On knowing more than someone could ever imagine

Two years ago I was fully sucked into the world of the social networking site. At one point I had a Friendster, MySpace AND Facebook profile going. Insisting to myself that was absurd, I deleted myself from Friendster. Of the three, it's the old people site. Let's be honest. And I want nothing to do with voluntarily signing up for old people things until it's time for the senior citizen discount at the movieplex.

One of the reasons these sites are so addictive is the random connections you are able to re-establish with friends from long ago. And by "connection" I mean an exchange of approximately 1.75 messages/comments that say something like this "OMG! How ARE you?" "OMG! I'm great! It's so good to be back in touch." And.... scene.

Recently one of the new "friends" that entered into my MySpace world was a guy I "kinda sorta" dated in high school. OK, let me clarify. This guy was awesome to me and thought I was pretty flippin' amazing, and my way of returning the favor was to soak up all the attention, string him along and then break his precious heart. We all have one. That fantastic person who we treated like crap just because, well, they let us and we were dumb enough not to know better. He was never going to be the guy for me, but he certainly was a good friend and one I could have treated with a lot more respect. Not a proud moment for me.

So we're now "friends" on MySpace but really haven't said much to each other at all. I've poked around his site nonetheless, he has a lovely wife and seemed to be doing great. Until I poked around some more out of total boredom and uncovered that, in the last week, his older brother was in a horrible accident, suffered severe head trauma, went into a coma and, upon a serious consultation with the doctor, the family took him off of life support as the chance for recovery was slim to none and, even if he did recover, he would have been a vegetable. Celebrations of his life have been organized on both coasts. I cannot imagine what he and his family are going through.

I feel horrible for them. But I also feel like I have completely violated some veil of privacy. It's no longer a shock to me just how much information you can get, with little effort, about anyone on the Internet, but to have uncovered something so tragic, so personal.. I almost feel like a thief. I want to reach out, but I can't. It's a strange sensation. I'm mourning, though I feel no right to mourn. So, I guess I'll use this blog to send my subconscious sympathy and condolences to my friend and his family, and hope he knows he's in my thoughts, without really having a clue.

On a general sense of awesomeness

Today was day one back at work after my vacation. Other than not getting much sleep last night at all (was still on the vacation clock after all!), it really was an OK day. Not to mention that I got through the 100 e-mails in my Inbox in under 2 hours. C'mon. You have to agree that's damned impressive. Now just think what it would have looked like if I DIDN'T check e-mail over vacation.

People also kept saying how great I look. Rested .. this time with pigment! You really can't beat that.

On unhappy eyes and ears...

I have an unpopular opinion to share. I fear it may ruin your perception of me but my feelings on the issue are simply so strong that I cannot bear to hold them in.

I saw Happy Feet. I saw Happy Feet and I hated it.

Yes, the movie with the adorable singing and dancing penguins with strong messages regarding the need for greater environmental consciousness. Please understand I was completely on board with this movie prior to viewing it. I was swept up in the penguin madness of the 06-07 film cycle and jumped for joy when Happy Feet won the Oscar for Best Animated Film. I'm so embarrassed to have been hosed in this way.

Did everyone just agree to love Happy Feet because it was the year of the penguin and God forbid we show ANY dislike of something tied to An Inconvenient Truth? I think this is the case because really, honestly, this movie sucks.

The cute baby penguin is the only saving grace of the movie, and you only get to watch him for the first twenty minutes or so. Then, sadly, he grows older and, to make matters worse, is voiced by Elijah Wood. Whenever I hear his voice I simply hear him moaning Samwise Gamgee's name. There's nothing cute about that.

This movie has NO story line. No plot whatsoever. Don't get me wrong, things happen to tell some sort of story, but they happen kind of haphazardly. Furthermore, as my wise and ever observant boyfriend noted, there is a STRONG anti-church/religion message that can be interpreted without too much effort via the role of the elder penguins. I'm all about freedom of speech, don't get me wrong, and I'm not disagreeing with the messaging, per se, but it is a bit jarring to see this in the context of a children's movie.

And the singing? It's just... weird. I dunno. The movie never reaches that comfortable, "we're a cartoon musical" point, but it also can't shake that reputation because of the singing.

And why, if so many of the other characters have Australian accents, did Hugh Jackman take on an Elvis-wannabe voice and Nicole Kidman some other breathy American accent? This is reaching the far side of a seriously drug-induced spectrum.

SPOILER ALERT!

Finally, one of the more interesting parts of the movie occurs when the main penguin, Mumble, ends up in a zoo while on a panicked mission to save his home and fellow penguins. A bit like Finding Nemo? Sure, but Nemo's environment is softened with the introduction of other characters in his new environment. This does not happen in the zoo scene and Mumble's transition to the zoo is treated in such a disturbing manner, showing the penguin confronting the realization of his false environment and displays the agony of him trying to communicate, believing he's doing so, when all anyone on the outside hears is squawking. As a child, I'm quite certain I would have struggled with the tension in this part of the movie and was, quite frankly, appalled at the juxtaposition of this more mature scene and the immaturity (not meant negatively) of the rest of it. Is it more disturbing than Bambi's mom dying? Ok, probably not, and maybe I'm being a bit overprotective of children I neither have nor know. As such, I went so far as to consult with one of my best friends, a mother of two young ins, about it, but she assured me her oldest emerged from the scene unscathed. "Then again," she said, "You never know what will set them off. She was afraid of Hello Kitty and the Care Bears at one point." OK, fine, I've over thought this one.

I do realize this is a children's film and perhaps I'm holding it to an unfair standard. I will also confess that in the era of films like Shrek and Toy Story, I've become accustomed to kids movies that have jokes and references snuck in for the older crowd. Nevertheless, I have yet to see a children's movie so muddled in its attempt at storytelling. If it just wanted to be a movie about singing and dancing penguins, it could have been, but it tries to be a few different things and doesn' succeed at any one of them.

And for the love of God, why did they give Robin Williams TWO roles in this movie? It's hard enough to watch him in one.

On reminders that all is right with the world

Danica McKellar, aka Winnie Cooper of The Wonder Years, has written a book for middle school aged girls called Math Doesn't Suck. For those of you who don't know, Danica took a hiatus from acting to, you know, go to school, and earned a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics from UCLA. She hopes to use this book to encourage young girls to focus on smarts and dissuade them from looking to morons like Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan for a moral compass. I love her for doing this.

I also love her for being 32. As long as Winnie is still older than me and maintains that baby face, all is right with the world.

On the wonder of time away...

I've just returned from a vacation to Wilmington/Wrightsville Beach, NC. That at least partially excuses my blogging absence. If you're wondering how my trip was, let me put it this way...

Any town where I am consistently offered a side of ranch dressing to accompany any food item on my plate is a town with which I can't help but fall in love.

But that's only the beginning. The landscapes I witnessed throughout my 4 days and nights included the following:



To quote the waiter from our last dinner out on the town, as he described my cheesecake, Wilmington "doesn't suck."

What's not to love about this place? These were some of the most beautiful beaches on which I've laid eyes, and that means a lot coming from a native Mainer who tends to get defensive about the importance of a rocky coastline. But the beauty of the place itself extends to downtown and historic Wilmington and I really can't decide which "side" of our vacation I most enjoyed, the beach or the city.

If I have to decide, I'm going to go with the city. Again, the beaches are second to none, but they also occupy a real "surf culture". As one who has never tried to find a home within the surfer community, I felt like a more of a natural fit as I walked historic Wilmington. A true southern city that has advanced without loss of identity (thanks, Cor), a visit to Wilmington allows you to encounter a place occupied but not damaged by the Civil War and thus home to beautiful architecture with a fantastic mix of both colonial and European influence (those iron balconies everywhere simply scream Paris). It is a city proud of its heritage and history, as seen by residential homes with occupier purchased historical plaques, but one that also embraces the young. The first night we literally stumbled upon an outdoor bar with free live music and great beer specials, with plenty of seating to go around. It was fantastic. Furthermore, there is a wide variety of alternative stores and clubs that exist on Front and Water Streets amidst more traditional coffee houses and restaurants. You can find anything here. Well, except a chain. Good luck finding a Starbucks or a fast food joint or a Chili's on this side of town. It doesn't exist. There are at least 2 independent coffee houses within a few blocks, amidst authentic Italian delis, upscale pubs and fondue. These are also directly next door to biker bars, cowboy bars, used book stores and a store selling nothing but columns. Yes, for buildings. Oh, and within all of these fantastic eateries is truly wonderful food. We did not have a bad meal the entire time and, minus a couple of exceptions, we were really aiming to do things on the relative cheap. From "Crab and Carolina Cheese" Pizza Nachos, to the authentic southern fried chicken at a lunch buffet, to the fondue of a lifetime at the Little Dipper, even the toughest of foodies will find supreme gastronomy satisfaction along the streets of Old Wilmington.

The place is also completely charming and thoroughly romantic. We took three different tours of the city (horse-drawn carriage, riverboat and ghost walk) and found something more beautiful with each excursion. The pace of life and the surrounding beauty are infectious. I was already madly in love with my boyfriend on the way down to NC, but I fell in love with him all over again while on this trip. A walk down cobblestone streets lit by gas lamps and surrounded by locals eager to say "Good evening!" will do that to you. And yes, I could speak of Southern hospitality quite candidly as existing in true form to this day, but I feel like my trip to Wilmington unwrapped it on an entirely different level. The general warmth of the people was contagious, but in a very laid back and genuine manner. I've always been suspect of this general reputation of Southern hospitality; thinking of it in terms of in your face smoke and mirrors for the sake of appearances. Cynical, yes, I am aware. But what we experienced was nothing like that. The demeanor of the people is a bit like a warm summer breeze. It's weaves in from time to time, checking in on you and making you feel at ease, but otherwise tends to its own. You can even feel it all the way down to its downtown parking lots. Your first hour is free, it's a dollar per hour every hour after that, but they won't charge you more than $5 for the day and, guess what, if you're still parked there past 9 pm, they're going to leave the gates open and let you go for free. My guess is they realize if you've spent that much time parked downtown, you've given their merchants some solid business and they're simply happy to have provided the conduit for the exchange. Or maybe I'm making that up. Either way, I am a complete sucker for this town now, and, quite frankly had to keep reminding myself of the red flags about the South so I didn't try to pick up and move there.

You never realize how much you need time away until you return from it. And I'll confess that I checked in with work regularly, but only due to absolute necessity. Still, I felt focused on fun and relaxation and it did wonders for me. I slept like a baby. I didn't drink a single cup of coffee. We didn't turn on the TV for three days. I didn't curse (well, not much anyway) and I smiled a lot. I slowed down. It was fantastic.

Finally, Cory and I found the holy grail of eateries on our way home this morning. We found... a Sonic! When you live in DC, you are taunted by Sonic commercials at what feels like every break. Upon realization that you've never seen one around but must have a Sonic Cookie Dough Blast immediately, you go on their website to discover that the closest one is 70 miles away. Talk about false advertising! Anyway, we found one and we conquered it. The drinks at this place are, as the commercials would indicate, heaven sent. I had both a strawberry limeade AND a pineapple milkshake and believe I am all the better for it.

It really has been a perfect few days.. despite some sunburns, despite some invading work matters, this was probably the best thing I could have done for myself this year. I remember how fearful I was of this trip even just a couple of weeks ago, wondering if the stress of everything that would accumulate at work was worth taking the time. As you would have told me at the time, of course it was worth it. I just hope, from this point forward, that I can talk myself into it every year. The one thing I will try my best to do, however, is to learn from Wilmington's philosophy that most stores do, in fact, still close at 5 pm. A point of frustration at first, I finally realize the city continues to look after its own and I, too, need to look after myself and remember that there's really nothing wrong with a 5 pm closing time. Nothing at all.

Oh, and I look way hotter with a tan. That alone is reason enough to take a few days at the beach.

On a banner day..

I wrapped up a fantastic conference today. I've learned some great concepts and have opened my mind to a completely different philosophy of how my work can be done. I also won an extra t-shirt in our t-shirt exchange and earned a participant award for my ability to mystery shop and size up a major competitor, a signed copy of a book I've been dying to read. I also ended the night with a trip to a great Chicago restaurant followed by a wine and cheese flight at the bistro next door. Oh, and I got to speak French! There was a slightly confused French couple in the elevator with me as I headed back to my room after the "flights". What is it about having a couple of drinks that suddenly makes me fluent? I can't figure out how to say "shirt" when randomly asked sober, but enter in half a glass of wine and I'm suddenly Gerard DePardieu.

Finally, at today's workshops I saw some fantastic videos, all relevant to my work in very different ways, and all available on YouTube. Enjoy!

On the SkyMall of America

Greetings from Chicago, where the WGN channel is actually relevant! I'm fresh off of my cheesesteak room service dinner, only slightly irritated by the fact that I got through a mere twelve questions on the World Series of Pop Culture Triviadome, and listening to the thunder and lightening that has deprived my fancy hotel of its cable. Yes, thunderstorms have rolled in, allowing me an excuse to coop myself up in my hotel instead of exploring the city. I assure you the storm was far scarier as I watched lightening bolts fall from the sky on my seat in the plane. Anyway, I'm in town for a conference that, if the teaser schedule has any sort of accuracy, indicates we'll be doing ample city time, so I don't feel all that bad hanging in. Plus, I had to play Triviadome. Duh!

So, other than wishing a certain someone was here with me (RIP Harry Caray), I'm mourning the reality that one of the best things about flying has now gone mainstream. That's right. This isn't your father's SkyMall catalog. Gulp. It's got a website! Is it just me, or is this TOTAL BS?

The beauty of SkyMall was in its novelty and how you could really only access the catalog and take in its entertainment while on your way to your next business trip or canoodling with your travel partner. And what better icebreaker is there for that cute stranger to your left than, "Did you know they even made ottomans that could turn into guest beds?!" (They do, btw. It's on page. 161.)

Before: After:

Here are some other favorites:

The Finger Drum Mousepad:
For when Mom told you you'd never be the next Don Henley, and she was right.

The Runaway Alarm Clock:
That's right! Hit the snooze button and it hits the road! Even works on carpet, forcing you to get out of bed, or kill the person sleeping next to you in frustration, when you can't find it to silence its obnoxious call. For the lazy ass mo fo in all of us.

The Keep Your Distance Bug Vacuum:
I'm actually not making fun of this one. I want it and my birthday is coming up. See prior posts re: roaches in office.

Children's ATM Bank (yes, as in modern day piggy bank):
Because screw you, Basic Math.

And, finally, for when P.Diddy is cruising the SkyMall...

Berline Cadillac Escalade Golf Cart:

For a cool $14K, it can be yours! Best of all, SkyMall uses BillMeLater, allowing you to take this puppy home for just $10/month, as advertised. That means in 116 short years, it's yours to keep!

Bet your dumb kid with their ATM piggy bank couldn't have figured that out.

On the high price of cheap gas...

One of the big perks about my new dwelling is that, on my commute, I have two dueling gas stations, right next door to each other, who typically offer the cheapest gas in the area. Both the Liberty and the Hess showed $2.89/gallon this morning. You really can't beat that. As I drove home last night and looked over at the competitors to my left, I wondered why I opted for the Liberty over the Hess every stop so far. I guess it's just because I love liberty, and those stars and stripes on the sign are completely mesmerizing.

So when I pulled in to fill up this morning, it never occurred to me that it would be my last trip to Liberty.

It started off fine. Get out of car, work magic with tricky gas latch, and commence fueling. Hollywood sunglasses on, I took in the world around me, including looking into the store of the gas station, only to find the attendant staring at me. I quickly looked away.

"Good morning!" I looked up to see a man walking slyly toward me, the man who I just caught staring at me through the window.

"Good morning," I returned, in a friendly but reserved manner.

"You are beautiful."

Oh shit.

I'm one of those girls who will complain from time to time that I'm not one to be hit on or to catch anyone glancing my way. Petty, I know, but all women need a confidence boost from time to time. The last time anything like this remotely happened, I was in a bar in Boston with my friend Kelly, circa 2004, and we managed to somehow start a bar fight by talking with two guys about the Pittsburgh airport. Completely bizarre, but it was enough to satisfy my ego for a few years.

"Oh, well, thank you." What I'm NOT is that girl who easily blows off strangers in a rude manner. I also don't think well on my feet, so amidst the interrogation that followed, I was not able to be creative.

"I was just looking out the window and saw how beautiful you are so I wanted to meet you."

"Ah, well, thank you for that compliment."

"How many children do you have?" (Yes, he was from another country)

Here we go.

"None, actually."

"No? Why not? Are you married?"

Here's what stinks. A co-worker and I are going to a conference next week that requires us to go tour a local university today. For fun, and on the off chance that someone recognizes what I do and where I work, I'm going under the identity of his trophy wife. I even wore my fake diamond to complete the look. AND I FORGOT I WAS WEARING IT.

"Nope. Not married."

"How is that possible?"

Insert my awkward laughter.

"Do you have a boyfriend," he continued.

"Yes! Yes I do! Yes!"

"But why are you not married?"

"Just not ready yet." Insert nodding with awkward laughter.

"Do you have a marriage plan?"

A marriage plan? Is that what those binders some of my friends made prior to their wedding are? With the pictures of dresses and cakes and crap? Cuz I'm not doing that.

"Um, do I plan to get married? Yes."

"What is your marriage plan?"

"Really don't have one, just know it will happen when it's right."

"How old are you?"

Oh Jesus Christ.

"28"

"Ah, 28. That is a good age."

For what, I wondered? Marriage? Child bearing? Being tied up in his torture chamber?

"Well, again, thanks for the compliment." (And please get faster gas pumps installed!)

"When will I see you again?"

!!!!!!

"Guess you'll have to keep looking out the window for me."

"Where do you live?"

"Alexandria." I KNOW! LIKE I SAID! I'M NOT GOOD AT THIS!

"So when will I see you?"

"Again, just keep looking out the window." At that point I took the gas nozzle out to replace it on the tank and managed to get gasoline all over my hand. At which point he extended his. Serves him right.

"What's your name?" I TOLD HIM! I KNOW! I'M SUCH A TOOL! But honestly, he can't do much with a first name, and, again, I'm only good at being a royal bitch to those I know and care about.

As I drove away, frantically searching for the lavender lotion in my bag to temporarily mask the smell of gasoline, I tried to figure out if I was flattered or sad for the guy. I had a vision of him just sitting in the gas station, waiting for single women to pull up so he can make his move. He is clearly looking for a wife.

Then again, it may not have been a bar fight, but it's enough to satisfy my ego for another year.

Coffee, check. Kill cockroach, check.

Well, as could be predicted I am bloody exhausted today. Did not get much sleep at all and awoke to my rude alarm deep in the slumber I was finally able to achieve. Sigh. Even my commute coffee hasn't seem to have done the trick.

I forgot to update you on CockroachGate on Tuesday. A very nice gentleman from a local pest control company came in to assess the situation in my office on Tuesday. He's supposed to be back today, but he left what he called "bait", "bait monitors" and traps in my office before he left on Tuesday. I remembered thinking to myself.. "Bait? We have to ATTRACT them to my office? You mean, more than they already are?" So, as I climbed the steps to my office sleepily this morning, I had visions of a roach convention in my office. But, alas, twas not the case. Just another singular roach remained, in the center of my floor, waiting to ask how my 4th was.

Of course, knowing I'm surrounded by roach bait just makes me itch all over. Shudder shudder shudder. Oh, and there are no roaches in the traps. You don't get to be one of the hardiest species on the planet for falling for that trick.

On my mind racing...

Sigh. I can't sleep. I'm afraid I become a bit of an insomniac when left to my own devices. Everyone is out of town and my plans for tonight were thwarted. As such, it's been a whole lot of me, myself and I today. And that's fine. I have no problem with that. So what do I do on such a day? Well, I line up a ton of projects I can tackle, and then I sit on the couch... for hours.

No, I did go out today. But when I go out, I spend money. I can't help it. I bought a dress for a wedding this weekend, didn't really need one but it was on sale, so that was good. But I also went grocery shopping for no good reason. I have plenty of food and I'm going out of town this weekend. So, good plan.

What else do I do with myself in these scenarios? Think. About everything. My mind races and, I fear, makes up stories to stress myself out in order to keep myself occupied. So, my mind has been on overdrive since around 2 pm today and, sans a one hour nap around 4 pm (likely contributing to my insomnia) it's been making things up for me to be upset about as I catch up on DVR. And wow is it working. With all do respect I must ask myself, WTF?!?! Why do I do this to myself? I look at a book currently on my coffee table entitled "An Unquiet Mind"and can't help but relate. We'll talk about the fact that this book tackles a woman with manic depression another time.

So, here I am. Curled up on the couch, watching late night TV reruns and pleading with the sleep fairies to take care of me. The scary thing is that I can sit here and draw everything I'm dealing with back to my own insecurity about work, love and life in general, yet can't find the ability to strangle that insecurity once and for all.

Probably didn't help that I tried on my bathing suits today in preparation for my upcoming vacation. Yep. That was dumb. Not to mention the fact that I'm uncertain how I am supposed to relax when Michael Jackson is house hunting in Maryland, a state about 1 mile away from me at this very minute. When you figure it out, let me know.

World Series of Pop Culture

My guy was good enough to DVR the reruns of last year's World Series of Pop Culture episodes. They're gearing up for the new season and I CANNOT wait.

I will try out for next year. I will. Do NOT let me talk myself out of it. It's on you now.

On being a "southerner"

On the way home from work yesterday I noticed a bumper sticker that made me want to rip my irises out.. yes, the ones in my eyes. Because I've never believed in suffering alone, I thought I'd share it with you to gauge your reaction.

"As a former fetus, I oppose abortion."

Even if you do oppose abortion, what kind of jackass uses this argument? Honestly. I thought I'd think of some of my own that followed this logic to try to make my point.

As a former student, I oppose homework.
As a former grocery store cashier, I oppose double coupon day.
As a former online dater, I oppose the Internet.

OK, so maybe these don't quite follow. I still think it's a dumb bumper sticker. Furthermore, the car two ahead of that one had a "Real Men Love Jesus" bumper sticker. I'm not really opposed to that, but I'm wondering if there was a right wing convention in town that I didn't know about. Or, I just live in Virginia.

On still having faith in NBC...

When Katie Couric left The Today Show, I took grand issue with NBC's decision not to promote one of their competent and fantastic in-house ladies to the top spot. Campbell Brown, Natalie Morales, Ann Curry.. the list goes on. But, like a cold corporate heel, NBC went outside la famiglia and hired Meredith Viera. I have no issue with Meredith and I think she does a fine job, unlike some friends I know, and one in particular who thinks she is the human incarnation of Satan, but I'm just sad they would turn their back on the talent they've worked so hard to nurture over the years.

My point is, however, that I have to give mad props to NBC and The Today Show for the talent they've been grooming in the post 9 am hour. At first I thought Tiki Barber an odd pick, but he really worked out. Then Giada DeLaurentis, a personal hero, went from "go-2-girl" for on air cooking to an occasional lifestyle (no not the condom) correspondent. She did great! But, today, I am supremely proud of my longtime morning buddies for turning to What Not to Wear female extraordinaire Stacy London!
Stacy London, for those of who foolish enough not to know her, is FABULOUS. That's really all you need to know but I'll elaborate for the sake of good writing. Stacy, along with Clinton Kelly (also fabulous and I want him to be my gay boyfriend - every girl needs one) hosts What Not to Wear on TLC. She is unforgiving, she is hysterical and, let's face it, always looks spectacular - but in a real girl kind of way. Anyway, she's definitely plugging some spark into the later hours of this morning standby, and I hope this means we'll simply see more and more of her in the coming years. Keeping her to the constraints of a show on TLC simply doesn't do the girl justice. In fact, I'm all for Clinton and Stacy replacing Matt and Meredith full stop and adding some two snaps and a twist flavor to the most watched morning program in America. This, however, suffices for a good start. Well done Peacock channel!

Oh, and by the way, Happy 4th of July!

Does my Blackberry work in North Carolina?

Last night I booked my hotel for my summer vacation. It's done. I'm going. All with 2 1/2 weeks to spare before my vacation time actually arrived. Ok, so I cut it close. It's been an expensive month, however, with the move and the car and the Botox injections, so I just didn't want to commit to anything that would have me sitting on the beach, sure, but eating Pop Tarts because I couldn't afford food.

So now I really don't know what to do with myself. I haven't taken a vacation, a REAL vacation, since 2002. Sorry, but I can't bring myself to count trips home or trips to others' family homes or trips to locales for family get-togethers as vacations. Perhaps that makes me heartless but I'll take the heat. A vacation means no obligations and an agenda only if by choice because it helps you sleep at night.

Even extensive time off.. again, since 2002 probably. I've just always had trouble with the notion of taking time off for the sake of taking time off. If I didn't have plans, if I wasn't going anywhere, what was the point? Of course, I'm completely hypocritical about this, as I'm a huge advocate of it with my own staff, but for them, not for me. Problem is, especially as the years have passed, digging out from time off almost makes taking the time not worth it. I'm easily overwhelmed so, when faced with an overflowing Inbox and voicemail box, I become stressed out and irritable. I don't like being stressed out and irritable. So, yeah, just avoiding taking time is usually a better option for me. Stupid, I'm aware.

So my guy and I will be trudging down to Wilmington, NC to hang out at Wrightsville Beach and take in the Cape Fear coastline. Sadly, we won't be staying on the beach, but we'll be within spitting distance (well, car spitting distance) and at a decent split between downtown and the beach area itself. 4 nights bookended by weekends for planning and recovery. It's almost perfect, really. Of course, since I plan to spend the majority of these four days in a bathing suit, I wish I'd been a bit more diet conscious than I've been as of late, but what can you do.

So now, the real question.. to bring the Blackberry or ditch it. I'm sure this seems an absurd question to you, one with an obvious answer, that being DITCH THE STUPID THING. But, you know me (or maybe you don't), I hate to be "irresponsible" and let people down. My boss brought hers on her Alaskan cruise last year, only to realize it didn't work on the open sea. (Anyone else working a vision of Captain Ahab with a Sidekick right now?) And I know for a fact she brought it with her to the airport as she left for her cruise to Cozumel this year. So, I'm just unclear on the expectation. I could always ask, but then I'll be given the polite answer "Don't be silly!" when inside they're really saying "Why do you think we pay you the medium bucks?!? BRING IT AND CHECK IT!"

I really am going to try not to bring it. They have my personal cell, and I know for a fact they know how to use it even when the calendar says I'm on vacation. I just hope hope hope that I can forget about what's piling up and truly let go for a few days.

Because work isn't hard enough..

It's hard to come back to work after a great weekend. Hell, it's hard to come back to work after a lousy weekend. But I struggle with those Monday morning wake up calls and the need to really pull my act together. At least this is a short, albeit randomly constructed week. Off for the 4th of July on Wednesday and off on Friday to head to Michigan for a wedding. Three days isn't so bad. Right? Well, I do need to get my act together in these next few days considering I have three new staff starting on Monday. Wow. I could have sworn I had at least a month to prepare for that. Oh right, I did, I just didn't use it. Bygones..

So, like I said, it's hard dragging yourself into work. I must say, however, it's even harder to drag yourself into work when you can count on having cockroaches in your office. Big, fat nasty cockroaches. I saw the biggest one of my life a couple of weeks ago, as it leisurely positioned itself on the Trinidad and Tobago bandana I use as a wall decoration. "Is that a cockroach?" My colleague innocently asked in the middle of our pow wow. "Why, yes, it is," I replied, "and I'll just be getting closer to you now. Don't call HR." It was huge and scared the crap out of my tough guy staffer. I had to rely on the vegetarian in my office for any attempt at disposal (he insisted it be humane.)

So, anyway, we've got a roach problem here. And not tiny roaches. Whatever, I can deal with those. These ones are bigguns and their markings resemble some sort of native art from a colony lost long ago. Anyway, I opened my door to be greeted by another this morning, just hanging out on the floor, waiting to ask how my weekend was. I didn't focus so much on the humane removal this time around, as I needed to get that mother f*#&@$ roach off my mother f*#&@$ floor. Thank God for the shoe collection I keep under my desk.

Anyway, it just doesn't seem right that I have to deal with this. I work for a school that costs a whole lot of cash to attend. So much so that you'd think we could be assigned our own pest control guys. Like, individual. Mine would be named Skull and he'd have a shaved head and markings for every roach he'd ever taken away.

How's that for a Monday morning fantasy?