She-actually-posted-something Friday!

OH HI!  Yeah, I get it.  I’ve been neglectful.  I’m trying so hard to shove AP Style into my brain and figure out all of the acronyms at my new job that it really doesn’t leave much time for anything else.  Life is hard when you’re the fucking new guy.  People ask me questions all the time because you know, I’m the communications person and should have some answers but it’s more like– let me get back to you on that one OMFG what the hell did they just say to me?!  I haven’t hung up on a reporter in weeks though, so I’ve got that going for me.

A couple of things:

- We are having an office Thanksgiving luncheon today, which sounds delicious, followed by a 3PM staff meeting.  Who does that?  Do you really expect me to make it through an hour long staff meeting in a food coma?  Poor planning.  I’m contributing the following from Smitten Kitchen, which is delicious and makes you seem classy when all you actually did was open some cans.  Minus the walnuts because they’re gross.

Alex’s Mother’s Cranberry Sauce

1 15-ounce can jellied cranberry sauce
1 15-ounce can whole-berry cranberry sauce
1 bag frozen mixed berries, not defrosted
1 handful chopped walnuts
 

- I’ve been biking or walking to and from work these days and there have been varying results.  Like I’m way into book tapes now.  I listened to The Psychopath Test: A Journey Through the Madness Industry by Jon Ronson a couple weeks ago and it was awesome.  I was convinced about half way through that most the people I know were psychopaths and that I was suddenly a licensed psychologist.  Turns out neither is true.

Mr. Robson as a narrator sounded very British and soothing.  It was lovely.  Now I’m listening to Michael Chabon’s new book Telegraph Avenue and the narrator’s voice is so annoying it’s hard to focus.  I’ve got like 18 more hours left.  Oy.

- The second thing is I’ve lost like 6 pounds.  Also seemingly an awesome thing until you’re trying to put a big girl suit on for a big girl meeting and your dress pants are falling off your hips before you can get a belt on.  I keep telling everyone about my dilemma and everyone keeps saying “congratulations!” and I keeping saying “NONE OF MY CLOTHES FIT ME!”  And I’m furious about it.  Solution: McDonald’s Big Macs.  Kidding.  Kind of.

- My dad came back from Nepal, which is great because taking care of the turtles totally stressed me out.  I was convinced I was going to accidentally kill one of them and I’d never be forgiven.  I’m fairly certain I’d be in less trouble if I was brought home in handcuffs.  And I certainly wasn’t interested in testing that theory.

- Thanksgiving is next week!  All of my favorite boys will descend upon the great District of Columbia– my brothers Tim and Jack and friendly companion Barrington– for a weekend full of making my work clothes fit again, drinking, bonding and if Barrington has anything to do with it, 4 solid hours in the Museum of Natural History in which, based on previous experience, he reads every single word describing every single artifact and I am bored out of my mind and exceptionally hungover.  Or maybe not since we’ve already done that.  Barrington is over 6 feet tall and has promised to get into a Smart Car.  Huge win.

- I bought a bed at Ikea last weekend.  A real grown up bed.  Potentially high risk since I had some leftover screws and parts, but y’all know me, I’m a risk taker.  Keep you posted on that one.  One of my board members told me last week that the only way to go in life was American made.  And in the case of furntiture, the Amish know where it’s at.  “My wife and I just bought a new bedroom set from the Amish,” he said, “nice people, excellent craftsmanship.”

“Sir,” I responded, “I’m 25.  I’m still way into what the Swedes can produce.”  Although I did hate them every second I was looking at their stupid directions.

I hope everyone has a lovely weekend.  I will be shoveling ramen noodles into my face tonight (slurping noodles into my mouth at rapid speed– the sexiest date idea ever or what?) and then considering attacking my piles of laundry while watching Nashville.  Because I’m not even ashamed how much I like that show.

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