This is dedicated to the job I haaaate . . .

Direct from SavageChickens.com:

. . . because I couldn't have said it better myself. And because, due to the above-referenced job, I have no thoughts to blog today - inspiring or otherwise.

Well, that's not entirely true. I have thoughts. Things like, "does Chicken Little have nothing better to do today that she must create work for herself by way of proofing my internal document to make sure I didn't miss some minute detail - which only WE will see anyway?"

Or "how much longer must I be tortured in this mind-numbing, brain cell killing job? And how much of my actual operating brain will I have left if I ever DO get out of here?"

And "if a chick pea is neither a chick nor a pea, why do we call it that?"


See? Aren't you glad I didn't share my thoughts with you today?

There's a reason "blackened popcorn" isn't an air freshener option

Ok - I've been wracking my brain this morning, trying to come up with a topic for today's post that will be both entertaining & informative . . . and then it hit me. Not the idea - the smell.

Burned popcorn.

There are few odors more offensive in an office environment than the smell of burned popcorn. Oh, sure - you've got the occasional cloud of hairspray or hideous cologne from the idiot boss in the next cubicle, wafting its way through the department. Or the insidious "silent but deadly" scents that may sneak out of any given space. But even those dissipate within an hour or less.

But burned popcorn? Holy mother of pearl - that's a foul smell that not only permeates the air around you - for several hundred square feet - but also lies dormant within the microwave until the next user. Then you get to experience it all over again - sometimes as an after taste in your food, if you're the unfortunate next user.

Now - here comes the "informative" part . . .

Microwave popcorn is not a new invention (and in spite of his attempt to invent it on his own in the late 70's & thereby turning someone else's microwave into a flaming chunk of plastic in the process, no, my dad didn't invent it). Few people can remember when microwave popcorn didn't exist. I'll even go so far as to venture a guess that the majority of the people in my office have probably cooked microwave popcorn in their own homes - and that their inaugural foray into this cooking experience did NOT happen here at the office. Additionally, microwaves have come a long way since they were first invented. Most, if not all, now have a "popcorn" button on them, setting it to a pre-set time to produce the perfect bag of popped, fluffy goodness. Takes the guesswork right out of it.

People, please. I implore you. Read the bag! If you're still unsure of the "3 to 3-1/2 minute" time recommendation, remember this - less is more. Less time = more unburned popcorn. Which equals less "Eau de Charred Corn" aroma emanating through the building.

Personally, I think this should be added to the employee evaluation questionnaire before you're hired. "How long does it take to pop an average bag of microwave popcorn?" Or, "Do you now or have you ever had difficulty with cooking food in a microwave without burning it?" The incorrect answer to each of these questions should result in immediate disqualification of employment consideration.

After all - THINKING we work in hell is one thing. Actually SMELLING the proof doesn't help our daily denial.

Yeah - that's what I SHOULDa said . . .

Y'know how you say something that you think is really clever at the time & then go back & realize you SHOULD have said something else? That's the case with my recent meme.

First of all, I totally missed the four places I've lived. Not that anyone is probably interested, but four of the places I've lived are (in order from birth to now):

Slidell, Louisiana (my birthplace - what's left of it after Katrina)
Benton, Louisiana
Lafayette, Louisiana (one of the coolest towns on the planet)
Hurst, Texas (I wasn't born a Texan, but I got here as soon as I could)

Ok - now THAT's done . . . after reading Suzanne's meme (thanks, Suzanne, for playing along!!), I realized I missed one of my favorite movies EVER! Office Space!!! I can't help myself - I watch it every time it's on - if only to see the guy talk about his stapler. And the fact that I now have a job very much like those profiled in the movie doesn't depress me at ALL! No sir! (insert eye roll here)

As for other things I should have said - I was raised in the south. Southern women are taught from a very young age that we do NOT talk back - we hold our tongues & bitch about it to our friends privately later. So my list of "things I should have said" is quite lengthy. At times, however, I surprise myself (and the person I'm speaking to) and say exactly what's on my mind - which, I must say, is quite a liberating experience. This is one skill my sister has down pat, for which I greatly envy her. Alas, those moments for ME are few & far between.

For example - when the waiter at the hotel restaurant we recently visited came by after ignoring us for a good 45 minutes & asked, "Is everything alright?", what I SHOULD have said was, "Oh yeah - everything's great. I always WANTED to pay $8 for an eight piece order of mildly lukewarm calamari that came from the Mrs. Paul's freezer (who I didn't even know HAD calamari), served with a side of ketchup-infused mayo instead of the "sundried tomato aoli" I was promised in the menu. And the fact that I haven't had any water to drink in the last 20 minutes has been one of the many highlights I will share with anyone I meet when asked to describe the attributes of your establishment. I hope this $1 tip on our $16 tab is equally alright with YOU."

Or when my overbearing boss (a.k.a. Chicken Little - because, to her, the sky is always falling), upon leaving the office at 4:44 pm yesterday, asked my co-worker & I, "Think you two can hold down the fort for the rest of the day?", what I SHOULD have said was, "Gee - we have to be in charge for 16 WHOLE MINUTES?? I don't know - I'm not sure I can handle that kind of pressure. Are you certain that you trust US with that kind of responsibility? I mean, we are, after all, apparently too stupid to know how to do our jobs without copying you on every stinkin' email we ever send; and we obviously are unaware of how email works, either, since every time you send us one, you feel it necessary to shout out over the cubicles, "DID YOU GET THE EMAIL I JUST SENT?" or - even better - get UP & come look over our shoulders to make sure we GOT the damn thing. Nor are we aware of how to call anyone on our own, since immediately after asking us to "Call so & so", you pick up the phone & do that very thing. So hold down the fort? For 16 minutes?? No - you've made it abundantly clear that we CAN'T handle that."

Yes - on the 8th day, God created Southern women - and on the 9th day, He created the blogs that would enable them to vent their frustrations to the world, thus saving them thousands of dollars in therapy sessions.

And God was pleased.

Whatsa meme wit ME? Whatsa meme wit YOU??

In spite of the fact that this is usually what I would regard as "spam" & delete, I feel obligated to reply to it because A) it came from Holly, B) it's my first "tag" via my brand new blog and C) it was called a "meme" (spam by any other name . . . ). So here goes:

4 Jobs I Have Had

My very first job (aside from oldest of four/built in babysitter) was working at an ice cream/hamburger joint called Hollies (coincidence? I think not). I flipped burgers, I took orders, I scooped ice cream, I made gorgeous banana splits. I rocked. I also learned first-hand what it was like to work for twenty-somethings on a power trip (I was all of maybe 15 or 16 at the time).

My second job was during my career education in high school. It only lasted a couple of weeks (because the guy paid with rubber checks), but I worked as a receptionist for a private investigator. I was probably 17 or 18 at the time - and quite naive (small town, remember?). My duties included answering the phone (which never rang), making coffee (which I don't drink & therefore couldn't make well, in the days before filter packs - he only asked me to do so once), and occasionally posing as a telemarketer to call "subjects" to get information from them for a case. Yeah - telemarketers ALWAYS ask, "What time did your husband get home last nite?" Needless to say, I don't think he's still a P.I.

My third job was actually my very first full-time, grown-up, right out of high school job. I worked as a Word Processor for Commercial National Bank. We had one big room in the basement, where a group of about six of us did all the word processing for the entire bank. Think of it as a secretarial pool for the 80's. This, of course, was back in the days of mainframe computers the size of a four passenger sedan. None of these things exist any longer, of course - rooms of people doing strictly word processing (as well as mainframes the size of sedans) gave way to PCs on everyone's desk and Commercial National Bank is now another bank by another name, the victim of one of the many bank mergers in the country. And suddenly, I feel very, very old.

My fourth job was actually my FIFTH job, but since I can only list four according to this meme . . . I worked as a Graphic Designer/Computer Services Technician/DTP Asst. Coordinator (whatever they wanted to call it that day) at Kinko's. For five years, I created/edited everything from resumes to invitations to brochures to flyers & learned everything I know today about typesetting, graphic design, etc. I also suffered through my fair share of stupid people in large groups - also known as "those who use self service computers and/or copiers". I loved the job, but five years in a retail environment at barely more than minimum wage was kinda my limit. Once again, neither this position or this company (as it originally was) exist any longer. I'm beginning to sense an "obsolete" theme, here.

4 Movies I Could (and Do) Watch Over and Over Again

I realize I should be far more cerebral & list movies like "Casablanca" or "From Here to Eternity", but come on - that would only make YOU feel inferior to me. And since it's all about YOU . . . .

Some of my many favorites (in no particular order):

Best in Show - I'm not a dog person, but I love this movie & the others like it (Waiting for Guffman, A Mighty Wind). Those people are freakin' genius.

West Side Story - because I love the songs & know pretty much every line, word for word. However, I gotta say - Tony was an idiot. He & Maria should've left when they had the chance.

Muriel's Wedding - I love Australian movies. And ABBA. Toni Collette at her early best.

Strictly Ballroom - Ok, so shoot me - I love musical movies (would you REALLY expect anything less?). Besides, this is yet another Australian/ugly duckling type movie. And the dancing is AWESOME!

4 TV Shows I Love

Lost - what the heck IS that "security system" thing, ANYway??
Extreme Home Makeover - guaranteed Sunday nite cry.
Desperate Housewives - yeah, yeah, I know; it's no Dynasty or Knots Landing. It's funnier. Which makes it better!
Grey's Anatomy - also funny, smart & with yummy Patrick Dempsey in the cast, not too hard to watch. Oh, and I LOVE me some George! I would SO date him - if I were single - and rich - and in Seattle - and he was real.

4 Favorite Books

Really too many to mention here - but if you're hoping for something really inspiring like War & Peace - well, you should know by now that I'll only disappoint you.

She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb
Wicked by Gregory Maguire
The Dieter by Susan Sussman
I Know This Much Is True by Wally Lamb

(there are others, but the titles escape me at the moment - and I want to get this silly thing published today!)

4 Places I Have Vacationed

Pensacola, Florida - friend's condo, which is currently in it's second state of repair, due to hurricanes. But SUCH a fun place!
New York City - went there on an anniversary trip with H3. WOW! What a city!! Can't wait to go back!
Montreal, Canada - attended H3's international convention there a few years ago. Beautiful place. Especially loved the underground mall. Would like to return & see more of the city.
Seattle, Washington/Vancouver, BC - lucked out & saw Seattle in all it's glory during a non-rainy week. July is definitely the best time to visit - especially if you're escaping the Texas heat!

4 Websites I Read Every Day

Dooce
Sarcastic Journalist
Go Fug Yourself
Overheard in the Office

4 Favorite Foods

If you've SEEN me, you know there isn't much food I DON'T like - so it's hard to pick a favorite. Hmmm . . . .

Friday's Spinach Artichoke dip
On the Border Chicken Tortilla Soup
Bennigan's Kilkenny Country Chicken Salad
Red Robin's Barbecue Chicken Salad

I'm also a dessert freak - especially love Applebee's Maple Walnut Blondie (cripes - I seriously need to get some freakin' CULTURE in my life!!! Bennigans?? Friday's??? Applebees??? Holy mother of pearl - I'm a victim of The Man!!)

Note to self: consume anymore chicken & you'll start growing feathers!


4 People I Am Tagging

This being my first blog - and my first meme - I'm a tad hesitant to tag anyone for this. So I figured I'd go out on a limb, hit "next blog" & tag those I found most interesting (as well as including one that I read every day). Ok - here goes nothin'!

Sarcastic Journalist
Conway Life
Just One More Thing
Reads With Dogs

And if you choose not to participate in the meme, I'll understand - and I'll still read your blogs. I just had to have something to finish out this page.

Let the meme-ing begin!

Glory Hog

Once upon a time in 1987, a very young, naive girl decided to join a very small chorus in her hometown of Shreveport, Louisiana. Her primary objective was getting voice lessons outside of the tiny church choir she sang with on a regular basis (which really only offered lessons in "how to sound twangy"). Little did she know that her membership in that very small chorus would literally change her life - in very large ways.

Ok, so the "very young, naive girl" was me (emphasis on "was"). When I joined the Sweet Adeline organization, I was a mere 21 year old nymph, had been married two years (yes - I was a child bride) & living out in the boondocks with the rednecks. So it really didn't take MUCH for this whole singing thing to change my life - I mean, the only direction I could GO was up, right?

Fast forward almost 19 years (yeah, do the math - I'm not 21 anymore). My membership in Sweet Adelines has lasted longer than all three of my marriages combined. I've had the privilege of singing with a total of four different choruses in three separate cities & am blessed with more friends than I can possibly count - many of whom I've never met personally. Change my life? Oh yeah. Kinda led to my first divorce (he couldn't handle the fact that I was growing my own brain & learning to use it); was partially responsible for two of my moves; was TOTALLY responsible for me being in the right place at the right time to meet H3 (he's a singer, too). The list goes on & on.

Back before I joined this organization, I never would have thought of myself as someone who enjoyed performing in front of other people. I know that anyone who knows me NOW will find this hard to believe (and my mother may have stories to directly contradict this), but I used to consider myself to be a somewhat shy person. Needless to say, I got over it (you HAVE to, in THIS group!). This past weekend, my current quartet "debuted" ourselves at a regional meeting - and, I must say, we brought down the house.

I may be one of the first to freely admit it - but audience applause is one of the best natural highs EVER (listed right under "great sex" - but if you can get applause AND sex - BONUS!). At the risk of sounding really narcissistic, it is SO COOL to have an audience applaud for something YOU did!! I didn't do it all by myself, however, - I am very blessed to be singing with three phenomenal women who are wonderful performers in their own rite. And it didn't hurt that the majority of these people are very dear friends who only want the best for me & anyone I'm performing with. But hey, friend applause is STILL applause!

My favorite statement of the evening came from the bass singer in my quartet, who came to me after we had performed for the masses & said, "You become a totally different person when you perform! But it didn't scare me!"

Eat your heart out, Mr. Hyde.

All the effects of a hangover - without the drinking fun

Last nite, H3 (which is what I decided to use as my code for the hubs - as he is the third & final spousal installment) and I were fortunate enough to be a part of a mixed harmony performance that was, to date, the highest freakin' hourly rate I have EVER earned. We sang a lot of "Ah" for about three minutes with 20 other people & will be paid $125 each for the privilege. If only I could find those gigs ALL the time! But I digress. Part of the preparation for this evening of obnoxious hourly rates was taking the entire day off - which meant, of course, that we slept until we woke up - which happened to be 10:30 am (and I don't feel one bit bad about it, so there). The fact that we slept so late would give me the false sense of being "fully rested" later on - but you'll see what I mean in a minute.

Sooo . . . we go to the gig, we sing, we're fabulous, we leave. H3 had his regular chorus rehearsal afterward, so three of my friends & I decide to attend (because one of my friends is single & we were "shopping" for her - hey, it's 120+ men who share a similar interest; eHarmony can't even give you that!). Rehearsal goes until 10:30. At 10:15, the oldest & youngest of my foursome decide they're whupped & leave. Logic told my other friend (who is 10 yrs. my junior) & I that we, too, should go home. BUT . . . there were BOYS there! And they SING! And they think I'M "f*ckin' cool!"!! Leave?? And miss an overabundance of ego boosting via male attention?? NEVAH!!!

So, against my better judgment (which, of course, was clouded by the large quantities of testosterone directed in my general vicinity; yes, I AM pathetic, thanks), I accompany H3 & my girlfriend to the bar. We ate, we drank (tea - Lipton, not Long Island), we laughed loudly, we gossiped with abandon, we flirted shamelessly (I am soooo very lucky that H3 is SUCH a good sport!!), we sang tags . . . until two freakin' a.m. What time do I have to get up to prepare for my day at the Gates of Hell?? Why, 6am, of course! I'm not GREAT at math . . . but I did figure out that four hours would not a deep sleep make. But, of course I still had my post-first divorce Infallible Girl in the back of my head saying, "Bah! Four hours? You've survived on less!"

Let this be officially noted for the record - Infallible Girl is a dumbass. She is officially dead to me, as her advice cannot be trusted. I woke up this morning feeling as though I'd been on an all nite bender - and sadly realizing that I felt these effects after drinking ICED TEA. I believe this makes me officially old. Next thing you know, I'll be having my lunches at ten, dinner at three & breakfast the day before. I'm probably just a kidney stone's throw from reading glasses on a chain around my neck & a shawl as a permanent fashion accessory.

However, I'm no quitter (two ex-husbands notwithstanding). I will fight this aging thing as hard as I possibly can. No cream, powder, ointment or miracle wrinkle remover will go untested. If I can't reverse the clock, I can at least removed one of the batteries & slow it down a little.

Right after my nap.

P.S. to TB - heaps of gratitude to you for your sizzlin' compliment. For as long as I'm able to remember it, you have made my day today!

Setting the record straight

Lest anyone reading Ms. Holly's blog should think that the "friend" she references as the maker of the casserole (which rocked, btw) is Melany, I am here to go on record as saying that it was ME, the UNNAMED "friend" - Melody - who actually assisted in planning & preparing for the party - and constructing said casserole - and consuming large quantities of pomegranate martinis (which also rocked, btw).

(I'm the "hot" redhead on the left, for those of you who might be confused - and I mean "hot" as in "power surge" - although, all compliments to the contrary are more than welcome).

Guess you gotta forgive the girl - she gets her Mels confused. I mean, can't you see why? We look SO much alike.

I gotta say, though - we WERE workin' it with the 'tinis! Go us!

Ok, Holly - I forgive you for not including your party co-conspirator in your blog. Just . . . don't let it happen again. Because, really - if I mention your name here one more time, people will start to talk.

The Inauguration

Ok - so I'm sheep. After getting hooked on various blogs by a friend of mine (ok, her name is Holly & she's the #1 Dancer) - and then feeling incredibly out of the loop for not having one of my own - I decided to give this blogging thing a shot & see how well I do at it. Hey, I can be funny & creative with the next guy - this should be a piece of cake, right?

Like Holly, I, too, am addicted to barbershop singing - with the same group. But I'm sure you'll hear more about that later - ad nauseum, no doubt. Hey, nobody's twisting your arm to read this stuff.

After reading other blogs, I've discovered that being around 30, having a toddler (or two) at home, taking digital pictures every day (with very expensive cameras, apparently) , being on (or needing to be on) some form of anti-depressant and talking about poop a lot seems to be one of the marks of a successful blogger. That & allowing comments.

Not to dash anyone's hopes here, but if this is the formula you seek when searching for another blog to read, let me stop you now. This page will only serve to disappoint you - and I don't need that kind of pressure. To be fair, I DO plan to allow comments and I may even venture into the occasional "poop talk". Heck, if you're lucky, I might even mention farts - both the literal & figurative variety. And if I ever get around to downloading them from the camera, you may even get the occasional picture I have taken (with my not-so-fancy digital camera), blurry though it may be, as I am without fancy lenses/flash attachments, etc. However, I passed being 30 exactly a decade ago (and am trying desperately to embrace that fact, so be kind), and the only time there's a toddler in my home is on the slim-to-none occasion that my sister or brother visits with their kids - which, since they've become toddlers, has been never. As for the anti-depressants, I'm not currently using one, but that's no guarantee that you won't think one is necessary after reading one or more of my posts - so consider that my gift to you, the reader.

What WILL there be here that may interest you, you ask? Who can say, really? There may be brilliant days when you find my musings to be exceedingly witty & hilarious & you walk away wanting to be me when you grow up. Then again, there may be days when you want to gouge out your eyes from having to read yet another word from me about my lame-ass job or my chorus or my family or how I constantly worry that we won't have enough money at the end of every month - to which I say . . . ain't voyeurism great? You get the good AND the bad!

Because I know Holly is waiting anxiously for me to post this, I will close now & publish this so she can link to it (and please note, Holly - my mention of YOUR name on MY blog = 4 times; your mention of MY name on YOUR blog = zero; who's the real friend NOW, huh???). ;-) But before I go - a random quote to get you through the day:

Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow.

Professional Driver - turnin' the corner.