Daylight Savings Time

You'd think since I've lived in states that participate in Daylight Savings Time for 11 of the last 12 years, I wouldn't still get all confused by it. I still do. Not so much confused as when I woke up this morning at what I thought was 7:10 and came out into the living room and the clock on the cable box said 6:10 I had a good 5 min of trying to figure out what was going on. (Of course since either way that is EARLY that's part of the problem). Of course, at least I'm not in Indiana anymore. The longest 8 months of my life. And the quirkiest thing... Daylight Savings Time by county. COUNTY! Who thought THAT was a brilliant idea? So not only is it daylight savings time in the next county over, but less than an hour away was the next timezone. It was altogether too confusing for me. I could never remember if I was in the "fast time" county or the "slow time" county.

procrastination

If it is the NOVEMBER issue of O, The Oprah Magazine, then it shouldn't have a contest entry deadline of 10/28. And wtf is up with the fashion section being all about wearing turquoise jewelry? Is Oprah a fucking hippie now? And really, do they have to put TEN THOUSAND reply cards and perfume things and thick advertising sections in the magazine so that you can't even flip through it? And why can't they put page numbers on the cover next to the headlines? I have flipped through that whole thing (haltingly due to aforementioned reply cards) and still have not found the Christmas dinner recipe.

Speaking of Christmas dinner, my mother-in-law is going to be here in two months and (a) I don't know what I will be cooking on Christmas Eve since at first I wanted to make this fancy Martha Stewart salmon thing but my stepdad doesn't like Salmon, and (b) why are there still a shitload of boxes in the guest room? She has to sleep in here. Seriously, that man cannot follow directions sometimes. Maybe while she is here, she will hem the curtains for the window above the bed. They are like three feet too long.

I am so not working on my screenplay right now like I am supposed to be doing. I have to send it to my critique group tonight. I want to get at least ten pages done today. I wrote six pages before noon, but then I went to meet two girlfriends that I have known since high school for lunch. One didn't show and she was the one I wanted to talk to the most. I like the other one, but I have seen her twice in the last month. The no-show I haven't seen in about ten months, since the last time we all got together for lunch and she announced that her husband had been cheating on her. We called her to see where she was and she said she had completely forgotten and that she and her husband were celebrating their anniversary today. Maybe the therapy is working. If that had been me, I wouldn't have confronted my husband with his inappropriate text messages, I would have served him with divorce papers, but I don't have two small children so I can't judge.

Anyway, I REALLY need to get to work on this script. Really.

"crap" is not a word

At least not according to the spellchecker in Final Draft. I had to add it to the dictionary.

Holy Christ in a Poncho

Appalling! Horrifying! On my way home from work last night, I saw a man in a poncho. He was driving a Jeep. It was a pretty, tan poncho that looked like it was made out something soft like flannel or cashmere. My first thought was, Oh no, a manly poncho! Then I took another look at the guy and realized he was probably dressed as Jesus for Halloween. I couldn't see his feet to check for rope sandals, but he had the long hair and beard thing down pretty well.

What the hell?

My car wouldn't start this morning. The battery had no juice. So I was thinking, what could have drained the battery. My interior light was on! I don't think that I have turned that on ever. So, either it was turned on by the valet from dinner three nights ago or, as my husband thinks, I forgot to lock the car and some punk kid turned it on so the battery would die. Whatever it was, I was pissed! I had to take my husband's car to work and he took the motorcycle. Nice way to start the day.

Bashed!

Some anonymous coward just bashed me on my own blog!
Read It
Who thinks it was Laura Diaz googling herself? Maybe it was Yoshi.

Clothes peeve

It has long been a peeve of mine to see words on asses. I hate all those sweats/workout pants whatever that have things like "Dance" or "Georgetown" or whatever on them. Today's took the cake. "Juicy." That's just distasteful. (hee)

Here I go again...

I am applying for graduate programs for next year. I would really like to quit working and go back to school full time for a couple years, but right now I can't imagine how we could afford something like that. We just bought an expensive house. I can't seem to get spending under control. And on, and on, and on.

I think the money worry has been making me slack off about getting the things done that I need to get done to apply. I took a GRE study course in March and I only just this morning scheduled a date to take the test. I checked out the deadlines of the three schools I was planning to apply to and discoverd that UCLA is out now because I waited so long to take the test. So, I added two New York schools just for the hell of it.

I spent the last half hour checking all the admission requirements. (No, I was working. Seriously.) Who knew that film school was just as expensive as medical school? Christ.

USC = $56k for 2 years
AFI = $105k for 2 years
NYU = $122k for 3 years
Columbia = $72k for 2 years

I am going to have to sell drugs or something just to pay for tuition.

Nice!

I found $35 floating around in the bottom of my purse this morning.

Early morning peeves...

How is it that I have streamlined my morning as much as possible, yet I still leave the house at the same time I did when I used to do everything in the morning? I now make my lunch and pack my backpack at night so hypothetically all I have to do in the morning is go to the bathroom, brush my teeth and get dressed. How does this still take 30 min? I don't get it.

There is a new girl at the gym. On my favorite elliptical trainer! >:@ There are only 4 that are working right now. Working out on 3 of those 4 is like running in sand or mud. They suck. The other one is nice and smooth and works just fine. That's the one new girl uses. I have to get there earlier than new girl. You know, or push her over since she is skinny. I'm pretty sure I could take her.

I think I WAS an peeve this morning. I tend to meander early in the morning (who am I kidding I meander most of the time). (Does meander mean what I think it does?). Anyway, I was walking across a parking lot and this bigass pick up truck pulls into the parking lot, right into my path of walking. I had to do kind of this weird dodge but I think I ended up where he/she wanted to be. Person was probably thinking... damn old lady get the fuck out of my way so I can buy me some gas!

Sigh... why do I have to work again?

We are now entering the busiest time for a benefits professional. Open enrollment. The most customer service oriented time of my calendar year. It mostly reaffirms my hatred of people. People don't read. People don't pay attention. People call me for stupid reasons. Thus far... I had to have an inane discussion about the basic life insurance plan we offer. (Let me clarify as though you care, for a full time employee, we cover medical, dental, vision, basic life and basic AD&D at no cost to the employee). One of today's phone calls... "About the basic life plan. We have to take it? These don't seem like good rates." "Sir it is the group rates, they are what they are." "Well, I'm only getting max of 50,000 life insurance for 9.00 a month, I have several hundred thousand blahblahblah." "Well sir, these are the rates we have negotiated. You don't actually pay for any of this, it is part of the basic package that we cover." (Which is spelled out for him on his confirmation statement) "Oh, well, okay then." One other, just for fun. New employee: "I don't understand why do I have an enrollment form, I've already signed up for benefits?" "Yes, but we are in open enrollment." "But I've already signed up for benefits." "Yes but we are in open enrollment. You could make changes to your benefit plan at this time." "Oh, well why doesn't it say that." (Not said): It does dumbass if you would READ the pamphlet we've provided you. Oooh... one final call of today... another new employee about tuition remission. (We pay tuition at SU for 6 credits per quarter max 20 credits per year). New employee: "You know we get taxed on this benefit right? It really should say something in the paperwork. It isn't really a benefit if we're getting taxed on it. This is a big deal...." and on and on and on... All I could keep saying was, yes. I'll make a note to put that in the info packet. She doesn't want to be too much trouble, but we should really tell people. We had to go over this like 3 times. I called payroll to ask how this worked, and discovered it was only for graduate classes. It was only if the tuition we pay is over 5200/year and whatever is beyond that is added into your taxable income so it isn't a HUGE deal, maybe a couple thousand bucks (added as income not paid in taxes). Considering we're talking about an essentially free graduate degree... Give me a break! And it is just going to get worse.

I just saw the most horrifying commercial on MTV. Any vague notions I had about piercing my eyebrow have gone completely out the window. It showed all the giantass piercing needles going through the skin in the various places. It was HORRIFYING.

Hot Damn

I went to get a facial this weekend at a moderately fancy day spa. When I left the spa, I was heading down the escalator to valet parking. On the way up the escalator was a tall blond man, reasonably attractive, in a spa uniform. I thought that maybe when I went back for a massage, I would request a male masseuse.

As I continued on down the escalator, another man in a spa uniform was headed up. This one was even more attractive. Dark hair, well muscled, slightly tattooed. I thought, ok, I am really going to have to call and ask what services the tattooed guy provides and hope that he isn't just a locker room attendant.

Then, right behind tattooed guy was the hottest guy I have ever seen in real life (even counting my Brad Pitt sighting). He literally took my breath away and made my pulse race. Unfortunately, he does not work at the spa. He was dressed in work out gear and probably heading to the gym next door. Damn that man was hot. HOT. I am getting a little hot just thinking about it.

Repeat Peeve

I think this is a repeat of a peeve I've griped about once before, but it bears repeating. I hate businesses that do not post their hours on their business fronts. Is it that hard to put a little sign that lists them? And not just on ONE door, but ALL the doors. This gripe actually applies to the fancy new library where on the 5th avenue enterance I could not find their hours.

Older, Wiser and with Better Hair

A blogger regular recently posted a pic of herself on her blog, that looked like a high school senior picture, so I was searching around on my old web site to see if I had a funny picture of me online that I could post.

I came across a picture of me from the night of my senior prom. I totally look like Amy Fisher, Long Island Lolita. And, yes, it does appear that I have two prom dates. Slut.



For comparison:


And as a bonus, here is the story of my senior prom:

The guy on the right was my date, Brian. The more attractive guy on the left, Dan, was the date of my friend, Missy, who we were going to pick up next. Everyone was "going as friends." I had just broken up with my boyfriend and had already bought all the prom stuff. Brian worked with me at Subway and was also a senior, but at the other high school in town. Since he wasn't going to his prom, he said he'd go with me to mine. Dan and Missy had never dated and were good friends.

We did all the regular prom stuff: went to dinner, went to the dance, went to a drunken hotel party after. At the party, Dan was totally hitting on me. I was quite flattered. Missy must have had her man-poacher radar set to super sensitive, because she quickly joined us on the balcony and stood between me and Dan. I was a little miffed because we had all gone as friends, right? I had no romantic interest in Brian, but Dan had real boyfriend potential.

We changed clothes and left the party soon after to walk along the beach nearby. We stopped and sat on some rocks for awhile, just chatting (Dan still mildly flirting with me) and enjoying the buzz from the booze. Dan and Missy saw a gas station a couple blocks away and went for some sodas.

Brian started to get his groove on, but kept chickening out when it came time to kiss me, which was probably due to the mixed signals I was sending. Making out is fun, but I had kind of been hoping to snag the other guy. Brian finally asked, "Michelle, would it be ok if I kissed you?" Which I thought was the cutest thing ever, so I said yes.

Of course, Missy and Dan were on their way back with the sodas and saw us kissing. We went back to the hotel party where Brian and I made out under a blanket for ages. Dan and Missy twiddled their thumbs in a corner or something. When the sun came up, we picked up some Egg McMuffins and headed home.

Epilogue

Brian and I were bickering one night at Subway when we were closing and he said something rude to me to which I replied, "Whatever, at least I don't kiss like a puppy." About a month later, he went with me to a party but we never went inside. We made out in his car in the parking lot instead. He had wanted to prove to me that he had learned his lesson and didn't kiss like a puppy anymore.

I later dated a friend of his and found out that the two of them discussed what nice boobs I had.

Dan never showed interest in me again.

Dan and Missy later dated in college.

I finally gave my prom dress to Goodwill last year, the same year that Missy married a man she met at church.

Wait! There's more!

This picture was taken in Vegas, five years ago at my 25th birthday party. Missy is the one on the far right and I am the one in the blue camo shirt.

Frustration Explosion

Rain, rain, go away
Come again some other day
Like on the weekend
When you won't cause my 16-mile commute
To take an hour and 20 minutes to drive

Spare Some Change?

Okay, since Joanne is going to hell for her Pink Ribbons post, she'll need some company and I'm happy to wait in line with her.

I actually started writing this post a few days ago and then my supreme worry about that fucker Murphy and his goddamn stupid laws got the better of me. I'll probably end up dying a slow and miserable death for this one, but oh well.

To everybody who has asked or is thinking of asking me to donate money for their walk/run/swim/bike/climb for (insert charity name here), please stop it. I appreciate that you're helping out, but don't be offended when I don't want to donate to your cause. I'm happy that you're trying to raise awareness by sweating your ass off but if I donated money to everyone who asked me, I'd be working solely for several non-profits and George W's defense program.

Last week, a "friend" who hasn't bothered to email me in over six months decided that I was worthy enough to be on her distro list for some exercise-related fundraise that her husband was doing. She didn't even tell me that she had gotten married! Unsubscribe me, pretty please.

I wonder what colour flip flops I should pack for my trip to Satanville.

Pink Ribbons

Timmy, if he sees this, will probably post some terrible rude comment about how I should lob my own boobies off in penance but eh, I ain't scared of him... So here goes:

I am so sick of the pink ribbons on practically every ad on TV and websites right now. I can understand that this month is breast cancer awareness month and that with early detection, you don't necessarily have to die from it. But seriously... who is the foundation blowing that everybody and their brother is jumping on the "Buy our product this month and we'll donate a portion to the foundation" bandwagon. How come we don't get inundated with blue ribbons and licking lids for blue ribbons and join the blue ribbon foundation in support of testicular cancer research. Or dried blood brown ribbons for Leukemia & Lymphoma society... The red ribbon having already been coopted by everybody. Baby poo brown ribbons for the ulceritive colitis group and/or the intestinal cancers. AND for that matter, and for a condition much closer to my heart (strangely closer than my own boobies?) October is Celiac Awareness month. Did anyone know that? How come we don't get wheat gold ribbons for that (Or wheat gold ribbons with a big circle with a line through it)? I will support the charities I support. I am glad that companies are supporting charities and being vocal about it. I don't even mind that it really is just a marketing ploy to increase sales in toasters (or whatever) since ultimately that is 5% or 7% or 10% or 2% more than they may have gotten. But there are a lot of conditions out there that desperately need money too. And it would be nice if once in a while the big merchandising world would recognize this.

Ponchoriffic

Remember my post from last week wherein I said that I had finally caved and joined in the poncho craze? Well, Amanda Fortini thinks I made the wrong choice. Read her article titled "Is That a Real Poncho? The hideous new trend afflicting America."

Work grumble

I have several today...

1 - Now that my boss has returned. I'm back out of the loop again. I hate that. This shit affects me too. And while she was gone I got to participate and help make decisions. I'm not 9... (although I am whining like I am. :) )

2 - We are shorthanded since one of my coworkers left. She and Ruth sat down at the front office and although mostly Ruth was the receptionist/front desk person, Jess filled in for lunches and meetings and the like. Now that Jess is gone, and Ruth is moving up we're interviewing for a new front desk person, but until that person gets hired, yours truly has to be front desk person for lunches & meetings and crap. I hate sitting down there... AND you would think since they KNOW we are short handed they could cut the meeting that Ruth has to go to, nope... still in existence.

3 - Because we are short handed and my boss only works 1/2 time, I can't go to this training I wanted to go to in October. Ok Ok I'm whining and really MY life hasn't been inconvenienced THAT much... I'm just crabby I suppose.

More Things People Shouldn't Do

If you are getting married in four days, you should not keep poking at the place on your face where you think a big zit is coming in.

If you are walking by my office and I can smell your perfume, you should not put on so much next time.

If you are ugly, you should not be flirty. It makes me embarrassed for you. And I don't mean those of us who aren't winning any beauty contests anytime soon, I mean the fugly chick in the elevator who was being flirty with a hot guy.

Pancho Villa

You might have noticed the trend in women's fashions that includes a lovely throwback from the '70s: the poncho. At first I was not a big fan of the poncho because, seriously, this poncho is fugly and don't even get me started on this one. But I was shopping last week and decided to give ponchos a chance. Turns out ponchos are a fat chick's dream come true. They cover things nicely. I bought three of them.

Still, I wasn't sure this was a fashion trend that I wanted to buy into. The ponchos hung in the closet, begging not to be returned to the store. Until today. I finally caved and am right now wearing a black knit poncho with fringe. It is similar to this one, but not as fringey. The other two ponchos look like fancy silk scarves (sort of like these, but nicer) and they are going back to the store, but I may buy another knit poncho. I can't help it. I like the poncho. It is warm and comfortable without being frumpy.

I fucking hate fucking car alarms!

Let's face it. They are not useful anymore. 9 times out of 10 they are going off not because some burgler is breaking into your car but because it is raining hard (which happens believe me) or because someone walked too close to your car or because some idiot forgot and pressed the wrong button.

If you live in rural areas, you have a car alarm... it is a bluetick hound named something like Patsy. It howls when little Bubba Jr. comes into the yard to 'borrow' the truck (the truck being an 87 Ford) to go play chicken on the highway between Stumpy and Stumpyville.

If you live in Suburbia, you park your shiny Lexus in a garage. If you had to park in the driveway (horrors!) and your car alarm goes off, well Spencer or Hugh goes heading outside in his boxers armed with a baseball bat as if that is going to help him against a would be car thief. If you're at the mall... well it isn't like you're going to hear the car alarm going off when you're in Macy's. And for that matter there are ALWAYS car alarms going off in the mall. Everyone ignores them. It is like the terrorist warning levels that keep coming out of Washington. You have a vague sense that you should care, but you don't really.

Finally, us urban dwellers who are the ones I am particularly rageful against. We live in tall buildings. At 1:30 in the morning by the time the noise reaches your fuzzy sleep addled brain, you have to realize multiple things... 1 - yes it is going off. 2 - Yes it is YOUR car... and 3 - Get your ass in clothes and downstairs to figure out what's up. And let's face it, by the time you get to 3 either your car is gone (no such luck this morning at 1:30) or the crap that was in your car which was the real reason for the break in is gone and you'll never get that shit back (most likely, at least in this area). In any event, the going off for 15 min at 1:30 this morning (accompanied with bigdogbark!) then blessed silence for about 15 min. Then another 15 min of that wailing noise. I was ready to kill someone because even with all the windows shut, earplugs in and a pillow over my head I could hear it. Bastards. Just get lojack or some kind of gps tracking onstar bullshit and cope.

Other Dogs

We took the dogs to the dog park for the first time tonight. We made a lap around the park with the dogs on their leashes so that they could get used to the place. The girl dog was able to get off her leash and run around, but the boy dog was too snarly with other dogs who approached so he had to stay. Poor boy dog. Maybe next time.

Dogs

New apartment manager has a dog. A big dog. Big dog barks whenever Joanne enters or leaves her apartment. Baxter does NOT like big dog barking. We went out for a walk yesterday evening to return a video and as I was holding Bax and locking the door big dog barked a lot and Baxter raced up my chest and into my hood where she hid. Poor Baxter. People in small apartments should not have big dogs. Apartment managers should not have dogs that bark.

"You piss me off!"*

Damn Blogger! This is such an unreliable application.

* Said with a Spanish accent, from Attack of the 5'2" Women, a movie I highly recommend.

This is Addictive

I found this on Jay Mohr's site. Don't even ask what I was doing there in the first place.

Go to The Oracle of Bacon and you can get the degrees of separation from any actor to another. Everyone I tried is two degrees away from Jay Mohr due to his appearance in S1m0ne.

Instant Karma

I had just stepped out of the food court on my way back to my office and I saw this guy drop his change. He did this totally weird side lunge sort of thing instead of just bending over to pick it up. I was laughing at him on the inside. Then, my fork jumped out of my hand of its own will and I had to do this weird butt sticking out thing to keep the door from shutting on me while I picked up my fork. Who was laughing at whom, I ask you? Who? Or, whom?

darn

The full length mirror in the bathroom here at work is not as nice as the one at home. The work mirror tells me that the sweater I am wearing doesn't go well with my new jeans. Who knew? A black sweater and jeans, I didn't think I could go too wrong with it.

Stab My Eye Out

I perfected this technique in college wherein I would apply pressure with the end of my pen to the inner corner of my eye. It would alleviate the tedium of class by reminding me that stabbing my eye out would be more painful than the boring class I was currently sitting through.

This technique has served me well beyond college. In grad school when I had to sit through boring lectures in Primate Physiology, my pen was often in my eye. Once I joined the work force, my pen could be seen in my eye during excruciatingly long meetings.

Last night, I took my pen out of my eye, uncapped it and went on a killing spree in my Introduction to Screenwriting II class at UCLA. The first victim was the frat boy seated in the row in front of me who thought he was a comic genius and had something to say about everything. I left my blue Paper Mate fine point sticking out of the side of his neck and vaulted over the table to get to the instructor. I snatched her purple Pentel off of the table and knocked her to the floor.

"This is for the two hours you stole from me!" Stab. "This is for making me listen to the history of your name: Elizabeth to Lizzie to Liz to Lizbeth to Lisa and back to Lizzie, but we can still call you Elizabeth if we want." Stab. "This is for making me introduce myself to the rest of the class by telling them my birth order and my astrological sign." Stab. "This is for dragging out the introductions of ten people for 90 minutes by asking ridiculous, tangential questions." Stab. Stab. Stab.

My classmates stealthily hid their pens, not wanting to make any sudden moves that would draw my attention. There was no need; I was done. The pain relieved.

This morning, I switched to the online version of Introduction to Screenwriting II.

Local Semi-Celebrity Sighting

The husband and I were having dinner at Yoshi's Shabu Shabu in Sherman Oaks on Saturday night and I noticed a hispanic lady who I thought would have looked prettier without the lip collagen and nose job. I didn't think anything more of it until I saw a gaggle of Japanese girls pointing to a head shot on the wall of fame behind them. It was a signed photo of Laura Diaz from the local CBS news. It was the first time I had ever seen someone actually patronizing a business that displayed her head shot.

Saturday's peeves

1 - Dial-up can't seem to hold a connection tonight. I'm getting kind of tired for paying for services that don't seem to want to work correctly. And yes I could get DSL but it is still too pricey. Fancy cable makes me happier. :D
2 - My arm still hurts from falling down the stairs and seems more sore today than yesterday. (Probably because I used it more today than I usually do at work)
3 - The road I take to take Baxter to the vet's office was closed today. I had to take all these back routes and I wasn't actually 100% sure where I was going. It only took me an hour to get there (usally 20 min tops). Luckily I found the detour route home and managed to get back on time.
4 - Widescreen edition of movies and the fact that Blockbuster never carries the full screen version anymore. Cut off 1.5 in on both sides... can't be THAT important. Video purists be damned.

Catsup or Ketchup?

I had a random thought, "Why isn't ketchup just called tomato sauce?" so I thought I would have to do some looking around on the internet for an hour or so to track down the answer. I typed "origin of ketchup" into Google and this article was the first one on the list. Mystery solved.