Monthly Archives: February 2012

Hey girl HEY!


I bought a Clarisonic Mia yesterday, which is the single most high-maintenance purchase I’ve ever made in my life.  But as a girl who has had a continual throw down with my skin since puberty hit, money is no object.  Most women look longingly at other women’s big breasts or thin frame.  I look at other women and think– oh, to have pores that small.

I was sitting around with the frat boys last night when I pulled my new very expensive face washer out of the box and started to read the directions.  Hearing the sound of the vibrating brush head they looked at me in confusion and started to make jokes that I was actually reading the directions for a different variety of vibrating accessory that women own.

The jerks.  They can make fun all they want.  But they’ll be jealous when my skin is radiant and glowing.  GLOWING.


There were underage kids at the bar Saturday night—which shall remain nameless in order to save the Georgetown students’ local spot.  The frat boys + company and I had been drinking dollar beers mostly uninterrupted since early evening, so I was surprised when the bouncer gave me a paper wristband to designate that I was over 21 around 9PM.

And if on cue, they swarmed– baby faced boys and girls WAY overdressed considering that this particular bar is about as divey as it gets.  In the course of five minutes, I had been approached and talked at by a 20 year old that wanted to discuss his future professional baseball career and a 17 year old who asked for repeated confirmation that his yellow button down shirt was “so fresh”.

Let’s be real– I was drinking in the bar at a very young age as well, but I couldn’t believe how young these kids looked.  And yes, I’m sure I looked that young once, but damn!  I very promptly left said dive bar and made my way to H Street to drink with the grown-ups.


I was a jerk and forgot Josephina’s birthday.  And she in turn had a really crap day.  So, my dear girl, I dedicate this very adorable picture to you.


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And that’s a wrap!

We’ve wrapped the board meeting– the office is in shambles (there is literally paper everywhere), we’re mostly dead on our feet and I’m fairly certain the knot in my shoulder has doubled in size over the last 3 days, but damn if it wasn’t a success.  Mid-way through the second day of any board meeting it is all Bree and I can do to keep our shit together.  5AM alarm clocks don’t do either of us right and the combination of stress and anxiety and pressure and 12 hour days and keeping 45 million balls in the air result in straight slap happy conversations.

Stupid shit that happened because we were so damn tired:

-By pure default and dumb luck, I ended up with a room at the very fancy hotel where our board meeting was held Wednesday night.  When I checked out Thursday morning after 4 1/2 hours of sleep the concierge address me by name, which kind of weirded me out.  How the hell did he know my name?!  I walked back to the meeting space and said as much to Bree.  “Ah, you’re wearing a name tag,” she said.

-There was a huge curtain across one of the walls in the ballroom of the hotel.  Bree decided to very slowly peek around the curtain around 6AM yesterday morning to see what was behind it.  What she saw caused her to shriek and jump back with alarm– it was a mirror.  The scary shit was just herself.

-Two new board members who work for super fancy companies showed up an hour late for a meeting on the first day.  It was the first board meeting either had attended, so Bree introduced herself when they came down the stairs.

Bree:  Hi, you must be so-and-so and so-and-so.  I’m Bree.

So-and-so #1:  How did you know who we were?

Bree:  Oh, I’ve been looking at your pictures.

AWKWARD SILENCE.  For the record, we printed about 100 million copies of their bios and photographers.  Bree wasn’t google stalking them.

-American Airlines changed the Boss Man’s flight time, so he had about 2 hours between when the meeting ended and his flight took off.  I went into moderate panic when I discovered the 40 minute departure change*, firmly established it wasn’t my fault and then morphed into problem solving mode.  I called the taxi company, prepped the boss and called his wife to fill her in.  He was getting out of town come hell or high water.

His wife met him at the hotel with their luggage and a change of clothes, he switched from his suit to jeans, I handed off the boarding passes and he handed me his suit to take back to the office.  I was a little confused as to why I was holding my boss’ dry cleaning, but was rolling with it in order to get him out of town.

His suit was precariously hung on the hanger– causing the pants to fall off the second I walked back into the hotel.  Pants that I then tripped on.  When I bent over I pick up the pants, I then dropped the folders I was holding.  I scooped up everything, walked over to the male concierge and said– HELP ME.  It was a special moment for the two of us as he helped me get the suit back on the hanger.  We then high fived for going above and beyond.

The moral of this story– don’t you want Bree and I to plan your parties?  Or at least be our friends?  Have a good weekend y’all.  I’ll be back (hopefully well rested with my shit together) bright and early Monday morning.

*The circle of an executive assistant”s grief– holy shit!  Is this my fault?  No, it isn’t my fault.  Do I have proof this isn’t my fault?  Is the boss going to kill me anyway?  Can I fix it?  GO!

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Board meeting t…

Board meeting this week, y’all.  Be back towards the end of the week at the latest.  Word to your mothers.

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February 20, 2012 · 4:30 pm

Sick Girl

I hate being sick
although I love pop*
so I guess it’s not so bad you see
but I can’t come out and play with you
so I guess being sick gives me the blues

*My mom only allowed us to drink pop when we were sick.

I wrote that really adorable (and kind of pathetic)  poem when I was like 8 years old and home sick from school.  I still get it stuck in my head whenever I come down with something.  We’re a week out from our board meeting, so I really don’t have time for this sniffles business.  I’ve waged a full scale attack against my cold– Vicam, Dayquil, Pseudoephed, vitamins, orange juice, hot tea, water and Advil– and I shall win!

I was convinced for most of college that any form of illness could be cured with an Airbourned laced screwdriver at the local pub (it made sense at the time– vodka to kill the germs, orange juice for the vitamin C, with an Airbourne kicker).  I’ve modified my health regime somewhat since then but I’m still not quite at what normal people refer to as “calling in sick”.

And of course– this is all my mother’s fault.  She firmly has a “walk it off” theory to both injury and illness.  My cousin Nellie broke her leg once when she slipped and fell on our front porch.  My mom told her to ice it.  Unless we were bleeding, vomiting profusely or had a really really high temperature, we were going to school.  And it is safe to assume that everyone is faking it (sick– that is).

I stayed home sick from work once last year when I had a nasty cold, a sore throat and generally felt like I was dying.  I felt so guilty about calling in (what if they thought I was faking it!?) that I walked a mile to the local CVS Minute Clinic in the middle of winter to get my throat assaulted with a q-tip.  When I called my mother that afternoon to tell her the test was negative, she asked if I was going to go into the office since I didn’t actually have strep.

And that is why I have severe sick-guilt.  And have only called in sick to work like 4 times in my life.  I feel that I should add that my mother was a nurse by profession for many years and in the case that you’re actually sick (and can prove it), she’s the best person in the whole world to have your bedside.  Sorry for calling you out, Mom.  Maybe I should lay off the cold medicine a bit.


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Happy Valentine’s Day!


I know most people either hate or love this holiday based on whether they’re single or attached.  The attached ones only love it if their significant others remember to do something nice and the singles ones only truly hate it when they have to look at the flowers everyone else got.  I personally don’t care either way, although I do enjoy that the holiday produces such bitter shit.

And extra hostile Facebook statuses like this one from a girl I went to college with:   Please don’t upload pictures of your flowers and chocolate and gifts to facebook.  I don’t care.  Instead, grow some self esteem so that you don’t need the confidence boost you get by uploading pointless pictures to facebook.  Happy valentines day everyone.

I am mostly stoked that I had an excuse to buy a shit ton of Sweetarts at CVS yesterday and no one will judge me when I eat the whole bag.  Well, they may judge me, but then they’ll remember I’m single and excuse my bad behavior.  Except my dentist– he’s going to be real pissed.  See that note at the bottom?   Give to friends!  That’s probably not going to happen.


It’s probably good I don’t have a hot date tonight as I’ve developed a wicked cold that I’m currently choosing to ignore/remedy by drinking liquid Dayquil out of the bottle.  We’re all pretty sick in the office it turns out.  Bree and I had a standard– hi, you look like shit, you look like shit too– conversation this morning.  Not to be mean, mind you, but to validate each others’ germs.


I’ll be home tonight with my favorite boys, Roommate A and Roommate B.  I’m positive they didn’t buy me flowers and chocolates but I can guarantee they’ll sit on the couch with me and my runny nose and ask me about my day and make fun of the way I pronounce “bag”.  And that ladies and gentlemen– is love.

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10 on Thursday: Confessions

1.  I stepped outside the other night to make a phone call and enjoy a double top secret contraband cigarette and as a result, successfully avoided the bludgeoning of rodents in my kitchen.  As I’m told:  Roommate B opened the pantry door and found mice (as in MORE THAN ONE) straight kicking it.  Roommate A came to Roommate B’s rescue (as Roommate B was unarmed) and beat the mice to death with a broom.

The issue was resolved and cleaned up by the time I returned back inside, with the mice resting peacefully in their paper bag grave in the trash, but I still got the heebie-jeebies.  Their exact exact size was never fully explained to me, but they were “old enough to bleed.”  Gross.

Being that witnessing the killing of multiple mice in my kitchen, where I prepare and eat food, would have sent me into a panic soothed most likely by a Parliament Light and another beer anyways, I’m calling that double top secret contraband cigarette a wash.  I dodged a bullet as far as I’m concerned.

2.  I’ve started to quiz my co-workers on my GRE vocab words in order to demonstrate how stupid these words are and avoid learning them myself.  As of this morning, the VP of Environment is 1 for 2.  I have a feeling that this will backfire.

3.  I was feeling pretty confident about the GRE math based on a practice quiz I printed off from the internets.  Now that I’ve actually cracked open the 100% Official GRE Study Book, shit is looking a little tougher than I thought.  I spent most of Wednesday night laying on my office floor with my head on the “medium difficulty” math section contemplating my future.  It’s not looking bright, guys.

4.  After about 25 minutes of a very vigorous zumba class with Brynn last night, I thought I was straight up going to fall over and die.  I didn’t realize how out of shape I actually was (thanks, Christmas) until I was half-heartily shaking my body like an octopus to convince both myself, and the instructor, that I was still both trying and paying attention.  I was not.

5.  You want to know who won at zumba class last night?  The skinny white dude in the front.  This guy and his chicken legs and bright white sneakers that squeaked like a mother fucker had sass, style and the routine down cold.  I’m not even ashamed to say he made the rest of us ladies look bad with his hip shaking and dramatic facial expressions.

6.  I ate Fro-Yo and goldfish crackers for dinner last night.  Because I’m a grown-up.

7.  There was this moment my second year of college that I still distinctly remember, speaking of ice cream.  Louisa and I were sitting around one night in our apartment (and what a lovely shit hole that place was) trying to figure out what to have for dinner.  When I settled on a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and a beer it occurred to me–HOLY SHIT, I AM AN ADULT.  Look what I’m having for dinner!  Take that, vegetables!

8.  I thought about this last night on the train and dissolved into a fit of giggles.  Pure genius.  I would like it to be known that over the course of my life, I have had many a polar fleece jacket, including a North Face and most recently, a bright blue one that looks like I skinned a Muppet.  Louisa will not be seen in public with me if I’m wearing it.  But it’s wind-stopper!

9.  This was this seemingly normal looking dude on the metro last night who took every thing out of his Whole Foods bag and inspected it.  And then shook it.  The flour, the crackers, the half and half.  He literally shook half and half from Metro Center to the Hill.  Then took off his shoe and inspected it.  I stared.  I couldn’t help myself.

10.  Song of the week– I’m embarrassed about how many times I made Brynn listen to this when we were driving to Manassas and back a couple times a week last summer.  And I’m equally ashamed right now.


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The human being who created this deserves a series of high fives.  I literally can’t stop laughing.  And for the record, polar fleece is the jam.



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Hot Date

Roommate B and I were discussing Former Roommate C’s wedding coming up in April and decided to be dates.  Well, I decided and he was too tired to argue.  I told him that as his date, I’d really appreciate a pretty corsage (a small and simple request, Brynn!) and our outfits to coordinate.  Roommate B replied, “that seems like a lot of work.  And do you have a dress that matches corduroy?”  It might have been our hangovers, but we thought that was pretty much the funniest thing in the whole world.

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Super Bowl Sunday

I watched the Super Bowl at a co-worker’s house last night and what I really mean is I spooned their cute baby and ate snacks.  Two very important Super Bowl party qualities given that I had no idea who was playing in the game until Sunday afternoon.  And I really didn’t care.

Baby C is probably one of the cutest babies in the whole world and I say this with a whole lot of seriousness, as most of my cousins who have incredibly adorable children of their own read my blog.  Guys, look at that face.

Baby C and I have spent have spent some quality time together since he came into the world– including one Friday afternoon I had skipped out of the office to sit on the couch with him and watch Soaps.  I had his mother’s sweatpants pulled on under my work dress, Baby C had my work dress in his mouth, 90210 was on.  Life was good.

I offered to put him to bed last night and he was 100% not pleased about this development.  Not only was there a super fun party going on downstairs, I was not his mother.  We managed to get the PJs on and the bottle finished without much fussing but then I stuck him in his crib and OH HELL NO, WOMAN.  He started to wail bloody murder.  Like the kind of crying that makes people think you stole the baby if you happen to be in public.

I heard my name being called from the downstairs during my weak attempts to rub his back and could only assume they thought I was torturing the small child, but no– I had correctly guessed the first beverage commercial of the Super Bowl and won a bottle of Hennessy.  Hennessy in one hand, baby in the other.  That’s how we do.

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Five on Friday

1.  My dad took me out to lunch Wednesday to a restaurant that has a special of the day.  As the waiter was describing the fish tacos, I looked at him and said, “but that’s Wednesday’s special and today is…oh hell, it’s Wednesday” and then put my head down.  This has felt like the never ending week.  4 more hours!

2.  My bosses are going to a trade show in a couple of weeks that involves a fancy banquet, as they tend to do.  The organizers have a couple seats to fill at one of the VIP tables and asked if I could send a list of my staff “in order of priority.”  I most certainly can.  Let the character judgements commence!

3.  Studying for the GRE has not been nearly as painful as I expected, although there have been some embarrassingly long pauses during my math tutoring (finally– working with a shit ton of nerds is beneficial).  How the hell am I suppose to remember the equation to find the volume of a cylinder?  Especially since I probably never knew it in the first place.

4.  I also get quizzed on my vocab every afternoon.  I’ve got FIVE HUNDRED vocabulary flashcards– mostly of words that I’ve never heard of.  For example, why the fuck would I know that abstemious means moderate in appetite.

5.  I recognize that I’m failing miserably in my quest to entertain you all as of late.  Work has been busy, life has been good–but uneventful–and therefore, I’ve been spending quite a bit of time staring at a blank page.  If you have something interesting to say, let me know!  Otherwise, someone scheme up some trouble for me because I’ve been staying home a lot.  And I’m not sorry about it.

Have a good weekend!


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