Put A Fork In Me, I’m Done

Two of my coworkers will occasionally invite me out to lunch, but only when they’re going somewhere weird and they know I’ll say no, like to a Vietnamese place or a restaurant whose specialty is lamb kabobs…so I almost always decline.

Today they asked me if I wanted to go to Firehouse Subs.  I said sure.  They immediately backtracked, saying, “you really don’t have to” and “no pressure, really, it’s cool”.

AND THEN THEY LEFT WITHOUT ME.

WTF.  I said yes.

Instead I went to Panera by myself and got some broccoli cheddar soup and a tuna salad sandwich, which are pretty much my Depressed Lunch, so if you ever see me eating it, you might want to ask me how my day is going.  Because it’s probably in the shitter.

AND THEN.  Just now, someone told me that our team’s happy hour tonight is cancelled.  Which is totally fine and doesn’t impact my Friday night plans at all, since they never invited me in the first place.

I give up.

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.

Mission: Twixpossible

My boss keeps a fully stocked candy bucket in his cube.  Torture, right?  Especially considering HE NEVER EATS ANY OF IT.  He just keeps it there to fatten us up and test our willpower on a daily basis.

The problem is, you can’t tell if my boss is sitting at his desk unless you walk all the way into his cube.  There is no easy way to see if the coast is clear and to snatch a piece without judgment.

There are 3 ways around this:

1. The Shameless Method: Just walk right in like you own the place and take a piece of candy without shame.

2. The Stalker Method: Wait until you are SURE that boss has left his cube and walked into a conference room/down the hall/up the stairs, then dart in and out as if you’re on a secret mission to confiscate those mini twix from communist Russia, etc.

3. The Scared Nerd Method: See if boss is idle on our inter-office messenger.  If he’s at his desk, his status is green.  If he’s idle, then he’s not at his computer.  If he’s offline, well, that’s a gamble: He’s either gone home, or signed off of messenger while still sitting in his cubicle.

My coworker and I have the following conversation at least once a day:

Me: Have you seen Boss?
Coworker: I think he just went to the bathroom.
Me: You THINK?!?
Coworker: Yeah but he might be upstairs.  Or he might have made a lap, and now he’s back in his cube.  I’m not sure.
Me: DAMMIT!!!  Is he online?
Coworker: Let me check…it says he’s idle.
Me: Go!  Grab me a twix!
Coworker: It’s every man for himself!

(P.S. My coworker is a dude.)

If you do end up braving the candy dash and grabbing a piece, the crazy cat lady who sits in the next cube over and is a lifetime member of Weight Watchers, upon hearing the crinkle of the candy bucket, will stand up and proclaim:

“Don’t do it, Anne!  Don’t eat the candy!  THAT’S 3 POINTS!!!”

To which I respond:

“Listen up, you nosy bitch.  I want this piece of candy, I NEED this piece of candy, and if I don’t get a smidge of chocolately goodness inside of my body in the next 30 seconds, I’m going to kill someone, because I just got my 8th nastygram of the day, and the coffee machine is out of beans, and it’s overcast outside so I can’t see the sky, and I don’t CARE how many fake “points” it costs me because I AM NOT ON WEIGHT WATCHERS!!!”

In real life, I just mumble under my breath, “don’t judge me, Becky.”  And I sit down and enjoy a delicious mini twix bar.

That is gone in 2.5 seconds.

Tuesday Tidbits: Smoothies, Hairdos, & Costumes

It’s Tuesday, right?  Thought so.  I’ve had multiple people tell me that today feels like Monday round 2 for some reason.  Uggghhh, Muesday.

1. Smoothies

I am on a smoothie binge this week.  I think I’ve made 4 in the past 48 hours.  A tribute, in the form of a poem:

I’ll drink a smoothie as a snack
I’ll drink one lying on my back
I’ll drink it straight from the blender
Because I’m on a smoothie bender

2. Hair Don’ts

I am somewhat hair impaired, by nature and by skill (it’s like my hands become useless as soon as the disappear behind my giant skull), but I recently found this blog that has video tutorials for all sorts of different hair tricks and styles.  With my short/fine/thin hair, I generally come up with a I-put-the-blowdryer-on-high-and-this-is-what-I-got style, but I’m going to give some of these a whirl and try to shake things up a bit.  Stay tuned.

3. My Dog Is Gonna Hate Me

I may have bought this Halloween costume for Buster while on a Petsmart run today.  I was originally leaning towards dressing him up as a chicken or a frog, but ultimately decided on the bumble bee outfit yellow jacket costume.  I generally despise Halloween, so I have no costume planned for myself…yet.

You Are Not Craving A Salad

Realtalk: Every time I hear someone say that they are “craving a salad”, I want to punch them in the face.

Who craves a salad?!?  Seriously!  My cravings include things like potato chips, cake with caramel frosting, pad thai, french fries, and various other things that are terrible for you.  In the months leading up to my wedding, when my diet mainly consisted of fruits and vegetables, I dreamed daily of eating Arby’s fries with cheese sauce.  They’re so gross, and yet, I wanted them.  So.  Freaking.  Badly.

So when I hear one of my health-conscious friends say, “Do you want to go to XYZ for lunch?  I’m really craving a salad today,” I want to be like, HOLD THE PHONE, CRAZY LADY!

Do women say these things to help them convince themselves that they want a salad, and therefore it won’t feel like a chore when they make the healthy choice to eat one?  Or are there really people out there who think, yes, I am craving some flavorless lettuce topped with cold, sterile veggies, cheese that’s been processed into an oblivion, maybe some meat grilled to bland perfection, and dressing made of God knows what, which will be on the side, of course!

No.  Don’t get me wrong, I LIKE salad.  I think it’s very healthy to incorporate it into your daily meal routine.  And I will often eat one, because it’s the right thing to do.  But to say I’m ever craving one is like saying that Blake Lively is craving Ryan Reynolds.  It’s just not true, because you know she would rather have Leonardo DiCaprio.  And I would rather have nachos.

FML: Tomato Basil Edition

I just sent this email to my coworker Elizabeth, who shares my love for our cafeteria’s Tomato Basil soup, but who also happens to be on her way to the airport right now:

From: Anne
To: Elizabeth
Subject: Good news bad news

The good news is they had Tomato Basil in the cafeteria today.

The bad news is that the lady who covers for the barista when he’s on vacation was standing behind me waiting to taste test the soup because someone had complained that it was too salty.  I got it anyway, figuring it couldn’t be that bad, and I took it back to my desk, and now I can confirm that it is in fact too salty.

Why is life so hard sometimes?

Anne