Tag Archives: working

Oh lord.

Really, I should not be complaining. My original flight(s) to Beijing tomorrow had me leave the house at 4 am so I could catch the 6 am flight to SFO, with an almost 5-hour layover, and then on to my next flight to Beijing. I would have been in the back of the plane, in the middle seat, for both legs.

Last night as I was freaking out and crying inside about my 4 am EDT on Monday morning, I decided to see whether there would be a way for me to get on a later flight to SFO. What do you know? Up popped a non-stop flight to Beijing! Woohoo!

My original seat on this flight was 42F. After refreshing the page many many times, I moved up to 31F. Bulk seats do come with extra legrooms, yes. But they also come with increased chance of being seated next to a baby. (I am NO baby hater. But if I have a choice…)

More refresh. Refresh. Refresh. And now I am where I am.

I pray that 25E will be empty so I can fully recline (“Recline” in the cattle class is an exaggeration) without feeling guilty.

It is really sad that I will not be able to take advantage of free alcohol on international flights… (Drinking = Needing to “use the facility”)

Tis the Season to be Jolly

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Tra la la la la la la la la.

Don we now our gay apparel

Fa la la la la la la la la.

Gay apparel as in holiday parties. Of course. Tis the season of office holiday parties where alliances are formed, enemies are made, and by the end of night, everybody is drunk enough to tell the person whom you absolutely hate when sober, “I love you. Seriously, man. You. are. the. best!”

New York Magazine is kind enough to give us a guide on “How Drunk Can You Get at Your Office Holiday Party” with a handy dandy ~~notebook~~ printable guide that you can tuck into your bra and bring with you. Better remember to check on it though while you are still sober enough to read it in the bathroom stall because any good office holiday party will not have adequate lighting for reading. Duh.

Cog in the machine, while suffers in silence the rest of the 364 days, gets to have the MOST FUN EVER at the office party. “I hate my job so much I don’t even fucking care any more.” That’s the attitude that will get you through the night!

I’ve told you that I get typecast all the time, right? Well, it happened again. A friend of mine Facebook-tagged me:

CHRISTMAS OFFICE PARTY– Use the first 10 people on your friends list. Don’t Cheat:

Running around topless singing Jingle Bells:
Spiked the punch then drank most of it :
Dancing on the desk singing “Can’t Touch this”:
… Has Rolodex making prank calls:
Spinning around in office chair screaming:
Locked in the bathroom hugging the toilet:
Passed out under their desk:
Sitting on copier making Christmas cards:
Throwing fruitcake at people outside:
Playing spin the bottle with cleaning crew:

Guess where my name fell? Yup. The first one. I just don’t think it will ever happen because I cannot sing worth a damn.

Also? I just survived our mega office holiday party last week and I’ll have you know that I kept my clothes on the whole night. And I did not spill any drink. Woohoo! WIN!

The sad truth is I could not have gotten hammered even if I wanted to. The OPEN bar? Was not really open. They only served beer and wine. INCONCEIVABLE. ikr?! So the whole night I kept on going from the 5th floor to the bar at the hotel lobby to get my own drink on. Yes, my dear Internet, I paid for my own premium vodka at an office party with an open bar. I had four with a heavy pour and I woke up with NO hangover and NO headache whatsoever. Win? WIN!

Despite the open bar not being really open, I had a lot of fun at the party talking to random people, including coworkers whom I had never actually spoken to until that night and their wives, my boss, his wife, his boss, his boss’s wife, someone else’s bosses, someone else’s bosses’ wives, etc etc etc. Problem is? I kept on thinking, “The missis must be really really bored. Probably want to poke their eyes out with a fork if they have to face another forced conversation. Quick. Let me say something genuinely funny to amuse them.”

At one point, I offered one of the missis to beat up her husband for her. I guess I am not going to get a promotion, again.

I also told a coworker whom I had not really spoken to before until that night that I love his wife. Huh. I don’t think it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship between me and him…

But the BEST part of the night? I finally got a picture taken of me in which I do not have ginormous fat arms that look like they are about the size of my torso.

Finally. A picture of me with NO fat arms. Yeah! This goes to prove that lighting is everything.

This heavily cropped picture somehow focuses on the cruel fact “Where the fuck did my waist go?” Oh hell. I will be happy with the NO fat arm for now. At least I am not making my friend look like she’s naked…

It's that horrifying moment when your friend's "fat arm" makes you look naked...

p.s. Yes. YES! I confess. I wrote this post just so I could post this picture. You are welcome. And if you spill anything on your clothes, take them off, take a nekkid picture, send that and the dry cleaning bill to moi. xxoo

The Perfect Storm

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When I was pregnant with my number two child, Mr. Monk, I suffered Deep Vein Thrombosis (aka blood clot) : my entire left leg was swollen before I realized it was not a muscle strain that’s been causing me excruciating pain, but rather something that could be life-threatening. My Obgyn immediately sent me to the emergency room – yes I drove myself (but I was not having a heart attack so I was not as crazy as this other gal I know…) and they put a filter into my aorta so no broken pieces of the Titanic-sized blood clot would get into my heart and stuff.

It only happened because the stars were lined up just so. A perfect storm so to speak.

Turned out I have a genetic disorder #$^%@%* that makes it easier for blood clot to form if my body has extremely low level of folic acid.

The amount in prenatal vitamins would have been more than adequate to prevent that.

By then I had been throwing up for about four months so no, I was not absorbing my prenatal vitamins properly, and I was severely undernourished, sustaining mostly on Gatorade. (Btw, I bet severe “morning sickness” would have been qualified for disability IF men could get pregnant…)

Your blood turns thicker when you are pregnant due to female hormones.

I was also extremely dehydrated which did not help with the blood thinning department.

Long story short: everything worked perfectly and BOOM! I had DVT, blah blah blah.

Why am I telling you this now? Because once again, the stars have aligned perfectly:

New job (my company was acquired)

+ New office

+ Two computers to deal with

+ Two systems

+ Two business processes

+ Two to-do lists

+ Longer commute (including my “I am on a fucking boat” moments, yes, I realized that)

+ Longer hours expected

+ Same kids

+ Same husband

= STRESS

STRESS = TEETH CLENCHING (which I did not realize I do all the time until now) = Massive and Rapid Bone Loss in My Teeth = Oral surgery to be expected

It is not like I have been having nightmares about losing all my teeth since I was young…

Head. Meet desk.

Hello, more stress. Nice to see you show up with more of your friends. Just come on in. Move right in. Mi case su casa.

So here is what I have… I found this blogger who has quite a few cartoons with cultural/social media commentary that make me:

OMG. ROTFL. DNPMPL. ITA. FML. IYKWIMAITYD.

Mr. Dave Walker actually encourages bloggers to embed his cartoons on their blogs. He has been doing this since 2005 and is probably one of the first people online to understand the concept of Sharing is loving...

So I am sharing this because Dear Internet, I love you, and I miss you, but I really need to prioritize the many things on my plate and focus especially on the ones that will help ensure I continue to have good dental insurance…

I am taking cover and waiting for the storm to be over.

cartoon from www.weblogcartoons.com

Source: Cartoons by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

Apology, Pet Peeve and Two Horses’ Asses

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Dear Internet,

I miss you.

Yes, in these past two weeks, you still see me coming around once in a while, reading articles online, sharing random pictures on Facebook and Twitter, and flirting with my lady friends with my witty one-liner tweets. It has been still only Drive-by Interneting, which in my book does not count as taking care of my second life, my Social Media life.

I have been a bad blogger friend. I am very sorry.

I had to get on the plane for a business trip the day after I got my root canal, which I later realized was only Part 1. The 3-day trip turned into a 4 day trip when I was assigned to a new project. I got home on Friday night, unpacked and then immediately packed for our trip to the Wisconsin Dells. In case you don’t know, Wisconsin Dells is where Kitsch is defined.

“Kitsch is the inability to admit that shit exists.” Milan Kundera

A visit to one of the giant indoor waterpark complexes, actually Ginormous would be the right word used to describe these monsters, is a definite renouncement of hipsterdom, of coolness. Something that declares, “Resistance is futile. The middle America will get you.” A surrender to suburban, bourgeois, parenthood.

There ain’t no shame in that. I guess…

“No matter how much we scorn it, kitsch is an integral part of the human condition.” Again, Milan Kundera

Onward, suburban soldiers!

I enjoyed an hour under Novocaine and laughing gas this Monday to finish my root canal, and as a consequence, for the next couple of days I was keenly aware of the existence of my tooth that’s supposed to be now nerveless (Is that NOT the point of root canal?) while I did the road warrior thing again. On Wednesday night, my flight home was delayed and I have not slept in my own bed for a full night for almost two weeks by now. But of course. I found mouse poo in our pantry. All over. Even on the top shelf. WTF? Flying mice? I spent two hours cleaning and throwing half of the stuff in the pantry away. I set up a trap and yes, I have blood on my hand. Figuratively. The Horror. The Horror. Still, I took a picture, but of course. Maybe soon I will write a post about how I felt like the Mafia this morning and a serial killer by night fall. For now though, before I go upstairs to be with my bed for (oh shit now only) 5 hours, could I just share a pet peeve of mine with you?

This has been bugging me forever... Is it just me?

As for the two horses’ asses in the title… I should not have fact checked. Because I did, I now cannot in good conscience post this interesting FACT about railroad gauges, wagons, wheel ruts, Roman Chariots, horses’ asses, and then back to train tracks and space shuttles. SNOPES.com ruins all the spamming fun… FACTS are sometimes quite inconvenient indeed. Sheesh. I am going to bed.

Affectionately yours,

Signed The Third Horse’s Ass

Getting into the Holiday Spirit

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Work.

“Single mother” for two weeks.

Business trip.

Sick.

Child hurting his foot by doing backflip on concrete floor.

Suspicion of a broken foot.

X-ray. Orthopedic surgeon.

Good news: Not broken.

Bad news: No other cure but time for the pain.

Advent Calendar = Sweets first thing in the morning.

Over-purchase of cookie doughs from school fundraising not realizing the size of the tub AND the requirement to freeze them.

Emergency!

Baked cookies = Sweets throughout the day.

Lots of baked cookies = HYPER! for kids. = Coma + Sense of self-loathing. For me.

Keen awareness of the locations of all my sinuses.

Avid supporter of the Kleenex industry.

Work.

Tendency to procrastinate.

Dying. To. Sleep.

But. Can’t.

Sum(A1:A20) = Massive SCROOGEdom = Major Cop-out with Pictures…

Here's what I had to say to the first snow this season...

Head in the Clouds

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I really should go to bed right now. I haven’t slept since I got up at 6:30 am yesterday.

Long story short: On Monday, I found out that the meeting where I would be presenting a Power Point slide deck based on the big giant Excel file that I have been living with has been pushed up to as soon as I land and get into the office. The problem with that is I am one of the worst procrastinators. Actually. No. I prefer to think of myself as a Deadliner aka one who is highly motivated and miraculously inspired when the deadline is right in sight. I’d spend the majority of the time before the deadline ruminating, musing, plotting, strategizing and agonizing over the task. Then when there is no more escaping it, BOOM! I sit down and complete the task with a lot of unnecessary stress.

[Insert clock-ticking sound effect from 24]

And yes, I memorized the times so I could later blog about it! There’s no shame in that…

4:22 am. Finally finished my presentation. OH SHIT FUCK HELL I AM GOING TO DIE!

4:30 am. Shower. Done. Wow I’m Speedy Gonzales.

4:45 am. Still figuring out what ~~not~~ to wear. Priorities, people. They are what keep us straight!

4:58 am. Left the house. SHIT FUCK HELL I AM GOING TO MISS THE FLIGHT! I am so tired but I am not tired. I am so jacked up. It feels so weird to drive the car in this state of utter exhaustion. The car seems to be moving on its own without me exerting too much pressure on the paddle. I keep on looking at the new moon that’s beckoning ahead of me, grasping at the wheel afraid that I may let go or make any sudden movement.

5:06 am. There is only one lane open on the highway. The traffic is completely backed up. Red brake lights as far as my eyes can see. OH SHIT FUCK WHAT THE HELL! Why is there a traffic jam at 5 in the morning?! I quickly swerve off the exit ramp and take the alternate local route. In the dark. When I can barely focus. And why are the roads all of a sudden so curvy? And what happened to the street lights?!

5:22 am. Much to my surprise, I arrive at the airport parking garage in one piece. Now let’s hope that the airport is empty and the security line is not too long.

SCORE! Breeze through security checkpoint. Thank you Tuesday morning!

5:31 am. Arrive at gate. And they have not started boarding yet. I WON! I am so awesome! I’m woman. Hear me roar! Doing the victory dance inside my head. These people have no idea what a feat I have just pulled. Oh god, I want to climb onto the chair and announce to the world all the crazy shit stunts I have just pulled to be able to catch this flight. They have NO FUCKING IDEA what a victory it is that I am sitting here right now at this gate!

But I need to tell somebody! Otherwise this memory, this moment of my glory, too, shall pass. It will not be wise to call and wake up husband in order to tell him that I have made it despite my procrastination.

Note to self: Need to blog about this so as to gloat in self’s awesomeness.

I lost all consciousness as soon as they forced us to turn off our phones and took a power nap. Naturally I looked (more) like crap when I got off the plane. Don’t believe me?

My eyes were bloodshot. The shadows underneath were not from poor lighting. I looked like a friggin’ druggie alcoholic vampire! What was worse was that my hair was completely limp and I was wearing a black dress shirt so I looked like…

Fortunately the presentation went well despite my lack of inner monologue – the fatigue feels like drunkenness. Several times I told my bosses, “Did I just say that out loud? Sorry.” I either succeeded in glamouring them with my vampire eyes or he was in awe of my being a dead ringer to an evil wizard.

I am dead tired but I don’t feel tired. I am running on pure adrenaline now. I am jacked up like Beavis and Butthead on their famous sugar high.

I am the great Cornholio!

I am having an out-of-body experience. It feels as if the speed of the film that is my existence is out of sync with everybody else’s. I am moving around in slow motion while the world whizzes by and nobody knows the better. It feels like I am swimming in the clouds I saw this morning from the plane.

What do you know. Come to think of it: I actually travelled through the clouds…

I am walking in the clouds now.

Postscript: OMG. One of my colleagues just startled me by throwing a big exercise ball at me. (Exercise balls are one of the options for “seating” in my company and therefore they are everywhere in the office). I did not realize until tonight that they make an adorable Boing Boing sound when you bounce them.

“You sure we are the only two people left now?”

“You sure there are no surveillance cameras?’

I ended up dribbling the big giant pink ball down the corridors of the empty office building and to my colleague’s surprise (and I hope, admiration) dribbling it under my knees.

So it has been confirmed: I am drunk. Drunk from too much adrenalin.

Called My Bluff

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The phone rang and I noticed the number was an unfamiliar one. Even the area code was one that I did not recognize.

“Hello. Hi. Let me introduce myself. I am So and So calling from blah blah blah…”

That’s all I heard since I pegged her as one of the telemarketers. I was more than a little bit peeved and was about to tell her off: she had made a telemarketing call to my work place. Absolutely not cool.

“So we have a bunch of private investors pouring xx million dollars into this new company…”

Ok. So great. Now this is a scam. “I get to blog about it!” I thought.

“We are looking for a VP of ________ . Are you interested in the position?”

I was about to say, “You must have mistaken me for someone else.” But I stopped myself.

Career Building 101. Never ever show lack of self-confidence or self-doubt. Never.

That meant I tried hard not to burst out laughing in the first five minutes because of the sheer ridiculousness of it. “You must be kidding me!”

As I listened to her spill, it suddenly dawned on me that SHE was trying to sell the position to ME.

Me.

I was in shock. Nay. My chest was closing in on me. My heart was pounding so hard I could not hear clearly what she was saying. I began to hyperventilating while trying to carry on a conversation while puffy messy goo swirled inside my head.

Goo of terror.

I was petrified. I had a full-on panic attack because just as suddenly it also dawned on me that THIS was the moment of truth. I had been called on.

It is one thing to be stuck in a job where you feel you are not being appreciated and utilized, where you feel you are not getting the promotions you deserve, where you feel your talents are being wasted. WHINE WHINE WHINE WHINE WHINE.

It is a completely different matter, I found out today, to be offered an opportunity and realize that you are not able to take it.

You are too chicken. You are not convinced that you are ready. You just want to be Grasshopper. Forever and ever. Less terrifying that way.

Who do I think I am? What do I think I will do showing up at this place trying to pretend that I can even interview for the position?

I started making up excuses that would not expose me as the fraud that I am. Hopefully.

Unrelated industry. The need to relocate. Not the 100% match of experiences. Oh and did I mention that the industry is completely absolutely totally different from the industry I have been in?

I started to shiver. I wanted to tell her, “You’ve got to be kidding me. You must be the worst executive recruiter I have ever heard if you even called me!”

My hands were shaking so hard and really I just wanted to end the phone call so I could lie prostrate, banging my head and arms on the floor. I was utterly, desperately, disappointed by myself.

The phone call called my bluff. I showed my hand and it was empty.

p.s. I don’t want to end my post on an alarmingly low note. I have issues. I know. I need therapy. But if I see one more so-called life coach follow me on Twitter, I will go berserk!

p.p.s. On an unrelated note, I will be getting a letter tomorrow, along with everybody else in the company, telling me whether I still have a job.

p.p.p.s. I am trying not to think of this phone call as a sign. A sign for what?! anyway. Or an omen.

p.p.p.p.s. Sorry for the sad vibes. Drinks on me!

What ya doin’?

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If you don’t count the works that were not supposed to be mine but when it all of a sudden became mine three precious days had passed and there were only two days left to work on it.

If you don’t count the general assholery that’s thrown over the wall to my cubicle.

If you don’t count wolfing down the rest of the Sookie Stackhouse True Blood Series because 1) I needed to escape reality so much that even blogging and twittering would not do, 2) the sex and the description of it just gets hotter and hotter between Sookie and Eric, and 3) I believe I have developed an addiction to voyeurism.

Nuthin’ much. Really.

I'm going to Disney World y'all. No. Not really. I've always wanted to say that.

I suspect that Dilbert has been following me around at work otherwise how can every single one of these recent comics be so accurate in telling what I am going through??!!

no images were found

Oh, yeah. I realized that using the time it took me to work on the picture of me announcing my trip to Dilbert World, I could have written a better post. Shut up. Thank you. xxoo

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Just keep on telling yourself that…

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I am under duress at work… I am a certified procrastinator for important projects. I will be obsessed with it, can’t stop thinking about it, being kept awake at night worried about it, but feel at the same time utterly powerless. It is like end of term at school with multiple papers due all over again… The fear of failure sometimes gets too overwhelming.

I found myself humming inside my head the songs from Mary Poppins on Broadway while I plowed along on my presentation… First up is, what else?

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

Then I move on to…. “Anything Can Happen (If You Let It)”

Anything can happen if you let it

Sometimes things are difficult

But you can bet it doesn’t have to be some…

Just what I need to hear right now… The following always gives me the goosebumps:

If you reach for the stars
All you get are the stars
But we’ve found a whole new spin
If you reach for the heavens
You get the stars thrown in

The last one is currently my “theme song”. I am sharing with you my secret right now… It is what gets me going on some of these days when I am so almost convinced that I suck at everything… I just hum it as I go along with the motions until, miraculously,

I Am Practically Perfect!

(Watch from 1:03)

I went to get Starbucks and I got an Existential Crisis instead…

The Absence of Alternatives

My therapy sessions…