Street Cred

Some days I just want to be comfortable. Like today. I woke up this morning and it was chilly, and it felt like dew had fallen on my pillow.**1 So I put on my ass-tastic jeans, a glittery shirt and a fuzzy sweater.

But yesterday... I wanted to be gorgeous.

And I was.

So yesterday evening, when work was done and I achieved freedom, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. I rocked a sexy saunter**2 down the hill past the parking lot behind my office.

Which is precisely when an individual who works in my office building unknowingly made my day by slamming on his breaks, rolling down his window and yelling out "NICE LEGS!"

I turned and met his eye.

Upon realizing my identity, his face flushed and he declared (at twice the octave he had hit before...) "Oh!"

His head dropped, his window rolled up and he drove away shamefaced.

I, however, raised my chin a little higher and hoped to God I would catch him in the elevator the next morning.**3

**1 It hadn't. In fact, it was an unfortunate case of over-achieving humidifier.

**2 Not unlike my rundown ramble... except that I wear boots.

**3 I didn't. Which is probably good, because I wouldn't really know what to do with myself if I did.

Work Appropriate

Sunny: Check out my new awesome mini-dress that is totally work appropriate!

CoWorker: Well isn't that just a sexy little number!

Sunny: But totally work appropriate. Look! It goes past my fingers! If it's ok for high school...

CoWorker: It's like what those dancers wear, when you don't know if it's a hole in the fabric or if the fabric is just the color of their skin. You know... those dancers... Oh. I think maybe I watch too many reality shows.

Not Your Mother's Candy...

Sunny: Check out my new [shiny, gold foil wrapped] dance cane!

CoWorker: What the hell? Is it, like, chocolate inside or somethin'?

Sunny Smiles - exposing her coworkers to New And Different Cultures since 2006.

Either/Or

Public Service Announcement to Fellow Humans of the More Elderly Persuasion

You may either:

1.     Complain that sitting for hours upon end makes your legs sore and crampy, but do stretches for prevention;

or

2.     Complain that doing stretches makes you look like an idiot, sit at your desk and deal with the leg pain.

Choose one. I won't listen to both. The rest of us would be arthritic old biddies too, if we sat so long that we atrophied.

RaYD,

Sunny

Squisherrific

Public Service Announcement to Fellow Humans Who [Hypothetically] Have Answers To My Questions:

While I appreciate that answering questions can be stressful for you, let me guide you through the little joyfest you just inflicted on me.

I don't like not knowing what I'm doing. I take great strides to know what I'm doing, and ask questions only when it's of the utmost importance.

To that end, when I ask you a question, I assure you that it comes with a tremendous helping of Sunny Strife for "willingly" entering into a conversational triste with you. It's not a decision I make lightly, especially on a Monday morning. (And especially-especially on a Monday-morning-after-a-Friday-that-I-took-off-because-I-wasn't-feeling-well.) If I'm asking you a question... I've run into a wall**1 and am unable to figure out the answer myself.

Rephrasing my question back at me with snark will not make me find the answer on my own. It will simply prompt me to respond "Yes, that's what I'm trying to figure out." But well done - I'm glad we figured that part out together.

You most certainly cannot make me feel guilty for not knowing the answer.

You are the haver of answers. That's why I asked you. It's up to you to answer questions.

It's up to me to be a go-between. A middle-lady. The Tiny, Squishable Bug Between The Rock (you) and The Hard Place (the question).

Thank you for making my time spent there so totally enjoyable.

RaYD,

Sunny

**1 And been smushed into it by a stampeding rhinoceros who was crushed against me by a Mack truck which was being propelled forward by a flock of helicopters, all of which also squished against me.

Now I See You... Now I Don't...

My glasses are back!

Remember when I became a bespectacled personage?

Well... it sucked.

I tried very hard to be good at wearing glasses.

But they sucked.

I couldn't see up close... or far away... or in the middle... Everything was just kind of blurry, all the time.

I tried getting adjustments from the eye doctors...

"You're just getting used to them. You'll be fine. Here's a diagram of what you're supposed to be doing when you use them."

I didn't get used to them.

I wasn't fine.

And I became a hoarder of diagrams that were totally useless because I couldn't see.

But then... I went on vacation.

That glorious two week escape from my office, where I checked my cell phone every other evening and that was my only technological attachment to the outside world.

And you know what?

I didn't need my glasses. I took them off the first day and I was just fine.

So I got back, and tried to still be fine at my computer.

But I wasn't still fine.

I needed something.

So, as a happy end to this pointless story, the doctor turned my progressives into reading glasses... and I can see All The Time!

Which means you have to look out. Any nasty comments you make, I will totally be able to read now.

Consider yourselves warned.

Peppy Pickles

Sunny's List Of

FIVE  STEPS TO A PEPPIER WEDNESDAY

1. Be just late enough to work that you feel like you're getting away with something, but not so late that anyone notices. Six minutes is sufficient.
2. Make your hot cocoa with the second-to-last packet out of a box. Again, you feel like you're getting away with something, but without that guilty obligation to refill the box that often washes over the Taker of the Last Packet.
3. Complete your tasks ahead of schedule.This includes making appointments (extra points if you can get the office where you are trying to make your appointment to call you first**1) and completing work-related duties. Finishing them ahead of time makes you seem - and feel - like a superhero.
4. Have an awesome sister who comes to visit you at work, and brings fresh flowers from the Farmer's Market - a bouquet for home, and a bouquet for the office. You can't have this sister, though. She's mine, and I won't share.
5. Take that sister to the local lunchtime dance class, and have a fantastic time there. Seriously. Shake your sillies out, and wiggle your waggles away.

**1 My doctor's office called me to set up an appointment. Score!

My One Cent

I've been thinking about this day for months!

That's right... months!!

(No, goofball. I didn't sit down and plan out months ago that I would be excited on a Tuesday in September just for the hell of it. I have a reason. You just have to sit tight and find out what it is with the rest of the Everyones.)

This blog post that you're reading....

Yes, this very post right here...

THIS BLOG POST IS THE 100th POST THAT I HAVE POSTED!

How incredible is that?!

I have, over the year-and-some-undetermined-number-of-months-that-I-really-don't-feel-like-counting, been excited to entertain and amaze you with the stories of my Shenanigans. The exciting characters and plot lines here are just too juicy to make up - It's wonderful to have this safe space here with you to share these little tidbits and hopefully a smile or two along the way.

So how did I celebrate this momentous occasion, you ask?

(As well you should ask. It's a momentous occasion indeed, and deserves celebrating.)

This morning, I shipped Boyfriend of Amazingness off for an overnight work 'do. But not before making sure he was well and thoroughly infected with some sort of jungle plague. Sniffles? Check. Cough? Check. Wheeze? Super check. Then I just had to wake him up early and push him out the door.**1

I spent most of the morning frantically trying to get caught up on projects.

When I wasn't frantically trying to get caught up on projects, I was thundering around my cubby with steam pouring out of my ears.

See, this wasn't a particularly momentous occasion for the Coworkers-From-A-Former-Life. So they thought perhaps today would be as good a day as any to subject my hair to third-degree brainburns, instead of bringing me cuppycakes.

Which prompts me to end this blog post the way this whole Blog idea began:

Public Service Announcement 

to Users of the "Carbon Copy" Feature On E-mails

Thank you for your efforts to completely undermine an entire team of hard workers with your carbon-copied shenanigans. Not only did you succeed in involving four additional people on an e-mail that required only three from the very beginning, but you did so with such zest and authority that you managed to alienate two of the (arguably) kindest individuals in the entire building. With that, you have demoted yourself quite thoroughly to the bottom of my proverbial totem pole. Beware: If you sniff while you're down there you'll probably pick up an earthworm.

Upon taking charge, you promptly decided that the previously involved individuals must have spent the past week-and-a-half munching on bonbons and enjoying adorable YouTube videos of How To Wrap Your Cat for Christmas.**1 I assure you that this wasn't the case. I do thank you, though, for being there to tell us each step we needed to take - without a premonition of your firm and understanding guidance, we would never have gone through exactly the same steps a week prior, and would have most certainly needed to ask for additional assistance today.

Oh, wait.

RaYD,
Sunny

**1 Shoutout, Mom. I love you! Thank you for making the ungiggly days more giggly with your YouTube finds.

Also: Shoutout to Boyfriend of Amazingness, who won't see this because he thinks he hears all the stories fresh from the Sunny's mouth. Which isn't wrong. But still. Sometimes my clever phrasing is more clever in writing. So here's to you, my wonderfully patient sounding board. Thank you for listening while I sit on the couch and steam during your videogames and your favorite sitcoms. And thank you for sharing your own horror stories, too, so I know that I'm not on this little adventure through occasional malcontent alone.

Lunchtimes are for Dreaming

Here's what I spent lunchtime doing instead of writing a witty blog post:

• Browse Facebook for recent happenings
• Find friend's home for sale
• Dream about homeownership
• Circular-file homeownership dream in favor of Maintaining Manageable Monthly Budget dream
• Congratulate self on impromptu alliteration
• Browse E-mail for recent happenings
• Find backlog of e-mails regarding Outside of Work Commitments
• Create to-do list regarding Outside of Work Commitments
• Congratulate self on being proactive about following up on Outside of Work Commitments
• Greet mailman
• Sign for certified package
• Congratulate self on doing actual work-related stuff during lunch
• Browse Facebook and E-mail as reward for being so worthy of Congratulations

And then, the final step...

• Feel guilty about leaving ReaderFriends out in the cold without a witty thought to tide them through.
• Search Internet for suitable picture that will hold them over
• Find nothing
• Settle on photo of feet from weekend shenanigans in a Department Store Dressing Room

Yup. You see what you see. MONKEY FOOTED PAJAMAS.

Imperfections

On occasion, I can be a little difficult at home.

I know, you're astounded.

It's easy to think that I'm perfect, obviously... but I'm here to tell you that isn't the case at all.

I'm especially imperfect when I'm in a just-awakened state. It takes about ninety minutes in the morning for my hamster to embrace his proverbial wheel and get me going.

Which means that, on occasion, I do stupid stuff while I'm half-asleep.**1 I mostly just sit on the couch and watch the lights on the router blink until my brain will engage... but sometimes I go so far as to try to carry on conversations. Or move with purpose. And that can be a problem.

Additionally, when I'm asleep, I'm a bit of a thrasher.

My Maternal Unit has compared me to an egg beater, a hurricane, a windmill  and a tornado. And none of those very flatteringly. My arms and legs and head tend to whip about in a mad frenzy, which often puts co-sleepers in harm's way.

In other words... on occasion, I can also be a little bit punchy at home.

Not punchy like "I'm going to grump my way around the general vicinity..."

But more like swinging-fists-and-flailing-heads-and-causing-general-mayhem-and-pain.

Which is how I went to work this morning with a banged up forehead, and Boyfriend of Amazingness almost had to go to work with a broken nose.**2

**1 Boyfriend of Amazingness says he's going to write a book about it. I wish he would - I bet it's literary gold. Not that I remember a blasted word of it...

**2 "Almost" in that I didn't actually break it with my forehead. Not in that he didn't actually have to go to work. Although that would have been a pretty sweet phone call. "Sorry, boss... I can't come in today. Sunny broke my nose. No... it was an accident... I was trying to kiss her goodbye for the morning, and she wanted to help."

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

Space has always been amazing to me.

(Remember yesterday, when I admitted publicly to my inner geekdom? Well... that continues here. If a fabulous lady with a brain is appalling to you, please escort yourself thusly... I get enough of that elsewhere thankyouverymuch!)

I find space fascinating. The amazing beauty, the astounding depths of unknown knowledge... it's all so intriguing. (Even though I'm scared of the dark.) Becoming an astrophysicist is a career path I was yearning to follow long before my favorite sitcom was popular. Unfortunately, it wasn't feasible. Maybe someday the stars will align and I'll chase that proverbial dream... but for now, I'll enjoy reliably paying my bills and not having thousands of dollars of student-loan debt.

I can just celebrate my geekdom with this dress:

Seriously. How amazing is this dress?

And pretend that I'm okay with crunching numbers on an invoice instead of to answer the unanswerable questions of the universe.**2

Which means today I was giddy as a schoolgirl as I listened to this live interview between Bill Nye the Science Guy**1, the students whose experiments were selected for the Space Lab program on the International Space Station, and the astronaut reporting live via satellite from the International Space Station:



It's pretty amazing to see what high school kids are doing, and how the scientific community is supporting their growth into the future.

**1 Fantastical childhood flashback, anyone?

**2 Except that they aren't unanswerable. The answer is obviously 42.

Yours, Awkwardly...

As One-Who-Watches-Over-The-Engineering-Folk, I have certain hobbies that come with the territory. They ooze into my personality and, before I know it, I'm talking publicly about my relationship with Pi.

Now, much of my personality came from my own personal territory - what I learned growing up. My parents watched Star Trek and Star Wars. They taught me about what culture they could (<hem-hem> Dukes of Hazard... <hem-hem> The A-Team... you see where we're going with this.) And then I adopted culture of my own as an adult. I'm particularly fond of The Big Bang Theory. If Penny can do it, so can I.

Thus, on occasion, I find myself subscribing to e-mails from websites that I just had to join.

Like ThinkGeek.

And the little love note they sent me today, which is right up the alley of many an EngineerFriend that tried to have a real conversation with an outsider...

Hi, Sunny!

How are you? How's the family? When do the hugs start? Now? No?

Sorry; maybe that was too much. September is International People Skills Month so we're just buffing our social Dexterity and Charisma. We've got a ways to go before we level up.

Let's get to it the old-fashioned internet way, then: You have <rewards!>, and we've updated our list of redeemables below. There. That was so much easier without the smalltalk--and no threat of hugs!

Yours, awkwardly,

--ThinkGeek Monkeys

Older Than My Years

Remember yesterday when I wasn't feeling so hot?

Well... that continues into today. I'm feeling better... but still a little linty around the edges.**1

And when I'm sick, I have a certain sequence of events that I try to follow so I don't get more sick. It doesn't matter whether I've got the flu or the sniffles - the procedure remains constant, so one doesn't turn into the others. (Although it would be a pretty cool trick if you could turn the flu into the sniffles. Work on that, won't you?)

STEP ONE: Recognize impending sickness as actual sickness, instead of inhaled dustbunnies/overtiredness/psychosomaticality.

STEP TWO: Begin drinking water in a fashion that would put the little fishes to shame.

STEP THREE: Locate and put on every sweater, hat, scarf and pair of socks in my home.

STEP THREE-POINT-ONE: Rock the Babushka look without shame. 

STEP FOUR: Wrap up in blanket (in addition to all other clothes) and try to kill the germs with heat and fluids.

STEP FIVE: Once sweat>germs, shower and resume normal activity.

I found myself in Prime Babushka Territory this morning, as I bundled into my jeans and socks and double-layered sweater and oversized wool scarf (that I wrapped around my head in a babushka-esque fashion).

Just like this.**3

Boyfriend of Amazingness probably made a funny comment about how I looked like an old Polish grandmama...

But I wouldn't know, because I was in the Ultimate Self-Swaddle Of Anti-Sickness.

By tomorrow, you won't even recognize me for my awesome healthfulness.


**1 I think that should be on the doctor's Pain Scale. Somewhere between a 2 and a 3 - just enough to throw off your game, but not enough to make you take the horse pills that would be prescribed if you actually hauled yourself into the doctor's office.**2

**2 You should check out Ali's "A Better Pain Scale" at Hyperbole and a Half. Because it's totally awesome, too.

**3  Photo Credit: http://cdn.buzznet.com/assets/users16/neverallthere/default/babushka-kitties--large-msg-118064581823.jpg


SERIOUSNOTE: No, ReaderFriends, the significance of today's date has not escaped my notice. However, I decided to approach this 11th anniversary of the 2001 terrorist attacks in the same fashion which I have been trying to approach the rest of this year: With a little sparkle. By bringing in a little light, and recognizing that, no matter the situation, there is a glimmer of hope to be found. I still urge you to find a sense of togetherness with your fellow Americans. Go volunteer somewhere. Attend a religous service, if that suits you. Share a smile or a hug with a stranger. Give a pint of blood to help save lives into the future. There are always ways to remember, and I definitely think you should. Don't dwell... don't fester... don't hold on to anger... just remember.

Cuppycake

I don't feel well today.

It's as though the dustbunnies I spent the weekend stirring up have all found a new domicile within my sinus cavity.

So instead of being witty, I offer you this picture of my morning cuppycake instead.



Mondays are always better with frosting.



Friday, Gamer Style

It hasn't been a snazzeriffic week in SunnyLand.

In fact... most of the week has downright sucked.

But today, I decided it would not suck... and would be awesome instead.

True story.**1

So this morning, much like the character we know and love (and my beloved co-hobbyists**2), I armor-suited up.

"How so?!" you ask?

Here's how:

• Puffy Pigtail Buns of Nonchalant Excellence (+3 in combat against naggers who appear in cubicle doorways. IE: "Sunny, I asked you yesterday and this morning to... Oh! Cute hair!")
• Vacation Necklace of Happy Memories (+2 in combat against negativity. For instance: political ads daren't populate my computer screen today, because my pendant sparkles them into silence.)
• Purple Sweater of Ultimate Plunginess (+5 in combat against self-doubt. Just try to look in the mirror and find fault when your eyes are immediately drawn to how fantastically purple and skinny you look.)
• Butt-Tastic Blue Jeans of Cleanliness and Wonder (+3 in combat against unsightly office-worker seat-sag. No explanation needed - you know what I'm talking about.)

And most importantly...

• Purple Glitter Pumps of Ultimate Power (+10, because they're purple. And glitter. And they're shoes.)**3

So Friday can bring it. My horoscope says five stars (and Boyfriend of Amazingness is having a four-star day, too, so I'm feeling excellent by proximity, too...) and it's payday and I've refilled my candy jar and I might even get out of work early to go enjoy a tasty beverage and a street vaudeville show.

Because, ReaderFriends, I'm awesome and I know it.

**1 Flagrantly word-lifted from How I Met Your Mother. Give them the credit - it's their words, I just sprinkle them liberally over my life.

**2 <shamelessplug>Want to learn more? Visit your local chapter. </shamelessplug>

**3 I work with Engineers, remember? A wise person once said "An extroverted Engineer looks at someone else's shoes." It's important.

Whip It... Whip It Good...

Public Service Announcement to Askers of Questions

When you ask if I can help with something, I will typically try to do so. When I don't do so, it's for one of two reasons:

1) I've been chastized about taking care of this before, because it's someone else's responsibility;

or

2) I have no idea how to help you.

In either case, I will direct you to someone better suited to meeting your needs.

So when I direct you to someone else, what I'm saying is "I am unable to assist you, so I am pointing you in a different direction and washing my hands of this situation. I have other action items to take care of, and I need not waste either of our time futzing with this."

What I'm not saying is that you should ask me to "take a look at it anyway." I've looked. I've assessed my capabilities against your requirements. And I have found myself to have shortcomings that will hinder your situation. There's no point in my doing it again - it's obvious that you're not reading my reports back to you anyway.

But I applaud your energies spent whaling away on that proverbial Dead Horse. You're really going to town.

RaYD,

Sunny

Suitable Attire

Did you see what I did there? I'm talking about clothes, and I said suitable. As in suitable. Because suits are something you wear.

Well... I thought it was funny.

Anyway.

I've developed an interest lately in "vintage" clothing.

Not vintage like 1920's flapper costumes... more like vintage 1950's/1960's twenty-something outfits.

Dresses in particular.

Which is unfortunate, on two fronts:

1) Cute, vintage clothing is expensive. So I'd have to work extra hours to afford them.
2) Cute, vintage clothing is often Not Suitable (har-de-har... I did it again...) For Work. So I'd be working extra hours but not able to enjoy the fruits of my labor most of the time.

Which means that I just waste hour after hour daydreaming about fanciful frocks that I should really just get over.

But seriously... who wouldn't love to own one of these?

Mmm-Hmm...

I woke up this morning with a crick in my neck.

What a pain.

Not because I can't tip my head to the right to hold the phone while I type...

Not because I can't roll my head around to alleviate the strain of holding up my amazing brainpan as I gawk at the computer...

Not even because I have to begin all upper body movements from just below my shoulderblades...**1

No.

This is a pain, because as soon as I realize I have a crick in my neck, I immediately think of the song "Crick In My Neck" by a popular Country/Rap performer named Cowboy Troy.

And it's unfortunately catchy.

Which is why I'm sharing it here with you!

"Crick In My Neck"**2

Enjoy, my ReaderFriends. And thank you for sharing my pain.

**1 I look like an owl, only less awesome.
**2 It pains me to use a link not generated directly by the artist. However, he doesn't seem to have this song on his stream. So... we'll use this.