The Chapter Ends

So today is my last day of work. Not forever, obviously, as I start my new job on Monday. But after almost four years, I am leaving my current company. My emotions are mixed, as I definitely have made great friends here, learned from an incredibly talented group of people, and had fun along the way. When I sent my contact information out to my co-workers yesterday, I included a list of top 10 memories. Of course, none of these would make any sense to you (unless you work with me) so I am not going to share them here. But there is one memory that I remembered after I sent the list, that continues to make me laugh.

Every year, my company has an event called Food Fest. Basically, it is a cooking competition where employees cook their favorite dishes and everyone samples the various food. People vote for their favorite dish, and the winner gets a gift certificate or something like that. Mind you, there are over 600 people at my company, so you need to get there within the first 15 minutes to get any food. In years past I made my chocolate chip banana bread and sesame chicken.

Anyway, a few years ago, on the day of Food Fest, a large group of us went to Blue Smoke for a co-workers going away lunch. As usual, we had way too many ribs, side dishes of mac & cheese, and chocolate cake. There were so many ribs left over that I dared my co-worker Dave to bring them back to the office and serve them in Food Fest, claiming he made them.

Next thing we knew, Dave had a serving dish full of "BS Family Ribs" out during Food Fest. And they were the talk of Food Fest. Everyone was asking, "did you try the ribs?" People were voting for the ribs; they were heading towards a Food Fest blue ribbon. And the eights of us that knew of the rib's true origin were dying.

Eventually Dave confessed to the judges that the ribs weren't really homemade. He was disqualified. But we all got a great story out of it.

Patrick

I'm on a first-name basis with the homeless man that lives in my neighborhood. Granted, the names uttered from his mouth include a range of various edible items, such as pumpkin, honey and sugar. However, I always say hello to Patrick when I see him.

You probably are wondering how I have come to know Patrick, and I wish there was more to the story. A few years ago, I was reading in a small park near my apartment, on a beautiful September Sunday. Patrick entered the park and inquired over the subject of my book. I proceeded to explain that Shadow Divers was about a group of recreational wreck divers that found an un-registered WWII German U-Boat. I probably lost him at the book title.

I wish I knew more about Patrick. Like where he sleeps every night. And how he ended up on the streets. I have a feeling he was quite intelligent in his former life.

But I think what really amazes me is that whenever I see Patrick, he is always smiling his toothless grin. Granted, he might be certifiable crazy, but I have to believe he is genuinely happy. All the guy has is the clothing on his back and his other homeless friends, but he probably appreciates the little things more than we do. Or at least more than I do.

Need Your Help, Please

So I have been enjoying my mini-dating break, focusing on the new job and new apartment. However, every once in a while I cave and window shop on jdate. Today was one of those days, and within a few minutes of being online, I received the following new message from SilverLiningA6C,

"i truly hope never to meet you... you sound like a complete douche bag. good day douche"

Now I am not one to normally get upset with things like this (who am I kidding, of course I am) but this was just cruel and not necessary. I had never looked at this loser's profile, never written him, and never flirted, eCarded, or Hot Listed this guy. His hate mail came out of nowhere.

I "reported this member" as I have no clue who he is so cutting off his balls is not an option. But I could use your help. If you are a member of jdate, please look at his profile and report him. He shouldn't be able to use the site if he is sending email like that. Also, feel free to email him and tell him that email like this is not a compensation for a small dick. Please tell your friends to do the same thing.

And for the record, I am not a douche bag.

Thanks!

The Opthomologist

I think I have more doctors than friends. Or maybe it's just that I see my doctors more than some of my friends. At least this week I do. With 7 more days of work left here, I scheduled appointment with all my doctors, in case they don't take the new health insurance that comes with the new job. So I have my annual physical on Friday and had an appointment with the icky doctor this morning. And no, I am not referring to the gyno or the dentist.

I went to the eye doctor.

Now, having had glasses since I was five years old, and contacts since I was fourteen, I have become accustom to seeing the opthomologist annually. Yet, over the years, I have never felt any more comfortable in their offices. There is something very creepy about staring into the doctors eyes, or staring at a weird spot on his ear while he stares into my eyes. Or worse, when he leans in closely to flip the lenses on that huge white machine, I can smell his breath and see his nose hairs. I seriously thought I was going to knee him in the balls this morning. Oh god, what if he had an erection?!

And if that's not bad enough, I always feel like I failed the test when I can't read those minuscule letters of the wall. The O looks like the D. Is that an A or an H?? Grrl. I got over 1200 on my SATs and yet I can't read 5 letters in a row. Even when the doctor says, "how 'bout now?" I still can never read the letters. And to make me feel better, the doctor rewards me with a free bottle of saline solution. Woo-hoo. I would rather have a fucking lollipop.

2/3

My life lives like a Meatloaf song. No, not Paradise by the Dashboard although there have been moments where I did feel like "praying for the end of time so I can end my time with you." However, the song I am currently referring to is Two out of Three Ain't Bad. For those of you at home keeping score:

1. New job
2. 99% approved for new apartment

Woo-hoo. In case you might have forgotten, I have decided to change my life in 2007. I felt very stagnant, having lived in the same neighborhood for almost 12 years, had the same job for almost 4, have been not married for 33 years. It was time for a new me, and I'm 2/3 of the way there.

Jewelry and Condoms

Pezguy420: Do you wear red/orange ever?
Me: not really
Me: why, are you setting me up with Ronald McDonald?
Pezguy420: I was thinking about it... but I heard the Hamburgler gives great cunnilingus, so I may send him your way instead.
Pezguy420: Any preference?
Pezguy420: Unless you're into purple - I heard Grimmus has a thick schlong
Me: I LOVE grimmus
Pezguy420: You will after he gets done with you
Pezguy420: Bowlegged for a week, from what I hear
Pezguy420: The reason I was asking about red... did I tell you my latest hobby?
Me: yes, knitting
Pezguy420: Well, I'll knit you a giant red/orange condom out of yarn for when you get it on with Grimmus
Me: nice
Pezguy420: (Don't worry - there's spermicidal agent interwoven in the thread)
Me: no, what is your hobby?
Pezguy420: Well.... this is going to probably push me over the straight/gay line into Greg Louganis land
Me: ok.... TELL
Pezguy420: I am starting to design jewelry
Me: SHUT UP
Pezguy420: So I ordered you a stone from South America
Me: sounds great
Pezguy420: So I am making some stuff for some friends
Me: very very cool Elton
Pezguy420: lol

Hang Tight

Sorry, I know it's been a few days. I actually have a lot going on right now, and will share in a day or two. Promise. Until then, sit tight and read another blog.

Yiddish, Part 2

So in continuing with Krissy's Yiddish lessons, I came across this fantastic site, http://www.bubbygram.com/yiddishglossary.htm, and in fact, am going to start incorporating more Yiddish into my everyday speak.

Me: I am going to use this one with you all the time, Fortzn zoffer:- A really nasty, malodorous fart which leaves a miasma of methane that could knock a buzzard off a dung heap
Sister: I get that all the time!

Sister: So do you say, “I just Fortzn zoffered and I can’t breath now?”
Me: No, I don't think it's a verb. More like, "What is that Fortzn Zoffer that came out of your ass?"
Sister: Ohh, so it’s a noun! Like “that Fortzn Zoffer smoked me out of my apt?”.

Yiddish for Wasps

I miss my old office mate Krissy. Many a day was spent with us singing along to the love songs blaring from her radio, or trying to score tickets to some concert, like Madonna. The other thing I loved most about sharing an office with Krissy was the big, "Shalom" she used to greet me with daily. Now I should probably note that Krissy is really Kristen, has blond hair, is from Boston, and definitely the WASPiest person I know. But she loves her Hebrew.

Since Krissy departed for another ad agency, our contact is now limited to the occasional dinner, but more frequent IM. I thought the one from today deserved posting here.

Me: I forgot to tell you another phrase
Me: Kena Hora
Krissy: ooo what's that
Me: like "oh geez!!!!!"
Krissy: oh vey
Me: It's pronounced kah-nah
Krissy: whore- rah
Me: ken rhymes with pen
Krissy: so ken- nah
Krissy: whore-rah
Me: kena hora (like horror but with an a instread of or)
Me: not whore-a
Me: horr-a
Me: lol, I have to post this on my blog
Krissy: make me proud. you better not write a load of schlock

The Sleep Test

It's funny. When I am dating someone, I evaluate the person against a whole host of criteria: physical attraction, sexual attraction, interests, intellect, personality, friends, how they treat me, etc. Yet at the end of the day, I have decided that it all comes down to one important thing: how well I sleep with the person. NO, I am not talking about sex, but rather, just sleeping. Side by side. Snoring, drooling, sleeping.

Looking back at the boyfriends I have had over the years, as well as the guys that I dated, a theme arises. The good relationships resulted in a good night's sleep, and the guys that I struggled with left me tossing and turning. You might be thinking, "duh," but take a second to think about the people you dated and how well you slept at the very beginning. Go back to sleep overs #1-5. Whether or not the relationship turned into anything, at that point, you probably thought it had potential. But your subconscious knew better.

Let's use a recent example: The Date. As you devoted readers might recall, I really tried to like him. We dated for four months, and definitely had our good days and bad. Yet throughout it all, there was never one night where I slept peacefully, straight through the night. It didn't matter if we were at my place either. Every morning I awoke tired from a crappy night's sleep. He even bought a new Select Comfort bed halfway through. No help.

Now, I know that this theory is not the test for who I am going to marry. After all, I slept like a baby with The Man. But at least it can help weed out the ones that I shouldn't even be sleeping next to at all....

An Oldie But Goodie