Category Archives: Things I Hate

Mean Girls.

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I’ve never been a bully.

I mean, sure, I’ve had my mean girl moments. I’ve said unkind things. I’ve gossiped. I’ve watched other people do mean things and, to my own ever-lasting shame, done nothing to stop it.

I’m not perfect. This post is not about me talking about how nice and wonderful I am.

What I have been is extremely fortunate in terms of bullies and mean girls. I survived middle school and high school with good memories and no scars. No one really ever picked on me in earnest.

I like to think that there was just something about my personality that gave off the impression that I wasn’t a victim. I might be a little nerdy and have my own insecurities going on, but make no mistake — I am not to be trifled with.

In all honesty, I think I was just not that threatening in terms of the things girls get threatened by. (The blessings of being a late-bloomer.)

Because of this fairly friendly introduction I had with the world, I find that I am repeatedly stunned when I encounter mean girls and bullies as an adult.

Don’t get me wrong — I know there are mean people in the world. I watch The Real Housewives. I occasionally turn on the news for a second before getting depressed and turning it off a few minutes later. (To watch more Housewives.)

But even though I consider myself a rational person with realistic expectations of humanity, I find that I am still surprised when I come across someone who is nasty, cruel, or entirely inconsiderate as a grown-up.

And yet. I encounter mean girls and bullies at work. I encounter mean girls and bullies in acquaintances. Heck, I would need at least both hands and possibly my feet to count the number of “friends” I’ve had over the years who have turned out to be mean.

And every single time, I’ve been completely shocked.

I mean, don’t you usually grow out of being an a-hole? Isn’t that what our parents always told us would happen?

Fair warning, folks: It doesn’t always happen. (And if Dance Moms is any indication of the future, we’re got whole new generations of awful heading our way.)

On the bright side, I’m not the only one who gets it. I mean, this woman gets it. (And by it, I mean, that being a mean girl is not the best way to accomplish anything except hurting other people. It doesn’t make it easier to work together, it’s not good for business, it doesn’t solve any problems.) All being a mean girl does is create more mean girls. Or destroy more nice girls, depending on how you look at it.

Maybe I’m just a really bad judge of character, and that why I’m always caught unawares. Or maybe I’m really trying to assume the best of people.

I don’t know how to conclude this post because there isn’t really a solution here. I’ll keep trying to be a nice girl without being a doormat. If I have a child one day (and I hope to), I’ll do everything in my power to help him or her turn out kind too.

Because, really, Regina George is the only Mean Girl I have any interest in having in my life.

Sicky poo.

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Well, this weekend was by no means the most fun two days I’ve ever had, but it was entirely necessarily. Let me break it down for you.

Remember on Friday when I was all, “Yo peeps, I think I’m comin’ down wit somethin.”

What, you don’t remember me getting gangsta on you? Well…we’ll just agree to disagree.

The fact is, I told you I thought my body might be trying to get sick. AND I WAS RIGHT.

I spent the rest of Friday feeling progressively worse. And considering the number of people in my office who have recent contracted the flu, I didn’t need a medial degree to read the signs. Achiness? Check. Sore throat? Check. Chills? Check. General run-down-edness? Double check.

I ended up leaving around 4 p.m. in an attempt to get home before it really set in.

But what is the true sign that I was really not feeling well?

I FELL ASLEEP ON THE TRAIN RIDE HOME.

The long-time readers of this blog will realize what a feat this was. (Um, hi post I wrote in April of 2010 about this very topic.) When I told my husband what I had done, he got a look of genuine concern and said, “Oh man, you must really be sick.”

Turns out I had a fever of almost 100 degrees. So…yeah. I was.

When I got home (and I have to mention this because it will please my mother to no end), I took this medicine that my mom swears by to prevent flu-like symptoms from evolving into full-blown flu, Oscillococcinum. If you’ve never heard of it, it’s pronounced oh-sill-oh-cox-ih-num, and it’s some kind of homeopathic medicine that looks and tastes like sugar crystals. The crystals come in these tiny tubes, and if you feel the flu coming on, you’re supposed to pour one of the tubes out under your tongue and let the crystals dissolve. You do this every six hours until symptoms subside.

I have no idea how or why it works (I don’t have a medical degree, remember?), but it has never failed me. Highly recommend it if you’re getting the flu.

Anyway. Back to our story.

I then proceeded to loaf on the couch until 10 p.m., where upon I promptly fell asleep for over thirteen hours.

Let that sink in for a second. I slept for over half a day. Until almost noon the next afternoon. This from a person who has trouble sleeping passed 9:30 on a day when I’m genuinely tired.

I felt worlds better after my mini coma ( and no longer had a fever), but I wasn’t exactly doing cartwheels just yet. And despite all the sleep I got, I still dozed a bit throughout Saturday and didn’t really leave the couch except for emergencies. Saturday night, I slept nine hours. (Yeah, all this sleep was kind of glorious.)

By Sunday night, the only remnant of my sickness was some congestion and post-nasal drip. Which, while not ideal, is bearable.

Honestly, I know there is never a good time to get sick, but this really wasn’t the worst time. I didn’t start feeling really bad until Friday, so I didn’t have to miss any work, and I was struck on the one weekend this month that I had zero plans to begin with. (Well, that’s not entirely true. We were supposed to go to a concert on Saturday, and we had to skip it. But Joey was able to sell the tickets, so even that wasn’t as bad as it could have been.)

And considering the busy schedule I’m looking at through the next month, a weekend of almost thirty hours of sleep ain’t too shabby. That’s a part-time job’s worth of sleep right there.

So anyway. Today, I’m feeling much, much better besides the lingering congestion. And hoping that now that I’ve had my seasonal fall cold and my brush with the flu, I’m officially done getting sick until my seasonal spring cold.

Anyone else get the flu? Apparently it’s a pretty big thing this year? Everyone’s doing it, as it were?

Reporting from the gas lines.

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I’ve been waiting in line over two hours for gas.

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I want to give you a second to wrap your mind around that. The worst part? This is the second line I’ve waited in this morning.

I’m in a line of at least 50 cars, all with our engines off, and every five minutes or so, start our engines again so we can move up five feet. We do that every five minutes or so.

Things got hairy a few minutes ago when the line didn’t budge for about twenty minutes. You could smell the panic over the gas and exhaust fumes.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve probably heard how the areas most affected by Hurricane Sandy have been suffering from a gas shortage. Lines have been approaching the 3-hour mark since early last week, and though supposedly we will be “back to normal” by tomorrow, I haven’t seen any signs of that yet.

I mean, people are driving to Connecticut to get gas. That makes more sense for some people than waiting in these lines.

Of course, that’s assuming the gas stations around you have power and gas and even have lines for you to wait in.

Live update: I was looking down at my phone and didn’t notice that the car in front of me had moved up three feet. Someone shouted at me, “Could you move up, please?!”

These are crazy times, folks.

On the upside, it looks like I’m actually going to get gas within the next half hour or so (ugh). And there are apparently 28 million gallons of gas hitting New York today. So we should, theoretically, be back to normal by tomorrow.

Because, if not, so help me…

In which I release all my feelings about The Walking Dead

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Listen…we need to talk about something real quick. And that something is the AMC TV show The Walking Dead.

The third season just started a couple of weeks ago, but Joey and I just started watching it a little over a week ago from the beginning.

Suffice to say, we’ve finished the first two seasons in that time and will most likely be completely caught up by the end of the day. We. Just. Can’t. Stop. Watching.

The two of us getting hooked on a television show is not a rare phenomenon. And one of our favorite ways to pass a weekend is watching a season or two of a show we like in one sitting. (The cheap thrill of no commercials just never gets old.) So why is TWD blog-worthy?

Well…I’m not sure. I think it has something to do with the fact that I can’t figure out why I like it.

I mean, the writing is terribly predictable. (Sometimes Joey or I will actually say the character’s line out loud seconds before they do. We know what they are going to say.)

And, especially in the first season, the acting is not that stellar. (Has anyone else noticed that every character has about one expression? Dale had that wide-eyed “you just ate my lunch right in front if me” stare, Shane was always sporting that slack-jawed mouth-breather thing…it’s distracting.)

And, historically, I hate gore of any kind. (Though, to be fair, the “gore” here is pretty campy. In a few scenes, it’s blatantly chocolate sauce, not even bothered to be colored red.)

Plus, it has to be said, every character is annoying at least once per episode. (Well, except Darryl. He seem to be the only one with any real sense about anything. If he turns walker on us, we should all just give up.) But for the most part, they’re all just so dang stupid and careless.

Here are three live-saving lessons I learned in the first, oh, ten minutes of the show:

1. Stop wandering off by yourself. Stop going anywhere by yourself. Ever. NO EXCEPTIONS.

2. Walkers are not capable of sneaking up on you given the fact that they are never seen not moaning or gasping or growling or dragging their feet or bumping into things or generally making feral animal noises. AND YET, they have snuck up on no less than a dozen people in the last two seasons. I think everyone just needs to start paying more attention.

3. Everyone needs to start taking the whole “keep an eye on your children at all times” thing a little more seriously. I mean…really, you guys. We’re in the zombie apocalypse here. Can we please stop assuming Carl is in his room like you told him to be?

There are a lot of other issues I could list about specific characters (I’m looking at you, Lori), but I don’t want to spoil anything if you haven’t watched it yet. (If you have watched it…email me. We shall discuss.)

Anyway, the point is, I’m don’t think everyone in the show is taking their situation seriously, despite being painfully over-dramatic about everything. It’s a weird juxtaposition.

So, again, why can’t I stop watching?

I posted something about the show on Facebook last night, and my friend Lindsey compared the show to a car wreck. It’s so bad, but you can’t look away. (Though she might have been referencing the gore.)

Joey and I describe it like this: The show is more like a movie than a television show. It’s not a plot line that can be sustained for nine seasons, or whatever. It’s basically a long-form thriller. It’s based on a graphic novel (that I haven’t read), which doesn’t necessarily mean it will end as quickly as the writing it’s based on (Gossip Girl proved that to us all, amiright?), but it’s worth noting that the original story (I assume) had a more succinct beginning, middle, and end than a standard television series. (If someone has read the novel and I’m way off base, feel free to correct me.)(WITHOUT REVEALING ANY SPOILERS OR I’LL HATE YOU.)

What all that adds up to is that in my brain, I’m watching a long, intense movie and I just need to know how it ends. I have a lot of questions, especially after Jenner’s secret was revealed and that mysterious helicopter made its second appearance and Andrea met her new friend in the woods. I JUST NEED ANSWERS.

And I’m probably going to keep on watching until I get them. Which, I would imagine, was the desired effect.

Do any of you watch The Walking Dead? Do you share any of my annoyances or theories? Are you equally, though inexplicably, obsessed? OBSESS WITH ME.

How embarrassing.

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I’ve mentioned before my phobia of being embarrassed. It’s probably the thing I am most afraid of, that gives me the most anxiety when I imagine encountering it. (Well, that and cockroaches. I’ve often said — and meant — that if I found a cockroach in my apartment, he would get the apartment.)

My fear of humiliation manifests itself in bizarre ways sometimes. For example, even if I know the answer to a publicly asked question (and know that I know it), I’ll usually keep quiet on the off-chance that I’m somehow wrong anyway and don’t want to be called out on it.

Another situation I can just barely stand? Going around in a circle and introducing yourself in front of a group.

Yup, I’m saying that one of the most anxiety-producing situations I can experience is having to say my name.

Told you it was a little weird.

As long as I can remember, I’ve dreaded that moment on the first day of school, the first meeting at a new company, etc. the bigger the circle and the longer I have to imagine what could go wrong, the harder my heart pounds.

Why am I so freaked out? I’m worried I’ll say the wrong name or mess up my own an everyone will laugh at me.

THAT IS LITERALLY THE ENTIRE BASIS OF MY PHOBIA.

It’s a little pathetic, right? I mean, I don’t consider myself an insecure person. I should be able to handle misspeaking and everyone getting a little chuckle out of it.

I was going to say, “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? I stutter over my words, everyone laughs, and we love on.” But the fact is, yeah, that’s the worst that could happen. I can feel my face burn and my stomach fill with butterflies even just thinking about it happening.

Why am I dwelling on this (somewhat ridiculous) phobia? Because yesterday, my entire department had to introduce ourselves to the head of our company, a woman whose name I can almost guarantee you know, a woman who’s a celebrity in her own right and whom I admire and respect and am more than a little intimidated by. And not for nothing, but she’s also a woman who has made it clear she suffers no fools and doesn’t have time for people blathering all over themselves trying to string a few words into a sentence.

So, yeah, I was a little nervous.

I’m going to throw out a spoiler here and tell you it all went fine. She was very nice to me, and a managed to spit out my name, title, tenure with the company, and what I was working on without any embarrassing stammers or awkward phrasing. (I know, you guys! Someone should really get me a medal.)

Unfortunately for me, I think this is just one of those phobias that will always be in the back of my mind. The trick will just be learning to overcome it. (Hint: I’m a big fan of practicing. You know I had rehearsed my little “what I’ve been working on” shpeel.)

Ok, now. Let’s go around the room an everyone say what they’re afraid of so I feel better about my own fears.

SEE WHAT I DID THERE?

But seriously. Spill!

Rawr.

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UGHHHH.

I wrote an entire post on my fear of going around in a circle and introducing yourself (including a fun anecdote about work yesterday where I met the head of our company), and I typed the whole dang thing on my phone, and then my phone deleted it.

I’m furious.

But also not awake enough to re-type it right now. Sorry. Maybe later.

I just wanted you to know that I tried, you guys.

**UPDATE! A few of you awesome peeps received the post in an email (yet another reason why you should all subscribe to the blog…just sayin…) and sent it to me. Special thanks to Annie, Michelle, and Susan’s mom, Gayle. You’re all awesome for pointing this out to me. ENJOY THE REAL POST HERE.