Yes, I've been saving up my crazy emails to share with you.
This one is an example of overly intimate marketing...
Hello Marisa,
I hope you are well.
I have worked hard to make this years Conference of Crazy, to
be held on Some Days in the Some Hotel, Philadelphia as success. I have researched with over 40 top Pharma to ensure the issues are exactly what you’ve asked for. However, I still appreciate you’re feedback If you think I am missing anything out just let me know and I can add a round table on the subject.
Please see the brochure PDF of Crazy
The theme is how to do more with less: analyzing customer centric strategies. I really think you’d appreciate the topics from Some Guy who will show you how to extract maximum value from Patient-Level data to optimize rep face-time. Pharma Ad Guy who will be taking an in depth look in to the near future to analyze the latest trends, so you can plan and impose strategies for long term success.
It’s always interesting to hear case studies, in particular I think Two Guys I've Never Heard Of's presentation on how to build an Incentive Compensation System that is compliant and hits the targets using real examples from Two Big Pharma Companies, will be of great interest.
In addition Minor Pharma Company Exec will be exploring the new selling models Minor Pharma Company is using including Account Management Model to give you take away best practice.
New speakers have been confirmed in the last week, making this one of the largest gathering of Conference Topic experts in North America. The latest speakers to come on board are:
List of Pharma execs
My aim is to produce a conference that adds real value, I think one way to do this is to share knowledge so for a free report on Conference of Crazy visit:
URL of Crazy
I am really keen to show you what we can do so am offering you the opportunity to save $400 if you register by Friday. To register simply visit:URL of Crazy
If you have any questions or queries don’t hesitate to get in touch
Thanks,
Kate
Apparently "Kate" hopes I'm well. Well, "Kate," it's been a while since I've seen you. I'm sure we have a lot of catching up to do. I'm sure you have put a lot of work into setting up this summit - these meetings are a lot of work! I'm really proud of you and appreciate all your efforts.
Just not enough to pay for the privilege.
Look, since we're such good friends and all, can't you just waive the fee?
Just this once? For your old pal Marisa?
If not, I understand. Good luck with the meeting, and let me know how it turns out, ok?
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Outpourings of crazy
One of the trainers at my gym sends out emails a few times a week. I guess they're supposed to be motivational? I don't know. They're usually just outpourings of crazy. At least half of them are collections of stupid diet substitutions that are supposed to help you lose weight, only they're
really detailed lists of things I can't picture anyone ever eating. Let me make one up to illustrate:
Instead of eating a breakfast of two waffles, three pieces of bacon, four hash browns and a large latte, try one egg white with a tablespoon of salsa.
Instead of a large tuna sandwich slathered with mayo on a kaiser roll, a big bag of potato chips, a cup of creamy potato salad and a large soda, hold the roll and enjoy three ounces of tofu with two celery stalks, a teaspoon of brown mustard and a medium apple.
Instead of four slices of pepperoni pizza dripping with grease, served with a large caesar salad with tons of croutons, try a small chicken breast grilled with the juice of one lemon and served with three broccoli florets.
Do this and you will lose ten pounds!!!!
Ok, so my example is slightly more ludicrous than her usual, but you get the general idea. She compares two meals that are completely unalike; uses the phrases "dripping with grease," "hold the roll," and "slathered in mayo;" and closes with some ridiculous outcome and a gratuitous number of exclamation points.
Anyway. When she's not busy sending us crazy nutritional emails, she's sending crazy exercise emails. Friday, we got one about how your brain tells you to stop working out because it has no self-confidence and you should ignore it. (That was especially entertaining because my friend, Linda, had just had a personal training session with this crazy trainer, and she thought the email was directed at her.) Here's this week's crazy email:
Whether you've been loyal to your weekly workout plans or not, this week we've got just the thing to keep you motivated and get you back on track. According to top researchers, varying your cardio routine makes it more effective. And, like always, we're here to help.
First, try the ultimate antiboredom workout. It combines cycling, running, and elliptical with various speeds and intensity.
To get the best results, pay attention to your rate of perceived exertion (RPE), or how hard you're working on a scale of 1 to 10
6 No exertion at all
7 Extremely light
8
9 Very light - (easy walking slowly at a comfortable pace)
10
11 Light
12
13 Somewhat hard (It is quite an effort; you feel tired but can continue)
14
15 Hard (heavy)
16
17 Very hard (very strenuous, and you are very fatigued)
18
19 Extremely hard (You can not continue for long at this pace)
20 Maximal exertion
The rest of the email is a fairly detailed exercise routine. I have no issue with it, especially since she assured us that "this workout will blast 400 calories!!!!!"
Do we all see the problem here? Instead of a scale from one to ten, which is logical if a little simplistic, we have a scale from six to twenty. Never mind truth in advertising...when has anyone ever asked anyone to rate something on a scale from six to twenty?
"So, Lefty, how did you like that movie?"
"Ehh...on a scale of six to twenty, I give it an 8.5."
What happened to numbers one through five? I imagine 1 is "asleep (unconscious)" and three is "sitting." 7, by the way, is "waving to a friend" and 8 is "two snaps in a circle." I especially love how number 15 "hard" is further explained as "heavy." That's just the attention to detail that will help me determine where I fall on the scale between "somewhat hard" and "very hard."
really detailed lists of things I can't picture anyone ever eating. Let me make one up to illustrate:
Instead of eating a breakfast of two waffles, three pieces of bacon, four hash browns and a large latte, try one egg white with a tablespoon of salsa.
Instead of a large tuna sandwich slathered with mayo on a kaiser roll, a big bag of potato chips, a cup of creamy potato salad and a large soda, hold the roll and enjoy three ounces of tofu with two celery stalks, a teaspoon of brown mustard and a medium apple.
Instead of four slices of pepperoni pizza dripping with grease, served with a large caesar salad with tons of croutons, try a small chicken breast grilled with the juice of one lemon and served with three broccoli florets.
Do this and you will lose ten pounds!!!!
Ok, so my example is slightly more ludicrous than her usual, but you get the general idea. She compares two meals that are completely unalike; uses the phrases "dripping with grease," "hold the roll," and "slathered in mayo;" and closes with some ridiculous outcome and a gratuitous number of exclamation points.
Anyway. When she's not busy sending us crazy nutritional emails, she's sending crazy exercise emails. Friday, we got one about how your brain tells you to stop working out because it has no self-confidence and you should ignore it. (That was especially entertaining because my friend, Linda, had just had a personal training session with this crazy trainer, and she thought the email was directed at her.) Here's this week's crazy email:
Whether you've been loyal to your weekly workout plans or not, this week we've got just the thing to keep you motivated and get you back on track. According to top researchers, varying your cardio routine makes it more effective. And, like always, we're here to help.
First, try the ultimate antiboredom workout. It combines cycling, running, and elliptical with various speeds and intensity.
To get the best results, pay attention to your rate of perceived exertion (RPE), or how hard you're working on a scale of 1 to 10
6 No exertion at all
7 Extremely light
8
9 Very light - (easy walking slowly at a comfortable pace)
10
11 Light
12
13 Somewhat hard (It is quite an effort; you feel tired but can continue)
14
15 Hard (heavy)
16
17 Very hard (very strenuous, and you are very fatigued)
18
19 Extremely hard (You can not continue for long at this pace)
20 Maximal exertion
The rest of the email is a fairly detailed exercise routine. I have no issue with it, especially since she assured us that "this workout will blast 400 calories!!!!!"
Do we all see the problem here? Instead of a scale from one to ten, which is logical if a little simplistic, we have a scale from six to twenty. Never mind truth in advertising...when has anyone ever asked anyone to rate something on a scale from six to twenty?
"So, Lefty, how did you like that movie?"
"Ehh...on a scale of six to twenty, I give it an 8.5."
What happened to numbers one through five? I imagine 1 is "asleep (unconscious)" and three is "sitting." 7, by the way, is "waving to a friend" and 8 is "two snaps in a circle." I especially love how number 15 "hard" is further explained as "heavy." That's just the attention to detail that will help me determine where I fall on the scale between "somewhat hard" and "very hard."
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
The Housing Situation
Last night I didn't get home until 10, but it was good because I was out getting a lease signed for a better apartment.
See, on Sunday, I brought Matt to look at the apartment, and I realized that the group of buildings that I thought was where we would be living was not part of the complex. So Monday I tried to Google the complex...and came up with all these awful awful reviews of the place. I mean, they were really horrible. There were reviews going back six months saying that the place is infested with cockroaches, they don't pick up the garbage, someone's oven was broken for a week before maintenance finally came to look at it...
Oh no. I cannot live in a place like this.
So I sent Matt the reviews, and he started freaking out, and I called my mom, and her advice was to call the landlord and ask them what they're doing about the roaches, which didn't sound productive to me at all. Also, she just kept saying "but all the other apartments were so much more money." Which is true, but I don't think that's because all of them were overpriced. I think that's the going rate, and this place is lower for a reason...
But then the Realtor we met on Sunday called us and said that the landlord agreed to come down on the rent (just $50, but I took it as a sign) so I took that apartment and he faxed us an application. And before I could even call the complex to tell them that I wanted our deposit back, they called me.
It turns out that the apartment we had applied for was smaller than they'd told us, and they wouldn't have another apartment in the size we want until the middle of April. So I told them to give my money back so I can get a new place. Then they called again yesterday to say that they found another apartment in the size we wanted. Umm...no. Just give my money back. I haven't heard from them again, so the check had better be in the mail.
So, Matt filled out the application and the Realtor faxed us the lease, and I took the train over to the Realtor's last night with the security deposit and the signed lease. So now we have an apartment and we can keep both the cats, and life is good. And then my dad got home and drove me over to a station on my line so I could take the train home. And a train had broken down at the station, so the schedule was all messed up, but at least it was warm and there were some nice people at the station to talk to.
It was a long night, but at least we have a nice, clean place to live now, and it will allow both cats, so I feel better about it.
See, on Sunday, I brought Matt to look at the apartment, and I realized that the group of buildings that I thought was where we would be living was not part of the complex. So Monday I tried to Google the complex...and came up with all these awful awful reviews of the place. I mean, they were really horrible. There were reviews going back six months saying that the place is infested with cockroaches, they don't pick up the garbage, someone's oven was broken for a week before maintenance finally came to look at it...
Oh no. I cannot live in a place like this.
So I sent Matt the reviews, and he started freaking out, and I called my mom, and her advice was to call the landlord and ask them what they're doing about the roaches, which didn't sound productive to me at all. Also, she just kept saying "but all the other apartments were so much more money." Which is true, but I don't think that's because all of them were overpriced. I think that's the going rate, and this place is lower for a reason...
But then the Realtor we met on Sunday called us and said that the landlord agreed to come down on the rent (just $50, but I took it as a sign) so I took that apartment and he faxed us an application. And before I could even call the complex to tell them that I wanted our deposit back, they called me.
It turns out that the apartment we had applied for was smaller than they'd told us, and they wouldn't have another apartment in the size we want until the middle of April. So I told them to give my money back so I can get a new place. Then they called again yesterday to say that they found another apartment in the size we wanted. Umm...no. Just give my money back. I haven't heard from them again, so the check had better be in the mail.
So, Matt filled out the application and the Realtor faxed us the lease, and I took the train over to the Realtor's last night with the security deposit and the signed lease. So now we have an apartment and we can keep both the cats, and life is good. And then my dad got home and drove me over to a station on my line so I could take the train home. And a train had broken down at the station, so the schedule was all messed up, but at least it was warm and there were some nice people at the station to talk to.
It was a long night, but at least we have a nice, clean place to live now, and it will allow both cats, so I feel better about it.
Five a Day
The USDA has changed the recommended daily servings of produce. Following their recent policy of making dietary guidelines as complicated as possible, they've gone from suggesting "5 a day" to a sliding scale based on age and activity level. They also removed the number from their slogan, so they are now shilling "more is better." They made this change because their focus groups showed that people weren't even getting 5 servings a day, so they figured that people would be more driven to eat produce if they were faced with a vaguely motivating slogan. Clearly, these people have never studied game theory, Sesame Street, Weight Watchers, or RPGs. People need goals. Numbers are powerful. Take away the number and you take away the goal.
But wait, there's more stupidity! Instead of encouraging people to eat more servings, they're encouraging people to eat more cups of produce. What's wrong with that? I mean, telling someone to eat 5 cups of something is certainly clearer than telling them to eat 5 servings, right?
Not when you phrase it like this:
One cup of fruit is equivalent to 1 cup of cut-up fruit; one small apple, a medium pear, or a large peach; 1/2 cup dried fruit; or 8 ounces of 100% fruit juice. One cup of vegetables equals 1 cup of raw or cooked vegetables or vegetable juice, or 2 cups of leafy greens.
One cup equals 1/2 cup? One cup equals 2 cups? Forget game theory, these people have never studied math at all ever. They really do need to watch more Sesame Street.
But wait, there's more stupidity! Instead of encouraging people to eat more servings, they're encouraging people to eat more cups of produce. What's wrong with that? I mean, telling someone to eat 5 cups of something is certainly clearer than telling them to eat 5 servings, right?
Not when you phrase it like this:
One cup of fruit is equivalent to 1 cup of cut-up fruit; one small apple, a medium pear, or a large peach; 1/2 cup dried fruit; or 8 ounces of 100% fruit juice. One cup of vegetables equals 1 cup of raw or cooked vegetables or vegetable juice, or 2 cups of leafy greens.
One cup equals 1/2 cup? One cup equals 2 cups? Forget game theory, these people have never studied math at all ever. They really do need to watch more Sesame Street.
What would Karen do?
Packing for a move brings some interesting items back into the light.
Consequently, I have a situation and need some advice...
I have a tape of a concert my ex gave with two of his friends from high school. I believe this is the only recording of the concert. He's a semi-professional musician, and I think he'd probably like to have the recording. Whether or not he has a tape player is another question. We don't really talk, but I have his contact info. (Even though we don't talk, we keep each other updated on our whereabouts in case of emergency. Don't ask me what type of emergency would come up that I would need him for. I don't know. I don't know why he would need me, either. It's just something we do.)
To be fair, I have to tell you that I'm not good for him. I don't want to hurt him, but inevitably I do. Every time we try to be friends, things go along fine for a couple weeks/months and then he tells me he needs a break. In the seven years since we broke up, I have only seen this coming once (three years ago, when I got engaged). All the other times, I thought we were just sending the occasional casual email and everything was fine. Apparently, that's not the case. I'd like to think we have enough distance between us now, but I know I'm not the one who gets to make that call.
About a month ago, I sent him a message via facebook asking if he wanted the tape. He hasn't responded. He usually has to brood for a while before he responds to emails, but this is an unusually long time. Also, he just moved, so I'm sure he has other things on his mind. BUT, it's also possible that he just doesn't realize I sent him the message. I sent it via facebook because our most recent contact was over face book, and I figured that would be less threatening, but it's very possible that he doesn't know that he has a message in his inbox, if he doesn't use that function. Assuming he wants the tape, I'd like to send it to him before I move so I don't lose
it. But it's smaller than a bread box. Moving it to the new place is not a problem.
So, here are the possible scenarios, as I see them.
What would you do? Based on his past behavior, all four scenarios are possible, although I think 1a is the least likely considering that he just friended me a couple months ago. I think the tape is something he'd like to have, but I don't want to be creepy about sending it to him. Even though he knows I have his address, he probably doesn't think about me ever sending him mail, so if a random package from me showed up, he might be a little upset. Or he might just think "oh, a package from Marisa..." I really have no idea. (He made the last mail contact - he sent me a postcard when I moved to Pittsburgh - so I know he used to be open to mail.) I'd rather have his permission to send him the tape, but I don't want to throw the tape away if he wants it and doesn't want to contact me or hasn't seen my message.
So, I'm torn. Do I email him again? Call him? (This would probably be awkward. we haven't spoken in 5-6 years.) Wait another month? Throw the tape away?
Why is this bothering me so much?
Consequently, I have a situation and need some advice...
I have a tape of a concert my ex gave with two of his friends from high school. I believe this is the only recording of the concert. He's a semi-professional musician, and I think he'd probably like to have the recording. Whether or not he has a tape player is another question. We don't really talk, but I have his contact info. (Even though we don't talk, we keep each other updated on our whereabouts in case of emergency. Don't ask me what type of emergency would come up that I would need him for. I don't know. I don't know why he would need me, either. It's just something we do.)
To be fair, I have to tell you that I'm not good for him. I don't want to hurt him, but inevitably I do. Every time we try to be friends, things go along fine for a couple weeks/months and then he tells me he needs a break. In the seven years since we broke up, I have only seen this coming once (three years ago, when I got engaged). All the other times, I thought we were just sending the occasional casual email and everything was fine. Apparently, that's not the case. I'd like to think we have enough distance between us now, but I know I'm not the one who gets to make that call.
About a month ago, I sent him a message via facebook asking if he wanted the tape. He hasn't responded. He usually has to brood for a while before he responds to emails, but this is an unusually long time. Also, he just moved, so I'm sure he has other things on his mind. BUT, it's also possible that he just doesn't realize I sent him the message. I sent it via facebook because our most recent contact was over face book, and I figured that would be less threatening, but it's very possible that he doesn't know that he has a message in his inbox, if he doesn't use that function. Assuming he wants the tape, I'd like to send it to him before I move so I don't lose
it. But it's smaller than a bread box. Moving it to the new place is not a problem.
So, here are the possible scenarios, as I see them.
- He's ignoring me because:
- He doesn't want any contact - including the tape. Throw the tape away before I move
- He doesn't want to invite me back into his life, but he still wants the tape. Send him the tape whether or not he replies.
- He's not ignoring me. He hasn't replied because:
- He's stressed about his own move. Wait for him to reply.
- He hasn't seen my message. Email or call him.
What would you do? Based on his past behavior, all four scenarios are possible, although I think 1a is the least likely considering that he just friended me a couple months ago. I think the tape is something he'd like to have, but I don't want to be creepy about sending it to him. Even though he knows I have his address, he probably doesn't think about me ever sending him mail, so if a random package from me showed up, he might be a little upset. Or he might just think "oh, a package from Marisa..." I really have no idea. (He made the last mail contact - he sent me a postcard when I moved to Pittsburgh - so I know he used to be open to mail.) I'd rather have his permission to send him the tape, but I don't want to throw the tape away if he wants it and doesn't want to contact me or hasn't seen my message.
So, I'm torn. Do I email him again? Call him? (This would probably be awkward. we haven't spoken in 5-6 years.) Wait another month? Throw the tape away?
Why is this bothering me so much?
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Adventures in Consumerism
I have had two crazy encounters on check-out lines this weekend. Considering that I spent most of the weekend either packing or moving, that is quite a feat.
The first adventure was at Quizno's. We go there maybe twice a month because we can walk over. There are about 4 restaurants that we can walk to for take-out, but Quizno's doesn't require any planning or forethought, so it's our most common choice. I think Matt goes there for lunch a few times a month by himself, so this franchise is getting a lot of our money. Most weekends, we either go there or the Malaysian restaurant next to Borders (so we can browse while our food is prepared). Yes, we are quite boring.
Anyway, we walked to Quizno's, and there were 3 people behind the counter: a blond girl I see a lot, a skinny boy I didn't recognize, and the owner. There are also 3 customers: a couple finishing lunch at a table and a blond tanorexic woman who had just ordered. We walked up to the counter, but Tanorexia is chatting away to Blondie, who is barely registering any response. Tanny is chatting about ridiculous things like going to the gym and talking to some random people...I don't know. I figured that Tanny was friends with Blondie's mom or something because that was the level of interest Blondie was showing. Meanwhile, the owner was getting annoyed, so finally she turns to Tanny and calmly tells her that Blondie can't talk right now because she's working.
Tanny says "but she's done making my sandwich."
Manager points out that there are other customers.
And that's when Tanny flipped right the eff out. She starts yelling that she's not paying for her sandwich because the manager is rude and her husband is a lawyer and she knows what harassment is and she's never coming back because she's being harassed. (Meanwhile, back at the register, Skinny Boy, in the manner of clueless high school boys everywhere, is trying to ask Tanny if she wants lettuce on her sandwich.)
The manager yells back that Blondie works for her and she doesn't care who Tanny's husband is because Blondie has to serve all the customers who come in. Both of them want the last word, so they go back and forth with the "you're harassing me"/"Blondie is working" business for a few minutes before Tanny finally walks out.
Manager calmly tells Blondie that she can't chat with the customers like that, and Blondie starts laughing.
"I didn't WANT to talk to her," Blondie says. "I just didn't know what to do. I've never seen that woman before in my life."
The second incident was the exact opposite. We went to the store for a couple things and got in the express lane. Only after we unloaded our 10 items did we realize that the line was not moving at all. At first I thought it was because the people in front of us didn't appear to be able to count. They had mounds of groceries on the belt. I'm going to say at least 30 items. I was annoyed and bored, so I started making up a song about people who don't know how to count. (This is what I do when I'm bored. I think it embarasses Matt because by the time I come up with a decent second verse he's tapping on my hand or pointing at magazines or something.)
Sure enough, I got through one verse and was repeating it because I had to vamp while I came up with a chorus when Matt suddenly and urgently needed to hold hands. This distracted me enough to notice that the cashier (who was named Ari even though she was a girl and Ari is a boy's name) was chatting with the customers who can't count.
Seriously, she had a comment on every other item. I was so annoyed. This girl is holding up the line! Finally, Ari-who-is-a-girl manages to ring them up and it's our turn...and she starts trying to talk to us.
"Hey guys! Did you have a good weekend?" Ari-who-is-a-girl chirped at us. I just stared at her. She didn't seem to care. "ooh...are you making soup? Do you like this bread? " Then she crossed the line "Oww...I pinched my finger, see?" She held her finger in front of my face. I nodded, because I did see her finger. She was waving it in my face, so I assumed that was the point. I mean, I wasn't about to kiss it or anything.
So now, just before I leave Princeton, I have to arrange a meeting between Tanny and Ari-who-is-a-girl. Then they can talk for hours about ridiculous things that no one cares about, and I will not be here to be annoyed.
Everybody wins!
The first adventure was at Quizno's. We go there maybe twice a month because we can walk over. There are about 4 restaurants that we can walk to for take-out, but Quizno's doesn't require any planning or forethought, so it's our most common choice. I think Matt goes there for lunch a few times a month by himself, so this franchise is getting a lot of our money. Most weekends, we either go there or the Malaysian restaurant next to Borders (so we can browse while our food is prepared). Yes, we are quite boring.
Anyway, we walked to Quizno's, and there were 3 people behind the counter: a blond girl I see a lot, a skinny boy I didn't recognize, and the owner. There are also 3 customers: a couple finishing lunch at a table and a blond tanorexic woman who had just ordered. We walked up to the counter, but Tanorexia is chatting away to Blondie, who is barely registering any response. Tanny is chatting about ridiculous things like going to the gym and talking to some random people...I don't know. I figured that Tanny was friends with Blondie's mom or something because that was the level of interest Blondie was showing. Meanwhile, the owner was getting annoyed, so finally she turns to Tanny and calmly tells her that Blondie can't talk right now because she's working.
Tanny says "but she's done making my sandwich."
Manager points out that there are other customers.
And that's when Tanny flipped right the eff out. She starts yelling that she's not paying for her sandwich because the manager is rude and her husband is a lawyer and she knows what harassment is and she's never coming back because she's being harassed. (Meanwhile, back at the register, Skinny Boy, in the manner of clueless high school boys everywhere, is trying to ask Tanny if she wants lettuce on her sandwich.)
The manager yells back that Blondie works for her and she doesn't care who Tanny's husband is because Blondie has to serve all the customers who come in. Both of them want the last word, so they go back and forth with the "you're harassing me"/"Blondie is working" business for a few minutes before Tanny finally walks out.
Manager calmly tells Blondie that she can't chat with the customers like that, and Blondie starts laughing.
"I didn't WANT to talk to her," Blondie says. "I just didn't know what to do. I've never seen that woman before in my life."
The second incident was the exact opposite. We went to the store for a couple things and got in the express lane. Only after we unloaded our 10 items did we realize that the line was not moving at all. At first I thought it was because the people in front of us didn't appear to be able to count. They had mounds of groceries on the belt. I'm going to say at least 30 items. I was annoyed and bored, so I started making up a song about people who don't know how to count. (This is what I do when I'm bored. I think it embarasses Matt because by the time I come up with a decent second verse he's tapping on my hand or pointing at magazines or something.)
Sure enough, I got through one verse and was repeating it because I had to vamp while I came up with a chorus when Matt suddenly and urgently needed to hold hands. This distracted me enough to notice that the cashier (who was named Ari even though she was a girl and Ari is a boy's name) was chatting with the customers who can't count.
Seriously, she had a comment on every other item. I was so annoyed. This girl is holding up the line! Finally, Ari-who-is-a-girl manages to ring them up and it's our turn...and she starts trying to talk to us.
"Hey guys! Did you have a good weekend?" Ari-who-is-a-girl chirped at us. I just stared at her. She didn't seem to care. "ooh...are you making soup? Do you like this bread? " Then she crossed the line "Oww...I pinched my finger, see?" She held her finger in front of my face. I nodded, because I did see her finger. She was waving it in my face, so I assumed that was the point. I mean, I wasn't about to kiss it or anything.
So now, just before I leave Princeton, I have to arrange a meeting between Tanny and Ari-who-is-a-girl. Then they can talk for hours about ridiculous things that no one cares about, and I will not be here to be annoyed.
Everybody wins!
Work Drama
The work drama continues. Apparently, the employee newsletter snafu is counting towards the zero-tolerance policy, and there was just another incident where we were printing invitations, and the project owner realized the time was wrong on them after they printed but before they were mailed, so now everyone who proofread that project also has a "needs improvement" for the year. The situation truly sucks. There is just no way to excel and no way to recover. If you have a perfect year, then you're "meeting expectations." If you mess up once in January, you've failed for the year. So frustrating.
Meanwhile, back at the ESAT ranch, we had to give our presentation on Friday, with mixed results. No, no. Let me rephrase. Most people were on board with all our suggestions...except my manager who took the whole thing personally and "couldn't talk" to me for an hour afterward because she needed "calming time." Also, the director decided - yesterday, in front of everyone, after hearing the presentation twice - that the third issue we were ASSIGNED was stupid.
I just want to bang my head on the wall.
And, finally, I got a blue line back from the printer on Friday, and the printer had flagged a minor graphics error. So then I was a little nervous that catching something on a blue line could lead to dinging since we have to pay for those corrections. Then I was upset thinking that whoever I give the proofreading to will get dinged, so they're basically asking me to decide who gets dinged...which doesn't make a lot of sense, but I was upset.
So I talked to one of the managers, and her advice was...wait for it...
Remove the printer's note and quietly circulate the document, hoping that no one else picks up on the error, then quietly ask the printer to make the correction.
Sounds like a plan, no?
Meanwhile, back at the ESAT ranch, we had to give our presentation on Friday, with mixed results. No, no. Let me rephrase. Most people were on board with all our suggestions...except my manager who took the whole thing personally and "couldn't talk" to me for an hour afterward because she needed "calming time." Also, the director decided - yesterday, in front of everyone, after hearing the presentation twice - that the third issue we were ASSIGNED was stupid.
I just want to bang my head on the wall.
And, finally, I got a blue line back from the printer on Friday, and the printer had flagged a minor graphics error. So then I was a little nervous that catching something on a blue line could lead to dinging since we have to pay for those corrections. Then I was upset thinking that whoever I give the proofreading to will get dinged, so they're basically asking me to decide who gets dinged...which doesn't make a lot of sense, but I was upset.
So I talked to one of the managers, and her advice was...wait for it...
Remove the printer's note and quietly circulate the document, hoping that no one else picks up on the error, then quietly ask the printer to make the correction.
Sounds like a plan, no?
Apartment Drama
Basically, we have to move in 2 weeks, but Matt still hasn't accepted a job, so two weeks ago he finally decided that he doesn't want to move to CA (probably) so I started frantically looking for apartments. Dozens of apartments. Literally dozens of nasty dirty apartments. All of these apartments have been at least an hour from where we live, so just going to visit them requires planning. We have to move in two weeks, and we still haven't signed a lease on a new place. So, I am a little freaking out. And my mom blames me for all of this because I'm not "stepping up and
taking care of Matt." Yes, that's right. It is solely my responsibility to arrange housing for the two of us because he is trying to graduate, and it is solely my fault that we're in a mess now. Matt is completely stressed out and deserves a lot of slack, but come on. Finding a place to live is
not a "that's ok, honey, I'll take care of it" moment.
We finally found a place last weekend, and Matt was supposed to go fill out the application on Monday because their leasing office is only open from 10-5 on weekdays...but then we found out that they only allow 1 cat. So then he stormed out and called to yell at me about how I have to
tell him what lies he's supposed to tell people because he can't keep them straight for me. Also he left his squash racquet in my car so I was keeping him from spending time with his friends. (This is the kind of moment when I will cut him some slack, but it was still a problem.) I am at work while he's yelling at me, and I don't have any of the paperwork they want to file an application, so I was freaking out that we were going to lose this apartment and not find another one. So, like any rational woman, I went down to the gym to calm down...and started crying on the treadmill.
So Tuesday I had to use vacation time to go fill out an application (including a "pet application," which is ridiculous). And Matt is still freaked out about having 2 cats in the apartment when they think we only have one - even though that is exactly what we've been doing for over a year now. He seems to think they're going to come in, see the cats, and kick us out. So Shadow is going to stay with Matt's mom for a couple months...
Unless we get another apartment. That's right. Last night, at 10 pm, another person called me that their apartment is still available. It's a 2-bedroom in the middle of town (small town, but still) and they would allow both cats. I had called them last week and they were just returning my call - plus they didn't rerun the ad we responded to, so I think they rented it and the deal fell through last minute.
taking care of Matt." Yes, that's right. It is solely my responsibility to arrange housing for the two of us because he is trying to graduate, and it is solely my fault that we're in a mess now. Matt is completely stressed out and deserves a lot of slack, but come on. Finding a place to live is
not a "that's ok, honey, I'll take care of it" moment.
We finally found a place last weekend, and Matt was supposed to go fill out the application on Monday because their leasing office is only open from 10-5 on weekdays...but then we found out that they only allow 1 cat. So then he stormed out and called to yell at me about how I have to
tell him what lies he's supposed to tell people because he can't keep them straight for me. Also he left his squash racquet in my car so I was keeping him from spending time with his friends. (This is the kind of moment when I will cut him some slack, but it was still a problem.) I am at work while he's yelling at me, and I don't have any of the paperwork they want to file an application, so I was freaking out that we were going to lose this apartment and not find another one. So, like any rational woman, I went down to the gym to calm down...and started crying on the treadmill.
So Tuesday I had to use vacation time to go fill out an application (including a "pet application," which is ridiculous). And Matt is still freaked out about having 2 cats in the apartment when they think we only have one - even though that is exactly what we've been doing for over a year now. He seems to think they're going to come in, see the cats, and kick us out. So Shadow is going to stay with Matt's mom for a couple months...
Unless we get another apartment. That's right. Last night, at 10 pm, another person called me that their apartment is still available. It's a 2-bedroom in the middle of town (small town, but still) and they would allow both cats. I had called them last week and they were just returning my call - plus they didn't rerun the ad we responded to, so I think they rented it and the deal fell through last minute.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Piano Man Incident
One of my friends loaned me Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs, so I'm reading it on the train. (Decent train reading, by the way. I find that short stories and essays make the best train fare. Also, this was free, and I will read just about anything I can get my hands on. I am a train book junkie.) Anyway, I just read the essay about Billy Joel (the whole premise of which is that Billy Joel is the only rock star who has managed to become a rock star without ever being cool), which reminded me of an incident from high school.
The Billy Joel Incident takes place on a marching band bus. My high school was not normal. Out of 1200 students in my high school, approximately 150 were in the marching band/color guard. Not that this made marching band cool, but it wasn't uncool, either. It just kind of was. Some people were in it, and some people weren't, and some people were way too into it, but it basically didn't matter where you fell. It also meant that a lot of the stereotypes about what sort of kid joins the marching band weren't true for my high school. Or, they were but there were a lot of other kids, too. The stoner guys who played drums or guitar in some crazy band on the weekend, the big eff-up who built his own monster truck, even a couple cheerleaders and football players were in the marching band.
We used 7 buses to transport the band and equipment to competitions, and you had to sign up to take the same bus all year, so the chaperones would be able to find you. (This replaced the old system of jumping onto the first bus you saw and then signing a sheet. The usual fake-name hijinx ensued, and my sophomore or junior year there were a couple chaperones who just never caught on to that...so change was inevitable.) People more or less coexisted but obviously wanted to be on a bus with people from their own clique. Most of the buses were pretty predictable: most of the guard rode on the same bus, most of the drummers did as well. And then there was
bus 3.
Bus 3 filled with cliques following stream of conscious, or possibly dream logic. (Two drum majors were friends, so all they signed up for a bus with their friends...and one of them was dating a piccolo player, so all the piccolos signed up for the same bus, and the other drum major figured she should be on that bus, so she signed up with her best friend who played the tuba, so the other tubas signed up...and none of these people got along.) By the second or third trip, people were literally climbing over the seats to beat each other up. I still don't know why the chaperones allowed this, or if they were just so dense that they never caught on. It's one of those
crazy things that happens when you're a kid, and it's cool at the time, and then when you're just a little bit older, you think "how did I get away with that? who was supposed to be watching me?"
The Billy Joel incident happened after the last competition - the big state competition at Giants Stadium. We had done pretty well the year before with a Copeland show (if you've ever been in marching band, you know that Copeland shows always score well). We placed in the top 20, and we had a great show. It was a Gershwin show and there were a lot of crazy things going on. Dancing and playing instruments we made out of pipes and trashcan lids and rotating boxes. It was craziness. That also meant that there were a lot of things that could go wrong. And, in retrospect, it was the year that our director planned a lot of really difficult, experimental stuff that didn't go over well with the judges. (This wasn't just the marching band, but my story is about the marching band, so I'm trying really hard not to get sidetracked.) The show didn't go very well. So we all got back on the bus, and everyone was just pi55ed. No one was talking. No one even wanted to beat each other up. It just wasn't fun anymore.
One of the guys in the back had a radio. He normally used it to find a Yankees game or some obnoxiously loud rock music. Then everyone else would yell at him until he turned it down. That day, he was fiddling with the radio at some obnoxious volume when he happened across Piano Man.
And everyone started singing.
Not just a little uncomfortable muttering the words, this was full-on preschool Wheels on the Bus abandon from people who barely wanted to share a vehicle and definitely did not share a taste in music. It was a moment.
It was magic.
As soon as the song ended, it was gone. People started yelling for him to bring the music back, or turn the radio down...but it didn't work. We were already back to talking with our friends and hitting each other. Same as it ever was, which I suppose was magic in a way since we had all been so morose a moment before. And then we got off the bus and got on with our lives. I don't remember discussing the incident with anyone. It happened, and then it was just gone - poof - into the ether.
The Billy Joel Incident takes place on a marching band bus. My high school was not normal. Out of 1200 students in my high school, approximately 150 were in the marching band/color guard. Not that this made marching band cool, but it wasn't uncool, either. It just kind of was. Some people were in it, and some people weren't, and some people were way too into it, but it basically didn't matter where you fell. It also meant that a lot of the stereotypes about what sort of kid joins the marching band weren't true for my high school. Or, they were but there were a lot of other kids, too. The stoner guys who played drums or guitar in some crazy band on the weekend, the big eff-up who built his own monster truck, even a couple cheerleaders and football players were in the marching band.
We used 7 buses to transport the band and equipment to competitions, and you had to sign up to take the same bus all year, so the chaperones would be able to find you. (This replaced the old system of jumping onto the first bus you saw and then signing a sheet. The usual fake-name hijinx ensued, and my sophomore or junior year there were a couple chaperones who just never caught on to that...so change was inevitable.) People more or less coexisted but obviously wanted to be on a bus with people from their own clique. Most of the buses were pretty predictable: most of the guard rode on the same bus, most of the drummers did as well. And then there was
bus 3.
Bus 3 filled with cliques following stream of conscious, or possibly dream logic. (Two drum majors were friends, so all they signed up for a bus with their friends...and one of them was dating a piccolo player, so all the piccolos signed up for the same bus, and the other drum major figured she should be on that bus, so she signed up with her best friend who played the tuba, so the other tubas signed up...and none of these people got along.) By the second or third trip, people were literally climbing over the seats to beat each other up. I still don't know why the chaperones allowed this, or if they were just so dense that they never caught on. It's one of those
crazy things that happens when you're a kid, and it's cool at the time, and then when you're just a little bit older, you think "how did I get away with that? who was supposed to be watching me?"
The Billy Joel incident happened after the last competition - the big state competition at Giants Stadium. We had done pretty well the year before with a Copeland show (if you've ever been in marching band, you know that Copeland shows always score well). We placed in the top 20, and we had a great show. It was a Gershwin show and there were a lot of crazy things going on. Dancing and playing instruments we made out of pipes and trashcan lids and rotating boxes. It was craziness. That also meant that there were a lot of things that could go wrong. And, in retrospect, it was the year that our director planned a lot of really difficult, experimental stuff that didn't go over well with the judges. (This wasn't just the marching band, but my story is about the marching band, so I'm trying really hard not to get sidetracked.) The show didn't go very well. So we all got back on the bus, and everyone was just pi55ed. No one was talking. No one even wanted to beat each other up. It just wasn't fun anymore.
One of the guys in the back had a radio. He normally used it to find a Yankees game or some obnoxiously loud rock music. Then everyone else would yell at him until he turned it down. That day, he was fiddling with the radio at some obnoxious volume when he happened across Piano Man.
And everyone started singing.
Not just a little uncomfortable muttering the words, this was full-on preschool Wheels on the Bus abandon from people who barely wanted to share a vehicle and definitely did not share a taste in music. It was a moment.
It was magic.
As soon as the song ended, it was gone. People started yelling for him to bring the music back, or turn the radio down...but it didn't work. We were already back to talking with our friends and hitting each other. Same as it ever was, which I suppose was magic in a way since we had all been so morose a moment before. And then we got off the bus and got on with our lives. I don't remember discussing the incident with anyone. It happened, and then it was just gone - poof - into the ether.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Brilliant idea for cryptograms.
The day just flew at work, which was wonderful. I bought a calendar at Borders over the weekend because all calendars have been marked down to $1. (Our favorite Thai/Malaysian restaurant is right next to a Borders, so we often browse while we're waiting for our order.) Anyway, I bought a cryptograms desk calendar. I figured that I could use it to amuse myself when things are slow at work, and if I copy over the cryptogram, I might actually look like I'm doing work! I'm not a huge fan of cryptograms, by the way, but they'll do if I'm bored.
Anyway, while I was working out a cryptogram and reading a healthcare listserv, it hit me...wouldn't the best cryptograms be ones that can replace letters in words so that they form new words? I don't even know if that's possible, but I kind of want to try. THEN I thought it would be a good idea for a blog if I could create cryptograms of recent headlines, and the solution would point you to the article.
This is how bored I am, people.
In other news, I have to present our ESAT team's recommendations to the director this morning. I'm not too worried, particularly because I have a dopey section to present. It's short and stupid and obvious, so maybe I'd better worry a little bit more about adding something useful to someone else's section of the presentation. Hmm...can't worry too much, the presentation's at 9:00.
Then this afternoon I have a "one on one" with my manager, which I suppose is going to be about my goals for this year. We'll see. We all have them - even the girl who doesn't technically report to my manager anymore - so I'm sure we'll circle up later.
Anyway, while I was working out a cryptogram and reading a healthcare listserv, it hit me...wouldn't the best cryptograms be ones that can replace letters in words so that they form new words? I don't even know if that's possible, but I kind of want to try. THEN I thought it would be a good idea for a blog if I could create cryptograms of recent headlines, and the solution would point you to the article.
This is how bored I am, people.
In other news, I have to present our ESAT team's recommendations to the director this morning. I'm not too worried, particularly because I have a dopey section to present. It's short and stupid and obvious, so maybe I'd better worry a little bit more about adding something useful to someone else's section of the presentation. Hmm...can't worry too much, the presentation's at 9:00.
Then this afternoon I have a "one on one" with my manager, which I suppose is going to be about my goals for this year. We'll see. We all have them - even the girl who doesn't technically report to my manager anymore - so I'm sure we'll circle up later.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
The work update
I actually wrote out a very long and detailed version of this post on the train...complete with ridiculous nicknames for the whole department, but I'm hoping to keep this shorter and clearer, if possible, so I'm going to free-write now and answer questions later.
Work sucks.
Don't get me wrong. I still like my job. I like writing instructions and letters. I like writing about medicine/health care, and I love writing for the women's health magazine, but the office is just effed up, and I'm not sure how long I can take it.
This is going to take a while to explain...it starts in December, when we got the results of the employee satisfaction survey (ESAT). They were, umm...lower than expected. The director's bonus is based on the ESAT scores. She was displeased. We then had an inquisition about how unhappy we are. Then she gave us Christmas presents.
A couple weeks later, the employee newsletter came out...and there was a typo in one of the subheads. Which the editor found and showed her boss. And then half the department got in trouble for missing that typo. (literally, a "b" and "p" were transposed.)
The next week, the director called a "quick team meeting." We all assumed we'd be getting another lecture about missing the typo. No...one of the girls was being promoted to manager of a newly-created national account group. My team currently supports the national accounts...so one of us would be going over to the new team.
Apparently, my manager found out about this at the same time we did, and she has handled it in her usual mature manner. I don't think she had a say in who was leaving, but she was supposed to hold a group meeting and tell us all what was going on. Of course that didn't happen. In fact, I'm the only person she's told, and she just threw it out there "and after K goes to the new group..." as if I was supposed to know already. It puts K in a bad position because she can't transition her ongoing projects. A. (my manager) has decided to "shake up" our current accounts, so she won't even tell K who's getting her old accounts...also, she's taking advantage of the fact that K's new manager doesn't have access to the database that lets her assign new work, so K's still getting new jobs for her old clients, and I'm still getting jobs for my old clients...which should be going to K. In fact, I'm not sure my clients are aware that I will no longer be working on their projects.
Now, this is pretty annoying, but I can almost excuse it because, in my more charitable moments, I have decided that A. has some sort of mental illness. She demonstrated this during our annual reviews, where she gave all 4 of us the exact same review - word for word - while refusing to look us in the eye. I know we all got the same review because it was completely inappropriate for three of us, so we all got together to discuss later. In the meantime...remember the typo debacle? Well, as a result of that smash-up, there will be a new zero tolerance editing policy for our 2008 reviews. That's right. If you have one mistake on one of your projects (and I typically have 15-20 at any given time) OR if there's a mistake on any project you proofread (and we have to get at least 20 signatures on everything we produce) you automatically get a Needs Improvement on your next review. This has made everyone so paranoid that they're making ridiculous formatting edits on things that are about to go to print, and, even worse, they're approving one document, and then when I try to route an identical document a week later...they're not signing off on it. They're asking for a million formatting changes.
Did I mention that there's also a new zero tolerance policy for missed deadlines, but only for the newsletters and posters? So that effects about 6 of us.
And that a few of the more friendly team members have been officially warned about socializing with specific people?(As in: It came up in our manager's meeting that you've been seen talking to Michelle. I just wanted to let you know that people have noticed.)
None of which is improving our ESAT, which, oh yes, is now tied to my bonus.
Every day I don't walk right off the job is a gift from God.
Work sucks.
Don't get me wrong. I still like my job. I like writing instructions and letters. I like writing about medicine/health care, and I love writing for the women's health magazine, but the office is just effed up, and I'm not sure how long I can take it.
This is going to take a while to explain...it starts in December, when we got the results of the employee satisfaction survey (ESAT). They were, umm...lower than expected. The director's bonus is based on the ESAT scores. She was displeased. We then had an inquisition about how unhappy we are. Then she gave us Christmas presents.
A couple weeks later, the employee newsletter came out...and there was a typo in one of the subheads. Which the editor found and showed her boss. And then half the department got in trouble for missing that typo. (literally, a "b" and "p" were transposed.)
The next week, the director called a "quick team meeting." We all assumed we'd be getting another lecture about missing the typo. No...one of the girls was being promoted to manager of a newly-created national account group. My team currently supports the national accounts...so one of us would be going over to the new team.
Apparently, my manager found out about this at the same time we did, and she has handled it in her usual mature manner. I don't think she had a say in who was leaving, but she was supposed to hold a group meeting and tell us all what was going on. Of course that didn't happen. In fact, I'm the only person she's told, and she just threw it out there "and after K goes to the new group..." as if I was supposed to know already. It puts K in a bad position because she can't transition her ongoing projects. A. (my manager) has decided to "shake up" our current accounts, so she won't even tell K who's getting her old accounts...also, she's taking advantage of the fact that K's new manager doesn't have access to the database that lets her assign new work, so K's still getting new jobs for her old clients, and I'm still getting jobs for my old clients...which should be going to K. In fact, I'm not sure my clients are aware that I will no longer be working on their projects.
Now, this is pretty annoying, but I can almost excuse it because, in my more charitable moments, I have decided that A. has some sort of mental illness. She demonstrated this during our annual reviews, where she gave all 4 of us the exact same review - word for word - while refusing to look us in the eye. I know we all got the same review because it was completely inappropriate for three of us, so we all got together to discuss later. In the meantime...remember the typo debacle? Well, as a result of that smash-up, there will be a new zero tolerance editing policy for our 2008 reviews. That's right. If you have one mistake on one of your projects (and I typically have 15-20 at any given time) OR if there's a mistake on any project you proofread (and we have to get at least 20 signatures on everything we produce) you automatically get a Needs Improvement on your next review. This has made everyone so paranoid that they're making ridiculous formatting edits on things that are about to go to print, and, even worse, they're approving one document, and then when I try to route an identical document a week later...they're not signing off on it. They're asking for a million formatting changes.
Did I mention that there's also a new zero tolerance policy for missed deadlines, but only for the newsletters and posters? So that effects about 6 of us.
And that a few of the more friendly team members have been officially warned about socializing with specific people?(As in: It came up in our manager's meeting that you've been seen talking to Michelle. I just wanted to let you know that people have noticed.)
None of which is improving our ESAT, which, oh yes, is now tied to my bonus.
Every day I don't walk right off the job is a gift from God.
Friday, February 08, 2008
What is up with me?
I have been completely waterlogged all week. This is because I have (yet another) cold, and I'm just not hungry. Also, I'm trying to "flush it out," and you need an abundance of liquid for that.
As you may imagine, this liquid finds its way out at least every half hour, so that's lovely. What are you going to do, though, right? It has to go somewhere. Don't worry, I've only performed one deseperate act so far. I used the bathroom on the train Tuesday morning. I had to do it. I'm on the train for an hour. Tides change every half hour. It's not a good match.
I have been sick at least once a month since I started my new job. This seems to be a pattern in the office. Everyone tells me they were sick the whole first year they worked here, which is lovely. Does that mean I'm half-way done? Anyway, since 6 of the 8 people in my row started in the last 6 months, we're all sick. Plus one of the "vets" catches every chest cold that comes around, so only one person in our row is healthy. The graphics manager calls us Ground Zero.
I think I woke up every two hours Tuesday night because I would fall asleep on one side and the lymph node on that side of my throat would start killing me, so then I'd roll onto my back and start snoring. Yes, I wake myself up with my own snoring. Yes, it is very embarrassing, thank you, even when you're only half awake. Actually, I suspect that I can blame Matt for half the times I woke up. I know he woke me up at least once because I was snoring. I suspect that he was just trying to roll me over when I got belligerent. (If you wake me up, don't expect Nice Marisa to be home. I usually wake up angry and incoherent. Matt has better luck than Ben did. Sometimes I barely feel angry at all by the time I'm aware of him. Most of the time, though, I wake up to him chanting some sort of protective spell like "It's just me. You're ok. It's just me..." or the one he was using Tuesday night "Matt loves you. You were snoring. Matt loves you..." He may be trying to implant a subliminal message.) So I can probably blame him for some of the waking up on my side moments...
Poor Matt. He probably didn't get any sleep, either. I know how miserable it is trying to sleep in the same room as a snorer. And then he tries to roll me over to get some relief and I wake up angry. This was only Tuesday, though. Since then, I seem to be sleeping fine, if a little - or a lot - more than usual.
Somehow, I managed to get ready for work and put myself on a train. Even more miraculously, I seem to be getting stuff done this week. No, really. I've been really productive. Even though one of the production managers LOST one of my jobs and I'm still getting assignments that should be going to the new National Accounts team, and the zero tolerance policy is causing people to make stupid edits on all my jobs...I'm doing OK.
There will be separate posts on the job and family situations tonight or tomorrow. I promise. Bug me if I don't post something, because I have a lot of things I need to say. I just have to catch a train now...
As you may imagine, this liquid finds its way out at least every half hour, so that's lovely. What are you going to do, though, right? It has to go somewhere. Don't worry, I've only performed one deseperate act so far. I used the bathroom on the train Tuesday morning. I had to do it. I'm on the train for an hour. Tides change every half hour. It's not a good match.
I have been sick at least once a month since I started my new job. This seems to be a pattern in the office. Everyone tells me they were sick the whole first year they worked here, which is lovely. Does that mean I'm half-way done? Anyway, since 6 of the 8 people in my row started in the last 6 months, we're all sick. Plus one of the "vets" catches every chest cold that comes around, so only one person in our row is healthy. The graphics manager calls us Ground Zero.
I think I woke up every two hours Tuesday night because I would fall asleep on one side and the lymph node on that side of my throat would start killing me, so then I'd roll onto my back and start snoring. Yes, I wake myself up with my own snoring. Yes, it is very embarrassing, thank you, even when you're only half awake. Actually, I suspect that I can blame Matt for half the times I woke up. I know he woke me up at least once because I was snoring. I suspect that he was just trying to roll me over when I got belligerent. (If you wake me up, don't expect Nice Marisa to be home. I usually wake up angry and incoherent. Matt has better luck than Ben did. Sometimes I barely feel angry at all by the time I'm aware of him. Most of the time, though, I wake up to him chanting some sort of protective spell like "It's just me. You're ok. It's just me..." or the one he was using Tuesday night "Matt loves you. You were snoring. Matt loves you..." He may be trying to implant a subliminal message.) So I can probably blame him for some of the waking up on my side moments...
Poor Matt. He probably didn't get any sleep, either. I know how miserable it is trying to sleep in the same room as a snorer. And then he tries to roll me over to get some relief and I wake up angry. This was only Tuesday, though. Since then, I seem to be sleeping fine, if a little - or a lot - more than usual.
Somehow, I managed to get ready for work and put myself on a train. Even more miraculously, I seem to be getting stuff done this week. No, really. I've been really productive. Even though one of the production managers LOST one of my jobs and I'm still getting assignments that should be going to the new National Accounts team, and the zero tolerance policy is causing people to make stupid edits on all my jobs...I'm doing OK.
There will be separate posts on the job and family situations tonight or tomorrow. I promise. Bug me if I don't post something, because I have a lot of things I need to say. I just have to catch a train now...
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Weekend Update
This is my weekend of booked-up-ed-ness. Last night, we had dinner with the in-laws, which was maybe not the most pleasant they have ever been, but definitely in the top 20%. It is difficult for them to behave once they are removed from their natural surroundings, so I picked a restaurant they like that is, like, 2 blocks from their house. This didn't stop them from 1. getting there early - on purpose - and 2. ordering apps that they know I can't eat. (Which they always do, and it's usually not a big deal, but come on people. If you're taking the vegetarian out for her birthday, and you are too starving to wait for her to get to the restaurant, at least have the decency to order a vegetarian app.
But other than that brief incident and a little talk about people's heart problems and their inability to stick to a heart healthy diet, they were basically well-behaved. I was proud of them.
Today, Matty and I are going to see Curtains. It was a birthday present from my parents. Hopefully, that will be fun. We haven't had a "run around New York" day in a while, so I'm kind of looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to seeing the play, but I also just want to do nothing today, so I'm hoping that will change once I start moving.
And, of course, tomorrow is the super bowl. Party at Lauren's. I'm making veggie chili. It should be a good time, but a late night. We'll see. Maybe I will have an update later. Or maybe I will pass out. Because my life is so exciting I can hardly stand it. :)
But other than that brief incident and a little talk about people's heart problems and their inability to stick to a heart healthy diet, they were basically well-behaved. I was proud of them.
Today, Matty and I are going to see Curtains. It was a birthday present from my parents. Hopefully, that will be fun. We haven't had a "run around New York" day in a while, so I'm kind of looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to seeing the play, but I also just want to do nothing today, so I'm hoping that will change once I start moving.
And, of course, tomorrow is the super bowl. Party at Lauren's. I'm making veggie chili. It should be a good time, but a late night. We'll see. Maybe I will have an update later. Or maybe I will pass out. Because my life is so exciting I can hardly stand it. :)
Friday, February 01, 2008
Trapped on the Train
I had every intention of writing a post last night, but it had to wait until this morning. See, Neil was over until about 10:30, and then by the time we cleaned up, I was already up late and I didn't even do anything. I thought I might post while he was here, but it turned out not to be that kind of party, and then I thought I might have some time before he got here...but that was also thwarted because I was trapped on the train.
Can I just say that, since I read World War Z -ON THE TRAIN, getting trapped on the train is my own personal nightmare. Seriously, if the zombies get me, it will be on the Northeast Corridor. Last night, I got a seat right away, which was good, but it was next to a guy eating peanuts, which was bad.
Princeton Junction:
Peanuts are stinky. Do not eat them on the train. Also, tuna. Thank you.
Your BFFs,
Hamilton and Trenton
Well, whatever. It's not like I'm allergic to peanuts. Although every time I see people eating them on the train, I think about all those kids who may or may not have airborne peanut allergies so their moms have the whole school made "peanut free." What the eff happens if they get on the train? Specifically, I would like to see a barroom-style brawl between one of the entitled peanut-munchers and one of the entitled yuppie moms who drag 6 kids in to New York during rush hour.
As long as there are no zombies.
Moving right along, because we were, the train comes to a complete stop. Then the conductor comes on to announce that a train in front of us has broken down at Princeton Junction, so we're stuck until they fix it. An hour later, I was home. I wish it were a better story than that, but other than breaking the Commuter Code of Silence, people were pretty cool. And no one broke The Code to yell or anything, so I am cool with that.
So that is why I came home to find two mystified boys standing in my kitchen, trying to figure out how to get a ball of pizza dough into a pan. They were looking for the rolling pin when I intervened.
Can I just say that, since I read World War Z -ON THE TRAIN, getting trapped on the train is my own personal nightmare. Seriously, if the zombies get me, it will be on the Northeast Corridor. Last night, I got a seat right away, which was good, but it was next to a guy eating peanuts, which was bad.
Princeton Junction:
Peanuts are stinky. Do not eat them on the train. Also, tuna. Thank you.
Your BFFs,
Hamilton and Trenton
Well, whatever. It's not like I'm allergic to peanuts. Although every time I see people eating them on the train, I think about all those kids who may or may not have airborne peanut allergies so their moms have the whole school made "peanut free." What the eff happens if they get on the train? Specifically, I would like to see a barroom-style brawl between one of the entitled peanut-munchers and one of the entitled yuppie moms who drag 6 kids in to New York during rush hour.
As long as there are no zombies.
Moving right along, because we were, the train comes to a complete stop. Then the conductor comes on to announce that a train in front of us has broken down at Princeton Junction, so we're stuck until they fix it. An hour later, I was home. I wish it were a better story than that, but other than breaking the Commuter Code of Silence, people were pretty cool. And no one broke The Code to yell or anything, so I am cool with that.
So that is why I came home to find two mystified boys standing in my kitchen, trying to figure out how to get a ball of pizza dough into a pan. They were looking for the rolling pin when I intervened.
Friday, January 11, 2008
I am so sleepy right now...and it's not even 10 a.m. (Of course it will be by the time I get around to posting this, but you will just have to trust that I wrote it down by the station early in the morning...)
Like the good little girl I am, I got on an early, early train with Matt this morning. He had an interview in New York at 9 a.m., and he was nervous that he wouldn't make it in time if we took my usual 7:17. So I agreed to get on the 6:56 with him so he would be less nervous and we could save $6 on parking. Which is fine...except we actually made it in earlier than I anticipated, and we got on the 6:46...so I got here before 7:30. And now I am so tired. Normally, I would leave early...except we have an off-site meeting this afternoon, so I can't even do that. Matt seemed to appreciate the company, so it is ok. Anyway, it's not like I have a very taxing afternoon. I just have to be awake enough to participate in any presentations that require it and to avoid zoning out on the rest.
It's making my whole week go faster. I feel like this is the longest week I've had in a while, so I've been looking forward to the prospect of getting out for a little bit this afternoon. Next week I have a few interesting meetings (a shower and a team meeting...which I know doesn't sound very interesting, but sometimes they are) and then the next week I have a day off, so yay!
Less yay-inducingly, Matt will be away for most of next week. I will miss him, and I'll have to drive to Philly at times when I should be asleep, so I'm not really looking forward to this trip...except that Matt might get a job offer out of it, and that would be very good for both of us. I think he's getting a little discouraged. Not that I think he should - the jobs he really wants are still on the table - but he'll feel better once he has an offer in hand. And it sounds like he may get that next week, so that will be good. Also, a few of these interview processes are dragging out for
months now, and I think he's starting to get a bad feeling about them...even though the companies have assured him that they like him. So I don't know.
Like the good little girl I am, I got on an early, early train with Matt this morning. He had an interview in New York at 9 a.m., and he was nervous that he wouldn't make it in time if we took my usual 7:17. So I agreed to get on the 6:56 with him so he would be less nervous and we could save $6 on parking. Which is fine...except we actually made it in earlier than I anticipated, and we got on the 6:46...so I got here before 7:30. And now I am so tired. Normally, I would leave early...except we have an off-site meeting this afternoon, so I can't even do that. Matt seemed to appreciate the company, so it is ok. Anyway, it's not like I have a very taxing afternoon. I just have to be awake enough to participate in any presentations that require it and to avoid zoning out on the rest.
It's making my whole week go faster. I feel like this is the longest week I've had in a while, so I've been looking forward to the prospect of getting out for a little bit this afternoon. Next week I have a few interesting meetings (a shower and a team meeting...which I know doesn't sound very interesting, but sometimes they are) and then the next week I have a day off, so yay!
Less yay-inducingly, Matt will be away for most of next week. I will miss him, and I'll have to drive to Philly at times when I should be asleep, so I'm not really looking forward to this trip...except that Matt might get a job offer out of it, and that would be very good for both of us. I think he's getting a little discouraged. Not that I think he should - the jobs he really wants are still on the table - but he'll feel better once he has an offer in hand. And it sounds like he may get that next week, so that will be good. Also, a few of these interview processes are dragging out for
months now, and I think he's starting to get a bad feeling about them...even though the companies have assured him that they like him. So I don't know.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
This is Tuesday's Post
So, last night I went to bed around 9. I didn't plan to. I didn't even feel tired. I just lay down and never got up. Of course that means that I didn't get anything done last night, and there were things that needed to be done, but I suppose I'll get to them tonight. BUT that means that I didn't post my blog entry for last night, and I apologize for that. I did write it. I just didn't post it. So there are two today. I did manage to sign up for the gym at work and cancel a credit card that I forgot I had until they sent me a new card (oops). I also remembered to call to check on the status of my monthly parking pass, which is key because the price of daily parking just increased by a dollar a day, which means that the difference between daily parking and monthly parking costs is roughly the same as my new gym membership. I've been told that you suddenly get your parking pass after you call them, so we'll see...
And then, just because Matt was being so sweet about taking my car for her check-up...I forgot to take his car this morning. I got to work, and I thought...hmmmm...I was supposed to do something this morning...then I called Matt and apologized, but he had already rescheduled Emmie's appointment. (My car's name is Emmie, in case you didn't catch that the first time.) So now I really can't forget to take Matt's car on Friday or he will kick me in the head.
In other exciting news, I got 7...yes 7...new assignments today. 5 of them are exactly the same flyer with one image changed, but oh well. It was exciting to get that little flurry of email.
And then, just because Matt was being so sweet about taking my car for her check-up...I forgot to take his car this morning. I got to work, and I thought...hmmmm...I was supposed to do something this morning...then I called Matt and apologized, but he had already rescheduled Emmie's appointment. (My car's name is Emmie, in case you didn't catch that the first time.) So now I really can't forget to take Matt's car on Friday or he will kick me in the head.
In other exciting news, I got 7...yes 7...new assignments today. 5 of them are exactly the same flyer with one image changed, but oh well. It was exciting to get that little flurry of email.
This is Wednesday's Post
Did anyone notice the new xerox logo? It's all lower case and has a cute red ball with a white X on it (obviously, this part of the logo is also a tchochke). In other words, the complete opposite of the previous all caps logo. I don't think it's a bad logo...I just think it's wrong for Xerox.
I see where they were going - I mean, they kind of beat you over the head with it - but if there was ever a brand that doesn't need to be cute and cuddly, it's Xerox. Also, if you were a company that made copying machines, wouldn't you want the logo with the cleanest lines? The one that would still look good when it had been copied a million times? Or would you go with the cute/cuddly lower case letters that are two copies away from being mushety-gook?
In other news, I am so annoyed at people not following their own procedures. Yesterday, I signed up for the gym at work. You sign up through the intranet, and then you're supposed to call them and set up a time for orientation. They give you an extension to call for this. Well, I signed up late yesterday, so I didn't call until this morning. In the meantime, the head of the gym sent out an email to me and 4-5 people who work in the gym. No text, just the confirmation that I joined the gym. I have no idea what that was about or why I was copied on that email. So I called the extension listed on the intranet. No one answered the phone, so I left a voicemail. A
half hour later, I got a call from the head of the gym saying that I have to call a different extension and talk to the girl who schedules things. Ok...because you can't put that extension on your own web page or give her the message to call me back? But, fine. So I call the other extension, the girl talks to me on speaker phone, which is seriously annoying, and she tells me that she's going to send out an email and I have to reply to that email to set up the appointment. This is fine. I have no problem with that. I actually would have preferred to handle the entire process over email, or, even better, from the same form I used to sign up. Since all new members have to go through orientation, it would seem like a good idea to have some kind of calendar function on the form, right? Even if it's just pick three days/times (monday morning, tuesday afternoon, wednesday lunch, etc...) but no.
So now I am annoyed that these people can't follow their own procedures and can't accomodate me when I make the effort to follow their procedures. I mean, I'm sorry, but I don't really want to call you. I don't want to talk to you. I just want you to leave me alone while I use this machine over here.
I see where they were going - I mean, they kind of beat you over the head with it - but if there was ever a brand that doesn't need to be cute and cuddly, it's Xerox. Also, if you were a company that made copying machines, wouldn't you want the logo with the cleanest lines? The one that would still look good when it had been copied a million times? Or would you go with the cute/cuddly lower case letters that are two copies away from being mushety-gook?
In other news, I am so annoyed at people not following their own procedures. Yesterday, I signed up for the gym at work. You sign up through the intranet, and then you're supposed to call them and set up a time for orientation. They give you an extension to call for this. Well, I signed up late yesterday, so I didn't call until this morning. In the meantime, the head of the gym sent out an email to me and 4-5 people who work in the gym. No text, just the confirmation that I joined the gym. I have no idea what that was about or why I was copied on that email. So I called the extension listed on the intranet. No one answered the phone, so I left a voicemail. A
half hour later, I got a call from the head of the gym saying that I have to call a different extension and talk to the girl who schedules things. Ok...because you can't put that extension on your own web page or give her the message to call me back? But, fine. So I call the other extension, the girl talks to me on speaker phone, which is seriously annoying, and she tells me that she's going to send out an email and I have to reply to that email to set up the appointment. This is fine. I have no problem with that. I actually would have preferred to handle the entire process over email, or, even better, from the same form I used to sign up. Since all new members have to go through orientation, it would seem like a good idea to have some kind of calendar function on the form, right? Even if it's just pick three days/times (monday morning, tuesday afternoon, wednesday lunch, etc...) but no.
So now I am annoyed that these people can't follow their own procedures and can't accomodate me when I make the effort to follow their procedures. I mean, I'm sorry, but I don't really want to call you. I don't want to talk to you. I just want you to leave me alone while I use this machine over here.
This is Monday's Post...
Well, the chair has arrived, and it's actually pretty good. I don't think I'll be sitting in it any time soon, or possibly ever, but the cats love love love it, and it's nice to have a seat by another outlet. (Our couch blocks one of the outlets in our living room, so when Matt wants to work
from home - which is often - he has to sit at the far end of the couch by the window. It gets kind of cold.) It's still leather, which is kind of eww, and it's really soft, which I don't like. I feel like I'm going to fall out of it. But, it's much smaller than anticipated, so that is good. It's not taking up the whole living room. And it's versatile enough. I mean, it matches ok with our living room furniture, but we could move it to
the office or a rec room if we had the room for it.
I was actually in a pretty good mood this morning - even though Tiki woke us up at 5 and I forgot my badge, which is kind of an awful process. Unlike Covance, I can't just sign myself in and get a visitor's badge. Here, I have to stand by the front desk while they take my picture, which they print onto this sticker that I guess I'm supposed to wear, and then I have to get someone to come down and get me. I'm supposed to get a manager from my department to do that, but they're not always in when I get here, so that means that I just call the people who get in early. Luckily, today Karen saw me on her way in, so she got me. It's so stupid. I mean, once I have the stupid sticker, I can just walk through the gate. I show them ID and tell them my supervisor's name and mail stop to go on the sticker, so I don't know why I can't just get on the elevator myself. Oh well. I've only forgotten my badge twice, so it's not like this is constantly annoying me. Nevertheless, I am in a good mood today, and that counts for a lot.
The company sponsored a free coffee day today, so I am now enjoying my free coffee, which I would have bought anyway since Monday is usually 50 cent coffee day. So that is nice. They also have a hat/glove vendor downstairs, so I'm thinking about getting some gloves. We'll see. The gloves I have to go with my warmest coat are angora, and it's just not practical. I mean, I have the greatest chance of needing to clear off my car when I'm wearing that coat, so those gloves see the most wet work. I need something a little more substantial. I also can't find the gloves that go with my dress coat. I may have thrown them out and forgotten about them. My grandma gave them to me for my birthday, and they were chenille, so you can imagine how well they held up. I know I went through two pairs of them last year (coincidentally? Grandma gave my mother an identical pair for Christmas, so when mine got a hole, she gave me hers.)
This week will go by quickly, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing. I don't have much to do at work, but I'm hoping to start on the next issue of the women's health magazine this week (I need to wait for the disease management team to approve article topics, which should happen tomorrow or Wednesday). We have an in-service day Thursday, so I know I'll be busy all that day. Matt is leaving for CA on Sunday, which is not so nice. He has interviews on Monday and Tuesday, so that's good for him, but it's still rough. I'm used to having him here. And I'm really not looking forward to driving him to the airport at 5 a.m. on Sunday. I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't even go to bed Saturday night. (Who am I kidding? That can only lead to disaster.) But that will probably make the weekend fly by.
from home - which is often - he has to sit at the far end of the couch by the window. It gets kind of cold.) It's still leather, which is kind of eww, and it's really soft, which I don't like. I feel like I'm going to fall out of it. But, it's much smaller than anticipated, so that is good. It's not taking up the whole living room. And it's versatile enough. I mean, it matches ok with our living room furniture, but we could move it to
the office or a rec room if we had the room for it.
I was actually in a pretty good mood this morning - even though Tiki woke us up at 5 and I forgot my badge, which is kind of an awful process. Unlike Covance, I can't just sign myself in and get a visitor's badge. Here, I have to stand by the front desk while they take my picture, which they print onto this sticker that I guess I'm supposed to wear, and then I have to get someone to come down and get me. I'm supposed to get a manager from my department to do that, but they're not always in when I get here, so that means that I just call the people who get in early. Luckily, today Karen saw me on her way in, so she got me. It's so stupid. I mean, once I have the stupid sticker, I can just walk through the gate. I show them ID and tell them my supervisor's name and mail stop to go on the sticker, so I don't know why I can't just get on the elevator myself. Oh well. I've only forgotten my badge twice, so it's not like this is constantly annoying me. Nevertheless, I am in a good mood today, and that counts for a lot.
The company sponsored a free coffee day today, so I am now enjoying my free coffee, which I would have bought anyway since Monday is usually 50 cent coffee day. So that is nice. They also have a hat/glove vendor downstairs, so I'm thinking about getting some gloves. We'll see. The gloves I have to go with my warmest coat are angora, and it's just not practical. I mean, I have the greatest chance of needing to clear off my car when I'm wearing that coat, so those gloves see the most wet work. I need something a little more substantial. I also can't find the gloves that go with my dress coat. I may have thrown them out and forgotten about them. My grandma gave them to me for my birthday, and they were chenille, so you can imagine how well they held up. I know I went through two pairs of them last year (coincidentally? Grandma gave my mother an identical pair for Christmas, so when mine got a hole, she gave me hers.)
This week will go by quickly, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing. I don't have much to do at work, but I'm hoping to start on the next issue of the women's health magazine this week (I need to wait for the disease management team to approve article topics, which should happen tomorrow or Wednesday). We have an in-service day Thursday, so I know I'll be busy all that day. Matt is leaving for CA on Sunday, which is not so nice. He has interviews on Monday and Tuesday, so that's good for him, but it's still rough. I'm used to having him here. And I'm really not looking forward to driving him to the airport at 5 a.m. on Sunday. I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't even go to bed Saturday night. (Who am I kidding? That can only lead to disaster.) But that will probably make the weekend fly by.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Devious
My cats are most sneaky.
Shadow had a UTI a few weeks ago, and she's still eating prescription cat food, so we have to feed them separately. I feed Shadow where their dish has always been (I didn't want to disrupt her routine too much since she had to switch foods.) and I feed Tiki in the office. Tiki watches me feed Shadow, and then she trots after me to get her food. They were both happy with this arrangement until last night, when Tiki suddenly developed a keen interest in Shadow's food. I kind of hoped that this was a one-time thing, but then I discovered Shadow over at Tiki's bowl, munching Tiki's food. *sigh* So I picked up their bowls and hoped for the best.
When I fed them this morning, Tiki didn't follow me into the office to munch her food. So I was Suspicious. And sure enough, five minutes later, she sticks her paw in Shadow's dish and shovels a piece of food in her mouth - Shadow-style. (I don't know if I've ever told you about that, but
Shadow is a very messy eater. She can't just stick her head in the bowl like a normal cat. No, she scoops up a piece of food in her mouth, drops it on her paw and shoves it back in her mouth. Food gets "lost" at every step of this process. It was worse when we kept her bowl in the kitchen because she would wind up scooting it all over the place and pushing food under the congoleum. Now we keep it on the carpet so she can't move it, and we just have to vaccuum up the stray pieces of food.) So I pick Tiki up and put her in front of her food, and she sticks her little face in her bowl...and five minutes later, she's back at Shadow's dish. So this time, after I put her
in the office, I shut the door. Well, Tiki was not happy with that. She started crying and crying, but I figured I'd go in there with her once I was ready for work and then she'd calm down...so I went about my business getting ready. And when I emerged, not more than 10 min. later, the door is wide open and Tiki is sitting in the hall staring at me.
So here's the thing...Tiki has never figured out how to open doors. She just scratches on them and cries until someone opens them. Alternatively, she'll sit next to Shadow and let Shadow open the door. (Shadow just gets up on her hind legs and leans on the door until it swings open. She can only do this trick in the winter when the doors don't close too tightly. You would think that, after watching Shadow do this a few times, Tiki would catch on, but notsomuch.) Plus the office door opens inward. So then I thought Shadow busted her out! She heard Tiki crying and she opened the door. She is so defiant! She's like "Haha, Mommy! Shadow shows you!"
Only then when Matt fed them tonight, he repeated the experiment, and Tiki got out while Shadow was in the other room. So then we tried it one more time and we both watched the door.
First Tiki cried. Then we saw a little paw slide under the door and hook up and pull. (No, I'm not kidding, and, yes, it looked fake.) This happened a couple times, until it attracted Shadow's attention and she started batting at Tiki's paw. Then Tiki backed off until Shadow lost interest again and left. By this time, the door was open a few inches, but not enough for Tiki to fit through, so she continued the paw/hook routine on the side of the door until it swung open.
Sneaky Tiki! She's only playing dumb. I'll have to watch her more carefully from now on.
Shadow had a UTI a few weeks ago, and she's still eating prescription cat food, so we have to feed them separately. I feed Shadow where their dish has always been (I didn't want to disrupt her routine too much since she had to switch foods.) and I feed Tiki in the office. Tiki watches me feed Shadow, and then she trots after me to get her food. They were both happy with this arrangement until last night, when Tiki suddenly developed a keen interest in Shadow's food. I kind of hoped that this was a one-time thing, but then I discovered Shadow over at Tiki's bowl, munching Tiki's food. *sigh* So I picked up their bowls and hoped for the best.
When I fed them this morning, Tiki didn't follow me into the office to munch her food. So I was Suspicious. And sure enough, five minutes later, she sticks her paw in Shadow's dish and shovels a piece of food in her mouth - Shadow-style. (I don't know if I've ever told you about that, but
Shadow is a very messy eater. She can't just stick her head in the bowl like a normal cat. No, she scoops up a piece of food in her mouth, drops it on her paw and shoves it back in her mouth. Food gets "lost" at every step of this process. It was worse when we kept her bowl in the kitchen because she would wind up scooting it all over the place and pushing food under the congoleum. Now we keep it on the carpet so she can't move it, and we just have to vaccuum up the stray pieces of food.) So I pick Tiki up and put her in front of her food, and she sticks her little face in her bowl...and five minutes later, she's back at Shadow's dish. So this time, after I put her
in the office, I shut the door. Well, Tiki was not happy with that. She started crying and crying, but I figured I'd go in there with her once I was ready for work and then she'd calm down...so I went about my business getting ready. And when I emerged, not more than 10 min. later, the door is wide open and Tiki is sitting in the hall staring at me.
So here's the thing...Tiki has never figured out how to open doors. She just scratches on them and cries until someone opens them. Alternatively, she'll sit next to Shadow and let Shadow open the door. (Shadow just gets up on her hind legs and leans on the door until it swings open. She can only do this trick in the winter when the doors don't close too tightly. You would think that, after watching Shadow do this a few times, Tiki would catch on, but notsomuch.) Plus the office door opens inward. So then I thought Shadow busted her out! She heard Tiki crying and she opened the door. She is so defiant! She's like "Haha, Mommy! Shadow shows you!"
Only then when Matt fed them tonight, he repeated the experiment, and Tiki got out while Shadow was in the other room. So then we tried it one more time and we both watched the door.
First Tiki cried. Then we saw a little paw slide under the door and hook up and pull. (No, I'm not kidding, and, yes, it looked fake.) This happened a couple times, until it attracted Shadow's attention and she started batting at Tiki's paw. Then Tiki backed off until Shadow lost interest again and left. By this time, the door was open a few inches, but not enough for Tiki to fit through, so she continued the paw/hook routine on the side of the door until it swung open.
Sneaky Tiki! She's only playing dumb. I'll have to watch her more carefully from now on.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
My Glorious Morning
By the time I (finally) got home last night, I was starving. Starveling, as my mom would say. And all I could think of was mac n cheese. Now, Matt had bought some brie for new year's, which I hadn't eaten, but he had tasted it and said it tasted a little like broccoli. I thought that was pretty gross but figured that once it was melted, I wouldn't notice it, and I added some broccoli, just to be sure. I also obsessively tried to look up any bacteria/food poisoning candidates that smell like broccoli, but I had no luck. I did find a few cheese aficionado blogs where they described a cheese as tasting like broccoli, so I figured it was fine. (I also found a lot of fart jokes, but you already knew that, right?)
Anyway, I made the mac n cheese, and it was delicious. I didn't notice any weird broccoli taste...and then later that night, I opened the refrigerator and the whole thing smelled like broccoli, which seemed to emanate from the cheese, so I threw it out. That's when I started to feel worried for my health, but, hey, Matt had eaten it the night before and he didn't get sick. I'm probably just paranoid about a stinky cheese.
And then three hours later I was sick as a dog. So, while I was waiting for my heating pad to, well, heat, between trips to the bathroom, I asked my darling husband if he felt sick at all after he ate the brie.
"Oh, yeah." he said. "All day." So, why didn't you throw it out? "What do you mean? Didn't we throw it out?" Yes. After I ate it.
So now, I have the after effects of what I hope is a minor case of food poisoning, but I dragged myself in to work, even though I feel like ass, and then there was some kind of Great Train Disaster this morning, and I was standing on the platform for about a half hour, and it was about 10-15 degrees out, so lovely balmy weather, waiting for a train...because there was a downed wire...again. Just like last night, only colder and with less shelter. I really bundled up today because the last block of my commute is some kind of wind tunnel, so I was mostly fine, except for my feet. Maybe I need to invest in some fUggs or something. I don't know, but I was dancing back and forth to break contact with the ground. (That is a little trick/old wives tale I learned back when I used to be a semi-professional Christmas caroller. One of the other women would always bring these rug samples for everyone to stand on. At the time, I didn't find it too helpful, but kicking certainly helped me today.) So this delightful display was followed by almost 2 hours on the freaking train. Sitting between two women who decided to eat their stinky lunches on the train, which was pretty fabulous. I tried to read for a while, but then I was too cranky, so I just played games on my phone for a while, and then I stared out the window for a while. I left the house before 7, and I got to work around 9:30. That's OK, though, because one of the women in my office left her house around 6 because her son was trying to take the train to the airport, and then, after 2 hours on the train, they found out that all trains to the airport were cancelled. So he had to go to the Newark station and find a bus to the airport. (Luckily, some nice NJ Transit employee escorted them to the proper bus. Otherwise, who knows what would have happened.) Good morning, huh?
BUT...I only waited about 3 minutes for my train coming home, and then I got a 3-seater to myself, so that's a little better. It doesn't make up for the last two commutes, but it was a nice gesture.
Anyway, I made the mac n cheese, and it was delicious. I didn't notice any weird broccoli taste...and then later that night, I opened the refrigerator and the whole thing smelled like broccoli, which seemed to emanate from the cheese, so I threw it out. That's when I started to feel worried for my health, but, hey, Matt had eaten it the night before and he didn't get sick. I'm probably just paranoid about a stinky cheese.
And then three hours later I was sick as a dog. So, while I was waiting for my heating pad to, well, heat, between trips to the bathroom, I asked my darling husband if he felt sick at all after he ate the brie.
"Oh, yeah." he said. "All day." So, why didn't you throw it out? "What do you mean? Didn't we throw it out?" Yes. After I ate it.
So now, I have the after effects of what I hope is a minor case of food poisoning, but I dragged myself in to work, even though I feel like ass, and then there was some kind of Great Train Disaster this morning, and I was standing on the platform for about a half hour, and it was about 10-15 degrees out, so lovely balmy weather, waiting for a train...because there was a downed wire...again. Just like last night, only colder and with less shelter. I really bundled up today because the last block of my commute is some kind of wind tunnel, so I was mostly fine, except for my feet. Maybe I need to invest in some fUggs or something. I don't know, but I was dancing back and forth to break contact with the ground. (That is a little trick/old wives tale I learned back when I used to be a semi-professional Christmas caroller. One of the other women would always bring these rug samples for everyone to stand on. At the time, I didn't find it too helpful, but kicking certainly helped me today.) So this delightful display was followed by almost 2 hours on the freaking train. Sitting between two women who decided to eat their stinky lunches on the train, which was pretty fabulous. I tried to read for a while, but then I was too cranky, so I just played games on my phone for a while, and then I stared out the window for a while. I left the house before 7, and I got to work around 9:30. That's OK, though, because one of the women in my office left her house around 6 because her son was trying to take the train to the airport, and then, after 2 hours on the train, they found out that all trains to the airport were cancelled. So he had to go to the Newark station and find a bus to the airport. (Luckily, some nice NJ Transit employee escorted them to the proper bus. Otherwise, who knows what would have happened.) Good morning, huh?
BUT...I only waited about 3 minutes for my train coming home, and then I got a 3-seater to myself, so that's a little better. It doesn't make up for the last two commutes, but it was a nice gesture.
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