In Which I Meet Someone Super Famous

Not to brag, but, I kinda hung out with Magic Johnson this morning.  We are pretty much BFFs now.

Truth be told, I was at a conference today, and he was there supporting one of his businesses and taking pictures with people.  He was so super nice and polite.  I hadn’t really thought about it, but I just figured, he’s probably a magillionaire (I am cracking myself up today) and does this every day and is so over it and won’t say anything to me.  But he took the time to look at my badge and address me by name, and he asked me where I wanted him to look for the picture, as if he was at my picture-taking mercy.  It might be one of the least flattering pictures ever taken of me, but it sort of made my morning.  Probably since I woke up at 5 a.m. to go to this conference and anything would have made my morning at that point.

I quickly forwarded hubs the picture, and then texted him about it when I was on the train home.  Here’s our conversation:

Me: Did you see the pic I sent you?
Hubs: Yeah, looks like Michael Jordan.
Me: It’s Magic Johnson!  What’s wrong with you???
Hubs: Haha, I know who it is.
Hubs: But he’s shorter than I thought.


My coworkers all agreed to work from home for the afternoon, since Halloween is one of the worst traffic days of the year (who knew), and since we’ve all been up since waaaaaay before dawn, so now I’m working from the couch and dealing with this:

It’s no wonder that I suck at working from home.


Warm & Fuzzy

This post may or may not be devoid of sarcasm.  I know!  Alert the media.  I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy right now.

Today at work, my boss set a life or death very important 3:00 p.m. deadline.

If it wasn’t raining at 3:00, he would leave to go play in a tennis match.  If it was raining, we’d all stay at the office until 5:00, per usual.

Luckily, the sky was dry at 3:00, so boss man disappeared.  The rest of us stuck around for a while, and slowly the staff dissipated and headed home for the weekend.  I came home to my sweet puppy, cracked open a beer, and headed out to my screened-in porch.  Five minutes later, it started pouring rain.  Sorry, boss!

As Buster and I sit outside, listening to the rain hit the roof and shake the trees, I can’t help but think about how lucky I am.  Lucky to have a roof over my head.  Lucky to have amazing friends and a supportive family.  Lucky to have a husband who doubles as my best friend on his way home to me.  Lucky to have a good job that allows me to put food on the table.  Lucky to be where I am.  Lucky to be alive.

There are a million things to be grateful for.  I forget sometimes what a blessing this life is, and how quickly and easily it can change.  So for now, sitting outside, enjoying the rain and a Sam Adams Octoberfest, I’m going to be thankful for where I am.  The next time I whine and complain about how hard life is, how tired I am, how annoyed I am, etc. feel free to anonymously send me a link back to this post.

Table For One, Please

Yesterday, I headed to the mall to get a few new watch batteries, and before I left, I told my coworker that I’d probably eat lunch by myself at the mall food court.  He got a panicked look on his face and said, “I HATE eating by myself.  I will order a steak to-go and eat it with a plastic fork and knife before I’ll eat alone at a restaurant.”

I truly don’t mind eating alone, especially when I’m traveling.  Who is going to judge me if I sit at the bar and order a quesadilla with a pitcher of margaritas on the side?  Strangers I will never see again?  In other cities where I know very few people, I don’t care if I look pathetic while sitting solitarily at the bar.  I just don’t care.  Yes, about a thousand people will ask me if I’m meeting someone, or if they can sit in the seat next to me, or if I’m waiting for a table.  Nope, just little ol’ me!  And I’m 100% fine with it.

Just don’t try to chat me up if you feel sorry for me when you see me eating alone at a restaurant.  The only thing I hate more than a person eating with their mouth open is making small talk with strangers.  Bonus hate points if you are a stranger who eats with your mouth open.

In general, I am pretty independent.  I need alone time to recharge my batteries.  Hubs says that he gets alone time while he sleeps, so he doesn’t need it when he’s awake.

This article from today says that Drew Barrymore was recently spotted eating alone at a restaurant in New York, nursing a beer and reading a magazine cover-to-cover.  That sounds so lovely to me.

All that being said, I do get incredibly sad when I see businessmen eating alone at restaurants, but mostly because it makes me think of my dad eating alone while traveling for work.  And then I want to cry, and give said businessman a hug, when in reality, they are probably fine, and I am just being hypocritical.  If they are eating alone in public, they’re probably completely comfortable with it, otherwise they’d be back at their hotel, eating a steak with a plastic fork and knife.

Twisted Sista

I saw this hair tutorial on, and decided to give it a whirl this morning before work.  And wouldn’t you know, I am capable of doing something to my hair that doesn’t involve verbally abusing it:

I even got a compliment on it from a woman at my office that I’ve never exchanged words with before.  Although she wanted to know how it was done so she could do it to her daughter’s hair, but…still.  Small victories!

Here’s another view:

Please pardon the awkward photos.  I was trying to hold the camera low enough so the guy who sits behind me wouldn’t realize that I was taking pictures of myself at work.

Hubs affectionately calls this hairdo my “Jheri Curl”.  He was trying to make me feel insecure about it so I would keep messing with it and then he’d be able to leave the house before me this morning.  It’s a fun little game we like to play, titled “Are You Really Going To Work Looking Like That?”  It’s all about the love at our house.

I Think My Dog Hates Me

I had high hopes for Buster’s Halloween costume.  That he’d love wearing clothing, that he’s be thrilled with all of the attention he’d receive while wearing it, that he’d never want to take it off.  Well, I tried it on him last night to see if it fit, and while he was quite cooperative while I was putting it on, LOOK AT THE EAT-SHIT-AND-DIE FACE HE IS GIVING ME!  He hates it.  So. Freaking. Much.

Which just makes me love it even more.  If he asks, it was all hubs’s idea.  Muahahaha…

San Francisco Or Bust…I Choose Bust

Hubs and I visited San Francisco for our first wedding anniversary this past July, and ever since then, he’s been daydreaming (to himself and out loud to me) about relocating out west.  He really, really loved San Fran…and I wish I could agree.  Here are my generalized thoughts on the city.  If you’re offended by any of these, sorry in advance.

1. The Weather

Every. Single. Person. that we told about our plans to go to San Francisco repeated the famous Mark Twain quote, “The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco.”  After the twelfth time, we were like, we knowwwww, San Francisco is cold in the summer.  WE GET IT!  But the truth is, it really is chilly.  Our first night there, the fog hung so low that you could taste it, and I had to wear closed-toe shoes, a jacket, and a scarf.  Keep in mind, we had traveled from Atlanta, where it was approximately 1,000 degrees with 1000% humidity.  So while the cool weather was a nice break, it also felt really, really wrong.  We got a better view of the grim reaper fog when we were driving back into the city via Oakland a few days later, and it looked like the apocalypse, people!  I did not get warm fuzzies from the “charming” San Francisco weather.  Not at all.

2. Mmmmm Food

My favorite food that we got to try in SF was a sourdough bread bowl with some sort of tomato bisque.  It warmed the cockles of my heart, it was so good.  But if I were faced with the dilemma of what to eat every day in San Francisco, and I had sourdough breadbowls as a readily available option, I would weigh 800 lbs.  Additionally, when the weather is depressing, I tend to eat my feelings (see item #1).  Foggy weather + sourdough mecca = popping the top button on my jeans, forever.

Sidenote: the shrimp in San Fran are effing creepy.  If you are from the east coast and shrimp are important to you, then DO NOT order shrimp in San Fran.  They are small, bumpy, and creep me the F out.

3. The MotherClucking Hills

Never have my calves hated me so much that after a day of walking around San Francisco.  There is a reason why everyone who lives there has such toned legs; also a reason why they take the trolley an extra block and walk DOWN to wherever they are going.  People who know better avoid walking uphill at all costs in this city.  Tourists like us will probably never learn.  I enjoy a leisurely stroll in a new city when I’m traveling, but there is nothing leisurely about strolling through San Francisco.

4. MoneyMoneyMoneyMoney

San Francisco is mucho expensivo!  Everything from housing to food to entertainment is expensive in this city.  Probably not as bad as New York…probably.  I decided on a whim to look at what kind of condo we could get in the city for the same price that we spent on our house in Atlanta, and if the thought of trading in a 4 bedroom house for a studio was appealing to me, I’d be packing my bag right now (see what I did there?  BAG.  No use in bringing clothes that won’t fit in the door of your 10X15 shoebox of an apartment).

5. Distance

San Francisco is approximately 2,500 miles from my family here in Georgia.  It’s even further from hubs’ parents in Savannah.  While I would like to consider myself an independent woman who has no qualms about moving across the country or even the world in order to experience a new adventure, I would miss my mom too much.

In short, I am a chicken who is afraid of change, weird shrimp, and seasonal depression.  The End.