Stay first classy, connecticut

So yesterday afternoon I was returning from my fourth trip to the midwest in as many weeks when my Type A traveling buddy and I realized that the travel agent had booked us seats in first class.

Um, in case you didn't read correctly, I was flying home in FIRST CLASS.

Now, with my excitement that ensued upon making this discovery, you'd think that someone just gave me a million dollars.

So now the two of us are like giddy school girls headed to the dance at the all-boys school.

We're so excited about our upcoming flight, that we throw caution to wind, like eating a sushi dinner at the (couldn't-be-farther-from-an-ocean) Detroit airport.

KK: "I wish they handed out 'I'm flying First Class' stickers."

TYPE A: "I would totally wear one of those!"

One perk to our First Class status is that we got to board first, through the "sky priority" lane. Yes, folks, we've hit the big time.

I'm assigned to seat 2C.

Waiting for me is a pillow and blanket (without me having to ask!)

The waitress – er, flight attendant – is handing out drinks before the flight (free!)

I get a vodka and club soda (in a real glass! delivered on a tray!)

I smirk as I watch the coach low-lifes make their way to the back of the plane. Oh, I remember having that look just 24 hours earlier.

Instead of yelling to each other across two rows (something we would have done in coach), my coworker and I communicate via text until we take off. (HER: 'I'm trying to act cool!' ME: 'Drinks are free!')

Unfortunately, our flight is short, and we only enjoy an hour and fifteen minutes of fame. One free drink and bag of Sun Chips later, we're touching down in NYC.

Maybe it was the cushiony seats. Or the fact that I could put my jacket on – while sitting down – without elbowing my neighbor in the jaw. Or perhaps it was having someone wait on my hand and foot. Either way, I'm totally ruined for flying coach ever again.*

*Unless you ask Mr. KK, who will clearly tell you that any vacation we take together will be in row 22.

why is everyone incompetent?

If I call you on the phone AT YOUR PLACE OF BUSINESS, and ask you questions ABOUT YOUR PLACE OF BUSINESS, do you really think it's appropriate to answer me with a HUFFY SIGH?

I'm sorry if you hate your job. Hey, I'm not crazy about mine. But when a CLIENT asks me a question, I put on a smile and give them 110%...and an answer. BECAUSE IT'S MY JOB.

Unless, of course, "complaining", "sighing" and "mumbling under your breath" are – in fact – IN your job description.

Then, by all means...please send a job application my way.


PS: Other skills I could master to be a part of your team include – but are not limited to:

• eye-rolling
• making "ticking" sounds with my tongue on my teeth
• rudeness
• finding my nails more exciting than patients
• passing the buck
• putting in only 37%
• acting as if the place couldn't run without me
• being zero help whatsoever

officially older...and exhausted

I am now officially on the older half of my 30s. I passed the 35 hump on Thursday, while on a business trip in Battle Creek, MI. My mother, who loves to celebrate birthdays, insisted that we go out for dinner on Friday night.

MOM: "You didn't get to celebrate your birthday at all!"

KK: "What do you mean? I had margaritas and nachos in the Detroit airport!"

(I'm semi-kidding here...the nachos were actually pretty good...)

So my "birthday" weekend consisted of dinner with my parents that included yummy martinis, changing over my closet to my spring and summer clothes, painting the trim in the bathroom (do I know how to live it up, or what?), and brunch at the Cheesecake Factory (have you had their brunch? It's to die). And I don't want to forgot the joint trip to the grocery store (Mr. KK really knows the way to my heart).

But perhaps this photo really captures the excitement of the weekend:

(Apparently when you turn 36 you start needing lots of naps. At least that's what the puppies said.)

oh, the joys of traveling

You know it's bad when you check into a hotel room that's located near a train and you find this on your nightstand:



What makes it worse?

You're traveling on your birthday.

hey, remember me?

I used to blog here quite regularly. But I've recently passed on blogging to instead hop on planes and travel to the midwest every week.

What that travel has allowed me to do, however, is get back to reading, which is something I haven't done in quite some time.

On my last trip to Chicago, I was traveling solo on both legs of my journey, so I was able to relax and read in peace, instead of being made to feel guilty that I wasn't whipping out my laptop and slapping the keys every time I found myself sitting down.

(More solo travel, please.)

I just finished reading "eat, pray, love".

I know, I'm like 6 years late to the party. But they're making it into a movie, so that lit a fire under my ass, as I only see movies that have been books after I've read the book. The movie is slated to come out this summer, starring Julia Roberts (who, btw, is NOT who I would have cast in this role at all. I'm thinking Charlize Theron. Or Gretchen Mol.)

I was excited to read this book for three reasons:
1. it was a memoir, and I thought reading a memoir might make me start writing a memoir
2. it was like literary peer pressure...everyone else had read it
3. it had been sitting in my closet for over a year...taunting me

I thought the book was...good.

Not life-changing (like I had heard), not the best read of my life (also what I had heard).

I'm thinking she kept a journal because if not, she has one mean memory. I can't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday (which will my MY memoir rather interesting, don't you think?)

I devoured her tales of Italy.
Skimmed (to put it nicely) her stay in India.
And enjoyed her time in Bali.

I give it a B-. Perhaps this is the one instance that the movie will be better.

I'm getting ready to take flight again tomorrow (and next week, too!)...with nothing to read. I think a stop at B&N is in order!

Any suggestions?

Ranting and Raving from the Windy Cindy

Every Wednesday Little Ms Blogger posts her rants and raves.

Today, I'm following her lead and posting mine.

(Warning: I'm in a foul mood)

RANT: I've spent the last 3 days in Chicago with coworkers whom I don't, um, love.

RAVE: 12 hours from now I will be home with Mr. KK and Vito

RAVE: Mr. KK got a promotion at work!

RANT: And I wasn't there to celebrate with him!

RAVE: Next week is my birthday!

RANT: And...I will be traveling for work on my big day.

RAVE: Very big, yummy, expensive room service breakfast...on my company's bill.

RANT: The girls at the ad agency we're working with constantly referring to The Radisson Hotel as 'the Raddy'.

And I'd like to add my own category here:

WEIRDED OUT: My super-toothy room service guy was overly excited to deliver my breakfast. And then called 20 minutes later to ask me how it was.

Happy Wednesday!

open invitation to Jen Lancaster

Hi Jen!

Guess what? I'm back in Chicago again for work. Yep. Second time in two weeks. Did I mention that I'll be here next week, too? And the week after that?

I know your social calendar is probably jam-packed (not to mention I'm a total stranger), but I was wondering if you'd be up for grabbing a drink? Or dinner? Or a morning walk along the Mag Mile (don't I talk like I've lived here forever?). Or anything that will get me away from my coworkers for even just two minutes?

I'm pretty tired of eating together, working together, going to the bathroom together. They even creeping their way into my dreams.

I'm much rather be downing margaritas with you, getting to know each other, talking memoirs and shit (because I'm writing one, you know? A memoir. That will have to take a turn for the boring if I have to keep going on these work trips.)

Just shoot me an email – I can be ready on a dime. I've all these cute clothes that are being wasted on strategy analysts and beige conference room walls.

Hugs,
kk