This is akin to what happens when I go to DQ

Be sure you have the sound up...

Things I have learned this week, version 2.0

1. Never get a temporary tattoo.

2. If you do get a temporary tattoo, do not try to scrub it off with the same thing you use to clean dishes. Unless you want to take a layer of skin off of your hand.

3. Be glad you did not get said temporary tattoo on your face.

4. If the weather is warm enough for you to wear a skirt, expect a lot of attention from the guy in the drive-through window when you get a smoothie.

5. If you have a new volunteer begin, don't expect them to stop talking.

6. When referring to #5, don't expect to get any work done, either.

7. My cat is addicted to cake doughnuts. They're like his crack. Note to self: never bring doughnuts home again, if I want any for myself.

8. The weather is psychic. Whenever I go for a walk, it will start pouring the minute I am out the door.

9. Number 8 also applies to the only time I go without a raincoat.

10. If your partner dislocates his rib, and then sneezes, it will pop back into place. So buy pepper just in case.

Really...I'm not making these up!

If your life was a movie...

...which one would it be?

This question was being discussed by a group of female coworkers of Mr. RK today.

One said, "The Hangover." Another said, "A Series of Unfortunate Events." Another, who is pregnant, said, "Knocked Up."

And one said, "Deepthroat."

They all laughed, until they saw Mr. RK, and then they all blushed.

So Mr. RK asked me, "How about you? One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest?"

"Hey!" I replied. "Because of my job (mental health advocacy), or because of me personally?"

His answer: "A little of both."

TTTThhhhhhhhhhhhpppppppppppppppppppttttttttttt.


But anyway. I started thinking it would be a good idea for a blog post. And then I started thinking that all of my favorite movies, well, wouldn't really fit:

Dead Again (Zombies?)

A Charlie Brown Christmas (a little 2-dimensional)

Four Weddings and a Funeral (I'd have a ways to go, hopefully)

Debbie Does Dallas (Ok, just kidding. I've never been to Dallas. Except to the airport. And we won't talk about that. It wasn't *that* long of a layover.)

Ratatouille (No.)

Spiderman 2 (also no.)

I asked, "What's yours? Hellboy?"

He said, "No. Blazing Saddles."

How about you? If your life was a movie, what would it be?

I hope my family doesn't read this

So before every event I do for work, I spend several days secretly worrying that something is going to blow things up. You know, alien and zombie invasions...or, worse, the port-a-potty people will forget to show up.

Coincidentally - or not - I've been having some really weird dreams. OK, really weird sex dreams, specifically. It's like my brain is playing tricks on me, because this happens when I get really stressed out.

I had one particularly graphic one about a college guy who works at his family's restaurant - and I had the dream the night before I had dinner plans there.

I told my friend on the drive over and she burst into giggles. We get there and - of course - he's our waiter. And he's super chatty. And he starts talking about a human sexuality class he's taking.

Seriously? God is up there laughing at me, I can tell.

At this point I want to slither under the table and just die (I couldn't even look him in the eye when I ordered food), and my friend is cracking up.

So as we drive away she says, "I wouldn't mind having a graphic dream about him!"

I tell the story to a mutual friend, and she says, "I wouldn't either!"

So now I can never go there again.

Or I can, but I'll have to wear a bag over my head and ask his mom to wait on us instead.

Anyhow, question - has anyone heard of the acronym F/U standing for anything but, well, FU?

I got an e-mail from one of our event volunteers today and it said, "F/U today, so everything's taken care of."

It took me a minute to realize she meant "followed up."

Then another volunteer wrote about donations and said, "I think I'm tapped out...unless I get some I don't expect."

Yep, it's all about sex. I hope my family doesn't read this.

For days like this, there is DQ

That's right, Dairy Queen.


I do four or five events each year at work (depending on whether the legislature is in session), and during event week, I let myself eat anything I want.

This week, it has meant DQ.

You remember a children's book referring to a no-good, horrible, very bad day? Today wasn't that bad...but just GRRRR.

First off - I take time from work, which has been busy, busy, busy working on this weekend's event, to go out and talk to a group of people about the event. Or so I was told. I get there, no one has been told I'm coming (including the center coordinator), so I am led to interrupt two art classes and try to talk about the event. People just look at me and keep painting.

I go to acupuncture to relax. It's 55 outside and the air conditioning keeps coming on.

I then get a call from a state legislator informing me that someone who volunteers for a chapter of our organization that's several hours away has been angrily harassing legislators who are not planning on coming to this weekend's event. Which is in the middle of budget session.

And she is on the big budget committee.

Fuck.

I really, really want popcorn or sesame noodles as my comfort food, but I can't have them for 10 days because long story short, stress has been making my gums (which were doing well) worse.

Double fuck.

And then I get a barrage of e-mails from a married ex-friend in New York (who is an ex-friend because he has been inappropriate, and is married) after a year or so of silence.

Triple fuck! And not the good kind of fuck.

AND it's supposed to rain on the day of the event.

And I forgot one of our awesome volunteer's birthdays.

I'm going out to dinner tonight, because God knows the house would probably burn down if I tried to cook.

A shout-out for the lovely Ms. Claire

Here I am, all nerves about the weather and hoping the port-a-potty people don't forget to show up next week, when I have the big event for work.

But I realized it's nothing compared with the huge task my lovely friend Claire took on for charity.

She did a fundraising "Moonwalk" to help fight breast cancer, and raised more than her goal! You go, girl!

This wasn't just any walk - it was the length of a marathon, at night, through London. Plus, she made it through despite a bad reaction to the food they got at the beginning.

I'm a complete wimp. I'd have probably turned back after the bad pasta, or, more realistically, asked someone else to walk for me ;) And I definitely would have said "fuck" a lot.

Anyhow, this is a special cause for me, as my grandmother was a breast cancer survivor. You may see lots of pink ribbons now, but twenty years ago, it was nearly almost a fatal diagnosis.

Because of people like Claire, raising money and awareness, breast cancer is now front and center. By the time Grammy was diagnosed in 2002, there were options for treatment and survival.

I am happy to support you (and thanks for supporting my event, too!) and proud you are my friend. Hope it won't be too long before we get to meet in person.

Congrats, Claire!

I just shouldn't be allowed in public.

Those of you who have Trader Joe's in your area probably love it as much as I do. Lucky for me, there is one 10 minutes from where I live and about a mile from where I work.

I had a weird experience at the work store a couple of days ago. While in the checkout line, the conversation went like this:

(Male)Checker: "Did you just move here from the west side? I remember seeing you at the west side store."
Me: "No, but I work nearby."
Checker: "You know, it's weird, I've had, like, three customers move here from the west side. And they all pointed out that they knew me at the other store. Which was kind of weird."

(Hello...isn't that what you just did?)

Me: "Yeah, weird."
Checker: "And what's really weird is that I have this friend who does his hair like I do, and has sideburns like I do, so sometimes people confuse us."

(Why, exactly, do you think I give a flying fuck?)

Me, right before I walk out the door: "Yeah, people confuse me for other people with brown hair and big boobs all the time."

I just shouldn't be allowed out in public sometimes.

Real questions and answers

Once again, it's nearing event time. The one coming up is our biggest all year (2,000+ people) and it's the biggest event in my field in the state.

I'm running it. Needless to say, you'd think that would mean people would know not to ask me, say, for rides to and from cities three hours away so they can attend.

Nope.

So here are a few real questions and answers (and demands):

"I need a ride from City of E (three hours away)."
Do I look like a taxi cab? Seriously, I have to plan an event for 2,000 people, but I have time to take you and pick you up.

"Will there be ice cream again this year?"
Yes.
"How about cookies?"
Yes.
"What kind?"
Nabisco.
"How about water?"
No, I want people to get dehydrated. These are five minutes of my life that I'll never get back.

"Will you have a shirt in my size?"
What size is that?
"Depends on how the shirt fits, or if it runs large or small."
Why don't you show up early and try them ALL on.

"Will there be lunch?"
Are you fucking kidding me?

There is one guy who asks to have a table every year, and every year I tell him (nicely) no. There are more than 2,000 people, I cannot give each participant a table.

So this year he asks one of my committee volunteers.

I wanted to yell, "Hey, dipshit! The answer's still NO!" The same guy brought an unexpected guest to an RSVP-only formal luncheon. While I managed to seat the guest because someone got sick and couldn't make it, dipshit man had the balls to ask why they couldn't sit together.

It reminds me of a game my dad used to play when we were little and would nag him about things. He'd ask, "Do you want your answer loud or soft?"

I did get one very sweet e-mail from a lady asking if she could bring her dog to the event. "He's very well-behaved, has been to doggie daycare, and is very social," she wrote.

I wanted to write back, "Wish all of the people who show up that day would be as polite as your dog!"

Observations

Years ago, Saturday Night Live had a skit called "The Planet of Honest People." The setting: a board room. Someone announces that someone else got a promotion. The co-workers chip in: "I wanted that job!" "I hope you do really badly!" I think it was Kevin Nealon that asked a co-worker on a date after the meeting. She replied, "Actually, I'm just after cheap sex."

I remembered this skit tonight as I was leaving a meeting where I had been invited to present. I was promised would "be quick." I figured it would take about 20 minutes. It took over an hour.

Things I have learned this week:

People who say, "I'm so sorry to bother you," really aren't.

Ditto about people who bombard you with questions and say, "I hate to keep you..." They really don't.

I'd much rather live on the Planet of Honest People and have someone be honest and say, "I'm going to totally waste your time." And "I know you want to leave, but I don't give a flying fuck."

Wouldn't you?

Wouldn't that be great?

And no, the lolcat has nothing to do with this post, I just liked it.

I can't say anything new

about the death of "that man," as a friend put it so well.

But needless to say the past 25 hours have been weird. I didn't sleep a lot last night, mainly because I was thinking back to the horrific events of almost 10 years ago.

I lived in New York City for three and a half years - I went to college there. I didn't go "home" during the summers; I lived there year-round. So when 9/11 happened, three and a half years after I moved back to the West coast, after the disbelief passed, it was like someone had blown up my home. Like someone had ripped out my heart.

For my friends that live there, it was like someone had ripped out their guts.

The past day's events have made me think about all kinds of stuff from that time - the months of flinching every time the phone rang, every time I saw a plane flying low. The months of nightmares that I was running from buildings falling down. The F16s flying over my house at night. The realization that the shops and cafes I used to hang out at, with my ex who worked downtown, were charred and gone and that somewhere among the ashes, there had been people. Flying in and reconstructing the skyline in my mind. Carrying a portable radio in my car.

And the few weeks of general kindness right after it all happened.

I went to get mashed potatoes at KFC; the checker said, "God bless you."

We were overwhelmed by generosity for the survivors and their families.

We tread lighter. We realized that most of the daily bullshit was unimportant.

That couldn't last - but why can't we have it back? Why not channel that deep-seated human compassion and goodness and kindness and live like that every day? Why does it have to take a tragedy?

Maybe, one day, it won't. What if we channeled that energy and ended hunger and suffering around the world?

Just because we choose not to do it doesn't mean it's impossible.