Sunday, September 30, 2012
Gender Bender
One interesting side benefit of my doctor visit on Thursday is that I found out my insurance company thinks I'm a girl. Much like the insane gym teacher from fourth grade who tried to make me do a cartwheel on a balance beam. I could barely even handle Olympic arms. But anyway, when I checked in on Thursday, the dour-looking girl at the reception desk called me back up there (after I'd already settled in with an Us Weekly detailing Amanda Bynes' troubles) and explained to me confidentially that my insurance had somehow coded me as female in their system.
"So you probably want to give them a call and fix that," she advised.
I did not, actually, but for fear of being subjected to a pelvic exam, I called my insurance company on Friday. While they readily conceded the point that I am in fact male, they claimed to be helpless to change anything without a directive from the state. But never fear, they referred me to someone. Who referred me to someone. Who put me on hold for ten minutes before transferring me into the automated system, where I pressed 0 over and over until I finally got someone else. Who then referred me to my local benefits officer.
I explained my situation, which I'd actually gotten very good at boiling down into a punchy sound bite over the course of sixteen some calls.
"Who?" the sassy assistant responded, in a bit of conversational kung fu, since I had not in fact mentioned any persons or organizations of any kind.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm not sure I understand. I'm calling about my insurance info?"
"I know that, but WHO am I talking to?" she responded, as though I'd just threatened to murder her and everyone she cares about.
"I'm Jay Sch..."
"I got it. I got it. Hold for a minute."
Ten minutes elapsed. She then got back on the phone and, without preamble of any kind, went into a lengthy diatribe about how I must have filled out the insurance paperwork incorrectly. Right, that's it. It was all part of my master plan to be humiliated by a medical receptionist and then repeat the story endlessly to hostile customer service representatives. And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for you meddling kids.
Anyway, I've now officially been designated male by my insurance company. If there's a more productive way to spend a Friday afternoon, I can't think of it.
One interesting side benefit of my doctor visit on Thursday is that I found out my insurance company thinks I'm a girl. Much like the insane gym teacher from fourth grade who tried to make me do a cartwheel on a balance beam. I could barely even handle Olympic arms. But anyway, when I checked in on Thursday, the dour-looking girl at the reception desk called me back up there (after I'd already settled in with an Us Weekly detailing Amanda Bynes' troubles) and explained to me confidentially that my insurance had somehow coded me as female in their system.
"So you probably want to give them a call and fix that," she advised.
I did not, actually, but for fear of being subjected to a pelvic exam, I called my insurance company on Friday. While they readily conceded the point that I am in fact male, they claimed to be helpless to change anything without a directive from the state. But never fear, they referred me to someone. Who referred me to someone. Who put me on hold for ten minutes before transferring me into the automated system, where I pressed 0 over and over until I finally got someone else. Who then referred me to my local benefits officer.
I explained my situation, which I'd actually gotten very good at boiling down into a punchy sound bite over the course of sixteen some calls.
"Who?" the sassy assistant responded, in a bit of conversational kung fu, since I had not in fact mentioned any persons or organizations of any kind.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm not sure I understand. I'm calling about my insurance info?"
"I know that, but WHO am I talking to?" she responded, as though I'd just threatened to murder her and everyone she cares about.
"I'm Jay Sch..."
"I got it. I got it. Hold for a minute."
Ten minutes elapsed. She then got back on the phone and, without preamble of any kind, went into a lengthy diatribe about how I must have filled out the insurance paperwork incorrectly. Right, that's it. It was all part of my master plan to be humiliated by a medical receptionist and then repeat the story endlessly to hostile customer service representatives. And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for you meddling kids.
Anyway, I've now officially been designated male by my insurance company. If there's a more productive way to spend a Friday afternoon, I can't think of it.
Thursday, September 27, 2012
In Sickness & In Health
Well, I'm sick. No one seems to be sure exactly what it is, but it feels like Carnie Wilson is sitting on my chest. My guess is that an alien is going to burst out of there at any moment, which is frankly one of the cooler ways to go. I saw the doctor today and he threw out a variety of guesses, which I could actually have done all by myself, but he wasn't super definite about anything. The good news about the uncertainty, though, is they're pretty much treating me for everything. I came home with enough pills to host Paula Abdul in my home for a week. And as a result, I already feel a bit better. I even went to the gym tonight, although I used my illness as an excuse to not run particularly fast or far. That's the best of both worlds, really.
I did have to take the day off from work today. I have to say it's really awesome to do that when you can actually take the day off and not just deal with people's irrational calls and emails from home for ten hours. Instead of reading grainy PDFs of people's edits to briefs that will likely never be filed, I actually did things that would help me feel better, like napping, going to the doctor, and watching The Best of Amy Poehler on Saturday Night Live on VH1. Oh, and eating sandwiches. The healing power of sandwiches is well documented.
Now I have to go take a pill that my doctor warned me would "seriously knock me out." Given that a half dose of Nyquil throws me into a two-day coma, this should be interesting.
Well, I'm sick. No one seems to be sure exactly what it is, but it feels like Carnie Wilson is sitting on my chest. My guess is that an alien is going to burst out of there at any moment, which is frankly one of the cooler ways to go. I saw the doctor today and he threw out a variety of guesses, which I could actually have done all by myself, but he wasn't super definite about anything. The good news about the uncertainty, though, is they're pretty much treating me for everything. I came home with enough pills to host Paula Abdul in my home for a week. And as a result, I already feel a bit better. I even went to the gym tonight, although I used my illness as an excuse to not run particularly fast or far. That's the best of both worlds, really.
I did have to take the day off from work today. I have to say it's really awesome to do that when you can actually take the day off and not just deal with people's irrational calls and emails from home for ten hours. Instead of reading grainy PDFs of people's edits to briefs that will likely never be filed, I actually did things that would help me feel better, like napping, going to the doctor, and watching The Best of Amy Poehler on Saturday Night Live on VH1. Oh, and eating sandwiches. The healing power of sandwiches is well documented.
Now I have to go take a pill that my doctor warned me would "seriously knock me out." Given that a half dose of Nyquil throws me into a two-day coma, this should be interesting.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
In Which I Use Lots of Proper Nouns Not Recognized By Spellcheck
So I've been reading "Top of the Rock," the Warren Littlefield book about NBC in the '80s and '90s. I'm enjoying it a lot, despite the strangeness inherent in reading a book about television. It takes me back to a simpler time, when hammer pants were haute couture and a little band called Chumbawumba was tearing up the airwaves. It reminds me of watching A Different World secretly on mute in the basement because my parents thought it was dirty. It kind of makes me want to ask my stylist for "The Rachel."
Mainly it's interesting for the tidbits about weird casting that almost was, such as Nancy McKeon playing Monica on Friends and Teri Hatcher starring in Mad About You. There are also fun behind-the-scenes anecdotes about things like Wings being generally terrible and Kelsey Grammer being on a lot of drugs. And then there's lots of random bitchiness about how nobody "gets" how difficult it is to develop TV programs and how NBC is totally in the crapper now. I wouldn't call the latter part a surprise ending, exactly.
And the best part is I'm only about halfway through, so I still have a lot to look forward to. I'm really hoping for some behind-the-scenes dish on Suddenly Susan.
So I've been reading "Top of the Rock," the Warren Littlefield book about NBC in the '80s and '90s. I'm enjoying it a lot, despite the strangeness inherent in reading a book about television. It takes me back to a simpler time, when hammer pants were haute couture and a little band called Chumbawumba was tearing up the airwaves. It reminds me of watching A Different World secretly on mute in the basement because my parents thought it was dirty. It kind of makes me want to ask my stylist for "The Rachel."
Mainly it's interesting for the tidbits about weird casting that almost was, such as Nancy McKeon playing Monica on Friends and Teri Hatcher starring in Mad About You. There are also fun behind-the-scenes anecdotes about things like Wings being generally terrible and Kelsey Grammer being on a lot of drugs. And then there's lots of random bitchiness about how nobody "gets" how difficult it is to develop TV programs and how NBC is totally in the crapper now. I wouldn't call the latter part a surprise ending, exactly.
And the best part is I'm only about halfway through, so I still have a lot to look forward to. I'm really hoping for some behind-the-scenes dish on Suddenly Susan.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Celebrating Perfect Love, Part 127
Another wedding this weekend, this time in Milwaukee, or as I call it, Milwaukee. I'd never been there before, so that aspect was interesting. We stayed in a big old hotel right downtown that is supposedly haunted, although not by Jessica Lange. Actually, it seemed to be haunted by the ghost of reasonable prices, as the three sodas we charged to the room after hours somehow ended up costing less than $2 total. The reception was also downtown, in this huge, gorgeous space called the Grain Exchange, which did not seem to actually have anything to do with grain. Also, the food was amazing -- a duet of steak and chicken with a sauce I would seriously like to bathe in. So all of that was good.
The wedding itself was at a Lutheran church out in the suburbs. Frankly, I have a lot of trouble differentiating among different Lutheran churches. This one had a couple of jumbotrons in the front and a setup for like a 5-piece band, though, so on production values alone they've got us Catholics beat. Although transubstantiation is one spectacular piece of stagecraft, I must say.
We also checked out their local art museum -- the spindly white one that sort of looks like a giant coelacanth landed on the waterfront. The building is really something, frankly. The exterior sort of demands that you take pictures of it (much like Paris Hilton circa 2005) and the interiors have great views and are filled with natural light. The collection is not quite as good as the building -- a smattering of antiquities, some B-sides from people like Picasso and Chagall -- but still worth seeing. And it's small enough that I didn't end up exhausted and footsore, as often happens to me at the Art Institute.
My main note for Milwaukee, though? Be less cold. Or give out free sweaters. I generally wear a large.
Another wedding this weekend, this time in Milwaukee, or as I call it, Milwaukee. I'd never been there before, so that aspect was interesting. We stayed in a big old hotel right downtown that is supposedly haunted, although not by Jessica Lange. Actually, it seemed to be haunted by the ghost of reasonable prices, as the three sodas we charged to the room after hours somehow ended up costing less than $2 total. The reception was also downtown, in this huge, gorgeous space called the Grain Exchange, which did not seem to actually have anything to do with grain. Also, the food was amazing -- a duet of steak and chicken with a sauce I would seriously like to bathe in. So all of that was good.
The wedding itself was at a Lutheran church out in the suburbs. Frankly, I have a lot of trouble differentiating among different Lutheran churches. This one had a couple of jumbotrons in the front and a setup for like a 5-piece band, though, so on production values alone they've got us Catholics beat. Although transubstantiation is one spectacular piece of stagecraft, I must say.
We also checked out their local art museum -- the spindly white one that sort of looks like a giant coelacanth landed on the waterfront. The building is really something, frankly. The exterior sort of demands that you take pictures of it (much like Paris Hilton circa 2005) and the interiors have great views and are filled with natural light. The collection is not quite as good as the building -- a smattering of antiquities, some B-sides from people like Picasso and Chagall -- but still worth seeing. And it's small enough that I didn't end up exhausted and footsore, as often happens to me at the Art Institute.
My main note for Milwaukee, though? Be less cold. Or give out free sweaters. I generally wear a large.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Revenge Redux
I've been watching the Revenge DVDs in preparation for the new season to start at the end of this month. So if you haven't been watching Revenge, well, A) you really should, and B) you won't have any idea what I'm talking about here, sort of like when I accidentally pick up a Kardashian-heavy issue of Us Weekly. Instead of reading this you should probably write a 1000-word essay about what integrity means to you or something.
Anyway, it's pretty good even on repeat viewing. I did start to get a little bored at times (i.e. whenever Declan and Charlotte were on the screen), but I was surprised by how many little plot twists I'd already forgotten about. I don't think I should probably be feeling suspense with regard to a show I've seen in it's entirety. My reactions to most things were the same: I still hated Tyler, I still found Ashley to be useless, and I still wanted to cut Nolan's hair like crazy. But the love triangle is actually a lot more interesting when you aren't completely distracted by all the other plots, and I really noticed that girl from Everwood's (she'll always be the girl from Everwood) a lot more, in a good way, not a Rosie O'Donnell in Riding the Bus With My Sister kind of way. Oh, and Victoria's upper lip -- what happened?
I've been watching the Revenge DVDs in preparation for the new season to start at the end of this month. So if you haven't been watching Revenge, well, A) you really should, and B) you won't have any idea what I'm talking about here, sort of like when I accidentally pick up a Kardashian-heavy issue of Us Weekly. Instead of reading this you should probably write a 1000-word essay about what integrity means to you or something.
Anyway, it's pretty good even on repeat viewing. I did start to get a little bored at times (i.e. whenever Declan and Charlotte were on the screen), but I was surprised by how many little plot twists I'd already forgotten about. I don't think I should probably be feeling suspense with regard to a show I've seen in it's entirety. My reactions to most things were the same: I still hated Tyler, I still found Ashley to be useless, and I still wanted to cut Nolan's hair like crazy. But the love triangle is actually a lot more interesting when you aren't completely distracted by all the other plots, and I really noticed that girl from Everwood's (she'll always be the girl from Everwood) a lot more, in a good way, not a Rosie O'Donnell in Riding the Bus With My Sister kind of way. Oh, and Victoria's upper lip -- what happened?
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Another Line Crossed
I set a tape for a Lifetime movie on Friday night. I realized that it was wrong, but it starred Mischa Barton and the previews looked crazy over the top, so I just had to have it. (By the way, when I just googled Mischa Barton to make sure I was spelling her name right, the google suggestions were "Mischa Barton fat," "Mischa Barton weight gain," and "Mischa Barton weight," so maybe she needs to fire her agent.) As it turned out, however, "Cyberstalker" was no "Homecoming."
First of all, Mischa was playing the heroine in this movie, not the villain, and it's just a lot less believable that way. To be fair, she's not incredibly convincing as a human being to begin with, but I frankly found it difficult to relate to her when she wasn't tying people to beds and breaking their legs. Also, the movie starts when her character is in high school, and they opted to have her play it herself. They just kind of stuck her in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit and some headphones and gave her a Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper. It did not work. And it was very important to the premise of the movie that computers are magic and can do anything -- from changing a traffic signal so someone is run down by a car to unlocking the doors in your hours -- in a matter of seconds. They kept underlining this by having Mischa say things like "You know me: low tech or no tech" and "I thought you were a technophobe, like me." In the end, the movie did sort of turn me into a technophobe, because it made me want to cancel my cable.
Important note: the movie also starred Dan Levy, Eugene Levy's son, who first came to my notice as one of the stars to The Hills Aftershow. Yes, someone who used to spend half an hour each week minutely dissecting the happenings on the least eventful television show of all time as though it were Gravity's Rainbow has managed to parlay that into an acting gig. In fact, I also saw his co-host on an episode of Degrassi, so THA is really churning out some powerful alums. Now if only Heidi and Spencer could get work.
Anyway, I'm not proud of my actions, but at least I didn't buy it on DVD. I'm pretty sure you can legitimately be subjected to civil commitment for such actions in at least thirty-eight states.
I set a tape for a Lifetime movie on Friday night. I realized that it was wrong, but it starred Mischa Barton and the previews looked crazy over the top, so I just had to have it. (By the way, when I just googled Mischa Barton to make sure I was spelling her name right, the google suggestions were "Mischa Barton fat," "Mischa Barton weight gain," and "Mischa Barton weight," so maybe she needs to fire her agent.) As it turned out, however, "Cyberstalker" was no "Homecoming."
First of all, Mischa was playing the heroine in this movie, not the villain, and it's just a lot less believable that way. To be fair, she's not incredibly convincing as a human being to begin with, but I frankly found it difficult to relate to her when she wasn't tying people to beds and breaking their legs. Also, the movie starts when her character is in high school, and they opted to have her play it herself. They just kind of stuck her in a Catholic schoolgirl outfit and some headphones and gave her a Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper. It did not work. And it was very important to the premise of the movie that computers are magic and can do anything -- from changing a traffic signal so someone is run down by a car to unlocking the doors in your hours -- in a matter of seconds. They kept underlining this by having Mischa say things like "You know me: low tech or no tech" and "I thought you were a technophobe, like me." In the end, the movie did sort of turn me into a technophobe, because it made me want to cancel my cable.
Important note: the movie also starred Dan Levy, Eugene Levy's son, who first came to my notice as one of the stars to The Hills Aftershow. Yes, someone who used to spend half an hour each week minutely dissecting the happenings on the least eventful television show of all time as though it were Gravity's Rainbow has managed to parlay that into an acting gig. In fact, I also saw his co-host on an episode of Degrassi, so THA is really churning out some powerful alums. Now if only Heidi and Spencer could get work.
Anyway, I'm not proud of my actions, but at least I didn't buy it on DVD. I'm pretty sure you can legitimately be subjected to civil commitment for such actions in at least thirty-eight states.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
In Which I Fear For My Life
Last night I got lost on my way back from visiting a friend in Oak Park. This was not good. As it turns out, you can very quickly drive out of Frank Lloyd Wright land and straight into an episode of The Wire. I swear to God I saw a car in front of me pull over and get a re-up. There were all kinds of people just wandering around in the streets at midnight with no apparent plan other than to give me the evil eye. I kept telling myself everything was fine, only to come across an even more ominous sight like a freshly burned-out building or a an assemblage of police tape. I did make it home safely, obviously, but I have learned an important lesson about trying to avoid traffic. The trip doesn't seem to go a whole lot faster when it's filled with mortal peril.
The rest of the day, by contrast, was quiet. A man in the elevator tried to engage me in conversation about "the game" and I did not have the heart to tell him I had no idea what game he was talking about. It turns out it didn't really matter, because he just wanted to talk and have me add short interjections showing that I agreed with him. I went to the Art Institute at lunch, where I was approached by no fewer than three tourists who somehow thought I worked there, despite the fact that I was wearing jeans and the many, many people who actually work there have uniforms. And I was screamed at by a man trying to shove a bike onto the red line during rush hour. Who says it's hard to meet new people in the city?
Last night I got lost on my way back from visiting a friend in Oak Park. This was not good. As it turns out, you can very quickly drive out of Frank Lloyd Wright land and straight into an episode of The Wire. I swear to God I saw a car in front of me pull over and get a re-up. There were all kinds of people just wandering around in the streets at midnight with no apparent plan other than to give me the evil eye. I kept telling myself everything was fine, only to come across an even more ominous sight like a freshly burned-out building or a an assemblage of police tape. I did make it home safely, obviously, but I have learned an important lesson about trying to avoid traffic. The trip doesn't seem to go a whole lot faster when it's filled with mortal peril.
The rest of the day, by contrast, was quiet. A man in the elevator tried to engage me in conversation about "the game" and I did not have the heart to tell him I had no idea what game he was talking about. It turns out it didn't really matter, because he just wanted to talk and have me add short interjections showing that I agreed with him. I went to the Art Institute at lunch, where I was approached by no fewer than three tourists who somehow thought I worked there, despite the fact that I was wearing jeans and the many, many people who actually work there have uniforms. And I was screamed at by a man trying to shove a bike onto the red line during rush hour. Who says it's hard to meet new people in the city?
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Skin Deep
Interesting start to my day today. I went to see my dermatologist, who lately has been demanding that I come in every other month to keep the sweet, sweet flow of drugs coming. She asked how everything was going, and I told her it was generally fine, although I did get a "midnight visitor" on my chin last night. After analyzing it in a manner that put across how horribly disfigured she believes me to be, she asked me if I wanted to do something about it right away. I cautiously agreed, at which point she took out a giant needle and injected some strange chemicals into my face. The upshot was that I went to work with a band-aid on my chin and my face still hasn't cleared up. I did get to experience life as a Real Housewife, however, so I guess I shouldn't complain.
Interesting start to my day today. I went to see my dermatologist, who lately has been demanding that I come in every other month to keep the sweet, sweet flow of drugs coming. She asked how everything was going, and I told her it was generally fine, although I did get a "midnight visitor" on my chin last night. After analyzing it in a manner that put across how horribly disfigured she believes me to be, she asked me if I wanted to do something about it right away. I cautiously agreed, at which point she took out a giant needle and injected some strange chemicals into my face. The upshot was that I went to work with a band-aid on my chin and my face still hasn't cleared up. I did get to experience life as a Real Housewife, however, so I guess I shouldn't complain.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Capitol Steps
Just got back from my work trip to Springfield. This was one of my first trips to Springfield that didn't consist solely of a stop at the Bigfoot near the interstate to pee and buy a Watchamacalit. Not counting middle school field trips, of course. Although I can still remember my visit to the Illinois State Museum like it was yesterday because one of my classmates got his shoelace stuck in the escalator and, as they say, "ruined it for the rest of us." I also have vague recollections of Lincoln's Tomb, which mainly disappointed me by not being haunted. What good is a tomb that doesn't even draw forth the undead?
Anyway, this trip was far more professional in nature. I went to the Illinois Supreme Court for the first time, which is actually quite a lovely place. It's all old timey and ornate, with lots of carved wood and frescoes of pale ladies in flowy dresses. One of them was clearly supposed to be Lady Justice, but I think the rest were just her entourage. I also went by the Springfield branch of my office, which was a fascinating study in the comparative cost of square footage in the two cities. In Springfield they would use my office as a place to store toner.
Also, the rental car was amazing. Since there were several of us, they gave us a minivan. There were cupholders everywhere. And you could double click a button to make the tailgate lift up. I don't know that I've ever felt so alive.
Just got back from my work trip to Springfield. This was one of my first trips to Springfield that didn't consist solely of a stop at the Bigfoot near the interstate to pee and buy a Watchamacalit. Not counting middle school field trips, of course. Although I can still remember my visit to the Illinois State Museum like it was yesterday because one of my classmates got his shoelace stuck in the escalator and, as they say, "ruined it for the rest of us." I also have vague recollections of Lincoln's Tomb, which mainly disappointed me by not being haunted. What good is a tomb that doesn't even draw forth the undead?
Anyway, this trip was far more professional in nature. I went to the Illinois Supreme Court for the first time, which is actually quite a lovely place. It's all old timey and ornate, with lots of carved wood and frescoes of pale ladies in flowy dresses. One of them was clearly supposed to be Lady Justice, but I think the rest were just her entourage. I also went by the Springfield branch of my office, which was a fascinating study in the comparative cost of square footage in the two cities. In Springfield they would use my office as a place to store toner.
Also, the rental car was amazing. Since there were several of us, they gave us a minivan. There were cupholders everywhere. And you could double click a button to make the tailgate lift up. I don't know that I've ever felt so alive.
Sunday, September 09, 2012
Week in Review
Well, the week kind of got away from me there, didn't it? One minute I'm trying to justify the amount of mayo I'm loading onto my sandwich for work on Monday, the next I'm trying to remember what jeans and polo combination I haven't worn yet for casual Friday. And everything in between is sort of a blur of murderers who claim they've found the real killer (it's not just O.J. any more), fitness classes (infighting among the regulars!), and DVRed programming of questionable merit. My life is such a glamorous whirl.
Probably the most exciting part of this week was when we stopped at Cheddar's for dinner on the way back from Quincy. You know that I love me some moderately-priced family chain restaurants. A child tried to shove crushed french fries into my hair as we dined. Our server, Terri, offered us a free baked alaska to make amends. It was the living end.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the lowlight of the week for me was also food related. I had it all planned out that I would pick up a salad from this place I used to love when I last worked in a place where I actually had time for lunch about seven years ago. Funny thing about that place -- it no longer exists. I blame google for not informing me. I had a long, sad walk back to the office, which improved only marginally when I decided to pick up some Arby's. (curly fries = salad?)
Anyway, this week may be somewhat more interesting, as I am headed to Springfield on Tuesday for work. If things go according to plan, I'll be making out with the Lincoln statuary in no time.
Well, the week kind of got away from me there, didn't it? One minute I'm trying to justify the amount of mayo I'm loading onto my sandwich for work on Monday, the next I'm trying to remember what jeans and polo combination I haven't worn yet for casual Friday. And everything in between is sort of a blur of murderers who claim they've found the real killer (it's not just O.J. any more), fitness classes (infighting among the regulars!), and DVRed programming of questionable merit. My life is such a glamorous whirl.
Probably the most exciting part of this week was when we stopped at Cheddar's for dinner on the way back from Quincy. You know that I love me some moderately-priced family chain restaurants. A child tried to shove crushed french fries into my hair as we dined. Our server, Terri, offered us a free baked alaska to make amends. It was the living end.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the lowlight of the week for me was also food related. I had it all planned out that I would pick up a salad from this place I used to love when I last worked in a place where I actually had time for lunch about seven years ago. Funny thing about that place -- it no longer exists. I blame google for not informing me. I had a long, sad walk back to the office, which improved only marginally when I decided to pick up some Arby's. (curly fries = salad?)
Anyway, this week may be somewhat more interesting, as I am headed to Springfield on Tuesday for work. If things go according to plan, I'll be making out with the Lincoln statuary in no time.
Wednesday, September 05, 2012
Day and Night
So another fun thing about my new office is that they sometimes have concerts in the atrium in the middle of a work day. And the whole building is basically just big, open floors that are all directly connected to the atrium. So I may be sitting at my desk wrestling with a complicated issue of criminal procedure and suddenly mariachi music comes blasting into my consciousness. Oddly enough, it does not always help.
I've actually been really busy at the office lately, but busy in a "taking limited water cooler breaks and staying until 5:15" kind of way, not a "breaking down sobbing and curling up into a little ball on the office floor" kind of way. Which is good, because I like to save my cries up in case Beaches comes on sometime.
My plan tonight was to be in bed about half an hour ago, but it went off the rails when I decided to go to kickboxing and abs and then eat a bunch of candy afterwards. Now I have enough energy to last well into the night, but no real purpose for being up. Can't someone assign me a term paper on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight or something?
So another fun thing about my new office is that they sometimes have concerts in the atrium in the middle of a work day. And the whole building is basically just big, open floors that are all directly connected to the atrium. So I may be sitting at my desk wrestling with a complicated issue of criminal procedure and suddenly mariachi music comes blasting into my consciousness. Oddly enough, it does not always help.
I've actually been really busy at the office lately, but busy in a "taking limited water cooler breaks and staying until 5:15" kind of way, not a "breaking down sobbing and curling up into a little ball on the office floor" kind of way. Which is good, because I like to save my cries up in case Beaches comes on sometime.
My plan tonight was to be in bed about half an hour ago, but it went off the rails when I decided to go to kickboxing and abs and then eat a bunch of candy afterwards. Now I have enough energy to last well into the night, but no real purpose for being up. Can't someone assign me a term paper on Sir Gawain and the Green Knight or something?
Monday, September 03, 2012
Top Shelf
So my parents got on a kick about giving away some of my old books this weekend. It turns out there were some wonderfully weird items on my shelves, some of which I'm pretty sure aren't even mine. Regardless, I'm sure they'll be the hit of the used book store:
"Anglo-American Feminist Challenges to the Rhetorical Traditions" -- Warning: I may or may not have drawn little hearts all over the Mary Wollstonecraft section.
"Play Production in the High School" -- Because I have produced so many plays in high schools over the years. My gender-blind Death of a Salesperson was a huge hit.
"Simplifying Set Theory" -- It does seem to need some simplifying, doesn't it?
"Hands-On Ecology" -- The real story on this one is the cover photo, which is a poorly-lit shot of a girl in enormous glasses playing with grass or something.
"If You Lived With the Sioux Indians" -- What I really resent here is the implication that I DIDN'T live with the Sioux Indians.
"Campbell's High School College Quiz Book" -- Shocking lingering evidence of my time in the quiz bowl circuit.
"Jane Eyre" -- Ugh.
"Using The Internet: A Hands-On Guide With Examples" -- I swear to God I've given this book away at least six times. It keeps finding me back. When I get back to Chicago it will be in my bed.
"Tibetan Yoga And Secret Doctrines" -- Spoiler alert! The secret doctrines all have to do with finding your correct bra size.
Sad to see these go, but I'm sure they'll be replaced with equally ridiculous titles any day now.
So my parents got on a kick about giving away some of my old books this weekend. It turns out there were some wonderfully weird items on my shelves, some of which I'm pretty sure aren't even mine. Regardless, I'm sure they'll be the hit of the used book store:
"Anglo-American Feminist Challenges to the Rhetorical Traditions" -- Warning: I may or may not have drawn little hearts all over the Mary Wollstonecraft section.
"Play Production in the High School" -- Because I have produced so many plays in high schools over the years. My gender-blind Death of a Salesperson was a huge hit.
"Simplifying Set Theory" -- It does seem to need some simplifying, doesn't it?
"Hands-On Ecology" -- The real story on this one is the cover photo, which is a poorly-lit shot of a girl in enormous glasses playing with grass or something.
"If You Lived With the Sioux Indians" -- What I really resent here is the implication that I DIDN'T live with the Sioux Indians.
"Campbell's High School College Quiz Book" -- Shocking lingering evidence of my time in the quiz bowl circuit.
"Jane Eyre" -- Ugh.
"Using The Internet: A Hands-On Guide With Examples" -- I swear to God I've given this book away at least six times. It keeps finding me back. When I get back to Chicago it will be in my bed.
"Tibetan Yoga And Secret Doctrines" -- Spoiler alert! The secret doctrines all have to do with finding your correct bra size.
Sad to see these go, but I'm sure they'll be replaced with equally ridiculous titles any day now.
Sunday, September 02, 2012
Strange Days
I'm sure I've probably said this before, but coming to my parents' house is always sort of like entering into a completely different world. A world where people still read the daily newspaper. (Did you know they still publish Parade Magazine? It's like six pages crayoned out on the back of a paper sack now.) A world where people talk to dogs as though they really might respond. A world where it takes fifteen minutes to get absolutely anywhere. It's actually not a bad little world.
So what have I done so far? Not much. Frankly I spent a good portion of yesterday watching old Square One and Reading Rainbow clips on YouTube. We did go to the gym for a while, where I ran five miles while dodging members of the university women's softball team who were walking laps and gossiping about who threw up what lunch and who got date raped by whom. We also got pizza for a family of four for under $10, so that was good. But my favorite activity had to be our trip to be in the studio audience for the televised mass for shut ins. We got all our church for the week done in half an hour and we only had to creep in the side door of a local television station and make terrifying small talk with elderly members of the Knights of Columbus to do it. Plus, my mug is going to be on channel 7 this morning enjoying a little slice of body of Christ. I'm famous!
I'm sure I've probably said this before, but coming to my parents' house is always sort of like entering into a completely different world. A world where people still read the daily newspaper. (Did you know they still publish Parade Magazine? It's like six pages crayoned out on the back of a paper sack now.) A world where people talk to dogs as though they really might respond. A world where it takes fifteen minutes to get absolutely anywhere. It's actually not a bad little world.
So what have I done so far? Not much. Frankly I spent a good portion of yesterday watching old Square One and Reading Rainbow clips on YouTube. We did go to the gym for a while, where I ran five miles while dodging members of the university women's softball team who were walking laps and gossiping about who threw up what lunch and who got date raped by whom. We also got pizza for a family of four for under $10, so that was good. But my favorite activity had to be our trip to be in the studio audience for the televised mass for shut ins. We got all our church for the week done in half an hour and we only had to creep in the side door of a local television station and make terrifying small talk with elderly members of the Knights of Columbus to do it. Plus, my mug is going to be on channel 7 this morning enjoying a little slice of body of Christ. I'm famous!
Saturday, September 01, 2012
Casual Corner
So I'm trying just to relax this weekend and it turns out I'm pretty bad at it. I keep trying to make lists of things to do. And on the way down to my parents' on the train last night I read three sets of briefs for upcoming oral arguments. To be fair, that was mainly to distract myself from the homespun wisdom of the two couples loudly comparing notes on day cares and county fairs in the row in front of me, but still, I was doing work on a weekend even though I don't even have the kind of job that requires work on a weekend any more. Although frankly, reading about child murderers and sexually violent persons is truly fun for me. It's kind of like watching Honey Boo Boo, except the subtext has become the text.
Anyway, I'm doing my best to embrace an unscheduled existence, at least for a few days. I resolutely did not go out for a run first thing this morning; instead I just talked to my parents and played on the internet for a while. I'll go running... sometime, I don't know, I'm totally casual about it. And I completely have not allotted out time for playing the piano, going to the Wal Mart to buy bulk candy, and meeting some friends. I'm just playing it by ear, because that's what I do. All laid back like.
So I'm trying just to relax this weekend and it turns out I'm pretty bad at it. I keep trying to make lists of things to do. And on the way down to my parents' on the train last night I read three sets of briefs for upcoming oral arguments. To be fair, that was mainly to distract myself from the homespun wisdom of the two couples loudly comparing notes on day cares and county fairs in the row in front of me, but still, I was doing work on a weekend even though I don't even have the kind of job that requires work on a weekend any more. Although frankly, reading about child murderers and sexually violent persons is truly fun for me. It's kind of like watching Honey Boo Boo, except the subtext has become the text.
Anyway, I'm doing my best to embrace an unscheduled existence, at least for a few days. I resolutely did not go out for a run first thing this morning; instead I just talked to my parents and played on the internet for a while. I'll go running... sometime, I don't know, I'm totally casual about it. And I completely have not allotted out time for playing the piano, going to the Wal Mart to buy bulk candy, and meeting some friends. I'm just playing it by ear, because that's what I do. All laid back like.
