Today's Boo-tastic

"Eat, drink and be scary." ~ Author Unknown

Happy Pumpkin Day, everyone! It's been a long week, and I'm soo glad to finally be getting rid of all this Halloween candy. My belly seriously cannot hold anymore sugar. We carved pumpkins the other night, and they're sitting on our porch waiting to get smashed by hoodlums.

To celebrate Halloween -- and because I'm lazy -- I thought I would do a quick list of things that spook me or give me the creepy jeepies. First, though, I'd like to thank you guys for re-assuring me that I wasn't being completely dumb in regards to my last post. I'm over it but will let it serve as a good reminder that I should probably never write anything that I wouldn't attach my name to at some point in the future. Besides, J has the attention span of a goldfish and has already forgotten about my blog.

Anyhoo, on to the list of things that spook me / give me the creeps:

• Hairy spiders
• Clowns
• Eels and gar
• Indian music played at high volume
• Darkness
• Kevin Bacon
• Moths
• Graveyards, any time of day
• Aliens
• Ghost Hunters
• Roaches
• Scorpions

I shared mine -- now what spooks you?

My Safe Place ... Ruined?

I was working on a post when J came in the room and leaned over my shoulder to give me a smooch.

"What's that? You bored?" he asked, pointing to the big Escape from Dullsville header.

Damn. "It's my ... uh ... blog," I sheepishly admitted.

"You write a blog? Can I read it?" he pleaded.

"Ummmm, nope," I answered. After his incessant pleading, I read him a few of my posts. J gushed and thought the world of them before heading upstairs to watch Saturday Night Live.

Now I sit here, totally regretting sharing my blog with him. Not that I really care -- I actually enjoyed hearing him laugh at a few of my stories -- but I just don't want him finding it on the Web on his own or telling his friends or family about it. What's the point in writing somewhat anonymously if people know where to find you?

One of the reason's I moved to Blogger from MySpace (besides being over the age of 13) was so that I could write about anything and not have to worry about censoring my stories. This has become my "safe place". And you guys know, it's not like I ever write anything detrimental or completely inappropriate -- but I would like the option.

I had a post I realllly wanted to share tonight as it's not something I have the nerve to bring up in front of my close friends or J yet ... and now I'm a little gun shy.

Should I be worried? Should I even care? Am I being dumb about this??

Home Alone

"Love is missing someone whenever you're apart, but somehow feeling warm inside because you're close in heart." ~ Kay Knudsen


This morning J left for a work trip to Arkansas and won't be back until Thursday. I'm always kind of bummed when he leaves ... and this is the first time he's left me in the new house alone. Not that I'm a big weenie (read: I am a HUGE weenie), but I'm starting to regret watching all of those Ghost Hunters episodes. Every time J's out of town, I end up sleeping on the couch with all of the lights on, the television blaring, my hockey stick within arm's length and my phone in my hand ... just incase.

I also have a problem properly feeding myself when J is gone. When I got home, I gorged on German chocolate cake and tortilla chips while watching Biggest Loser. Talk about a guilt trip. What's sad is that, as I was wiping cake crumbs off my face in the kitchen, I thought the stove was going to get me. I swear the digital panel was glaring "BOO" at me. After a minor stroke, I realized it was actually the clock showing 8:00. Get a grip, woman!

I decided my pjs would make me feel better. As I pulled on some cotton sweats and a Dallas Cowboys hoodie, I noticed something on my pillow. It was a sweet note from J and a little flashlight that he had left for me, just in case I got scared tonight. If only he knew how much that small gesture comforted me.

It's amazing how it's always the small things that truly make marriage work and nights apart less daunting.

Hangovers and Smile Awards

"Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might be the only sunshine he sees all day." ~ Quoted in P.S. I Love You, compiled by H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Whew! It's Sunday afternoon and I can finally come up for air. J's having lunch* with friends, so I'm enjoying the peace and quiet around the house ... and some chocolate cake.

Good news is that I get to keep my job (high five!) so we celebrated with enormous amounts of alcohol during our "housewarming" party yesterday. Six cases of beer, three jugs of Jose Cuervo margaritas and three bottles of wine later, my friends and I were all singing around the fire pit on our back porch until two in the morning. I'm sure J and I will get glares from the neighbors for awhile, but screw it -- after my hellish week I needed some alcohol therapy.

It was such a blast having our friends over to our new house, but it's taken until now to recover enough to actually get out of bed without yakking. My liver, on the other hand, will be in recovery for awhile. But the laughter and smiles were well worth it!




Speaking of smiles, the beautiful Mrs. Guru over at Off the Beaten Path presented me with the fabulous Smile Award. THANKS, girl! It was definitely a nice way to start my weekend, and it's such a wonderful feeling to know that someone delights in my rambles. And, as in any other award, here's the fine print:

Rules of passing the smile award to other fellow bloggers: Must display a cheerful attitude. Must love one another. Must make mistakes. Must learn from others. Must be a positive contributor to blog world. Must love life. Must love kids.

Rules when receiving the award: The recipient must link back to the award’s creator. You must post these rules if you receive the award. You must choose 5 people to receive the award after receiving it yourself. You must post the characteristics of a recipient. You must create a post sharing your win with others and thank the giver!

Okay, so I would like to pass this award on to the following bloggers who I can always count on for a smile or two:

• thelifeofsass: I can "see" a part of myself in Sassy -- her witty blogs and great sense of humor always make me grin.
• Miss Caught Up: If you aren't reading Amanda's awesome blog, then you should be -- it's more addicting than your favorite soap opera!
• The Typing Makes Me Sound Busy: Her descriptions of real-life are hilarious, witty and always entertaining.
• Newlywed Central: I love that Anna shares her world with us, and her sweet nature shines through her writing.
• Morning Runner: Now that I'm training for a marathon, this girl is my running inspiration. I can always find motivation in her stories (and I need all the motivation I can get!).

Thanks again, Mrs. Guru! And thanks again to everyone who takes the time to read my blog :-).



*Does beer count as lunch?

Meeting with the Bobs

I waited around the office yesterday until 5 and never received my Notice. It took several phone calls today to figure out that consultants -- that would be me -- aren't part of the proceedings tomorrow. Something about the company not having legal responsibility over us.

So, my bosses will find out if they still have jobs tomorrow and then find out if they have to let us go. And since every one's banned from the office tomorrow aside from their designated appointments, I'll be keeping my fingers crossed until Friday. It's as if a hurricane is blowing through tomorrow, and we'll be sorting through the wreckage to see who's left to do the work.

I imagine the appointments tomorrow will go a little something like this scene from Office Space. Classic.

A Whiff of Unemployment

"A lot of fellows nowadays have a B.A., M.D., or Ph.D. Unfortunately, they don't have a J.O.B." ~ 'Fats' Domino

This morning I received a "corporate letter" e-mail from the President and CEO of the food & beverage company I work for, announcing a realignment and semi-massive layoff. In an attempt to "streamline our business," the company will potentially be sending nearly 300 packing at my office.

Our building will be closed Thursday and, instead of working, we're all supposed to meet one-on-one with designated managers to find out if we've been canned. We are to receive notices today with explicit instructions on what time our individual appointment is, where to park, and where to vomit as we exit the building. I really hope the mail guy is wearing a jock strap.

I can't believe it really. Sure, the economy majorly sucks right now. But I never thought a Fortune 500 company of this magnitude would ever layoff employees at the company's Headquarters. But who am I kidding? Of course we'd be the first to go. The factory workers and sales team bring in the real money. The "fluff" we do at Headquarters doesn't really count for much. I mean, who needs marketing? Eh, screw product innovation and consumer research. And HR? Or even capability & training -- the team I work for -- who needs that crap, right? (And yes, I'm being totally sarcastic here.)

*sigh* I need to get dressed, stop by the office and pick up my Notice. But, instead, I'm sitting here in my pjs with tear-stained cheeks, trying to delay the inevitable. I suppose I could always wait tables at TGI Fridays, wearing my 30 pieces of flair and striped shirt while singing "Happy Birthday" to gramps.

I wonder what the productivity level will be at the office today with the smell of unemployment lingering in the hallways?

Gas Pump Betrayal

“It's better to have beer in hand than gas in tank” ~ Anonymous

Lucky I awoke in a good mood today, otherwise this morning would have really sucked. I have a job where I normally work from home, but occasionally have to go into the office for meetings. Today was one of those days.

After struggling with my hair for what seemed like an eternity (and finally forcing it back into a stubby ponytail), I dressed and headed for the door, sidestepping kitty's fur ball in the hallway. I step outside and realize that my black tweed pants are actually brown. And I'm wearing a black button up shirt and black heels. Hmph.

I get in the car and the low fuel light glares at me. Damn. It takes 30 minutes to get to the office ... meeting starts at 10 o'clock ... and it's 9:20. I floor it to the gas station. I get out, scan my card, and reach for the gas pump to begin filling my car. Next thing I know gas is spraying everywhere. We're talking Old Faithful style. Not sure if it was a faulty pump, user error or just God's way of getting in a good laugh, but four letter words flew from my mouth as gas drenched my pants, splashed over the side of my car and began to form a pool under my back left tire.

I managed to control the pump enough to get five bucks actually in -- and not on -- my car before gas began to spew out of my tank. What the hell? I give up and return the pump to it's holder. I sadly watch as ten bucks drip off my car while paranoia sets in. Is my car going to catch fire when I start it? Am I going to die? A quick call to J assured me I wasn't going to burst into flames, but he said that I needed to tell the store employees.

I run into the gas station store and wait in line to tell Apu what happened. There's a young guy in front of me digging in his pockets for change. Upon closer inspection, I realize he's wearing pjs, an old bathrobe and slippers, and he's purchasing not one but two 24 oz cans of Natural Lite beer. At 9:30 in the morning.

He finally finds enough change, and I tell Apu about the sea of gas I created outside. I can't understand him and I wonder if he even understands me. He walks off and begins shouting. I can't tell if he's shouting because he's panicked, or shouting because he thinks if he talks louder, I'll understand him. Five minutes later he grunts and points to a man outside. I walk outside and tell Apu #2 what happened.

"Pump 15?" he asks.

"Yes, pump 15," I reply.

He begins to laugh and I'm not sure why. We walk over to the Sea of Gas and he shrugs his shoulders.

"Pump 15 is broken," he says.

"Broken? I didn't see a sign," I reply, frustrated.

"No sign, it's broken," he says. So now what? "Don't worry, I clean up with special powder."

"Fine, so I'm not going to burst into flames?" I seriously ask. He laughs again and shakes his head. What a waste. I get into my car and it's now 9:47. Damn. I floor it down the highway, getting high off the gasoline trapped in my clothes and shoes.

As I near the office, I glance to my left to see a black Oldsmobile barrelling down the wrong side of the road. Holy crap. There's a grassy median separating us, and I wonder if he realizes we're not in England and that he should be on my side of the road. I see him swerve around a couple of cars before losing sight of him at my turn.

By the time I circle the building and find a parking spot half a mile from the door, I'm twenty-eight minutes late for my meeting. Sweating, I sit down as quietly as possible. It wasn't long before someone asks, "Does anyone else smell gasoline?"

Perhaps the smell distracted from my mis-matched outfit. Perhaps I'll get a raise because I look (and smell) like a bum. Regardless, tomorrow I'm staying home in my pjs.