Category: blog

Last week, after a work meeting, I gave a colleague a ride to their next appointment. The next day, I received a call from a superior asking if I was in a relationship with the individual. I replied honestly, “No.”

 

A few days later, I shared the story with a coworker as  I gave her a ride to an offsite work event. “You’re like J. Lo. People see you out and about and immediately assume you’re in a relationship with whoever is with you. Next thing you know your picture is smeared on the cover of a grocery store magazine.” “If that’s true, you might want to make sure you smile because you’re the next person to get out of the car, thus be in a relationship, with me,” I replied.

 

We finished the offsite meeting and excused ourselves from it advising participants, “We’ve got rumors to spread and paparazzi to please.”

 

As we returned to the office, another coworker was leaving and pulled his pant leg up as though he was soliciting business. “How much?” I asked. “No wonder people are watching you,” the other coworker said while sneaking out the backseat. “Not ‘people,'” I replied and added, “The J. Lo Patrol. There is a difference.”

 

Once back in the office I decided to Wikipedia J. Lo and found we have some things in common. American. Actress. Dancer (don’t listen to what FatGirl tells you). Philanthropist (it’s for the kids). Her “public image and personal relationships have attracted worldwide media attention.” My public image and personal relationships attract social media attention. Oh, and Bradley Cooper.

A lot of people get worked up over the holidays. In fact, studies show that the pressure to give gifts, and the lack of money and time, results in over 50% of Americans feeling stressed. Luckily for me, I don’t feel pressure to give gifts and, with the end of the world looming, I’m draining my bank accounts, maxing out my credit cards and burning up all of my vacation. I’ve got the money, honey, and the time. The only concern I have is whether or not to wear something flame retardant on December 21st.

 

If, however, the 21st comes and goes without incident, I’m quite looking forward to Christmas Eve. While the majority of people get caught up in the gifts, thus, prefer Christmas Day, I prefer Christmas Eve and the true meaning of Christmas – the importance of travel and securing good lodging. Whenever I have the privilege of experiencing a long journey, it is comforting to know my hotel is four-star and less than $200/night.

 

With lodging deals like that, and my flame retardant attire, I’m more than ready for men bearing gifts and expect nothing in return.

 

While at the pub with BioMom, BeCuz, Sleepless, Oreggano and MiniMe, I noticed some oncoming traffic and quickly alerted Oreggano so she could appreciate it, “Ed Hardy action to your immediate right.” Oreggano turned to her right to find he had come to a complete stop right next to her. In addition to his Ed Hardy shirt, he was donning a beanie, jeans and Moon Boots.

 

He was an attractive, friendly, poorly dressed drunk male and spoke with us about matters that made no sense. At one point, he started rattling off names while looking around the table at us, “Corbin, Mike, Dave, Jeff, Larry…” We’re not sure if he thought we were those people or if he felt those names were fitting for us. He and MiniMe seemed to like each other, so we all kept an eye on things to make sure nothing happened beyond the name calling.

 

After Oreggano and Sleepless left, Oreggano told Sleepless, “Back in the day we would have thought that  guy was great. We’d have gone home and told everybody about this cool guy we met. He totally would have been our type a few years ago.”

 

Luckily, like wine, our taste gets better with age. It also helps that we’ve retired our beer goggles for a wine monocle, aka, the bottom of our wine glass. If we can see through the bottom of our glass, whether we’re seeing guys in Ed Hardy or our friends across the way, we’ve got a problem.

Several months ago I attended a charity event and walked away with a nine flight Thai dinner for twelve. If someone hadn’t outbid me on a previous item I would have driven away from the charity, with my dinner for twelve, on a Vespa. Fortunately for my bank account, I walked, didn’t drive, away with my dinner for twelve in hand and decided to plan a holiday dinner with 11 of my friends. Nothing says ‘it’s for the kids’ like twelve women enjoying nine flights of wine.

 

Due to the amounts of alcohol we would be consuming, BioMom, BeCuz, MiniMe and I decided to stay the night in a condo near the restaurant and utilize public transportation. As we were walking to the bus stop, BeCuz advised us, “Shit, I forgot my meds, but I’ll be OK.” “Will we?” I asked and then let BioMom know she and BeCuz would be sharing a room.

 

We arrived at the restaurant to find That’s Not Chinese, Unfazed, MyFace and Q enjoying pre-flight drinks. “You know we get nine flights of wine with dinner, ” I advised them. “Do we?” That’s Not Chinese asked and then advised the server, “I’ll have another glass.” That’s Not Chinese was clearly committed to Thai-ing one on for the kids.

 

We were soon joined by Oreggano, Sleepless, Professional and Standard Time, who also decided to enjoy a pre-flight drink. Once all of us had wet our pallets with an appertif or two, we decided we were ready for take-off and let the nine flights begin.

 

We were there just shy of four hours when we finally finished our flights and several of us were ready to call it a night – Thai-ing one on is not as easy as it used to be. “I’m not used to eating and drinking this much in one sitting. I mean, the drinking I can handle, but eating too?!?!” Oreggano commented. “Perhaps we should pub crawl and have another beverage elsewhere,” I suggested.

 

The remaining 3/4ths decided this would be a good idea, so we took our incomplete quorum and headed to the pub. We had to do it….for the kids.

I was chatting with a coworker who is extremely conscientious about what he eats. As we were chatting, I was finishing up some very salty tortilla chips, craving a little sea salt caramel ice cream and day dreaming. He advised me he will be participating in a sleep study and went on to discuss the importance of getting enough sleep. “How much sleep is enough?” I asked. “I don’t remember, but it is several hours,” he replied.

 

According to several studies, none of which I will cite because I am too tired to look them up again, the amount of sleep one needs varies from person to person. On average, however, adults need about seven to eight hours. I’m not sure if that is seven to eight consecutive hours or just seven to eight hours in a twenty-four hour period. If it is the latter, I’m good to go; I’ve ‘rested my eyes’ in more than one meeting during the day.

 

My coworker went on to tell me how sleep impacts metabolism, which in turn impacts body mass index (BMI). Those who sleep less have an increased BMI and tend to gain weight. Thus, more is less –  more sleep should equal less weight.

 

With this new information before me I decided to go to bed. No need to focus on portion control or exercise. Move over Jenny Craig! Or, just stay in the bed and we can cuddle because I am ready to sleep my weight off.

Four days ago began twelve days before I go on a trip. I arrived home from work on the twelfth day before to find a note:

 

It’s 12 days before your big trip,

and we wanted to surprise you,

so don’t give us any lip –

we’ve got 12 ways to say thanks for all you do.

 

Each day will have different prizes,

we may hide them on the stoop or in the box,

or there may be acts to surprise,

don’t try to catch us, we’re as fast as a fox.

 

Love,

Your Twelve Day Foxes

 

With the note was round, wrapped tube. I unwrapped it to find a Transhine Vintage Standing Mic. “Are you going to do a radio show?” Live Longer asked me. “Maybe,” I replied.

 

The next day I received a book and a bottle of wine. I judged both of them by their labels/covers, thus, loved them. Day three, a Trader Joe’s gift card and Candy Cane Joe Joe’s. Today, a box full of nuts (who doesn’t like that – especially when it involves Mr. Peanut himself), and Almond Roca. I feel so lucky to get to experience this Tripmas goodness.

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s you,” I told Sleepless on Day 2. “Really? Why do you think that?” “I just do,” I replied and added, “I recognize the wrapping paper from last year – I hold on to wrapping paper from people just in case something like this happens. Evidence.”

 

She never admitted her role. Thus, I may never know whether it is her, her and Oreggano, TooStalky, or others. Regardless, I’m thankful for my foxes and I’m really looking forward to “acts to surprise.”

 

Live Longer is appropriately named considering how she lives her life – she eats fruits and vegetables, doesn’t smoke, flosses her teeth, and has sex regularly. She has the latter so regularly – on Tuesdays and Thursdays between six and seven PM – that we now refer to that hour as ‘sex o’clock.’ “It just works out well for our schedules,” she advised us.

 

According to several studies, having more sex (specifically ‘satisfying’ sex two-three times a week) is a great predictor for longevity. In addition, it burns calories, lowers blood pressure, improves sleep, boosts immunity, and protects one’s heart.

 

Another heart protector, also a regular activity for Live Longer, myself and most of my friends, is drinking alcohol – specifically, wine. Turns out, however, we should all be having way more sex than alcohol. Too much alcohol (more than two drinks a day for women and more than three drinks a day for men) can cause weight gain and relationship/health problems. I must admit, I’ve never gained weight as a result of having sex. I have, however, gained weight from drinking. As I’ve said before, “I’ve gained a lot of weight trying not to get drunk.” That said, I’ve also gotten drunk once or twice and ended up with ‘relationship’ problems.

 

With this new longevity information before me, I’m thinking of instituting a new kind of happy hour: sex o’clock. “Drinks are on the house…the brick house, yep, that’s me!” Whatever that means.

 

 

Professional and I decided to spend one of the most magical days of the year and century, 12-12-12, enjoying a blue cheese bacon burger, rosemary garlic fries, and a couple of glasses of wine. Some may say this doesn’t sound too different from any other day of my life, but I must note that the bacon is house smoked, thus, very magical.

 

As we dined, Professional shared with me the joy she has experienced as a result of owning her car, “When you turn the steering wheel it is like you are gliding. Both the interior and exterior are so sleek, so sexy. I feel so good in it.” “You kind of sound like you’re describing a lover,” I observed. “I do have a great love for it,” she replied. “It sounds like a good thing for you. You never have to wonder where it may be, although there may be times when you forget where you parked; you pretty much go everywhere together; warms up your seat for you; has a nice trunk; good space and light in the glove box; goes fast or slow depending on your desires; responds to your needs; provides direction when you’re backing up. Need I go on?” I said. “No, I think you’ve highlighted some of his greatest strengths,” she replied. “It would be nice if he did a better job keeping criminals out of your belongings,” I advised. “That’s true, but they left behind what I love the most – my car. It’s pretty magical,” she said and then suggested we get back in it and head home.

 

We did, and I must say, it was a sweet ride – my ass felt great (and warm) the whole time.

 

 

 

When Live Longer’s husband dies, she plans to live with Oper. “Do you think you’ll have sex with her?” I asked. “No, I’m not like Sleepless,” she replied. I looked at her, perplexed, and she clarified, “I mean I don’t need sex every day.”

 

Sleepless does like sex often. She, Ice Cream Man and several others were recently discussing relationships when Sleepless got defensive and said to Ice Cream Man, “What the fuck!?!?” “Wow. I can’t believe you said that. I thought he (Ice Cream Man) hated that. Bet he doesn’t hate it when you say it in the bedroom,” I said sarcastically. “Funny you should mention that. He loves it in the bedroom,” Sleepless replied, quite seriously. “You’re a lucky man,” Live Longer advised Ice Cream Man and then shared her Oper sex story with them (if you’ve forgotten already, it is detailed above).

 

A few days later, I was with Live Longer, Sleepless and others at an art class. Live Longer stated she was late because she was getting her hair done. Although my ‘getting my hair done’ usually involves sex, her ‘getting her hair done’ appeared to be an actual use of the phrase. As Live Longer and I were chatting, I noticed something in her hair and attempted to remove it. She quickly grabbed her hair and asked, “What is it?” “Looks like a fuzzball,” I advised. “Oh, OK, because I stopped for some quick sex before coming over and worried it might have been something else,” she replied. “Something About Mary?” I quipped, she giggled and I asked, “Can I tell them?” “No,” she said shyly. “Can I put it in the blog?” I asked. “Yes,” she replied.

 

Turns out Live Longer is more like Sleepless and I than she thinks – she likes sex often and enjoys getting her hair done.

I was sitting in my car in the covered parking at work, sending a text or two before going in, when a coworker walked up, knocked on the window and said, “That only works in closed garages, not covered parking.” “What?” I asked. “Suicide,” he replied and walked away.

 

Later that day, I decided to attend a dance class in our building’s fitness center. Not wanting to worry about a locker, I decided to do something the guys in the IT department always do – change in the office. I only know they do this because they are in cubicles and I’ve seen them. Being that I am in an office, with an actual door, I decided to lock it and change. I was half dressed, thus, half undressed, when someone knocked on the door. “Hold, please,” I said and tried to expedite my wardrobe change. I opened the door to find the human resources director patiently waiting outside. Should have been an interesting wait considering I have windows. Luckily, they’re frosted.

 

I got to the dance class and found MissInformation ready and waiting. Unlike our human resources department, she has seen me, undressed, through unfrosted glass. We started dancing around and she started making disclaimers for me, “What happens in your office stays in your office…What happens in dance class stays in dance class…What happens in Virgin stays in Virgin…What happens in your box stays in your box.” “Stays in my box? Really?” I asked. She smirked, pivoted and repeated, “Stays.”