20170315

Now if I could just sleep...


I have long hated bedsheets, and I have gone to extreme lengths to avoid them. I'm referring to flat sheets specifically. The fitted sheet is easy enough to put on the bed (although it takes specialized knowledge to fold it correctly), but the top sheet is trying to kill me!

First I go crazy trying to get the thing all smooth and centered, then get a full-body workout trying to tuck it under my heavy mattress properly, but the worst part is actually sleeping under it. The sheet and the blanket have some conspiracy going to destroy what is left of my sanity after attempting to make my bed: The blanket will start inching toward one side while the sheet creeps off the opposite side. Every time. They could at least have the courtesy to fall off the same direction. Well, I've had enough.

I finally made the switch to a duvet, and I was so excited when my duvet cover arrived (from Europe, I presume)... until I tried to put it on. At first it appeared to be just a sheet, which was exactly what I was trying to quit, so I got a little panicky, turning it all around and trying to find a magic opening. Where do you put the duvet in?? Finally I found a small opening and realized the buttons were hidden on the inside. Strike one, duvet cover. (Not because hidden buttons aren't genius, but because you tricked me.) Then I realized my duvet was two inches longer than the cover, yet two inches narrower. So it's going to be like that, huh? Did I just trade one conspiracy for another? Images of lumpy, saggy bedding flashed through my mind. Strike two. I started to suspect that duvets were going to disappoint me just as much as sheets and hammocks and the floor.

In the end, the size difference didn't seem to be problematic, and while making the bed still drove me a bit mad on my first try, the sleeping insomnia experience is so worth it. I can toss and turn until morning light and not have to wonder where my covers went. I think it's going to be okay.

But one more strike and you're out.

20170222

I Should Have Stayed a Temp


Well, apparently I spoke too soon... a day after my last post, my boss announced that I was permanent! Hooray! Meaning that my hours will be cut because now that I'm eligible for benefits, my position is over budget. Wait... is this how promotions work? Unless I have other insurance...? This is definitely not how negotiations work. Oh and it turns out there is a retirement benefit too! Anything else I should know?! And permanent is just nominal anyway because my position will still be eliminated when we restructure. Nice to know I'm finally being valued here.

20170215

Seniority Rules

Tomorrow is my boss's last day which means that I'm going to be the employee who has been with the organization the second-longest. But that won't stop me from being a "temp"! Hilarious.

20170208

Casual Friday Style Tip: Choose One or More |Shoes| |Pants|


I got rather soaked in the rain on my ride to work on Friday, so I asked my coworkers: Must I wear pants? "TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS!!" they demanded in unison. I was wearing leggings, after all, and with my long cardigan, that's practically acceptable. We weren't expecting anyone to stop by, and if they do I'll just stay at my desk with my legs hidden underneath. Okay, maybe they weren't leggings so much as long underwear... you know, the pants and matching shirt that look like kid pajamas? And you know I was wearing the matching shirt. With my jeans drying on the coat rack, everything was going comfortably until the pizza guy showed up and I remembered we ordered pizza using my card. I tried to sign the receipt from my desk, but then it was awkward that I was making everyone come to my throne like I'm some kind of monarch, so I stood up reluctantly to hand the receipt to the pizza guy smirking at my long underpants with socks scrunched over that I just realized were no longer hidden by my rain boots thus firmly rendering my entire outfit completely inappropriate loungewear and now I don't like that pizza anymore.

20170201

Beauty is in the Eye of the Ombre Shadow... Apparently


The last time I really got into makeup was probably in high school. In my old age, I've gotten stuck in my primitive routine of no mascara, exactly two lipsticks I rotate (when I can be bothered to wear it at all), neutral eyeshadow applied with a Q-tip when the applicator that came with it fell apart, and the same drug store foundation I've been wearing since middle school, applied with my fingers. And in the rare times when I feel the itch for something new, I simply hit the Clinique counter at Macy's during the bonus giveaway, and get out of there.

The other day I went to a specialty cosmetic shop and WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THIS PLACE?! Did there always exist such an assortment of tools for eyebrows alone? I don't remember half of these beauty products. These "sculpting powders" are not ringing a bell either... shading and highlights on my face? Am I not 3D enough in the natural?? And apparently I'm supposed to be applying primer (yes, primer -- with a paintbrush, no less, but don't ask me which one of the thirty options -- or maybe that odd-shaped sponge?) to my face before the over-makeup. It's like extreme makeover but I can't tell if it's home edition or not! Are we remodeling the house or getting ready to go out for a few hours?? I mean, I'll use a base and top coat on my nails (and I have no idea about this gel and shellac business) because I expect it to last a week. When my face makeup starts lasting a week, then I'll consider primer. (And hygiene, maybe.)

If I used all these products, it would take hours to put my makeup on! If it takes more time to apply and remove my makeup than the time I'm going to be wearing it, I'm out. Plus, the last time I was into makeup the sales associate wasn't a boy in bright pink lipstick explaining how mattes require a lot of prep. I know we're supposed to be politically correct these days, but I kind of feel like I got schooled. But now I'm really curious just how much more 3D I can get...

20170125

I Was Awesome As A Baby


I don't know anything about what I was like as a baby because my mom always mixes me up with my brother. And by "mixes up," I mean she only remembers him. She says I was "old hat" by the time I came along, but I have a lot of vintage hats and they're pretty memorable. Like, one of them is entirely covered with black feathers and fishnet. You don't see hats like that anymore. My mom has never exactly been the fashion ninja in the family, so no wonder my fleek baby self didn't make a lasting impression on her.

20170118

Security

About once a year I have to get my credit union to reset my password for online account access because their system is archaic, and this time the lady made me attempt to answer my security questions in front of her. I'm not sure which one of us was more embarrassed...

What was your dream job as a child? My dream job? At which moment in time? Gymnast, I typed. Wrong. Librarian. Error. Hairstylist. Nope. Wait, let me try one more... Construction worker. After that she took the keyboard away from me. She graciously deleted that question but now I am dying to know what I put. Clearly I had gone through some phases, but there was never any one career I had my heart set on. The answer was probably "Nothing." Duh.

Next, What is your favorite beverage? Water was a fail. After my poor performance on the first question, the teller didn't even give me another chance. I knew it wasn't Water but I didn't want her to judge me if Gin succeeded.

Where was your favorite place to vacation as a child? First of all, this question is a microaggression against the economically disadvantaged. Did we even go on any repeat vacations? Who chose my questions?? Then again, it's not my fault that they're all subjective. I guess that's supposed to make your account more secure. In my case it's more like a super strict budgeting system.

They should really let me write my own questions, because my first one would be What is the answer to your security question? and I would be so perplexed, I would probably submit some nonsense like Kuboaa that would end up being the correct answer and my password.

After failing to remember a single one of my security answers, the computer concluded that I am an idiot unworthy of online credit-unioning in the first place and denied me access at every opportunity. Two tellers and three new passwords later, I could finally login again, but I was required to set up no fewer than five new security questions! I did myself a favor and wrote down my password for once, because by this time next year I am never going to remember who I currently consider to be my kindergarten teacher or the author of my favorite book. Don't even try to steal my thousands of cents, guys. They are locked up behind riddles and no one has the key.