Category Archives: "Working Professional"

Stories that involve Miss Sassy Pants possibly getting her professional work on at her place of gainful employment. No it is not the King Burger, thanks for asking.

Real Life Rookie Year: You Look So OLD

Anyone who does not get the reference in the title cannot be my friend. No, really. I think it’s kind of a requirement to even get me to have seen or at least have some knowledge of MBFGW. Otherwise I spout off random quotes in an odd accent and you think I’m just weird. Which is also true, but at least it’s funnier if you’ve seen the movie. Anywayz.

Today’s nonsense concerning the RLRY obviously concerns age. Age is funny. Age is beauty. Age knows no love. No wait, that’s love knows no age. Whatever. Age is a big deal when you’re a rookie. And I don’t mean your age as the rookie, just age as a general concept. Since this is not making any sense, allow me to extrapolate.

Think about being in college. With very few exceptions, undergrad is filled with people within 2 or 3 years of your age. And once you hit that magical legal time thus allowing you to indulge in libations in public establishments, perhaps you tend to stick to your own kind. Yes? In general, of course. I can recall a minimum number of times I hung out with freshman during my senior year. Not because I was super cool, but because I spent a great deal of time at TOTS, and there aren’t many freshman who can do the same. It’s not discrimination, it’s just circumstance. Classes towards the end of school are spent with others within 1 or 2 years of us, max. We all turned 21 the same year, we all turned 22 the same year, and then we were all gone from Blacksburg (sniff), and out in the real world.

So now here we are, little 22- and 23-year-old babies flourishing in corporate America or where ever. What happens when people in the office ask how old you are? For me, it has mostly gone something like this: “*wrinkles nose* OMIGAWD you’re younger than my daughter!!” Or “Can you even DRINK yet??” Or “Awww that’s so cute!” It’s always a chore trying to think of something polite to say in a non-sarcastic manner after these comments. Because we all know me. I love a good opportunity to be sarcastic, and it’s just so hard to not respond, “OMIGAWD you’re, like, older than my MOM!!” Or, “Do you have your AARP card yet??” Right? That would be funny, but perhaps a crucial CLM (Career Limiting Move). Anywho. It’s weird. These people end up being our friends, and perhaps you will recall that back in my glory days in Raleigh I was frequently seen out in the company of men who are my father’s peers. This is not a bad thing, but just something we are not used to as Rookies. Old people are old. Old people are parents. Parents are old. Parents are uncool. Old people are uncool. We don’t hang out with them. They are lame and only do things like watch NCIS marathons and do laundry. Right? Wrong. These myths and misconceptions, while true in some cases, must largely be left behind and forgotten. People in their 40s are pretty cool, and they have some hilarious stories. Plus they can probably help your career if you act like you have a modicum of class.

But that one is easy. What about the other 20- and 30-somethings? These people are our peers now. It seems to me in my limited experience talking to my limited number of friends (you guys, I was not prom queen.) that we, as rookies, have a difficult time adjusting to meeting people who are upwards of 5 or more years older than us. Gasp. 5 whole years! But this really is normal. And if you can discard your disregard for people who are 29, 30, 31, even 32 and 33 (I mean, omg), you will go far.

For example. I may or may not have witnessed this in real life, and may or may not have been shocked to my core at the awkwardness. Young Man is chatting with another Young Lady at this bar. Bar is full of beautiful people. Young Man is chatting up Young Lady like it’s his job, and it is obvious he thinks she is cute. They are having just an adorable little conversation. You know, the kind that leads to exchanged phone numbers and first dates. Just presh. Conversation evolves and she discovers that he is a recent graduate. Recent = within the last year or so. I can tell she’s slightly surprised but she’s classy and moves on smoothly. Then the talk turns to age. Well just how old is she, he wants to know? I am trying not to gawk that he actually asked this question, despite the polite manner in which he attempted to get it across. She smiles and politely informs him that she is 31. He is clearly struggling for something to say, and I am now laughing on the inside at his truly rookie mistake.

Firstly, everyone knows you should never ask a woman how old she is if you suspect she is over 25. I just made that rule up. I don’t know when it would be appropriate to ask a woman her age, except that I am not offended by the question and assume that this is because I am a young and vibrant 23. Perhaps when I’m 26 I won’t like it. But I’m pretty sure Emily Post or Dear Abby say it’s a no-no. It’s also unnecessary. Who cares if she’s a bit older than you? Or if he’s already celebrated 30 big ones? I don’t much care. Of course there is always a line, especially if there is some kind of romantic interesting-ness going on. I don’t want to date my dad’s bffs. It’s just odd, among other unpleasant adjectives. But I don’t think there is an age limit on friendship. In these modern times, there are so many more things that we can all have in common, and age simply doesn’t have to be one of those things.

So there you have it. We’re overcoming rookieness one stereotype and hardship at a time. Next week, we’ll discuss another facet of age weirdness rookies have to deal with. Think Mean Girls, only older and with more expensive breasts. I just made myself giggle. Stay classy y’all.

Real Life Rookie Year: Trife Disrespect

Oh desk job, how I love thee. Arriving each day and opening my email is such a thrill. I love doing little mundane tasks, answering emails with the quick tappity-tap of my little fingers. I enjoy my perfect gray-walled box, complete with minimal air flow and temperature which is just the other side of comfortable. It’s really great. Each day the same, over and over, challenge after annoying obstacle, I earn my paycheck.

One day last week was no different. I arrive at work at the usual time (which I will not disclose…ahem), drag out my computer, greet my fellow minions, put my english muffin in the toaster. I am optimistic today, as I always try to be in the mornings. Better to start out right than start out grumpy, no? Eventually my slow-as-molasses but brand-new laptop starts up. Thanks, corporate security, for taking 40 minutes of my day away. Yawn. I hear the toaster pop behind me and am excited for my delicious breakfast tradition. It is important, as a Rookie, to watch your health.  I swagger back to my desk.  I open my email and lo and behold, good mood ruined. The first email to greet me reveals to me that someone thought I was incompetent! How fun! And thusly my day begins.

I think it is really great when the “grown-ups” in the office treat me like a small child who has never seen a computer before. What’s that? You mean if I have admin access to this server I can change settings which could crash it? No way! I didn’t know that. Of course I’m so glad you warned me. Or I might have just shut the whole thing down, on accident! Maybe even set it on fire! Thank goodness for you, Mr. Old-Server-Admin-Guy. Who knows what would have happened if you had set me lose on this! I might have blown up the entire server room! Brought the entire company down! Stock price in the toilet! You saved the day! You deserve a raise for putting little old me in my place. Oh, there’s more? Oh nos! I didn’t realize how little I actually know about restarting a computer. I didn’t realize that my qualifications for this job are actually useless. You are so smart. Thanks for being so condescending. I wouldn’t know what to do if you hadn’t sent me that smartass email telling me what any monkey who’s spent 5 seconds near a computer would know. It’s really nice of you. Where can I send my thank-you note and fruitcake? You know us southern girls, all about hospitality and being thankful. [Eyelash flutter]

Sarcasm alert, bee-tea-dubs.

My favorite part of all of this was when I got to give dude a big ol’ BOOYA from my desk. In my head of course. I proved once again that I am not a little girl pretending to know what I’m doing. Note to everyone I have ever worked and will ever work with: I’m not a dumbass girl. I actually did get a degree, go through a rigorous interview process, and have been doing this for over a year. So watch me prove you wrong. Biotches. The best part is I can slyly give this person a little slap via email, providing a dash of irrefutable smarts and logic and coating it with Brenda Lee type sugar. Take that. I can’t decide if this happens to me because I am female, because I am young enough to be most people’s daughter in this office, OR because I have cute shoes. REGARDless, it should not matter. But it will continue to happen until such time as…actually I have no idea how much longer it will continue. Some of us Rookies actually look like 16 year old girls (shut up) so I will probably look like a teenage intern well into my 40s (something which I refuse to complain about) and must accept that some people will think I’m an idiot for many years to come. Whether because I’m short, thin, young, pretty, female, or all of the above. Here’s a couple headlines for you: young does not equal stupid. Female also does not equal stupid. So if you want to question me, do it in a respectful manner. I don’t need you to assume I know what I’m doing but I do need you to be respectful. Because I earned the right to be here as much as you. Plus I’m nicer and you have poor grammar.

So next time I ask you to do something for me and I do not provide enough background facts for your liking, just ask. Don’t get all up on your high horse and assume I don’t know what I’m talking about. Ask me like you would the fat old man sitting in the cube next to you. He’s not as cute as me, but you wouldn’t treat him poorly because of that. I’m not as experienced as him (because he’s old), but you shouldn’t treat me poorly because of that.

I don’t understand why this is difficult. I am willing and able to learn but I am not willing to handle your disrespectful ‘tude and condescending, snide emails and phone calls.

As Rookies, this is something we must deal with, though I just said I was not willing, it is the facts of life. Just like the birds and the bees. It is hilarious sometimes to watch the “grown-ups” hesitantly giving us responsibilities while providing ridiculously detailed directions and tips, and not hiding their intense anxiety over letting us handle things. But we must handle their attitudes and tasks we are given with grace and class. Because again, we are here to prove ourselves. This doesn’t mean it’s super awesome to be treated disrespectfully, and receive condescending emails insulting our intelligence. No one should assume we know anything…you know the old saying about what it means to assume things. But no one should assume we’re idiots either.

The Real Life Rookie Year: It’s a Hard Knock Life

We’re back ladies and gentlemans, with the latest and greatest on what it’s like to be a rookie. Aside from being young, hot, and clueless, we have lots of depth. We’ve got problems. We’ve got drama. We’ve got a skimpy paycheck. And we just want to drink and make it safely back to our apartment (or someone’s apartment) just like we did in college. Unfortunately, if you live in a real town and not a college town, achieving this most basic of goals is actually kind of difficult. Why? Because we’re all broke, that’s why!

I am slowly working my way out of this mentality and state of financial being. In fact, I’d say now that I’m 1+ years into my career and have now received greater than or equal to 30 paychecks, I’m not all that broke anymore. But go ahead and ask me if I want to make a quick trip to Vegas for a long weekend, or plan a week-long getaway on a cruise ship of my choice with some of my closest fellow rookies. My response will be something like raucous laughter followed by some kind of sarcastic comment regarding money and trees, followed by more raucous laughter. Such a good joke, planning a vacation.

But if I actually sit down and examine my financial situation, it’s really not all that bad. But for the sake of argument and the validity of this post, let’s go with it. Who’s not broke? No hands? That’s what I thought. Thought I go shopping significantly more often that I did in school, and I go out to eat a good amount more than I used to, somehow I am not just scraping by paycheck to paycheck. It’s all a mentality. We got so used to being broke and planning the cheapest possible spring break trip and/or hitting up mom and pop for some extra cash during college, and now that we actually have legit money of our own, it’s hard to not laugh immediately when thinking of planning some kind of exotic vacation with pals or your woman. It’s an instinct, and one that is not always correct.

So maybe you’re thinking, well Miss Sassy, I’m not broke…I have an awesome paycheck and I live it up thug style in a baller high rise condo. Bam. Fine, I say, must be nice.  But you have friends who are totally broke and still eating PB&J for dinner every day. We’re all in different stages now. Some of us have jobs in cubicles or corner offices with a steady paycheck from some kind of corporate hoo-ha, but some of us are still looking, or still working through an unpaid internship (ick), or feeding our souls and working for a non-profit (aka getting paid in pennies). So even if you yourself have plenty of spare cash to plan a cool vacation to Bora Bora, your friends are laughing at you when you suggest it. Not to mention days off of work! Who’s got that kind of time! We’re all new, which means we have something ridiculous like 4 hours per month accumulating of time off. Slight exaggeration. And we have to reserve those days for things like family and holidays. No one wants to work over the holidays, everyone wants some 3 day weekends every now and then, and most people have a nagging / loving mother who wants to see them sometime. It’s a challenging chore to try to save those days and use them as wisely as possible. Because you never know when some way cooler event is going to come up later in the year and you might need that day. I can’t complain really, as I entered 2010 with 20 choice days off. This is what we call “money,” or $$$. But not everyone is as lucky as this girl. You may actually get that 4 hours a month, which means by the end of your first year you’ve only got 48 hours, or a total of 6 days. Trife. Personally I think HR makes these ridiculous time-off policies on purpose. They’re all old so they figure all the new young kids just came off years of fun and games, so we deserve as little time off as legally feasible. I see both sides of the argument, you know, earning your stripes and all. But doesn’t change the fact that your old lady HR rep is just jealous.

The bottom line is this: as a rookie, we struggle. It’s a hard knock life. They give you a measly little paycheck, stick you in a corner cube (sniff), and give you 5 days off the whole year. Good luck getting to the top. We watch our parents and elders taking sweet vacations and long weekend trips. Our bosses drop work on us as they take their second summer vacation. I could never reach one former colleague because he always seemed to be cruising. The Mediterranean. Never have I been so irritated with seeing that stupid out-of-office auto-reply. It seemed to mocked me: “Sorry Miss Sassy, you cannot get what you need this week or next because Mr. Too-Cool-and-Senior-for-Work is out, yet again, with no access to email because this particular remote island resort doesn’t come with wifi. But don’t worry, he’s going to post pictures of his cruise(s) on the shared drive so you can bitterly view them and cry silently at your desk, whilst falling further and further behind in your work!” I love also that these notifications are always accompanied by something like: “If this is an urgent matter, please contact someone else.” AKA if you’re having a major issues, too bad! I don’t give two monkeys about your problem because I’m basking in the sun on some island! Ha!

But whatever. We rookies are nothing but resourceful. Plus, rookies are known for being some of the hardest workers, even on the baseball field. So bring it on, I say. Give me as little a paycheck as you dare, be unavailable to work with me, reward me with triflin little days off, and watch me flourish and take your job in less than 4 years, while you drown in your mortgage and college fund for your 5 kids. Who’s laughing now, old man!

Sass on, ya’ll. And remember. The most important time for which to save days off is football season. Don’t let a mid-winter and early summer getaway distract you from the prize.

The Real Life Rookie Year: Pointy-Haired Bosses

Because I work in IT and was raised by a father who also works in IT, I am somewhat very familiar with the comic Dilbert. Dilbert is a little man [with, ironically, no facial expressions, or alternatively, the same facial expressions for every situation] who spends his days “clinging to the walls of my fabric covered box while being consumed by a vortex of failure.” Hilarious, as some days, I see the fabric walls of my little box consuming me in a vortex of boredom and lack of purpose. This is besides the point. Dilbert’s boss is affectionately known to me as the Pointy-Haired Boss. You’ve seen him. He says dumb things, asks for projects to be completed early and by spending zero dollars. He cares only for himself and his own raises and benefits. He is not fit to manage anything, much less an office. That’s the funny part. Now to relate Dilbert and his boss to this silly little series.

Us rookies probably have minimal experiences with bosses. You’ve had maybe a couple at the most. If you’ve been working since high school, you’ve had more than a couple but that was high school and that’s different. You old guys have had lots of bosses, and I’m sure greater than or equal to three of them were exactly like the Pointy-Haired Boss in some way or another. Some managers are awesome. Some of them don’t really care about you, as long as you do what they tell you. Some managers should never be managers. Sometimes it’s the blind leading the blind. Sometimes they’re your best friend, and sometimes you get drunk with them and learn things you’d never repeat in the office. They write your performance review after all, and you value your paycheck and raise possibilities.

I’ve had 4 or 5 bosses since I started working at a place where I didn’t wear a swim suit and pink cowgirl hat and take an occasional dip in the pool. [Awesome job.] Some of these bosses were awesome, and some of them were less than awesome. Since I think some people with whom I work read this, I’ll be mentioning no names, chronology, or any reference which would give any hints whatsoever as to which boss was awesome and which was not so much. But they each taught me something about myself, which as a rookie is part of my daily life. Lessons all the time, from all places, until I’m blue in the face from learning so much and my Trapper Keeper (good times) of learnings is bulging and won’t stay velcroed. Annoying.

My first lessons were learned as a young girl working summers in college. Oh the days. A nice man we’ll call El Jefe (haha) was one of my first “real” managers. He was very quiet, not really a jokester in the office, very business-y. I worked very hard to accomplish everything he tasked me with very efficiently and as quickly as possible, even ordering lunch. Ordering lunch was probably the task I felt the most pressure. After all, if people have a bad lunch, it ruins their day. If you’re late for a meeting or send the wrong document, these are easily fixed, solved, or forgotten. Lunch can make people grouchy. So every day I was nervous. Jefe was busy, so it was my job to pick something and sometimes I had to order for him! Nerves jumping! What if he doesn’t like club sandwiches?! What if he fires me because the pickle got his chips all soggy?!? Well luckily, I can tell you I survived every day of lunch ordering. I learned that 1) it’s quite alright to bring around a notepad and force everyone to choose their own lunch, even if they’re on the phone. 2) Most times he was too busy to even notice if I forgot to say no mayo. 3) He noticed my work more than my lunch ordering abilities. And 4) I still attribute (at least partially) all my lunch successes to the good recommendation he wrote me when I changed jobs. I’m thinking he associated good meals with me. This is not a bad thing.

One of the managers I’ve had was so-so. I was pretty much never comfortable talking to this person, and I also pretty much thought a monkey could do this particular job better than this person. No pronouns, sorry. But I learned to work around the incompetence and discomfort, that we can all be successful regardless of the dimwits we work with (this is not limited to managers obviously), and that anyone who blames others in the workplace is just excusing their poor work. Sorry chickens.

Some of the best lessons I’ve learned so far are from a boss we’ll just call Boss. He (or she! Tricky) was pretty cool. Very direct with directions (as the word implies), very direct with feedback, and never sugar coating anything. When I first started working for Boss, it was intimidating. He talked way too fast for my little southern brain fresh out of Southwest, VA, and I better keep up if I knew what was good for me. He forced me to think quicker, say “um” and “like” less because those words take up valuable seconds that I dearly needed to get my entire statement across to him before he got bored and dismissed me. I left that job more confident about a couple of things: 1) asking questions, 2) saying my mind, 3) he’s just a regular guy so therefore 4) there is no reason to be scared or intimidated. Unless you screw up.

Obviously we all have different bosses, and as rookies it is a trial to figure out how they all like to work. Some like to see every nano-second of your day’s productivity. What did you do for the last five minutes? Why were you away from your desk for 15 minutes? Why are you leaving at 4:55 today when you usually don’t leave until 6?? Send me a status report twice a week! Send me every version of every document you have! Ask me permission for everything! Others are different. They leave you alone. They give you the bare-bones requirements for a project and you must dive in solo. These all teach us different things. For me, it teaches me that most anyone can drive me crazy. The ones that ask too much are annoying. The ones that don’t talk to me for 3 weeks make me feel lonely and irrelevant. But none of these are things I can change. We must adjust, because we are the rookies learning how things work. When I’m a manager I can be the one calling the shots, but until then, I will send as many or as few status reports necessary to appease whomever needs to be appeased. I am still in the business of proving myself. The only thing I’ve proved so far is that I took the right classes, got the right grades, and conducted myself appropriately in an interview. I, and we as rookies, still have to prove we’re worth the investment for the team.

So here’s to enduring the Pointy-Haired Boss. He wears white socks with tattered dress shoes, smells funny, is incompetent sometimes, and makes us want to quit our jobs occasionally. She’s bossy and on a power trip all the time, micro-managing us when we are perfectly able to send an email by ourselves, thank you. He talks about his kids way too much. She never answers emails. Whatever. We can do it, because like I said, we’re young, fabulous, and they hate us because we’re younger and have better metabolism. Let’s use it to our advantage, shall we?

I Am Woman, Watch Me Code.

We now break from regular programming typically consisting of boys, men, and dudes in general to talk about…women! Gasp! Those of you who are regulars here / know me personally know that I’m a dude lover. I talk about them, I talk to them, I look stare at them, I think about them. Frequently. BUT today is different, because last week I was immersed in estrogen, high heels, long hair, picture and video taking, cardigans, and giggling. And it’s not fashion week. It’s the Grace Hopper Celebration of Women in Computing. So while the cardigans and shoes are so presh, there are also brains in attendance.

There were over 2,000 women in Atlanta from all over the U.S. and all over the world, to celebrate women’s accomplishments in technical fields like mine. We are nerds, we are Barbie lovers, we make more money, we’re winning awards, we’re researching everything, and we’re reaching milestones like no man. And we are looking so good being so fabulous and are so smart. If you’ve never heard of Grace Hopper and the Anita Borg Institute, do read up. It’ll make you feel good about things women across the globe are doing with and in technology. And if you’re a dude, maybe it’ll check your ego for a second.

The atmosphere there was refreshingly pressure-free and laid back, and I attribute this partially to the lack of testosterone present. The number of men I saw in attendance last week was ridiculously small, especially at a technology and computing conference. Seriously ya’ll. Google was there. Microsoft was there. Facebook was there. Bloomberg was there. USAA was there. Apple was there. And we were all there to share knowledge, experiences, successes, and failures. We were collaborating, building relationships – both professional and personal. We learned from each other and had a great time sharing everything.

There were a ridiculous number of successful and powerful women there. They have worked hard even while maintaining families, raising children, and mentoring young professionals and students. They haven’t lost sight of what’s really important. I applaud them for their success and impressive resumes full of accomplishments, but I respect them most for being so willing to share everything with the younger professionals and students. All while still saving time to watch their kids’ soccer games and even cook dinner for their husbands.

Women are amazing. And this conference has come at an awesome time for me professionally and personally. It is so easy to get stuck in the rut of work. Get up early, get to work at the same time, check emails, do the same things every day, feeling down about what I am or am not accomplishing, and letting the feelings spiral down until I am hopeless about making an improvement in my own life and career. It is one thing to feel hopeless and depressed about a man situation or my dating life. We all have our moments, and I have had and will continue to have plenty of these. But they are so easy to recover from. It is easy to pick myself up from heartbreak or rejection (post satisfactory pity party, obvs). I can put on a fancy pair of shoes, do my hair, feel good in my favorite jeans, and move on loving myself. But feeling down about my job and career path and choice is a totally different thing. I can’t just buy another job. I can’t make a project easier because of a good hair day. And sometimes it’s just freaking hard to stay positive and keep the big picture in mind. But being here has not only opened my eyes to the real breadth of the field I chose, but it’s encouraged me and reminded me I have options. Yes, my job is great and I do like it, but no, I don’t have to stay there forever if I become personally unsatisfied with the work I’m doing. I could very well work for Google some day, or Yahoo, or Bloomberg, or SAS, or Elle freaking magazine if that’s what I really want to do.

And it wasn’t just awards and success there. It was presentations on advances in technology pioneered by smart women which are helping the socially or economically disadvantaged. Socially responsible projects to help the blind, the poor, the 3rd world, the children. Technology is awesome, and video games are cool, but more than anything, the week was about sharing our knowledge so that we can help make the world a better place. Technology not just for the sake of cool technology, but for the bettering of societies everywhere.

So, key learnings I have taken back to my humble cubicle on the west coast include but are not limited to the following list.

  • Every technical woman has had a time or moment when they feel out of place or uncomfortable in a field full of men [most with rather large egos].
  • Every technical woman has had a moment when they felt triumphant and achieved something so great which made the trials and tribulations of working in male-dominated field SO worth it.
  • There are many men who fully support and encourage women in their lives to succeed in a technical field, while there are many who are still not supportive (I mean, dudes, it’s 2010 for crying out loud…catch up).
  • Women are smarter and can juggle life and work more effectively than men.
  • Women are nicer and more willing to share their achievements with others for zero personal gain.
  • Women are awesome and willing mentors, whether professionally or academically.
  • The superior emotional intelligence of women is an asset in the workplace, not a hindrance.

The list could be much longer. And I’m stoked to be back at work with a new plan, new encouragement, new ways to deal with conflict, new ideas on how to shape my career and future, and new passion around what I do. I am a technical woman. I don’t just fix your computer, I can make your world better.

Holy Liberals, Batman! It’s California!

Ohmahgah! So I know it’s been a gagillion years since there’s been fresh juice from this orange, but a quick glance at my reader odometer tells me readership is not down that much. Thanks ya’ll. So what the heck has been happening? Tons and lots and mucho. Once again my social calendar is jam packed to the brim, men all up on my cell phone, ladies all jealous of my fab new haircut and shoe collection. And again just joking. Quick run-down: I moved out of my fab ex-roommates’ house (miss you girls) in Raleigh and came back to live at Casa di Momma Sassy and Poppa Pants for 4 weeks whilst enduring the torture that is 3 weeks of IT training put upon me by my gainful employer. I saw everyone possible, had a fun girls weekend, planned an awesome reunion trip to DC that I unfortunately had to bail on because hey! I moved to California!

There are so many stories I could tell/will tell eventually I’m sure, but for now I want to reflect on things that I have noticed initially that are SO different here on the left coast. Things that I have tabulated in my head over the last 7 days include but are not limited to the following items. There is no sweet tea here. Just “iced tea.” There are LOTS of Prius’s. Like LOTS. And people who drive them are more annoying than usual, with stickers on the back bragging that they passed some emissions test that every vehicle has to pass anyway in this state. Big freaking deal, you’re compliant with the law. There is no good college football, and no one really cares that there isn’t any good college football except for me apparently. I miss Chick-fil-a and Bojangles breakfast buiscuits and potatoes. Children are just as annoying here as they are anywhere else. Weed is about to be legalized here for realz, despite the fact that everyone knows it would get the hold-up from the Feds. I say it’s a good idea because then maybe California wouldn’t be about to declare bankruptcy every day. No one knows how to merge here, so that is something that reminds me of pretty much any place in the world I’ve been where merging is necessary. They love their organic yogurt here. Like in a weird obsessive way. They love organic anything here. The public transportation rocks. No one says “ya’ll” but me. Shampoo costs $20 instead of $6. Gas costs $90/gallon instead of just $2.50. Apartment hunting is just as difficult here as anywhere, but more expensive. A/C is not standard anywhere. Everyone has those weird looking shoe/sandal hybrids that I think are Fugly. The fog over San Francisco is gorgeous. It is not warm here like I thought it would be. And lastly, anyone who doesn’t have a Prius has a Mini just like me. It’s cool but also makes me feel unoriginal, BUT I bet they’ll all give me the peace sign back when I wave UNLIKE everyone in VA/NC who I waved to in a Mini. Jerks.

So that’s my quickie update! I have dubbed my new roomz Big D for lack of a creative genius moment/I’m tired of using Roomz and it’s confusing for all my previous roommates. He’s a nice guy and apparently likes to cook, which I see benefiting me in the future since we all know I enjoy bowls of cereal in liu of real meals on the reg. He doesn’t want to be talked about on this here jank so I will try to respect his wishes, but he must know (if he is reading) that if he keeps requesting to not be mentioned that the chances of me mentioning him increase. Anywho, we are getting along fine and both getting tired of being confused for a married couple. Buying mattresses together gives people that impression apparently, even when you are buying 2 queens instead of just one.

If anyone is coming to visit please do leave a note and we’ll plan some fun times! Alternatively, if you have any recommendations on places I should visit while I am here let me know! I have about 20 weekends until I move away, and I can’t wait to fill them all.

PS! New functions thanks to WordPress/whoever designed my theme! Rate enties, “Like” entries, subscribe to MSP! Subscribers get extra benefits, like being notified ASAP when I post something, and possibly future giveaways. I just came up with that but seriously it could happen. So DO IT.

Random Compilation of Trifeness

We now break from our regularly scheduled program of discussing men 24/7 so I can complain about bad driving and scooters on the road, and perhaps a couple other things. You never know what will come up.

Here in good old Raleigh, scooters are becoming all the rage, and not just in the metropolitan area. People out in the ‘burbs are also being responsible citizens of Earth and lowering their carbon footprint by purchasing and making scooters their number one choice for transporting themselves to and fro. It is so wonderful. I love environmental responsibility and lowering one’s carbon footprint. Woohoo. I have a low emission/fuel efficient vehicle so high five to me, also. Here’s the difference: mine goes regular speeds (and vrooms and purrs quite nicely. Thanks BMW.) and yours does not, seeming to max out at 30mph. The problem with this is that somehow, Mr. Scooter thinks it is appropriate for him (or her) to ride right in the middle of the lane, leaving a long row of crawling real vehicles following irritatingly behind. 30mph would not be a problem except that greater than 90% of roads in suburban areas have speed limits greater than 30mph, and I am very impatient and like to maximize travel efficiency, not to mention drive my car like it’s meant to be driven. I have made up my mind that next time this happens, I will, without reservation or guilt, honk my horn until he or she moves over. And if that person is upset with me, I’ll wave and smile as I drive by. Don’t drop your groceries, cupcake!

Remember in college (so long ago…) when everyone was hungover and unshowered on Saturday and/or Sunday mornings (at a minimum)? For the ladies, it was hair up, hat on, maybe a headband or bag over your head, huge tshirt and sweatpants, flip-flops or Ugg boots. For dudes it was disheveled probably greasy hair, hat, grungy tshirt from the previous night, sweatpants and those moccasin fuzzy slipper things that are super comfy. For both, it included a face depleted of all color while we slowly recover from the ridiculousness that occurred the previous evening/earlier that morning. And being seen in public like this wasn’t really a big deal because everyone else looked just as trife as you. In fact, typically if you are showered and made up prior to mid-afternoon, you are very out of place.

Last Sunday, I was reminded that things aren’t like that in the real world of real people and no college. We went to a little eatery to get some yummy lamb pitas to-go. Upon entering said eatery, I found myself wishing they delivered. Since it was close to 1pm, people were there enjoying a nice Sunday lunch. Families, a group of girlfriends, couple of old elderly couples, etc. We walk in, clad in workout shorts and tshirts, me with a headband covering as much hair as possible, Roomz clutching a bottle of Gatorade, all of us probably pale and ghastly looking. MAJOR judgement faces from the cute showered group of girls in the corner. I mean just oozing. I was THIS close to walking up to their table and saying, “So what, you’ve never been hungover before?” and maybe taking one of their french fries and walking away with a flick of my pony tail. In my head it was funny, but in real life I remained sitting down with the closest air vent blowing on my face.

It has once again been reinforced that IT is the greatest career choice in the entire world. Sarcasm alert. Last night, I had the honor and privilege of coming in to work at 2am to mess around with some servers. Too much IT speak to explain it so I won’t. All you need to know is that some work cannot be done during regular business hours, and there’s no IT fairy who magically fixes things at night. Real people stay up until 2am on a Tuesday (and not at TOTS), come to the office (which turns the a/c off at night because we are a green building…woohoo) and do work. Until 3:45am. And then come back for an 8am meeting. At least this time no one walked up to my cube this morning and said, “Gosh, Miss Sassy, you’re looking rough today!” Men in IT have such tact and know all the right things to say to really make me feel great about myself. Warm fuzzies all around!

Since this is a crazy random post (hence the title), I’ll go ahead and share this gem: I LOVE these. Like, I keep the page open all day every day and will be stalking them until they go on sale and/or I get another coupon from DSW. Trust.