at once. This is particularly true on the floor my office is on as there is another business there that is quite large and employs a good number of people.  We will hear them in the hall on their quick 5 minute breaks speaking Chinese, Spanish, Russian and some other ones I probably could not identify.

So when I was in the bathroom yesterday, I was not surprised to hear two women speaking to each other in Russian.  However, I did not expect a voice from the stall next to me to demand from her stall that they entertain her by providing Russian words:

Russian ladies: {speaking Russian I do not understand}
Stall lady:  Say "Goodbye" in Russian!
Russian ladies: {more Russian}
Stall lady: SAY "GOODBYE" IN RUSSIAN
Russian ladies: Poka
Stall lady:  GOODBYE, say it in Russian
Russian ladies: POKA
Stall lady: What?
Russian Ladies: POKA
Stall lady: Huh?
Russian Ladies: It is easy, poka, P-O-K-A
Stall lady; Poka?
Russian Ladies: Yes
Stall lady: Well then POKA
Russian Ladies: Poka to you

Poka indeed.  I am pretty sure their next word the said as going out the door was Russian for fool.*

*That's "durak" people. Spelled phonetically of course.
**The More you Know...

Hackers, Robbers and Fires - Who Can Get Any Work Done Around Here?

So it's been a rough time at the office lately.  I will give you one guess as to what's been happening. Yes, all is revealed in the title. Yes, all of those things happened at my office. In the span of a week. Craziness I tell you.

Monday started off with a warning that our network had stopped an attempted hacking.  Some people had to change their logins and passwords and double secret probation security was put on high alert.  Meanwhile, I wandered around asking why someone would ever want to hack the network of a law firm.

BORING.

Seriously. What will you get there? Boring letters to the court. Boring briefs to the court. There would be no smoking gun. Ever. All of this leads me to believe that it was an inside job by an outside person.

I will give you some time to think about that.

Fast forward to Thursday and I am on may way into the office when I get a phone call telling me not to bother hurrying because our building is on lockdown due to a suspicious person.  That suspicious person? He is called a robber.  He broke into a suite in the early morning hours and then ran away with a safe and some cash trailing behind him like a cartoon.  Another inside job from the outside. I think. I really have no idea about that business.  Luckily by the time I got my daily Starbucks a/k/a Sweet Heaven, all was well and I could get inside.

Fast forward to Friday at lunch.  It was unseasonably warm. I left my jacket in someone else's office.  I packed up my briefcase of work to do at home over the weekend. I was enjoying lunch with other like minded colleagues when one got a phone call. As soon as I heard him say "WHAT?", I just knew it.  "ARE WE LOCKED OUT OF THE BUILDING AGAIN?" Kind of.

Our building was on fire.

No worries. Just an ELECTRICAL fire. We were locked out. Our belongings were locked in. The wind picked up. I spent the next hour and a half driving around the parking lot with some colleagues finding other people to talk to about what was happening. I took a client conference call in the car.  Meanwhile other offices passed their time in different ways.  One group prayed. No one was in danger. Did they really want to go back to work that much? Another group played hackeysack.  Does that even exist anymore? Then some guy broke out a guitar and started playing to a crowd while people taped him on their cellphones. Who the hell brings a guitar to an office building? That guy.

Just as those in charged called it a day, a giant "YAY" came forth from the crowd and we were let back in. Why everyone cheered to be let back into an office on a Friday afternoon when the sun was shining is beyond me.

Also? We could go in but there was no plumbing and only half electrical and no heat.

"YAY."

Don't Hand Me No Lines and Keep Your Jokes to Yourself

Sometimes, at stores, people just want to talk to me.  Usually, I do not want to talk to them.  That does not deter them.  For example, the other day (or month) while in CVS, the man in front of me in line turned and said:

Man:  I am a cop.* 

Man:  Nod if you believe me. 

I don't nod.

I stare blankly.

Man:  Just kidding. 

I don't nod. 

I don't smile. 

He leaves. 

The cashier then says under his breath after the guy leaves "get outta here you crazy ass old man."

Now that got a nod and a smile from me.

*I am not sure what the man was trying to say or joke about with his cop line. I couldn't be bothered to figure it out.  I just needed some sunscreen.**

**Clearly, this happened a while ago what with the sunscreen reference.***

***Did you know that you are supposed to wear sunscreen in the winter? That means this really could have happened yesterday.  But it didn't.  

I See Your Quarter and Raise You a What the Hell Just Happened?

Getting through the security lines at the courthouse is always an adventure. There is one particular court that is always changing the rules - keys out, keys in, no cell phones, who cares about cell phones, feel free to bring your bayonet in by all means.  There is also no telling as to what will set the metal detector off except that it undoubtedly will not be metal.

So it was no surprise that we were waiting there, me and 20 other people, stuck behind a lady that basically had to undress to get through.  I could sense some annoyance coming from behind me, but I decided to focus on my own annoyance instead. First mistake.

As soon as the woman in front of me was cleared and before I could even think to take a step toward the detectors, a woman behind me practically barges her way through me to get into line.  My usual decorum evaporated:

Me: "Oh, EXCUSE ME!

Lady: "What?"

As I stand there with my arms open wide and about to shout "what do you think", she points to the ground behind me and says "There's a quarter."  

Here's where I would tell you that I retorted with a "Nice try old woman. Don't try to distract me with shiny things.  I don't need money that bad" while pushing her out of the way and running through the metal detectors screaming "I am coming your honor."  Sadly, that did not happen.

What happened? I was totally caught off guard and turned to find that there WAS a quarter there on the ground. I then wondered why there was a quarter there and how she knew there was a quarter there and if she was a member of MENSA.  Meanwhile, she was through the detector and off like an apparition.

That is, until I caught up with her on the elevator and she proceeded to answer her cellphone like this:

I AM ON THE ELEVATOR IN COURT AND I CANNOT TALK RIGHT NOW SO I WILL HAVE TO HANG UP, BUT WHY ARE YOU CALLING?

Luckily, I got off one floor after the phone call came in and before I totally lost my hearing.  Later when I relived this event with those that I work with, I could only think of one thing:

I really wanted to pick up that quarter.

My Office Was Raided, But At Least the Buzzing Stopped

Remember a couple of years ago when I had a bug infestation in my office and pondered how they arrived, what they wanted, and if I would survive the horror movie my professional life had become.

I survived.

Two years later, a different office, a corner office and guess what? I have flies. FLIES! I noticed this yesterday when I spotted a huge horse fly perched on my desk lamp eyeing me evilly.  We are on the third floor. Even higher up this time.  I quickly sent out an SOS to my colleagues.  My one coworker thought it was her fly from the day before.  She refused to take it back.  I mostly ignored it and swatted at it occasionally.  I only grumbled under my breath when me and another associate attempted to discuss a case while swinging our arms wildly.  

Then it landed on my FACE!

source

I found an office fly whisperer who came and scooped the fly out of my office with her bare hands. I suggested she put it in the stairwell so it could find its way out of the building.  It did not.  It multiplied.  Are flies like rabbits?

Today I found two on my window. I went to find the person in charge and found him simultaneously talking to a client on the phone and swatting his window with a magazine. I sought out the fly whisperer again.  She declared too many flies and left.  Apparently they were all hanging out in my heating vent. ALL FIVE OF THEM! What the hell?

I complained.  Someone asked me if I was scared of flies.  Um, no, but does that mean it is okay for them to live in my office, glare at me and land on my face? I didn't think so.

The problem was mostly solved by a manic Raid wielding partner that sprayed so much in my office that I almost got high. Or died.  I still am not sure. He used so much in his office, he fumigated himself out and had to leave.

Good news - no more flies. For today.

In other news, the fly whisperer told me that when she went to release yesterday's fly into the staircase, the fly was buzzing a lot and tickling her hand, so she opened the door and threw it in the staircase.  And there was a person out there talking on his cell phone.  I can imagine what his blog said last night:

Today was the strangest day. I was just minding my own business, taking a personal call in the stairway, when some crazy girl bursts out of the door and flings a fly right at my face!

Give that man some Raid!

Dog Days of Trial Are Over. I Have Not Yet Recovered.

That is what a dog looks like after spending 8 hours at doggie daycare.

That is what Dani feels like after spending 8 days in trial.

We both need more of this.

I Am Not MIA, More Like ITM

source

I am not missing in action, but in trial mode.  You know what that is like. It happens every couple of months and pretty much consumes all of the real estate in my brain. Right now, I can only think about are medical records, EMGs and EEGs.  I can tell you the finer points of determining whether a juror hates opposing counsel and how to try to keep that juror on the panel, but other than that, I am just a sleepy puddle.

This trial was only supposed to be three days.  However, tomorrow is day three and due to the court's schedule, surprise legal issues and general insanity, I think we will be on day 7 before we see anything really happening.  

So I will be pretty quiet.  Although I do hope to pump out some posts this weekend. I have a lot I want to share with you. I just need to formulate some words that are not in legalese or about medical conditions that everyone has or no one has.

Until then...get some stress free sleep for me please!

The Cast of Characters May Change, But I Remain Insane

Have I ever told you how crazy the people in my office building are? Not the people I work with, although they have their days, but the people in the other office suites, in the lobby and in the parking lot?  It is enough to make me appear like this on any given day:

Here are some of the characters I deal with:

The Child Walking Around in an Adult Body While Waiting for the Elevator:

Man: Is that an attorney's office?
Me: Yes.
Man: Are you an attorney?
Me: Yes.
Man: Is HE an attorney?
Me: Yes.
Man: Is SHE an attorney?
Me: Yes.
Man: Did you go to law school?
Me: AHHHHHHHHH

The Mr. Obvious Stalker:

Man: Do the elevators typically take this long?
Me: Yes, when one is broken.
Man: One is broken?
Me: Yes. [pointing to Out of Order sign]
Man: So one is not working?
Me: AHHHHHHHHH

The Village Idiot Posing as a Salesman:

Man: I am looking for Danielle's office.
Me: I am Danielle.
Man: No.
Me: What?
Man: She is taller than you.
Me: I am sitting down?
Man: She has your hair.
Me: Does she have my glasses?
Man: Yes.
Me: I am her.
Man: No.
Me: AHHHHHHHHH

The Woman Who Should Have Had a Door Slam in Her Face:

Me: [opening door for lady with VERY full arms]
Lady: I don't need you to open the door.
Lady: I am not going that way.
[and then she followed me through the door]
Me: AHHHHHHHHH

This all happened in the span of one hour on one day.

I wish I were kidding.

It is Like that Movie Mean Girls Except No One Knows What the Hell I Am Talking About!

The other day I was at a fundraiser with people from work. I looked over and gasped* when I saw a guy that looked like the principal** in Mean Girls. Here, I have a clip below - fast forward to 3:17, unless you really love Mean Girls and want to watch all of the scenes like I do. Word of warning, there is loud music involved with this video for some unknown reason so mute on your speakers would be a good idea.

Principal:

Anyway, back to the fundraiser. Enter the principal guy, but quite a bit taller. Enter my huge gasp. Then enter a big fat FAIL when no one there had ever seen Mean Girls!

Are you kidding me?

One of the greatest movies, in my opinion, and definitely one of the greatest movies Lindsay Lohan has ever been in (and probably ever will be).

I just wanted to scream "BOO! Whore."*** But what was the point? They never saw the movie.

That made me sad. I even found the youngest person there and he hadn't seen it. Yes, he was a guy. But B has seen Mean Girls.

Hasn't everyone? Please tell me that my office is some kind of anomaly and that everyone else on Earth has seen this movie at least once (or 500 times like myself)?

I refuse to believe otherwise.

*I gasp a lot. Seriously. B loves it. He really loves it when he makes me gasp. And I mean that in a totally non-sexual way. Pervs!

**Then they kept asking me what his name is - I don't know! (It is Tim Meadows). Then they would ask what other movies he was in - a lot! I don't know their names! (turns out not that many, but a lot of TV show appearances).

**What's your favorite line from Mean Girls? I want a bunch of Mean Girls comment quotes!!

It's Like that Song Jam On It that I Used to Think Was Jamboney and Which Has Nothing to Do with This Post

Did I ever tell you how B hates it when I hear him incorrectly and then ask him why he would say such a thing? Perhaps it is because when I hear something wrong, it is REALLY wrong. As in it makes absolutely no sense. Yet I will swear that is what was said. This gets B in a tizzy. B in a tizzy can be a funny thing.

So, imagine my surprise when the tables were turned. At first I thought B could not spell. Turns out he was suffering from some Dani-fied hearing:

Me: I think the dog is looking for her b-o-n-e.

B: What?

Me: Her b-o-n-e.

B: What is that?

Me: Huh? What?

B: What is that?

Me: Um, a BONE.

Me: Maybe I should start spelling things I don't want YOU to hear. Goodness.

Fast forward a couple of days when I bring that conversation up:

Me: Remember when you couldn't spell bone? Good times.

B: When could I not spell bone?

Me: Um, when I said Jersey was looking for her b-o-n-e and you had NO clue what I was talking about.

B: Oh, that is because I thought you said boney {note rhymes with Monet or Lisa Bonet}

Me: What? What the hell is a boney?

B: I don't know.

Me: That doesn't even make any sense.

B: Well that's what I heard.

Well, well, well. I guess we are all crazy round these parts.

As if that was in dispute.

*Tell me you didn't just start seeking Jam On It but it really sounded like you were singing "Jamoney" or "Jamboney."

**I am singing it and it is disturbing Jersey's sleep. I think she secretly likes it though. Or else she wants her b-o-n-e.

It's All Full of Hilarity Until the Weather Interrupts Your Movie Watching Time

I saw this video about a week ago and thought it was absolutely hilarious. This woman called the TV station to complain about the weather guy interrupting the season finale of Criminal Minds to alert viewers of severe weather. After all, he could have just waited until a commercial, right?

Take a listen:

My favorite parts included:

"This is nowhere near ME"

to the ultimate:

"I really don't care about THOSE people"

That much is obvious.

And so I forwarded this video on and made fun of the video. I talked about how the lady was all "ME, ME, ME" and had no empathy for those that could be in the midst of a tornado or something. I thought I would NEVER be like this lady. After all, which is more important TV or life? Well, I thought I knew the answer.

Until last night.

There I was watching From Dusk Til Dawn for about the 17th billion time when it was interrupted with a LOUD beep and an old 80s looking computer font thing that said there was a severe weather warning for my county until 10 minutes from then. I listened carefully to make sure it was nowhere near me and got only mildly irritated when I realized it wasn't and that I was missing the sexy strip dance with Salma Hayek.

Then the second interruption came five minutes later to let me know that it had expanded to another county. Again, nowhere near me. Because it came so fast on the heels of the last one, I may have muttered "Really?"

Then the third interruption came five minutes later. This one brought news of a tornado funnel being seen. WAY far away from me, although I listened carefully to make sure it was not me. To this I said, "Okay..."

Let me tell you, though, after TWO more interruptions, both of which were identical to each other and, actually, identical to the very first one, I actually screamed "COME ONNN!!!"

Yes, I became that woman. I thought things like "Don't they know this is the GOOD part?" and "This weather is nowhere near me!" and "I should just go to flippin' bed if I am just staying up to hear a bunch of beeping!"

In my defense, I did not call the cable station and yell at them. I am intelligent enough to know how important severe weather alerts are to those in the area.

But, if it had been the series finale of Lost, I cannot say what I would have done...

Crime Watch Wednesday: If You Don't Like That Document, I Have Some Others for You

This week's Crime Watch Wednesday brings us once again a tale of a drunk driver trying to pretend he is anything but drunk. I tell ya, I never can get enough of the drunk tales. Each so wasted. Each with such unique ways of showing it.

Police stopped a man they spotted weaving in the roadway. He smelled of alcohol and admitted to drinking. He then produced an expired registration. When told it was expired, he proceeded to look through all of his documents again and produced the same exact expired registration. He was arrested on the spot.

Now, what is really funny about this story to me is that I had the exact same thing happen to me in a deposition, except the deponent was not drunk. Well, at least I don't think she was. I asked her to produce a copy of the referral letter from the treating physician she received. She flipped through a bunch of papers and confidently handed me one. When I told her that was a copy of a prescription for medication, not a referral letter, she proceeded to again flip through the documents and, again, confidently hand me another one. This time it was a fax cover sheet. Addressed to the attorney sitting next to her.

This game went on for 15 minutes too long at which point she just stopped handing me documents, put the papers down and looked at me like "There. Aren't I a great witness, giving you everything you asked for." I never did get the referral letter.

She might be related to this guy.

Is it Aggressive Chewing or Insanely Maniacal Destruction?

Jersey is what you would call an "aggressive chewer." That means there are not a lot of toys that I can buy her. Almost every single cute or fun looking toy says "not for aggressive chewers." I know they are right because I can see the little parts that she would bite off in a heartbeat.

This makes my job a bit harder. Being so aggressive and chewy, Jersey needs to be occupied often or else she will take to chewing the rug, the carpeting or poor Brad. We buy 1-2 rawhides a week and I think we may be up to 3 now.

So, the other day, when I was in the store and found a line of heavy, duty, durable toy line made for those dogs that love to chew, I felt that I stumbled into heaven. Well, doggie heaven. I thought about which one to buy first and settled on the three ring one. The rubber rings were even chicken flavored.

Jersey, in her typical fashion, gingerly took the toy from me, ran away with it and started to go to town on it. She LOVED it.

Notice that this new toy is so awesome, even the rawhide in the background went untouched.

A mere 12 hours later I was awakened by Jersey swinging her head ferociously on the bed with something in her mouth. It was the rope ring. She managed to tear it apart. By the time I awoke, the rope was a collection of strings. B called that the "weak link."

I think Jersey is a superhero dog.

Of Birthdays, Gas Cans and Limited Internet

I have to hurry up and write this post because B has informed me that he wants to get on the internet "soon" and our router is broke so only one of us can be on at a time. What kind of shit is that? And it was my birthday yesterday. So technically this is my birthday week and I should have ALL of the internet time I want, but apparently not.

So I know you are thinking I probably had a magical birthday filled with laughter, presents, sleeping in and cupcakes. Alas, that is not true. Although I often fancy that is the life I lead, in reality my birthday was like any other day save a few things.

First, unlike my friend who works for the county and gets her birthday off as a HOLIDAY, I had to go to the office. The plan was to leave early. I also went in late because, face it, if you can't sleep in a little on your birthday, when can you? (P.S. the answer is all of the other days this week and last. I seem to have a problem).

My one colleague and I had a meeting at noon so off we went. Before we left, however, we planned on going to lunch after and even planned the place and exactly what we were having. We were already starving. As the meeting finished, I looked down and saw that the office called. Then the office called my colleague. Another colleague was stranded on the freeway because her car ran out of gas.

I repeat - her car ran out of gas. On.The.Freeway.

She is in her late 40s. Too old to run out of gas. Too old to run out of gas four times in the last six months. So, yes, we had to go rescue her. No, she was not nearby. Yes, she called us 18 times during the drive to keep us updated. No, I was not amused. By then we were RAVISHED. When my colleague asked her how this happened she thanked us for coming but then told us not to ask anything else because she was cranky.

I WAS CRANKY. And starving. Sigh.

I ate lunch at 2:00. I left the office at 4:00. Least productive day ever and it wasn't even that fun. On a side note, I texted B when we were on the side of the freeway and my two cohorts were messing around with the gas can.* He responded with "at least you know your way around a gas can. Smart ass.

Two weeks ago, I decided to go fill up my tank. I took Jersey for the ride because B was mowing the lawn and she was playing chicken with the mower. B insisted that I fill up the gas can for the mower. He quickly showed me how to open it and sent me on my way.

Yeah, I couldn't open it when I got there. I drove back home, told him, listened to him sigh, then he opened it and MADE ME GO BACK. Jersey and I were not amused. Later he told me that he would never come rescue me if I were out of gas. I just laughed and told him I would find some man to do it. He responded with:

"Oh, like today."

I didn't even try, mister. I didn't even try.

*No, I did not get out of the car to assist with the gas can. I told them it was too dangerous as my side was on the traffic side. Later my one colleague told everyone that I said "I'm not getting out to do shit." I didn't say that, but it sure does sound like me.

Dear B: You Need to Learn to Be a Better Wingman

When I was on the dating scene I had the best wingman. Actually I had a few. We knew what our jobs were as wingmen - RESCUE, RESCUE, RESCUE. This could be in the form of redirecting the attacker, redirecting the situation, taking one for the team, making introductions, etc. You name it, we did it.

WE WERE THERE FOR EACH OTHER.

Now, I am married and I have a built in wingman. Isn't that what a life partner is supposed to do? Support their spouse? Be their backup? I thought so as well. I am here to tell you, however, my wingman is missing a wing or two.

It all started when I somehow became part of the committee to plan my 20 year high school reunion.* I am not entirely sure how this happened other than I responded in a Facebook thread something like "let me know if you need anything" and now I am on a committee of four and responsible for one fourth of the down payment for the hall? Well, then.

Anyhow, the "committee" decided they needed to meet in person to get things rolling. It turns out that the head girl lives just two blocks from me. It also turned out that they wanted to have the meeting at a favorite restaurant of B's.

Perfect.

The Plan

B and I would go have dinner at the restaurant an hour before the meeting was to take place. He would then leave me at the meeting and the girl that lived a couple blocks away would drive me home. I told him to be near his phone in case I needed a rescue. You know, like a wingman.

Perfect.

The Problem

I didn't tell anyone but B about this plan. Therefore, the girl that lived nearby had no clue that I was relying upon her to get me home.

Second problem - two of the four were stay at home moms who hit the jackpot with this meeting in that they could stay out late and drink. Me? I had court in the morning. So as the "meeting" dragged on through multiple glasses of wine and on to coffees with Bailey's, I started to get worried that I would never make it home.

When the head girl decided she was going to read off all 223 names of the people we graduated with to see if we remembered them, the third girl smartly ran off because she had to work in the morning. She was too quick for me. Plus she lived in an entirely different direction.

The Solution

My wingman will save me, I thought. I covertly texted B:

"Can you please come get me?"

This was at 10 pm. The "meeting" started at 7 pm. The coffees were ordered at 10:30. My phone remained silent despite my checking it for messages every 2.3 seconds.

The Result

Over one hour after the original text, B calls. I answer it at the table speaking in code:

B: Why didn't you call me?

Me: Because.

B: I would have came right away.

Me: Can you assist at all?

B: Give me five minutes.

I spent the next 15 trying to figure out how to extract myself from the situation** without being obvious.

I then spent the next 10 minutes berating B's wingman skills. B did make some valuable suggestions such as:

"Why didn't you just tell them you were supposed to call me at X time to pick you up and then call you?"

It was obvious that I was trapped and in unnatural surroundings. The exhuastion of having to pretend I vividly remembered 222 other people, every teacher we ever had, and the last school play took all of my brain cells. B is lucky I remembered his number. Well, actually I am lucky. Also, side note, B does not know my phone number. At all. Wrap your brain around that for a minute.

Anyhow, it's official. B is no wingman. That is why next time I am sending him to the committee meeting as my proxy.

Bet he learns my number after that.

*Damn that makes me sound old!

**Everytime I hear "the situation" in any situation, I think of the Jersey Shore. Damn you MTV with your mindless brainwashing.