06.28.07
No Peep Toe Left Behind
I’ve been watching my SATC episodes, beginning with Season 2, second disc because I feel that the first season was too “new” and choppy, although they really hit their stride with Season 4 when even Aidan and Steve had their own storylines. (By the way, has anyone heard anything recently about a movie?)
Okay, so, I’m watching the episode on fetishes and hear Charlotte trying to justify her freebie sandals from “Buster” because he just really “loves it when someone loves shoes.” And I start to wonder, and let me preface this with I’m typing while well-heeled in my blue strappy patent leather Carlos Santana open toe T-strap heels, why do we love our shoes so much?
I know, I know…because we just do. But seriously, why? What is it about them that makes us feel so…special? Why do we have to have them? Why do we seek them out when we’re feeling crappy or lonely or fat? Why are we encouraged to do so? I mean, what’s the big deal? They’re just shoes, right?
Of course they aren’t.
I can’t tell you how many times and for how many years I have pranced barefooted through shoe departments, slipping on shoe after shoe after shoe at leisure (I’m lucky enough to wear the typical display size). I’ve killed time on a boring day doing just this, perked myself up after a particularly difficult week or break-up, become a collector of all colors of the rainbow in shoe leather, and even challenged myself to find the most outrageous pair possible, buy them, and then figure out with what and where to wear them. My love affair with shoes has been quite the spectacle indeed.
But then I gave up shoe shopping for Lent this past spring. I really did. Not because I’m particularly religious but because I realized that the sticker price was actually costing me much more. So, for 40 days and 40 nights I went sans shoes (except for a very secret, and sensible I might add, slip up when I bought the last size 6 black leather ballet flats–they were the last pair! And if you’re going to buy only one pair of shoes this season, ballet flats should be it!). I even managed to avoid a foreshadowed bender once Easter arrived. I didn’t buy a single pair even then.
Instead, my feet have been swaddled in the broken-in, dented, stuck-in-the-sidewalk-cracks shoes already to be found in my closets. I have my favorites of course, but like giving proper attention to each of one’s children, I prefer to keep them all in constant rotation. So although I eye many a pristine pair of slingbacks and wedges and strappy sandals, I let them pass unpurchased. Not because I don’t want them, but because I just can’t bring myself to drop $70-130 a couple times a month on something so…frivolous and empty.
Still, it is with a nostalgic sigh that I bid them adieu, deluding myself into believing that someone will come along and love them just as much and maybe even wear them with the appropriate attire.
06.26.07
Blah
It’s been difficult to post regularly of late…since we came back from THE BEST PLACE EVER actually. I’ve wondered if maybe it’s because it’s summer or if I’m just in withdrawal. Mostly, I think, there’s so much I could write about that…well…I just don’t.
Do I write about how much I miss my boyfriend, who is literally on the other side of the world right now? Or how difficult it is to feel so close to someone after such a long time only to have them go away and have everything change again?
Should I write about how my car broke down going 70 on the Kennedy before he left? How good it felt to have him rush to my side, take me into his arms, and place me in his car while he talked to the tow truck driver?
Or maybe I should write about what I’ve been doing in his absence? How grateful I feel to have such great friends to talk to and confide in? Am finding my feelings conflicted by my parents moving so close again? How much I’m enjoying Woolf’s To the Lighthouse? Or am more and more enjoying simple things like Country Time Lemonade, Jello, flip flops, and lip gloss?
And what about my waning relationship with this city; my frustrations at getting home no earlier than 7:30 at night and having to fight hordes of people to get anywhere and get anything done?
Maybe I should blog more about my classes and how I got straight A’s? Or how much I detest my job? Or want to go back to England? Or want to just take a nap?
I don’t know. Maybe blogging is a seasonal thing? Or maybe I’m just lazy…
06.20.07
I Just Hit A Parking Cone. On Purpose.
There I sat in my car this morning, eating a chocolate chip cookie for breakfast, mildly amused by the superfluous row of cones that crossed the intersection, slowing rush hour traffic. Every morning, it is the same clusterfuck.
Normally; however, there’s just enough room for the right lane to squeeze through to the other side. This squeezing occurs after I’ve exited Lake Shore to get past the back up of cars due to said conage. But today, someone got a little overzealous with the cone placement. To avoid it, I’d have to actually dodge the cone like I was on an obstacle course. This is something I could do easily enough, but why? Why should I bother avoiding a stupid cone that serves no purpose other than to chill out in the middle of a busy intersection?
I wondered if I should make a direct hit, if it would be necessary to run it over completely. I didn’t want to go for it and fail; have the letdown of having the damn thing bounce back all resilient and defiant.
I waited for the light to turn green………..
I psyched myself out: I’m not actually going to hit it, am I? But I’ve always wanted to hit one. It just seems like something to do. And why not?
So I did. I aimed and made contact. And IT. WAS. AWESOME.
I looked back at the tipped cone and the surprised woman driving behind me. Yeah, that was no accident, lady!
My chocolate chip cookie never tasted better.
06.18.07
All Staff Announcement
Apparently, there’s some less than friendly office behavior occurring around here of late. Of late? Who am I kidding?
“Over the past several weeks, many people have reported that their personal food items have been stolen from the refrigerators on multiple floors. It should go without saying, but please do not take food items that are not yours.”
Now, as someone who had her beloved Coke stolen from the refrigerator in 2005, I can tell you I completely empathize with the poor victims of this current food jacking spree. But why is it that HR will send out an email to this effect and not address the many heinous acts of inter-office crime?
If I were in HR, I’d be apt to send something like the following…
Dear Fellow Hardworkers,
Please forgive this brief interruption of your vigorous work day. We find it advisable at this time to send a *friendly* notice to all employees in our effort to not only make this office a safe environment for all, but one in which we are energized, fulfilled, and can work and laugh together in harmony.
As such, it has come to our attention that a select number of you have begun scheduling meetings in excess. This is highly ill advised. Meetings only anger people and if held in excess, as appears to be the case, creates a slowdown of the daily work flow, contributing to wide-spread workplace stress. It is important to remember to always value your fellow employee’s time.
Similarly, scheduling meetings first thing in the morning, over the lunch hour or immediately thereafter, or late in the day, is an easy way to inflame your fellow co-workers and interrupt their workhour errand-running. As your HR representative, I must take it upon myself to remind you that it is a requirement of your employment here to serve as a “team player.” I recommend that prior to scheduling any meeting; you first ask yourself if an email wouldn’t be more efficient and advisable. Also, scheduling “pre-meetings” to prepare for a meeting for which the agenda is to prepare for the actual meeting is not only confusing, but highly questionable. We in HR stand by good project management, but must remind all of you that planning and talking about doing “the work” doesn’t actually mean any work is completed.
We would like also to take this opportunity to call your attention to a few common words and phrases that are reportedly “dumbing down” office communication. These words and phrases include, but are not limited to, “fleshing it out,” “putting some ‘meat and bones’ on that copy,” “blowing it out,” “synergy,” “dovetail,” “circle back,” “hash out,” and “touch base.” We find this language is disruptive to those within earshot, and in some cases quite disturbing. While we do offer excellent in network pyschological care for those afflicted by the terminology, we prefer that you instead cease use forthwith. Should you choose to continue employing such tactless and meaningless language, HR, nor the company, will be held responsible for the irritation, blankness, or physical smackdown with which you may be met.
Finally, due to popular demand, we will be bringing back company-wide access to You Tube. Thanks to the petition signed by many of you and the grassroots white paper documenting its extensive merits as an institutional gem, management trusts that it really is the value-added resource you’ve documented it to be.
Should you have any questions or comments, please plan to attend our monthly share sessions where you can discuss your feelings over a donut or bran muffin with complete strangers otherwise known as your co-workers.
As always, help us help you,
HR
06.13.07
An Evening with Nelly Furtado (a.k.a. Festival of the Skank)
I’ve been to a Nelly Furtado concert. The Boy and I went last night. Precious thing responded to my whiny email request last month for tickets to Michael Bublé with a shrieking phone call in kind. I did something bad! I fucked up! I just got Nelly Furtado tickets! FUCK! And thus, we returned from London to the likes of The Furtado and her posse of ho.
(Note: As I am still convincing myself that of course London froze in time when I left it last Friday—I mean, how can it seriously continue to exist without me there?—I am apparently not yet able to write The London Post at present. When there will be less sighing and chance of tears, I will happily regale you with our journeys.)
So, The Furtado. Yes, sweet Nelly was an accident. But we went. And arm in arm we sauntered into the swarm of screaming, texting 14 and 15 year olds and were carried along by the abundant folds of skin fighting their way free of many a sequined halter top and denim skirt. It would appear that we had unwittingly signed on for not only a Festival of Skank but a coincidentally scheduled PWT convention. Why is it that people don’t make the slightest effort to dress for theatre anymore, but they’ll ho it up for a concert? What the hell is that? Scenes from my hometown flashed before me and it was all I could do to stifle a scream. The horror!
We found our seats. Well, not our seats—we were directed to someone else’s fine aisle locale. Thanks for that, Estelle. But upon rectifying the situation, we settled in to people watch and survey the “high-school auditorium” that lay before us.
Thanks to the mad skilz of “Saukrates” and “Kenna,” we were *entertained* until Fugtado graced us with her 80’s Glam, be-spandexed thighs. With similarly clad Jazzercized interpretive dancers in tow (one of whom I could swear was “Blake” from MTV’s Dance Life—you know you watched it too!), she took the stage and proceeded to defy my every effort to will her out of her fuggery. We’re talking Day-glo here, people. And black opaque tights with 3 inch heels. Costume after costume, I was confounded (and breathing through my mouth thanks to the World Headquarters of BO sitting to my left—I wonder how many sweat particles deposited themselves amid my molars? ew…).
Highlights of the concert included The Boy “translating” a song sung in Portuguese (something tells me she wasn’t singing the politically incorrect epitaph that brought me to tears of laughter whilst everyone around us swayed back and forth on the verge of very different tears), my realization that I couldn’t stop staring at her unruly ass in fear that it was somehow going to start a mutiny and jiggle off the stage- spandex and all, and being asked where her “single, independent, educational women be at” (I used to teach. Does that mean that I am educational?).
Alas, I am sorry to report there was no bird costume à la Fug. However, what was seen was quite enough. After a rousing bout of Promiscuous and Maneater, during which the poor tweens in front of us tried desperately to get their dance on, it was time for us to go.
I’m certain Michael Bublé wouldn’t have sent us home after so much fun, nor with half as much to laugh about. And we didn’t even drink!
06.11.07
A Few Observations Upon Returning
1) Mind the gap.
2) Chips are crisps and fries are chips.
3) Cabs are not only new looking and urine-free, but roomy and expensive too.
4) Tea at The Savoy is synonymous with All-You-Can-Eat buffet. And worth every penny. Who knew the pianist would be playing the Rocky theme song?
5) McDonald’s is…different–they have chunky chips (see above notation) and something called ‘brown sauce’.
6) Always ask for ice. Then, ask for more.
7) Harrods is like a casino, a labyrinth of rooms that wind you ever deeper into its clutches without any semblance of time or space. I may have blacked out a time or two trying to find my way through the food halls and luxury rooms.
Westminster’s history and beauty overwhelmed me to tears.
9) I quite like summer puddings and scones with clotted cream.
10) Pinstripe suits and wide tie knots are curiously ubiquitous.
11) They have their celebrity gossip too, but seem to be caught up by the Paris drama as much as we.
12) “Walking” in the Peak District makes absolute perfect sense now. Of course that’s what you go there to do.
13) Cockfosters isn’t just a funny word…it’s a real place; you can take the tube there anyway.
14) London is two cities: The City of London and The City of Westminster.
15) American tourists are embarrassingly easy to spot.
16) Everything is smaller: the font size of menus and billboards, the streets, the rooms and toilets, the cars, the dollar’s worth…
17) You’ll need a coin purse to carry all those coins.
18) There’s serious business to be had in managing London’s “rubbish” problem. The US should start exporting garbage and recycle bins over there in bulk.
19) Their beer is stronger. And better. Or maybe I just didn’t eat frequently enough.
20) That I hate my job as much upon returning as I did when I left.
Cheers!
06.01.07
I’m a Big Girl Now

Nice weather so I can wear my pretty, twirly sundresses while I’m away. What’s a birthday without a party dress, right?
To hate my job just a little less when I return.
Any of the following: cupcakes, flourless chocolate cake, Godiva chocolates.
For Paris Hilton to rot in jail. You can read “The Power of Now” all you want, honey, but you’re still going to the clinker on my special day.
Oh, and a tiara…can’t forget that.
That’s not asking for too much, is it?


