Trick or treatin’

A cross check gone bad...

Curious, but not really

After reading about the deep water rescue of the two young adults who fell off a Princess cruise ship yesterday, I have to wonder if I am the only who’s come to the most natural conclusion as to how it happened.

Apparently they fell 50-60 feet off a cabin balcony and “cruise line officials are trying to figure out how [the] two passengers managed to fall…into the Gulf of Mexico” (CNN).  Um. They are what, 20 and 22 years old?  On a cruise.  Hanging out on on a balcony.  Doesn’t anyone else think that they were doing it and perhaps got a little carried away?  I mean, c’mon! How else to you fall off a cruise ship?

In other non-news, I am wondering if it’s just general malaise, cabin fever, sickness residue, wanting to clean house or if I am actually “done”…

I wonder if they found what they were looking for…

Search string bringing some lost soul to Baby Bananas today:

“what does it mean cash on the nightstand“

Modern technology has done it again!

Ok, so I’ve heard about this new fangled product that can cook food in mere seconds. Seconds! It’s called a microwave oven and apparently, by some sort of elfin magic, it will cook your food in a fraction of the time it would take to cook it on the stove. Or over fire in my case, since apparently I live in the Dark Ages for not owning one of these wonderful, oh-so-modern products.

I am not against them or anything, I actually used to have a microwave. It’s been well over two years since that time, but I have had one (or access to one) for most of my life (yes, I am old enough to remember the time when we got our very first microwave…I think I was 7 or 8 and it had a rotary dial). But it’s not like I am against them on principle or anything. When I moved out of my rented apartment, I purged all of the things that were not fabulous. For I knew that I would soon be moving into a mortgaged condo, and who wants to bring non-fabulousness into your very own, grown-up abode? So the microwave? Not so fabulous. It was old, large (I mean it was practically as big as my oven, my real oven) and left by the ex when he made his quick exodus from my life. So it was donated to a church. Or perhaps it was left on a church’s doorstep like an abandoned baby…but I was desperate to get rid of it and not waste it’s magical powers by tossing it in a dumpster. I had intentions of getting a cute, little microwave. Perhaps one in a funky color or one that toasts bagels and brews coffee at the same time as nuking your food. But when the time came (and when I saw the quaintness of my kitchen), I decided it was not a necessary part of life. Well, my life anyway.

But Marci, how do you boil water?
Well, I have both a tea kettle and a sauce pan. When water is added and the receptacle is placed over heat, the water will boil.

But Marci, how do you re-heat leftovers?
I’ve found that pan-fried (or broiled) leftovers are pretty damned good and actually quite suited to my taste of over cooked food. And surprisingly, it really doesn’t take that long.

But Marci, how do you make those frozen meals?
Simple, I don’t eat frozen meals. I am not fan, so this one is easy.

But Marci, how do you make popcorn?
Ah. Now see, this is the one kicker, the only time that I have ever wished for a microwave is during times of popcorn cravings. I do make popcorn. But I make it in a sauce pan. I pour loose kernels into a pan and stand there over the heat and shake shake shake it until it pops. It’s good. Waaaay better than microwave popcorn, but it is annoying to stand there and wait for those hard little kernels to heat up and release their fluffy goodness.

Will I ever get a microwave? It’s possible. I don’t think I will buy one anytime soon. But if/when I remodel my kitchen I am sure one of these modern marvels will be part of the plans. I’ll let you know if my life changes.

Typing is hard

Today’s Typos, a Look Back…

Memember dies
(Member dues)

Trade shoe
(Trade show)

Lung ron
(Long run)

We tried ruining the credit card number
(we tried running the credit card number)

Best retards,
Baby Banana

(Best regards,
Baby Banana)
…yes I typed “retards”. And no, I am not telling you if I actually sent it out like that or not. (or “now” or “nor” as just typed instead of “not”. God. Get me off the freakin’ keyboard.)

I had always wanted a big brother

but not like this.

Damn.

I Google, therefore I date?

So I was Googled, found and subsequently asked out on a date. I am not freaked out, I am flattered and I am going. How do you like them apples?

In our conversing, Google Dater brought up an interesting question. He asked simply, “Did you realize that I was into you [on either of the two occasions we had met]?”. Honestly? No, I hadn’t. He claimed he was flirting unmercifully. Hmm. I had just chalked it up to friendly banter. Now, I admit that I am generally an idiot about such things, but how much flirt potential am I missing out on here? Are there gaggles of potential Google suitors? All kidding aside, is my Flirt-O-Meter broken? If so, how do I fix it?

Clippy is mocking me

He rolled his eyes at me today. WTF? I still hate him.

Although I learned today that his name is Clippit, not Clippy. But I don’t care.

Take this job and shove it

My office is pretty small and we are a fairly close-knit group. There are VERY few people that I have a problem with and for the most part we all get along really well. The core of us really like to joke around with each other and sometimes (what some may deem) inappropriate jokes fly abound. No one takes it personally and it all gets dished back and life is good.

Cut to today’s lunchroom gab-fest.

I pop my head in for a few to see what the topic is and it’s bouncing around between Katrina, the strawberry milkshakes at Potbelly, haircuts and how much they cost, how the word “bobs” in print looks just like the word “boobs” and isn’t that funny, haha! Then, in almost a surreal fashion a co-worker turns her head to me and in all seriousness says “So, Marci, why don’t you quit [company] and get a job with Hooters?”

Silence falls over the lunch crowd (all 7 of us).

There is laughter and staring. Them staring at me and me staring at her.

I mumble…”er…Hooters? Um…er…why?” I mean, I don’t make A LOT of money, but I do ok. And I can’t imagine that I would make nearly that amount or get any kind of benefits from a serving job. I mean, I loved it when I was in it but, that was college and this is now. And sure I am…ahem…semi well-endowed…but that is neither here nor there. Why is she seriously wondering why I am not working at Hooters?

“You know, they are just like advertising a lot and it’s supposed to be a good deal.”

The lone male in the group pipes up to add “My friend put herself through med-school working at Hooters.”

Thanks D-Mac, thanks for keeping the conversation alive.

Then one of the ladies shouts in *almost* mock-astonishment “Why would you ask her that and not ME?”

I never did find out what prompted her to come at me with that out of the blue (maybe all the talk of milkshakes and “bobs”), but damn it was pretty funny. And odd. Actually more odd that funny, even for this job.

Ok, input people…input

Got a call this morning at work. Someone asking about exhibit space. This is totally normal (as this is what I do). So his company is local and they do this and he wants to know about the attendees for the Chicago tradeshow and if the space sold out and … 20 minutes later I am still answering questions. Again, this is normal…especially for a new exhibitor that has never been to one of our conferences. So then he asks if I am sick and I am immediately embarrassed b/c I totally have the sniffles so bad right now — but it’s A/C sniffles — and I didn’t even realize that I had been all stuffy and sniffly on the phone with a potential exhibitor. So I tell him no, I am not sick it’s just some allergies or the air conditioning or something…sorry! He says no problem, I was just feeling sorry for you. More questions.

Exhibitor guy (EG): You guys are based here too?
Me: Uh huh, we are in DC.
EG: We’re in McLean, right across from Tysons II
Me: (bubbliness comes out…for three reasons: 1. We never have local exhibitors, they are always foreign, based in Chicago or NY. 2. I was JUST talking about Tysons II and 3. I am still embarrassed about being all snotty on the phone–literally) Oh cool, we are totally trying to do a happy hour at PF Changs next week!
EG: Oh Changs? Cool. How old are you?
Me:
Me: Uh…er…old?
EG: Really? You don’t sound…
Me: (now babbling b/c this is business and weird and huh?) Well old, it’s almost my birthday I’ll be 32.
EG: Oh so are you going to Changs for your birthday?
Me: Oh no, this spot called Palette downtown. Looks pretty nice. Very chi-chi, but it’s my birthday and I can do that.
EG: Nice! Have you been to Mate? (sounds like mah-Tay)
Me: Nope
EG: It’s getting a good buzz. It’s in G’town, near Sequoia’s
Me: On the waterfront?
EG: No under the bridge
Me: Ah, on the Chadwick’s side
EG: Maybe try it sometime. But thanks, you’ve been so helpful. If we have more questions…
Me: Just call or email me. L (the sales person) will be out of town until Monday.
EG: Thanks. Oh, have a good birthday!
Me: Thanks!

5 minutes later I get this:

What do I do?