Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Lunch Meetings and Why I Hate Them

There is nothing I hate more than lunch meetings. Why do I hate lunch meetings? Because they suck. *whine* Lunch time is time for a break. You may even call your lunch "time" your lunch "break". I certainly do.

I'm not a doctor or a lawyer or a CEO or even a VP. Do you know what this means? This means I get a lunch break. Not a lunch where I have to continue being in a meeting. Just because there is food present doesn't mean it's less of a meeting. I'm still meeting. Now I'm just meeting with fries. Which are delicious, I will admit. And my lunch gets paid for. Which is quite nice, I'll admit.

But still, not worth it. I would rather pay $7 for my own shitty sub (and no fries!) made with potentially tainted meats while eating in a grubby uncomfortable booth next to a smelly "residentially challenged" man.

I need a break!! Yes, I had a lunch. But I did not have the aforementioned "break".


yes, this is the most interesting thing I have to write about. back off!

Wednesday, August 06, 2008

Growing Up

I guess I won't really start hyperventilating until tomorrow. Because we have to fill out a bunch of paperwork before the offer actually goes in. But I have started the process of making the most expensive purchase of my life.


I'm not sure if I'm ready for this. I'm not sure I'm grown up enough to be a home owner. what if something goes wrong? I can't fix things. Once I pay for the house will I have enough money to pay people to fix things?


Do I know how to best lay out furniture in a narrow living room? Can I deal with really tall pine trees in my front yard? If I don't like said tall pine trees what do I do about them? Can you make trees go away? Are there tree guys who deal with that shit? Do things grow under pine trees? Can I plant shade plants in pots?


I'm turning 30.

I think I'll start hyperventilating now.

Saturday, August 02, 2008

You Think You Know Someone

So at book club this week while discussing the immortal genius that is Dave Eggers we sidelined into a disucssion about how well you really know people. Kathleen held the position (to which most agreed) that perhaps you never really know another person. I agreed at the time but was musing over this statement later. And ultimately I decided that it was untrue. Because, I decided, I know my spouse.

And not just in the biblical sense. zing!

But seriously. I know what he likes/doesn't like. I can predict how he'll react to stimulus (and not just in the biblical sense!). I can tell when his mood shifts. I know the activities most likely to draw him out of a funk or draw him deeper into a funk when he really just wants to funk. (and not just...no? I thought the third time might be the charm. ok then.)

Dreams, desires, goals, ambitions, irritants, preferences. Past, present, future. I know this man.

And then he told me he didn't like the song Brown Eyed Girl by Van Morrison.

So I guess you're right after all Kathleen. You can never really know someone else.