Tag Archives: Brynn

And Then I Broke Myself

I like to think I’m pretty tough.  My cousins and I have a knack for making all activities– whether it be the card game spoons or badminton– full contact.  I played rugby in college, which is essentially an exercise in getting the crap beat out of you.  I once fell off my bike in Costa Rica and cleaned the open wound in the ocean.  I was reared by the baddest woman I know.  I am tough as shit.  Or at least I thought I was.

A combination of lifting weights, a 3 hour DC walkabout with my a heavy purse across my right shoulder* and sleeping funny one night last week has left me with muscle spasms in my shoulder and upper back.  I’ve dealt with muscle knots before, as I like to carry my shoulders as close to my ears as possible (both generally for fun and when stressed) but this is pain like no other.

I started with the usual route– enough Advil to make me fear an ulcer, walking to the gym to sit in the hot tub and a small investment into Tiger Balm and Icy Hot.  I smelled terrible.  It hurt.  No matter which way I adjusted my body, I couldn’t get comfortable.  And a week later still can’t.

I spent the majority of Saturday evening sitting on my front porch with a bag of ice on my shoulder and Tiger Balm at my side.  We had plans to go to Policy on U Street Saturday night to celebrate Brynn’s birthday, so I wanted to make sure I was properly Tiger Balmed before we set out.  I was going to be a trooper.  Because Brynn’s pretty great and staying home wasn’t anymore comfortable than any other activities.

I even put on make up and high heels– pretty much for no reason.  Do YOU know how hard it is to pick up boys in a bar when you’re moving around like an old lady and smell of very minty feet?  Not easy.  By the end of the night, I was in enough pain to throw  public decency to the wind and just started lathering my shoulder up with Tiger Balm in the middle of the bar.  I was that much fun this weekend.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, I’d had enough and scheduled a doctor’s appointment.  So now I’m on muscle relaxers and some anti-inflammatory they usually give to old folks with arthritis*.  Let me tell you what it is like after you’ve taken 2 muscle relaxers at the office.

Talking to your superior:  Oh shit.  He’s talking to me.  What is he saying?  Ok.  Focus, focus, focus.  It’s your turn to respond now.  What did he say?  You need to respond.  RESPOND!  It is a lot like showing up to your high school Spanish class high.  Or what I assume it would be like to show up to your high school Spanish class high.

Sitting at your desk:  Really hard.

Keeping your eyes open:  Virtually impossible.

Other activities that are hard:  brushing your teeth, feeding yourself, holding up your ice cream cone, washing your hair, hugging, sitting at a desk all day, sitting anywhere for more then an hour when you’re expected to hold still, sleeping.

I’ve finally caved and scheduled a massage.  I’m fairly certain this woman is going to make me cry.  I’m putting all of my muscle spasm eggs in her basket.  I want her to work miracles.  I want her to be a muscle spasm goddess.  I jwant to sleep at night and be able to left my beer without searing pain.  Is that too much to ask?  I didn’t think so.

The moral of this story is this:  Don’t walk around town with bricks in your purse.  Get a super cute backpack like this one maybe.  Tiger Balm is a natural cockblock– if you’re on the market for one.  Muscle spasms blow.  And apparently, I’m not as tough as I thought.

* Most likely filled with bricks.




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Weekend Update

I was working!  I’m sorry!


The boss man had 12 performance reviews, 2 outside meetings, a conference call and lunch to attend to Friday.  I had him scheduled literally from one minute to the next.  I wasn’t sure when we were going to pencil in bathroom breaks.  This was for the whole enchilada.  Shit was going to get real.

I had prepped the rest of the staff the entire week with specific instructions– long winded people were told to be brief, tardy people were instructed to be on time, this-is-never-going-to-happen haters to step off.  I was in charge.  I was the boss of the office.  I was going to make shit happen.

And then first meeting didn’t even start on time.  I spent about 5 minutes really caring about my already fucked scheduled, poured myself another cup of coffee and opted for the win some – lose some attitude towards the day.  I’m happy to report that even though the meetings went off with many many hitches, they all got done.  And only 3 hours behind schedule.

While I contemplated losing my shit more times* then I’d like to admit, Bree patted me on the head throughout the day and rewarded my good behavior with a espresso vodka spiked latte at 5:30PM.  I had my review (and got a raise!), got dressed in my office (having time to run home before the black tie dinner – HA), put on some lipstick and got my 7th wind.

And I’ll remind you, we looked good.  Just as wearing a suit makes me feel like I’m playing dress up in my mother’s clothes, black tie affairs make me want to yell at the room full of grown-ups wearing tuxedos and ball gowns – TRICKED YOU!  I still eat Ramen noodles for dinner and call my mother “mommy” in public.  I’m not an adult!

Instead I smile, network, shake hands and make every effort to think before I speak– that is until I decide it’s a good idea to tell my CEO’s wife she’s a babe.  But I’m fairly certain she appreciated that overstep.


One of my oldest friends Kagan showed up in DC Saturday afternoon.  We’ve known each other since the 1st grade, or as we like to describe to people after many cocktails– we’ve known each other since we were both very ugly**.

Once we started drinking, Kagan and Roommate B feel into a magical bromance and spent the rest of the evening starting sentences with ” I know we’ve only known each other for 5 hours but…”.  It was adorable.


I ate the best omelet of all time– mashed potatoes, bacon, cheddar cheese and sour cream.  Go to Tunnicliff’s in Eastern Market IMMEDIATELY if you have never eaten the breakfast food straight from the heavens.

*I had been wide awake staring at the ceiling since 2AM.

**He had a rat tail.  I had very short hair that often got me mistaken for a boy– I wouldn’t let anyone brush it so they chopped it off.

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Question of the day

I’ll do the weekend update tomorrow because this is more important.  As I think I’ve mentioned, I have to go to a super fancy black tie dinner for work on Friday– something that I mostly forget about on a daily basis (do you know it’s December?!) until I’m reminded that I have to learn how to walk in my fancy girl high heels (making one big toe numb at this very moment) and have my dress dry cleaned.

I very kindly asked Brynn to be my date because she loves that type of shit and we all know I don’t have a boyfriend– real or imaginary– at this point.  Now Brynn and I have had MANY discussions about how nice a corsage would really bring my outfit together, yet she refuses to bring me one.  I think this is complete and total bullshit.  And I think you should agree with me.  Maybe hard numbers will change her mind.  Vote early, vote often!


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A series of things


My cousin’s 2 year old Josie has what has been dubbed “the look”.  The little one lowers her face, squints her eyes and purses her lips giving the victim a world famous glare.  I’m starting to think that having Josie around would make my life more efficient.  Instead of using my words to express my distaste in an individual, I will just direct Josie to give them “the look”.

Josie, that unattractive man is hitting on me.  Give him the look!

Josie, my boss wants me to do something stupid.  Give him the look!

Josie, my roommates left all their dishes in the sink.  Give them the look!

I really think it would be effective.  Like my own personal weapon of glaring destruction.  Missy, please send me your child.


K pulled a bag of salami out of the fridge last night and said in a mocking tone, “Rachel, you only have 3 slices of salami left.  What are you going to do?”  And then ate them.

“Oh, honey,” I said, “don’t be silly.”  And pulled a brand new bag out of the fridge.



I think he’s saying hello.  It is take your 1 year old to work day.


Today is Brynn’s last day at the office and I have resisted the urge to cry while rocking back and forth while she holds me and/or form tackle her and demand she stays all week.  I did step on her foot twice– both time wearing high heels– as a sign of my love and affection.  It was purely accidental.  I swear.

Brynn, we wish you the very best and hate your guts for leaving.  Who is going to listen to me talk about my feelings?  And hold me back when I try to beat the copy machine?  And find all the documents I can never find myself– even though you’ve found them for me 100 times before?  Be prepared to field my hysterical phone calls as I attempt to do your job.  I’ll miss you.

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I realized that I made a complete and utter asshole of myself Friday night by essentially stealing Brynn’s* thunder right out from under her.  When she told me she had accepted a job offer form another company, the first two words out of my mouth were literally CONGRATULATIONSMOTHERFUCKER!  Just like that.  (Please note that was not: Congratulations [comma] mother fucker, but Congratulations [period]  Mother fucker.  As in– what the hell am I going to do?)

We both have been job hunting for the past year– participating in the complete stress and self-esteem killing process of sending out resumes and cover letters and then being rejected.  It was always my intention to get out before Brynn did to avoid the whole– I might get a promotion!  Promotion?  Do I even want that job?  Do they even want me? situation that has been consuming my thoughts for the past week.  I never once occurred to me that it would come to this.  I never considered what would happen if she got another job before me.

Not that I in any way want to lessen or undermine Brynn’s commitment to her job hunt (which I think I am doing, despite that precursor), but I sent out more resumes than she did.  It was a numbers game and I thought my odds were better.  So when she was offered a job elsewhere and I had yet to be– I was stunned.  Incredibly excited for her, but stunned– which launched me into a confusing conundrum of what the hell I should do.

I said congratulations.  I said congratulations 100 times.  And I meant it.  But then spent the rest of the evening making her discuss what the hell she thought I should do and essentially– stealing her big celebratory night right out from under her feet.  I’m a big enough girl to recognize how inconsiderate I was and apologize, but there is something so frustrating about someone getting something that you so badly wanted.

I assume it is much like how people want to punch me in the face when I say stupid shit like “I’ve got a boyfriend!  He’s super awesome!” and they are single.  I wanted to punch people in the head when I was the single one– so I get it.

The same feelings are for this situation.  I am truly proud and happy and excited for what comes next in Brynn’s life.  But I am also frustrated, anxious and confused for myself.  I hate that I took any part in overshadowing what was her big news, but I also can’t stop hating the simple fact that is just wasn’t my time.  Because I’ve tried so mother fucking hard to get myself out of this place and it has yet to happen.  And of course it seems effortless!  (when I know in fact it wasn’t in any way) that she jumped her way on out of here.

So– the moral of today is that I’m an asshole.  Brynn apparently still loves me anyway.  And despite a year+ of job hunting– it just wasn’t my time.  It was hers.

*If I haven’t mentioned– Brynn is the executive assistant in my office.  I am the staff assistant.


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