Boredom is when...you blog about your calves

I was bored at work...and I was flexing my calves.  Yes.  You read that right.  

I then noticed...my left calf muscle is WAY bigger and firmer than my right one.  I am not just talking slight differences here, people.  No. I am talking more like my left calf muscle could run a marathon and my right one might have trouble getting off the couch to get more potato chips.  

Naturally, I wondered how this had happened.  My only explanation is that when I did ballet I only would do the "one-legged twirl/stand/french words I can't pronounce or spell" on my left leg.  Hence, my left calf is a close cousin of Arnold Schwarzenegger's calves.  Yes.  My left calve muscle is directly related to our governor's calve muscles.  

Several thoughts are now racing through my mind.  

1. If cannibals ever capture me - my left leg will surely be the coveted prize of the tribe, while my right leg will be tossed to the dogs.  

2. If I ever had to roundhouse kick a "bad guy," I am going to use my left.  I hope.  If i can remember all of this valuable information.  

3. If I ever hope to become a "leg model," once again, my left calf is my only option.  I will only be able to model left-foot shoes.  

These are strange things to ponder.  I hope you guys have more exciting lives and don't have time to notice these things.  

All my friends call me Muggsie

I want you to know that the California budget crisis is over.  I have fixed it.  We no longer have a deficit. Public school classrooms can buy more books, roads can be repaired, prisoners can get better meals, grandparents can get social security.  It's all thanks to me and my criminal activities. Yes, I am that philanthropic.  I think I deserve a museum...or at least a statue.

I normally am a very generous person, if you don't mind me boasting (no one said anything about me being humble too).  I give money to lots of people.  However, up until about a month ago, none of my generosity had been voluntarily given to the government.   I figured, eh my taxes should be enough.  Recently however, the LAPD decided that my givings needed to increase. 

Before the following events occurred, I had one thing going for me - I had never been pulled over by a cop.  Ever.  In fact, I was very proud of this. I even tried to work that into normal conversations.  "Oh hey, we are all out of coffee, and I have never been pulled over."   Introductions used to consist of me saying, "Hey, my name is Emily, and I am a perfect driver."

I won't go into the gory details. It's just too painful.  Let's just say that about a month ago, I got pulled over for speeding.  There were tears. There was grinding and gnashing of teeth.  There was much ratiionalization..  "I was going downhill.  The speed limit changed for no reason!  My brakes are bad!  I was ministering to a fellow brother in Christ (aka talking to my friend in the passenger seat)!  My speedometer hasn't been calibrated!"  .

Eventually, I got over it.  I figured, for all the times I haven't been caught, I guess I can pay this one.

I tell ya, I didn't speed once during the last month.  I was so good.  If the speed limit was 40, I was going 39.9 mph.  My guardian angel was putting on weight just from lack of exercise.  I let people cut me off on the freeway. I drove behind slow trucks.  I kept my hands at 10 and 2.  I turned down the music. I was being featured in a Powerpoint show at a Guardian angel training seminar named, "Reformed drivers, Changed Hearts and Better Gas Mileage."   Speed demons were being laid off due to lowered productivity.

Life was good....until......

Last week, I was driving to the train station to go to work. There was a construction zone.   The sun was in my eyes. My windshield was dirty.  I was distracted by the construction crew. I didn't see the signs posted.

As I turned left into the station, I got waved down by a cop.   Apparently, There was a "No turning left during construction" policy.   He promptly wrote me out a ticket.   Bam.

I would go into my rant right here how it was unfair and it's just stupid and they just want my money and the cop did the "pull over" in a dangerous manner and I was late to work and how life sucks and "two tickets....seriously??? Really??? Com'mon!!!"

But I won't.  I don't believe in complaining.

So.  Now I am going to have to get a tattoo and take up weightlifting.  I am a "criminal" now, and that's what we do.  Just call me Muggsie.  However, thanks to me, California has more money to spend on things they don't need.  I did you a favor.  If you have a government college scholarship or if you get social security - I funded that.

My brick kitten with an antenna (i.e. My temporary cell phone)

My cell phone broke. In the olden days, waiting to hear from a friend for a couple days would be no big deal. People could call my home phone. They could write me a nice letter. They might send me a "speedy" telegram. Maybe they would stop by and have have a tall glass of iced tea with me and "chew the fat."

But it's not the olden days. I don't ride a horse to work. I don't know how to use a typewriter. I don't know how to wear a corset. I look stupid with my hair in a bun.

I need my texting, my facebooking, my blogging. I send about sixty texts a day. There is no way I can wait the estimated two weeks for my new phone to get here so I communicate with all my friends again. (Yes, I am getting the Droid X as soon as it gets shipped :)

There was only one thing to do. Use my mom's ancient, antique phone as a temporary mobile device.

Note: This is the phone that Abraham Lincoln used to text his generals war instructions. Abraham took pictures of his top hat collection to send a pic message to his Cousin Mo in the south. Christopher Columbus used this phone to update his facebook status to, "I can't find the freaking land, crewmates hate me, I am going to go drink beer. lol."

This phone was the newest and greatest back in the day. Why? Because it has a camera on the front!! I mean who can think of a more awesome thing to put on a phone than that?!?! There is no way that humans can invent something more awesome than this "camera phone." Oh and get this....it flips too!!! I mean I can flip it open like a cool person, and take a pic of my cat. Crazy.

Granted this phone is the size of a small brick. I could use it to stone a small person. (Not that I would of course....and that is just a morbid thought, but i am trying to think of other useful things to do with this phone.) When Jesus challenged the Pharisees to throw the first stone at that woman...I am pretty sure he was gesturing to a pile of these brick flip phones. However, This brick also has a bonus feature....an extendable antenna. Don't get good signal?? Try raising the metal antenna two more inches!!! Wow, WAYYYYY better service now!!!

Texting on this phone is like trying to send a smoke signal - slow and rather iffy when it comes to interpretation. You have to hunt for all the letters, and there is no indication for where the punctuation keys are. Consequently, I have to send the worst written sentences in history. What if I have to tell someone about a dog I saw, "Having been squashed by a truck the dog ate a half eaten hamburger" Or about my grandma killing a spider "Already dead my grandma flushed the spider down the toilet" Yeah.... if you get a text from me in the next couple weeks, I did actually go to college, I just have to type on a brick with an antenna, give me some grace.

I think the main reason I hate this phone is because it made me late to work yesterday. I set the alarm for 6:30 a.m. I checked it twice to make sure i set it correctly. I did. One problem. I set the alarm to be on vibrate. Now on my old phone, the "vibrate" setting was enough to awaken me with the thoughts of "AHHHH there is an earthquake!!! It's the big one!!"

Not this phone. Nope. The vibrate on this phone is that of the soft purr of a two-week-old kitten. And it only purrs twice. Quietly. Like that of a two-week-old kitten who is purring after drinking a whole bowl of warm milk. Yeah, I woke up three hours after I was supposed to be at work.

Stupid kitten.

My Superhero: Sam and his pants

I love my friends. They do crazy things for me.

As I mentioned in my last post, I visited San Francisco this last weekend, mostly to see one of my friends who is living up there this summer. On my last day, we had gone into the city for lunch and a movie.

This is where my day got just a little more awesome.

At this point, I need to introduce you to my friend. Let's call him....Sam. Sam is well...very particular. Before going to the movies, we had gone to a very nice bar and I had ordered a Long Island Iced Tea.

Nothing wrong with that.

However, as anyone who drinks alcohol can attest...it can, well...make you pee. I mentioned this fact to Sam, and he became very concerned and rather obsessed about my pee schedule. He didn't want me getting up during the movie. That would ruin it, and apparently I would not be able to follow the plot at all if I missed the three minutes needed to, well...do my business.

So. Sam made us go to a later movie time. He made me walk around. He tried to calculate how long it would take me to pee, and how many times I would need to pee after drinking about 12 ounces of alcohol. When we did go into the theater, I was allowed to pee just one more time before the movie. I did make it through the entire movie with no, uh...nature calls. Sam was very proud of me.

All that to say...because of the later movie time, we were starting to run out of time to get back to Berkeley, grab my suitcase, and BART back into San Francisco in time for me to catch my Greyhound bus back to Los Angeles.

Sam had an idea. Sometimes, when Sam has an idea...it scares me. It usually involves things that make no sense and make me slightly nervous. However, Sam is very persuasive and usually uses big words and things called "logic", and he can win pretty much any argument. This idea involved me waiting in the BART station, while Sam RAN as fast as Sam could run back to his apartment, grab my suitcase, and book it back to the station to catch the next subway back to San Francisco - which was in exactly 7 minutes.

Poof. Sam took off. I waited. Five minutes. No Sam. Six minutes. No Sam. I felt the breeze of the incoming Subway. No Sam. I sighed. There was no way Sam could have pulled it off anyways. I knew that my doubts had been right, Sam's "logic" was off. However, what I saw next...okay, it was pretty impressive. I saw a flash of my suitcase and Sam flying down the stairs to the loading dock JUST as the subway pulled in. He ran into the subway cab with me at his heels.

At this point, I need to add another detail about Sam. Sam has one pair of jeans that he wears all the time. Because of the San Francisco "walk-everywhere-you-go" mentality, Sam's jeans had become really, really loose. He had to keep hitching them up as we "touristed."

Loose jeans are not proper running attire.

After Sam and I got on the SF-bound subway and sat down, he informed me that during his sprint to his apartment, his pants fell down. In front of a gelato shop. On a busy Berkeley street.

I have never laughed as hard as I did after hearing that. Sam. You are my hero. You literally ran your pants off just to grab my suitcase for me to get me back home.

I have the best friends. They care about me more than their pants.

In appreciation, I should buy him a belt.

I left my cell phone signal in San Francisco

Have you ever met a Cookie? I have.

This last weekend, I took a bus trip up to San Francisco. It was my first time to take a Greyhound bus and I found out one thing....I haven't been missing anything. If you enjoy being cramped in a small, confined space for eight hours at a time, smelling the B.O. of the person sitting next you - Greyhound is for you. If being a captive audience to the ramblings of a sweet little lady named, "Cookie" appeals to you- Greyhound is for you.

Allow me to introduce you to my friend, Cookie. Cookie loves to eat. Cookie loves dorritos that make her breath smell of powered, process cheese and garlic. Cookie has two dogs, LuLu and Striker. Cookie used to have a dog that climbed trees, but that dog got arthritis and couldn't get down one day. That stupid dog kept trying to climb the tree, regardless of it's old age. It eventually got run over by a truck....twice.

Cookie works at a school as both a custodian and supervisor. Cookie works long hours. Cookie has diabetes. Cookie loves her family, that's why she is on this bus - she is going to a family reunion. Cookie loves interior decorating and must show me the five different ways that she plans on decorating her bedroom/kitchen/bathroom/dining room. Cookie is getting a treadmill to put in the dining room, because they don't eat in there any more - Cookie wants to lose weight.

Cookie needed a headrest for her head so she could sleep. Cookie borrowed my sweatshirt for the rest of the trip. But she didn't nap. She kept talking. She eventually sat on my sweatshirt. It's now my cookie sweatshirt.

I really did love Cookie. She just talked. A lot.

My trip to San Francisco was amazing. I hit nearly every tourist trap in San Fran, and only bought one souvenior. Success. I ate at awesome restaurants and drank at some sweet bars. Best part of San Fran? The Bart. Why? Because I got to travel under the Bay and listen to bums talk. At one point, a man got on with a boom box that was blaring rap music. Party on the Subway!!!

I wish I could take a picture of San Francisco the way I saw it. The homelessness and dirtyness were a little overwhelming - I wanted to help all the bums. But at the same time, I just wanted to see the fun side of San Francisco.

On my last day there, my cell phone died. It couldn't get a signal. I think that San Francisco overwhelmed my phone. It couldn't handle the excitement. I left my cell phone's "soul" in San Fran. Now I can get my Droid X. Thank you, San Francisco, for encouraging me to get a better phone. I'll come visit you again when I need a new laptop.

Memos and working hard....or hardly working: The Double Feature

I have violated the cardnal rule of blogging: frequent updates. I have failed all five of my readers. I am sorry. To show repentance, I am writing a double feature.

Blog post that should have been posted last week: The Coffee Memo

There are two kinds of people: people who care about stupid things and must make the biggest deal about said insignificant stupidity and people who blog about those people. Being the blogger, I just wait for people to flip out over things that are about as important as a week-old newspaper. Fortunately, I never have to wait long.

Last Friday, someone at work snapped emotionally and decided to declare to the world through masking tape messages how they felt. I wish I had taken a picture, but here is where my writing skills will be put to the test. Allow me to describe what happened.

We have a "fancy" coffee pot at work. Instead of having to brew a six-cup pot of coffee and forcing all 15 people in my office to drink the same kind of coffee, management bought a nifty coffee machine. This coffee machine brews individual cups of coffee. A person merely chooses the kind of roast/flavor they like and inserts the single serving "pod" at the top. About two minutes later - bam, their customized brew is ready to go. Awesome, right? (because really, forcing people to drink the same kind of coffee should be against the Geneva Convention - I might have to work with these people but I shouldn't have to like their coffee too!!!! But I digress....)

However. This is where people become passionate activists. After making coffee, there is a 5 second procedure commonly known as "removing-your-pod-of-used-grounds-before-leaving-the-coffee-station." The trash can is about 4 feet from the coffee pot and this task should be relatively simple. But hey, we are paid to work, not throw away coffee pods!!!

I confess - I have been known to leave my coffee pod in. I'm sorry. I was too wrapped up in the debate of whose weekend was more fun to remember to take out my favorite Kenyan Bold AA pod.

Apparently, this "unact" of leaving in coffee pods kept ruining someone's day. They were tired of being people's maids. So they wrote a memo....on masking tape.....on the coffee machine.

Because masking tape was not exactly designed for business memos the message was chopped up on about ten different strips.....that ryhmed. The message itself made absolutely no sense, and the only part I can remember distinctly was and I quote, "He who wills it, kills it." I have no idea what that has to do with coffee pods....but I got the message.

The rest was sort of broke up like this:
Strip of tape #1: Whoever keeps leaving pods
Strip of tape #2: Must know that I don't nods
Strip of tape # 3: Because I have to pick up after you.
Strip of tape # 4: Use the coffee but don't make me blue
Strip of tape #5: Because everyone uses coffee not just you.
Strip of tape $ 6: He who wills it, kills it. (once again I have no idea how that related to the whole "coffee conundrum")

I wish that they had taught "Masking Tape Memo-writing" in business school, I think it's a very effective means of communication. I have mended my ways, I no long leave my "pods" in the machine. Lesson learned. Masking tape memo: 1 Me: 0.

Blog post for this week: "Working Hard or hardly working"

I worked the hardest I have ever worked in my life today...pretending to work. Now, to any future/present employers who I am sure read my blogs regularly - allow me to defend myself: I am a very hard worker. I love being so busy and working on so many projects that the day flies by. I like to take pride in my work and I enjoy feeling accomplished as my head hits the pillow every night.

There. That was my disclaimer so I won't get fired. Moving on.

The hard part was - there was absolutely NO work today. I sat at my desk and pretended to work. I even went to my manager and confessed the lack of work that I had, and I was instructed to go back to my desk and "look busy."

The problem is...I work at the most visible desk in the office. So...I can't just goof around, I have to look busy.

So. I watched shark attack videos for 2 hours, I read every news article published today on CNN, LA Times, NY Times, Tech Report, I looked up the next smartphone I want, and I watch a lion hug a human (on Youtube, not in the office). As a counter-being-fired measure, I created a word document to write random sentences in. If the owner of the company walked by....I keyed up that document and wrote stuff like, "....and therefore sales should be expected to increase by 56 percent if we continue to streamline the economics of the quicksanded supply and demand of the target market."

It worked. No one got mad at me all day. But man, I worked hard. I ran out of shark clips, news articles, and random sentences to type by about 3 - and I was told to stay until at least 4. So....I had to entertain myself for an entire hour - after already exhausting the internet. It was hard work being that bored.

What do you guys do when you get bored at work? I need suggestions for tomorrow.