Month: June 2009

When they let me rule the world

You know, I’m sure those people in power are doin’ the best they can, but I think…there could be improvements.

My “to do” list when they hand me the scepter and carte blanche to run the universe.

  1. Butter, heavy cream, sugar, simple carbs of all stripe and marbled red meat will become health foods. Vegetables, fruits, and fiber will be “forbidden” and will make you pale, wan, and cranky.

    On this plan, I will be supermodel skinny.

  2. Supermodels will be made illegal.
  3. Legal disputes will be handled using parenting styles from the 1950’s. “Shame on you for punching your brother and shame on YOU for telling.” Both parties get a swat on the ‘tocks and are sentenced to digging postholes (or digging trench, judge’s discretion).
  4. Teachers will make the salaries that current professional athletes make. Professional athletes will make the salaries that current teachers make.
  5. Joe Buck will get a sense of humor. Also Joe Buck and Tim McCarver don’t get to call any more games. Ever. Any game. Regardless of sport or level. Ever. And I get to be the one to fire them. On the air. In the most humiliating fashion possible. And then they both have to go dig postholes and string a mile of barbwire fence.
  6. The knobsack at work who uses the Sharpies in the supply room, thus dulling the tip, then slips them back into the stack with the new pens will be *severely* chastised, up to and including termination. This is unacceptable behavior.
  7. The media will be held responsible for what they report. Fear mongering, blowing things out of proportion, and more than one mention of Brangelina (or similar) in a single day will result in severe disciplinary action.
  8. Work weeks will be two days long and weekends will be five days long. And we all get all the holidays off work. Cinco de Mayo? Yup. Yom Kippur? Indeed. Secretary’s Day. Of course.
  9. If people need to take a sick day, they can take a sick day. No harm no foul, only support and backup. People are expected to take the time to take care of themselves.
  10. Wars and world disputes will be fought and decided by lining up plastic green army men behind dirt and sand “bunkers” on a playground located in neutral territory. Battle will continue until 1) all army men are lost in the sand, 2) the players are tired and hungry, after which a designated “mom” will make spaghetti for everyone and there will be a sleepover, and/or 3) both sides erupt in giggles and decide instead to play flag football.
  11. “I agree to respect your beliefs if you agree to respect my beliefs” will be the world religion. This will be mandatory.
  12. Anyone who is hungry will be able to eat. Anyone who is broke will be able to find a job. Anyone who is a knobsack will be ostracized until they can figure out how to treat people with respect.
  13. Cancer will be cured. HIV won’t exist. Parkinson’s will be dunzo. MS, over! Lou Gehrig’s gone. COPD and Pulmonary Fibrosis, fughtettaboutit. And all other debilitating, unfair and unkind illnesses will be at thing of the past.
  14. Everyone gets a slice of cake, every day. With real buttercream frosting. And anyone who wants a corner piece can have it.
  15. This list will be subject to revision and change, by me, at any time, with no prior notice by the party of the first part, this agreement supercedes all previous agreements, Force Majeure is in effect, caveat emptor, ad hominem, e pluribus unum, carpe diem, and let’s all have some fun, ai’ight?

Didja ever…

Have a meal so good, you actually missed it when it was gone?

Yesterday, The Good Man and I spent the morning on house clean up. We’re still going through boxes and boxes of “combined home” items, getting rid of stuff, repacking, cleaning up storage, all of that.

By lunchtime, I was sweaty, my back hurt, and I was hungry. I had a hankering for a tasty sandwich, and remembered that a local spot, Max’s, has a good offering.

I’ll spare you all the gory details and cut to the chase. Max’s serves up a very, very nice Reuben. I mean the kind with the perfectly toasted rye bread, melty cheese everywhere, tart sauerkraut, delicious salty corned beef and thick thousand island.

Oh yeah, baby!

Served with cucumber salad on the side, TGM and I dove in with gusto. So delicious.

When the feeding frenzy was over, bellies round as we pondered the world around us, the TGM said it, “that was good….I wish I’d eaten slower…I kind of miss it now.”

Truth is…today, I still kind of miss that sandwich.

Now that there is the sign of some good eats.

I’m *certain* we both worked hard enough all morning to justify the outrageous calorie consumption…right….?

Didn’t make the cut

For those wondering, I did not make the final 25 stories in the Tweet Me a Story contest finals.

No worries! It was fun and thanks again for all the votes!

And as they tell school children these days, EVERYONE is a winner!

It’s just that *some* of us are, you know, less winner-y than others.

There’s an art to it

One of my coworkers, a friend, actually, has been on an epic year-long journey to launch a new, company wide system. This is huge stuff…stressful, hours of work, and it went live yesterday.

That meant he had to stay at work very, very late last night to see this thing through with all the IT folks. A long night.

Being the kind, supportive coworker that I am, on my way out the door at 5:00, I stopped by and said, “Hey, *you* have fun tonight! Me? In about a half an hour I’m going to be drinking Sangria over a really good dinner.”

My coworker looked up from his computer, and, peering over his glasses said, succinctly, “up yours,” then turned back to work.

You know, you don’t really hear a good “up yours” anymore these days.

In those two words, he told me off, steered clear of HR violations, and conveyed months of exhaustion.

Well done!

I think people have lost the talent of telling someone off. You get too many rambling diatribes (“you know what you are? You are a bunch of……”), too much eff word use (“effing muther effer eff eff eff”), too many attempts to make it into a deep insult (“yo mamma!”)….it’s all just unoriginal work.

I feel like the tell off is a lost art.

A clean, simple, well spoken “up yours!” conveys quite a bit.

As with many things, simplicity is elegant.