Signs

The telltale sign that it's been too long since I blogged is forgetting the password to this account. Whoops.

Speaking of signs, I've noticed a few things lately that I'm struggling to understand. Call them signs. Call them oddities. Call them too-much-time-on-my-hands. Call them whatever the hell you want, but they are weird.  Here's a short list:

• Middle aged men with braces. Really?
• Glove sneakers. Can it possibly be comfortable to wear those rubber soles between your toes? And what happens when you step on a rock or a shard of broken glass?  I cannot be convinced that technology has advanced to the point of rubber being that strong. I rode the elevator into work this morning with a dude in a suit wearing bright blue glove-sneakers. Head scratcher.
• The FBI, CIA or someone weird following me. I met a guy today that I ran into 3 more times in the course of the subsequent few hours. I left my building for lunch (a completely random occurrence) and followed the same man back and forth on my break, which included a one hour sit down in between. Could this be a coincidence? I think not.
• Strictly cheese dinners. Some lady walked by my office, announced she was going in for surgery tomorrow, and offered to unload her snacks from the work fridge so they don't get bad on her leave. Hmph. I noticed that it's 7:30pm and there is no end in sight for this work day, so why the hell not. Before I knew it there was a pile of cheese on my desk and a few carrot sticks serving as garnish. It took 20 minutes to figure out if I was supposed to eat or not eat the red peel on the Babybel. Not eat. I finally figured it out. Now I'm enjoying some small curd cottage cheese. My stomach is going to be angry tomorrow.
• Texas. I was obsessed with the saying "Don't Mess with Texas" for years. That ended Tuesday when Ca major media outlet said they were #1 for business and we were not. After a bitter pity party, I took to Twitter and wound up second only to Iowa in an online popularity contest. At this moment, I swear I will never say DMwT and smile at the same time again. Not even in my head. And if I have to be behind someone, I'm a little bit okay being behind Iowa. It's a smaller, quieter shadow.
• God damn hackers. I learned tonight that some silly group hacked into Yahoo and now I have to change my password and all sorts of other inconvenient junk. I mean, really. If you want to steal, start somewhere more lucrative than my Yahoo account. People who still use Yahoo - I am slightly relieved to learn I'm not the only one left, BTW - are not the type to have boatloads of offshore accounts full of endless streams of cash. We're old, technologically challenged and too lazy to switch. All this means we're probably broke too. There has got to be some pool of more-likely-to-be-rich-folk on gmail or something. Leave us Yahooians alone. Jesus.

Follow me @ADayinHeels if you actually have an interest in the types of silliness that I share on this blog. Otherwise, you will be waiting until August when I will have time to blog again (at least in theory).

Goodnight!

Rocky Start for a Monday

It's been a rocky start to my Monday morning. When I left my house, and it was 79 and sunny which made my bright orange & white tank dress and no jacket perfectly appropriate for work. By the time I got to my office building, it was 70-and-dropping with dark skies. Now it looks like Tropical Storm Debby has taken a new route directly into my view of the Charles River (see pic below).

 I am now freezing and completely under dressed. Dammit.

Another bad sign for the week? I made the first walk of the week down the long, echoing hallway to my office suite with my eyes closed. Trust me, those few extra seconds of pretend-sleep were really necessary this morning.  Between the closed eyes, wobbly walking and construction-cone-orange dress, I'm certain that some folks around here think I'm still drunk from the weekend. Oh....if they only knew. Drunk on paint fumes maybe (another post for another time).

What do I find when I get to my office?  A giant interoffice envelope in the mailbox on my door. I think, "terrrr-ific...all of this work is waiting right here at my doorstep. Awesome."  Then I look to see who it's from..."F. Word." Serious? Who did I tick off last week?  I start mentally flipping through the names and realize the list is too long to remember, but no one this brazen really sticks out so I give it another look. Ohhhhhh. It says "F. Wood". tee hee. I suppose that makes sense. No one actually thinks "F-Word" other than me. Most normal people just stick with F&$@!

On the upside, the envelope contained the front page of a daily newspaper with above-the-fold print coverage of a recent event that I attended. I'm glad to report that my hair looks good and I might even look skinny. NOTE: Remember to wear that suit more often!

Well, I must now take cover and wait for Tropical Storm Debby and the Supreme Court's health care ruling. Big day.

Sales, Generics & Floss

I'm a sucker for a deal. Slap a bright orange price sticker on something and I'll buy it. I get a thrill out of visiting an Ocean State Job Lot. And the outlet stores are to die for! I once bought a pair of designer 4 inch lavender heels with pink straps because they were 50% off. I wore them once, was likened to an Easter egg, and still pat myself on the back for the Big Find. Needless to say, if I'm convinced that I'm saving a few bucks, it doesn't matter what the item is or if I'll ever use it: SOLD.

I have a well document attraction to saving a few bucks and now that I'm responsible for our family grocery shopping, I have even more reason to cut costs. I'd really like a new kitchen, upgraded wedding bands, new landscaping, a Lexus, and lots of other shiny, expensive things.  This is an itty bitty incentive to cut grocery bills. Coupons are out of the question. But what about generics?

My mom believes that Hellman's is mayo and the other stuff is just a "fake." She (quite literally) turns people away from family parties if they are carrying a potato salad with the "fake stuff". I hate to say that I have a little bit of that product snobbery in me too. But from time to time, I'll sneak a generic product into the grocery cart to see if anyone notices. By anyone I mean me. And of course I'll notice. But I've built up a fantasy in my head that I have to hide this from Husband because he's so picky and that couldn't be farther from the truth. Husband would eat bird sh** if it landed on a cracker.  The truth is...it's all about me. Duh.

I'm learning that most generic products are exactly the same as the name brands, but the ones that aren't...really aren't even close. I've learned the hard way about a few of these things, and it feels like a civic duty to share. So here goes:

• Dental floss. The generic store-brand was 1/2 the cost of the smooth, silky floss that I'm used to using. I thought "how different could it be?" and wow did I find out. The generic is like flossing with a used guitar string that was used at Woodstock and was lost in the mud for 3 decades. Ouch. Pony up the $1.50 for the good stuff.
• Face cream.  While I don't need to spend hundreds of dollars on fancy European or naturally grown concoctions, I would rather not wake up looking like pubescent teenager in need of Proactiv. One look at me will teach anyone a lesson. Splurge on an extra $10 bucks for a recognizable brand. 
• Toothpaste.  Nothing says "you're cheap" more than bad breath.  There's something about generic toothpaste that not only tastes bad but leaves you with a sour taste all day.
• Shampoo. Dry, dull, flat, icky hair. That's all I need to say.
• Mayo. Hellman's is where it's at...

The dental floss is really so offensive that I can't even look at it without getting mad. It's actually caused me to floss more often just to get rid of the darn stuff. Don't do it, people. DON'T. DO. IT.