I’m in reality heaven

Project Runway debuted tonight! Yay!! I’m so excited mainly because I didn’t realize it was starting. I looked at my TiVo roster for the day, and voila! There it was. A brand new season premiere episode of Project Runway with lots of attitudinal designers. I can’t wait to watch them all systematically tear their asses with the judges. If I were the perky type, I would squeal with glee. But me? Not so much.

Recently I’ve realized just how perky I’m NOT. Largely because I work with the perkiest of the perky. They’re very sweet but, frankly? All that perkiness gets on my freakin’ last nerve. Especially in the morning.

I’m the weird kind of morning person that can get a ton of shit done, but really doesn’t want to be spoken to. I hate making idol chit-chat in the morning. Starbuck’s in the morning drives me nuts. If it weren’t for my latest addiction — the Spinach Feta wrap — I wouldn’t visit.

BTW, The Spinach Feta wrap is pure deliciousness.

Okay, so this isn’t the most appetizing picture, but I guarantee that it’s tasty. Not advertised in the title of the item are the sundried tomatoes, which really make the flavor of this wrap. Yummy.

The trouble is that, when you get a cooked item in Starbuck’s, they ask for your name so that they can bellow it at the tops of their lungs when it’s ready (as opposed to just finding the person standing eagerly beside the counter with her arm extended).

There are a couple of perky workers in this Starbuck’s. I’ve blogged about this before. There used to be one principal perky man, and now there’s another. They have quite a bit in common. They’re both black, they both have voices that carry and resonate, and they both enjoy talking too much while they’re working (thus slowing the movement of the line), making small talk that nobody wants to engage in at 7:30 am.

To add insult to injury, I’m such a creature of habit that they’ve now become accustomed to my near-daily spinach feta wrap order, and feel the need to comment every morning. “You must be jonesing for that wrap!” “Getting your usual this morning?” “Ready for that wrap?”

In and of itself, these aren’t bad things. They think they’re making their customers feel at home, which has been proven to solidify a customer base. I totally get it.

But I’m kinda weird. And I prefer anonymity. If they notice that I’m ordering a spinach feta wrap every day, I almost wish they’d shut up about it.

It’s not that deep, though. The second that I leave Starbucks with my hot steamy wrap, I forget all about the perky Starbuck’s boys, because that’s when the real stress begins.

At least I don’t eat my wrap in the bathroom.

New column and another nasty bathroom violation

Another column released yesterday. It’s about men who secretly date other men. Click here to check it out. Be afraid. Be VERY afraid.

So . . . a few posts ago, I wrote about Nasty Bathroom Girl who puts her food on the floor of the stall while she relieves herself (I nearly threw up just writing that). Well . . . the other day I went into the bathroom and heard crunching coming from one of the stalls.

Crunching, like eating chips.

In fact, it WAS a person eating chips. I looked on the floor of the closed stall — hoping that I wouldn’t see what I did, which was an OPEN BAG of chips laying there. I never received confirmation — because I got the hell out of there ASAP — but the person in there was probably Nasty Bathroom Girl — because who else would think it was a good idea to idea while taking a dump???

WTF???

home sick today

I’m breaking my impeccable record by having to remain home today and nurse my illness. I’m not happy about it, and I’m working anyway. I felt that, if I continued to go at my pace, I would end up with some nasty form of pneumonia, which would REALLY suck.

So, here I am . . .

I’m contemplating defrosting some of my famous chicken soup that I reserved for these very occasions, but I’m too damned lazy. Isn’t that pathetic?

Nap time.

it’s official

I have a full-blown cold with all the trimmings - runny nose, aches, pains, you name it. I’m an unhappy girl. And I have SO much work to do, dammit!!!!

active ingredient, my ass!

So, I’m somewhat sick. Translation: I don’t have a runny nose or fever, but I’m coughing a lot and I feel a bit of congestion in my chest. I went to the local (ghetto) Walgreen’s to look for a remedy.

The thing to know about me is that I have no fear of generic brands that have the same active ingredient. If it contains the same percentage and it’s $3 cheaper, why not? I’m sick so infrequently that it hardly matters, right? Yeah . . . not so much.

I was reading the boxes, trying to determine which would be the right medicine for me.

Do I have a runny nose, fever, sinus irritation? Nope

Do I have a sinus headache combined with chest congestion and a cough. Almost, but not quite.

Do I have watery, itchy eyes with a runny nose, fever and chills? No. Thank God.

Do I need a drowsy formula? Hell no.

Am I light-headed with extreme hunger and a desire to laugh at things that aren’t funny? Translation: am I high? No. But at this point, I wouldn’t mind.

Finally I found the right formula: cough with chest congestion.

Right next to the Robitussin, I found the Walgreen’s product. Same symptoms, same active ingredient, $3 less. Bingo.

Well . . . now I’m home, and I took this other (inferior) Tussin product, and I’ve decided that I need the Robi, because something is awry with my Tussin. Whatever the hell is in Tussin, it apparently needs the Robi to get the wellness party started.

Not only have I notstopped coughing, but I think I’ve coughed more in the last hour than I have all day. There’s a rumble in my chest so loud that it scared Phoebe, who was trying to sleep peacefully on my left (serves the little brat right for meowing in my face in the morning, but I digress . . . ).

I have no idea how I’m going to sleep tonight. Do you know what lack of sleep means? That’s right . . . more sickness.

WTF?? No more Tussin for me. It’s Robi all the way.

happy belated 4th

I was too busy partying to blog.

I have a week to catch everyone up on. I was in DC last week for a wedding (June 28th). It was absolutely amazing. The groom is one of my best friends, and the bride — whom I only recently met — is also a very sweet person. I saw them while I was in NY over Memorial Day weekend, and the bride was stressing over wedding plans, but it all came together so nicely. The wedding was really well done. The ceremony itself was held at National Cathedral.

I loved it that they didn’t have any of those little wedding giveaways, like whistles with their names engraved. Once you hit a certain age, those things lose their luster — and let’s face it . . . who really wants to pack something extra. Not I.

I arrived home after the wedding, full of good food and even better memories, just in time to prepare for the 4th of July.

The theme of the week was sleep deprivation. And I’m paying for it today.

Here’s the exciting recap:

Thursday, July 3rd
Work until 2 (yes, I got railroaded in to working longer than expected!)
Go home, eat, change into dress, pack a bag of casual clothes
Go to my 5:00 nail appointment
Attend a wedding at the Park West at 7:00
Leave the wedding at 11:00 pm
Change clothes in my car (on a dark street), and go to the next party at Green Dolphin (more about that later)
Arrive home at 3:30 am. Tipsy.

Friday, July 4th
Sleep as late as possible, which for me only means that I slept until about 9:00 am
Begin watching Design Star marathon, and eventually force myself to get my lazy ass off the couch
Attempt to bake a cake (an effort that was thwarted by my new oven, which spontaneously turned itself off)
Throw batter down the garbage disposal, frustrated
Arrive at friend J’s for barbecue at 4:00 with a big bottle of Malibu Rum in hand
Receive many hugs from J’s alcoholic relatives who LOVE Malibu Rum. I’d never met them before, but I’m pretty sure they really REALLY like me now.
Eat
Play with godchildren (the only kids that I will truly play with)
Eat
Eat
Invite the family alkies from J’s barbecue to join me at Legend’s to see Dad play, fully expecting them to decline
They accepted!
Arrive Legend’s at 10:45.
Buy the crew a round of lemon drop shots.
They like the shots and return the favor.
A couple of times.
Remain until 1:00 am.
Sauced.

Saturday, July 5th
Wake up not feeling so good.
Not good at all.
Not in a hangover sort of way, but in a goddammit-I-caught-a-fucking-cold way.
No matter, still need to meet L. for lunch at 12:00 noon
Eat and drink lots of tea
Go to a HUGE picnic (The Old School picnic) at 4:00
Dance. I didn’t feel well, but the music seduced me.
Talk. Didn’t really feel like talking either, but ran into people I hadn’t seen since . . . well . . .the last picnic, I guess.
Remain until 8:30. Needed to get the hell out of there before it got dark.
Stop at the noodles place to get soothing soup. I thought I was staying home.
Got a call from friend C.
Meet friend C. @ his aunt’s house to meet his relatives
Return to J’s for more cocktails w/alkie relatives
So much for couch time.

Sunday, July 6th
Still not feeling well
Oh well, still have to have brunch w/C. and family
Get my arm twisted to shoe shop w/C’s visiting sister
Return home @ 3:30
Get picked up @ 5:30 by Dad to go to a Caribbean festival
He tricked me — said he would be there for an hour. We were there for 3.
Got mad — was REALLY not feeling well — but refrained from yelling at him
Returned home.
Watched TiVo of Design Star
Slept. Finally.

More info than you needed, right?

Weeds

Does anyone watch Weeds? I love that show. My favorite line from tonight’s show –

“You’re fucked like a stray dog in Chinatown.”

Ha!

sugar + liquor = helluva hangover

As a young adult, my father told me that I should drink liquor as close to straight as possible. The mixers are what kills you, he said.

And no, my father was not trying to create a burgeoning alcoholic. He’s a musician, and if he doesn’t know, who does? He was merely trying to minimize my hours of misery after partying. Like everyone else, I had my fill of wine coolers in my early drinking days, and learned my lesson on several occasions after suffering from hours of drinking fruity concoctions.

In recent years I’ve taken his advice to heart. I either drink vodka tonics (very little tonic, and lots of lime), wine, or Maker’s Mark (yep, I said it. And I drink it neat.)

Last night, I violated my policy. I went to a house party, where there was a menu of pre-mixed drinks. They were fruity with plenty of mixers, liqueurs and — yikes! — grain alcohol. They weren’t offering anything outside of this menu, so I reluctantly asked for a cup of punch.

BTW, the last time I went to a party where there was a pre-made punch, I alarmed other guests by walking into the kitchen and saying “Oh, there’s punch? Cool!! Who brought the Rohypnol??” I spent the rest of the night referring to it as “date rape punch,” which thrilled the host. What? I was joking!! Jeez! But I digress . . .

I nursed the punch for a while. It was WAY too sweet, not highly tasty. After 1/2 cup, I abandoned it for a glass of water. But the damage was already done.

Later, I flirted my way to a bootleg vodka w/sprite. The quasi bartender made it especially for me, and I drank it, even though I would have preferred tonic. Another bad move. Sprite = sugar.

I was totally rocked, and ended up exchanging flirty text messages with a person with whom I have a great deal of sexual tension. I think I passed out before his last message was delivered. I’m sure he thinks I’m insane.

So, woke up this morning with a raging headache. I NEVER get hangovers, so I’m a big baby whenever I do. I refused to get out of bed, and wasted the day, which pissed me off. I’m a “make hay when the sun is shining” type of gal. I even missed my brunch, although I could have completely used the pancakes. I rotate between a group of girls for brunch, and I totally missed my rotation, which means that I’m thrown off for about month.

Lesson learned — lay off the mixed drinks!! Dad was right, as always.

late in life and annoying bathroom habits

So, I was listening to DREX in the morning on KISS FM, as I often do whenever I drive to work — which I now try to minimize since my monthly gas expenditure is threatening to exceed my mortgage. The topic was about meeting the family of a significant other. A man called in and said “I got married later in life — when I was 29.” I nearly busted a gut. 29!?! Since when is 29 considered to be later in life?? I think I might know one person who was married by 29 — and not only that but I maintain that you don’t really know yourself until you hit 30.

That was a good laugh for the morning. I sent a “LMAO” text message to DREX co-host Mel T. I occasionally text her when there’s a particularly interesting (or skanky) caller. She didn’t respond this morning, so she must have been really engrossed. She’s a champion texter, and can work that Sidekick like no other.

Now for the coworker traits. I consider myself to be pretty fortunate in that I like most of my colleagues. This hasn’t always been the case. I’ve worked in places where I swore that I was immersed in a coven.

There are few things worse than bad woman dynamics at work. The difference between disagreements between men versus women is that men prefer aboveground combat. With women, it’s submarine warfare. The surface is still, but it’s a very different story 20 feet below. The last “real” job before this one — not including my many years as a freelancer — was a hellhole. My department was 99% comprised of women, and it was a nightmare. I made a few really good lifelong friends there, but there were a few people who brought out the absolute worst of my borderline anger management issues. At least once, I had to keep myself from jumping across the desk and throttling someone (thus avoiding both jail, and the “angry black woman” label).

Again, I’m very fortunate in my current position. There’s a nice blend of men and women, and the women are very nice and supportive. However . . . their niceness doesn’t preclude them from doing strange things. Some of the women have bad bathroom habits (and because I don’t use the men’s room, I have no knowledge of what the men are doing. Thank God!!!).

- There are a few hand-washer offenders — they run their hands briefly under a short stream of water without the benefit of soap.

- Another one that I find perplexing and downright disgusting is a woman who brings food into the bathroom. That’s right, she’ll take a bagel INTO THE STALL WITH HER, and rest it ON THE FLOOR on a flimsy napkin. How about grabbing that bagel on the way back into the kitchen? Or perhaps leaving in on the counter in the vanity area, if you simply must bring it into the bathroom with you. Eww.

- The most annoying of all are those who can’t be bothered to put their toilet seat cover IN the toilet and flush it when they’re done. I don’t get it — it takes a few minutes to put the thing on the toilet, why in the world would anyone LEAVE it there?? I guess the next person is supposed to come along and handle your butt paper?? Double ewww. I don’t know who’s doing it, although it’s entertaining to figure out who it might be. I’ve been trying to narrow it down by who’s in the office on the day that it happens. It’s like my own little murder mystery — except nobody dies, and theoretically nobody could go to jail.

I’ve succumbed . . .

. . . to Facebook!

My name is Gina Bee. Find me, and friend me up!