Tuesday, December 29, 2009

It's not my day

For the last week I've had it in my head that I had a dentist appointment this morning. On a whim, I called to confirm the appointment time.

Turns out, I DON'T have a dentist appointment today.

I have an appointment with the skin doctor.

At 9am.

It's 8:45am.

And I'm not showered.

I have hairy legs.

My belly is bulging from too much holiday indulging.

And I am in no way, shape or form ready to have someone inspect my naked body.

Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Monday, December 28, 2009

can you say it again? only louder and more slowly?

On Saturday morning, Mr. KK and I hit the stores with the rest of the crazy people.

Our first stop was Target, so I could stock up on half-priced Christmas goodies for next year.

Our second stop was the mall, so that I could exchange something from my Mom.

(Sweetly, she thinks I'm a size smaller than I actually am. When I told her this she replied, "Well the sweater I got you just looked so big I thought for sure it would fit." Thanks, Mom.)

So I'm standing in line at The Loft, listening to the guy behind the counter talk about himself. He's going on and on about how he's working in women's retail for over 20 years, how much he loves it and how good at it he is, and how he went to school to be a stylist. Really? You went to school to be a stylist and you're working the Return Line at the mall on the day after Christmas? Might want to reign in the ego a bit, dude.

So it's my turn (finally!) and the nice woman helps me with my exchange. I also have a top from Mr. KK's aunt that is a bit too long.

KK: "Can you scan this to see if it's crazy on sale? I know everything is marked down, and if it is I'll ask her for the receipt. I didn't see it anywhere in the store, so there's a chance it's from The Loft outlet and I'll take it back."

She scans the sweater with no luck.

SALESWOMAN: "It's not in our system. And I don't even recognize it."

KK: "No worries. I'm sure it's from the outlet. I'll just take it back."

SALESWOMAN: "No, wait, let me check for you. Stephen, is this top one of ours?"

The retail douchebag dances over from his register and pulls his Gucci glasses down his nose to inspect my sweater.

DB: "Oh no. This sweater is from the outlet," he says to her with disdain. Then – using only 2 fingers to touch my sweater like it's covered in swine flu – he tosses my sweater towards me. "We can't touch this sweater."

SALESWOMAN: "Okay, thanks. That's what she thought. I was just checking."

Then, Stephen the DB looks up at me. "You need to return that at the outlet. We don't take their merchandise here."

For a second I feel a little like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, only more like a criminal.

Then, I got royally pissed off.

KK: "Thanks. No problem."

DB: "It's from the ouuutleeeet." His annunciation skills are wonderful. "The outlet is a different store."

Okay. That's it.

KK: "Yes, I know where the outlet is, Stephen."

I grab my sweater and walk out the store.

Of-freaking-course, the door alarm goes off, completely ruining my 'stomping-off-in-anger' show.

I walk back to the desk to overhear my saleswoman and Stephen taking.

SALESWOMAN: "She wasn't trying to return it here. She thought it was from the outlet to begin with."

STEPHEN THE DB: "Well, you never know. These people come in here and try to return stuff they shouldn't...you never can tell..."

Stephen turns around to find he's face to face with...ME.

He smiles embarrassingly.

I raise one eyebrow.

KK: "Hi, again, Stephen."


Tuesday, December 22, 2009

but you never know when you'll need one!

Last night I was in Homegoods and I came across an item that I just had to have.

It's more of a specialty item, not something that I would use every day.

I walked by its beauty four or five times.

Ran my fingers over its cool, smooth exterior.

Smiled at myself in the reflection.

Mentally decorated my living room with it.

It would be the quintessential conversation starter.

So I texted this to Mr. KK:

"Is there any chance we have any need for a disco ball????"

Needless to say, I came home empty handed.

But I had wonderful disco dreams.

Friday, December 18, 2009

tell those turtledoves that I ain't ready


Hard to believe that Christmas is a week away. I am yet to finish my shopping, have not even started wrapping, and need to spend tonight and tomorrow prepping for our annual family holiday cocktail party! (Because we just won't see each other enough over the next two weeks...)

I haven't eaten a meal in my house since lunch last Saturday, so I'm looking forward to spending some time at home. But not too much time, because I have to go out and finish the shopping!

A few funny things happened on the way to this weekend, and instead of making you read paragraph upon paragraph explaining every detail of my super-exciting life*, I thought a down-and-dirty "highlights only" kind of post was the way to go.


Had a great dinner out with a few friends from work and we did a mini grab bag. I put in this fabulous necklace that my coworker loved and proudly wore last night at our company holiday party (more on THAT later). In return I got some beautiful brightly-colored ornaments from Pier 1, which only reinforces that I need to break away from my anal-Martha-Stewartness of decorating the Christmas tree only in colors that match the living room (blue and silver. it only sounds like a Hanukkah tree. It looks super nice. really.)


Client holiday party at a great Latino restaurant. Great food (I still couldn't eat) and yummy margaritas (I still couldn't drink). Throw in a sloppy drunk VP and you have yourself a par-tay!


This evening, Mr. KK and I officially aged 40 years and gained 40 pounds. We were out buying a new grown-up camera (with a lens and everything!) and moseyed over to...wait for it...The Red Lobster. This is especially amusing because my grandparents like to go there for dinner...at 4pm. It was 8:30pm, so we pretty much had the place to ourselves.

The only way to watch your figure at that joint is to watch it grow, because there's NOTHING that's remotely healthy on that menu. After much debate, I ended up ordering: a half-order of (butter-covered) shrimp and lobster, with tomatoes and (buttery) asparagus in a white wine and butter sauce, served on a plate made of butter.

And – to put the icing on the cake – we paid with a coupon.


Ah, the company holiday party.

Let's just say, I needed MANY drinks to get through the night. (In fact, you should go mix yourself a cocktail just to read about it)

A few notable nuggets:

  • The party was at an aquarium down the road, and we had the run of the place, so it was pretty cool
  • We were at an aquarium, so I felt the need to apologize to the tanks every time I ate a crab cake
  • I didn't need that last beer
  • And speaking of that last beer, why the hell did I choose beer? I started with cosmos, moved onto white wine...how did the word "beer" come out of my mouth at the end of the night?
  • Someone brought their INFANT to the party. Now, Mr. KK, being the nice person that he is, says, "Maybe they couldn't find a baby sitter." Well, if they didn't have FOUR OTHER CHILDREN that needed watching, then I would have considered this fact. But those other kids had to be somewhere...why on earth would you bring a 6-month old to a party???
  • When the party ended and I said, "Let's go with everyone to the bar!", Mr. KK should have responded, "Let's go home!"
  • Did I mention the lack of food? And what food was there was bad? So that lead to the need to fill the belly with drinks. So the result was: empty belly, more drinkies.
So I'm operating at half-mast today. Which isn't good, because there's lots to do.

And those 12 drummers drumming are killing my headache.

*Okay, I lied. Even the short version is rather long. Hey, I'm a writer. I just can't.stop.writing.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

it's like they took a snapshot of my worklife...

Check out this cartoon...about agencies trying to please their clients.

I've experienced every one of these scenarios.


Tuesday, December 15, 2009

was Paul Revere busy?

Two months ago – in the height of my madness for boots (yes, we're back to boots, sorry!) – I ordered a pair of "not-the-real-thing-but-they'll-do-for-fifty-bucks" boots from Target.

They were impossibly hard to find in store, and even more so online. To add frustration to the ever-growing boot fiasco, when I placed my order, I was told the boots were on "back order" and Target would let me know when they had more available to ship, and that it was likely that my boots would arrive sometime towards late December.

That was in October.

Lots has happened since then. In case you haven't been reading my blog, here are some highlights of the last 60 days:
1. I blogged for 30 days straight in November
2. I've been pronounced cancer-free
3. I had dental surgery
4. I learned I'm no good on narcotics
5. I found better* boots to fill my Frye Carson void
6. I've quit Jillian Michaels
7. I executed a scrumptious Thanksgiving meal for 12 people flawlessly
8. I survived Black Friday
9. I got a cold sore
10. I did yard work

So, while ALL of that stuff was going on, the Target elves were busy making boots that I forgot about.

Last week I receive an email about these boots. (Did I already pay for these boots when I placed the order? I can't remember.) "Do you still want to proceed with the order? The order will be delayed another few weeks." So apparently I'm getting these boots for Fall 2010.

So I click "YES" (what they hey!) and forget about the boots again.

Yesterday I receive an email informing me that my boots have been shipped! And they even sent a little picture, probably to remind me what they looked like. (I still like them). And now I can track them!

So I did.

And it says this:

ITEM SHIPPED: December 14, 2009
TRACKING NUMBER: sljdfkslhfwioerhsfhs
DELIVER TO: kk's house
STATUS: in transit (yippee!)

Um, excuse me?

January 28th?

Are they WALKING my boots to me?
Shipping via dog sled?
Routing through China?

*ie, cheaper and almost as good

Thanks, Universe!

In a week when I'm bogged down with meetings, holiday parties and client dinners, Mother Nature has decided to give me a nice big (painful!) cold sore. Hey, nothing says "Happy Holidays!" like a big sore on your lip.

So, on top of my lip monster, I am still recuperating from my dental surgery, and can only eat foods that are: not hard, not crunchy, not spicy, not hot, not cold, not acidic, not lumpy, not too small, not too big, not any fun. I have a space between my teeth big enough to drive a truck through. I'm still nursing 5 stitches.

Who can't wait to spend a week being "on" with clients, schmoozing and not being able to eat any of the food offered, while offending people with my ugliness?

And who wore a super low-cut V-neck tight shirt today to keep people's eyes away from her mouth?

And in case the slut shirt didn't work, who sore a scuba-tight skirt with a slit up to her hoo-ha?

So not only will the clients not even realize that I have a cold sore, they'll also not realize that I have eyes, a nose or brown hair.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

things i'm bad at

1. relaxing
2. listening to people telling me to relax

I just can't sit still knowing there's laundry/cleaning/work/wrapping/decorating/organizing/shopping that could be done.

And when I finally did lie down on the couch, there was nothing – and I mean nothing – on TV.

OR, a pack of dogs decides to walk by the house and Vito turns into a jumping bean on the cushions and my stomach.

And watching all these episodes of "Say Yes to the Dress" makes me want to have another wedding so I can try wedding dresses on again.

I'm lit like a Christmas tree. So I've shut myself off from the Vicodin because – to quote myself – it makes me feel "fuzzy and woozy".

Friday, December 11, 2009

two extractions in one day

I thought my trip to the oral surgeon for my tooth extraction would be the big news today, but alas, I've been upstaged.

The show stealer? The minute I walked in the door at work I found out that a former coworker was arrested for first degree child pornography! My first reaction was pure shock, quickly followed by the immediate urge to vomit.

He hasn't worked with us in about a year, but he was (is?) the nicest guy (to me, anyway). Always pleasant, saying hello, offering to change the water bottle so I wouldn't have to. And to think that he was visiting child pornography sites and had downloaded over 400 images of children to his computer just makes me sick.

So, upon hearing the news, I unfriended him on Facebook. It's my first "unfriend". And I feel awful doing it, but I know I'm not alone. When I first checked his page out this morning, his friend count was at 168. Ten minutes later, it was down to 162. In one swift click, I extracted him from my life.

The second – and really, in comparison, boring – extraction of the day was my tooth extraction. It was quick and pretty painless (except for now that everything is wearing off), mostly just pressure and sucking sounds. But is there anything weirder feeling than Novocaine in your mouth? I felt like Rocky Balboa after a bad fight.

But now, I'm home, snuggled on the couch with Vito, enjoying my Vicodin.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

It's sad...

When the highlight of your day is a free train ride.

Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

the boot saga is over

The Frye boots I've been PINING over on this blog for what seems like forever? the ones you're sick over hearing about?

Well, I didn't buy them. Me – a self-proclaimed shoe whore – just couldn't fathom separating myself with that much moolah on a gift for myself so close to Christmas, when I have so many gifts FOR OTHER PEOPLE to purchase.

So what did I do?

I went to the Marshall's Shoe Mega Shop, dug through the boots and – lo and behold – found a singular pair of Frye boots – in my exact same size – ON CLEARANCE.

So for only $135 (compared to $348), I purchased these beauties:

No, they're not the cowboy boots I've been talking about. But they are delicious riding boots that go with everything.

Mission accomplished!

Monday, December 7, 2009

Jillian, it's not you, it's me

Actually, it's the concrete floor in my basement.

After two months of on-again, off-again relations with Jillian's 30-Day Shred, I've decided to call it quits.

Is it because she calls me "buddy" while we're working out?


Is it because she uses the ridiculous phrase "don't phone it in" when referring to quitting?

No. (Kinda. Okay, No.)

Is it because she won't even give me a freakin' minute to take a drink of water?

No. (But it should be.)

It's because I'm becoming crippled.

All of the jumping, lunging, shredding I've been doing in the cave known as my unfinished basement is wreaking havoc on my knees.

In the last 2 months I've gone from 35 to 85. If I kneel or sit with bended knees for a long period of time, when I stand up, I almost topple over. I cringe with pain and can barely straighten my legs.

This started happening soon after I started the workout DVDs. The funny thing is, I read one review from a woman who complained about the same thing...but I just chalked her up to a frustrated hypochondriac who didn't lose any weight.

Now, I see – and feel – her point.

So Mr. KK has banned me from working out with Jillian.

I don't know if I should cry, or kiss him.

Friday, December 4, 2009


Today, I am tired.

Today, my ass is dragging from getting home late from a client dinner in NYC.

Today, because of said lateness, I have dirty hair.

Today, I am wearing diamond earrings with a track jacket.

Today, I ate a mismatched lunch: leftover turkey burger and gourmet grilled octopus salad.

Today, my fellow coworkers have booked me in meetings from the minute I arrived here until the minute I'm leaving. (Except for that 15 minute window so that I can pee and eat some lunch – you guys are THE BEST!)

Today, we are decorating our tree, as soon as we A.) locate all of the lights from last year or B.) buy all new lights. (I'm leaning towards B, because it's just easier)

Today, I am looking forward a night in with Mr. KK, complete with a "dinner" consisting of: ciabatta bread, rosemary breadsticks, 2 kinds of cheeses, fresh sliced prosciutto, olives and oven roasted tomatoes.

Today, marks the 34th day in a row I've posted to my blog (in case anyone is counting)

Today, I'm asking you to watch the video I posted yesterday because it's so frickin' funny. Seriously. (Please?)

Today, I'm wishing you all a super-fun-we're-deep-in-the-heart-of-the-Christmas-season weekend!

Thursday, December 3, 2009

you'll be humming the theme song all day

This video?

Is hilarious.

I saw it a few weeks ago.

Now I'm reading that it's been pulled from YouTube because a group of people are claiming that it is sexist and condones rape.

(Yes, I said rape. It's about chemicals in your cleaners, people!)

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

if you don't like it, take it up with my band

I was thinking the other day how cool it would be if we could all have theme songs.

And you could have different theme songs for your different actions or moods. When you walk into a room, your theme song starts playing. Like in the movies.

Imagine this scenario...

The setting: work

I'm marching down to my boss's office, resignation in hand.

As I enter his office, the beginning bars of Daughtry's "No Surprise" start to rise up.

ME: "I think it's time for me leave COMPANY."

(and the song starts...)

"I've practiced this for hours, gone round and round

And now I think that I've got it all down
And as I say it louder I love how it sounds
Cause I'm not taking the easy way out
Not wrapping this in ribbons
Shouldn't have to give a reason why..."

ME: "It's been real. KK out."

"It's NO SURPRISE I won't be here tomorrow

I can't believe that I stayed till today
Yeah you and I will be a tough act to follow
But I know in time we'll find this was NO SURPRISE"

Seriously, this scenario gives me chills.

What would your theme song be?

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

because I'm right...and everyone else is wrong

Dear Dental Insurance Customer Service Rep,

I'm pretty sure that answering the phones and tending to people's insurance questions is your JOB. So when I call with questions regarding my dental insurance, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't punctuate every.single.sentence. with a disgruntled *sigh* that has the capacity to wake a sleeping baby 5 states away.

I didn't know that my asking whether or not my upcoming DENTAL SURGERY would be covered would cause you to be so distraught. I'm the one who should be upset, considering – according to you – my new oral surgeon isn't part of your dental plan, and I will be paying out of pocket for some of these expenses. I think I should be the one sighing.

So how about next time you skip the hemming and hawing and answer my freaking questions?

It's not my problem is you hate your job. Join the effing club.

No compassion,


Dear Drivers Who Believe Their High Beams Are Their Regular Headlights,

When you're in bumper to bumper traffic?
On a well-lit road?
At a light at the end of an exit ramp?


Blind in one eye,


Dear Aspiring Dunkin' Donuts Franchisee,

Can you please open up your DD near my office?

It's really too much to expect me to get into my car in the middle of the workday and drive to YOU.

The only coffee place in walking distance is Starfucks. And their hot chocolate gives me a bellyache.

Needing a fix,


Dear Leroy,

It's quite maybe somewhat very possible that I will be missing a tooth for your wedding.

I'll talk with the photographer to make sure he only photographs me from the left, on an angle, with low lighting.

There's always Photoshop,