Went to a wedding on Saturday. At the reception, someone said I had ice cream on the back of my dress. Wondering how in the world THAT happened, since I hadn't even seen any ice cream, I went into the bathroom to investigate. Annnnnd bird poop. All down the back of my dress. Also wondering how in the world THAT happened. Sheesh. I shouldn't be allowed to ever go anywhere without a chaperone. Or an umbrella, apparently.
We are moving to a SharePoint system for the office intranet, and lucky me I will be overseeing this. We've hired a consultant, Brian, who started on Tuesday and will be with us for 6 weeks. And somehow we are now practically BFF's. (And yes, he's cute, ladies, but alas married.) He has taken over the cubicle next to mine, and we have like 5 hour meetings every day about the intranet. (Oh the humanity)
Plus the fact that he still doesn't have an ID badge, so I have to pretty much escort him to the bathroom. Fun times. And now he thinks he should stay longer than 6 weeks - I expect to meet the wife (and kids?) any day now.
Went to the Ke$ha concert at House of Blues last night. (Thanks Monica for the ticket!) It was basically a sea of tweenage girls dressed like a cross between homeless people and go-go dancers (i.e. ripped fishnets underneath a sequin tunic, plus weird drawings on their faces). HIGHLY entertaining. And the show was good, too. Having seen Britney Spears, at least "Keh-dollar sign-huh" sings and dances around. And blasts a lot of confetti at the crowd. And discusses how she needs more glitter on her t*ts. That one's for you, 12-year-olds in the audience!
She only played for an hour - but then again how many songs does she have - and was a welcome relief from the weirdo bearded guy who was her opening act. Monica guessed he was her boyfriend. He was certainly NOT a musician. But I digress.
Really wanted to buy a souvenir, like the light-up glasses she was wearing at the beginning, but at $25 a pop I figured I could find something similar for like $5 at Party City. Even the Ke$ha underwear was expensive. (I own a Kid Rock thong, so this is not a completely foreign merch purch in my world.)
The most awesome item was a "spirit hood" (pictured above) which retailed for a whopping $175. How many 13-year-olds do YOU know who have $175. Then again, people were wearing them. So perhaps I am just super out-of-touch with today's youth. And considering that we sat at a table in the back with earplugs out just in case things got out of hand, I guess that answers THAT question. Totes out of touch.
Thanks to crazy tornadic activity (love using the word "tornadic") in the Dallas area this week, my Tivo has captured Pete Delkus and the WFAA severe weather team instead of Oprah. Twice.(It also ate into half of Glee last night - don't get me started.) Someone fill me in on what I missed, Oprah-wise. I guess the only woman more powerful than the big O is Mother Nature herself. That would actually be a cat-fight I would like to see. Rawrrrrr.
Someone remind me of the rules - can I freaking wear white pants yet? After Easter and until Labor Day, right? (Although I've heard that Texas gets to make up its own rules since it's hot here forever - here's to all white, all the time!) That sounded a little racist. Apologies.
Bonus points if you can name that movie. But regardless, I'm getting into character - my boss invited me to the Wells Fargo Dallas Symphony Derby at Lone Star Park on Sunday. How veddy fah-ncy. And now I have to learn about horse racing. And go buy a big hat.
A bar was hosting an "adult easter egg hunt" (whatever that is) and a "bunny costume contest" on Saturday. I convinced a friend to come with me, and we both walked in rocking bunny ears. (My friend - who is Jewish by the way - even took it to another level by wearing a dress with bunnies on it. Nice.) Not only was the bar totally dead, but we were the. Only. People. Wearing. Bunny Crap. CRAP.
However, knowing that wearing random props usually gives guys more reason to talk to us, we decided to just keep those bad boys on. I actually forgot I was wearing them until I went to the restroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Whatev.
And we DID talk to guys. One guy was sad I didn't have any Easter candy to pass out, and another asked us if we were at a bachelorette party. We laughed, saying it would be the most tragic bachelorette party ever, since there were just two of us...
And then there was my crackhead boyfriend. This guy came over to talk to us and asked if I would be his girlfriend. Sure, why not. When he left for a second, his buddy told us he was "totally coked up." Very nice. Glad I have the druggie contingency in my corner. As we were leaving, he started giving me his phone number. Only made it through his 469 area code, and we started giggling since I'm a big proponent of 214 area codes. So he was like "call me!" And I guess should I:
happen to randomly guess the next seven digits correctly; or
A guy I went to college with just posted a photo of a golf course on Facebook with the caption "What a nice hole!" It was all I could do not to add "That's what she said!" But I don't feel like we know each other well enough for all that. Side bar: had a dream the other night that I was on a date and I said "That's what she said" so much that he got up and walked out. Perhaps my self-conscious is trying to tell me something? Eh, suck it.
Went out with a guy twice last week - set-up by a friend. Which is obviously much preferred over online dating, but my friends know so few single guys these days that set-up opps are few and far between. You gotta pounce when they present themselves, too - because wait a day too long and he'll have been set up with someone else and BAM! They're in a relationship and you're back to the end of the set-up line.
So this guy is on vacation this week but texted me a pic of the beach yesterday. Aw. Cute. (And also slightly mean. I want to be on vacation...)
Will our heroine finally get that elusive third date? Stay tuned. (But I wouldn't hold your breath.)
Went to the Katy Trail Icehouse last night - fun times - but because it's ON the Katy Trail, amid the regular Dallas riff-raff there were random dudes walking around in full-body spandex cycling gear. And a girl getting her car at the valet was decked out in head-to-toe Lululemon, but had WAY too much makeup on (and no sweaty hair), so I think she was just playing the part. "Sure, I just walked 6 miles. And now I'm going to pick up dudes at the bar! Because I look SO cute after I work out..." Gag. (She DID look cute, though. Sigh.)
So weird being a boss. And now we have an intern, so I'm technically the boss of TWO people. Day one I sit down with my direct report (eek) and she asks what my strategic goals are for her. Um, what are strategic goals. And she always stays like two hours later than me, which doesn't make me look so good. (To be fair, I DO get in two hours earlier than her, though.)
But I won't let the power go to my head. Someone shoot me the day I tell her "I'm going to need you to go ahead and come in on Saturday....mmmm-kay?"
Someone brought this to my attention this morning, and I figured not all of my 36 readers may have heard this classic yet embarassing story. Gather round.
A few jobs ago, I was the PR Director at a local college. I had been there for a couple of months, and we were having a "wear-your-favorite-college-tshirt" day on campus. I was responsible for composing the email to the entire staff and faculty, and in my infinite wisdom, decided to be funny. I added "No face paint, please" and google-imaged "face paint." The above image popped up, and I loved it and dropped it into the email and hit "send."
A few minutes later, the president of the school called me into his office and asked if I knew what the "shocker" was. I shook my head, but then realized that yes i DID know what it was. He pulled up this photo and told me a staffer had noticed that this kid was doing the shocker with his hands. I thought they were just weird "W's." (Side bar: Wichita State mascot: SHOCKERS. Who knew.)
I totally thought I would be fired, having sent a sexual act to 200+ colleagues, but luckily my boss thought it was HILARIOUS. He pulled up the Wikipedia definition in the next executive meeting and passed the laptop around so those out of the loop could learn a little something. The "ooh's" and "OMG's" were cringe-worthy. And people would bring up the story all the time. "Sarah, isn't that SHOCKING?" "I'm SHOCKED, Sarah - what about you?"
...waiting for your car at the dealership. Took the Jeep in this morning to get the window fixed, and the service guy asked if I was planning on waiting for it. Um, do you SEE anyone else with me in the car? Or following me to the dealership? Of course I'm waiting for it. No other options, bub. (Sigh.) He told me they couldn't fix it by 9 (when I had to leave for a meeting), so the whole trip was pointless anyway. On the plus side, I finally found both the Walmart and Target close to my new office. SCORE.
I never EVER roll down the back windows of my car. But for some reason I did on Friday and when I got home and tried to roll them up, one of them was permanently stuck. I can hear the motor trying and trying, but no dice. And as much fun as manually pulling the window up every damn time I get out of my car is, I know I have to take it in to the dealership. Just browsing my options, I looked up online how to fix it myself. (Don't worry, people. I know my limits. I can barely open the hood. Just trying to learn a thing or two.) And here was the first paragraph. Made me burst out laughing. "One of the more typical causes of a power window not working properly is a blown fuse. In most car models the fuse box is located under the dashboard. Check your car's owner's manual so you don't have to grope around and electrocute yourself." Can't argue with that logic.
"Wow. There's a LOT going on in there." Um, what? And then he started to leave the room. I was like "Excuse me? WTF does that mean?? That can't be good..." And apparently there are things they have been "watching," teeth-wise, for like 15 years. Good. Because THAT makes me feel better.
Almost fell asleep on the elliptical this morning at the gym. Which, if physically possible, would be genius. My legs keep moving and I get a workout, but I can get another half hour of shut-eye. Sadly, I know myself and my total lack of balance. It would NOT go well. Off to grab a second cup of coffee. Oof.
Vh1 has some of the best reality shows out there, second only to Bravo: Rock of Love, Rock of Love Charm School, You're Cut Off, and my personal fave, Celebrity Rehab. (Which, if they could lock in Charlie Sheen next season, could be the best. Thing. Ever.) So last night they premiered a bunch of new shows, and I'm happy to say that on the whole, they are just as good as the old favorites. Sorry, Tivo - adding more to the to-do list. "Audrina" is probably the worst of the bunch, simply because she was dumb on The Hills, and she's still dumb. But her drunk mom is amusing, so I'll keep watching. "Saddle Ranch" was funny simply because when I lived in L.A. we went there a lot. A LOT. So it brings back memories of drunken make-outs and riding the mechanical bull. That's what she said. And my favorite was "Mob Wives." Kind of like another Real Housewives of New Jersey. Some of them look a little tranny, and I love how they all say their husbands, fathers, cousins, etc. are "away." As opposed to "in prison." So there you have it. Now you don't have to watch all this crap - I've done it for you. Welcome.
Meet Louie. He's my new "Labbit." You can change up the crap that goes in his mouth (that's what she said?) like some kind of adorable Mr. Potato Head. He might become my Diane Esparza 2.0. Just throwing it out there. Good boy, Louie.
Went on a blind date last night (which makes two in a row this week - oof), and he was there, waiting for me with a table on the patio. Sunglasses securely on. Ray-bans, actually. Nice. He kept them on for most of the evening, but when he finally took them off, I was not prepared. It was like Cyclops from X-Men (above) - he had literally the most crazy piercing blue eyes I have ever seen. They were pretty, don't get me wrong, but they seriously took a few minutes to get used to. I kept staring at them - which he probably interpreted as my looking him deep in the eyes when I was talking. Sure, buddy. Whatever works for you. And if there is a next time, I'M wearing the shades. Gotta take precautions.
I am well known for my mix-making skills. Actually, make that "skillz." Every Christmas or birthday, my nearest and dearest are thrilled to receive my cheap-ass gift: a mega-mix CD. ("Mixed tape" sounds so much better, doesn't it?!) I was asked to burn a CD of "top 40 hits" for the big company update meeting. So I did. And...REJECTED. I left off Cee-lo's "F$&# You"...what more do you people want from me?! And now they're going with an all-U2, all-the-time format. Sigh. Whatever - now I have an awesome mix for the car ride home. So there.
I am kind of over the royal wedding. I know, I know. Strip me of my "girl" card (is that the equivalent of the man card?). I get the enthusiasm, and Kate Middleton is gorge, but really? The constant coverage is enough already. Can't imagine what the Brits are going through. Then again, they probably ARE that into it. So no, I won't be watching live next Friday morning. I'm sure I'll catch all the highlights on E! News. Or Access Hollywood. Or 20/20. Or...
Told you it was an unpopular opinion. And if Prince Harry were to suddenly show interest in me, I would be the biggest fan o' royalty you ever saw. But until then...
It's been a while since I've had a bruise. Okay, that's a lie. But it HAS been a while since I've had so many awesome bruises at once. (And yes, I'm anemic. I'm working on it. But it's really more of a klutz issue than something medical. But I digress.) One of these is from two weeks ago and just isn't going away. The other two I got on Sunday when I tripped up a flight of stairs. (Yes, up. If I had tripped going down I would probably be in traction right now.) I'm sure they will get much more colorful as the days go by, but I thought I would at least give them their due. Enjoy. :) Here is my wrist, which suffered a double whammy of a scrape/bruise and then the actual wrist bone (right side of photo, in case you're like "WTF am I looking at," as I am with friends' sonograms) is turning nice and green as well: My knee, which I also hit on the stairs and continues to get harder and harder to walk on (not a good sign, probably):
And the doozy on the side of my knee (yep, same knee as above - awesome!) which just won't go away:
Man I'm attractive. It's a wonder I'm still single.
Signed up to run the Warrior Dash this Sunday. A 3.2 mile race - with obstacles - out in the middle of nowhere. (Why, I have no idea) Signing the waiver this morning is making me slightly queasy. A few highlights:
I understand that entering Warrior Dash is a hazardous activity.
I understand that Warrior Dash presents extreme obstacles including, but not limited to, fire, mud pits with barbed wire, junk cars and steep hills.
I understand that some of the obstacles may go through water, which has not been tested for chemicals and disease (?!).
I assume risk of wild animals, insects and plants that may be present on the course.
I agree not to dive into or enter the mud pit head first. (Um, duh)
My brother and I flew to Colorado this weekend to surprise my mom for her birthday. The weekend was a success, but there were some hiccups along the way, travel-wise. First off, my shuttle driver from the Park N Fly told me my flight was leaving from terminal D. (My flights NEVER leave from terminal D.) So that's where he dropped me off. Turns out my flight was in terminal A. So I got nice and familiar with the Skylink at DFW. My brother had his own headache in the Austin airport - TSA pat-down. He tells the story much better than I could, but basically it seems like these people have The. Worst. Job. In. The. World. The guy was giving a play-by-play: "I'm going up your inseam, sir. Using the back of my hand, not my palm. Back of my hand, sir." "I'm going to run two fingers along the waist of your pants, sir. Two fingers." Shoot me now. But of course I was dying laughing picturing this total violation of privacy. Then we arrived in Denver and hopped on the tram to get to baggage claim, as we've done hundreds of times. And somehow found ourselves on the train bound to nowhere. Literally it made three stops and we finally got off, and we were back at terminal B. Never stopped at baggage claim. I swear. On the way back to Dallas, I sat next to a total weirdo who balanced her checkbook the entire flight. Two hours. And you know I sneaked a peek. I'm only human. Travel nightmares aside, I think my mom rang in 60 with a bang. Which is non-refundable. :)
All the conference rooms at my new job are named after cities (Santiago, Miami, etc.), and are in alphabetical order. Helpful, right? Not if you forget the city you're supposed to be in. I had a meeting scheduled yesterday with two guys I've never met, in the Rome room. So at 2:00 I walked over and there were two guys in the room, along with a lady. I introduced myself and started to sit down, when the lady - also the HR director, apparently - told me they were in the middle of an interview. I turned bright red and stammered some sort of "Wrong room! AACK!" as I backed out of there as quickly as possible. Turns out, my meeting was in RIO. Son of a.
Has anyone seen the Ke$ha video for "Blow?" Starring Dawson Leery himself, James Van der Beek? Thanks to S for pointing out the brilliance, which I finally saw for the first time yesterday. She sashays up to him and goes, "Well, if it isn't James Van der DOUCHE." Ahhhh greatness. Did I mention that I'm seeing her in concert in two weeks? Bring it, $$$. Bring it.
Had to referee an "Around-the-World" bball contest today at the office - winners got four suite tickets and a parking pass to the Mavericks game this weekend (cha-ching!). And what to my wondering eyes should appear but 20 hot guys, coming out of the woodwork to shoot a Nerf ball into a Little Tykes plastic hoop (above). Um, what floor are THEY on. Not mine. But who cares - when's the next office happy hour? Count me IN.
The OTHER craziness at this gig is trying to coordinate with offices in London (6 hours ahead) and Sydney (a redonk 15 hours ahead). Which means awesome emails in the middle of the night. Score. The only thing that could make up for this? My getting to GO to Sydney. Ahem.
Already totally stressed at the new gig. The main source of my Botox-busting wrinkles? iMovie. I'm in charge of putting together a video for the all-company quarterly meeting next week. Have I ever used iMovie? No. (Have I really ever used a Mac. No.) I even asked the marketing whiz for help, and she said it was too old of a version of the program and she only knew how to use the most RECENT one. Um, thanks. She also said that iMovie was for people who don't know how to edit - it's that easy. Sigh. Every day I learn a new trick, but it's an arduous process. I might be done with this bad boy by December. Fingers crossed.
Went to a wedding this weekend and the band was Poison Cherry - this amazeballs Poison/80s hair-band cover band. I'm sure the grandparents in the audience were a bit horrified, but I danced for like three solid hours. And when they pulled all the girls on stage for "Girls, Girls, Girls," you better believe I was loving every minute of it.
I bumped into one of the guitarists during their break, and he started chatting me up. (Very cute, but it DOES make you wonder if these long-haired wonders have 9-5 jobs.) He asked my name, and told me his name was "Bobby Balls." Or "Eric." Of course I went with option #1.
Playlist included "Nothin' But a Good Time," "Here I Go Again," "Sweet Child of Mine," "Rock and Roll All Night," "Pour Some Sugar on Me," and of course "Every Rose Has its Thorn." To which I busted out my best 7th grade slow-dance swaying moves.
It was their first time playing at the Dallas Museum of Art, but B. Balls told me they were "bringing a little culture to the joint." Rock on, man.
Got asked on a blind date last night. From a Match guy. The date? To the Final freaking Four. I can't go, but I will admit that I seriously considered it...although that drive back and forth to Houston could be tough...helluvan idea for a first date, though.