Tuesday, March 30, 2010

A Heads Up Would Have Been Neat

I have never worked in a building with a parking garage. Dallas has very little use for them, in general.

My new schedule has me at the veeeeeeeeeeeeeeery last shift. I'm literally walking down the halls in the dark, waiting for elevators with the lobby illuminated only by the button I pressed to summon them, etc. There are security guards *everywhere* and *everything* is filmed, but it's still total creepsaucemcghee.com kind of shit.

Anyway, I'm trying to exit the parking garage. I go to my normal exit. Both East and West are gated, with huge imposing STOP signs posted across them covering the whole gate. I panic, back up, turn around, and go to another exit. This one is a one lane exit I have never used before, it goes up a hill and around an unknown corner. I swipe my badge to get out, turn the corner- another gate! EGADS I AM LE TRAPPED IN THE UNDERGROUND OH NOES! So, I try to back out, but the machine won't take my card. So I'm stuck between the little toll bridge divider and the gate of perceived impenetrability. Why "perceived" you ask? Oh, you know, because I freaked out, called my friend and co-worker Ryan, said "I'm trapped underground!!" then called the security guard, who calmly informed me "ma'am, if you just pull up reaaaaaaaaally close, it will automatically open".



Let me just say, for the record, it would have been nice to have been informed. I had a mini heart attack thinking of how stupid I was to get stuck, and instead, I was stupid for thinking I *was* stuck.



Ok. Good night. Oh, everything else with work is awesome. Other than unexpected and deceptively foreboding gates. Everything else.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

An Update

I'm finally done with training and will be starting my real schedule this Monday! My first week on the floor includes 5 hours of mandatory overtime because it's month end, but my hourly rate at time and a half makes me very, very happy so I'm ok with that :)

In other news I'm seriously considering trying this whole dumpster diving thing, as I live directly in between a Whole Foods and a Central Market, both about two blocks from me in opposite directions. I'll let you know if I step on a syringe and/or get stuck in a dumpster or arrested for trespassing.

Today I'm working out, taking a long shower, and then cashing in my massage gift certificate that has been waiting for me, patiently, since I received it...at Christmas. It's time.

Saturday, March 13, 2010


I had a birthday this past Tuesday, and I'm now 27. When I told the people in my training class I was turning 27, they all told me to shut up, no way, we thought you were going to be 24 or 25!

And this is how I know I'm not going to be good at this aging thing- I was *happy* that they thought I was significantly younger. What the hell?? I thought I was above all that weird age related culturally fostered female insecurity. Something to work on I suppose. I mean, I don't think people are middle aged until about 50, a lot of my friends are much older than me, yet when I think about myself, *I* feel old. Funny how that works.

So let's enjoy this picture of my cake. Vegan, fudgy chocolate cake and peanut butter cream frosting, both made from scratch with Puppy Bob. It was like a Reese's PB cup, but instead of tasting like chemical fakesplosion it tasted like awesomesauce birthday happiness.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Time Is on My Side Because I Picked it First in Gym Class

So, I just turned 27. Since I was 18, I've worked full time and gone to undergrad/grad school with the exception of a 2 year break between degrees when I only worked full time and lived in Japan.

I seriously have so much time on my hands *only* working full time. Full time work after full time work + school is like a vacation every day. It's like "oh, hmmm, let's see, today the only requirement of me is to work 8 hours with a few breaks and an hour lunch thrown into the mix". That's all. The end. Instead of work 8 hours and then go to two back to back once a week classes from 4 to 10 p.m., and then go to class two ADDITIONAL nights a week for three hours a pop, and then do homework and workout and go out on dates and get Obama elected and clip coupons and read the news every day.

Working is so easy. I can't wait to get out of training and get my real schedule so I can get a permanent weekly volunteer schedule down. I figure if I could spend 12 hours a week in class plus another 10+ studying I can give at least 10 hours a week to a worthy cause.

In conjunction with all of this, I'd like to take the time to say I don't have much sympathy for people without kids, married, single, or whatever, saying they don't have time to do X or take care of Y. No, you just don't choose to do X or take care of Y. Let's get real people. If you're working a regular ole' full time work week and you don't have kids or any other extenuating circumstances, you could be doing a lot more than you currently are. Just be honest and say "it's not important to me to work out/read the news/call my family/cook at home". Nothing wrong with different priorities! But don't act like it's a time issue. 'Cause it's not. It's a choice issue, and acting like you're not making choices just ensures that you'll continue to believe that you really don't have time to do something positive. When really you're spending that time elsewhere, say, writing rambly posts when you're tired and should be sleeping.

Speaking of sleeping, it's time to go to bed.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Newflower, I Love You

Newflower is my favorite grocery store for produce. Their weekly sales beat even Kroger and Wal-Mart, and that's often on *organic* produce. Basically I hit them up once a week, buy about 10 different fruits and veggies on sale, about 80% of which is organic, spend about $20, and I'm set for more than my 5 a day goal. I cook around the sales, so it's buy first, consult recipe books/make up shit on the fly later :)

Tonight was roasted baby red potatoes with garlic, sage, and rosemary; rainbow swiss chard sauteed with lemon juice, salt, pepper, and olive oil; asparagus pan fried in a homemade hollandaise type sauce of ginger soy dressing with vegenaise, and some wild rice. Note the eco-friendly cloth napkin and stainless steel bottle. I'm a stereotype. I'm ok with that. Dinner was awesome.

Don't Ask a Question if You Can't Handle the Answer

I don't understand how people can ask intrusive questions, preface or end those questions with insults/jokes about the topic at hand (something personal about yourself) and then when you give your opinion or reason as to doing/saying/thinking ________ that they aggressively questioned you on, they inevitably get pissed when you say something they don't agree with. A lot of times I don't even go in to it, because it's usually about my being a feminist, or a vegan, or a gay rights activist, or why I don't smoke/drink,or most superficially, about how I wear sunscreen every day and avoid tanning like the plague.

But you know what? Why am *I* the one being polite? They're the ones with all the questions and jokes, shouldn't I oblige them with an answer? I think so. Let's take the tanning example...

The next time someone pokes fun at me for how pale I am, tells me I look sickly, tells me I look like I never go outside, and then tells me I should get a tan/asks me why I don't tan, my answer will be this:

"I think we look most attractive the color we were born with, tanning is sold in our youth obsessed culture as being young and sexy when it actually ages you and gives you premature wrinkles, it can cause cancer, and, oh yeah, most people I know that use tanning beds or bake in the sun look like Oompa Loompa leather hand bags".

Here's the deal- don't ask someone a question, poke fun at them, and then get all affronted when they, you know, explain why they are the way they are and it happens to rub you the wrong way.