Stretchy

So... stretching, what's up with that?

There are two guys at my gym who spend substantial amounts of time stretching.

CollegeKid stretches sometimes downstairs, sometimes upstairs by the treadmills. But, it's not uncommon for him to spend a solid 20 minutes stretching before he runs.

TallGuy stretches downstairs. He spent at least 40 minutes stretching tonight. He started when I was about 5 minutes into my run and then he was still stretching when I left. Why does he need to stretch for so long? At some point, aren't you stretched already? I don't know that I even know enough different ways to stretch that I could find a way to fill up 40 minutes.

It did provide some amusement for me tonight though. TallGuy had a rubber band thing that he used to stretch by wrapping the end of it around his shoe. He lifted up his leg with it and the rubber band slipped off and snapped him in the face.

I tried not to laugh (out loud), but I'm pretty sure I snorted. It was hilarious. I had to put my face in my hands and look away.

That's what you get for trying to be limber, dude. Suck it up.

World of Warcraft

That Mountain Dew commercial kind of makes me want to play World of Warcraft.

But, then I think, do I really need to be that girl? I really don't need another reason to sit around and play on the computer. I've already embraced my nerd-dom, but I'm not sure I need to ramp it up and take it to the next level.

I'm pretty happy with the level I'm on, so I'm not going to pursue this any further.

But, c'mon, it kind of looks fun, doesn't it?

Statistically

Here's a snippet of a conversation I was having with my Dad this morning:

D: Powerball is up to $250 million. If you have an extra $20 you should play.

Me: People who win the lottery are usually unhappy. You want me to be unhappy?

D: Stupid people who win the lottery are unhappy. You'll be fine. Plus...

Me: Plus?

D: Well, you're statistically more likely to get attacked by a shark than win the lottery. But, if you manage to win the lottery, do you realize how statistically unlikely it is that you'd be attacked by a shark, too?

Me: Right, because those things are inversely proportional to one another?

D: You'd be bulletproof.

Me: Sign me up.

Anybody else going to be playing Powerball tonight?

Juice Guy

My employer provides free juice, milk and popcorn and the people in this building go through like green tea like it's going out of style. So, there are about 10 jugs of Green Tea sitting out in the break room, I assume because they didn't fit in the refrigerator.

The note accompanying the jugs reads:

These jugs are fine to sit out. The tea will not spoil.

Thanks,
Juice Guy

I pretty much love that he signed the note "Juice Guy"
It makes sense. If he had signed his name, I would have thought, "who the hell is that?"

Still, awesome!

Why I Love the X Games - Part Two

Here is some of the commentary from the Moto X Freestyle competition I was watching tonight on TiVO.

Commentator 1: It's interesting to note that no non-US or international player has ever won this competition.

Commentator 2: Isn't non-US and international basically the same thing?

Commentator 1: Uh, well Americans can be international, too, so I just wanted to be clear that it was non-US.

Damn, are they dumb! They know a lot about Moto X. They can tell you what the tricks are and pretty much the complete history of every trick, but when they get to jabbering outside of their industry specific knowledge, holy shit are they dumb!

Luckily, that just makes it more entertaining for me. It may or may not make the husband uncomfortable when I shout back at the television and tell them how dumb they are.

Breaking Bad News with Baby Animals

After the Staff meeting today, Fargo came by my cubicle. Fargo's a pretty cool guy, but usually he only drops by to discuss business. Not today. Today was my lucky day.

He brought by a postcard book called "Breaking Bad News with Baby Animals"

This is fucking brilliant! Beware baby animals from now on people, because from this point onward, I'm breaking all my bad news with a baby animal.

Who could be upset by receiving a postcard saying "You don't matter", when it's accompanied by a little kitten? Mew. Mew.

"You're not the father", when it's accompanied by two adorable little ducklings?

Is there any bad news that can't be counteracted with the cuteness of baby animals?

One of my favorites was a bulldog puppy that says "You were a mistake" Fargo and I discussed sending that one through interoffice mail to a co-worker who really gets on our nerves and signing it "XOXO Love, Mom"

Of course since neither of us particularly wants to get fired, we're not going to do that. Um, it might be a little mean too. Especially since that particular dude isn't very bright, he might not realize it wasn't from his momma. Ha!

(That dachshund is so adorable, even if he does seem a little creepy pimpin' with that caption)

I seem to be writing about correspondence a lot lately.

What can I say? I like written correspondence. It's unfortunate for you that you'll never know if I'm going to pick you up or slap you down.

Am I going to tell you you're terrific or that I'm banging your wife?

It's like a mini-mystery in every envelope.

I like to think that it takes a lot of talent to make the mail scary.

Terrific

I think I've mentioned before that there is a Life's Little Instructions poster above my dentist's chair. Most of the "instructions" are pretty annoying, some... some I take to heart.

For example, "Send lots of Valentine's Day cards. Sign them 'Someone who thinks your terrific'"

I think that's a great/ridiculous idea, only I don't want to wait until stinking Valentine's Day. No, I'm going to implement this plan now. I'm going to buy a bunch of cards and send them out to people. No return address. No nothing. Just "Someone who thinks you're terrific" (I'm going to go ahead and spell you're correctly though, hopefully that doesn't ruin it) I may even dot an i with a little heart or add an exclamation point. We'll see. I've got to keep it real. 

If you know me and I know your address, you're probably getting a card.

If you read this blog and I don't know your address, leave it on the comments or send me an email (quartergoddess@yahoo.com) and I'll send you a card, too. Because, you're probably pretty terrific and everybody deserves to be told so every now and again.

Plus, I think it's funny. (Don't worry, I'll still mean it)

I thought about picking some random names out of the phone book and sending them cards. It seems like it would be nice to get a card out of nowhere that told me I was terrific. But, then again it would drive me nuts not to know who sent it. Plus, what if I accidentally caused some poor couple to break up because they couldn't figure out who would send their significant other a card about how terrific they are? 

I wouldn't want that on my conscience. On the other hand, they really should have a little more faith in their partner. 

Cards for everybody!

Signed,

Someone who thinks you're terrific

Naked Laundry

You know what's annoying about doing laundry? It's never done. I'm always wearing clothes which at the end of the day, go right in the laundry basket. 

Anybody else ever feel like just doing the laundry naked? You know, so when you're done, you're done. Every item of clothing in the house is officially clean. 

Please! You know you've thought the same thing. 

P.S. You may want to avoid my house on laundry day. 

Or not. Naughty bird.

Inappropriate Laughter

So, the thing is I hate feet. I think they are gross. My sister used to chase me around and threaten to touch me with hers. I hate her feet. They're not particularly gross or anything, but I don't want them touching me. Ever. EVER. 

But, sometimes when you practice yoga, you have to touch your feet. For example, today the yoga instructor had us doing the happy baby pose, supposedly it's good for your back. 

At the end of every session there is a period called savasana, which for those of you who don't practice yoga is at the end of class where you just sort of lie there with your eyes shut and relax. You're not supposed to think about anything but your breath. Today's yoga instructor likes to do what they call an "assist." It's basically where she rubs some aromatherapy stuff on her hands and she sort of pushes on your shoulders, moves your neck around and sort of massages your scalp a bit. 

It smells good and it's relaxing. Usually. Today, all I could think is that she touched her feet with those hands and is now rubbing my hair with them. Which logically should have grossed me out, but instead made me want to giggle. A lot. I'm pretty sure that goes against the enlightened, zen sort of attitude that we're supposed to take during savasana, so I tried very, very hard to keep it under control. 

And I was very nearly successful at that. 

Poor woman. 

Someday, I'll be a grown up and I won't laugh at inappropriate stuff. Um, maybe.

That's Super.

Today, I team taught a class for work. I taught the class with J.J., the self-proclaimed "third funniest person at {company where I work}". 

We're required, as instructors, to hand out reviews so that all the shiny, pretty people taking our class can give us feedback. 

From one girl in particular, J.J.'s feedback was, "funny, very informative"

My feedback from the same girl, "super funny, very helpful"

J.J. was a little distraught about this "super" business. 

It was a momentary setback though as he quickly decided that it was simply possible that I was the "first or second funniest person at {company where I work}". 

Doesn't bode very well for my company. 

So, I got that going for me, which is nice. 

Wait, what?

Over the weekend, the husband and I took a holiday to Milwaukee with the usual round of suspects (mr. blume, manricor, Snoop and DaisyDukes) We went to the Strawberry Festival in Cedarburg during the day and a dinner cruise at night for all you can eat tacos and margaritas. 

As a side note: This was the night I learned that all-you-can-eat means probably-don't-want-to-eat. And there is a vast difference between tequila and "tequila"

After a fun, but long day, Snoop, DaisyDukes, the husband and I headed over to our hotel to get some much desired sleep. (manricor and mr. blume shacked up with her sister)

You would think that this is where the fun ended, but you would be wrong. You would be so, so very wrong. It was where it all began.

The husband booked us for one night at the Quality Inn in Brookfield. (Should've stayed at the La Quinta?) I can't remember the time exactly, but I think we got to the hotel just past midnight. 

We had already called them earlier and told them that we would be checking in late, so we weren't particularly concerned at that point. There were two men behind the desk when the husband went up to check in. Once they looked up our reservation, the two guys exchanged a look. 

"Um, we just need to make sure that your room is ready," the first guy behind the desk said. 

Wait, what? It's past midnight. Why would our room not be ready?

The husband said as much, while DaisyDukes and I were laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. I tried to stop because it seemed mildly rude, but seriously, why would our room not be ready? The first guy sent the second guy to make sure that our room was ready and assured us that "everything was okay." 

Summerfest was going on in Milwaukee last weekend, so there weren't any other hotels to be had. We really didn't have a better option than to wait for our room to be ready. 

While I was attempting to get ahold of myself, the husband was making conversation with the guy behind the desk who we learned was from Bulgaria. 

This is my favorite part of their conversation, to the best of my recollection:

Bulgaria: I like Wisconsin because it is social.

The husband: Yeah, like us right now.

(Note: Social - pertaining to, or characterized by friendly companionship or relations) 

Bulgaria: Um, yah. You can get free healthcare and cheap medication in Wisconsin. 

(Note: Social - pertaining to activities designed to remedy or alleviate certain unfavorable conditions of life in a community, esp. among the poor)

The husband: Huh? Oh, right.

Bulgaria: It's good, when you are poor like us. 

The husband, completely deadpan: I like free drugs. Do you like drugs?

After about 15 minutes of this, our room was finally "ready". Snoop and DaisyDukes might or might not have slept in a dirty bed on dirty pillows. (Happy Anniversary guys!) Plus, I'm not sure, but I think there might have been a family of Bulgarian refugees sleeping in our box springs. It's hard to fit in there, so it would explain why they needed so much time to get our room ready. 

But, when you're poor like us, what else can you expect?

My New Bunny

Remember this?

That's right, it's the bunny eating a cookie that makes me laugh. I've got a new "bunny with a cookie", by which I mean something that I laugh about every time I think about it and I keep thinking that I'm going to get over it and the next time I think about it, it won't make me laugh, so I keep testing it and so far, still laughing.

My New Bunny

At work, we have weekly meetings between myself, the Saint, the Queen of All (aka my boss) and Fargo (the lone boy in our group of misfits). We talk about how it's going, what we're working on and any complaints or awesome stuff that's happened. Mostly.

Sometimes, we gossip. Sometimes.

Fargo: I wonder when S is supposed to be due?

(S is the head of our division)

The Saint & myself: S is pregnant?
Queen of All: <>

The Saint: Are you sure?

Fargo: Either she's pregnant, or she got really fat in one particular area. Seriously, she's either pregnant or it's time for Weight Watchers!

The Saint: -gasp-

(Can you tell who the nice one is in our group?)

The Saint: Have her boobs gotten any bigger?

(Being nice doesn't preclude you from asking the practical question.)

We all turn to Fargo, who gives us a blank stare in return that I take to mean, either he hasn't noticed, hasn't looked or doesn't want to admit that he has noticed or looked.

Queen of All: Well, she did just get married not that long ago. She had 1200 people at her wedding.

Me: I guess it's possible she got married and just decided to let herself go. I don't know how you can tell she's got a belly. She's always wearing a sari when I see her lately.

Fargo: Well yeah, if she's pregnant she's going to be wearing looser clothes.

Queen of All: Yeah, but I saw her bend over last week. If you're pregnant and you bend over, you can't just bend in half. The baby doesn't bend, right?

We all look to the Saint, since she's the only one of us who has been pregnant.

The Saint: Well, the baby doesn't really bend.

Me: Well I can't say really, I've never had the occasion to see S bend over and I don't know that I would have noticed if she had.

Fargo: I see S a lot. I'll have to pay attention if she bends over.

Me: Really? You're going follow S around and watch if she bends over?

The rest of us starting laughing hysterically while Fargo turned bright red and stammered that that was not what he meant AT ALL for a few minutes.

Later that day, I was at the gym and I was kind of in a pissy mood for no particular reason. I randomly thought about Fargo following S around waiting for her to bend over and I laughed. Out loud. At the gym.

It's possible that the people there think I'm insane now, laughing to myself (if they didn't already), but what do they know?

I've got a new bunny.

Father's Day

I bought my grandfather, Poppie, a Father's Day card. It's very pretty and brown. It looks handmade with fancy paper and a ribbon on the front. It says "Love You, Grandpa" on the front.

It's too bad that I'm greeting card illiterate, otherwise I might have read the inscription before I bought it. It says:

You're a wonderful person grandfather,

a great person, 

and an inspiration to the family. 

Happy Father's Day

Just in case he didn't know it before, he's a wonderful person AND a great person. In a comma delimited list TOGETHER. 

Sigh.

I know he probably won't even notice. He's a sweet, darling man who will just be glad I sent him a card, but still, I would rather send him a card that didn't read like a raging, insipid moron wrote it. 

I guess most greeting cards sound that way anyway, so I probably didn't really move that far down the greeting card food chain. 

Rhyming

The husband and I were watching Best Week Ever on VH1 this morning. They were talking about the controversy between Perez Hilton and Miss California. 

According to Best Week Ever, Perez called Miss California "the C-word."

The husband turns to me and says, "The C-word? Does the 'c-word' rhyme with cunt?"

Yes. Yes, husband, the c-word does indeed rhyme with cunt.

He followed that with, "Oops. I meant 'punt.'"

Yes. On both accounts.

ETA: When I read this blog to the husband he said, "I said 'bunt', not 'punt'. Bunt. Bunt. Punt isn't even a word." 

Thank God he's pretty.

Fraud!

You think you know somebody! 

We've been planning a weekend to go see APT with the family this summer. I bought the tickets and the parental units were working on getting some hotel rooms in Spring Green. 

So, I was calling my dad and getting e-mails from my stepmother going back and forth about what to do when I got this email from my darling, sweet stepmother:

Nevermind. I took a chance and called APT pretending to be you. They took care of me. 

Wait. What?

You pretended to be me?

Wow. That's not a sentence I ever thought I'd read anywhere. Ever.

In the end, it really all worked out in the end as we were able to get the hotel rooms we wanted, but still... kind of disturbing.

What does your birthday month say about you?

According to Facebook my birthday month says that I am,

Fun to be with. Secretive. Difficult to fathom and to be understood. Quiet unless excited or tensed. Takes pride in oneself. Has reputation. Easily consoled. Honest. Concerned about people's feelings. Tactful. Friendly. Approachable. Emotional temperamental and unpredictable.
Moody and easily hurt. Witty and sparkly. Not revengeful. Forgiving but never forgets. Dislikes
nonsensical and unnecessary things. Guides others physically and mentally. Sensitive and forms impressions carefully. Caring and loving. Treats others equally. Strong sense of sympathy. Wary and sharp. Judges people through observations. Hardworking. No difficulties in studying

Legend
True, so true
I like to think so.
I suppose we could pretend, but in reality, not even a little
Um, maybe?
What the fuck?

Seriously, a reputation for what?
Being awesome?
Well, that's okay then.

Apropos of Nothing

I came across this quote today and it made me laugh.

"It's like I always tell my sister: Sometimes slutty is good, because boys are dumb."

Blasphemous

On a scale of 1 - 10, how blasphemous do you think it would be to flick someone with holy water?

I ask because when we were at the mission at San Jose, I flicked mr. blume with holy water. 

What?

I wanted to see if he would sizzle or burn, like in the movies, in case he's secretly a vampire or other assorted demon spawn. Turns out, no.

Either movies lie/exaggerate, or mr. blume's just a dude. Not sure which. 

I crossed myself with the holy water left on my fingers after flicking him, do you think that cancels out the blasphemy?

On second thought, maybe it wasn't blasphemous. Maybe I just baptized him. 

Bunnies

I've been working like crazy lately, and all has not been sunshine and giggles.
People, equipment, time lines and poor decision making has been making me all kinds of crazy... even more than usual.

As some of you know, I test software for a living. So, I was testing to make sure we could print out images correctly today and this was one of the images I used:

I have no idea why, but it makes me want to laugh every time I look at it.

So, as it turns out, the difference between a day where I want to maim everyone that comes in a 5 ft radius of me and a day when I don't, is a bunny eating a cookie.

Seriously though, it's kind of adorable, right?
Just me?
I'm okay with that.

You Know It's Bad When

Things have been kind of crazy at work lately. They dropped a last minute project on our laps, in addition to our regular workload all due next Thursday. Boo.

The Saint is my counterpart in this crazy mess. She is one of the nicest people I have ever known and very quiet. She usually cajoles the developers into doing what she wants with a sweet little smile. 

So, this dude emailed me a question he should have known the answer to. In general, I'm all for people asking questions and I'm not one to judge people for not knowing something if they have an interest in learning. However, this dude teaches other people how to use the specific part of the software that the Saint and I work on. He should have known the answer. 

I showed the Saint the email without saying anything about it. (Note: We often sanity check one another before responding to other people)

Her response? 

"I can't believe he sent you this. Jackass."

I don't know if you had to be there and know the Saint to know how fucking awesome that is. I've never heard her curse before. It totally made my day.

Maybe I should be worried. I might be rubbing off on the Saint.