Woot woot! Friday! How’s everyone doing? Any big plans for the weekend? Today is our annual company Halloween party , which is always just a bizarre shitshow – you’ve never really lived until you’re playing beer pong with a high level sales manager … in a conference room…and you’re wearing a sorry looking DIY cardboard boat costume … and he’s in drag…and it’s 2:15 PM. Just trust me on this one.
And then tomorrow, Brian’s parents and my mom will be meeting for the very first time! Insert silent scream here. I’m nervous, you guys! I’m sure it will all go swimmingly, but listen, I’ve seen every single installment of the Meet the Parents franchise (don’t judge me), so I know that hijinks can ensue at ANY TIME. Two thumbs WAY up to the very kind host at our local brunch spot who was super nice in putting up with my, let’s go ahead and say, mild histrionics when I called begging for a reservation, even though they don’t generally reserve tables for brunch.
Here’s a cool pro-tip: want to get a seat at the hottest joint in town? Just call them up, cry, and go deeply into your personal fears and anxieties and they’ll reserve you a table right snappy! Yes, it’s probably because they suspect you might blow up the establishment if they don’t, but that’s just something you’ll have to live with.
I want everything to be perfect. So sue me!
(Wedding planning with me is going to be a dream experience for all parties involved.)
Send me chill vibes tomorrow, will you?
Now, why don’t we take a look at what (else!) was keeping it awkward this week.
This Trash Bin:
I am consistently awkward, in a way that is surely condescending to the highest degree, when interacting with our office custodial staff. There are three women who work on our floor and every evening around 5:30 they come by to empty our trash bins – they’re all very sweet and nice but also speak super limited English and I’m a bad American who ONLY speaks English and also a horrifically self absorbed monster who feels guilty about this fact, so I always overcompensate by just senselessly blabbering whenever they walk into the room and making a huge scene trying to be helpful – usually picking up whatever food products I’ve spilled on the floor that day – and I’m sure they just wish I’d sit there and be normal…actually I’m sure they don’t give two hoots about me AT ALL but I can’t seem to stop.
Anywhoo, the other night, one of the women (gals?) (ladies?) (I don’t even know their names! I hate myself so much!) came in to grab the bin, and I rolled my office chair out of the way and in the process rolled it over my foot and then yelped, loudly, “OH GOD!!!”
The poor woman immediately looked concerned and so obviouslllyyy I had to start yammering “No! I’m fine! It’s just my foot! The chair! My foot!” and basically threw the trash can at her in an attempt to “play it cool” while holding onto my broken, crippled foot.
She all but sprinted out of my office and probably the building, forever.
Wouldn’t blame her.
I am the WORST.
In other news related to the well-being of my crura (which is how you say legs in Latin. Look it up. I just did!)…
This is the main corridor of Penn Station where I slipped on a wet spot on Sunday afternoon and straight bit it. Right down on my knees, bags flying, arms akimbo, there in the middle of New York’s busiest transportation terminus.
Smooth move, Ferguson!
Bought 2 birthday cards the other day and somehow left the store with 5 envelopes. Anyone need 3 card envelopes? I’ll sell ’em to ya. $4 each or $97 for all 3!
This is me and some of my xxxxtra kewl co-workers (hi guys!).
(P.S. I swore that outfit looked better in person. Maybe? Grubby Tuesdays are the new Casual Fridays.)
Have any of you read the Divergent series by Veronica Roth? No, because you’re not 14? Fair enough, good answer! For those of you not in the know, Divergent and its sequels Insurgent and Allegient are the latest hot craze in the YA Dystopian Fiction world, the new Hunger Games if you will. They are terrible and make no sense…which is to say, they are AMAZING and I cherish them.
They’re set in the future, in a city that used to be Chicago, and all people are divided into five “factions” based on their personality traits. And then obviously there is some kind of ridiculous war and a love story – usually i can’t really get that into romances in YA books, you’re 12, you’ll break up after graduation anyway, but this time I am deeply, deeply invested in the love story and I may or may not have a passionate crush on a fictional 18-year-old boy. No shame in my game!
All of the factions have specific manners of dress as well as faction logos, which are available in temporary tattoo form so if you happen to be a super mature 29-year-old adult woman, you can dress in faction garb…complete with ink.
What’s that sound I hear? Oh, that’s the nerd alert ringing louddd and clear. Even if you don’t know the details of what we’re wearing, trust when I say this is basically the equivalent of rolling into the workplace in a Gryffindor robe. (And if you don’t know what a Gryffindor robe is…why are we even speaking?!)
Luckily for me, I have pals just as weird as I am.
And that, mon freres, was my week! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to do some Jell-o shots next to the copy machine. Happy Weekend!
xoxo Liz Ho