The Cubicle’s Backporch

Scene: MrC has just gotten out of the shower.

Me: Did you grab the new body wash from underneath the sink?

MrC: No. I just used the purple bottle of stuff.

Me: You mean the In-Shower Body Lotion?

MrC: I guess.

::Pause::

MrC: Is that stuff supposed to stay on your skin? Because it didn’t clean very well.

Me: Yes. And it didn’t clean because it’s a LOTION. And it has shimmer stuff in it. So you’re SHIMMERY.

MrC: Well I guess I’m going to have to shimmer today.

And that, my friends, is how I found myself with a shimmery boyfriend. And also how I will never have to worry about MrC using the purple stuff again.

Make sure you keep an eye on your snowmen…

A little Thoughtless Thursday.

I think the worst thing you can find out about a hotel is if it’s completely booked.

Not because you may get stuck with a shitty room.

But because that means there’s SOMETHING going on in the area. And in the Detroit area, usually that’s a Car Show, or some sort of business conference.

But that wasn’t my fate this time.

Oh no.

It was worse.

Much Worse.

The fucking Junior Olympics.

I don’t even know exactly what it is, but I’m guessing it’s a bunch of stage-parents who push their kids in sports so that they’re in the JUNIOR OLYMPICS and it sounds REALLY cool.

So we walk in and there’s all these kids walking around. Then I walk down the (LONG) hallway to my room and I pass rooms where I can hear thousands of kids. I even saw one room with like 15 girls who were like 13 years old, sitting around a table with plastic cups and what looked like wine bottles sitting around. Uh yeah.

Thankfully, the hotel put me at the end of the hallway and there’s not much noise on my end.

Although when I went to work out, there were several groups of boys (14-ish age) who ignored the big “18 AND OVER” sign and came in, talking loudly, lifting the free weights, lifting their shirts and looking at their chests, and of course- flexing in front of the mirrors to show off their biceps.

Regardless of their cute little 14-year old muscles, I so would’ve kicked their asses if they had even THOUGHT about touching the TV remote (which was on a different machine than mine). I was watching Project Runway. And you don’t fuckin’ mess with Project Runway while I’m running two miles.

Favorite baby t-shirt seen on a kids picture at supplier company today:

“I’m hung like a 5-year old”

I like weird, random titles to my blogs where they actually all tie in. Example? Funny caffeinated bras. Funny- first part of post, Caffeinated- second part of post, and bras-third part of post. Just so you don’t think I’m a complete headcase… there’s reasons behind my thinking. 

Funniest thing JFriend has said recently:

(E-mailing each other at work): I’m so busy I’m going to puke.

WTF? I laughed when I read that. Who gets busy and wants to puke?

Weirdest news headline:

Man uses steak knife for at-home tracheotomy. (On FoxNews)

At least he didn’t use a butter knife.

Caffeine makes me kooky

Caffeine really overdoes it self in my body. I can’t drink cokes after about 5:00pm because they’ll keep me up at night. Really. So I knew I was in for trouble when I took two excedrin migraines on an empty stomach. I’ve been shaky all morning. (But it’s still better than having a headache) The good part about that is that unlike yesterday (which was a very unproductive day), I’ve been jittering all around the office and getting stuff checked off my list-of-stuff-to-do before travelling next week.

Handwashing. Who the hell does that?

I’m a Victoria’s Secret snob. All my bras (except for my sports bras, which I got as a gift from Wal-Fart for Christmas) and panties are from Victoria’s Secret. ALL of them. That being said, I have a crapload of VS bras and most of them are ‘handwashable’. I have never hand-washed a bra. Or anything, for that matter. I’m going shopping this weekend to get more bras because mine are (finally) starting to wear out. After three years. I machine-washed them (although I mostly hung them out to dry) for three years and they are just now starting to lose their elasticity and shape.

So why in the hell would I want to hand-wash them when they last three years being machine washed?

Speaking of bras, Mr. C got me one from VS for Christmas and I love, love, love it… I can’t remember what kind it is but it feels really funny when you’re doing the fabric-touch-test in the store, but wearing it is fabulous. And I want MORE. It’s also reversible, although the zebra print is always facing out when I wear it.

So do you guys handwash anything? Or just throw it in and hope for the best?

Me I mean, Engineer 1: Aww… look at the two ducks!

Mr. C I mean, Engineer 2: Yep.

Engineer 1: Well, I guess they’re actually two geese.

Engineer 2: It’s not ‘geese’ it’s gooses.

Engineer 1: GOOSES?

Engineer 2: Yeah, gooses! It’s 2 gooses. Or 3 geese.

Engineer 1: (laughing) GOOSES is not a word!! It’s geese! It’s one of those weirdly conjugated words!

Engineer 2: It is TOO! Gooses. Gooses. (repeats it a couple of times)

Engineer 1: (laughing harder) Quit saying that!! Gooses! It’s not a word!

Engineer 2: Whatever. Gooses.

And yes, ladies and gentlemen, we make decisions that affect peoples lives. heh.

There was mucho family drama-rama over the weekend. Tomorrow’s post will be The Cubicle’s Backporch Reality Show: Part 2. Stay tuned.

Today, I am here:

Always nonsmoking.

Room 318 in Bowling Green, Ohio.

Today I was in a meeting from 8-6. By the end my eyes were starting to blur and my head was hurting.

Best meeting moment:

A cell phone rings. I vaguely recognize the tune, but it’s stopped before I can completely verify the song. A manager at the company we’re at answers the phone. He’s in his 60s. With white hair.. His phone rings again, about 10 minutes later.

It’s the song, “Get Low” by Lil’John and the Eastside Boys. And it’s a rap-ish song.

I smiled and tried to pretend that something in my notes was overly funny.

Because, ya’ll? I get low, low, low, low….