It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Shreds a Finger

Last week I was having problems with my assistant. She wasn't assisting me. At all. Not only that, but what she was doing reached new heights of problematic so I took it up with my HR guy. Later, my colleague reported that my assistant was in there talking to the HR guy:

J: Sounds like HR guy is having a meeting with your assistant.

Me: I was wondering. Can you hear them?

J: Not really. Sometimes I can. It cuts in and out. I could definitely tell that it was her talking about the things you emailed her. *

Me: Oh good. I hope she doesn't plan on killing me later.

J: Ha. Ha.

Me: It's all fun and games until someone has a weapon.

J: Go and take her scissors out of her desk. Although I guess she could always try to stab you with a pencil.

Me: Great! I have already suffered one scissor injury already. Another one would just make this week PERFECT.

Yes, I had already been cut with scissors. The night before. By my HUSBAND. You see, my mother decided to gift me with these scissors that I guess would be called shredding scissors. They have many blades and can shred documents. Although not credit cards. Trust. I have the injury to prove it.

B was very eager to test out these new scissors and I insisted they could cut up credit cards. In fact, I was going to hand him one to cut up RIGHT THEN. So I leaned over with the card and B totally cut my finger. I immediately screamed "LOOK WHAT YOU DID" to which he responded "it is so deep it is not even bleeding yet." Nice.

Then it started bleeding. Yes, I thought I might have to get stitches. No, I did not. Yes, I had to beg B to help me put a band aid on it despite the fact that he is the one that injured me. So he slapped some Neosporin on it and declared "It will be healed in 5 days. That is what the tube said." For the record, there is a scar.

And I still have that damn credit card.**

*Apparently my assistant did not like my helpful emails pointing out her problematic assisting.

**But I don't have that assistant anymore.

***I win.

Don't Even Try it Woman, This is MY Territory

On Sunday, B and I decided to hit a few open houses in our neighborhood to see what is for sale, how much they are asking and to satisfy our general need to snoop in other people's homes. After seeing way too much wallpaper and a gorgeous house on our street but out of our price range, we decided to wrap it up with one final house that B had been to before with the "sexy" kitchen (as one realtor described it).

A "sexy" kitchen, apparently, is one that is newly remodeled while still keeping the charm of the old house. And you can cook up a storm in there. I will admit, even I gasped upon seeing it.

After leaving that area, B called down to me from the staircase to "come check out the third floor." As I was turning the staircase to head up, I hear this small voice say to me very angrily:

HEY! WE ARE CHECKING THIS OUT.

I look down to see a small boy about 6 right up in my face, pointing a finger at me. He looked extremely pissed off that anyone would dare check out this house while he and his family are checking it out. Territorial, much? It must be a joy to play at his house "HEY! *I* am playing with THAT toy." Of course, since I am not a 6 year old kid, I found the exchange amusing:

Me: Wait. YOU are checking out this house?

Boy: YES!!

Me: Do YOU want to live in this house?

Boy: YES!!

Me: Well, you can have it then as I already have a house of my own.

Boy: {grumbles}

Me: Is that okay? Are we good?

Boy: Yes.

And then he stalked away toward the kitchen. When I reached the top of the staircase, B declared "that is one defensive child!"

He must like the sexy kitchen.

It's Fat Tuesday Which Means Time for Sacrifice and Defining the Word "Bread"

Today is Fat Tuesday a/k/a Paczki Day a/k/a PARTY. Do you know what a paczki is? It is a big donut made of lard, sugar and yummy goodness. It is well worth the 4,000 calories. If you are lucky to get one. Me? I had the grocery store kind which means I probably only had 2,000 calories.

Meanwhile, I was discussing with people in the office what I was giving up for Lent. Every year I pretty much give up the same thing, sweets (candy, cookies, desert, etc). It has become second nature for me and even though I LOVE those things, I no longer have difficulty not eating them during Lent. Not really much of a sacrifice now is it?

So this year I decided to up the ante. I am giving up TWO things - sweets* and bread. Random I know, but I love bread. The inspiration behind this sacrifice came to me when I was pondering one day people that don't eat bread. What the heck is wrong with them, I thought. And a sacrifice was born.

And so I told people at the office. Little did I know that I was then going to have to define "bread." Isn't it self explanatory?

Me: I am giving up bread.

Person: What do you mean, bread?

Me: You know, BREAD.

Person: Describe it for me.

Me: Rolls, sandwich bread, hamburger buns...

Person: {gasp} But how will you eat a HAMBURGER?

Me: Without a bun?

Person: What about a pita?

Me: Yup, bread.

Person: What about pasta?

Me: WHAT?

Me: Pasta is not bread! BLASPHEMY!

Person: Well, it is in the same triangle on the food chart.

Me: Wait. What? Huh?

Also poorly timed, the four boxes of Girl Scout Cookies that were delivered to my house tonight. Luckily B has almost polished one of them off.** I am going to have to save the other two. I also believe I ordered four more from someone else. Such a mystery.

That reminds me of the one time my Mom ordered a bunch of Girl Scout Cookies and gave them to me for safekeeping. I stored them throughout Lent in my fridge. Then on Easter I tore into my own Girl Scout Cookies with a little help from B. Soon I was out but my craving was not. Come August when my Mom asked for her cookies I just gave her a blank look followed by a "Crap..."

She never let me hold her cookies again.

*I carved out an exception for pumpkin pie from our fish and chips place because I always get screwed out of eating it since we go there mostly during Lent.

**I may have had one or two and they are small boxes. Damn Girl Scouts with their addictive cookies that they charge an arm and leg for and then shrink the box every year. I NOTICED GIRL SCOUTS! You cannot pull one over on me.

***Yeah, I still ordered 8 boxes. I am a sucker.

Vicky Runs My Life. As She Should Because She is Good at It. Is She Listening?

Vicky came to me on Christmas morning in the hands of B. She was wrapped in a little box and I knew exactly what she was. Probably because B asked me a month prior if I wanted her, informed me when he ordered her, and told me when she arrived at the house. Mystery runs deep with that one.

Vicky is my new BFF. She is very knowledgeable. It is almost like she has a huge database in her head. She also speaks perfect English. As a result, right away I knew her name must be Victoria. However, since we became such fast friends, I now call her Vicky for short.

Victoria, or Vicky for short, is my new Garmin nuvi 205, or GPS for short.* She is currently my most treasured possession. Of course, she is also my most dangerous possession. Really! I no longer have to think at all. I put in the address and Vicky gets me there. She tells me when to turn, even issuing up to two warnings before reaching the desired turn mark.

You can't outsmart Vicky. If you decide you do not like her route, which is always the best route by the way**, she will simply speak to you in her perfect English and say "Recalculating" and the next thing you know, Vicky has a new route planned and is calmly telling you when to turn and where to go without even a hint of anger in her voice.

How is Vicky dangerous, you ask? Well, every time I use her, I rely on her that much more. Go ahead. Ask me how to get to my mother's house that I have driven to every week (and sometimes twice) for the past 6 years. I DON'T KNOW. I can tell you the route I used to take before Vicky came in my life, but that would be the INCORRECT ROUTE.

And when I forget Vicky? DISASTER. Sometimes I don't turn where I need to because I don't hear her voice saying "Turn now." Then when I realize that I missed my turn I start screaming "RECALCULATE" but, sadly, there is no one there to do this for me. So I drive aimlessly around moaning Vicky's name quietly or until something starts to look familiar. Like our driveway because I was just down the block.

Seriously, though, Vicky is wonderful. B and I were driving around looking at Christmas lights with Jersey (who was thrilled as you can imagine) and just having the map on the dash helped when B instructed me to turn down a dead end road. When I told him it was a dead end, he replied "I suppose so." No, it IS A DEAD END ROAD. VICKY SAID SO!!

Yes, B made fun of me the first day for arguing with Vicky - "Yes, I HEAR you. I will turn" or "I can't turn there is a RED LIGHT" - until he drove with her and soon did the same thing. However, he soon came to realize Vicky's infinite wisdom and even took her on a field trip with his parents. Now, when faced with a tough question, even those not about driving, we often ask ourselves "What would Vicky do?"

The answer is always: Turn right now.

And so we do.

*I don't know if that is technically the short version, but all the cool kids call it that.

**It is always the best route because Vicky tells me it is.

***You do NOT argue with Vicky.

***help

Flashback Friday: The Dating Blues

Recently a woman went on the date of her life. Not in a good way, however. You see, at the end of the date, the guy asked for her car keys because he forgot his wallet and he took off with her car. Carjacked, robbed and stood up all on the same date. Isn't that something? It was the talk of all of the radio stations around here and the DJs asked for callers to give their best "worst date" story. That is when I remembered this:

Flash back about 6 years ago. I was headed out of town to a legal conference with my boss. You will remember him from here. Anyway, at these conferences, vendors would wine and dine us. This time was no exception. One of the vendors set up a dinner and conference at the House of Blues. Sounded like it would be a fantastic time. My boss thought it would be better if I had a date. I really didn't care one way or another, but didn't mind a little adventure. So he called an attorney who he knew in that city and arranged for one of his associates to accompany me to the dinner and a show. We talked before I headed out of town and he seemed normal enough. He was an attorney - meh, but other than that all was well.

On the night of the dinner, many of the attendees and the vendors knew about this setup so all I hoped is that it would not be awkward*. Soon enough he showed up, we found each other and proceeded on our "date." He was nice enough, average looking. During dinner we had some conversation, but mostly it was group conversation. It was a really nice dinner - steak, seafood, appetizers. I recall at the time the talk around the table was about The Passion of the Christ as it had just came out. My date was Jewish. However, I did not sense any uneasiness on his behalf.

Around 10:30 or so, we all headed down to see the concert. I grabbed us a table with some of the other attendees. Then my date said he had to go to the bathroom and would be right back. After he left, I turned to say something to one of the guys at the table when I realized:

...he took his jacket with him...

...to the bathroom...

that man was NOT coming back. I was flabbergasted. Heck, if he wanted to leave, all he had to do was say it was late, he had work, fake a phone call, yawn a lot, but to PRETEND to go to the bathroom never to return? This was an adult!

So I tell the guy at the table what I suspect to be true. Then the vendor host walks by and asks where my date is, so I tell her too. They assure me he will return. No. Nobody takes the coat with them to the bathroom.

He never returned.

I got stood up in the MIDDLE of the date. Classic.

The next day I told my boss who promptly asked what I had did to cause such a thing to occur. Right, because I totally deserved to be left in the House of Blues like that.

I stood my boss up for dinner that night.

What comes around goes around.

*Right now, B is reading this and saying OCKward. He thinks that is how I pronounce it. Now I insist on only pronouncing it with a British accent.

Just a Little Slice of Life...

{One evening late at night in the Riddler household a woman enters the room to find her husband engrossed in his laptop}

Me: What I am about to say to you is VERY important.

B: Okay.

Me: Are you listening?

B: Yes.

Me: I need you to watch Quantum of Solace so I can mail it back to Netflix as those bastards are sending you two new movies and me none.

B: I already mailed it back.

Me: When?

B: Today. YOU mailed it back! I gave it to you! You took it to the office!

Me: Huh.

Me: Thanks.

{Woman exits room walking tall and strong as if she just made a point}

Office Shorts

It's been a while since I posted about the office. Here are some things I have been collecting:

Partner: The milk of human kindness flows through my veins.

Reply by passerby: Yeah, sour milk.

*

After receiving a warning at work not to download the Blackberry operating system update because there were bugs, the following conversation took place:

Girl: Did you get the email about Blackberrys?

Me: Yep. I didn't download it.

Girl: Should I tell other girl?

Me: No. She has an iPhone.

Girl: What's the difference?

Me: It isn't a Blackberry...

*

So you are calling someone in my office and you get my voicemail instead. I say I am out of my office. I do not say I work for the person you are trying to call yet you feel it is appropriate to just continue on with your message anyway..."Yeah, this message is for so and so, this is stupid and here is my phone number. Oh and tell him it is about this...no wait, it is about this. Yeah, tell him it is about that."

Yeah, I'll get right on that.

*

Girl 1: Can you smell that stinky cigarette smoke on her? (Referencing girl that just walked in)

Girl 2: No but I have allergies.

Girl 1: I think it is because you smoke.

Girl 2: What I can't smell stinky things because I smoke?

Girl 1: Exactly.

*

Secretary to person on phone: "Oh what a weave and the web is tangled..."

*

Partner: Did your clock go haywire?

Secretary: I am not late, am I?

Boss: No, you are early

*

What a boss likes to hear:

Boss: What is on your schedule today?

Employee: You, you and you.

And the House Springs Alive...

I know that I have told you about the windows in our house before and how they are crazy to maneuver and how we almost couldn't shut one in the dead of winter when we were looking at the house, but I don't think I have ever posted about what they look like open. Frankly, it is probably because up until last weekend it has been consistently 30 or zero in these parts. There was no opening of the windows.

Anyway, as you can see, the windows actually open out, kind of like crank windows without the cranking. Even though I have seem them open numerous times, I always think it makes the house look like a person or a bug or something. It is just a bit crazy to see those windows sticking out like that. See for yourself:

And some closer shots:

The upside of these windows all over the house is that we get quite the breeze which is nice as we have no air conditioning. On the summer days without breeze, I guess we will just swelter or sleep in the basement or something.

The downside of the breeze? Well the windiness of it all - things fly all over, sometimes even my hair. We also did not realize how many doors we would need to prop open and how we do not own even one door stop.

So, instead of door stops, we are currently using:

• A scrunched up rug that needs to be dry cleaned
• An iron
• My new scanner (still in box)
• One of those lighter things to light candles
• A wooden log from the fireplace

I guess I need to head to Bed, Bath and Beyond.

Maybe tomorrow.*

*This is a shout out to B who claims that I "put off everything until tomorrow." Yep, I do.

You Can Please Some of the People...Never!

Nothing like going out with the family to hear some harsh criticism of your blog:

Bro - doesn't like posts with a lot of words, didn't understand the post about the Googlers (thought the google searches were riddles I made up because yes, if I attempted a riddle it would totally be "riddle about two boxes three boxes two boxes"), doesn't like posts about cats (mind you I haven't posted about the cats since October except an occasional reference or Chester sticking his head in B's picture).*

Dad - doesn't like renovation pictures and I quote "BEFORE and AFTER - BORING"**

B - thinks it should be all pictures and few words and captions with the pictures, then added it should be all about him***

So according to these "fans" who think they make up 1/3 of my readership (they do not), from now on my posts will have to consist of:

Lots of pictures but no words

No pictures of cats

No pictures of renovations

All about B

But no pictures of B

Sorry, fingers, if this crew had it their way, I could only post more pictures of my pantry apparently. Good thing I don't listen to them.

And to end, I leave you with this scenario that played out at Easter dinner in public shortly after the above criticisms. Right in the middle of a story, my father says:

"And the sign said ACME Dildo Shop - big or small you can have them all, custom fitted"

...just as the waitress was pouring our coffee.

And Jesus wept.

*Bro admits to having not read my blog in quite some time. That is obvious.

**Dad NEVER reads my blog but just happened to read it on Easter because my Mom left it up on the computer purposely.

***B only reads blogs about Jon and Kate Plus Eight. That, alone, disqualifies him from all opinions.

Just out of spite, here is a picture of the cats in one of their rare loving brotherly moments. At least they are not making out which they also tend to do.

Laying Down the Law

Upon arriving home last night, B rushed me into our bedroom so that I could see all the work he had done. On the way up there he informed me "there are some new rules" in reference to the bedroom. I love when B tries to institute new rules. While some of them make sense, some of them are just too cute like the "one shoe in, one shoe out" rule where if I buy a new pair of shoes, I have to get rid of a different pair. As if that is going to happen. Whenever B comes up with what I think is a harebrained rule, I just come up with a counter one that is equally harebrained and effects him like the "one watch in, one watch out rule." You don't mess with B's watches. Match. Point. Win. You don't play logic games with an attorney.

So, anyway, I headed upstairs eager to see the bedroom and to hear about this new "rule." B had painted our bedroom the night before and that day had apparently put everything back in the room including our dressers on the respective sides of the room. That sound crazy, perhaps, but it is strange to go to your dresser and have someone else's alarm clock on it. Maybe I am just strange.

Anyway, it looks good. Much better than what we started with and I even like the color of the walls - "porpoise" despite the fact I thought it should be green like a turtle (obviously confusing "tortoise" with "porpoise" much to B's amusement). After telling me all that he had done, B announced his new "rule":

B: [pointing] And THAT will not be in this room.

Me: What are you pointing at?

B: That! I am pointing at that hamper.

Me: You mean the LAUNDRY BASKET?

B: Yes.

Me: That is not a hamper. It is a laundry basket.

B: Whatever.

Me: Um, it is YOUR laundry basket.

Me: It had YOUR clothes in it.

B: Well, it doesn't anymore.

Me: Um, okay. But it is still YOUR laundry basket. Mine is in the other room with that other thing I call a hamper.

B: I am just saying, no laundry baskets in the room anymore.

Me: So, basically you just instituted a new rule about yourself?

B: Whatever.

Yep, way to lay down the law. To yourself. About yourself. Glad I could be there as a witness though.

I will help keep both of "you" in line.

Do You Like My Purse?

This is my purse.  Just a normal looking big black purse.  It is not that interesting.  However, what is inside just very well may be.  I decided today I must clean out my purse because it weighs approximately 10 pounds.  This was also prompted by the client that said something to me along the lines of "that's not a purse - that's a suitcase" and my partner who quickly followed with "you're such a girl." Hmmm.

So after taking a brief look inside my purse, I decided it was too crazy not to share.  Men - take note - women carry a whole bunch of shit in their purse for no good reason.  Indeed, here is what I found:

First section (yet it is divided into three sections with an additional inside pocket and two outside pockets - who needs all that? Women! To keep us organized, of course).

Cell phone

Itouch (heavy and only goes to and from the office. Not sure why I don't leave it there locked up. Maybe because that would be smart)

Cell phone charger (don't normally carry that but the phone was low on juice and I needed to charge it while at the office)

Pack of gum (need fresh breath while hobsnobbing)

Makeup bag containing mirror, Carmex, lipgloss, lipstick, another lipgloss, another lip balm, hand sanitizer, three things of floss (I rarely floss), a safety pin and a ponytail holder (yes women also need bags inside of bags - they keep us organized - sensing the theme yet?)

Two Kleenexes (not used, thank you very much)

Business card holder (which I can never pull out easily when a potential client is around, only when I am looking for something else)

Gum wrapper (useless)

Piece of paper with gum in it (nice - I am almost ashamed to admit this but you have put it somewhere when you are in court and there is no trash)

26 cents

Second section (yes we are only on two out of three sections and haven't gone near the inside pocket or outside pockets):

Dunkin Donut coupon

Cheerios coupons

Envelope with expense check stub (yay expense checks!)

Eyeglass cleaner cloth

Samples of feminine products I was supposed to leave at office (oops)

Oral B Brush Up sample

Wallet (with credit cards, driver's license, grocery store cards, etc)

Calculator

Sample of lens cleaning cloth

2 more hand sanitizers (what the hell?)

2 more samples of floss (ditto)

Pen

Crystal Light Immunity sample 

Antibacterial towelette (not used)

Sample of Excedrin extra strength (I like samples and Excedrin)

Splenda Flavor Blends French Vanilla packet

2 stray pieces of trident gum

Safety pin

Lip gloss

Ice Breakers tiny liquid ice things (in a package)

Nail file advertising someone running for judge 

Change purse with no change in it but $25.00 cash (that is a lot of cash on hand for me)

A fortune - oh yes, this one "a tub and a rub will change your day" (apparently my post on that did not have the exact wording)

Whew! On to Section Three (no I am not done - you think I should be done, but I assure you I am not):

Blank Speedi Teller slips to deposit my expense checks (yay)

Copy of deposited speedi teller slip

Speedi Teller envelope

Notebook for important thoughts and plans (mostly blank - no comments on that one!)

A quarter

Three more pieces of gum in paper (I went to court a lot recently)

Gift cards to the mall and to a department store that I need to use

Small wallet/purse with Caribou Coffee gift card, Macy's gift card, and Barnes & Noble gift cards (gosh I have a lot of gift cards - why am I sitting on all of this free money?)

Believe it or not, we are at the end. The inside pocket contains feminine products that I will not go into here or my male readers, all 3 of them, will never return.  The outside pockets are thankfully empty although I believe they contained things at some point in time.

So there it is.  Can you believe it? I cannot. I actually think there is more in my purse than the time my mom and I played this game when I was at her house. You really find out a lot about a person by what they hoard, I mean keep, in their purse.  Yes, Mom, I am talking to you!

Now you might think...what could I possible ever need with all of this stuff? Come on! I am SO prepared for anything.  I can have perfect breath and teeth with my gum and floss; work from anywhere with my cell phone, notebook and calculator; be entertained with my Itouch, buy just about anything with the gift cards if I run out of the cash in my change purse; fix any clothing issues with my safety pins; be ready day or night with my makeup stash; add flavor to any drink; sanitize just about anything at any given time; and even take medicine when this 10 lb purse gives me a back ache.  Is this why I carry all of this stuff? Hell no!  I clean my purse every once in a while (like now) and take out a lot of stuff.  Then, soon, more stuff just finds its way back in. I truly have no control over it.  It is like a giant blackhole.  And these "sections" make it worse because it is deceiving if you only look at it section by section.  That's right - it is not MY fault, it is my purse's fault. Obviously.

Yes, I have a problem.  Do they have a purseaholic anonymous?If so, I may need to attend because I have been eyeing an even bigger purse at Target.*

*I really love designer expensive purses, especially Coach, but I have limited myself to cheaper purses because I grow tired of the styles so quickly and because B said if another Coach purse comes in, one has to leave. Are you kidding me? Who sells their Coach purses? That is almost as dumb as his "one pair in, one pair out" shoes rule.  Please.  That's just crazy talk!