Smarm Alarm

I had a meeting with aforementioned subject of business lessons (name withheld to protect me from Google) and made the mistake of telling Abigail about it. She was very insistent that I get a picture, and although we came up with some incredible, daring plots to get said picture, it didn't work out (mostly because all of our plots ended up in huge disaster scenes of get-away chases and falling down). However, I would hate to disappoint my reading audience, and so I roped a co-worker into a little amateur modeling. Without further ado, I give you Steve as the smarmy business man:

How to Create the World's Best Crappy Cup of Coffee

1. Want Coffee at 3 in the afternoon. Look in coffee pot and realize it was made at 6:00 in the morning.
2. Not Care.
3. Decide that luke-warm coffee isn't good enough. Old and burnt, sure. Luke-warm, no.
4. Put in microwave and decide on two minutes.
5. Immeadiately regret decision.
6. Clean up boiled over coffee and start over.
7. After coffee is heated, add sugar and about a cup of Coffee-Mate to add subtetly to the bark-like flavor.
8. Drink as quickly as possible in order no to destroy tastebuds.
9. Begin stomach ache.

Can You Say Control Freak?

Amanda just informed me that apparently my blog wouldn't allow you to post comments unless approved by me. Let it be known that this was because I don't seem to know what "Moderate Comments" means and I just click yes at random. Sorry about that. It has been fixed...

Germophobia Or How I Contracted the Bubonic Plague

You may or may not remember a previous post in which I said that I didn't care if the house was teeming with germs as long as it looked clean. This is, however, no longer the case. In fact I have been continually resisting the urge to do some Adrian Monk style cleaning of my car, bathroom and bed, and have to remind myself that I don't want to give into the slippery slope of germophobia.

That is until today. Today I snapped. It all started with Jelly Bellys. I know what you are thinking. Probably something along the lines of "Cate, seriously enough with the Jelly Bellys", but really they are a very significant part of my life and if you can't see that, then I don't even know you anymore. Anyways, we are attempting to save the boxes of Jelly Bellys for a promotional program coming up, but they were being quickly eaten by all the guys in the office. I had one of the guys tape them up securely in order to keep the guys out, but this has also unfortunately kept me out of them too. Today I decided that I was IN CHARGE of the Jelly Belly promotion and I could have some Jelly Bellys if I really wanted them. So I snuck into the sealed boxes, pulled out a secret stash of Jelly Bellys and resealed the three layers of boxes protecting the magic beans. Then I took them out of their little bag, spread them in a single layer on my desk and covered them with a flyer so that Steve wouldn't know and I wouldn't have to share. I got a phone call and had to stop my snacking in order to talk, and while I was talking I looked over at the distant reaches of my desk, only to discover (prepare yourself) mouse poop. Eww. Eww Eww Eww. It was disgusting and gross and implied that a mouse and his little disgusting feet had been crawling around on my desk. The desk that had spread across its surface my precious Jelly Bellys. Eww.

And then the germophobia really hit. The mouse had probably been on my chair, and my keyboard, and my mouse (haha). I was sitting in a virtual pool of Bubonic plague. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the first thing in a spray bottle I could find. It happened to be Windex. I then sprayed Windex on everything I own. This turned out to be a bad idea, as wooden desks and leather chairs and lamps don't particularly like Windex, but it had to be done. After I finished I washed my hands, then took out my trash (he had probably been in there) then washed my hands again. And again. The bottle of Windex is now positioned strategically on my desk in case there is still a spot of disease waiting to attack. The bubonic plague could still be nestling itself happily in my stomach because of the desk-infected Jelly Belly's, so I'll keep you updated. I'm going to go home and vacuum the curtains or something.

Built Ford Tough

My Christmas present from my sister Afton was a ticket to the Professional Bull Riders "Built Ford Tough" series for its one weekend in Southern California. This post would be a thousand times better if I could have remembered my digital camera, but alas, I did not. Lets just say you would have been getting some very up close and personal shots of the bull riding geniuses because I MET THEM!

I've never been a sports fan. I have two sisters, no brothers and a Dad who laments our inability to do such basic tasks as throw a ball or fill a car with gas (I know the last one doesn't really count as a sport, but somehow I feel they are related). I've been to a few minor league baseball games, an Angel's game and a total of two highschool football games, and there my sports going ends. This however, is about to change. I knew the moment the initials U.S.A lit up IN FIRE across the arena floor that I had just become a sports fan.

PBR introduced me to the glory of sports: the yelling, the cheering, the booing, the emotional involvement in a thing that ultimately doesn't matter to your life in the slightest. It has all the excitement of relationships (including hot guys) with none of the risks. Its amazing. And you get to eat 5 dollar hot dogs and not care that you just spent five dollars on a hot dog because you got a free souvenir soda cup. Now I'm just counting the days until the boys and bulls come back to town.

PBR Quotes of the Night:

"What "Girls Gone Wild" is for men, the PBR is for women."

"In keeping with our cowboy theme we should go see Brokeback Mountain." -Amanda
"Don't ever say that again." -Afton

Valentines Day Exploded in Our House

Tips on How to Get Business Update: I Take it all Back

Dear Adam of Kent Landsberg Co.,

I am sorry, Adam dear, for calling you smarmy. I didn't know how you felt, really. But today when I got to my desk, saw your beautiful face on yet another card, and gasped at the collection of See's lolly pops you left, it became clear. The lovely note you left on the heart shaped sticker made my heart melt: "Use our tape, bags and twine, and you'll always be my valentine!" You too Adam. You too.

Erin with a Parakeet on Her Head

Freezer Fortress

Fridays are my stay at home and work days. My roommates all leave for various classes and such, and I buckle down and try to get through some of the reading constantly begging for my free time. Today I was doing just that, and I realized it was about lunch time and I was hungry. I knew my lunch was waiting for me in the freezer (Trader Joe's Pad Thai is better than Popcorn Jelly Bellys), and so I went to get it. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any actual food because the 18 gallons of ice cream we keep in there were blocking the way, trapping lunch behind their creamy behinds. We have six people who live in this house, yet we have eight gallons of ice cream, a huge bag of ice cream popsicles, and what looks like frozen cream puffs hiding behind that. This is what happens when girls no longer have their mother shop for them:

The Unforseen Dangers of Education