Thursday, January 31, 2013

Easy to Please

An important part of my job to be as helpful as I can.

Today, that helpfulness was practiced as an individual came in unannounced and requested an audience with an EngineerFriend.

As the regular Receptionist was just coming back from her lunch break, I was able to take the message to the aforementioned EngineerFriend myself. He was walking down the hallway as I grabbed him and said “So-And-So is here to see you. Would you like to see him, or are you busy?” As he considered his response, he kept walking. I stopped him and said “The gentleman is just outside this door. Might I suggest, if you’re busy, that you don’t walk into his sightlines before brushing him off?” EngineerFriend laughed and regarded his associate, with whom he had been walking. “She’s pretty good!” The associate – who had been my boss in a former lifetime – laughed and said “It’s just one more service she offers.”

If all it takes to appease these masses is a grin and a touch of helpful attitude, I’ve got them licked.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Boil 'Em... Mash 'Em...

Cut off two large slices and wear them as ears...

Potatoes are so versatile.

As a child, they were a staple in my home. They were building blocks. They were weapons. They were dog toys. There wasn't much we couldn't do with a potato... Which was good, because we grew them ourselves (they're cheap food, donchaknow...) and often had oodles of them.

As an adult, I find myself much less enamored with the fruit of the root. But still, nonetheless, every once in a while I just need a little something.

On occasion, the little something is doused in olive oil and herbs and then baked to a delicious crisp.

On other occasions, the little something is smothered in butter and cheese and sour cream and bacon, and then snarfed indelicately as though I hadn't eaten in weeks.

But most often... the little something is potato puree with chive, cream and bacon.

Loaded potato soup is amazing.

It's even more amazing as my Friendly Local Soup Shop has an INCREDIBLE loaded potato soup.


At least...

They did.

Right up to last week, when the bacon started being overly greasy and slightly gross.

And when the potato started to be more lumpy than consistently creamy.

And when it all started being just wrong.

Which led me to do a little thinking.

I love this soup.

And I found this soup shop about a year ago.

Considering that I buy (conservatively speaking) two cups of soup per week...

And I've known about this establishment for twelve months...

And I've only taken a cumulative three weeks off in that time...

I've spent a lot of money on soup.

(Seriously. $5.50 per cup. $11.00 per week. $536.00 in a year. That's a lot of money to spend on soup.)

Especially soup that I could make myself.

(In addition to feeling disheartened about soup quality, my bank account is also feeling slightly pinched due to recent holidays and shenanigans. All the more reason to find thrifty ways to do this.)

So, today, I set off in search of a New Potato Soup Recipe That I Can Make Myself And Then Enjoy For Much Less Money.

Here's today's contestant:

Which proves that classy writing will always win me over. The soup may be crap... but I'm convinced that I can do it.

Let's see where this gets us.

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Never For Granted

It's been a topsy-turvy whirlwindy week-and-then-some for Boyfriend of Amazingness.

As he handles everything that's going on in his world, I'm trying to be The Reminder Of His Ongoing Amazingess.

So I dedicate this fuzzy of warmness I stumbled across today to him.

Sunday, January 20
Image courtesy of 9 Chickweed Lane, available at
Their rights are reserved - respect 'em!

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Give Me Fever...

I feel a fever coming on. Which is unfortunate, because most members of society are down-and-out with flu-like objects these days.

I'm really not up for that.

So in the interest of saving energy, I didn't write a blog post today:

I copied this comic, that made me giggle.

Be well, ReaderFriends.

Monday, January 7
Copyright: Paul Trap, ThatABaby. Don't snitch it without giving him credit.

Monday, January 7, 2013


Being busy over the weekend makes Monday suck.

Because being busy over the weekend means that, when Monday comes around, I'm still geared up for stuff I have to get done around my home.

Like dishes.

And laundry.

And crazy dancing.

I don't get to do dishes at work.

Nor do I get to do laundry.

Not that I would really want to if I could... But still. Knowing that they're at home needing to be done, and I'm at work not being able to do them... It's frustrating.

Moreso because I have to sit still and do boring stuff like process invoices and log paperwork.

Which would be more exciting with crazy dancing, except I can't take my shoes off and one cannot dance crazily with shoes on.

I should be home right now.

But at least my coworkers tried to pacify me with cake.

Which I may have eaten too much of, giving me a sugar high and a skittery brain.

Skitter Skitter Skitter Skitter BOOM.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

In A Name

Names are a funny thing. They're a very personal part of who we are individually - you aren't you without your name. You'd just be a random personage, drifting lazily through life without anyone being able to get your attention unless they beaned you in the back of the head with an empty soda bottle. Everyone would be known as "Hey, you!" And chaos would rule.
But names, by being so personal, can also be an overwhelming source of frustration. That's why it can be so very difficult for parents to come up with a name for their brand new baby. Months of discussion go into picking just exactly the right fit, drawing from cultural and familial influences. Will she love the color purple as much as her mother does, and therefore adore being called "Violet"? Or will the imposition of the name cause her only frustration as society assumes her identity based upon her label? Will she rebel, and begin liking only the color chartreuse, which her mother finds unsightly and will banish from the house, causing the child to dye her hair that awful shade of yellow-green and to begin answering only to "Treusy"?
For me, I hearken back to that frustration when I recall the schoolyard taunts that were tossed my way. When I was a child, I was constantly mocked for my name. “Don’t touch Sunny! She’ll burn you!” the children would scream as they raced around the playground, running to escape my wrath. “I can’t even look at you! It burns! It burns!” A more hurtful soul would have tripped the little fuckers, or tied their shoelaces together and pressed her fingers against their faces to ironically prove once and for all that she wasn't capable of inciting spontaneous combustion, as much as she would like to be. As it was, I ended up just becoming very good at swinging on the swings all by myself.

But childhood antics fade as we enter adulthood. Issues like taxes and making dinner start to outweigh the youthful toils of the mind, and suddenly what was so world-shattering in our youth becomes the tiniest of memories at the back of the mind. Which is why it surprised me, recently, when I was enjoying some Festive Shenanigans with Boyfriend of Amazingness' family that I still bristled at being mocked in such a way. Although I'm now a fully grown adult with taxes and dinner plans taking up oodles of space in my brain, I still puffed up slightly and felt my eyes narrow when a troublesome child regarded me with the same wicked sneer that troublesome children have been perfecting for centuries and said "Sunny, huh? What, do you like, burn people or something?" And then, in the way troublesome children do, he prattled on about it, congratulating himself for his cleverness.
His barb stung me, and left me feeling sour throughout the rest of the afternoon. Which was more attention than the antic was worth in the first place, making me look the fool.
I've digressed.
My point is, names are important.
Which leads me to this:

Public Service Announcement
Fellow Humans: Please consider, just for a moment before opening that orifice just south of your nose, that your words have an impact. I assure you that, no matter how clever the joke you might make about someone's name, they've heard it before. I can also assure you that delivering your quip with a giggle doesn't lessen the sting. Somewhere in their past, a child thought up that same clever witticism and tossed it mockingly their way. And some day you're going to push the buttons of someone a hair's breadth from descending into psycosis. When that happens, you may find yourself on the pointy end of a letter opener, or with a staple puller wrapped deftly about your nose. And after hearing you chuckle about "Hey... Serena... That's kinda like Sabrina! Are you, like, a witch or something? Do you know any magic?", no one is going to stop your attacker.

In fact, they may just high-five her before they turn a blind eye to your plight while she turns you into a toad.

Hypothetically, of course.


Important Addendum: There is nothing that makes it more okay, either. Popular excuses:
"No, really, I like the name <whatever name they just openly mocked>. My mother/grandmother/first girlfriend was named that."
"But your name is so similar to <random other person who shares all or part of the curious name>. You must have heard it all."
In fact... the only excuse I would accept is this:
"My given name is actually Herbert Von Witherbottom, and my parents insisted I go by 'Herbie the Butt' when I was a child. They said it would make me tolerant." That's a man who deserves to give his jabs.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Too Important

Let me tell you a little something about people who declare themselves "Too Important:"

Their existence is pondersome to me.

(And when I say pondersome... I mean that it makes me wonder why they're a necessary part of society.)

For instance, I was told by a dancer during the run of a local show I worked with that he was "too important" to assist with a costume. His narcissism was almost inspiring... or, at least, it would have been if he wasn't so Godawful frustrating. While it played to his strengths onstage, and made him appear to be fantastically cast for his part, most of the crew knew that he wasn't acting outside of his normal living range to plumb the self-important depths of his role.

Meanwhile, in the other parts of my world:

Public Service Announcement

Fellow Humans: I appreciate all that you do. You each have your own important part to play in making this world spin roundy-round, and in return for your efforts, I offer you my thanks.
However, the self-importance is something we should chat about.

You are not so highly regarded or so thoroughly needed that I'll walk on eggshells when you do something insensitive.

Which is why your attitude can be checked at the door when I request that you follow basic health and safety courtesy upon regarding a communal candy dish. It isn't "uncalled for" for me to request that you use the scoop already placed in the bucket 'o treats. What's uncalled for is your nonchalance regarding my reaction to your wrist-deep plunge into the goodies. It's flu season, sweet cheeks, and I don't know where your germs have been. Keep your paws out of my chocolatey goodness.