Category Archives: Trifeness

General trife and hilarious stories, some embarrassing to Miss Sassy Pants, some embarrassing to others, but all in general very trife. Holler to my original sophomore year roomie for coining this term, and holler to Miss Sassy Pants for lovingly overusing it.

What I would do with 4 extra hours OR Hokie Nation Syndrome

This is funny. WordPress has this little thingy that’s like “Do you need ideas for your next post?” And I was like, “Well yes, WordPress, I could use a couple ideas, thanks!” And one of the ideas was to “describe what you would do with an extra 4 hours in the day,” and I’m going to write about it. Because I like the idea.

Today I could have used an extra hour of sleep. So that first hour would have gone to that. Done.

A second hour would have been dedicated to breakfast at Denny’s. Nothing’s better than a workday that starts with a breakfast combo of eggs, muffin, double order of hashbrowns and a side of pancakes. Done.

Hours three and four would be devoted probably to work or the other blog. Or redoing a piece of furniture or designing some new stationery. Done.

BUT if it was summer time, those 4 hours would be devoted strictly to beach time or pool time. Probably beach time. Because the beach is just better.

If it was tomorrow, I’d have 4 extra hours to tailgate. 4 extra hours to drive to Blacksburg and not take away from tailgating time. 4 extra hours to celebrate an awesome victory over Clemson. 4 extra hours to jump up and down to some Metallica and go crazy for Virginia Tech football. THAT would be AMAZING.

If I had 4 extra hours today I’d go nuts because it’d be THAT much longer until gameday. GO HOKIES!!!!!!!

Productivity today just went down the toilet. I’ve dubbed it Hokie Nation Syndrome. So now if anyone comes up to me today and asks why the heck I’m not getting anything done, I’ll just look at them and say, “I’m sorry, I have Hokie Nation Syndrome. There’s only one cure. GAMEDAY.”

The end. Shortest post ever. Can’t wait to kick some Tiger tail, ya’ll.

Until next time, Cheers!

Holy Delayed Posting Schedule!

You guys. It’s been like a million years since my last post. The other day a friend of mine said, “Dude. What happened to MSP?” I was like, “What’s MSP?” He was like, “Um, your blog?” And I was like, “OMG! Totes forgot about that!” So here we are.

Obviously J-playin on that part about forgetting. But life has been insane busy.

Because I started another blog! I know! OMG! It’s called Sara Elizabeth Designs and it’s about design stuff. And craft stuff. And do-it-yourself stuff. And also it will be about stuff I sell in my Etsy store which is opening soon. So go check it out, because I’ve spent the past few months putting it together (like, I built the website and stuff), and I’m super loving it and hope you will too.

But MSP is not going to stop working on trife stuff so here we are and here we go. Let’s jump back in with a couple rando’s.

1. I’m apartment searching. It totally blows huge chunks. It makes me feel like I need to be making at least $30,000 more dollars per week to afford to live in a place that’s not surrounded by hoodlums and cockroaches. This is obviously not the case because I have a pretty decent job that pays me pretty decently. And Raleigh is inexpensive compared to, say, NYC or Boston. I really can’t complain. But apparently I have swanky taste in neighborhoods and apartments which my salary does not quite live up to. It’s disappointing.

I have a few appointments this weekend to view a couple places, one of which I already know I can’t afford so I’m obviously going to fall deeply in love with it and cry for days because I can’t make it mine. This is the time that I think I need a husband to share my super swanky apartment with. Or a boyfriend. Which I actually have, only he doesn’t live where I live and also a boyfriend living with me would incite comments like this from my mother: “How does it feel to be living in sin, Sara?” That doesn’t sound fun.

2. Little Rosie is apparently making some funny noises. This is not cool since funny noises = spending lots of money which I’m trying to save for the aforementioned apartment. Woohoo!

3. I finally came up with a nickname for my bf. The Bear. Isn’t that cute! And manly, obviously. So if I ever have a story to tell about him, he’ll be known as The Bear. I must have a thing for animals since my bff is The Fox and bf is The Bear. Fox and Bear. Bear and Fox. Isn’t there a movie or something…oh! The Fox and the Hound. Whatever. It came to me a couple days ago randomly and I was super proud and wanted to share. The other day I was reading a favorite blog of mine by Anna White, Homemaker, whose husband is called The RAM on her blog. They live in Alaska, and he does things like build his own home by himself from scratch with timber he cuts himself before he goes out and uses a homemade spear to get an elk for dinner. RAM stands for Real Alaska Man. HOT. I want her husband, in a hypothetical way. Anyway, it inspired me to nickname my own manly man, who is not Alaskan, but still hot.

4. I re-joined a gym. I think it’d be hilarious to look back on the past two years of this blog and see how many posts I talked about working out or going to the gym. Lots. And then if we had a log of how much I’ve weighed in correspondence to the posting of posts about the gym. It would be an interesting study. Anyway, I’m in a wedding for my bff from 5th grade’s wedding in like 3 weeks and need to be skinny for that jank. The camera adds 10 pounds so they say, so it’s time to get to work. There are still cute boys that frequent this gym, only I’m so dedicated to getting in shape and being healthy (and skinny, yes) that I don’t even notice them. They look at me funny when I’m on the bench and I’m like, “Fool, get out my way.” Then I’m like, “No, I don’t need a spotter. Spotters are for bitches.” And then I usually add, “And no, you’re not cute.” Plus the whole bf thing I mentioned above. Anyway. Getting in shape is hard when you’re out of shape. It’s easy to be in shape, but getting there is like a long and winding road. That leads to your door / Will never disappear / I’ve seen that road before…

Beatles. Gotta love them.

5. I’m really excited about the new blog so I’m going to talk about it again. Go there. Read it. Enjoy it. Do some of your own projects and send them to me and I’ll feature you. It’ll be super awesome. Check out my store and get yourself some new bedroom lighting or some greeting cards (soon). Or an original graphic art print. Or just waste a couple minutes reading. Either way it’ll excite me and make me happy to have you.

6. I promise to do better with posts. I didn’t know so many people enjoyed reading it until I stopped posting and people were all like “YO! What the DEAL?!” And I was like, “Um, sorry peeps!” So here I am. Hope you’ve enjoyed some rando’s and I look forward to seeing you back here in the near future. Promise.

I want to be friends with Hov and B

Hello, Beyonce is pregnant. I know this isn’t breaking news by the time I post this but as I write, it is breaking and it is awesome.

I watched only part of the VMA’s on Sunday due to the fact that Roomz and I don’t have cable. We diligently texted some friends we thought might be down for a VMA’s-watching party but to no avail. We kind of waited until the last minute so it’s really our fault. Then Roomz resorted to trying to find a live stream of them online somewhere. Apparently there was a live stream of some people watching the VMA’s but not of the VMA’s themselves. Odd.

Anyway. Plan D was to head to a local mexican joint where a friend works. Said friend had indicated this joint’s one and only TV was tuned to MTV, so we were down. Roomz wanted a Marg anyway. And so did I actually but as I stated earlier, I’m going alcohol free for a while. So uncool.

ANYWAY. Due to the lateness of our tune-in, we missed the big birth announcement. As I was leaving the house, I took a gander at my Twitter feed and saw Macho Harris (my bff obviously) say something about Beyonce being with child. Since no one else had commented thus far (cough PEOPLE MAG) I wasn’t sure I believed it. No offense, Macho. You’re still in my top 5 most favorite football players ever.

So I arrive at the restaurant and Roomz is all like, “OMG Beyonce is PREGGERS!” And I was all, “OMG NO WAY!!” We were excited.

Then a little while later when Beyonce took the stage, I was so hyped because 1) super love the song she sang. 2) She has awesome pipes. Gurl can sing for realz. She totally should have won that MJ award. 3) Super loved the MJ-tribute outfits. 4) She began her song with some comment about feeling the love growing inside of her. I teared up a little bit. 5) Jay-Z’s face every time they showed him while she was singing, and Kanye all patting him on the back like “yeah that’s my man” and whatever. You know that thing they do when they half cover their mouths while they smile/laugh and point at each other. Adorbs. And 6) At the end of the song when she un-buttoned her jacket and gave her tummy a little rub with a big smile I just DIED.

Because seriously. Who hasn’t loved Beyonce since Bills, Bills, Bills?! Destiny’s Child ya’ll, when she was like 12 years old. Maybe it was me who was 12. Whatever. Huge fan. Plus who also doesn’t like her name. Even Ma likes her name. She always says “Beyonce like fiance!” Yes Ma, you right. Also I super love Solange but that’s beside the point.

Then when Destiny’s Child broke up I was slightly devastated. But then Beyonce started singing on her own, and then she was acting, and THEN she did the most awesomest of awesome things and MARRIED JAY-Z. You guys. Seriously. Le Fox says they’re like America’s royalty and I totally agree. Since we don’t have actual royalty, I feel like we have a lot of power couples who sort of claim this status. Brad + Angelina, though no one is surprised when she gets pregnant now or adopts yet another starving child. I feel like I wouldn’t be this excited or happy if the freaking First Lady was pregnant. Plus celebs are getting pregnant like mad these days, who even cares? Except for Beyonce.

Beyonce and Jay-Z are like I can’t even explain it. They’re amazing. Beyonce is, as Britney said, a triple-threat. I would say even quadruple or quint-whatever threat. She can do anything. Then we have Jay-Z. From Brooklyn, yo. He’s like SO the man in so many ways. I love his rap songs. I love his clothing line. I love that he owns like 50% of America and you don’t even know it. I find out things he owns all the time and I’m all like, WHAT?? That’s Jay-Z? Who knew?! Kind of like Warren Buffett only with tons of additional talent and way cooler.

If they ever split up, I will definitely be really sad. There are lots of celeb couples that last less than 5 seconds and we get so excited about it and gushy, like, “omg they are so cute together!!” And then the next minute they’re split up, but according to their reps, everything is fine and it was mutual, obviously. If Jay-Z and B ever split, not only will they have to share a child and a massive fortune, it will just be devastating for all of America.

When they first got together I recall mostly I thinking, um, he’s not that good looking, and plus isn’t he like way old? But then they had that song together about Bonnie and Clyde I thought obviously they’re meant for each other. I can tell by the way he raps her name: “B!” Duh. Love knows no age. And then they were just so adorbs with the announcement of their pending god-child, it’s like the same in my head as when Kate and Wills eventually announce their future King or Queen of England.

B + Hov = King of America. Who’s with me? I can’t wait to see massive features in every gossip mag that exists on B’s awesome preggers style, how much she’s glowing and all of that. It’s going to be so fun.

And I obviously can’t wait to see what they name the child. With names like Beyonce and Jay-Z, it’s got to be good. Plus Jay is so good with nicknames, it seems.

No Fun Zone Eating: If Oprah can do it, so can I

You guys, huge news. Maybe not huge. But if you know me as the cheesy bacon potato and corn dog with a side of milkshake queen, you will be shocked.

I’m doing a vegan cleanse.

I know. It’s totally insane. I’ve lost my mind maybe. It’s simultaneously awesome and terrible. Turrible even. I haven’t eaten cheese in any form in 8 days. I haven’t had cereal with a big tall glass of milk. I haven’t been to Chick-fil-a. I haven’t gotten a late-night corn dog from Cookout. In. Sane.

I heard from a friend of mine that he had recently finished doing this vegan cleanse with his fiance. I was intrigued. What does one do for a vegan cleanse? And how does one come up with such an idea if one is not intent on becoming a vegan?


Obviously. Where else do we get self-improvement ideas?! So I did some research. Apparently, Oprah discovered some famous vegan lady’s book all about the vegan lifestyle, in which she also discusses a 21-day (or 30 day or 14 day or even 7 day) vegan cleanse. In which one follows the vegan lifestyle plus a couple other awful rules: no animal products of any kind including meat, dairy, eggs, etc. No gluten. No sugar, no caffeine, and no alcohol. Yikes.

Oprah did it with a specialty vegan chef living at her house for the duration. I tried to hire him, but he was booked for the duration of my 21 days unfortunately. He was all like, “girl, I’m busy starving celebrities, call back next month.” Fine.

As you’ve read before, I’m sort of the queen of potatoes (gluten), hot dogs (piggies), and an afternoon snack of cheetos and M&Ms (um, need I specify). So I obviously decide I’m going to take this challenge on, though I also obviously wait for my fun summer trips to be over. Namely one of my best friend’s weddings at which we enjoyed awesome southern food which does not ever equal vegan or gluten free or sugar free or, duh, alcohol free. That would be just silly. I’m not a martyr.

So 9 days ago on Monday, August 22nd, I went to the grocery store (Whole Foods) (if ever there was a vegan grocery store in the southern suburbs, it’s Whole Foods) (They don’t sell cheetos in case you’re wondering) and prepared myself for what I have deemed “no fun zone” eating. I also had Chick-fil-a for my “goodbye normal food” lunch. It’s turning out to be sort of fun, in the way that getting dressed up for work is kind of fun, until you actually get to work and then you’re all like, oh wait, I’m at work, this kind of stinks.

So we’re on day 8. And never have I wanted a little bag of cheetos so badly for so many days in a row. I am craving things I didn’t even know I liked, ya’ll. It is pretty turrible. My team went to Bojangles last week on day 2 of my challenge and invited me along. And even by day 2 I was like OMG I would LOVE a Bojangles biscuit right now, with spicy fried chicken and a side of french fries. Yes please. But I shocked myself by saying, no thanks, I’m going home to eat leftover stir fry. What?!

So day 8, as I said. It’s awful, but it’s also simultaneously awesome. I actually love having a big bowl of fruit for breakfast, which I am not motivated to do when I could grab a muffin or poptart much quicker on the way out the door. Plus who would choose fruit over marshmallows for breakfast. No one, except me, post vegan brainwash. And I’m enjoying the challenge. Kickball last week was super weird without drinking, and I definitely got made fun of (obviously) but I prevailed. And I didn’t have a single nacho from the [free] massive loaded plate we get every time. I’m like the goddess of refusing temptation now. 

Try me.

Actually don’t, it only makes me sad.

Also I haven’t weighed myself (so bad for my self-esteem) (especially when I’m hormonal) but I’m pretty sure I’ve dropped a pound or two or three or so in the past 8 days. Which is good since I just received the custom made bridesmaid’s dress I’m supposed to wear for my 5th grade bff’s wedding in October. The polite way of putting things is that the dress is a bit snug. Probably because I guessed my measurements instead of actually measuring myself. Or maybe because I’m powerless against Cookout milkshakes. Regardless, this diet is doing me some good.

Things I have learned since going temporarily vegan and gluten-free and alcohol free and etc.-free: potatoes, in their natural state, are gluten free. Score. Corn is gluten free. Brown rice is gluten free. I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not-Butter Spray is amazing and tastes just like real butter. Side note: what the heck is this stuff made out of?? It has no fat, no calories, no sodium, no sugar, no nothing. It’s like air. That tastes like butter. And looks like butter. I do not understand but I do not question since a potato with even fake butter is better than a potato with nothing.

I’ve also learned that a potato with olive oil is delish. And that I super enjoy tomato soup even when not made with milk and without the shredded cheese on top (though rest assured when this jank is over, I will go back to eating tomato soup the right way: with milk and lots of cheese). And I actually like raisins a little bit. And I super love squash and zucchini and peppers. And I can get creative with salads. And I made home-made potato chips with no butter or oil or anything fattening. SO CRAZY.

But I still hate tofu. Only 12 more days.

Unrelated: 4 more days until college football kickoff and the return of HOKIE FOOTBALL. Woowoo!

Traffic + hipsters = NYC

I recently returned from a stellar weekend to everyone’s favorite hipster city, NYC. It was an awesome time. I stayed in Brooklyn for the first time and got to experience some normal Brooklyn things instead of doing the extreme tourist itinerary on the other side of the bridge. Seems to me that life on the two sides is so different, yet so very similar. But I live in North Carolina, which some New Yorkers consider to be country-bumpkin-ville, so what do I know?

Anywho. It astounds me the amount of traffic there is in NYC. Not just Manhattan, but everywhere. Cars, cabs, buses, trucks, bikes. Not to mention the people traffic. Not only are big motor vehicle intersections backed up, but the people-traffic is horrendous as well. I guess when you have millions of people living in like 2 square miles or whatever it is, that’s what happens.

Also I learned that subway drivers are mean and ruthless people who need a hug and some sweet tea, and have a bruise to prove it. Nothing screams “I don’t live here” like getting slammed between closing subway doors. Good times.

But back to the traffic. It’s funny that every person I currently know, have known, heard of, or even seen on TV that lives in NYC in any borough, any neighborhood, don’t actually own a motor vehicle. So my question is, WHO are all these people on the road, and WHY are they driving? Obviously most are cabs, which makes sense since there are tons of people who don’t drive or have cars. But seriously. Did the rest of them just not get the message about the bad traffic?

I know I could never move up there and give away my precious Rose. Or lend her to my mother. I love driving and I love specifically driving my car. I just love her. See previous love note to little Rose to prove my point. Thusly why I could never bring her to NYC. Numerous times whilst traveling/crawling the streets of a cab I thought we might lose our lives and/or get hit by another insane vehicle. And you guys. I’m an aggressive driver. But apparently defining aggressive driver in NYC is different from any other place in these united states. Like, I think “aggressive” in NC means you drive 7 over the speed limit versus 4. But I already stood on that soap box.

Once, while on the way back to Brooklyn in the rain, our cabbie got rear-ended in bumper to bumper traffic. It wasn’t a major hit, but it wasn’t a light tap either. I sort of gasped and was startled by being hit and jostled a bit in the back seat. I’m no pansy but I mean, you know. So our cabbie grumbles quietly and calmly, puts the car in park, gets out of the cab and gestures to the car behind us. I miss the gesture because of my limited view out of the window. But I think we can all guess. Then he got back in the cab and grumbled about his car being a piece of junk. Something about how “they make dees things outta tin cans dees days!”

Rest assured if anyone bumped me in traffic, we’d be on the side of the road having a come to Jesus. Tin cans or not.

Also, has anyone looked through the Urban Outfitters catalog recently? I think they just take some cameras to Brooklyn and Queens and take pictures of the hipsters in their natural habitats. I look through the pages of that thing and think…ok maybe this pair of shoes I could wear to work but NOT with high waist parachute pants, a crop top that says “kissing is fun,” and feathered fedora. Also I would probably brush my hair. Right? It’s like going to Richmond – VCU’s Richmond – on the weekends. Or certain neighborhoods in San Francisco. Or this one art gallery in Raleigh where all the hipsters hang. In Brooklyn it’s like they sent out a casting call for all hipsters anywhere looking for other hipsters to listen to weird music and eat organic corn meal together or something. And they all responded with zest and took over the entire borough and then some.

Totally  no offense to hipsters, if you’re a hipster and you’re reading this. As I say, we’re all God’s children. This is Amurica and you can dress and do however and whatever you want. High five. I just sort of wish that “hipsters” would stop thinking they’re so original and unique and different. Because there’s kind of a lot of you, and sometimes it’s kind of scary.

Plus, just because I don’t wear a shirt that proclaims how I feel about kissing, doesn’t mean I don’t have a strong opinion on the subject.

On a serious note, I had a blast in Brooklyn, doing the local thing like I live there. Taking trains everywhere, wearing a cross-body bag, and flowery, sort of vintage/thrift looking dress (from Target obviousy, because I live in the suburbs where we buy everything at Target or similar big box store. If only there was a cool, hip word associated with being a suburbanite). Only thing that gave me away is my Rainbow flip flops. And the fact that my bag wasn’t made from hemp or some other kind of organic material that smells weird. It’s leather. Or faux leather…not sure which one is more offensive.

On a more personal note, and to reiterate the fact that I indeed had a bangin time: it was an awesome reunion with my former fellow worker bee, Queenie (who lives in Brooklyn…maybe a name change is in order) and my favorite fellow blogger Mr. Smarty Pants and his gf and my fellow shoe loving friend Miss Fancy Boots (that was a crazy run-on sentence! I don’t feel like fixing it). For the record, I am the inventor of her smoking awesome nickname.

Also for the record, the two of them have a super awesome apartment, all decorated grown-up like with no posters or plastic folding chairs. Continuing with the record, staying with Queenie and seeing everyone’s awesomely hip apartments makes me yearn even more for my own space.

Soon, grasshopper. Soon.

Anatomy of an LOL

I was just reminiscing the other day with someone about AIM. Side note: you know you are getting old when you are old enough to reminisce about anything ever. But back to AIM. Anyone remember good old AOL Instant Messenger? I know right. I’m dating myself. And not to say that I’m dating myself like old people say it when they say something like “I graduated in 19…well it’ll make me sound old if I tell you.” I mean, it seems that of my generation (which I believe is “Y” or “the Millenials”), only a small portion of us even used AIM. Mostly because it was in and out so quickly, having been replaced by a billion other faster and better instant messaging platforms, texting, Facebook, etc. AOL couldn’t keep up I guess.


Back to the reminiscing. I think AIM (and Yahoo and whatever else…for shortness sake let’s stick with the acronym) really paved the way for abbreviations. People who had not ever taken a proper typing class were prone 2 typing like this, not using rel spllings, tking out imprtnt vwls and using #s to portray thoughts. And things like LOL and TTYL and wait, that’s the yearbook sorry. We had some new acronyms to remember. I remember when LMAO and LMFAO or whatever it was became popular, I could not for my life figure out what it stood for. I was obviously teased for not knowing this, since back in those days, knowing and being familiar with various uses of curse words, especially those beginning with f and ending with uck, was how to tell if you were cool. I was SO uncool by this standard, at least until after my first high school boyfriend. He was definitely way cool.

Anyway, digressing again. LOL was always my favorite, because in the beginning I could never decide how to express my laughter or enjoyment. I went through quite a few phases of expression. One was when I refused to use LOL at all and would just use “haha.” Simple, straightforward, and in general a mostly accurate representation of my laugh. Then I decided that “haha” didn’t sound anything at all like what I sounded like when I laughed, so for a while I changed to “hehe” which probably should have been “heehee,” but that’s 6 letters rather than 4 alternating ones, which is harder to type. Then I think even “hehe” wasn’t accurate enough for me (too reminiscent of “heh-heh” which sounds creepy if you say it out loud) and I switched to simply writing “hee” or even “tee” with a smiley face after it. I remember thinking this was the most accurate typed representation of what my little giggle sounded like when I was amused.

Eventually (in teen years, a few months) I decided I wasn’t too cool for LOL and it was in my regular type-speech like it was my job. I LOL’d at everything, but I was obviously cool enough by this point to use it in lower case: “lol”…only adults who didn’t know better had to use all caps. Then I was LOLing when I wasn’t even actually laughing out loud in real life. And THEN I was using lol only when I was smiling or smirking at things, and “haha” when I actually laughed. And if I was really laughing, like sort of hard or loudly, it was just repeated ha’s – always at least 3 or 4 in a row.

But seriously, look at the difference here: LOL vs. lol. One looks really enthusiastic and one looks like “eh, that was kind of funny and I might have laughed or chuckled or maybe huffed out a laugh-breath.” Right? So you had to be careful because you didn’t want to be the weird one who overreacted to something that wasn’t actually that funny. People talked a lot of smack back in those days and you had to watch your own back.

Now times are very different. Sort of. I still sparingly use LOL. And I still use “lol” like it’s my job. I “lol” pretty much everything. If I even thought about smiling at something you wrote, I will give you an “lol” right back. Made me smirk? lol. Made me raise my eyebrows? lol. Said something that is really ironic or witty perhaps? lollllllll. Notice the repeated letter there. That means there’s an emphasis on it. Like, it’s really funny! But not necessarily so funny that I laughed out loud in real life. I also “lol” at myself, like the time I slept through an 11am exam (I know) and texed Foxy: “i just slept through my exam lol” …obviously I wasn’t laughing, but it’s funny in its own way. You see?

You’ll only be absolutely sure that I laughed out loud if I use “LOL” in all caps. I intentionally save it for actually laughing out loud. Also I use multiple ha’s for actual laughing. Typically just depends on my mood. Sometimes I will even type “I actually am laughing out loud for real” just to be sure you know for real that I am indeed laughing.

Using instant messaging in the corporate world I thought would mean no more abbreviations, necessitate correct spelling, grammar, and punctuation, and therefore no more LOL. But this is not the case.  Despite an atmosphere in which we speak with people of varying ages, generations, AIM experience, and technical know-how, it is almost worse than it was back in the new AIM days. “Adults” are the worst about this, if it surprises anyone. I love getting a message from one of the older ladies: “hi how r u” …I mean seriously. I LOL at that for real. Also “brb otp” is quite popular.

I must also share that recently I have started hearing people use “lol” in sentences when they speak aloud. As in, “I loled when he told me that.” And it’s not pronounced by using the letters like “el-oh-el”. It’s more like “lulled” like how you “lull” a baby to sleep. I draw the line here. I mean, is it not just as effective to say “I laughed” than to say “I loled.” Plus one makes you sound sort of very unintelligent.

And if I encounter anyone doing this, I will LOL to your face.

Unrelated: big huge congratulations goes out to my awesome friend Dr. P on her wedding tomorrow! Couldn’t be more thrilled to be a part of the celebration.

Workplace Comedy & Healthy Cheetos

Some days I truly love coming to work. The rows and rows of cubicles with their little windows at the top, the pattern of FLOR carpet squares, the little old lady who closes the bathrooms for cleaning right after lunch (highest bathroom traffic time, if you didn’t know), the sound of printers and computers buzzing, the snorting or ice crunching of your neighbor, that one guy who laughs all day so the entire floor can hear him, the woman who wanders around. The every day din of corporate America is just a little pot of gold to my Monday through Friday.

Recently I discovered a very special and dedicated worker in this building. I don’t know her but I’ve encountered her in the hallways  every so often. She carries at least 3 pad-folios filled to the brim with email printouts and yellow notepads, and an additional one to two inch thick stack of paper, including anything from additional printed emails to project lists printed on legal paper, an additional notepad or two and a special bound notebook. Minimum.

Everywhere I see her, I see her with this material. It truly baffles me. There’s no way that she needs all of that in every single meeting. There’s no way she even needs half of that in all of her daily meetings. It’s just not possible. Oh and she also has a company phone, which houses all of her emails that she also has printed in mass quantities. I love seeing her huffing and puffing and rushing around the halls from meeting room to meeting room all grouchy and barely clinging to her company memorabilia. I always try to smile and say hello; when I receive a response, if I receive a response, I always think that if she just had some kind of cart, or a backpack of some kind. Or perhaps a rolling briefcase to roll around behind her from meeting to meeting, she might not be quite so grouchy.

She does have a killer tan, though. And great hair. Bless her heart.

I really love people who buck the norm and really dress to impress for work. I don’t mean that guy who doesn’t dress down on Fridays or the girl who still wears panty hose because she thinks the men will take her more seriously that way (they’re still legs). I mean the fashion forward people. The 40-something guy who wears those fancy jeans with the designer decorated pockets because he heard someone say once that chicks dig it. The mom who wears her fancy turquoise sequin-covered strappy sandals with jeans and a tank on Fridays. Presh.

Just the other day I discovered probably the sharpest dressed man in our entire building, no sarcasm. He was wearing nice looking dark jeans with the perfect amount of fading and wear on the front, white and blue pinstripe collared shirt – sleeves rolled up perfectly and untucked obviously, except for the tiny part of the shirt-tail that was tucked into his rather large belt buckle – again some designer, and the part that tied it all together: white snakeskin loafters with the long square toe. Dude looked like he was about to roll up to Mirage and get his bottle of expensive champagne and sip on it in the VIP section. For realz.

I couldn’t help complimenting him. It made me feel like I was in 9th grade, but I did it anyway.

Also all the rage lately seem to be insane-o patterned dress shirts for men with the fancy alternative pattern inside the french cuffs and collar, Al la this designer. I have to admit shamelessly that I sort of love this look. Men who wear these shirts really must be real men. Because seriously, a man who is not 100% confident that he is a man and very manly about being a man would never be seen in paisley. Am I right? I have a feeling some of my manlier friends would argue with  my point, but whatever. And it does just occur to me that typically it’s only “the management” whom/who (couldn’t figure which was right) I notice sporting this look. This could be an interesting study in psychology or something related to human behavior or whatever. Regardless, I like them. A man’s got to have a little fun, hasn’t he?

Today I went to the vending machine (because it’s a rare occurrence, obviously…my self control is super human when it comes to resisting snacks if you didn’t know) (that was sarcasm if you’re dumb) and noticed a little sign on it for the first time. The sign reads: “Just 4U” Obviously things are cooler when we abbreviate and use letters for words. “Look for these symbols to help you pick the snack that’s right for you!” In corporate vending machine speak, “right for you” means “healthier so we could maybe save money on health care, if you would only lose a little weight, you fatty.”

The symbols with which we are to gauge our snack choices include: a blue check, which indicates snacks that have 5 grams of fat or fewer; an orange check, which means it contains 15 grams of carbohydrates or less; and a green check which indicates 100 calories or less.

There is only one check next to only one food item in the entire machine, in total containing about 30 or 40 snack choices. The check is green, and it is next to the Welche’s Fruit Snacks.

I’m enjoying my Cheeto’s.