Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Q: How Big is a Mini Fridge?

A: Not as big as Mary Poppins’ purse. (Despite what my co-workers think.)


So, at my office we have a mini fridge. You know, to hold our lunch. Or maybe an afternoon snack.

But, some of my co-workers get confused by this, and think that it’s for their entire weekly groceries. I mean, why hassle making a sandwich to bring to work, if you can store everything needed to make a sandwich at the office?

This irritates me greatly.

All I want to do is place my DAILY lunch in the fridge, and I have to smash it in there because a co-worker bozo has decided to store an entire glazed ham.

Don’t believe me?

Here are just some of the things I’ve found in the fridge*, hogging up precious space:

1. A gallon of milk
2. 3 heads of lettuce
3. 12 pack of burritos
4. 8 apples
5. A week’s worth of frozen meals
6. A loaf of bread
7. A whole Rotisserie chicken
8. A watermelon
9. A gallon of orange juice
10. 5 lbs. of pasta salad

I tell you, if tomorrow comes, and I can't fit in my PB&J, I’m going to have a Nervy B.**!!!

*Not that I’m keeping track, or anything, out of bitterness…

**Nervous breakdown. Any Georgia fans out there?

Friday, May 15, 2009

How did your day start?

Here’s the 10 step process for mine, in case you want to repeat it (and forewarning, it includes a bad word, and I mean a real one, not like “d*mn” or “h*ll” which are mild four-letter words by comparison. But, I had to include it because it’s a direct quote.):

1. Hit snooze 7 times. (Yes, 7. I know, that’s ridiculous. I’m actually only supposed to hit it 5 times (still ridiculous) which leads to my problem this morning.)

2. Wake up and realize that I’m 20 minutes late because of extra snoozing. (Really, 18 minutes late. Which reminds me: Why is snooze only 9 minutes? Do they think we need a minute to realize what the beeping* is and shut it off?

3. Run around like a wacko trying to get ready.

4. Leave my apartment and drive away while forgetting a) my breakfast I had premade, b) my lunch I had premade, and c) my purse. (Got my keys, though!)

5. Rush to work in a panic (while still observing most of the traffic laws) because I’m late and have an 8am meeting. (I mean, really, who has an 8am meeting on a Friday? That should be against the code of work ethics or something.)

6. Park and get out of my car at 7:59am. (This is also when I realize that I’ve forgotten my purse.)

7. Walk briskly to my building.

8. Get pooped on by a bird, but not notice it.

9. Enter my office, see my boss give me a funny look, think it’s about being late, say “I know I’m late, you would not believe my morning.” And hear her response “Well, if it’s anything like the sh*t you have on your shirt, it must have been bad.”

10. Endure being laughed at by other meeting attendees while I explain why I have a wet spot on my shirt and apologize for being 15 minutes late.

*I actually don’t wake to beeping. I can’t stand that! I wake to the sound of ocean waves which I can hear despite wearing earplugs and having 3 fans on in my room**.

** Have I mentioned that I’m a light sleeper? Slumber parties were NOT my friend. (In fact, I still avoid them for this very reason.)

Friday, May 8, 2009

The Animal World is Conspiring Against Me!

On my walk yesterday…

Me: (Thinking to myself) “Man, that’s a HUGE dog in that yard!”

Taking a few more steps while having a flashback to the time when I was attacked by a dog*…

Me: “Wait. Did that dog just step on to the side walk? He’s not chained up?”

Taking a few more steps…

Me: “Uh-oh, he’s in the street, now. What do I do?”

Taking a few more cautious steps…

Me: “Okay, he’s on the other side of the street. Don’t panic! Just keep walking. Stay your course, Liz!”

Taking a few more steps…then stopping with dread…

Me: “Dang!! I think he sees me!!!! Do I run? Will that cause him to chase me? What would Cesar Millan do? No, no…I must remain dominant! Keep walking, Liz!”

Taking a few more HESITANT steps…

Me: “HOLY CRAP!! He’s running to me!!!!!!! He’s gone feral!!!!!!!!”

Stopping in panic as the Rottweiler JUMPS ON ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: (saying out loud while trying not to lose control of my bowels) “Ahg!!!!! Crap!!!! Get off!!!!”

Stepping back so dog falls off my chest…

Me: (Looking down at the muddy paws on my white shirt) “Really!”

Taking a few more steps forward to try to get AWAY from the dog…

Me: (saying out loud) “Stop licking my hands!”

Taking a few more steps while noticing that the dog is bleeding from his ear…

Me: (Thinking to myself) “Is there blood on my pants?”

Taking a few more steps, realizing the dog is FOLLOWING ME!

Me: “Great. Now what do I do? Clearly he’s injured. But, I have office responsibilities. I can’t hide him in my cubicle…”

Taking a few more steps with the dog by my side…

Me: “I’ll just ignore him. He’ll go away…”


Me: “Crap.”

Continuing to walk when I notice a mother (giving me the stink-eye) and two little kids…

Mother of Kids: (In a rude tone) “You should really keep your dog on a leash!!”

Me: (Not knowing how to respond without going into a diatribe) “I know.”

Walking ANOTHER block with the dog by my side, NOT licking my hands because I’m holding them up (and looking stupid)…

Me: (Thinking to myself) “How am I going to get rid of him?”

Taking a few more steps, and seeing a stick…

Me: “Maybe if I chuck this stick?” picking up stick and throwing…


Me: (heart palpating from physical exertion and mental stress) “Please don’t let him follow me!”

Walking as fast as I can towards my office while looking over my shoulder for the dog…

Me: “Maybe he’s not coming! Yes! My stick throwing diversion worked!”

Still walking as fast I can towards my office while looking over my shoulder for the dog…

Me: “He was kind of a cute dog…maybe I could keep him? What would Flo*** say?”

Entering my office out of breath, covered in muddy paw prints, hair frizzled, and sorta wishing I had a dog…

Me: “I think I’d name him Stanley.”

*I was five, and coming home from kindergarten when I was pinned in the middle of the street by a huge** vicious dog. A neighbor lady witnessed the attack, came to rescue me, and took me to my mom.
**Okay, it was a dachshund. But, HUGE to a scared five-year-old girl!
***My little old lady apartment manager.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

On My Walk Today…

Me: (thinking to myself) “Jeez, those squirrels are awfully close to the path.”

Taking a few more steps…

Me: “They’ll probably move as I get closer.”

Taking a few more steps…

Me: “Huh? They’re not moving. What’s wrong with them?”

Taking a few more steps…

Me: “Maybe they’re rabid and planning to attack me!!”

Taking a few more steps… while contemplating the scene I would make as I scream across the field with two squirrels caught in my hair, and what my plan of action would be to dislodge them*…

Me: “They’re only a foot away, now! What the? Oh, wait…looking around embarrassed… they’re having a moment of intimacy.”

Taking a few more steps…

Me: “Great. Now I feel like a dirty peeping tom. Why can’t I ever walk in peace?!”

*Swat at them, of course!

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Part Three: How Dumb is Dumb?

So, Thursday morning, as I’m “busy” at the office (Actually, I really was busy. I’m having to do TWO JOBS(!) because my “trainee” of a year(!) is way behind. But, that’s another post…), I get a call from Bank Robbing Bec.

Here’s what happened:

As soon as she met the detectives, they realized that she couldn’t possibly be the woman they have on surveillance. The real Becca is shorter, chubbier (but still cute, Hi Becca!), and wears glasses. (Detective M. said this is why it’s important to always have an updated license photo, because when they questioned a witness of the robbery, and showed him Bec’s picture, he said that it could have been her. (Becca’s license still has her picture from high school!))

Since they had already driven all the way out to see her (remember, they’re from the O.C.) they had her and Cash look at the pictures to see if they recognized the woman. (They didn’t.) And then they told them what happened.

Apparently, after the woman robbed an Office Store employee, she decided it would be a good idea to use the stolen credit cards in the EXACT SAME STORE THAT SHE STOLE THEM FROM!!!! I mean, how stupid can you be!!! And so when she went to the counter, the guy at the register looked at the credit card, read the name of his co-worker, got suspicious (Duh!), asked for her license, and wrote down the information (Becca’s!).

At this point, the woman realized he was on to her (“What? Really? You mean he figured out I wasn’t his co-worker?” Dumb!) and ran. She then proceed to a local liquor store and spent a couple hundred dollars on the awesome(?) stuff all liquor stores have. (Would a liquor store be your first choice to use stolen credit cards? Mine neither. Although, it does explain her stupidness…alcohol may be involved??)


In the end, Bank Robbing Bec was cleared of all wrong doing, and was admonished to contact a couple of credit agencies to report that her identity might have been stolen.

The mysterious and dim-witted thief is still on the lam, probably getting ready to rob a McDonald’s and then buy a couple of Big Macs.

And my nunchucks still have their strings. (Although, I did put a pair of scissors in my night stand, because if this has taught me anything, it’s to always be ready for a police investigation.)

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Part Two: Will the Real Rebecca Please Stand Up…

Meanwhile, I get home from work and see Cash cleaning up our apartment. And not the usual dusting of tchotchkes and fluffing of pillows. Oh, no! She’s hiding stacks of unopened computer paper, piles of new pens, and other office-type supplies while wheeling suitcases into her bedroom.

Yes, friends. You heard me correctly!

Our apartment has been covered in office supplies that I was told came from a “friend” of my mom’s, but now I’m not so sure…maybe that was just a cover story…maybe Becca really DID rob the Office Store…and she and Cash left their suitcases (from their trip LAST MONTH to Asia) in the living room this whole time (despite my protests, I might add) because they KNEW they were going to have to go on the lam with boxes of paper clips!!!!!!!

When I question Cash about why she’s trying to hide the evidence (while secretly assuming she’s Becca’s accomplice), she tells me that, OF COURSE!, it would look strange to the police officers coming to question Bec about a robbery of an Office Store to have paper supplies everywhere along with suitcases waiting by the door! And so she has to get rid of the stash.

By the time Becca gets home, the apartment looks like a crime-free zone. And it’s then that she tells us about her brief conversation with Detective M.

Basically, he wants to some to see her tomorrow (Thurs.) morning to show her the surveillance photos they have and see if she could “identify” (aka: BE) the woman in question. Because the suspect had her exact same name, AND her exact same driver’s license number.


And we also found out that the thief didn’t steal supplies, she stole credit cards and checks from an Office Store employee. (This causes me relief. The office supplies in my apartment DID come from my mom’s friend! (Or did they? (No, they did.)))

Anyway, the rest of the evening was spent in conversation about what we would do if Becca’s taken to the slammer. Who would get her extensive Asian video collection? Who would handle our trip planning? You know, important questions like that!

I end up going to bed bummed that I have to go to work the next day and miss all the action. Cash will be there for moral support (since she’s between gainful employment right now) and will get to witness the conversation (aka: interrogation).

Part Three, tomorrow!

Friday, May 1, 2009

To Cut, or Not to Cut my Nunchuck Strings…

So, as some of you may know, I am a certificated nunchucker. Totally professional about it and everything! (What? I’m serious!)

And now that I’ve advanced to the wood nunchucks (with bruises to prove it), I’ve become a renegade! (The law frowns upon wood nunchucks in California.)

Our (Rachel, Katie, Heather and yours truly) Sensei has joked by saying that if our homes are ever raided by the police, we should have scissors close by to cut the strings so we’re not brought up on felony (I’m not kidding!) charges.

And we would laugh and laugh! As if we would ever have the Po-Po in our homes because of criminal behavior! (Sure, we might if we were robbed or something, but not because we’re law breakers. Ha!)

Well, yesterday my friends, I almost had to cut my strings!*

You see, yesterday my apartment had two detectives (from the O.C.) in it to question one of my roommates (aka: sister Rebecca) about a robbery of which she was the SUSPECT!


Wednesday, my parents had received a call from Detective M. asking if Becca (or Bank Robbing Bec, as I now call her) “has ever been convicted of a felony, because she sort of could be now, and could you please have her give me a call. Here’s the case number...”

(The detective called my parents instead of Becca directly because as part of her flouting authority, she never updated her driver’s license after moving out. Oh, what a tangled web we weave!)

You can imagine the affect this had on the parental units. (I’ll take “Panic” for 200 hundred, Alex!)

Immediately after hanging up with the police, my parents frantically call B. R. Bec at work, but couldn’t get a hold of her. So, they call my sister Cash (whose nickname is just coincidental…or is it?) who tries to call, but still no luck! So, Cash calls me, (because Bec and I work at the same university), and tells me briefly of the situation and what course of action I need to take: “Becca needs to call the police because she’s the suspect in a robbery of an Office Store**! Run over to her office a get her!!!!!!”

But, since I’m getting ready to leave, and don’t want to walk in the opposite direction to get Becca because I'm lazy, I decide it would be faster to call one of her co-workers, tell her it’s an emergency (without mentioning “jail time” )and “could she please interrupt Becca’s counseling session and put her on the phone!”

I then tell Bank Robbing Bec what I know. She’s stunned. (Or is she?) And eventually calls my parents to get the information.


*Instead, I opted to hide my nunchucks in my dirty laundry basket under a pile of my unmentionables.

**Since this is an ongoing investigation, I’m not giving the actual name of the store. I don’t want to have a reason for the police to come back and confiscate my nunchucks!