If You Can't Say Something Nice...
Say Something Vague

Soup Weather!

Back when Jenny and I used to work together, weather like SoCal's current 'torrential downpour' (which constitutes typical rain in pretty much every other part of the country), would spur lunch at Mimi's Cafe. We would declare soup weather, and go have their French Onion or Corn Chowder soups.

As an homage to Jenny, today I went to Boudin, the bakery originating in San Francisco that serves lovely soups in sourdough bread bowls. (There's one at Metro Pointe next to South Coast Plaza) I've never been before, but decided to go in and I tried their split pea and ham. In a bread bowl, of course.

Mmmmmmmm. Soup.

Mini-rants

1) Can someone please tell me why it is actually worse to go to Best Buy now that Christmas is over. Did every single person in Orange County hate all their electronic gifts and absolutely need to return them between 1:30-2:30 today? The parking lot at Metro Point (South Coast Plaza) was a nightmare, and the line was almost as long as on the 23rd. I don't get it.

2) I stopped at 7-11 on my way to work this morning to get a hot chocolate. They were out of those little sleeves that keep you from burning your hand on their flimsy faux-foam cups, so I double-cupped mine. When I got up to the counter, it was the cashier who I've seen there a few times on similar expeditions. This guy always tries to flirt with me (he's not very good at it), and makes little wisecracks. So when I put my hot chocolate on the counter and he told me he would have to charge me for two drinks because I was using two cups...well, can you blame me that I didn't believe him? I just sort of made one of those fakey smiles and waited for him to tell me how much to pay. But he kept insisting that their inventory is based on the cup and not the liquid in the cup, so I would have to pay for two drinks. I pointed out that this was because they were out of the little sleeves and he said that he knew, but that he would get in trouble if the inventory didn't match up because he let me have that extra cup. I took the second cup, forced it into his hand, and told him to tell his boss that that was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. Am I wrong?!?

Grrrr.

Merry & Terry

I hope everyone had a Merry Holiday--whatever religion or background you ascribe to. Mine was quite delightful and I was once again spoiled ridiculously by The Boy and my family. Not that I mind!

I received lots of knitting stuff, a couple of new books, some darling accessories for my car, and loads of other goodies.

How 'bout you? Did you clean up?

Yesterday my mom and I were watching the last bit of The Cutting Edge (yes, it's most definitely a chick flick) and I kept wondering why I recognized her dad in the movie. Finally, when I saw the credits, it clicked. Terry O'Quinn, Kate's rich dad in The Cutting Edge is the crazy hunter-guy on Lost--Locke, my most favoritest new show on TV. Yes, I know. Terribly exciting for y'all, huh?

To My Geek Friends, With Love

All made of Gingerbread. Yum. I'm gonna eat me some Windows!

I found these by way of Web Goddess. It looks like she found them at Popgadget.

Tomorrow's a half day for me, so I may not post. If not, have a great Christmas to my Christian or Consumerist friends. Hope you had a nice Hanukkah, if you're Jewish. Happy Kwanzaa, if that's your winter holiday of choice. :)

Migraines Suck

You know. In case that's news to you. Yesterday I woke up with one doozy of a migraine. The worst that I can recall ever having. I didn't want to miss work with so much going on so I came in -- am I stupid, or what? I lasted just an hour.

During that hour I got absolutely no work done. My head was in my hands almost that entire time with silent tears of pain streaming down my cheeks.

With those tears went my work ethic. I emailed my boss and my quasi-boss and told them that I knew it was the absolute worst time for me to be out with the re-launch and everything, but I was in horrible pain and needed to go home. And then (gasp!) I went. I didn't dawdle and finish 'one more thing' as I am wont to do. The pain was practically a living, breathing entity that grabbed my sorry carcass and dragged it out to the car.

A 7 hour nap in the dark helped. But didn't kill it. Today is the migraine hangover--like a really, really bad headache but pleasant compared to yesterday.

I'm still uber-busy with work, so this was just a quick note to say that I'm still alive--barely.

Go watch this for some distraction. :)

A Dark Secret Revealed

I have wanted a Barbra Streisand Christmas album since I was a freshman in college. I got made fun of for this and so never bought it. I may break down today since all my other Christmas music has gone AWOL.

The Scariest Thing Ever

I was at Target yesterday, looking for a Christmas gift add-on for my sister Heather, and I saw this.

Creeeeeepy!

I had to walk into the next aisle quickly. I was afraid it might hurt me.

MEMO

TO: All of my female co-workers

RE: The bathroom is not the social hotspot of the company!

Perhaps I should remind you of the primary function of the bathroom? To put it delicately, it is for relieving your bladder or bowels. Secondarily it may also be a place for primping or changing your clothes before you go to the gym. What is it not? It is not the place to 'hang out' and chat. Especially with me.

When I go into the bathroom, I do not want to talk to you. At all. I'd prefer it if we didn't even make eye contact. But if you must, please restrain yourself and restrict your conversational overtures to 'hello' or 'how ya doin'?'. It is not appropriate or necessary to ask me for details on my job or my engagement, or anything that requires more than a one or two word answer.

Contrary to what you all seem to think, I DO NOT enjoy having in-depth conversations with you in the bathroom. I don't want to answer any personal questions. I do not want to hear about your daughter's cheerleading team, your new pool, or your health issues. When I try to edge my way to the door, don't open new lines of conversation, just to keep me talking to you. I hate being rude, and find it difficult to flat-out walk out on you mid-sentence, but don't think I won't reach that point soon.

If you really want to talk to me, what's wrong with the kitchen, or my cubicle? Why must it always be the bathroom?

Also along those lines, why, why, WHY do you insist on having intensely personal discussions with others in the bathroom? If you must do this, why don't you first check to see if you have any hostages in the stalls? Because that's what we are. Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to be 'doing one's business' and forced to listen to your tale of woe about your unexpected pregnancy and what you should do about it?? It's so awkward! I'm not an invited part of this conversation, but I'm now trapped in the stall until you are done with your interminable talk and physically exit the premises. It's either hide out like this, or walk out in the middle of your story and pretend I didn't just hear you baring your soul. Or get unwillingly caught up in your situation because I've overheard something I ought not to have. Spare me this anxiety, please.

People, I'm begging here. Please observe basic bathroom etiquette, and let's all pretend we're invisible and mute when we go in there, okay?

Thank you.

Have You Met My New Friend Vicodin?

Yep. So I'm still having a lot of pain. I finally broke down and called the dentist's office yesterday. They were out. The dentist had taken her staff to The Burke Williams' Spa. I think that is great and all, but I really could have used less holiday cheer and more prescribing from them at that moment!

Today I talked to the office manager -- who also used to be the dental assistant -- and she told me that it was normal that I would continue to have pain this long because of the depth that the root canal had to go. GRRRREEEEAAAATTT. Then she said, "But you're on painkillers, right?"

Er, NO! I told her that the Dr. had not given me any happy pills, and instead had suggested Motrin. WHICH DOES NOT WORK. She very quickly put me on hold and came back to tell me I was getting an Rx. I did. About 4 hours later, but beggars can't be choosers, right?

So, me and Vic (and maybe The Boy, if he's very good), we're going to party tonight. Pick up a Christmas tree. Decorate it. Go to sleep early. Woohoo!

That Vic, he can be such a pill.

HAHAHAHA!

Yes, I am pathetic, thank you.

Ode To A Loose Crown

May I recommend that you not eat gummy sourballs if you know that you have a loose crown? I had a temporarily mounted crown that came loose a few weeks ago. I did not go to the dentist. As a result, I was eating a gummy sourball at a friend's house on Sunday, and almost swallowed the crown.

The crown, then, would no longer stay mounted to the tooth. This was a problem, as it led to exposure of a nerve in the tooth and intense pain whenever I drank or ate anything. Or, you know, breathed.

Yesterday I called the dentist's office to see whether they could fit me in this week and permanently mount the crown. They urged me to come in right away. Within about 1-1/2 hours, I was told that I needed an emergency root canal. Talk about a fun Monday!

4 HOURS LATER, I left the office in intense pain. And, guess what? IT'S STILL THERE! I may have a big mouth, but I have a very small jaw. Imagine holding your teeny tiny little jaw open for 4 hours. IT HURTS. A lot. And it triggered a mini migraine behind my left eye.

Today we have a very important team meeting. Actually, it's both today and tomorrow. But my very nice boss said that if it gets to be too much, I can go home. Do you understand how tempting that is? The only time it doesn't hurt is when I'm unconscious. Being unconscious at work is not always good for the old career, ya know?

Don't get me wrong, I have a really nice dentist. And she's very gentle. She does whatever she can to help the patient out if they are (like me) afraid of dentists, or (like me) have a low pain threshold. She did take a lot of mini breaks to give me a chance to rest my jaw, but it's just the accumulation of all that time that has gotten to me. Wah! I'm such a crybaby.

Well, that's it. Just a reminder that good dental health is important unless you want to end up like me. I'm now a cautionary tale for children everywhere...

Wherefore Art Thou Amanda?

Okay, I DO know that 'wherefore' actually means 'why', and I'm not really asking why she's Amanda. I just want to know if my friend Amanda Charles (not the porn star) will ever return to bloggerdom?! I just want to know that she is okay.

Thank you.

[sigh]

The government knew about Abu Ghraib. Couldn't have guessed that one!
According to the Washington Post here, Army generals in Iraq received a confidential report warning that "members of an elite military and CIA task force were abusing detainees" in December 2003 -- "more than a month before Army investigators received the photographs from Abu Ghraib prison." The investigation, conducted by retired Col. Stuart A. Herrington, warned the abuse would "imperil U.S. efforts to quell the Iraqi insurgency" by "making gratuitous enemies" as U.S. forces conducted sweeps "netting hundreds of detainees who probably did not belong in prison and holding them for months at a time."

WalMart and Money. Who knew?
According to Xu Jun, Wal-Mart China's director of external affairs, "If Wal-Mart were an individual economy, it would rank as China's eighth-biggest trading partner, ahead of Russia, Australia and Canada." Wal-Mart imports so much merchandise from China to the United States that it has "largely influenced the US trade deficit in China, which is expected to reach $150 billion this year." [read more at Americanprogressaction.org]

Not satisfied with destroying culture and small industry in the U.S., Walmart branches out into Mexico

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From McSweeney's Lists, an updated bumper sticker:

War Is Healthy for Cheney and Other Nonliving Things.

Heh.

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Another McSweeney's list, dear to my heart (for obvious reasons):

Songs That Wouldn't Have Been Hits
If They'd Been Grammatically Correct
*****
Lie, Lady, Lie
I Have Eyes for Only You
I Must Be Myself*
Whom Do You Love?
(There) Isn't Any Sunshine When She's Gone
(There) Isn't Any Mountain High Enough
Love Me Tenderly
*I've Gotta Be Me

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And finally, more reasons that celebrities shouldn't be allowed to breed: Julia Roberts' new twins are named Hazel Patricia and Phinneas Walter

To quote Jon Stewart said from The Daily Show

"Roberts named her babies Hazel and Phinneas because she doesn't like children."