Things We Can Learn from the Bravo Network

Do you know what I am doing today? (Pretend that I am a recent graduate of a large collge and have more money than sense.) I am flying to a college bowl game. College. Bowl. Game. Apparently, this is somehow mediated by the fact that we are using miles to do this and can stay with relatives. This only works because my husband doesn't say anything when I leave the t.v. on an episode of Real Housewives that he knows I've already seen.

The thing is, its seems to me that there are so many bowl games that you have to really super suck to not be in one. I know this because even my little school that never wins games is in a bowl game this year. Peach Bowl, Cotton Bowl, Fed Ex Bowl, Meth Bowl, Dunkin' Donuts Bowl. (I have been preoccupied with meth ever since my trip to Albuquerque earlier this year. Even the gas station pumps have reminders to go easy on the meth. Fascinating.)

My point is this - You don't see the Real Housewives franchise branching out to Fargo or Amarillo. That would cheapen it. So I am just saying that the college football league, or whatever it is called, could take a lesson from the Bravo network and keep it to just a handfull of bowls.

I wanna go

Today my son has a playdate with the kid who did his second grade science project on cannabis. Today my son is going to have a better day than me.

For Real?

Is this the Twilight Zone? Punked? Some modern day Candid Camera? Seriously, because it is just way too strange around here for this to be real life.

Over Christmas, the employees (meaning everybody but the contract employees) did a Secret Santa $10 limit gift exchange. Sometimes I am extra glad to be a contract employee because I get out of stuff like half-day seminars about employee benefits and the Secret Santa $10 limit gift exchange. (That's 2 Starbucks coffees people. I could give you a lovely bar of gift soap, or I could have 2 coffees. I think we all know what's better for everyone in that scenario because I assume you already have soap.)

Anyway, because the most exciting part of my job (besides the coffee sitting on my modular office furniture) is listening to all of the conversations around my cube, I come to find out that a lot of my fellow cube dwellers ALSO gave their supervisors gifts in addition to participating in the Secret Santa $10 limit gift exchange. Is that supreme sucking up or what? When I was in a law firm, the associates never got the partners gifts. Except maybe if the associates were in really good spirits, we would refrain from flipping off the partners as they left our offices (or not). Sometimes the secretaries made the lawyers some Chex Mix or cookies, but the gifts, if any, flowed down, not up. This allows the earth to continue to spin in the correct direction.

In other bizarre news, although I am not in the class of employees eligible for employee benefits such as the 401(k) and the Secret Santa $10 limit gift exchange, I am, apparently, required to participate with the regular employees in the annual practice of a self-evaluation performance review. I file papers, but I suppose I could stretch that out to a review.

To: Human Resources. From: AG

"This coming year, I will try to file papers faster and more accurately. I was filing the company's documents based on the color of the paper, then by font size, but if you think that alphabetizing them by client would be more appropriate, I am nothing but a team player. While I have the floor, I would like to request a company wide policy that any correspondence to me from a fellow employee, or to the outside world from this company, not be signed with "namaste," "aloha," or "live laugh love."Just a thought. XO, Loves ya!!!!!!! AG.

Job Search 2009

Ladies and Gentlemen:

My top 5 job search moments of 2009

(1) Showing up for an interview and nobody knowing why I was there. [Although the front desk lady was able to find two partners who showed me the new office furniture.]

(2) Interviewing with a lady for an hour and a half and never receiving any notification that I didn't get the job, other than never hearing from her again. [I am going to go all Emily Post here. You do not have to acknowledge every candidate that applies for a position, but you do you have to send a response to people you call into your office for an interview.]

(3) Being told in a job interview that I really didn't want the job. Many times. [I probably didn't get the job because I agreed that, indeed, I probably didn't want the job.]

(4) Getting a rejection e-mail from a Catholic charity on Christmas Eve. [This would have been even more tragic if I was actually a Catholic, but is kind of wrong even still.]

(5) Getting a rejection e-mail in my gmail account before I even finished the on-line application process. [This is because, in response to the question of whether I had 8 years of experience, I put no. I have just over 7 years of experience, but I am not about to start lying to a potential employer. Perhaps you round up?]

Thank God for Catherine and Her Christmas Vodka

We have set a new standard for the holiday. Accordingly, all of the following must now occur in order for us to declare it an official Christmas morning:

(1) Someone must bring up a divorce decree.
(2) Someone over the age of 8 must break down in tears.
(3) Someone must tell someone else that they do not deserve anything from them.

And this all must occur before 9 a.m.

Next year, if my son wakes me up at 5 a.m., instead of telling him to go back to sleep, I am going to get up and start drinking. Thank God for my friend Catherine and her Christmas Vodka.

That's Cold 2

I find it very inappropriate to have received a job rejection e-mail on Christmas Eve.

That's Cold!

From our friends in Canada, this is what -41 looks like. Brrrrrrr. Stay Warm. Peace and Merry Christmas.

Silent Night

When my mom was a young girl in the church choir, she was apparently such a bad singer that they asked her just to mouth the words. As a result, even as an adult, she would just hum and conduct when a song that she liked came on the radio. Or she would start singing and then catch herself and stop.

The Christmas that she was really sick she decided that we should all go to church on Christmas Eve. The preacher asked us to join in the singing of Silent Night. That year, my mom sang out loud. And she sounded (objectively, unbiasedly) beautiful. She had a beautiful singing voice, all that time.

There are many lessons there. (1) Never wait until the last year of your life to sing out loud. (2) Don't listen to what other people have to say. (3) When listening to Silent Night, one requires many tissues.

Sugar and Spice

If in your annual Christmas letter you discuss how cute your daughter looked in a bikini at her beach themed first birthday party, then you totally deserve it when she comes to you in a of couple of years and tells you that her stage name is Cinnamon.

It's a chick thing

My sister-in-law sent us a card with pictures of my nephew. And, phew, they are clothing that kid for photography these days. (This is the post where I offend everyone who has naked professional photography of their kids and that includes most of my family and good friends.) (If it makes you feel any better, just think about all the crazy hits I am bound to get for having the words naked professional photography in my blog. There are A LOT of people in Algeria searching for porn. I have learned from experience that if you blog that you are in a pissy mood, a lot of people searching for pissy women in Algeria will find you. Just thought I would share that as a public service announcement to my fellow bloggers.)

Anyway, kudos to all of you having selected the naked baby pictures over the pictures where you put your child in a tie and then sit him in a briefcase or in a tin bucket and then covered her in silk flowers. That is much worse. You could have gone that route but you didn't so I respect you for that.

But that's not the point. The point is that the card that my sister-in-law sent is a Sloane Tanen card - the one with the chicks doing yoga at 3:30 in the afternoon. If you have no idea what I am talking about, search on Sloane Tanen in Google and then select the images. She is so clever and I laugh out loud at her pictures and the captions. I posted the card up in my cube and it has certainly made it a much better cube. I have tried to explain to my husband why her pictures are funny, but he just doesn't get it.

There is a picture of a toy chick on a swing and she says something to herself about how her mother was right, she really is the prettiest and smartest chick at the playground. I am telling my husband it is funny because mothers really do say that to their daughters, and daughters really do have a moment where they believe it, but it is usually like a period of ten minutes and the rest of your life you never feel that way again. My husband just has this blank stare like now that I've explained it, it's even less funny, and why is this toy chick on the toy swing and why is there an entire book of photography of toy chicks at the gynecologist, at Hooters, etc. The books have been out for awhile, but they stand the test of time, for chicks.

That's the appropriate use of chickens in entertainment.

Weekend Treat

If you have been reading this blog for any amount of time you know that Starbucks plays a very important role in my life. I am willing to concede that a Starbucks latte is really just an adult happy meal, only more expensive. But there is just something about it. It's my habit which I justify by noting that I don't buy lunches or snacks or cigarettes or meth.

So for me to tell you that I have found something for which I am willing to give up Starbucks in order to afford it, you know for damn sure that it is fantastic.

A little while ago, my son and I ran into this swanky little gift store and he found this bubble bath that he wanted. Why not, I thought. He likes his bubbles. And the double bonus to him was that the glass bottle was shaped like a bowling pin. So we get to the counter with that and some other gifts and later when I look at the receipt, because the total seemed a little high to me, I realized that I had just bought my son $38 bubble bath. This for a kid who has in fact on his own accord bathed in dishwashing detergent.

So I decided to use this bubble bath and oh my god. Words cannot describe - Its like the most heavenly of all angels has farted in your tub, or the most divine of all lightly scented flowers have been freshly rained on. Its just the best smell ever. I love this stuff so much that I am considering giving up my coffee so that I can afford to buy it on a regular basis.

Technically, its bath gel. You can find a retail outlet at sdhonline.com

The Chicken is Superfluous

Yesterday morning I was late to work. This may have had something to do with the fact that I was hanging around waiting for Vh1 to play Kings of Leon's Sex on Fire. Even if you don't watch Vh1 (because you only listen to the "alternative" stations that play stuff like the wildly alternative Van Morrison and David Gray) and don't like Kings of Leon (because you could have written "Use Somebody" - I'll give you that), I defy you to admit that sex on fire is not a concept you can buy into. I mean, I am not a joiner, but in this case, yes please, sign me up.

Then I realized that I didn't have to be a slave to Vh1's schedule and that I could just watch the Sex on Fire video on youtube. I call up the video and settle in for the what was bound to be the most exciting 4 minutes of my next 8 hours. The video starts - its kind of dark and sepia, there are some blowing leaves on a lonely street corner. Then there is a . . . wait . . . is that a chicken?

I crap you negative. A chicken. Then there are some shots of the band. Then half way through the video the lead signer is eating a chicken wing. Then at the end of the video the lead singer spits out a chicken bone.

Open Letter to Producers of Sex on Fire: When you have a relatively attractive, shirtless, slightly oiled up lead singer belting out in a sultry voice that sex is on fire, you can stop there. The chicken is superfluous.

Stay tuned because on Monday I will discuss the appropriate use of chickens in entertainment. Seriously.

He Didn't Even Use the Pliers

$900 and two hours later . . . I have to admit, this dentist is fantastic. Not once did this guy sit on me, in the straddle position, while pulling out a crown with a pair of pliers. That actually happened to me once. My new dentist tells me that it is inappropriate for a dentist to sit on his patients. Who knew?

9 months and much bitterness later . . . There is, for the first time since I got laid off, a job posted in my area of the law and in my city. The partner-boss that laid me off made a big deal of telling me that he felt like he had a duty to help me find another job. When I've tried to contact him, however, he has never once gotten back in touch with me. He would most certainly know somebody at this place.

[As an aside, other partners there have fallen all over themselves to help.]

Unless I can think of somebody else that might know somebody at this place, I am relegated to the on-line submission process. If you have ever done this then you know that (1) you are lucky if your responses to the questions don't automatically generate an e-mail notification that you are not qualified, and (2) even if you don't get that immediate response, it's like sending your resume into a black hole. So, last night, instead of watching the re-run of the Real Housewives that I missed when I was in Scottsdale, I applied for this job. That's how serious I am about this possibility.

[As an aside, I scored an interview with the lady at the other firm that my husband went out with. Not awkward.]

Ranting Here and There

Today, instead of ranting here, I will be (1) ranting over at bitterlawyer.com, and (2) having $900 and two hours of dental work done. Visit me later today over at Bitter Lawyer and enjoy all the other rants, egos and craziness that ensues over there.

Its a small, small world

This morning, at 5:30 a.m., I was applying for a job. Applying for a job is another full-time job that you cannot do at your current job unless you really want the people at your current job to make the decision for you regarding when you are leaving.

Anyway, my husband comes and looks over my shoulder at the firm's web page and at the picture of the partner who is looking for an associate. He says. "I know her." And by the way he said it you can trust me that the only appropriate follow-up question was, "Did you date her?"

If I end up getting an interview, it won't be awkward at all. The good news is, my husband says she is really nice.

[I think he might be a little bit of an attorney groupie (but only in this one particular area of the law). I had better find a job as an attorney again, soon!]

Tabs 16-30

What do I have to do in this organization to get a damn inbox?

One thing I miss about being an attorney is that, when you are an attorney, nobody in administration questions your need for supplies. I could ask for green highlighters, bic medium point (NOT fine point) red pens, 3 transgender albino pygmies and a Diet Coke, and the supply person would ask if by noon was too late. Here, when I ask for tabs for my binder numbered 16-30, I actually get e-mails back asking why. And, really, how do you explain that. When you need tabs 16-30, tabs 1-15 (that we do already have, I am reminded) will not do, nor will tabs A-O. After way too many e-mails back and forth making my case for tabs 16-30, all I can conclude is that I am going to have to wait to see if they get approved in next year's budget. But when they finally decide, I may miss the memo because, as noted, I do not have an inbox.

Weekend Treat - Jonathan Adler

What a lovely couple to have at dinner. These are candle holders OR bud vases. Brilliant Mr. Adler. Just Brilliant.

www.jonathanadler.com

Seminar 2 and Edits

The seminar went well, if the definition of well does not include any parameter of making a profit. It's still MY business and I had two customers today.

....

If you own a kindle or a nook, I am going to go ahead and insult you right now. I saw both of these on the plane yesterday. What kind of adult is this designed for? At most, you can get part of one large paragraph or two very tiny paragraphs on the screen. Who reads so slowly that that is not annoying. It seems like you would be clicking the thing every 5 seconds to get the "page" to turn. If I wanted to be exerting that much effort, I would not be reading. Seriously. Somebody tell me why these things are such a big hit.

I have sort of been on a roll of offending people. I was at a staff meeting yesterday and I was unable to locate where I had placed my internal sensor for decorum and grace. In fact, I frequently can't find it, but then I have immense guilt. I wish I was one of those people who could speak my mind without the guilt that follows. Either that or learn how to edit.

I think I might be a nicer person if I lived in Scottsdale. I have only been here for about 12 hours but I am already in love with it here.

Cube World Hell. Only, It's Not Warm.

This is the fourth day in a row that there has been no heat for the cubes in my part of the building. It is -8 degrees outside. We are working with our coats on. I could go to the grocery store and purchase, say, a salmon, and I could just leave that salmon right out in my cube and it would be adequately chilled until I was ready to go home and put it in the fridge.

I only have two people signed up for the seminar that I am putting on in Arizona tomorrow. Although this doesn't cover the costs, I can't cancel. First of all, people need their CLEs in December. Also, I will be so glad to be warm for a change.

In other news, I found out today that my Cube World job got extended for another year.

Step-mother

I think that my ex-husband might be getting engaged on his upcoming 40th Birthday trip to Napa. This is because: (1) Napa is a total couples place; (2) It's a bit sad to have been married three times prior to reaching 40, but a bit less sad to get married for a thrid time after 40; and (3) He and his girlfriend have been looking for a new house.

My ex-husband getting married doesn't even register as a blip on my emotional radar. The thing is, this will make his girlfriend my son's step-mother. Girlfriend is one thing, but step-mother is a whole different ball of wax. If a girlfriend leaves, she is probably gone for good. But a step-mother, even if she ends up divorcing your dad, is forever. She will send you a Christmas card for the rest of your life and expect an invitation to the wedding. Like, a step-mother is family.

What a lucky girl she will be if she gets engaged to my ex-husband (notwithstanding the fact that she will be engaged to my ex-husband). She will receive no greater honor in her lifetime than being able to have the word mother attached to her in relation to my son.

Pity Party

Pity Party

or

Enjoy Watching the Laid-Off Lawyer Be Sad

(Depending on how you feel about lawyers)

My supervisor told me that last night she went to the theater and that she is a season ticket holder. She went on an on about how nice it is to go to the theater and how she deserves to treat herself with that from time to time. And While I don't doubt that that is true, our season tickets to the theater were one of the things we had to cancel when I lost my job, and can't afford while I am at this job. So I handed her some salt and said, here, shake it in this wound. And then I went outside to scrape the ice off of my car because I also no longer have heated, covered parking.

I'm not saying that I'm not extremely grateful to have my health and my family. I'm just saying, I'm a healthy person with a family and no theater tickets or heated, covered parking.

Dragon Master / VP

Overheard in front of my cube at Cube World:

Corporate VP: Oh yea, I would make all kinds of little things out of cardboard.

She: Well, I've never heard of Dungeons and Dragons. How does it work?

Corporate VP: [Explains the game]

She: You mean, you would sit around and talk as if you were that character?

Corporate VP: Yea. And we dress up too.

She: Well, your costume looks great. Have fun at the party tonight.

Me: [Go into bathroom and beat head against stall, then go into Dragon Master's office and remind him that we are meeting with the Board in ten minutes, costumes not required.]

It's Official

I have never really had a title around this office. I gathered by the salary and the appointment to kitchen duty that I was not upper management, but other than that, I had no idea.

I started to get a sneaking suspicion that I might be an administrative assistant. Now, don't get me wrong. There is nothing the matter with being an administrative assistant. My mother was one and she is my hero. But my mother (1) wanted to be a secretary and (2) she did not have a law degree.

Last week, I was at a meeting about a new project that one of the VPs is managing. He said that he is going to need one of the administrative assistants to help him out. And he picked me.

Dear God. I have gone from being a senior associate at a big law firm to a secretary. This year I am back to putting Christmas on credit and having discussions with my husband about whether we can afford our house anymore.

Three years of law school. Plus one year for a masters of law. I am now, officially, an administrative assistant. (With 50K due to Sallie Mae for the law degree.)

Weekend Treat - Kate Spade iPhone cover

Well now I want an iPhone.

This is the cutest thing $30 can buy. iPhone - iPod touch cover at katespade.com

Bad Day

It's just been a bad day. I'm not soliciting for comments or e-mails. I'm simply stating, I just don't have it in me to make light of anything today.

1. The dental work is going to cost $900.
2. It's so friggin cold in my cube that I haven't taken my coat off all day.
3. I found out that my employer considers me to be an administrative assistant. [More on that in another post.]
4. Somebody told me a family secret and it was hurtful. [That's as far as I can go on that one.]
5. I got a rejection letter today from a law firm that I was fairly certain would at least contact me for the next step.
6. Only two people have signed up for the next legal seminar that my business is presenting. This doesn't cover the costs.
7. The company had a team building exercise today and I had to role play. At the break I beat my head against a bathroom stall.
8. I caught myself standing in line at Starbucks singing OUT LOUD Eddie Mercury's "I'm going slightly mad."
9. When I walked up the steps to the office I started to cry (and its nowhere near time to blame that on PMS).
10. I dropped my running shoe in wet mud.
11. I forgot to pay the water bill (for several months) and they shut off the water. [In my defense, they did stop sending me bills. However, they explained to me today that even though they stopped sending me bills, I used the water and I should have known to ask for a bill. Given that I am actually a lawyer, despite my current job title, I knew that they had a valid point.]
12. At the gym, the guy working out in the row of elliptical machines in front of my row of elliptical machines had really bad gas.

Sugar

I have a cavity. Oh the horror.

The last time I had a cavity filled, the dentist said that he was going to require me to take a second dose of tranquilizers before he could work on me. And I required that the video screens above the exam chairs be switched to my Journey's Greatest Hits DVD and for my husband to take me away for a long weekend afterward. I find anything to do with my mouth that stressful.

You would think that when you are on the every three month cleaning plan that cavities would not happen. Apparently, the every three month plan is not in lieu of flossing. As an added bonus, this cavity is next to an old crown, so while they are in there they are just going to go ahead and replace the crown. Just a small pre-Christmas two hour dental chair celebration.

This cavity might have something to do with the very large amount of sugar I consume. I do limit myself to only one flavored latte a day. (Only in the rarest of circumstances will I hit Starbucks twice in a twelve hour period.) After my latte, I switch to tea with honey. Okay, honestly, it's honey with tea. And there is a new cupcake place that opened up near our house and who doesn't love a cupcake. Only, I am allergic to wheat so I just eat the icing. Probably for someone who hates dental work as much as I do, I should cut back on the sugar. Or I suppose I could floss.

Orlando on Margaritas

Once upon a time, my friend and I had been drinking margaritas for a while when we got this brilliant idea that we should move to Orlando and work at Disney World. She was going to be Ariel, and I was going to be Belle (After all, Belle is the smart princess. If deciding at 23 that you are going to run off to Disney World to be a princess isn't a sign of brilliance, then I don't know what is).

We thought about just going to Orlando that very night, right from the bar, but then decided we should probably go home and pack and meet up in the morning.

The next morning, not another word was spoken.

A few years later, when we were sitting on my porch drinking margaritas, my friend said, "Do your remember that time you wanted to move to Orlando so you could be Belle?"

Ah, hello? At least Belle is a real person. Do you remember the time you wanted to run off to Orlando to be a MERMAID?

In retrospect, it has come to be that all of the crazy ideas were mine. Indeed, once when we were sitting out on her apartment patio drinking margaritas, I thought it would be hysterical if we switched around everybody's porch furniture and plants. When the apartment dwellers walked out in the morning, they would be so confused. Their exact and entire patio setup would be on someone else's patio. What we didn't know was that, because it had been a particularly dry summer, they had just painted (yes, painted) the grass green, and we had tracked green foot prints everywhere. So then we had to switch everything back before anybody noticed.

Many years later, I am a laid-off lawyer and my friend is a SAHM and we live 300 miles apart. Now I have an eight year old that would totally hold me accountable if I ever so much as mentioned in passing that we should go to Orlando (which in 8 year old language is synonymous with Disney World). I can't imagine how many margaritas it would take at this point in my life to make Orlando sound like a good idea. But I bet I could talk my son into switching everyone's porch furniture one night.