Month: June 2008

Crazy Single Girl Life vs. Former Practically Married Life

It’s 10 o’clock in the evening on a weeknight, and I’m restless.  What am I gonna do?    Sit here?   Hell no.  

What would I have done a year ago in this circumstance?   I probably would have gone to the gym.   It was the default for burning off late night energy when I was, well, what I was gonna say was married.    I always sort of looked at it that way.   

Anyway, whatever it was, whatever name it went by, it’s not anymore.  And tonight, I say, screw it.   I’m not going to bed, and I’m not going to the gym.  I’m gonna put on my shoes, and I might even check my makeup, and then I’m going to sneak a peak at my booty in the mirror to make sure these jeans are working for me tonight, and I’m going to go hang out with a bunch of gay men in a piano bar.

 

Thoughts on The A-Word

Last night, I wrote a throw away post on my parents’ anniversary.  I wanted to write something, and I wanted to shout out to them on their special day, but I wasn’t really in the mood to write.    So, here’s what I woulda/coulda/shoulda written last night.  Here are my thoughts on their anniversary, and on anniversaries in general.

  • I sort of forgot that it was their anniversary, until I was on the phone with my mom.   I didn’t feel too bad about it, though, ’cause I think they forgot, too.   My dad got up yesterday to go to work, and he found a note from my mom asking him to pick up milk on the way home.   When he was finishing up his day with some paperwork, he remembered the date.  He said something to one of his co-workers, like, “oh, it’s June 10th.  It’s my wedding anniversary.”  The co-worker asked what he was going to get for my mom, and he told him he was getting her a carton of milk.  My mom gave him a slice of banana bread in return.   I hope to someday be in a relationship long enough that anniversaries are still important, but not anything to break your heart over if it happens to slip my mind.
  • Anniversaries.  The root of the word is ‘annual’.   Meaning yearly.   There’s no such thing as a six month anniversary.  A one month anniversary is also right out.   I think that would be a lunaversary.   And really, it’s just lunacy.   Being able to relate to someone for 30 whole days in a row shouldn’t be that difficult.   Unless you’re me, apparently, but that’s a rant for another time.
  • I don’t do anniversaries.  I was in a long term relationship once.   In two plus years, we could never agree when that anniversary would be, if we were to celebrate one.   When you get married, it’s easy.  It’s the day of the ceremony.   The anniversary of a birth, also very easy to track.    I’ve had anniversaries at jobs, too.  That’s super duper easy.   But when does it start to actually count when you’re dating.   ‘Cause there’s dating, and then there’s dating.    I mean, I could go on a date tonight, and in that sense, I’d be dating someone, but I wouldn’t consider someone my boyfriend on the first date.    So, if I did go on a date (this is a purely hypothetical scenario, by the way), and then down the road, that person did become a significant part of my life and family, when does it count?   What about if you’re with somebody for a really long time before you get married, and the day you consider to be the anniversary is different from your wedding date?   This is why I don’t do it.  It’s too confusing.  As always, though, I reserve the right to change my mind.
  • My parents have been married for 37 years.  They raised two kids.   I use the term loosely, since I don’t feel like too much of a real adult.   They worked.   They moved a few times.   They retired.   Now my dad is working again.    All this stuff has happened for them, to them, and with them.   They couldn’t possibly be the same people they were when they married, at ages 31 and 24.    How the hell did they do that?   I can’t even manage to get anyone to like me for more than 36 hours in a row right now.   I am incapable of being lovable.   And they’ve been in love longer than I’ve been alive.   My mom didn’t even like him when they met!    Seriously!   WTF?    What is wrong with me?
Just sayin’.  

Googly Googly

I had to go to Google’s San Francisco office for some training today.   I had never been there before, but it’s around the corner from my old office at TACODA.   It was kind of weird to get up this morning, and commute to that neighborhood again.  It also drove home just how much nicer it is to be in Oakland living and working in Oakland.    

So, you may have heard about some of the infamous perks of working for Google.   Most notably there’s the cafeteria.   I had lunch in that cafeteria today, and I have to confirm that it is very nice.   They had a wide variety of foods.  I only took advantage of about half of it.   There were a lot of options for veggies like me.  I saw a laundry drop box, and although I didn’t really get a close look or a chance to ask anyone about it, I would assume that this means that they’ll do your shirts for you.   They also have a well stocked kitchen with snacks and every kind of beverage you could imagine.

Other “amenities” I just thought were weird.   Of course, I’m talking about their bathroom.   The toilets have heated seats.   And I’m not just talking about slightly warmed seats.   They were hot!   They also had bidets.   Adjustable bidets with air dryers apparently.  I say apparently, because I didn’t actually try out the bidets.   I have never used a bidet, and I just wasn’t feeling too adventurous in the public restroom in the Google office.  I didn’t want to be playing around and end up soaking myself, or making a mess.   They also had a full shower, and there was a hair dryer and brush on the sink.    I couldn’t imagine taking a shower at work.  

I’ve been led to believe that the reason why Google offers all of this stuff is to distract you so that you don’t realize that you have no life/work balance.   Of course there’s a shower there, because you live there.    You don’t pay for lunch, but then again, you don’t leave for an hour for a lunch break.   You don’t really need to leave all day.    Of course, I’ve never worked for them, and shockingly I don’t know anybody else who does either, but that’s the industry rumor.  

I’m not the slightest bit envious, though.   I’ll stick with my office in Oakland with the frightening elevator that’s walking distance* to Ta-Ke over Google any day, bidet and all.

 

*PeggyLuWho’s idea of what is within walking distance is a lot further than the average persons.

Carrying on the Crazy

I think that to say that I overdid it a little this weekend would be an exceptional under statement. I’ve been nursing a serious yucky feeling and a headache all day. I needed to drop off the face of the planet, and the planet obliged. I’ve been in extreme hermit mode all day.

This all started on Friday. I had my birthday get together at Albatross Pub. Things got off to an hectic beginning, and I was pretty late. Once we settled in, everything was pretty cool. The turnout was much better than I had expected. I have a history of terrible birthdays, and usually there’s only one or two people who show up. It was cool to have so many of my worlds collide. My oldest friend in the world, with my some of my newest, bandmates and friends in bands, theater folk, college friends, and former roommate. Many rounds of beer and cocktails were shared. I got some really cool gifts that weren’t expected at all. I even got a chance to show off just how poorly I play pool.

So after all that, I got up early the next morning, feeling like crap, and got myself dressed and over to the Command Center. The Phenomenauts were playing at Live 105’s BFD, which is one of those day long, multiple bands on multiple stages, radio festival concerts. It was a very long day. A long, sunny day. I managed by to avoid getting burnt. I reapplied the sunblock at least six times. Oh, and we were drinking from the moment we got there at around 10:30 in the morning. Drinking beer in the sun. And not eating enough, because the food was ridiculously priced. But The ‘Nauts put on a helluva show on the Local Band Stage, and I got to see something I never thought I would – Cypress Hill live.

So, yeah, I needed to do nothing today, and today I did nothing. I watched a lot of crap on TV. A lot. I also watched the Giants’ game. I napped. Oh, and I watched the last 20 minutes of “Coyote Ugly”.

And my head still hurts. I should probably drink another gallon of water before I go to bed. I should probably go to bed.

Maybe it was too much fun, but I doubt it. It was just a whole lotta fun, and a whole lotta beer.

Just sayin’.

Waiting. . . Anticipating

I’m sitting here waiting for my peeps to come pick me up.  We’re doing this early dinner before the parties later.  It’s the birthday celebration that may just kill me.  

I’m dolled up, pretty in pink, and while I wait, I’ve also been tooting my own horn.  I just hope I don’t get spit all over my outfit while I’m waiting.  That would suck.  

Hopefully I’ll have a lot of pictures to post.  That’s my plan.  

 

What’s With That?

There’s a trend I’ve noticed lately.   See if you can pick up on it from these two true stories.

Anecdote #1: A few weeks ago, The Slackers and Deal’s Gone Bad were playing at Slim’s.   I hung out until the bitter end, ’cause you know, that’s what I do.  Finally it was time to go, and since it’s a reasonable neighborhood, I walked myself to my car.  I was rounding the corner and ran head-on into this older gentleman.  We startled each other pretty well, and he said, “you startled me!”  I assured him that he had also startled me, apologized, and continued on my way.  I guess he turned to watch me walk away, because this 80-year-old man then hollered after me, “Damn, baby, you got back!”    When I didn’t respond, and he followed up with, “Shake that thing!”    Finally, he called out, “Have a nice evening!”  I hollered, “you have a nice evening, too,” over my shoulder.

Anecdote #2: Sunday, on my way back from Iowa, I scored the middle seat on my flight from Chicago to SF.   I was seated between a pair of gentleman, a bigger guy to my left in the window seat, and a 70-year-old Indian man to my right on the aisle.   The fella in the aisle seat was sitting across from his family, and obviously didn’t speak English very well.  His family was translating to the flight attendants for him.   I tried to make myself as small as possible to not disturb either of my new companions, but finally I just couldn’t take it any more, and I had to get up.   I had to use the loo.  So, I tapped the fella to my right to get his attention and indicate through charades that I needed to get out.  His son leaned across the aisle and explained that I wanted to get out.   Rather than stand up, he sat up and squeezed back into my seat so I could scoot by.  I had to make a choice, give him the hiney or the ‘giney.   I went with the bum.   And as I was stepping past him, this guy reached up and slapped my ass.

Did you pick up on the theme?    The old guys, they love my booty.   They love my ass so much that they forgo all manners and courtesy. What’s with that?

 

Just sayin’.   

Running Around All Night Long

Last night, after my last day at Huge Corporation, I went to band practice.   We’re still in the process of trying out singers.  So, it was a fun practice, but I didn’t really feel like I got to nail anything down.  It’s still just so much fun to go and play.  I wish we could practice more.

Afterwards, I was giving Ruckus a ride home.  That guy is super cool, and can always make me laugh.  Like, gerbil laugh.   He got me twice during practice last night.  We were talking about family, and about my uncle’s memorial.

Since he lives near the lake, I decided to drop in on some friends afterwards.  Wednesday nights, some folks from the musical theatre crowd hang out at The Alley, a dive-a-licious piano bar in the Grand Lake neighborhood.   I used to hang out there every so often when I lived in that neighborhood, and I’ve always been quite fond of the spot.

I’ve dropped in a few other times, but never found any of my friends, but last night that was not a problem.  I walked in, and found many familiar faces around the piano.   I also got the chance to make a lot of new friends.   It was a good time.   

And they got me laughing, too.  In fact, I now have a new friend who is completely enamored of me for that laugh alone.  I laughed so hard and so long that I actually lost my squeak.  My throat was raw.   

In the end, it was two in the morning before I got home.   That was actually the second night in a row that I was out until the wee hours.   I’ve really been enjoying myself lately.  

And no, I didn’t sing anything at the piano.

Last Day

Today is my last day at my current job.  My new job starts Monday.

I’ve got a mixture of feelings about this.  I was really hoping to stay with this job for a while, and I’ve been very pleased with the folks I work with.  They drive me insane every once in a while, but usually in a way that ends up being amusing in the long run.

But ever since the Huge Corporation that bought us started making all these changes a few months back, it just hasn’t been the same.  They managed to kill the spirit of the original company, I think.

So, when I was offered the new opportunity, so close to home and working with friends, it was an obvious choice.  I am very excited about this job, and this new company seems like it will be an excellent fit.  I’ll give you a hint, it has to do with music.   Anyway, this is the right choice, and I’m headed on the right path.

But it’s still hard to say goodbye, you know.

Brain Dead This Morning

I couldn’t seem to pull my head out of my ass this morning.   I woke up, and hit the snooze about three times.  Then I just couldn’t get my brain into gear.  I sat on the couch and ate, which is not normal.  I’m normally a cereal-over-the-sink kind of gal.  Of course, since I sat down, I turned on the news, and then I was looking up and realizing I had just twenty minutes to get out the door.

I didn’t make it in twenty.  I didn’t even make it in thirty.   I took a shower last night, so I skipped it this morning, but by the time I washed my face, slapped on some make-up, brushed my teeth, and slapped some Fudge around in my hair, it was quarter after eight, and I was late.

So, in my haste to get out the door, I somehow managed to leave behind both my cell phone and my security badge.  I’m sure I’m missing the best phone calls of my life right now.   Or at least some flirty crazy single girl text messages.   I hate this feeling of separation anxiety.  I hate feeling like I could be missing anything.   Especially if it could be fun.

That’s why I’m always the last to leave a party, because I wouldn’t ever want to miss any of the fun.