Dear Fergie Ferg,
Thank you for doing such a service to our nation's youth. Without you, "Delicious" and "Glamorous" would always be misspelled. I'd like to add "Tasty" to that list, but unfortunately, you spell it wrong. Newsflash: there is no "E" in Tasty.
Sincerely yours,
Molly
Showing posts with label annoying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label annoying. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Still Here
I'm still here. I'm not sure if you missed me or not, but since I post every weekday perhaps someone thought it odd that it's been almost two days since you heard from me.
Yesterday we packed up our office. Today we moved.
I'm not too happy about it.
My old office was great. Hardwood floors, my own little space with a window that overlooked the street (allowing me to spy on who came in late, who went to lunch with whom and what everyone was wearing,) and sun. Glorious morning sun that heated the chilly room and wonderful afternoon sun that made the space cheery and inviting.
My new office is neither cheery nor inviting. There is no morning sun to warm the chill. As a matter of fact, the room is freezing. Turns out there is some afternoon sun which is the silver lining in an otherwise gray situation. There are no hardwood floors (although perhaps they're under the carpet?) and we're right across from the bathroom.
My boss (who shares an office with me) came up with a slogan for the day: "From the penthouse to the outhouse." Basically, we got shafted. And while I'm trying to make the best of it, I'm not dealing entirely well yet. My life report card would say, "Molly plays well with others, but needs improvement accepting change."
So, yeah. Freaking A, this sucks.
I'm going to go hang a poster or something. Maybe that will help.
Yesterday we packed up our office. Today we moved.
I'm not too happy about it.
My old office was great. Hardwood floors, my own little space with a window that overlooked the street (allowing me to spy on who came in late, who went to lunch with whom and what everyone was wearing,) and sun. Glorious morning sun that heated the chilly room and wonderful afternoon sun that made the space cheery and inviting.
My new office is neither cheery nor inviting. There is no morning sun to warm the chill. As a matter of fact, the room is freezing. Turns out there is some afternoon sun which is the silver lining in an otherwise gray situation. There are no hardwood floors (although perhaps they're under the carpet?) and we're right across from the bathroom.
My boss (who shares an office with me) came up with a slogan for the day: "From the penthouse to the outhouse." Basically, we got shafted. And while I'm trying to make the best of it, I'm not dealing entirely well yet. My life report card would say, "Molly plays well with others, but needs improvement accepting change."
So, yeah. Freaking A, this sucks.
I'm going to go hang a poster or something. Maybe that will help.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
That Was Way Harsh, Tai
The other day I stumbled across this blog. Basically, people submit their blogs for "review" by three women who proceed to rip them apart. I find this blog absolutely atrocious. These women are catty and bitchy and seem to have started a blog as an excuse to be just that. Since people (mostly women) are voluntarily submitting their blogs, the women can justify tearing them apart. And from reading their reviews it seems to me that since their own writing is just sub-par, they pick on others to feel better about themselves. So those who can't write...critique? Where is the logic in that?
Lately I've been really annoyed with the blogging community. When did it get so mean? The attack on Clink the other day and the bitchiness I referred to on Tuesday really surprise me. I don't find this stuff on men's blogs. Why are women so mean to each other? It's really sad that we have to break others down to feel better about ourselves.
Ugh, it's like a virtual high school.
Lately I've been really annoyed with the blogging community. When did it get so mean? The attack on Clink the other day and the bitchiness I referred to on Tuesday really surprise me. I don't find this stuff on men's blogs. Why are women so mean to each other? It's really sad that we have to break others down to feel better about ourselves.
Ugh, it's like a virtual high school.
Friday, March 09, 2007
It Is Friday, Right?
Fridays are supposed to be a good days. I can wear jeans, the weekend is rapidly approaching (and Michael is off!) and everyone is more relaxed. Like most nine to fivers, I appreciate Fridays. But so far, today hasn't been all that great.
Someone cut the line at Starbucks. I was waiting patiently for my soy chai latte, standing third in line during the early morning rush. All of the sudden this woman came barreling through the doors, walked right up to the counter and slapped down a list. Anyone who knows me would tell you that usually, this would not fly. I would be the first person to call this woman out and remind her that there are people waiting in line. That were here BEFORE her. I went to elementary school. I know what happens to cutters. Cutters go to the back of the line.
But today I just didn't have it in me. I was too tired to make a scene in the busy Starbucks. So I let it go. No one else said anything, but there was some definite eye rolling.
All was basically forgotten with the first sip of my chai, until I walked into my building. Skunked. Again. Do you know how disgusting it is to work with the smell of skunk permeating your nostrils all day? Awful.
Which brings me to now. I'm hoping that lunch with coworkers will turn the day around. I'm also looking forward to dinner out in Newport tonight with Michael and another couple. This is huge because all of our couple friends? Are having babies. And that means very few get togethers. And when there are get togethers talk centers around, you guessed, the baby.
Don't get me wrong, I'm so happy for these friends. But the thought of a glass of wine and Thai food with a recently married, baby-free couple is looking really good right now.
Someone cut the line at Starbucks. I was waiting patiently for my soy chai latte, standing third in line during the early morning rush. All of the sudden this woman came barreling through the doors, walked right up to the counter and slapped down a list. Anyone who knows me would tell you that usually, this would not fly. I would be the first person to call this woman out and remind her that there are people waiting in line. That were here BEFORE her. I went to elementary school. I know what happens to cutters. Cutters go to the back of the line.
But today I just didn't have it in me. I was too tired to make a scene in the busy Starbucks. So I let it go. No one else said anything, but there was some definite eye rolling.
All was basically forgotten with the first sip of my chai, until I walked into my building. Skunked. Again. Do you know how disgusting it is to work with the smell of skunk permeating your nostrils all day? Awful.
Which brings me to now. I'm hoping that lunch with coworkers will turn the day around. I'm also looking forward to dinner out in Newport tonight with Michael and another couple. This is huge because all of our couple friends? Are having babies. And that means very few get togethers. And when there are get togethers talk centers around, you guessed, the baby.
Don't get me wrong, I'm so happy for these friends. But the thought of a glass of wine and Thai food with a recently married, baby-free couple is looking really good right now.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
I Didn't Sign Up For Gymboree
I took a risk by going directly to the gym from work. It's really hit or miss-- sometimes it's packed with the highly motivated after work crowd and other times it's almost empty. Unfortunately, last night it was busy. But I was lucky to score an elliptical and since I had forgotten my earphones for my iPod, (I know, I can manage to bring all my work out clothes and sneakers and the actually iPod to work but forget the earphones...) I grabbed an easy to read while you're running Star Magazine.
The good thing about my gym is that they have lots of new equipment and the price is right. The bad thing is that they also have a basketball court and after school activities that attract kids. Mostly kids between the ages of eight and 15. And I guess because they think it's cool they come into the gym when they're finished. Maybe it's because I'm usually plugged into my iPod, but I never really noticed them until last night. This time I couldn't miss them.
First there were the two girls on ellipticals. They must have been around 14 and after a few minutes one became bored. "Mia! Mia! Miiiiia! MIA!" I turned my head to see one of the girls yelling to the other, who couldn't hear her because she was smart enough to remember her earphones. Probably because she was well aware that her gym partner was the type of girl that frantically waved her hand in the air, "ooh, ooh, oohing" whenever the teacher asked a question. So annoying.
"MIA!!! I'm BORED!" Seriously, I almost threw my water bottle at her. Finally Mia heard her and lifted one earphone long enough to tell her friend to find another machine if she was so bored. Go Mia!
With 10 minutes left to go on the machine I spotted Gold Digger on a bike. Oh no! I had to get to the weights before he did. The image of is finger lost inside his navel cavity began to haunt me. No, no, no! Look away!
I looked ahead and noticed a woman with a girl who could not have been more than eight. The little girl was on the treadmill and the woman was encouraging her to run. The girl was only a little heavy and I felt bad for her. Wouldn't it be better for someone of her age to take dance classes or play soccer or even take walks with her mom? Must she already be told that she's heavy and be put in a gym?
I headed over to the weight machines and was bombarded by a group of twelve-year old boys. I know they were twelve because one of them was talking about his last birthday. These scrawny little boys in their over sized basketball shorts with their hair spike just so, jumped from machine to machine, acting tough and grunting as they moved the weights. It took all I had not to crash into them as they rapidly switched places with each other.
I finished up and realized how tired I was. I know you're supposed to be physically tired after working out, but mentally? No.
Damn kids.
The good thing about my gym is that they have lots of new equipment and the price is right. The bad thing is that they also have a basketball court and after school activities that attract kids. Mostly kids between the ages of eight and 15. And I guess because they think it's cool they come into the gym when they're finished. Maybe it's because I'm usually plugged into my iPod, but I never really noticed them until last night. This time I couldn't miss them.
First there were the two girls on ellipticals. They must have been around 14 and after a few minutes one became bored. "Mia! Mia! Miiiiia! MIA!" I turned my head to see one of the girls yelling to the other, who couldn't hear her because she was smart enough to remember her earphones. Probably because she was well aware that her gym partner was the type of girl that frantically waved her hand in the air, "ooh, ooh, oohing" whenever the teacher asked a question. So annoying.
"MIA!!! I'm BORED!" Seriously, I almost threw my water bottle at her. Finally Mia heard her and lifted one earphone long enough to tell her friend to find another machine if she was so bored. Go Mia!
With 10 minutes left to go on the machine I spotted Gold Digger on a bike. Oh no! I had to get to the weights before he did. The image of is finger lost inside his navel cavity began to haunt me. No, no, no! Look away!
I looked ahead and noticed a woman with a girl who could not have been more than eight. The little girl was on the treadmill and the woman was encouraging her to run. The girl was only a little heavy and I felt bad for her. Wouldn't it be better for someone of her age to take dance classes or play soccer or even take walks with her mom? Must she already be told that she's heavy and be put in a gym?
I headed over to the weight machines and was bombarded by a group of twelve-year old boys. I know they were twelve because one of them was talking about his last birthday. These scrawny little boys in their over sized basketball shorts with their hair spike just so, jumped from machine to machine, acting tough and grunting as they moved the weights. It took all I had not to crash into them as they rapidly switched places with each other.
I finished up and realized how tired I was. I know you're supposed to be physically tired after working out, but mentally? No.
Damn kids.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
How To Piss Me Off
I left my office 15 minutes before the typical lunch hour so I could get in and out of the grocery store as quickly as possible while avoiding the usual swam of idiots I encounter. I figured that I would pick up lunch and dinner in one shot. I breezed through the store, got what I needed and headed for the checkout line.
The woman at the register gave me a half-hearted "paper or plastic?" before scanning my items. It was no mystery that she would rather be anywhere but there. As she was scanning I swiped my card, hit credit and scanned the candy rack while I waited for her to finish.
"Credit or debit?" she asked, snapping me out of the candy haze.
"Debit, please," I replied.
"You hit credit, not debit," she said exasperatedly.
"Oh, oops, sorry. Credit is fine." (If you can already see I hit 'credit,' why are you asking me credit or debit?)
"Well which is it? Credit or debit? I mean if you're going to change your mind again I need to know which button to press."
"Credit. Is. Fine."
I don't mean to sound like a snot, but isn't her job to provide a service to me, not give me attitude? Is this really such a huge deal? Especially since I told her that credit was fine and she didn't have to hit another button?
Because you know, that would be so much work.
The woman at the register gave me a half-hearted "paper or plastic?" before scanning my items. It was no mystery that she would rather be anywhere but there. As she was scanning I swiped my card, hit credit and scanned the candy rack while I waited for her to finish.
"Credit or debit?" she asked, snapping me out of the candy haze.
"Debit, please," I replied.
"You hit credit, not debit," she said exasperatedly.
"Oh, oops, sorry. Credit is fine." (If you can already see I hit 'credit,' why are you asking me credit or debit?)
"Well which is it? Credit or debit? I mean if you're going to change your mind again I need to know which button to press."
"Credit. Is. Fine."
I don't mean to sound like a snot, but isn't her job to provide a service to me, not give me attitude? Is this really such a huge deal? Especially since I told her that credit was fine and she didn't have to hit another button?
Because you know, that would be so much work.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Is It Friday Yet?
Last night I sliced my finger while trying to open a bottle of fancy olive oil. The wound cuts across my finger at a ridiculous angle, making it impossible to cover the whole thing with a bandaid. It hurts. A lot.
I'm really beginning to hate the words "strategize", "micro-manage" and "team".
My skin is still rebelling like a petulant teenager.
Now that it's getting cold I have to fight the feelings that always creep up around this time of year. Maybe it's a mild case of Seasonal Affective Disorder, but winter makes me want to curl up in my bed and stay there. I'm hoping to get through the season with vitamins, working out, snuggling and wine.
Lots of wine.
I'm really beginning to hate the words "strategize", "micro-manage" and "team".
My skin is still rebelling like a petulant teenager.
Now that it's getting cold I have to fight the feelings that always creep up around this time of year. Maybe it's a mild case of Seasonal Affective Disorder, but winter makes me want to curl up in my bed and stay there. I'm hoping to get through the season with vitamins, working out, snuggling and wine.
Lots of wine.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Grievances
Mother Nature -- I knew it had to become winter sometime, but couldn't we have eased into it? Fourteen degrees is not what I wanted to encounter this morning.
Skin -- I've done everything to appease you. I have washed, lotioned and cared for you just as I should. I did nothing to deserve the breakout on my chin. Nothing! You are 24 years old. I suggest you start acting like it.
Shoes -- Why do you hurt me? I know you're just a smidge higher than I usually wear to work but I really thought you would pull through. Apparently you are made for the walk from the car to the bar and nothing more. You are so beautiful on the outside, yet your true colors are showing.
Fridge -- Why are you so empty? Why can't you just fill yourself up? I really don't want to go shopping for you. And I absolutely cannot go after work. I'm wearing beautiful yet evil shoes. I refuse to walk around a grocery store.
I refuse.
Skin -- I've done everything to appease you. I have washed, lotioned and cared for you just as I should. I did nothing to deserve the breakout on my chin. Nothing! You are 24 years old. I suggest you start acting like it.
Shoes -- Why do you hurt me? I know you're just a smidge higher than I usually wear to work but I really thought you would pull through. Apparently you are made for the walk from the car to the bar and nothing more. You are so beautiful on the outside, yet your true colors are showing.
Fridge -- Why are you so empty? Why can't you just fill yourself up? I really don't want to go shopping for you. And I absolutely cannot go after work. I'm wearing beautiful yet evil shoes. I refuse to walk around a grocery store.
I refuse.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
101
My head is kind of all over the place today, so please excuse the sporadic ramblings that follows. First off, yesterday was my 100th post. That may not be a lot in the world of blogging, but I thought it was pretty cool.
Secondly, that family stuff I thought was getting better? It's not. It's getting worse. And my anxiety over it has sky rocketed. I feel physically sick over the situation and I'm really angry. That's all I really want to say about it right now, but it's definitely on my mind.
Got my Christmas present from my boss this morning and it's awesome. Mighty Girl wrote this book and I now own it. Now I have no excuse for a boring post. Did I mention it's awesome? Because it is.
It's no secret I love the Christmas season. But know what I don't like? Holiday commercials. OK, some of them are alright. But most of them? Awful. Especially:
Victoria's Secret: Featuring Heidi Klum singing "Santa Baby" very, very badly. I don't know about you, but this does not make me want to buy underwear. It makes me want to change the channel. And fast. Of course, it's probably not marketed to females...
Lexus: Oh how nice. You go out into your driveway and there's a shiny new Lexus with a big red bow just for you! Except in my world, that would never happen. And I think it's fair to say that most people are not getting a new Lexus for the holidays. If you are, congratulations to you. But me, I drive a Honda Accord.
Jeweler Commercials: Kays, Beldin, Jarrod's (these last two might be RI places, not sure.) If I have to hear one more cheesy song playing in the background while diamond circle pendants sparkle on the screen I'm going to vomit. And their gimmicks are so...gimmicky. "Every kiss begins at Kay," "He went to Jarrod's! He went to Jarrod's? He went to Jarrod's!!!!" Once again, I apologize if this is something you enjoy, but I would prefer not to get a diamond circle pendant that anyone could pick up at the Walmart jewelry counter. I'm just saying.
Old Navy: Get your fash-on. Yeah, I get it. FashiON. So funny. So annoying. Especially with children and dogs jumping out of boxes. I wish they would stop.
Michael likes the JC Penny commercial with the remix of "Here Comes Santa Claus." I like that one because he dances to it and I think it's so cute.
Also, I baked cookies last night for my boss. Which meant my dinner was cookies and two glasses of wine.
And I'm OK with that.
Secondly, that family stuff I thought was getting better? It's not. It's getting worse. And my anxiety over it has sky rocketed. I feel physically sick over the situation and I'm really angry. That's all I really want to say about it right now, but it's definitely on my mind.
Got my Christmas present from my boss this morning and it's awesome. Mighty Girl wrote this book and I now own it. Now I have no excuse for a boring post. Did I mention it's awesome? Because it is.
It's no secret I love the Christmas season. But know what I don't like? Holiday commercials. OK, some of them are alright. But most of them? Awful. Especially:
Victoria's Secret: Featuring Heidi Klum singing "Santa Baby" very, very badly. I don't know about you, but this does not make me want to buy underwear. It makes me want to change the channel. And fast. Of course, it's probably not marketed to females...
Lexus: Oh how nice. You go out into your driveway and there's a shiny new Lexus with a big red bow just for you! Except in my world, that would never happen. And I think it's fair to say that most people are not getting a new Lexus for the holidays. If you are, congratulations to you. But me, I drive a Honda Accord.
Jeweler Commercials: Kays, Beldin, Jarrod's (these last two might be RI places, not sure.) If I have to hear one more cheesy song playing in the background while diamond circle pendants sparkle on the screen I'm going to vomit. And their gimmicks are so...gimmicky. "Every kiss begins at Kay," "He went to Jarrod's! He went to Jarrod's? He went to Jarrod's!!!!" Once again, I apologize if this is something you enjoy, but I would prefer not to get a diamond circle pendant that anyone could pick up at the Walmart jewelry counter. I'm just saying.
Old Navy: Get your fash-on. Yeah, I get it. FashiON. So funny. So annoying. Especially with children and dogs jumping out of boxes. I wish they would stop.
Michael likes the JC Penny commercial with the remix of "Here Comes Santa Claus." I like that one because he dances to it and I think it's so cute.
Also, I baked cookies last night for my boss. Which meant my dinner was cookies and two glasses of wine.
And I'm OK with that.
Monday, November 06, 2006
How To Annoy Me
This past weekend was spent in Vermont with Michael and the dog. It was so nice to nap on the couch, walk in the crisp mountain air and not answer the phone. I even got to indulge in maple sugar candies which are soooo good.
But four hours in the car each way did not make me happy. Don't get me wrong, I loved the time with Michael. Actually, driving with him is something I really enjoy. But when faced with a four hour trip, there is bound to be some mishaps along the way.
On the way to VT we hit traffic in Massachusetts. Some type of bridge work that really should have been done in the middle of the night, not on a Saturday afternoon. Really.
The main reason for the holdup was that two lanes had to merge into one. There was a big orange sign that said "RIGHT LANE ENDS ONE MILE" that most people took to mean the right lane was ending.
But not all people.
No. Not Ms. Mini-van. (Have I ever written about how much I hate mini-vans? No? Remind me to.) Ms. Mini-van was so concerned about getting ahead just a few more feet that she would speed up in the right lane and try to pass all of those (specifically us) who had followed the sign and gotten in the left lane. Luckily for us, the guy in front of us wasn't having it either. He straddled the middle line just enough so she couldn't pass him and we stayed right behind him so she couldn't get in front of us.
But she wouldn't let up. There she was, right next to me rolling her eyes and getting agitated. And I had enough. My window was down. I turned around. I may have thrown my hands in the air. And said "you're going to get in an accident! Get over it and get behind us!"
Another eye roll, but she got behind us. Michael was surprised at my passenger-seat road rage. But HONESTLY. Some people.
On the way home we hit traffic again. This time it appeared to be for no reason, until....Oh. I-84. How I loathe you 84. The worst leg of the trip when I head home to NY and here it is again, dumping traffic onto 90 when all I want to do is get home!
We decided this would be a good time for a pee and snack break so we pulled off into a rest area. You know, a fancy one, with a McDonalds and a Papa Johns. And an Auntie Anne's Pretzels. Like I said, fancy.
We parted towards our respective bathrooms. I waited for a stall and when one of the doors opened, the girl coming out looked and me and kept on going. So I went in. And saw that she hadn't flushed. What? Ew. What is wrong with people?
I wasn't about to wait again so I flushed it for her as I pressed myself against the door willing her excrements to stay in the bowl and away from me. When I was done I went out to wash my hands.
Sink #1, no soap. Sink #2, no soap. Sinks 3, 4, AND 5....NO SOAP! Sink #6 finally had soap and it was the icky rest stop smelling soap. You know, the pink kind.
Michael was waiting for me when I came out and we were hungry so we decided to get a pretzel. Well apparently they don't make the parmesan anymore (the best kind) so I settled for a regular and he chose a cinnamon sugar.
"We only have one regular right now, but we have an almond one," said the cashier.
"That's it?" Michael asked.
"We're making more now," she replied. "They'll be ready in about seven minutes."
I'd be damned if we were going to stay in that rest stop for another seven minutes.
"We'll take the regular," Michael said.
Can I just tell you that the regular was dinky and unsatisfying. What ever happened to big, doughy pretzels?
The rest of the trip was uneventful. The dog made up for lost time in his yard by running around and barking at the sky. I made dinner and we settled in for some Sunday night TV.
A great weekend. Minus the traffic.
And the pretzel.
But four hours in the car each way did not make me happy. Don't get me wrong, I loved the time with Michael. Actually, driving with him is something I really enjoy. But when faced with a four hour trip, there is bound to be some mishaps along the way.
On the way to VT we hit traffic in Massachusetts. Some type of bridge work that really should have been done in the middle of the night, not on a Saturday afternoon. Really.
The main reason for the holdup was that two lanes had to merge into one. There was a big orange sign that said "RIGHT LANE ENDS ONE MILE" that most people took to mean the right lane was ending.
But not all people.
No. Not Ms. Mini-van. (Have I ever written about how much I hate mini-vans? No? Remind me to.) Ms. Mini-van was so concerned about getting ahead just a few more feet that she would speed up in the right lane and try to pass all of those (specifically us) who had followed the sign and gotten in the left lane. Luckily for us, the guy in front of us wasn't having it either. He straddled the middle line just enough so she couldn't pass him and we stayed right behind him so she couldn't get in front of us.
But she wouldn't let up. There she was, right next to me rolling her eyes and getting agitated. And I had enough. My window was down. I turned around. I may have thrown my hands in the air. And said "you're going to get in an accident! Get over it and get behind us!"
Another eye roll, but she got behind us. Michael was surprised at my passenger-seat road rage. But HONESTLY. Some people.
On the way home we hit traffic again. This time it appeared to be for no reason, until....Oh. I-84. How I loathe you 84. The worst leg of the trip when I head home to NY and here it is again, dumping traffic onto 90 when all I want to do is get home!
We decided this would be a good time for a pee and snack break so we pulled off into a rest area. You know, a fancy one, with a McDonalds and a Papa Johns. And an Auntie Anne's Pretzels. Like I said, fancy.
We parted towards our respective bathrooms. I waited for a stall and when one of the doors opened, the girl coming out looked and me and kept on going. So I went in. And saw that she hadn't flushed. What? Ew. What is wrong with people?
I wasn't about to wait again so I flushed it for her as I pressed myself against the door willing her excrements to stay in the bowl and away from me. When I was done I went out to wash my hands.
Sink #1, no soap. Sink #2, no soap. Sinks 3, 4, AND 5....NO SOAP! Sink #6 finally had soap and it was the icky rest stop smelling soap. You know, the pink kind.
Michael was waiting for me when I came out and we were hungry so we decided to get a pretzel. Well apparently they don't make the parmesan anymore (the best kind) so I settled for a regular and he chose a cinnamon sugar.
"We only have one regular right now, but we have an almond one," said the cashier.
"That's it?" Michael asked.
"We're making more now," she replied. "They'll be ready in about seven minutes."
I'd be damned if we were going to stay in that rest stop for another seven minutes.
"We'll take the regular," Michael said.
Can I just tell you that the regular was dinky and unsatisfying. What ever happened to big, doughy pretzels?
The rest of the trip was uneventful. The dog made up for lost time in his yard by running around and barking at the sky. I made dinner and we settled in for some Sunday night TV.
A great weekend. Minus the traffic.
And the pretzel.
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