Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Haikuesday 9/28/10

Another quick fix this week because I'm uber busy. Had a great weekend though filled with the Plaza Art Fair, Apple Picking, Wineries, Irish Pubs & friends. Sometimes, I really just love my life. :-)

Nothing is better
than spending a day with friends
Drinking Apple Wine.

Pop Culture Happy Hour
Each Friday I
wait impatiently for my
PCHH fix.

-over and out-

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Haikuesday 9/21/2010 - Breakfast Edition

I've been inspired by my breakfast today.
Some say it's the most important meal.
On Haikusday I will not delay
My favorite morning foods are bound to appeal......to me. ;-)

Peanut Butter and Waffles
Does a body good.

Greek Yogurt. So smooth.
Where have you been all my life?
On Mount Olympus?

Blueberry Breeze Tea
If all the world's water was
replaced with you. Bliss.*

*But not really, cause that would probably kill the environment.

-Over and Out-

Monday, September 20, 2010

The Case of the Bathroom Banger Bandit

I don't usually blog about trips to the bathroom (I normally just save that for twitter), but something happened today that has tested my patience and my sanity (as you'll see later). If you easily get grossed out by me talking about sitting on the toilet or "doing my business" you might just skip this post and wait around for Haikuesday tomorrow where I'll probably post about flowers or something.

Okay, excellent. Since all the weak of heart people just left, I'll get into the nitty gritty of it.

There are 2 things you need to know about me:

1. My Job Sucks. I'm pretty much stressed out ALL the time, because as soon as I walk into my office and I'm mauled by attacking files that all need to be done RIGHT NOW I want to just walk right back out the door.

2. I hate Loud Noises. I wear earplugs to concerts, and I will put my fingers in my ears at movies sometimes. What I hate most though is unexpected loud noises. Even dropping the shampoo bottle in the shower can freak me out royally. And by "freaked out" I mean I have the sudden urge to a) punch something or b) cry. Or sometimes punch something, then cry because my hand hurts.

So back to the story. Because of item #1, when I take a restroom break, I use that time not only as a time to "do my business," but also as time to "de-stress." I can "sit," take some deep breaths and remember how to relax again. And aside from the weird lady who comes in and starts whispering to herself, or the people that choose to throw away their leftover Indian Food in the bathroom garbage, this method generally works out pretty well.

Well today, I was sitting in my favorite stall, "doing my business" and thinking calm thoughts, when I heard


on the door. (It was not the B-52's.) Somebody was POUNDING on the door. Straight up pounding. Then a male voice piped up "Anybody in there?"

Okay, remember Item #2? Before I could help myself, I started to shake and I croaked out "I.....I'm in here. Excuse me."

I was totally about to do the crying freak out. I could already feel the tears welling up when I heard him say,

"Eh, we'll just come back later."

Later??? My brain was racing and suddenly I felt under pressure to finish immediately. So much for my peaceful 5 minutes of bathroom time. As I tried to calm myself down, another woman came in and did a speed-pee. (A speed-pee is when you actually wonder if her butt made it to the pot before pee started spilling out.) She had come in, out, washed her hands and left by the time I was standing up to flush. Then


"I'M STILL IN HERE!!!!!!" I yelled.

The whole Anger part of the freak out was upon me now. I flushed, slammed the stall door and washed my hands in a really angry fashion (This is possible, you just have to splatter water all over and look mean while you do it), just thinking of what I was going to say to the person who had been so rudely interrupting me. I stormed out of the bathroom, but the hallway was empty.

Now I feel like I've missed my opportunity to teach this guy a lesson. It would have been great to tell this guy about manners and about how banging was not polite. After brooding about this for the last hour, I've come up with a plan.

The Plan:

I will innocently go to the bathroom, not bothering to look down the hallway to see if the Bathroom Banger Bandit is hidden behind the water fountain. Of course, I'll already have been spying out my office window, so I'll know he's there. Then, I'll wait in my favorite stall for the familiar pounding to start again. At this point, I'll remain quiet instead of identifying myself. Puzzled, the Banger Bandit will take a step or two inside the bathroom, and that's when I'll strike!! I'll jump screaming from the toilet seat, tampons in both hands. Before he knows what's happening, I'll stick the tampons up his nose and put a maxi-pad over his mouth to keep him from yelling. Then when his howls of pain and humiliation are muffled, I will tie him up with toiletpaper and protective seat covers. I'll leave him like that, tied up in the handicapped stall (nobody ever uses it) so he won't be found for days and as he sits on the cold floor, tears streaming down his face and tampons still sticking up his nose, he'll realize that he should NEVER pound on the ladies bathroom door. Never. Ever. Again.

Vengeance can be so sweet.

-Over and Out-

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Haikuesday Jazz 9/14/2010

rockin' pneumonia
Is never quite as fun as
boogie woogie flu

Listening to Jazz music this morning and attempting to make some progress on the pile of files on my desk. What used to be a small hill has now grown into what seems to be the Rocky Mountains. I'm really hoping some of this work will be done by the end of the day, so I'm keeping today's Haikuesday post short.

New Orleans Moment
Red Beans & Rice steams in bowls
Kermit blows his horn

Back to the grindstone or something like that anyway.

-Over and Out-

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Hormones. We meet Again.

I felt good yesterday. A little off in the morning, but nothing a shopping trip, a delicious pot of chili and a brownie couldn't cure. Add a hilarious movie and some quality knitting time to that scenario and I'd call yesterday a great day.

Today, I want to stomp on the heads of little animals.

How does a body make such a radical change overnight? Today hasn't been bad. Traffic was good, I drove the nice car to work, and I even had enough sleep. Other than my crappy job (which always brings me down a bit, but shouldn't make me overly angry at the world), there's been nothing about today that has made me want cause harm to others.

And yet I've been on the verge of yelling twice, and I sort of flipped out already this morning. I do not yell. Yelling is not me. But today, I am monster woman. I am swamp thing come up from the depths to devour young teenagers and spit out their remains on my ever-growing bone-pile.

Thus, I am convinced that hormones are the ones screwing with my brain cells. And dealing with hormones doesn't leave much of a solution as to how to fix things (other than locking yourself in a room away from sharp objects). Mother Nature? What purpose do these ridiculous body chemicals serve? Does me turning into a giant Biatch somehow help out the circle of life? I really don't believe that was what Elton John was singing about.

Well, in honor of today's bitchiness, here is some Haikuesdayness:

i'm having trouble
making my Mind write poems
too full to extract

CLA-RAP. Loud noises
frighten my insides, but my
heart grows furious

And just to spice things up, I found this poem while browsing around The Daily Poem.I thought it was pretty appropriate to include with this bad day post.

How to Make Armor
by Jennifer K. Sweeney

Wear your bones like cold-rolled
steel, skin hammered
in brigandine sheets.
Pound leather and shadow
to a stiff segmentata.

Be corset-pinched.

Clad in devices,
night will rise like a wound,
duty bronzed to paldrons
hulking your shoulders.

When your bad decisions are fused
with chain mail and you're dueling
in the silence of thieves,
go at the world in stone.

Fear is a long-revered tradition.

In the carbon-dark, language
is harnessed in its helm
as "order" from the Latin ordo
means closed circle.

Be plate-sealed,
protected as a priest's halberd
wielding against a cauldron
of medicine.

Or lie naked in the dandelions,
pained with sensation.

-Over and Out-