Now It's Just A Matter Of Principal

I refuse to join Facebook.

I think I’m the only person on the planet who doesn’t have an account. (I’m so lame…is “have an account” even the right Facebook lingo? I have no clue.)

First we had MySpace, the breeding ground for teenagers lying about their ages and the subject of many Dateline “To Catch A Predator” specials.

We have now progressed to Facebook, which I believe is Gen X’s way of keeping in touch and filling up an 8-hour work day.

(Normally I would now launch into my “Back when I was young” speech, about how the hell did people ever keep in touch before the invention of computers? I’ll tell you: they either saw each other at school or called each other on the phone. And these phones were not portable, you could not take them with you. They were attached to the wall. And had a rotary dial.)

But I digress.

So, back to Facebook and my ridiculous refusal to join/sign up/get an account/give in to the masses.

There’s a slight chance that I think Facebook is evil. That it is taking over the world. That it’s like a drug. (It’s a verb, for gosh sakes: “OMG, totally Facebook me later…byeeee!”)

EVERYONE I work with is on Facebook. And these people? Spend their entire day on Facebook. They are constantly updating, talking about who just posted photos, who they friended. One girl at work had to shut down her Facebook account because she wasn’t getting any work done. She sort of had a self-intervention.

My copywriter is constantly trying to wear me down and get me to join.

HER: “It’ll be fun! We can be friends!”

ME: “We already ARE friends. See, you’re standing in my office right now.”

HER: “I can Facebook you, and you can Facebook me.”

ME: “We already email each other all day long. What’s the difference?”

HER: “It is different. It’s much more fun!”

She already wore me down and I now use the company’s Instant Messaging system (was fighting that one, too...). And I like IMing. But it’s very addictive and it can take up lots of time during the day. Which is what I think would happen if I were on Facebook.

I have avoided Facebook for 3 reasons:

1. I don’t like the idea of putting my life online for the whole world to see (Yeah, I know. Call me ironic.). And I know that not everyone can see my profile and details, just the people who are my “friends”. But still.
2. It’s like setting myself up for failure. I can’t think of anyone who would want to look at 347 pictures I post of my dog Vito (except all of you lovelies, natch). So what Facebook is asking me to do is put myself out there, only to be ignored, ripping my self-confidence to shreds. No thanks.
3. I’m not sure I want people finding me. Not that I’m hiding from the law or anything, or have royally pissed off people in my past, but I don’t know that I want people having a very easy way of finding me. (This excuse doesn’t really hold up, since anyone with a computer and knowledge of Google can be knocking on my door in 15 minutes. Also, I have a LinkedIn profile. ((Which I created strictly to help me network and find a new job))) Okay, this excuse doesn’t count.

But, in reality, I feel like I’m too old for Facebook. Technology scares the crap out of me (probably why there’s no special bells and whistles on my blog – I’m lucky I even HAVE a blog, for that matter; or why I don’t “follow” blogs – I want to, and I want people to follow mine, I’m just not good at that sort of stuff; I don’t even know how to check who’s viewing my blog. I’m that technologically challenged.) I’d have to learn about widgets and applications and finding friends and winking at people. It's just too much. Sort of like an old dog/new tricks sort of thing.

I’m an old-fashioned girl, and I keep in touch with my friends the old-fashioned way. It’s called email. And I’m pretty good at it.

BUT...

Maybe I’m totally wrong about Facebook?

Me + Vodka = BFFs

You ever have one of those days that you drink for 12 hours straight and then at the end of the night you’re completely sober?

That was me on Saturday.

(Thankfully, 95% of those drinks were free. Otherwise, I'd have been pissed! Not pissed in a drunk way, pissed in an angry way.)

Four of us spent the weekend at the (semi) new MGM Grand Hotel & Casino at Foxwoods. It was still all shiny and new and nice. We had a great time, awesome dinner and lots of laughs.

The best part? I have a new favorite drink! It’s a hot and dirty martini.

The recipe: Vodka, olive juice and pepperoncini juice, garnished with olives and a pepperoncini (duh!).

OMG. So. Freaking. Yummy.

Totally making one when I get home tonight.

Other updates, besides my abundant love for alcohol:

My sanity: Perhaps you remember me talking about that stupid mirror that I’ve been wanting from West Elm. That I went to West Elm to buy (after a year of talking about said mirror), and found out that I could only buy the mirror online. (WTF?) So then I found a similar mirror for half the price and got that. WELL, we were at dinner on Saturday night, and what was hanging on the wall above my freaking head??? MY MIRROR! (The original West Elm one, not my cheeser knock-off.) Insult to injury: there were SEVEN others hanging around the place.

My wallet: I paid only $2.54/gallon for gas this weekend! Granted, I was in the middle of East Bumfuck, but still…$2.54!!! Woo hoo!

My health: I signed up to get a flu shot at work. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. Maybe it’s the sharing needles with people at work thing. (Well, not the SAME needle.) ((I hope.)) The last time I got one was 10 years ago when I worked at a hospital, and that’s only because it was free. Still, it’s only $15, and I haven’t developed an allergy to latex or eggs, so I’m going for it. But it does seem counter-productive that one of the warnings of the flu shot is that you might get flu-like symptoms.

Tonight is a GOOD tv night for me (Chuck, HIMYM, Worst Week), so I’m ready to settle in with dinner, a hot and dirty and the DVR!

Ugh.

Weren't her 15 minutes of fame up, like, 5 years ago?

Wasn't it enough that we had to watch her on TV (TWICE!), then broadcast her ridiculously expensive wedding on national TV (I couldn't look at the color pink for a year afterwards). And then we had to hear how hard it was for her to get pregnant and have a baby.

But wait! There's more! Now we must endure Trista & Ryan's latest triumph: Baby Number 2! And, don't forget the icing on the cake: it is LIFE THREATENING for her to have a baby! (Um, then why are you HAVING another one???) Which, of course, if perfect headline news.

Next up: "Trista and Ryan Paint Their Bathroom!" I can see the HGTV special now...

KK's Law: When You Run Into Someone You Know, You'll Most Likely Look Like Crap

I took Friday off from my super awesome job and enjoyed a long weekend.

The first half of my weekend was spent in Boston, where I was violated at the doctor’s office, drank too many Mangers and used the Men’s Room. (Twice)

The latter half was spent in Connecticut, eating weird food, doing laundry and searching for a missing knife. (Still haven’t found it)

Here are the highlights:

BOSTON

• I thought that a over a year was way too long to pine away for this mirror. And since I was going to be right near a West Elm, I would stop being cheap and pop in and buy the stupid thing. Hey, I was saving myself the shipping charges, right? Well, guess what? They don’t carry that mirror in the store. It’s only available online. I waited over a year to be told I couldn't buy it in store? Of course.

• When I moved to Boston in 1998, the bus cost $0.60 to ride. Now? $1.50! (My 3-block ride was totally worth it, though. Stiletto boots + cobblestone and brick = unhappy kk)

• Somehow, I’ve shrunk. I’m only 4’ 11 ½” inches tall now. (Time for taller heels!)

• I got to see my old realtor! I had put my house-hunting friend in contact with her and we went out looking at condos. It was great to see her, she looked the exact same. She demonstrated her awesome memory by recalling minute details about me and my life, practically remembering every outfit I wore on our (many, many, many) house hunting outings. I, however, couldn’t even remember her husband’s name. (Shameful)

• I paid under $3.00 a gallon for gas! (I was extremely proud of this fact until I was rummaging through the glove compartment of our 97 Toyota and found a gas receipt from 2002. Gas was $1.13/gallon.)


CONNECTICUT

• I came home Saturday night to attend an Oktoberfest party that I had ZERO interest in attending. We went to the same party last year and I had a lame time. And the food? Tray after tray of different meats; schnitzels and wursts and stews. Not one green food in sight. Don’t Germans eat vegetables???

• Karma was on my side: I was in Homegoods (my favorite store!) on Sunday and saw almost an EXACT replica of the mirror I wanted from West Elm for HALF THE PRICE!!! I scooped that baby up and it’s happily hanging in our downstairs bathroom.

• It was like reunion weekend! I ran into my two best friends from grade school! Actually they ran into each other, and then I ran into them. Of course I looked like crap, wearing jeans, a fleece and a baseball hat. They looked as skinny as ever. It was great seeing them, though, and we made empty promises to keep in touch.

And, here I am back in the work week.

Happy Hump Day everyone!

Ten Things I Hate About Today

1. It’s already Monday
(I’m not ready for Monday, I still have some Saturday and Sunday things to finish, like laundry, napping and TV watching)
2. There was frost on my car
(It’s way too early for winter, naked trees and frozen boogers)
3. My job
(Anyone have a need for a sometimes funny/always competent writer? Anyone?)
4. The blemish on my chin
(What am I? 15???)
5. My lunch? Was a Lean Cuisine
(Need I say more?)
6. I said no to the job in NYC
(Just couldn't hack the 4-hour-a-day commute)
7. My boxes of winter clothes are just sitting in my bedroom, taunting me
(Pants: "Don't you wish you could wear me? Hear the swoosh of my wide wale all day long?")
8. It’s almost 5pm and I didn’t get anything done
9. My feet hurt
(My feet are in shock – it's hard getting accustomed to closed-toe shoes again!)
10. It’s only Monday

A more upbeat, weekend-recapping post to come tomorrow. Promise!

Is It Wrong?

That I get emails from my liquor store?

(Right. I didn't think so either.)

Sticks And Stones Will Break Their Bones

Is it just me, or didn't the models on Project Runway last night look even MORE emaciated than ever???

Operation: Fit Back Into My Favorite Pants

I plan to do this two ways:

1. More exercise

2. Fewer french fries

Okay! I'm Back!

First things first:

Living life after the Great Computer Debacle of 2008 has been tough.

It's like it's New Year's, without the big party. You know how when January arrives you have all these ideas and lists of things you’re going to do to be more organized, be a better person, stop shame eating…you get the picture. Well, I’m doing those things now. Two whole months early. So when you all silently pledge to start a comprehensible filing system for emails, I’ll be WAY ahead of you.

Being in a resolution-y sort of mood, I promise:

To no longer dwell on my dead computer.
To bond with my impostor (er, replacement) laptop.
To focus on all of the good that has come out of this: learning to back-up my work.
(Somehow, this revelation lacks the comfort I'm looking for.)

Moving on:

The weather this past weekend was glorious! Time absolutely had to be spent outside. Mix that time with good friends, yummy food and drinking, and you’ve got yourself a weekend made in heaven.

On Saturday, we met friends we haven’t seen in a while at a winery. They are one of those fun couples. We have tons of stuff in common, including zero children, a fondness for drinking and a love of (expensive) good food. So we packed up a picnic and headed for the country.

My friend’s husband is a big researcher-type. He's always Googling and finding crazy things online. Like clogs with spikes on them he wore to aerate his lawn. Or these new potato chips from England. Or blue-footed chickens (apparently not worth the hype and hefty price tag).

So when he was telling us about this “honor system” fish market, as much as I wanted to doubt him, I knew that somewhere, this place existed.

And who would have thought that it existed here in Connecticut? Right down the street from where we were.

An honor-system fish market? This I had to see.

First of all, only in Sleepytown, CT would a place like this even exist. (Although I imagine there are many places in the very nice mid-west where there’s no crime and really trust-worthy people where establishments such as this could be on every corner.)

Second, this place can probably run on the honor system, because nobody would be able to find it.

We pull up to a small wooden building on a side (read: dirt) road. The building is smaller than a garage, with a little covered porch. Situated on the porch are two huge freezers. (they're like ice cream freezers, but for adults. Oh, and they’re filled with fish).

On one shelf there’s a calculator and on another, there’s a credit card machine.

Basically, you pick out your fish, add up the price, swipe your credit card, then put the signed receipt in the mail slot. Oh, and if you’re paying cash, there’s a little basket filled with money (actual bills, people) in one of the coolers for making change.

I could have taken every package of scallops, calamari and tuna out of there and hit the road without leaving a cent.

(But I didn’t. I have morals.)
(Plus, my friends would have been witnesses.)

I think this honor-system thing could really catch on. Maybe we can eliminate the need for humans altogether when it comes to buying stuff. Like I could go to Macy’s, where there are zero employees working, try on a bunch of stuff, scan the tickets of the items I want, place my purchases in a nice shopping bag, swipe my card and be on my way. No interrupting the gum-smacking teenager from her uber-important texting to ring me up. No making small talk with said I’m-too-good-for-this-job employee. No witnessing the embarrassed/annoyed face she makes when asking me if I’d like to save 10% and open up a store card.

This just might work.

Long Overdue

Can Cloris Leachman get kicked off DWTS already?

Embarrassing and pathetic? Those lines were crossed in Week 1.

It's Official

I lost everything on my computer.

I'm going to go throw up now.

I Feel Like Carrie Bradshaw

And not in an "I'm-a-size-0-with-tons-of-sexy-shoes-and-a-flourishing-writing-career" sort of way.

Remember the episode when Carrie's computer died, and she just wanted to cry because all of her writing was on it and she had never backed anything up? And then everyone she told tried hard not to laugh saying, "Did you back anything up?" And remember how she just wanted to crawl in a hole and cry?

(Can you see where I'm going with this?)

So, you guessed it (I hope): my computer died on Friday.

I have a laptop for work, so that's the computer that I use all the time. For everything.

One minute I was working, the next I was staring at the rainbow pinwheel. For an eternity. So I shut off my computer and turned it back on. Maybe it was stuck or something. 

I called the tech team immediately.

TECH:  "What do you see?"

ME:  "A solid blue screen with a picture of a file folder and a flashing question mark."

TECH:  "Oh."

It's amazing how one little word, one little syllable, when paired with a descriptive tone, could hit you right in the pit of your stomach.

Tech came and tried to revive her, but it was no use.

TECH:  "I'm going to send her to the Mac doctor to see if they could retrieve the data. Keep your fingers crossed."

I don't care about the presentation I was working on for Monday, that I will now need to spend my Sunday re-doing.

I am lamenting the hundreds of pages of writing (which included about 150 pages of my "novel" that I had started) that are now gone.

Gone.

G-O-N-E.

Yes, I know there's a chance that the Mac people will be able to retrieve the data from my computer.

And yes, I know that I should have backed up my stuff.

And that it's technically my fault.

And I can't blame the stupid computer.

But all of my writing? Gone?

Can a girl get a little sympathy? Please?

Just One More Reason Why I Hate That I Have To Work Everyday

Giada DeLaurentis of Food Network fame, is doing a meet and greet book signing at a bookstore in CT today!

I LOVE Giada!

Because of my weird obsession with The Food Network, I have also turned my father-in-law and my dad into big Giada fans as well. (I'm not quite sure how much of a culinary education they are getting, however, since my father will usually comment more on Giada's tight tops than her tortellini.)

If I couldn't be there, I had to have some member of the family represent. So my in-laws are going today to meet Giada (jealous!).

Last night both sets of parents were over for dinner (I'm the one that likes to cook! I should meet Giada!) and this was the conversation:

DAD: "So you think she'll be wearing one of her low-cut shirts?"

FATHER-IN-LAW: "I'm hoping she's wearing NO shirt!"

They laugh like two teenage boys.

(insert Mom and Mother-in-law eyerolling)

I'm worried my father-in-law might try to kidnap Giada, and we'll have to explain where there's a topless Food Network star in our basement.

Does Aggravation Cost Extra?

I’m trying to decide what the best part of my manicure today was:

A. the nail technician doing a rush job (read: shitty job) on my manicure because they were so busy…

B. having said nail technician stop my manicure every five seconds to answer the phone (27 women work in that salon…someone else can’t answer the phone?)...

OR

C. listening to the she-devil nail lady giggle and exclaim (after rubbing cream on my hands and wrists), “Ooh! Hairy arms! Hee hee hee hee!”

You Know Who You Look Like?

Friday I had a job interview.

It’s been about 3 years since I’ve been on one, so I was a little rusty.

I used to like my job. Sort of. But recently, the place where I work has gotten so out of control, it’s time to look for somewhere new to hang out all day. Between the ridiculous workload, long hours, and people mysteriously cleaning out their offices, I just don’t feel comfortable anymore. Plus, there’s a really weird vibe going on. The President is always behind closed doors, has perpetual bags under his eyes and isn’t laughing as hard at my jokes.

I had heard about an opportunity that came up in NYC. As my friend gushed about the details, it sounded great: getting back into retail advertising, managing a group of people, working for my Old Boss again.

SIDE NOTE: Old Boss is awesome. Sure, he could have a bit of a temper, and throw newspapers across the room, but I could overlook that because Old Boss is a truly handsome man. He’s like a real-life George Clooney: salt and pepper hair, impeccably dressed, great teeth. (okay, he’s not as good-looking as George, but he’s well-manicured and super nice to me. And I’m allowed to have a school-girl crush on him, because he’s gay.)

So, anyway.

My resume gets passed on, I get a phone call, and the next thing I know I’m skipping work and boarding Metro North for the city.

As I said, it’s been a while since I’ve been on the job hunt. And I’m getting pretty desperate. Which is why I’m on a train to an interview for a job that would be almost a 2 hour commute door to door, each way. But I miss working in retail advertising, I’m scared about being the next person randomly fired, and I could use a day off.

So there I am on the train. Dressed professional but cool in a black mini sweater dress, black tights and tall boots. I’m rocking a denim jacket and oversized pink bag, too. If nothing else, I look the part.

As I sit on the train I wonder if I could commute almost two hours each way every day. Probably not, but I wanted to check out the opportunity anyway. Maybe I could work different hours or maybe they would make it worth my while (wink, wink, cha-ching).

I would be there for about 3 hours; I was scheduled to meet with HR and 5 other people.

I arrived on time, with static cling causing my dress to stick up in my hoo-ha, headrest hair and breath bad enough to power the train home. If my mood after one train ride was any example of what I would be like everyday, my future in the big city wasn’t looking so hot.

Of course, HR was running behind. After filling out a computerized job application (high tech!) and having 2 different HR peeps check on me 5 different times, I was finally moved to the HR holding area which consisted of two upholstered chairs and a bookcase.

HR 1: “Feel free to read one of the books while you wait.”

The shelves were filled with three-hundred page novels. How long was I going to be there?

Just then the door with the secret code opened and a girl about my age came out. She was dressed for an interview, too, just like me. Except she was super chipper.

Normally, I’m a very friendly person. But I just wasn’t in the mood.

GIRL: “Are you here to meet with HR Lady?”

ME: “Yes.”

I’m reading a book (one I brought with me; if nothing else I will be well-read from long train rides with this job), and get sort of annoyed that she keeps interrupting me.

GIRL: “Weird weather out, huh?”

Head nod.

GIRL: “Are they running late today? Were you scheduled at 9:30, too?”

It’s obvious that she’s going to talk to me until I start answering her back.

GIRL: “Job interview?”

ME: “Yep.” Then I remember that I’m going to be nice. “You?”

GIRL: “Yes. I just met with HR Lady. She’s a real hoot.”

Hoot? Seriously?

ME (trying to make nice-nice): “You a designer?”

My new friend laughs like I'm doing a stand-up show.

GIRL: “Nah. I’m a numbers girl. I work for West Elm.”

I perk up. LOVE West Elm.

ME (somewhere finding my inner friendliness: “There’s a mirror there that I’ve loved for almost a year. I haven’t bought it yet.” I tell her about the mirror I want for the downstairs bathroom, which I’m too cheap to buy so I’m waiting for it to go on sale.

GIRL: “I totally know that one. You better hurry up and buy it if you want it, it’s going away for the spring.”

Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. How about that? I’m nice to the girl and I found out a very useful piece of information.

Just then HR Lady appears and beckons me inside.

Inside HR looks just like outside: tired. Drab walls, dull carpet and cube farm. So far? Not impressed with the atmosphere.

HR Lady, who sort of resembles John Goodman, gives me the lowdown and asks me all sorts of HR-like questions.

"What’s your management style?"
(Fun, but firm.)

"How do you motivate people?"
(Scream at them. Kidding! I bribe them with money.)

"How do you handle stress?"
(Um, isn’t it obvious? I look for a new job. Duh.)

After HR Lady balks at my asking salary, the assistant HR Dude escorts me up to the sales promotion floor.

HR Dude tops out at about 5’2”, uses too much bronzer and walks like his sweater is still on a hanger.

HR DUDE: “You look so familiar.”

I resist blurting every snarky comment I’ve ever used in the past at bars where strange men were hitting on me.

HR DUDE: “Are you from Boston?”

I perk up. Maybe HR Dude DOES know me.

HR DUDE: “You know who you look like?”

ME: “Um, I get Elaine from Seinfeld a lot.”

I also look like Jenni, Jeff Lewis’s assistant on Flipping Out (mainly because SHE looks like Julia Louis Dreyfuss), but I think I’m the only one who watches that show.

HR Dude is pensive, then snaps his fingers.

HR DUDE: “Jodie Foster!”

Jodie Foster?

Yes, my dark brown curls and espresso eyes are a mirror image of her dirty blond straight bob and light blue peepers.

HR DUDE: “I saw her on Perez Hilton the other day and she was wearing a hearing aid. They were totally making fun of her.”

I look like someone who needs a hearing aid? WTF?

ME: “Really? Wow. I’ve never gotten Jodie Foster before.”

HR DUDE: “It’s your bone structure. Oh, I think Jodie is stunning.”

Stunning? Well, that’s better. A little.

(Interview went well; I was there for 4 hours. I think they liked me. Bottom line: if the job was in Connecticut, I'd start tomorrow. But it's all the way in the city...)