You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘general tomfoolery’ category.
Tomorrow (Friday), I will have been alive for 25 years. Ho-ly shit, y’all. That is a lot of Amanda time and I’m not so sure how I feel about it.
I’ve always been the baby.
But now I’m old, and my vocabulary is more likely to include the words: Escrow, mortgage, HMO, pantsuit, and atherosclerosis. Other likely candidates? Red Lobster, Prilosec, and Rite Aid.
Regardless, I will now write a tribute to myself. That’s only fair, right? It’s been a good quarter-century.
Some important milestones:
- I have seen approximately 87 Jack’s Mannequin shows.
- I’ve visited 27 states, 3 continents, and 10 countries. Booyah.
- I became a vegetarian. And then I stopped.
- I learned how to be a lady from one of the greatest women I’ve ever known.
- I changed my hair color no less than 7,000 times. It’s a bit of a Christmas miracle.
- I left everything familiar and moved to the West Coast.
- I got Scuba certified.
- I was the Maid of Honor in my sister’s wedding.
- I went to the Sundance Film Festival. Benjamin Bratt refused to give me his autograph.
- I learned how to ask for a raise. And how to get it, frick yeah.
- I held a lot of spectacularly awful jobs and had batshit crazy roommates. Someday I will write short stories about them, David Sedaris style.
- I haven’t grown up.
A few things I have learned lately:
1. Managing another person is a learning experience on both sides.
2. Sometimes I take myself too seriously. But life is so much more fun when I don’t.
3. Before I left for Egypt, I couldn’t imagine what it would even feel like to get off the plane. Me? In Africa? At the Great Pyramid, or let alone any of the seriously ancient temples? I couldn’t fathom it. That trip is still so surreal, but now I can’t imagine not going there.
Are you paying attention to the news? I was standing in Tahrir Square just five months ago. My time there connected me so deeply to the belief that regardless of nationality or locale, we need to pay attention. I include myself when I say this: Americans are notoriously guilty for their limited worldviews. The world is big, but so, so small. I can’t wait to experience more.
4. On a related note, I’ve been ruminating on a sentiment my sister has said many times, “Some people choose to spend their money on fancy shoes. I choose to spend my money on experiences.” Yes.
5. “Shits” is a valid word in Words With Friends. Triple word score for that one!
6. Craziest thing ever, ever: these fish are born female and then metamorphose (that is the coolest word ever – only took me three tries to get the exact verbage right!) into males when they’re 7 or 8 years old.
That’s right. I’ll let you ponder that for a minute. BECAUSE THAT IS CRAZY!!!! And I am not one to throw around exclamation points. Honestly, it blows my mind. Life! Hah! Holy hosannah.
7. Bridesmaids is the best movie of the year.
I have no idea what day it is any more. Did you know that it’s May? I feel like I say that everyday, but the fact that we’re five months through the year already astounds me. AS-TOUNDS.
The other day I was being all pissypants and quiet in the car, and I saw a flock of birds in the sky. Is “flock” the correct word here? Flock? School? A gaggle? Yes, so as I was saying, I was being melodramatic when my boyfriend looked over and asked me, “Do you know why sometimes when birds fly in a ‘V’ pattern, one of the sides of the ‘V’ is bigger than the other?” I said no, thinking he was going to craft some dirty joke. “Because there are more birds on that side,” he said. I don’t think I’ve stopped laughing about that in three days. Do you get it? More birds on that side! Maybe you had to be there.
Somewhat exciting things are happening but I feel like I can’t blog about them. That is very hard for me, let me tell you. I want to write all about this weird meeting I had with a Hoity Toity CEO who continuously quoted Shakespeare and quasi-erotically pet his golden retriever all throughout our talk, but, oh look! I just did.
I don’t really understand the fascination with the show Glee. There, I just said that, too. I was in a high school show choir but I don’t find the show at all relatable. Perhaps it’s because my memories of that time mainly involve me belting out horrendously wrong notes and getting in trouble for laughing all the time, not about the rivalry with the cheerleaders. Huh.
My hair is getting long. I need to stop eating desserts. What’s your favorite clothing store?
Something very odd happened yesterday.
At work, I handle several requests for marketing materials and information every day. Usually this is done via email, but occasionally I send things in the mail when they’re requested.
Last week, I sent a customer a package of information. A day later she called and said she hadn’t received it; I casually told her to wait until the end of the day in case it came in that day’s mail. No big deal. However, she mentioned that she had received some Indiana Jones Lego toys. I thought that was strange, but not wanting to question why she felt the need to tell me about the contents of her mailbox, I politely said, “Oh, okay. Well, please let me know if you haven’t received my package by the end of the day.” And that was that. I didn’t hear back from her, so I didn’t give it another thought.
Until yesterday. I heard someone come in the office and ask for me by name. We normally don’t get visitors (especially unannounced), so I was confused. I went out and greeted her, and upon first glance, she held up a well-used ziplock baggie full of Legos. Okay.
She displayed the baggie for me as if she was presenting for show-and-tell. In my head, I thought, shucks, those aren’t cool Legos at all, they look like they’ve been mangled by a dog. Then I snapped back to reality and realized I was at work, in a professional environment, being confronted by a grown women with a bag of dirty Legos.
She presented me with the manila envelope that did indeed have my writing on it as well as my company’s return address label. She said, “This is what came in the mail,” briefly paused, and – wait for it – then asked, “Is this what I was supposed to receive?”
Let me tell you something. I have this weird habit of believing whatever people tell me, and I’m not just saying that. My friend was once making fun of me for being gullible and joked that a “second Mars” had just been discovered, hadn’t I seen the front page of the newspaper? I said, “No, wow!” and quickly began shuffling through the papers on the coffee table. I realize this story might be something I should keep to myself, but it gives you a better picture of the way my mind works. So naturally, when this lady told me I sent her Indiana Jones Legos, I thought back on my actions and wondered why I had done that, how crazy of me! Me and my Legos, woops!
You’ll be happy to know that I did not fess up to sending her the Legos because, well, I DIDN’T SEND THEM TO HER! I told her, “We don’t sell that product here.” As if some other company turns a profit on selling used, bacteria-laden Legos in a plastic baggie. I told her that yes, it was my writing on the envelope but that I personally stuffed the package myself and put it out for the mail carrier. There’s pretty much no way that there was a “mix up” unless there are small gnomes running around the office replacing business packages with plastic children’s toys.
In the end, I was able to give her copies of what she had initially requested – and what I had sent to her, no doubt. I’m pretty sure what happened was that her husband or children received my package, took out the material, and used the envelope to store their filthy Legos. And when she arrived home, she saw the package with the Legos and jumped to the conclusion that that’s what I had sent her. I’m not sure why I’m trying to analyze this.
Nevertheless, everyone in my office had a good laugh the rest of the day. I’ve already added a bullet point on my resume for “Responding to all requests for information by sending Legos.” And when I got to work this morning, this little treat was taped to the underside of my phone:
Because she was at least nice enough to let us keep them.
My boyfriend and I are going through a difficult time. Up until now, we’ve certainly had occasional disagreements – he doesn’t like the combination of peanut butter and chocolate, I’m prone to simply setting the new roll of toilet paper on the counter instead of taking the time to put it on the roll – but we’ve endured.
Alas, some things are just deal breakers.
Despite being an on-again, off-again vegetarian throughout many years, I love bacon. Loooove it! Like, grease me up with some Pam and let me rub my body against some bacon, unnnh, hip thrust, unnh.
Sorry for that visual.
So needless to say, I was a bit upset when the following conversation took place. And I’ve been having to re-evaluate what I consider “deal breakers” in my book… How would this make you feel? Keep in mind: this happened right before I was going to bed, after we had had a lengthy discussion about the day’s events.
me: I have to bring home the bacon
boyfriend: take a guess at what I ate today
me: 15 dollar hamburger
boyfriend: I ate…
me: the cat!
boyfriend: chocolate covered bacon
me: no you did not
boyfriend: I really didn’t think I did, but once it was in my mouth there was no mistaking it
me: I can’t talk to you anymore
boyfriend: anthony had a piece so I took a small square
me: why was this not the first thing you said to me?
boyfriend: kinda tasted like chocolate covered bacon bits
boyfriend: I forgot
me: this is a problem
boyfriend: it happens
boyfriend: don’t be mad
boyfriend: I love you bacon lips
Chocolate covered bacon? This is a combination of the two greatest things known to man (well, besides The Real Housewives of Orange County, Lady Gaga, and guinea pigs, but I digress).
Ugh. We’re trying to work things out.
I was having a casual conversation about my bad sense of smell with my coworker today – you know, the friendly everyday banter about the five senses – when she remarked that she is really in tune with scents. Naturally, I began wondering if she could smell my occasional office farts. I’m normally most gaseous in the evenings, but sometimes things happen, you know.
Anyway, as I was having this lengthy monologue in my head, she suddenly said, “When I get nervous, I sniff my arm.”
“Wait, you SNIFF your arm?” Yes! She does! She sniffs her forearm, much like one does in Macy’s when trying on Mariah Carey’s new perfume. I have never heard of this nervous tic before, as I’m sure you can see by all of the exclamation points I am using! Being a pretty anxious person myself, I thought I was aware of all of the signs of nerves and anxiety. To me, it looked like she was always just wiping her snotty nose on her sleeve.
Then she told me that her mom chews on her hair when she gets nervous. I think I did this when I was about 7 because I thought it was cool for some reason – like, “Hey, this grows out of my head! Let’s put it to use!” So I can’t judge her too harshly.
But having a coworker who smells her arm intermittently throughout the day? That takes some getting used to.
As many of you know, I was supremely addicted to Mario Kart Wii earlier this year. So much so, in fact, that I would find myself strategizing about launching turtle shells at slow cars when I was driving on the freeway. It became a little unhealthy, much like my Harry Potter craze a few years ago when I would walk outside and see a black dog and swear that Sirius Black was in my neighborhood. Maybe you didn’t need to know all that.
Also, as you may know, I get Very Into Holidays. So naturally, I had my Halloween costume picked out in July.
Every time I play Mario Kart, I am always Luigi, so it was a no-brainer that that’s who I would be. And my boyfriend, Jason, was a very good sport in assuming Mario’s role even though he’s not much of a fan of wearing red.
I wore my costume to work on Friday, and let me just tell you: there’s nothing quite speaking with a customer on the phone who has no idea that the person they’re speaking to on the other line is wearing adult-size overalls and a mustache.
We visited a local mall on Halloween and felt like local celebrities. The lady who took this picture had actually just excitedly run up to us to ask if she could get a picture with us, and we got accosted by a group of 12-year-olds in Target who wanted pictures with us as well. We gave them bunny ears.
A couple of people also did the oh-I’m-just-taking-a-picture-of-this-tree-you’re standing-behind nonsense because they were too shy to ask us to pose for them. There’s no telling how many awkward pictures of us there are on the internet. I’m just happy I was wearing gloves so I can rest assured that I was probably not caught picking my nose.
Highlights: an old lady in Target who giggled at us, a trick-or-treater who specifically asked if Luigi “could hand her the candy,” and the fact that Jason’s overalls were Osh Kosh.
Last night I lost my earthquake virginity. Yep. I’ve been in California for more than three years and it wasn’t until 8:39pm on Sunday night that I felt my first tremors. My bed started shaking and I’ll be honest, at first I thought I had just let out a huge fart. The shaking continued for about 10 seconds, though, and that’s when I realized something was up, ’cause even on bad days my farts only last about 5 seconds. I’m unable to act normal during most situations, so I immediately flung open the door to my bedroom to go see if the Roommates I Never Talk To had just felt the magical plate techtonics shift that I just had! To make a long story short, no, they hadn’t felt anything. One was still making spaghetti and the other was on the phone, so they just gave me the hairy eyeball as I looked at them with wide eyes and a questioning expression that was supposed to translate to, “Did y’all just feel that?!” I retreated back to my room with my tail between my legs, but still feeling victorious that I had felt my first earthquake and lived to tell about it.
In other news, hi, it’s 1:03am and guess what I’m doing? Not studying for exams would be the correct answer! Instead, I am trying to come up with new looks to spruce up my drab cap and gown. Here’s a snippet of what’s going on up in here tonight. This is me and my obese stuffed penguin, Petri, and I think he just might walk at graduation with me.
Think you have swine flu? Feeling a bit nauseated and occasionally emitting a faint “oink” sound?
Well, consider this my gift to you: www.doihaveswineflu.org.