So my small group asked me the other day how much longer I had to go in this Lent 3Q adventure. In all honesty, I haven’t looked because I’m not quite ready to be done. I might drag it out a little. I’m really getting into this flirting thing. For instance, I flirted my fanny off at work on Friday. I even went for the “sultry” voice (which in my case ended up being more like a sorta whisper but hey, I’ll take it).
As I type this blog entry I am switching back and forth between my blog and gmail so I can chat with my friend KK. She is great…one of my favorites (and should probably hire me for dating advice…ice cream and French kisses all the way KK!)...but she managed to remind/inspire me to throw out my new idea.
I’ve been thinking that while I may not be officially done with my daily flirts, I should maybe close out the 3Q with a bang (and maybe a fizzle too). To do so I’ve got a couple ideas. One, start the diet I’ve been meaning to start to lose 10…make that 20 lbs (I’m publicly admitting to this in hopes of motivation). T’s wedding is just around the corner and none of the bridesmaids are pregnant (unfortunate). I’ve also committed to my small group to try and get my classes on 2 or 3 nights so I can try online dating. I think that will be a frightening comedy of errors and awkward moments. You can read my previous online dating experiences in earlier blog entries. However, I digress.
My idea to close out 3Q is…..drum roll please….. to have a bachelorette party…FOR MYSELF! What better way to get my flirt on than if everyone thinks I’m getting married?!?! Maybe rent a party bus and wear only animal print? Free drinks and kisses from random guys!?!?! Dance my pants off at Funky Town? Penis jello shots? Seriously, if that isn’t a bang (and high probability of a fizzle) then I don’t know what is. The best news? You are all invited! I think it’s perhaps the most ingenious idea I have had in awhile. I need to work out logistics and cover story (feel free to submit ideas). It may have to wait a bit but I think it has merit. I’m not sure there is any more “holy” way to end Lent 3Q than in animal print, on a party bus to Funky Town with free drinks and random “last kisses” from a slew (a heap, a peck) of men with all my best girls.
That being said, I should go. One test down two more to go. Yay being an adult student….it is every bit as awful as you may think.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Back to school, back to school...to prove to Daddy I'm not a fool.
After completing my first week of the MBA course at UMKC I feel it is important to take a step back and reflect on the important things I have learned. And I thought I would share them with you guys.
1. I am old! Seriously. I would estimate myself to be in the top 30% of the age bracket for the MBA program. And that is being generous to myself.
2. Hipster is in, which means I am not. Everywhere I turn there are little kids (and by little I DO mean very young) walking around in skinny jeans and tudxeo vests (which may or may not actually be hipster). I’m so unhipster that I don’t even know what classifies.
To DO
-Read 300 pages for Org Behavior
-Study up on hipster
3. The Asian population runneth over. Do you think we have a ping pong team? Perhaps I should consider concentrating my flirting efforts in this ethnic group. Smart people, good food..just sayin.
4. People get really stupid on anything with wheels. Not only do people forget how to drive a car but they also seem to forget how to ride a bike. Seriously. I nearly died when someone almost ran into me with their bike on the sidewalk. THE SIDEWALK. Side WALK. W A L K. I had an irrational urge to yell something like, “This isn’t Exchange City, yo! Ride your bike in the grass foo’!” (Just in case you aren’t as gangster as I am, foo’ is the equivalent of fool…you are welcome.) Not really sure why almost being run over by a biker makes me feel like an gangster bad ass. Regardless, I didn’t even mutter the typical Schlemiel under my breath. No gangster cursing, no Jewish insult. Not to toot my own horn but, TOOT TOOT!
5. At some point in time it became socially acceptable to wear high heels with jean shorts to your class. Stiletto high heels even. I know I’m old (see #1) and I know I went to a nerd college for undergrad, but seriously? If ever a disco ball drops down from the ceiling and Snoop comes over the stereo in one of my classes I will eat my words, but until then I will judge and judge harshly.
6. Whoever built the buildings I’m attending class in forgot what it was like to be a student. (And perhaps were never the student that left work (5 minutes later than anticipated) that needed to stop and get gas so she didn’t have to push her car, which is where she promptly and very effectively noticed she left her wallet in her desk drawer so she had to go back to work and get it and then back to the gas station which turned her previously planned leisurely drive and classroom search into a frantic road rage performance where she ran to class and was almost late and certainly out of breath…phew). All this to say: why is room 101 on the 2nd floor? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
7. On a Friday night, when one needs to read a lot, one can make that experience more palatable by putting some wine in a strawed and lidded cup (thank you for everything you do in my life QT) and turning on Criminal Minds. One could pass, oh I don’t know, approximately four hours (which translates into 4 Criminal Minds episodes) on one’s couch on a given Friday night if these conditions are met. In theory of course.
While I’m excited to continue and learn the lessons the MBA program has to bring, for now I must bid everyone a good night. My bags are packed and I’m ready for the exciting adventures of week two (where one can only hope I find non skinny jean wearing guys older than 20 to flirt outrageously with. As my friend M keeps whispering in my ear: CHRISTMAS!). Stay tuned.
1. I am old! Seriously. I would estimate myself to be in the top 30% of the age bracket for the MBA program. And that is being generous to myself.
2. Hipster is in, which means I am not. Everywhere I turn there are little kids (and by little I DO mean very young) walking around in skinny jeans and tudxeo vests (which may or may not actually be hipster). I’m so unhipster that I don’t even know what classifies.
To DO
-Read 300 pages for Org Behavior
-Study up on hipster
3. The Asian population runneth over. Do you think we have a ping pong team? Perhaps I should consider concentrating my flirting efforts in this ethnic group. Smart people, good food..just sayin.
4. People get really stupid on anything with wheels. Not only do people forget how to drive a car but they also seem to forget how to ride a bike. Seriously. I nearly died when someone almost ran into me with their bike on the sidewalk. THE SIDEWALK. Side WALK. W A L K. I had an irrational urge to yell something like, “This isn’t Exchange City, yo! Ride your bike in the grass foo’!” (Just in case you aren’t as gangster as I am, foo’ is the equivalent of fool…you are welcome.) Not really sure why almost being run over by a biker makes me feel like an gangster bad ass. Regardless, I didn’t even mutter the typical Schlemiel under my breath. No gangster cursing, no Jewish insult. Not to toot my own horn but, TOOT TOOT!
5. At some point in time it became socially acceptable to wear high heels with jean shorts to your class. Stiletto high heels even. I know I’m old (see #1) and I know I went to a nerd college for undergrad, but seriously? If ever a disco ball drops down from the ceiling and Snoop comes over the stereo in one of my classes I will eat my words, but until then I will judge and judge harshly.
6. Whoever built the buildings I’m attending class in forgot what it was like to be a student. (And perhaps were never the student that left work (5 minutes later than anticipated) that needed to stop and get gas so she didn’t have to push her car, which is where she promptly and very effectively noticed she left her wallet in her desk drawer so she had to go back to work and get it and then back to the gas station which turned her previously planned leisurely drive and classroom search into a frantic road rage performance where she ran to class and was almost late and certainly out of breath…phew). All this to say: why is room 101 on the 2nd floor? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?
7. On a Friday night, when one needs to read a lot, one can make that experience more palatable by putting some wine in a strawed and lidded cup (thank you for everything you do in my life QT) and turning on Criminal Minds. One could pass, oh I don’t know, approximately four hours (which translates into 4 Criminal Minds episodes) on one’s couch on a given Friday night if these conditions are met. In theory of course.
While I’m excited to continue and learn the lessons the MBA program has to bring, for now I must bid everyone a good night. My bags are packed and I’m ready for the exciting adventures of week two (where one can only hope I find non skinny jean wearing guys older than 20 to flirt outrageously with. As my friend M keeps whispering in my ear: CHRISTMAS!). Stay tuned.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
QMI for Lent 3Q
So I feel the need for confession. Lent 3Q has not jumped off to a strong start. I was doing ok. Flirting with someone every day, taking it pretty easy but making sure I got my flirt in. I’m still doing that, sorta. HOWEVER I’m failing on some major fronts. I’ve compiled a list:
1. I went to Funky Town on Friday with CP and very little flirting took place. (As a side note, it was Elvis night…try not to be too jealous). I did, however, sweat enough to fill a bathtub, but flirting was minimal. So what some of the guys were missing teeth? SO what they are as old as my dad? Discrimination is not in the SMART goals for Lent 3Q.
2. Yesterday was an epic fail. I had a headache and it didn’t go well. I flirted with nobody. Unless you count my pitiful begging of advil from a cube neighbor where I may have flirted, if you count threats of vomiting if I didn't get the headache undercontrol. Your call.
3. TODAY I felt much better and thought I would flirt like a maniac. Clearly a lie straight from the pit(s)of hell (does hell have more than one pit? Marta, shouldn’t you know this?) . One of my candidates came in this afternoon for his round of interviews. B had two things going for him that really hindered my flirtiness (besides the obvious potential coworker and current job applicant of the establishment in where I work in HR…sticky…but hey Lent supersedes interoffice policy). The first big issue that B had was some extremely odiferous cologne. One spray will do buddy, one spray will do. The second thing he had going for him that really put a damper on my flirting plan, was a complete and utter lack of respect for my personal space. He stood up to shake my hand and kept right on walking into my bubble. IT was so bad that I took a visible step back from him. I mean, he noticed. OOOOOPPPPS. I think that is the antithesis of flirting. I totally crumbled under the first sign of real pressure. Sigh.
Overall I’m going to need to step up my game. Classes start for me next week which I feel like could be my “busy season” in 3Q. Perhaps I’ll buy a cosmo and shave my legs in preparation (because isn’t that what you do or does that just mean I want to have sex?). I wonder if there is a class for flirting? I think I’ll google it.
Anyway, QMI is sad. Thankfully, tomorrow is another day. I was invited to a friend’s house tomorrow nigh (which I didn't decline, even though I need to clean and do laundry and have a book to read). So maybe I will be a big flirt there. Stay tuned. Not sure why, but I really feel as though B’s cologne served as a harbinger to “Megan Hunter’s life becomes a laughing disaster, take #3058”.
So hopefully this time next week will be good news to report. Perhaps I’ll threaten myself with some kind of repercussion if I don’t shape up. Maybe I’ll take a cue from every awesomely awful singing movie ever (cough Coyote Ugly..love that one) and sign up for amateur stripper night if I don’t get it together. Similar right?
1. I went to Funky Town on Friday with CP and very little flirting took place. (As a side note, it was Elvis night…try not to be too jealous). I did, however, sweat enough to fill a bathtub, but flirting was minimal. So what some of the guys were missing teeth? SO what they are as old as my dad? Discrimination is not in the SMART goals for Lent 3Q.
2. Yesterday was an epic fail. I had a headache and it didn’t go well. I flirted with nobody. Unless you count my pitiful begging of advil from a cube neighbor where I may have flirted, if you count threats of vomiting if I didn't get the headache undercontrol. Your call.
3. TODAY I felt much better and thought I would flirt like a maniac. Clearly a lie straight from the pit(s)of hell (does hell have more than one pit? Marta, shouldn’t you know this?) . One of my candidates came in this afternoon for his round of interviews. B had two things going for him that really hindered my flirtiness (besides the obvious potential coworker and current job applicant of the establishment in where I work in HR…sticky…but hey Lent supersedes interoffice policy). The first big issue that B had was some extremely odiferous cologne. One spray will do buddy, one spray will do. The second thing he had going for him that really put a damper on my flirting plan, was a complete and utter lack of respect for my personal space. He stood up to shake my hand and kept right on walking into my bubble. IT was so bad that I took a visible step back from him. I mean, he noticed. OOOOOPPPPS. I think that is the antithesis of flirting. I totally crumbled under the first sign of real pressure. Sigh.
Overall I’m going to need to step up my game. Classes start for me next week which I feel like could be my “busy season” in 3Q. Perhaps I’ll buy a cosmo and shave my legs in preparation (because isn’t that what you do or does that just mean I want to have sex?). I wonder if there is a class for flirting? I think I’ll google it.
Anyway, QMI is sad. Thankfully, tomorrow is another day. I was invited to a friend’s house tomorrow nigh (which I didn't decline, even though I need to clean and do laundry and have a book to read). So maybe I will be a big flirt there. Stay tuned. Not sure why, but I really feel as though B’s cologne served as a harbinger to “Megan Hunter’s life becomes a laughing disaster, take #3058”.
So hopefully this time next week will be good news to report. Perhaps I’ll threaten myself with some kind of repercussion if I don’t shape up. Maybe I’ll take a cue from every awesomely awful singing movie ever (cough Coyote Ugly..love that one) and sign up for amateur stripper night if I don’t get it together. Similar right?
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Lent...take 3.
The third tim eis a charm.
So last night I was having dinner with my friend CP and she helped me decide my new Lent. Actually she suggested I make my newest endeavor my third Lent. It can be Lent Q3 if you will…appropriate. So the new goal is to add something instead of taking something away. Previously I decided to not eat out. I did so so on that Lent.
For Lent Q3 I’m going to be adding to my daily life. I’ve decided to add (DRUM ROLL)flirting. Yep that’s right, flirting. I am going to attempt to flirt with everyone I see. Ok just kidding (sort of), but as my friend M says I’m going to, “Get my flirt on”. We will see how it goes.
I was thinking about this while lying in bed and I decided I should come up with some parameters on what I think flirting is and who should be exempt. Please see the following Flirt Rules:
1. All is fair in love and flirting except for the marrieds. This means ugly, cute, bald, snaggle tooth, and comb overs all get flirted with. Yes (and this will shock several of you) even the short guys. However, if somebody put a ring on it, they are exempt.
2. Not necessary to flirt all the time but it is necessary to flirt every day. You know what they say, “a solid flirt a day keeps the cat lady title away”. As a byproduct I had better amp up my social outings or the person in the cube next to me is going to get a lot of eye batting and giggling (and she is a 60 year old lady). Could be a problem
3. If you ask, I will go. Due to the fact that I need to get out more to participate in this Lent, I’m game to do whatever (as long as it isn’t while I’m in class or at work…mostly). I can turn no invitation down (again , as long as it doesn’t interfere with my commitments…solitude no longer counting as a commitment).
4. Wikepedia defines flirting as, “a playful, romantic or sexual overture by one person to another subtly indicating an interest in a deeper relationship with the other person, and can involve verbal communication as well as body language. I believe everything wikepedia says, so I think that I will take that definition for now. Think hair flinging, giggling, and small touches on the hand. That’s me.
5. Lastly I’m willing to be held accountable(ish). This is a change for me because usually I refuse to listen to advice on this topic. Although I always nod my head and PRETEND like I’m going to listen. Now, I’m going to try. If its suggest, I’ll give it a whirl (serious suggestions only).
This should be interesting. I’ll keep you updated on my progress. Perhaps by September 18th I will be one of those girls you have to preempt with a comment like, “oh she doesn’t mean anything by it, she is just flirty by nature”. Yeah!
So look out world. I’m on the prowl. (That last sentence was painful to type and sort of made me feel like a cougar previous to when it became popular. Or perhaps I feel more like the lady in the pleather snake skin mini skirt with red lipstick on her teeth. It’s a tossup. Either way I shan’t delete it because Lent Q3 is my first step in prevention…well maybe step 2 since I don’t own a pleather snake skin mini skirt.)
Oh also I think I’m going back to Funky Town (the place where a lady asked me to be her sex slave…que Rhianna) soon. Could be interesting.
So, on that note...Ciao(please insert hair flip and coy smile)
So last night I was having dinner with my friend CP and she helped me decide my new Lent. Actually she suggested I make my newest endeavor my third Lent. It can be Lent Q3 if you will…appropriate. So the new goal is to add something instead of taking something away. Previously I decided to not eat out. I did so so on that Lent.
For Lent Q3 I’m going to be adding to my daily life. I’ve decided to add (DRUM ROLL)flirting. Yep that’s right, flirting. I am going to attempt to flirt with everyone I see. Ok just kidding (sort of), but as my friend M says I’m going to, “Get my flirt on”. We will see how it goes.
I was thinking about this while lying in bed and I decided I should come up with some parameters on what I think flirting is and who should be exempt. Please see the following Flirt Rules:
1. All is fair in love and flirting except for the marrieds. This means ugly, cute, bald, snaggle tooth, and comb overs all get flirted with. Yes (and this will shock several of you) even the short guys. However, if somebody put a ring on it, they are exempt.
2. Not necessary to flirt all the time but it is necessary to flirt every day. You know what they say, “a solid flirt a day keeps the cat lady title away”. As a byproduct I had better amp up my social outings or the person in the cube next to me is going to get a lot of eye batting and giggling (and she is a 60 year old lady). Could be a problem
3. If you ask, I will go. Due to the fact that I need to get out more to participate in this Lent, I’m game to do whatever (as long as it isn’t while I’m in class or at work…mostly). I can turn no invitation down (again , as long as it doesn’t interfere with my commitments…solitude no longer counting as a commitment).
4. Wikepedia defines flirting as, “a playful, romantic or sexual overture by one person to another subtly indicating an interest in a deeper relationship with the other person, and can involve verbal communication as well as body language. I believe everything wikepedia says, so I think that I will take that definition for now. Think hair flinging, giggling, and small touches on the hand. That’s me.
5. Lastly I’m willing to be held accountable(ish). This is a change for me because usually I refuse to listen to advice on this topic. Although I always nod my head and PRETEND like I’m going to listen. Now, I’m going to try. If its suggest, I’ll give it a whirl (serious suggestions only).
This should be interesting. I’ll keep you updated on my progress. Perhaps by September 18th I will be one of those girls you have to preempt with a comment like, “oh she doesn’t mean anything by it, she is just flirty by nature”. Yeah!
So look out world. I’m on the prowl. (That last sentence was painful to type and sort of made me feel like a cougar previous to when it became popular. Or perhaps I feel more like the lady in the pleather snake skin mini skirt with red lipstick on her teeth. It’s a tossup. Either way I shan’t delete it because Lent Q3 is my first step in prevention…well maybe step 2 since I don’t own a pleather snake skin mini skirt.)
Oh also I think I’m going back to Funky Town (the place where a lady asked me to be her sex slave…que Rhianna) soon. Could be interesting.
So, on that note...Ciao(please insert hair flip and coy smile)
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
We go together like an orange moped and a flame helmet
3 Random paragraphs put in one space for your reading (pleasure?)
So the other day, while driving, I saw a guy riding down the road with an orange moped and a flame helmet. For about 5 seconds I was judging him and his poor decision making skills, but then I realized that a flame helmet really is the ONLY kind of helmet that goes with an orange moped. As I sat at the stop light I wondered what Flame Helmet Guy did and who he was. Maybe I will date FHG one day? I've tried to see him again by going home the same way at the same time, but no luck. Stay tuned. If I see him again maybe I will gently "accidentally" run him off the road and meet him. We could get married on mopeds...what color of brides maid dress go with orange and flame?
Went to NKOTBSB. It was...interesting to say the least, but I will say above all else that it was a total people watching delight. Between the lady who actually brought her infant (yes...I mean NOT still in the womb) and the middle aged women breasts that were hanging out everywhere I laid out enough judgment to land myself straight in the pit of hell itself. As far as the groups go, BSB is same ol' wholesome, I want to wear your letter jacket type of group. Lovely. (Except for Nick. I think he does speed. Is he 27? Maybe we will see him on celebrity rehab soon.) And they can sorta sing, just like always. NKOTB is another story. Thank goodness for Donny's body or they would have been a total wash. Jordan should never sing...maybe not even at a birthday party. I think the pinnacle of the evening was when Donny ripped off his shirt and rubbed his body with it (including his man junk) and threw it to an audience member. I can't be certain if this is my new "NKOTB kinda sucks" self talking, but I'm pretty sure my personal hygiene rules would have required I not catch the sweaty balls tank top from Donny...nice body or not. Just sayin.
Lastly, I had a flat tire the other day. I changed it myself, which I was pretty proud of. I did call my dad though, because my driveway is an incline which I know is bad for jacking up your car. So my dad tells me to put a brick underneath it. Quick pole: who has brick laying around their house? I promptly responded in kind to my father who then suggests I find a cinderblock. Really dad? If I don't have a brick, then I PROBABY DON'T have a cinderblock. By the grace of God and my Yoga Mat (which saw more of workout that morning wedged under the tire then it has in a LONG time) my car didn't role, my tire got changed, and my lovely friend Marta picked me up so I didn't have to wait around for it all. Overall success. However, maybe I'll by a single brick next time I go to a hardware store and keep it in my trunk with my jumper cables. In fact, maybe I should market a package that has a brick and jumper cables as a joint deal. Investors anyone?
And now.....SLEEP!
So the other day, while driving, I saw a guy riding down the road with an orange moped and a flame helmet. For about 5 seconds I was judging him and his poor decision making skills, but then I realized that a flame helmet really is the ONLY kind of helmet that goes with an orange moped. As I sat at the stop light I wondered what Flame Helmet Guy did and who he was. Maybe I will date FHG one day? I've tried to see him again by going home the same way at the same time, but no luck. Stay tuned. If I see him again maybe I will gently "accidentally" run him off the road and meet him. We could get married on mopeds...what color of brides maid dress go with orange and flame?
Went to NKOTBSB. It was...interesting to say the least, but I will say above all else that it was a total people watching delight. Between the lady who actually brought her infant (yes...I mean NOT still in the womb) and the middle aged women breasts that were hanging out everywhere I laid out enough judgment to land myself straight in the pit of hell itself. As far as the groups go, BSB is same ol' wholesome, I want to wear your letter jacket type of group. Lovely. (Except for Nick. I think he does speed. Is he 27? Maybe we will see him on celebrity rehab soon.) And they can sorta sing, just like always. NKOTB is another story. Thank goodness for Donny's body or they would have been a total wash. Jordan should never sing...maybe not even at a birthday party. I think the pinnacle of the evening was when Donny ripped off his shirt and rubbed his body with it (including his man junk) and threw it to an audience member. I can't be certain if this is my new "NKOTB kinda sucks" self talking, but I'm pretty sure my personal hygiene rules would have required I not catch the sweaty balls tank top from Donny...nice body or not. Just sayin.
Lastly, I had a flat tire the other day. I changed it myself, which I was pretty proud of. I did call my dad though, because my driveway is an incline which I know is bad for jacking up your car. So my dad tells me to put a brick underneath it. Quick pole: who has brick laying around their house? I promptly responded in kind to my father who then suggests I find a cinderblock. Really dad? If I don't have a brick, then I PROBABY DON'T have a cinderblock. By the grace of God and my Yoga Mat (which saw more of workout that morning wedged under the tire then it has in a LONG time) my car didn't role, my tire got changed, and my lovely friend Marta picked me up so I didn't have to wait around for it all. Overall success. However, maybe I'll by a single brick next time I go to a hardware store and keep it in my trunk with my jumper cables. In fact, maybe I should market a package that has a brick and jumper cables as a joint deal. Investors anyone?
And now.....SLEEP!
Monday, June 20, 2011
A quarter for my thoughts
t's been awhile. I'm not really sure why except that I haven't felt the writing bug. No inspirational stories about dominatrix or hemorrhoids. Just life.
So here are a bunch of random thoughts I've been thinking about while introspecting:
Random though #1
Commitment. I think I have commitment phobia/anxiety. I'm not really sure why, and I don't really mean relationships here, although certainly that’s probably true as well. I just know that commitments always seem to muddle things. Take for instance this team I'm in charge of at church. For almost a year I've been mostly running the team. Things have been going fine, I don't mind it or anything. Then my friend M asks me to officially take over the team and bam all of a sudden I don't like it. I almost hate it. It’s a burden, it makes me feel cornered when I want to do things, I'm not doing near as good of job leading it as when I wasn't leading it. Or trying to decide what I want to study in my MBA. I still have 5 classes because I can't decide what to drop and commit to. Why is it then when things become serious I seem to run screaming (or at least get unhappy because I feel trapped). It’s weird. My parents seem to have a pretty healthy committed view. I don't know why in my own schematic commitment spells disaster for me. I often wonder if it’s because of the seriousness in which I take responsibility.
Random though #2
At what price does happiness come? I wonder consistently what one is required to sacrifice in life to obtain "happiness". Perhaps this post is becoming harsh and pessimistic, but it seems to be a true fact of life. We, as people, are constantly sacrificing because we want some sort of better happiness. I just wonder what that balance looks like. Should I be fat and eat what I like? Should I be happy with the money I make and skip grad school and working to continue in my career? Should I stop doing that face mask that makes my skin burn and deal with wrinkles later (Lindsay if you are reading this then no comment necessary from you on this one!)I can't really say that I mind all the sacrifices. I just wonder what the balance is of living? Is that something we find out as we get older? Why is life so much harder than anyone ever tells you? Or perhaps it’s not and I just make it that way.
Random Thought #3
Should I highlight my hair? I've been putting some serious thought into this. As a general rule of thumb I feel like it’s a waste of money. However, as of late I’ve been feeling like having my natural color is excluding me from the sexy hair club. I’m not even sure what color I would chose but God knows I can’t be left out of the sexy hair club.
Radom Thought #4
Christmas is quickly approaching. Send all your single friends my way! :)
Random (Final Thought) #5
I went to my family reunion the other day and was reminded by cousin (6.33 times removed...don't ask) of something. If you are reading this blog then chances are you are loved by me. Not because you are reading my blog and I didn't have to pay you, although that doesn't hurt, but because we have a past and a history. You probably helped shape me into who I am and were a friend or family or peer or mentor or something. You made my load easier. So thanks. You are loved. (Unless of course you have randomly come across my blog and are reading because you find it entertaining, which means I really love you!...seriously...).
For now sleep. But seriously feel free to comment on #3, or any of them, but especially #3.
Much love to those who read me.
-Me
So here are a bunch of random thoughts I've been thinking about while introspecting:
Random though #1
Commitment. I think I have commitment phobia/anxiety. I'm not really sure why, and I don't really mean relationships here, although certainly that’s probably true as well. I just know that commitments always seem to muddle things. Take for instance this team I'm in charge of at church. For almost a year I've been mostly running the team. Things have been going fine, I don't mind it or anything. Then my friend M asks me to officially take over the team and bam all of a sudden I don't like it. I almost hate it. It’s a burden, it makes me feel cornered when I want to do things, I'm not doing near as good of job leading it as when I wasn't leading it. Or trying to decide what I want to study in my MBA. I still have 5 classes because I can't decide what to drop and commit to. Why is it then when things become serious I seem to run screaming (or at least get unhappy because I feel trapped). It’s weird. My parents seem to have a pretty healthy committed view. I don't know why in my own schematic commitment spells disaster for me. I often wonder if it’s because of the seriousness in which I take responsibility.
Random though #2
At what price does happiness come? I wonder consistently what one is required to sacrifice in life to obtain "happiness". Perhaps this post is becoming harsh and pessimistic, but it seems to be a true fact of life. We, as people, are constantly sacrificing because we want some sort of better happiness. I just wonder what that balance looks like. Should I be fat and eat what I like? Should I be happy with the money I make and skip grad school and working to continue in my career? Should I stop doing that face mask that makes my skin burn and deal with wrinkles later (Lindsay if you are reading this then no comment necessary from you on this one!)I can't really say that I mind all the sacrifices. I just wonder what the balance is of living? Is that something we find out as we get older? Why is life so much harder than anyone ever tells you? Or perhaps it’s not and I just make it that way.
Random Thought #3
Should I highlight my hair? I've been putting some serious thought into this. As a general rule of thumb I feel like it’s a waste of money. However, as of late I’ve been feeling like having my natural color is excluding me from the sexy hair club. I’m not even sure what color I would chose but God knows I can’t be left out of the sexy hair club.
Radom Thought #4
Christmas is quickly approaching. Send all your single friends my way! :)
Random (Final Thought) #5
I went to my family reunion the other day and was reminded by cousin (6.33 times removed...don't ask) of something. If you are reading this blog then chances are you are loved by me. Not because you are reading my blog and I didn't have to pay you, although that doesn't hurt, but because we have a past and a history. You probably helped shape me into who I am and were a friend or family or peer or mentor or something. You made my load easier. So thanks. You are loved. (Unless of course you have randomly come across my blog and are reading because you find it entertaining, which means I really love you!...seriously...).
For now sleep. But seriously feel free to comment on #3, or any of them, but especially #3.
Much love to those who read me.
-Me
Monday, May 23, 2011
Post its, name plates, and high heels...oh my-An update on the new job for Brittany H.
So the new job. I had no idea what to expect when I started my new job as a Recruiting Support Specialist in HR at a company of 650ish people but I can easily say that a first week with 7 hours of overtime was not it. With over 60 positions to fill it seems like there is more work to be done than when I worked for a nonprofit. BUT I’m really not complaining. I like it. And for the first time in EVER I get paid overtime…so work away, that’s what I say!
So I spend my days mostly scheduling interviews, speaking with potential clients, and overall trying to wrangle the schedule and largeish egos of corporate executives all over the country. It is an interesting phenomenon that was tempered last week with the luxury of scheduling some lovely ladies interviewing for a secretary. Overall the people are nice and email is a blessing.
This is my first time ever working for corporate America. I have TWO computer screens complete with windows 2010! I had to fight for a computer a PFH. I have all the supplies I can sneeze at and just spent well over a thousand dollars to fly one candidate in for a an interview…we may not even hire him. So while I stand in awe of the money that flows out, I vacillate between the giddy excitement of my shiny toys and complete and utter disgust at the pure indulgent waste.
However, I refuse to be jaded (for at least the first month). I really do like this job. Flexible hours, no vacation or sick day restrictions, casual dress, and I hear we are having beer Thursday this week. SO in the spirit I’m going to do a top ten list:
The Top Eight (because I’m too tired for ten) Most Fascinating Things About Megan’s New Job
1. Lunch time is a fallacy. If it requires utensils then you had better save it for dinner.
2. There is no soda machine but there are “snacks” in the break room…for free. Todo, I don’t think we are in nonprofit anymore.
3. Our building says we are ATI testing but not one of our 6 business units carries that as a name.
4. The other day at a town hall meeting our boss gave away a $50 gift card to the person who asked the most antagonistic question about salaries and bonuses. He literally got paid for being an ass.
5. We HAVE BEER FRIDAYS (or Thursdays) which entails free beer in the break room.
6. Some lady drives a mini with British tags. She doesn’t have a British accent. Maybe she wants to look cool?
7. Lots of the men wear cardigans. Either the sign of a cold building or a group of porn stars…its up in the air for me still.
8. Sometimes, whole rows of cubicle will simultaneously stand up on the hour and do stretches together. I’m just waiting for them to come in wearing the same shoes and offer me a drink of their Kool-Aid.
Regardless I'm excited for the things to come. Stay tuned.
So I spend my days mostly scheduling interviews, speaking with potential clients, and overall trying to wrangle the schedule and largeish egos of corporate executives all over the country. It is an interesting phenomenon that was tempered last week with the luxury of scheduling some lovely ladies interviewing for a secretary. Overall the people are nice and email is a blessing.
This is my first time ever working for corporate America. I have TWO computer screens complete with windows 2010! I had to fight for a computer a PFH. I have all the supplies I can sneeze at and just spent well over a thousand dollars to fly one candidate in for a an interview…we may not even hire him. So while I stand in awe of the money that flows out, I vacillate between the giddy excitement of my shiny toys and complete and utter disgust at the pure indulgent waste.
However, I refuse to be jaded (for at least the first month). I really do like this job. Flexible hours, no vacation or sick day restrictions, casual dress, and I hear we are having beer Thursday this week. SO in the spirit I’m going to do a top ten list:
The Top Eight (because I’m too tired for ten) Most Fascinating Things About Megan’s New Job
1. Lunch time is a fallacy. If it requires utensils then you had better save it for dinner.
2. There is no soda machine but there are “snacks” in the break room…for free. Todo, I don’t think we are in nonprofit anymore.
3. Our building says we are ATI testing but not one of our 6 business units carries that as a name.
4. The other day at a town hall meeting our boss gave away a $50 gift card to the person who asked the most antagonistic question about salaries and bonuses. He literally got paid for being an ass.
5. We HAVE BEER FRIDAYS (or Thursdays) which entails free beer in the break room.
6. Some lady drives a mini with British tags. She doesn’t have a British accent. Maybe she wants to look cool?
7. Lots of the men wear cardigans. Either the sign of a cold building or a group of porn stars…its up in the air for me still.
8. Sometimes, whole rows of cubicle will simultaneously stand up on the hour and do stretches together. I’m just waiting for them to come in wearing the same shoes and offer me a drink of their Kool-Aid.
Regardless I'm excited for the things to come. Stay tuned.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
So the other day I was babysitting some kids. It’s kind of what I seem to be doing in my spare time now days. And this little girl, name Fyn (Who had a little brother named Becket but every time she said her brother’s name it sounded like “Bucket” and I giggled) was telling me what she was learning about at school (preschool, apparently some kind of catholic preschool).
So Fyn says to me (while she, myself and “Bucket” are sitting at the lunch table), “Do you know that God is invisible?” I confirmed that I was aware of the theological truth of the invisibility of God’s person (or whatever one would call it). Fyn took a bite of her carrots and then turned and looked at me and said (very seriously), “Well God is invisible BUT (and she gets this HUGE grin on her face) Jesus isn’t invisible.” I could do nothing more than mimic her Christmas morning grin and agree.
In truth, Fyn the four year old who still can’t wipe her own behind, nailed it on the head. Sometimes it seems bleak and God (who, or is it whom, is also magic according to Fyn while Jesus is just a little magic) does seem very invisible to me. I struggle to grasp hold of something that I can see. In the darkest of night I want God to turn on a nightlight. But in his invisibility that doesn’t seem possible so it’s a good thing that Jesus is visible. So this blog goes out to Fyn (and Bucket) for helping me uncover my head and recognize the complete visibility of my nightlight in the dark. Thanks for the spiritual lesson before rest time!
So Fyn says to me (while she, myself and “Bucket” are sitting at the lunch table), “Do you know that God is invisible?” I confirmed that I was aware of the theological truth of the invisibility of God’s person (or whatever one would call it). Fyn took a bite of her carrots and then turned and looked at me and said (very seriously), “Well God is invisible BUT (and she gets this HUGE grin on her face) Jesus isn’t invisible.” I could do nothing more than mimic her Christmas morning grin and agree.
In truth, Fyn the four year old who still can’t wipe her own behind, nailed it on the head. Sometimes it seems bleak and God (who, or is it whom, is also magic according to Fyn while Jesus is just a little magic) does seem very invisible to me. I struggle to grasp hold of something that I can see. In the darkest of night I want God to turn on a nightlight. But in his invisibility that doesn’t seem possible so it’s a good thing that Jesus is visible. So this blog goes out to Fyn (and Bucket) for helping me uncover my head and recognize the complete visibility of my nightlight in the dark. Thanks for the spiritual lesson before rest time!
Sunday, April 24, 2011
The story of one girl's epic battle with oatmeal
A slightly more serious line of thought. So I’m a little late to the party but I’ve officially decided what I’m giving up for lent. YES I know its Easter. (I proclaimed that, “He has risen indeed” at least three times today.) We all know that the Lord works in mysterious ways and perhaps my brain is the most mysterious of them all. So here is the deal.
I hate my current job (with a capital H). Sad story, but true nevertheless. One of the things I hate the most, besides the awful chaos and mismanagement of every possible product we have, is making the oatmeal in the morning. Since I’m ALWAYS the first one there I have to start the oatmeal so it will be done. We make those long cooking oats, you know the ones that taste really bland until you add about half a cup of brown sugar, nuts and raisins (all served right beside it). Anyway, so I have to put in the oatmeal, add water, and put it in an industrial Crockpot (ON HIGH) so that it can cook the full hour while I prepare other things.
It took me about 2 months and Andy (my morning coworker) not getting out of bed one morning, for me to even attempt the oatmeal. It makes me nervous. People are very serious about their oatmeal. On a scale of 1 to 10 it rates right up there with World Peace and the brand of toilet paper you should use in some people’s lives (I know I don’t get it either. Why not buy the packets with the delicious, and cute, strawberries and cream swirls that you can nuke for a minute throw in a tablespoon of butter and call it a day). So the first time I did it I followed the directions exactly which yielded about ¼ of the amount I needed. Not good. So from there on out it was left to eyeballing it.
Well as ridiculous as it sounds, nearly a month later, I still base my morning success on how well the oatmeal was received. (Who knew I would at 26 base my value on my oatmeal making skills). Here are a few tips I’ve learned along the way (in case you ever find yourself in my predicament:
1. An open lid every 5 minutes does not allow for heat to maintain in the cooker so I have to just throw it in and give it a whirl for the first forty minutes.
2. If you open the lid at 5:45 and it looks a little thick all is not lost, just add some hot water and stir it in.
3. When you don’t turn the heat up all the way it takes longer to cook.
4. People always prefer the thing that requires the process. I don’t know why but time has value (even for oatmeal).
5. Go with your gut and commit! 9 times out of 10 if I just stick with what I dumped in first, then I’m good to go.
6. Some people like it soupy, some people like it thick. Neither way will please everyone so just do what you think is best and take the compliments with the criticisms.
While this list is not comprehensive of the things I’ve learned while making oatmeal, it certainly is representative of a multitude of my life areas. I’m always so nervous to do things in my life. I drag my feet allowing others to do it until the proverbial coworker doesn’t get out of bed and then I’m forced into a corner (does that even makes sense?). But as it turns out EVERYTHING is a process and not an event and that is what makes it good. I’ve got to just throw in all my cards, go with my gut, turn the heat up full blaze and let it cook with the faith that I’ve done it right (or that I can add some hot water too it in the five minutes before people start rolling in). In the end, it may not please everyone but not everyone has to eat oatmeal, and the truth is that some people like the end product quite a lot.
With my job search, enrolling back in school, facing death with friends, and being hurt by people I love (and probably hurting them in return) I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of simmering in the industrial crock pot of life. It’s been tumultuous (still is). I’m not really sure how it’s going to end up but it will either be thick or soupy and somebody is going to eat it or they won’t and tomorrow I’ll start the whole process over again and see if I can do better. God is good that way. That’s what I’m taking away from this. But because I don’t want to forget this lesson I’m going to start my lent tomorrow. I think I’ll start with doing away with the most simple way I cheat myself of the process and stop eating out (although I’ll still allow myself one Sabbath because I love my friends and don’t want to have to say no all the time).
So for the next forty days I’m going to stop eating out and hopefully spend time (when cooking) reflecting about what God’s got cooking in my pot. Maybe this will be helpful, maybe not (at the very least it should lend to my budget!). Who knows what God has in store? Regardless, I’m going to go with my gut, toss in what I think, close the lid and leave it closed. Hopefully when I reopen this lid on June 5th I’ll have something that is worth sharing!
I hate my current job (with a capital H). Sad story, but true nevertheless. One of the things I hate the most, besides the awful chaos and mismanagement of every possible product we have, is making the oatmeal in the morning. Since I’m ALWAYS the first one there I have to start the oatmeal so it will be done. We make those long cooking oats, you know the ones that taste really bland until you add about half a cup of brown sugar, nuts and raisins (all served right beside it). Anyway, so I have to put in the oatmeal, add water, and put it in an industrial Crockpot (ON HIGH) so that it can cook the full hour while I prepare other things.
It took me about 2 months and Andy (my morning coworker) not getting out of bed one morning, for me to even attempt the oatmeal. It makes me nervous. People are very serious about their oatmeal. On a scale of 1 to 10 it rates right up there with World Peace and the brand of toilet paper you should use in some people’s lives (I know I don’t get it either. Why not buy the packets with the delicious, and cute, strawberries and cream swirls that you can nuke for a minute throw in a tablespoon of butter and call it a day). So the first time I did it I followed the directions exactly which yielded about ¼ of the amount I needed. Not good. So from there on out it was left to eyeballing it.
Well as ridiculous as it sounds, nearly a month later, I still base my morning success on how well the oatmeal was received. (Who knew I would at 26 base my value on my oatmeal making skills). Here are a few tips I’ve learned along the way (in case you ever find yourself in my predicament:
1. An open lid every 5 minutes does not allow for heat to maintain in the cooker so I have to just throw it in and give it a whirl for the first forty minutes.
2. If you open the lid at 5:45 and it looks a little thick all is not lost, just add some hot water and stir it in.
3. When you don’t turn the heat up all the way it takes longer to cook.
4. People always prefer the thing that requires the process. I don’t know why but time has value (even for oatmeal).
5. Go with your gut and commit! 9 times out of 10 if I just stick with what I dumped in first, then I’m good to go.
6. Some people like it soupy, some people like it thick. Neither way will please everyone so just do what you think is best and take the compliments with the criticisms.
While this list is not comprehensive of the things I’ve learned while making oatmeal, it certainly is representative of a multitude of my life areas. I’m always so nervous to do things in my life. I drag my feet allowing others to do it until the proverbial coworker doesn’t get out of bed and then I’m forced into a corner (does that even makes sense?). But as it turns out EVERYTHING is a process and not an event and that is what makes it good. I’ve got to just throw in all my cards, go with my gut, turn the heat up full blaze and let it cook with the faith that I’ve done it right (or that I can add some hot water too it in the five minutes before people start rolling in). In the end, it may not please everyone but not everyone has to eat oatmeal, and the truth is that some people like the end product quite a lot.
With my job search, enrolling back in school, facing death with friends, and being hurt by people I love (and probably hurting them in return) I feel like I’ve been doing a lot of simmering in the industrial crock pot of life. It’s been tumultuous (still is). I’m not really sure how it’s going to end up but it will either be thick or soupy and somebody is going to eat it or they won’t and tomorrow I’ll start the whole process over again and see if I can do better. God is good that way. That’s what I’m taking away from this. But because I don’t want to forget this lesson I’m going to start my lent tomorrow. I think I’ll start with doing away with the most simple way I cheat myself of the process and stop eating out (although I’ll still allow myself one Sabbath because I love my friends and don’t want to have to say no all the time).
So for the next forty days I’m going to stop eating out and hopefully spend time (when cooking) reflecting about what God’s got cooking in my pot. Maybe this will be helpful, maybe not (at the very least it should lend to my budget!). Who knows what God has in store? Regardless, I’m going to go with my gut, toss in what I think, close the lid and leave it closed. Hopefully when I reopen this lid on June 5th I’ll have something that is worth sharing!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
The secret life of a caterer
So the other day at work my boss told me he had to go to the doctor because (and yes this is a direct quote) “I need to get a scope up my butt”. Let me give you a little back story on my boss. He is very nice. People (especially our guests) LOVE Craig. He is also very flamboyant and gay. I’m not talking Jack from Dawson’s Creek kind of gay, more like Will from Will and Grace kind of gay.
So anyway, he tells me he needs to have this colonoscopy. Wowza. If there is one thing that way jumps over the boss/employee boundary it is to know anything about my very gay boss’s anal region. A N Y T H I N G. I just told him to do what he needed to do and I hope it all turned out ok. He says to me, but you don’t understand Megan I’m bleeding down there. OK. Enough. NO MORE. Just take care of it Craig.
So, the next week he comes into work and tells me he has to have surgery because when they “put the scope up my butthole they found hemorrhoids…really big hemorrhoids”. Once again I feel like this is a huge jump over the Boss/employee line. However, I just simply tell Craig I’m glad it isn’t worse. To this he responds, oh well it gets worse. (Of course it does). I also have Vagina warts. (Ok. Lets be real. Vagina warts? Seriously. You don’t HAVE a vagina. And again way more information then I need. Vagina warts….) I was able to mostly keep it together and express my sympathies while quickly extracting myself from the fount of information that was my boss.
All this has lead me to the conclusion that people talk if you listen. Heck, people talk if you don’t listen. Here is to hoping I never again have to have a conversation with a boss that includes the words butthole or vagina warts.
So anyway, he tells me he needs to have this colonoscopy. Wowza. If there is one thing that way jumps over the boss/employee boundary it is to know anything about my very gay boss’s anal region. A N Y T H I N G. I just told him to do what he needed to do and I hope it all turned out ok. He says to me, but you don’t understand Megan I’m bleeding down there. OK. Enough. NO MORE. Just take care of it Craig.
So, the next week he comes into work and tells me he has to have surgery because when they “put the scope up my butthole they found hemorrhoids…really big hemorrhoids”. Once again I feel like this is a huge jump over the Boss/employee line. However, I just simply tell Craig I’m glad it isn’t worse. To this he responds, oh well it gets worse. (Of course it does). I also have Vagina warts. (Ok. Lets be real. Vagina warts? Seriously. You don’t HAVE a vagina. And again way more information then I need. Vagina warts….) I was able to mostly keep it together and express my sympathies while quickly extracting myself from the fount of information that was my boss.
All this has lead me to the conclusion that people talk if you listen. Heck, people talk if you don’t listen. Here is to hoping I never again have to have a conversation with a boss that includes the words butthole or vagina warts.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Contemplations on being submissive (and I don't mean in the wifely way)
So the other day (this marks the first in my serious of "so the other day" blogs) I went to Funky Town with a friend of mine. Lillie is a little more mature in years (fine wine and all that) and so we got there a little early. (Actually I think we got there at like 8 o'clock which I think is really early. But we sat in my car talking while L passed more gas then I will use in a vehicle in a lifetime and chatted. Eventually the workers of Funky Town waved us in...yes I said they waved us in, hilarious). When we finally went in the place was empty and so we sat as close as we could to the dance floor but were still back a couple tables because the ones in front of us were reserved.
Eventually there three people sat down at the first of the reserved tables (a couple whose names I never did learn and a lady named Susan). Anyway after a small passing of time they told us we were welcome to move up a table because they weren't going to need the second table they had reserved. Sweet! It is always a goal when one visits Funky Town to be as close to the action as possible. So we moved up and exchanged some pleasantries. I found out that Susan was 43 and I complimented her on not at all looking her age. She assured me it was due to her fake breasts (second set, but hey who is counting). I agreed that they must clearly be the cause and wandered back to my new, shiny and much closer table.
Most of the night passed fairly uneventful (with the exception of the nerdy boys bachelor party that stole my heart...the villains!). At some point another man had joined Susan's party and the couple seemed to have left. Toward the end of the evening the new guy in the party approached me and commented on how I must feel young at Funky Town because he felt young at age 45. I politely informed him that Funky Town is solely a "dance your pants off" kind of establishment and that age matters little when I'm sweating like a man from dancing to 60's, 70's and 80's music all night long.
Susan (young boobs) came over and looked at her friend and said (referring to me), "Isn't she adorable". Her friend agreed and then she went on to inform me that he was her sex slave and that she was a Dominatrix. Ok. From then I think it best I relay the rest in conversation form:
Me: "Well Congratulations on having your own sex slave"
Susan: "You know I'm always looking for good female slaves if you’re interested."
Me: "Well as it turns out I'm not very submissive"
Susan: "Those are the best kind!" (While giving me her phone number and name)
Me: "Thanks for the offer and if I change my mind you will be the first to know"
And then we left. I guess I can cross "Get asked by a woman to be her sex slave" off my bucket list. Big accomplishment.
So I guess the moral of this story is that my milk shake brings all the S and M bisexual Dominatrix ladies to the yard.
Eventually there three people sat down at the first of the reserved tables (a couple whose names I never did learn and a lady named Susan). Anyway after a small passing of time they told us we were welcome to move up a table because they weren't going to need the second table they had reserved. Sweet! It is always a goal when one visits Funky Town to be as close to the action as possible. So we moved up and exchanged some pleasantries. I found out that Susan was 43 and I complimented her on not at all looking her age. She assured me it was due to her fake breasts (second set, but hey who is counting). I agreed that they must clearly be the cause and wandered back to my new, shiny and much closer table.
Most of the night passed fairly uneventful (with the exception of the nerdy boys bachelor party that stole my heart...the villains!). At some point another man had joined Susan's party and the couple seemed to have left. Toward the end of the evening the new guy in the party approached me and commented on how I must feel young at Funky Town because he felt young at age 45. I politely informed him that Funky Town is solely a "dance your pants off" kind of establishment and that age matters little when I'm sweating like a man from dancing to 60's, 70's and 80's music all night long.
Susan (young boobs) came over and looked at her friend and said (referring to me), "Isn't she adorable". Her friend agreed and then she went on to inform me that he was her sex slave and that she was a Dominatrix. Ok. From then I think it best I relay the rest in conversation form:
Me: "Well Congratulations on having your own sex slave"
Susan: "You know I'm always looking for good female slaves if you’re interested."
Me: "Well as it turns out I'm not very submissive"
Susan: "Those are the best kind!" (While giving me her phone number and name)
Me: "Thanks for the offer and if I change my mind you will be the first to know"
And then we left. I guess I can cross "Get asked by a woman to be her sex slave" off my bucket list. Big accomplishment.
So I guess the moral of this story is that my milk shake brings all the S and M bisexual Dominatrix ladies to the yard.
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