i love the vegas

Can I just tell you how much I'm not looking forward to the big meeting this afternoon? Once a quarter, the big boss, Marc, holds an All Hands Staff Meeting... which actually sounds kinda dirty now that I think about it. Regardless, the All Hands Staff Meeting (hereafter referred to as AHSM) is one of those rare events which manages simultaneously to bore you to tears, crush your eternal soul and sap you of your will to live. That kind of mind-numbing, spirit-killing power is truly (trulytrulytruly) awe-inspiring. Did I say "awe-inspiring?" I meant "horrific." Trulytrulytruly horrific, who-o-o-oah AHSM!

Several factors contribute to the all-encompassing evil that is the AHSM:
  1. Since it is an organizational-wide staff meeting, material from all of the branches is covered, so the chances that you don't know and don't care about a particular topic are pretty fucking good.
  2. Attendance is mandatory for every employee in Marc's organizational hierarchy. There are 200+ people huddled around the speakerphone in conference rooms across the country and you know what? At least 30 of them are going to have to put their two cents in during the Q&A session which extends the life (or death, really) of the meeting by 30 - 45 minutes. Fuckers.
  3. Marc is scary. I imagine that after work, he rips off his human face, hops on the back of a winged beast and retires to a darkened pit where he feasts on the charred flesh of newborn babies.

Wish me luck.



This morning, Liz posted great about low-carb beer lameness and malt liquor industry advertising sleight of hand. I laughed. Then irritation overtook me. If you're counting your carbs and you're worried about the beer ones...don't drink beer, dumbass. You know you can drink regular liquor on that Atkins shit, right? All of the good stuff: whiskey, bourbon, vodka, gin, rum, tequila and brandy have like zero net carbs or whatever and if you mix it with a diet soda, you're golden. Well, as long as you enjoy the sick aftertaste of aspartame.
People on faddish, restrictive diets piss me off.

Also, I was at the Medusa a couple of weeks ago and I ordered a Rolling Rock and I take a swig and it was literally like beer-splashed water. What the...I look at the bottle. It's low-carb fucking Rolling Rock. Why would they do that, why why why? I mean, it's already the wussiest of the wussy beers-- it's like Zima without the refreshing citrus taste. So I go back to the bar and ask for a regular Rolling Rock, but guess what? They DON'T SERVE regular Rolling Rock. They only serve low carb beer. What? Why? I mean, it's not like they only serve diet soda and no-sugar juice and fucking carbless lemons, limes and maraschino cherries. Fuckers. This is SEATTLE, not New York or Los Angeles, godammit. We're not supposed to wear high-heeled strappy sandals with mini-skirts; we're not supposed to have to wait in line to get into a club; we're not supposed to have tans or really bleached teeth and the white devils at the Medusa certainly are not supposed to be serving low-carb beer.

Yeah. I took it all in stride. Finished the beer. Reapplied lip gloss. Left. Burned the place down.


it's showtime, synergy!

So my big sister gave me the Jem box set for my birthday. It's 4 discs long. There are like 89 episodes. Oh, the glory. 80's rocker chicks, green hair, fishnets and hot guys named Rio...what more could you ask for? No, seriously, what more could you ask for? My one complaint: dudes, Rio is totally cheating of Jerrica with Jem...and Jerrica IS Jem, so she KNOWS that he's cheating on her, so what the fuck is that? She's an enabler and Rio is a goddamn cheater, which is kind of disheartening because Rio was my favorite cartoon guy who wasn't on Voltron...I thought he was awesome and sweet and dreamy, but little did my innocent 8 year old self comprehend that he was a total cheating whore. WHORE, I say, WHORE.

Mmm. Off-topic. Yesterday started off brilliantly and ended disastrously. Jenn, the good friend that she is, helped me pick up some stuff at my office to take home with me. We made a day of it--went to Sushiland (light of my life, fire of my loins), hit Cost Plus World Market in Lynnwood for British candy, ate TCBY fro-yo and then decided to catch an early viewing of Ella Enchanted, which was, in fact, contrary to poor reviews (with the notable exception of this one by my arch-nemesis the no longer fat guy), totally enchanting. I have a rather large girl-crush on Anne Hathaway who, it turns out, is even more crush-worthy that previously thought, as she proves in the film that she can both dance and sing in addition to act, cry convincingly and be beautiful. I am jealous to the point of homicidal rage.

So, anyway, after the movie, we left the theatre to discover that Jenny had locked her keys in her car. The first thing I said was, "Do you have AAA?" She didn't. That's when we realized that we didn't know what to do. She called her cousin, Kimo, who lived nearby and I called our font of useful information friend, Amber. Kimo agreed to come with a clothes hanger and Amber informed us that should we need to, we could call a tow company or a locksmith. Let it be now noted that it was about 50 degrees and I was wearing a skirt and a tee-shirt. Yes. I tried to keep mental control over my temperature as Kimo tried his clothes hanger trick. After 15 minutes, I could no longer feel my legs. Soon, a Lynnwood Community Patrol vehicle approached and offered aid. They had slim jims and tools and I was convinced that we would be in the car in no time, which was good, because my soul was beginning to separate from my body. 15 minutes later, I asked Kimo if I could sit in his car. I slowly re-entered the world of the living. Half an hour later, the fake po-po gave up. Jenn called a locksmith who was there in 10 minutes and jimmied the lock in 5.

I offered to marry him. He was already married, though.

i'm so very sorry...my contrition completely dwarfs the impending apocalypse

The headline reads: "Kevin Spacey: 'I fell for a con.'" I don't know about you, but I was fully expecting some lurid details on Kevin's hot and spicy affair with this guy. But nooooo. Instead, this. How tragically misleading...although methinks The Spacey is leaving out a few details. Like the part where he and the guy who stole his phone make out.

In other news, Heather celebrated her 25th birthday this past Friday...I believe I can safely say that good times were had by all. The evening started off with a bullet of fun--at the restaurant, Jeremy and I ordered the same dish and he felt the need to request that his be spicier because, as you know, if I, a woman, were to out-spice him, a man, his entire masculine world would have come crashing down around his shoulders. Consequently, Jeremy spent the rest of the meal chugging water, sweating profusely and holding back tears. How very manly. It reminded me of the time Freshman year when a bunch of us were out at that Mongolian Grill place and Jason Shamai was all: Pile on the chili and the pepper and the spice and the hot sauce! I can take it! I'm a man. And then, when he put the first bite in his mouth, all he could do was sob and shrilly cry: "I'm a fucking woman!"

Other highlights included: Heather's throaty karaoke rendition of Midnight Train To Georgia, nummy sherbet, the guy in the kilt, my inexplicable urge to steal Jade's wonderful handbag and the indie-mod, big bang-wearing super adorable young man with whom I shared two or three meaningful, prolonged looks. But, alas, our love will never come to fruition as he lives in Tacoma and I reside in Seattle and never the twain shall meet...except on random, beer-soaked Friday nights.

Reader Comments (squarespace)
Yes, fun times. I later asked Jeremy if he felt weird about being the only guy, and he said "Not after a few beers." He then added, "Plus, Ahe's practically like a dude." I cracked up and told I'd have to tell you that, and he was worried you'd beat him up. I assured him you'd think it was AWESOME! Heh...
that's AWESOME! being dude-like is cool, so long as it's not followed by "in appearance."


how do you speak glowingly about a girl who rode to school on a broomstick?

So, I am now officially as old as dirt. I had a remarkably nice birthday weekend, the high point of which was my three and a half hour visit to the Woodland Park Zoo. Dude, they have EVERYTHING there. Tigers, Snow Leopards, Jaguars, Malayan Sun Bears, Ocelots, Tapirs, the coolest reptile house ever, penguins, oh, and leeeetle teeny monkeys. I was a bit saddened that there was no boa constrictor because I was looking forward to reenacting the reptile house scene from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
Some things I learned at the zoo:

  • Kingsnakes totally kick rattlesnake ass
  • Tapirs are weird, but cool at the same time
  • Zebras stripes angle towards their bums
  • Elephants eat whatever they fucking feel like eating
  • Sonic the Hedgehog is not an accurate representation of the species
  • It's funny when little kids think monkeys are cats
    Once you get the opening African call from The Lion King stuck in your head, there's no getting it out


how did you get the tiny men to stop singing?

Just so you know, my birthday is next week Sunday. Yeah, Easter Sunday, my stupid birthday is on stupid Easter which means all the restaurants will be fair teeming with fucking families and kids in pastel colored bonnets. Stupid Easter with your stupid eggs and your stupid chocolate bunnies. Mmm...chocolate bunnies. Eh. Considering the candyical benefits of this particular holiday, I guess I can't hate it just because I can't get reservations anywhere.

You know, if my birthday is on the same day that our lord and savior rose from the dead does that mean I get like...better presents? Because even though I specifically asked for David Boreanaz last year, not a one of my bastard friends delivered and I was right disappointed. You must all make up for it by getting me loads of presents. Loads.

Oh, and yes, I would still like David Boreanaz for my birthday. And please, remember to put airholes in the box. I don't want a repeat of last year's Orlando Bloom fiasco.