Quattlebaum

I had a nasty exchange with a young gynecologist this morning. Giant coffee in hand, I swooped into a conference room at 7AM to find it already occupied. (Yes, 7AM. What kind of jerk schedules a 7AM meeting on March 18? Me. Oops. Dark Cloud: I limited myself to a single Guinness on St. Patrick's Day. Silver lining: This one Guinness made me sleepy enough to go to bed pre-midnight for once).

I politely informed the group that I had the room reserved, but the gynecologist tried to tell me otherwise. I second guessed myself, went back to the office to confirm the schedule, and the gynecologist still tried to tell me otherwise. She said they have the room reserved everyday from 7-8AM, which is clearly not true. I resisted the urge to scream - Gynecology isn't even on this floor!! She finally left with the huffy statement: "Huh! I guess I'll just have to check this with our secretary." I guess you will, quattlebaum.

Fast forward to 5:30PM. I'm waiting for the elevator down to the parking garage. The doors open and I'm face-to-face with the same gynecologist. I wait a few seconds for her to exit (we're at the top floor, so she couldn't possibly ride the elevator any higher. It only goes down from here, honey). No movement. Fine. I enter the elevator and reach to push the button. She suddenly squeaks out, "Oooh! This is my floor!" and scoots out of the elevator, almost being crushed by the doors. Quattlebaum.

People Are Stupid

Recent text messaging exchange with my sister, the bride-to-be...

Her: Got your RSVP today! You didn't check what you want to eat. You also didn't check "will" or "will not" attend.

Me: Are you serious? What is wrong with me? I want the chicken.

Her: Yeah you just had your name. It's ok, someone else marked every option but didn't include their name.

Old Man and the Sea

Newport, Rhode Island. 

Summer 2004.

Geriatric Beach Yoga.

A picture that always makes me smile.

 Happy Monday.

Sofa Saga Continued

Furniture salesmen are such flirts!

I've already told you about the young men who sold me sofa #1. Yes, sofa #1. I left work at 1:45pm to await the delivery of sofa #1. When it finally showed up at 7:30pm, it would not fit up the frakking stairs so I straight back to the delivery truck. Grrr.

This brings me to the sofa #2 search. The showroom was pretty empty, so the sales guy hovered around me while I considered my options. Thanks to my indecisiveness, this lasted for quite some time. Then he said, "Is it gay if I sing along to David Archuleta?" I hadn't noticed his humming until he called attention to it. I wouldn't call this "gay" as much as "bad taste." I said I didn't know any Archuleta tunes and he commented that he shouldn't know them either.

So, okay, bad start... but the conversation improved and I'm fairly certain this guy was laying some game on me. He worked in that he was single after ending a 2-year relationship, owned a house, owned a dog, liked the outdoors, had lived in Hawaii, and that furniture salesman can make 6 figures (sure). I gave him my address (for sofa delivery purposes, of course) and this led to a discussion of downtown, good places to hang out, extracurricular activities, etc. He asked if I had met a lot of people since moving here... By this point, I was semi-expecting a non-committal suggestion, invitation, offer to see each other outside the furniture showroom. I mentally considered the pros (he seems like a decent guy) and cons (he is skinny), and decided that I'd probably accept.

Then the moment of truth. I said it was nice to meet him and sincerely thanked him for his help. He stammered a bit, lingered half a second longer than necessary, and said: "Well, you know where to find me if you have any other needs."

Needs? Oh please. Don't be coy. Wimpiness will get you nowhere.

Ask. A girl. Out.

Girls' Night Out

Vroom Vroom Vette

Jerk in front me at the red light

Yo Butt

During my Saturday visit to Jiffy Lube, the mechanic said one of my rear brake lights was out. However, he could not replace it because the whole fixture is missing. There is nothing to screw the lightbulb into. Odd, no? I asked the mechanic, "Is this something I could get pulled over for?"

His answer: "Only if the cop wanted to be a real butt."

Butt!! I haven't heard this insult since the 3rd grade. Butt!! Instant hangover cure.

I'd Rather Date a Spider or a Rat

This is so hilarious that it warrants posting on facebook AND the blog.

http://youmakemetouchyourhandsforstupidreasons.ytmnd.com/

I'm reminded of a boy with whom I exchanged love notes in 6th grade. (However, I hope my notes had better spelling and a punctuation mark thrown in here and there.)

This boy went to a different school, so our mutual friend Liz served as a go-between. After she got off the school bus, she'd meet me in my backyard to deliver the latest note. Always written on paper torn out of a spiral notebook... always folded into some complicated origami triangle. After a few weeks of these epistles, we arrived at the moment of truth. Both of our schools were scheduled to have a field day at Knoebels, the local amusement park. He had written, "Do you want to french kiss in the haunted house?" I answered yes... and then we avoided each other like the plague all day.

Ahh, young love!

Sofa and Then Some

I recently purchased a sleeper sofa on what was a very quiet night at the furniture store. Three salesmen (all approximately age 22) were sitting on (what else?) a sofa doing pretty much nothing. They soon began complimenting my coat. Really, boys... my coat? Is that the best you can do? Did you happen to overlook my rack and hot ass? Maybe I should stop covering up with a coat...

The coat discussion continued long enough to become awkward. Someone asked, "I didn't know North Face had a Summit Series. What's different about that?" I had faked interest as long as I could. I said, "I really don't know. I got this in China. It's not a real North Face." I realize the point of having counterfeit goods is to pass them off as real, but I DON'T CARE.

My admission only prolonged the conversation. We discussed my impressions of China and the quality of a fake North Face coat. It might not do the trick in Rochester, but it is good enough for South Carolina... as long as it's not raining. I learned the hard way that both ends of the hood have the same type of velcro. In other words, it doesn't stick together. You get what you pay for.

One of the guys shared a life-long dream: "You know what? I've always wanted to go to China. I would check into a fancy hotel, get all dressed up, then go down to the front desk and ask... 'Excuse me, do you know where I can get some good Chinese food?'"

He cracked himself up, and his buddies chuckled too. I, on the other hand, still struggle to find a shred of humor in this suggestion. Is it supposed to be funny because he's asking for Chinese food in China? But then why the build up about the hotel and fancy clothes? The guy appeared to be of Chinese descent... does that somehow make it funny?

When finally placing my sofa order, a particularly over-enthusiastic member of the sales team told me he would remember my March 3rd furniture delivery date because "THAT'S MY BIRTHDAY!" And he'll have no trouble remembering my name because "THAT'S MY MOM'S NAME!" Goofy as he was, I'll give credit where credit is due. Calling me by the right name earns you a few points these days.

No Spa Zone

The winter weather is taking a toll on my beauty regimen. No wonder I don't have a boyfriend! That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

A few weeks ago, my 9am Saturday eyebrow session was canceled due to inclement weather. Sort of a blessing in disguise because I didn't have a snowball's chance in South Carolina of making that appointment. Who am I kidding? Note to self: Revise calendar to make all weekend mornings "TBD."

We got more "snow" on Tuesday and wouldn't you know that I had a 5:30pm facial? They called at noon to tell me they were closing early due to that infamous inclement weather. Could I move my appointment up "a little bit, well actually a lot" to 4pm. Nope, I have a job. How else would I pay for this pore maintenance? Again, a blessing in disguise in a way. (That work situation that is "sucking the life out of M" has been resolved in a way that means many late nights for me over the next few months. Trading in one bad situation for another...).

When I finally left the office that night, I encountered... some rain. Silly Southerners. If you cancel my facial at the slightest hint of precipitation, how will I continue to be mistaken for a college student?*

*I've recently decided to embrace this other case of mistaken identity. Marilyn is forever young.

Ring My Bell

I'll let Timberland tell my story (lyrics at 2:15). 

Yep, I'm out of the basement and drinking wine in a downtown condo... complete with the cutest goshdarn pineapple doorbell you ever did see. Not only is the pineapple a delicious fruit; it is a symbol of hospitality. What a way to greet guests! I dare you to resist pushing that button. This doorbell screams out... Come and knock on my door; I've been waiting for you...

That can be a good or a bad thing. Three's company, but when does a gathering become a crowd? Maybe when a self-proclaimed professor of architecture overstays his welcome and tries to crash on your couch. Think about Captain Kangaroo singing folk songs in the pre-dawn hours.

"Summer Wages" sing-along, anyone? I didn't think so. Here's a video so you can brush up on the lyrics.



The professor may have been kind enough to "defer to the hostess," but luckily my friends were not. Goodnight, sir.

Running Ragged

I'm sooo glad to have a few quiet weekends at home coming up before wedding season and more travel. I need to get back on track. For example, I am months and months behind on my TV viewing. Some people might view this as a positive, but damnit, I enjoy watching TV. And I am good at it... which is more than I can say about some other things.

• Work Life - Terrible. For over a month now, I've been dealing with a situation which human resources has accurately described as "sucking the life out of Maureen" and requiring "a huge emotional investment." I am not willing to emotionally invest in this and I've had just about enough of this malarkey. Not only are my dictatorial ways driving people to the looney bin... I'm being dragged along with them.
• Love Life - Terrible. I seem to have been dumped by someone I wasn't even dating. That's an extra special kind of rejection.
• Social Life - So "good" that it makes for a terrible next day. It's all fun and games at 4am, but I'm signing a different tune when I'm still in bed in the mid-afternoon. It might benefit me to find the medium volume between my typical "off" or "full blast."

But such is life, and I have a pretty good one overall. On the bright side, I recently slept 7.5 hours on a school night and cooked myself a healthy dinner. That's gotta be some kind of record... a nice record :)

 Fruits and vegetables and chopping, oh my!

Vegas Baby

This is old news by now, but I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge a recent trip to Las Vegas... also known as Marilyn's Playground. Fun!!

The trip started with a long flight, but I was lucky enough to sit in first class while my traveling companions roughed it in coach. Ain't none of those first class fliers roughin' it! Consider my across-the-aisle neighbor who stopped the flight attendant to ask, "Excuse me, can you please throw this away for me?" Did she hand her a napkin... an empty coffee cup... a plastic wrapper? Nope. It was a book. A paperback book! Who the heck throws away a book? I'll admit that when I was in my world-traveling phase, I would often leave books on trains or planes or buses or boats or tuk-tuks when I was done with them. This is because I was carrying everything I owned on my back and I was thrilled to lighten my load by 200 pages. However, I always thought I was doing my fellow travelers a favor. The next passenger would come across a little treasure thanks to me! Never would I consider pitching it in a trash can. Wasteful Americans...

When we finally landed in Vegas, the weekend involved a strip mall wedding, a rockstar bus, and a good time had by all :) I danced so much that I lost blood supply to my left foot for approximately 3 days. Curses to high heels! I will share this dancefloor picture because the faces of the not-so-innocent are obscured. Thank goodness for hair.

In more boring (but more appropriate) Vegas news, I ate more in one buffet visit than I typically eat in an entire week. Binging and boozing... I feel sick.

Sorry I can't say more about Las Vegas, but you know how the saying goes...