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.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Old Man and the Sea
Newport, Rhode Island.
Summer 2004.
Geriatric Beach Yoga.
A picture that always makes me smile.
Happy Monday.
Friday, March 5, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
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.
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.
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