Tuesday, October 28, 2008
I'm feeling somewhat better today, which I think is at least partially due to the fact that I have the world's best husband. See, yesterday, after I wrote my "woe is me" post and then proceeded to mope around the house, Mr. Darling asked me if I had any plans for today after work. And I said no, and he said: "Good, because I booked you a massage."
Um, yeah. I'm officially the luckiest wife who ever lived. So today, after another crappy day at work, I spent an hour getting the best massage of my life, and then I came home to a house that was completely spotless. Mr. D even washed the bath mat! I seriously don't know how I ever lived without this man. No joke.
I'm still recovering from my cold (but I'm doing so while feeling very relaxed), so I'm going to head off to bed.
Very relaxed Tova
Monday, October 27, 2008
- Blew my nose approximately 473 times.
- Wrote an angry letter to the makers of DayQuil (Seriously. This is not a joke. They incurred my wrath because they changed their formula a year or two ago, and the new formula does NOT work. I told them that their product is crap and that it's their fault I was miserable at work all day.)
- Somehow managed to get spyware on my work computer, thereby leaving myself without a computer at work all day today and probably half of the day tomorrow.
- Used my lunch hour to go to the pharmacy and get new cold medicine that isn't crap.
- Whined to Mr. Darling about how I don't feel well, using the following methods of communication: 1. Phone 2. Text message 3. Face-to-face conversation. (But not email, because I had no computer at work.)
- Ate nothing but a banana and half of a piece of pizza.
- Went to the post office.
- Got randomly and unjustifiably irritated with Mr. Darling for doing the following things: 1. Going to the doctor. 2. Going to the mall. 3. Saying that his laryngitis might be worse than mine. 4. Suggesting that he might have pneumonia.
- Came home from work, laid on my bed for an hour, and watched Family Feud and Pyramid.
- Wrote this post.
I know that you all wish that your lives were as glamorous as mine is, but sadly, there can only be one Tova Darling. I'd type more, but it's hard to type while holding a huge wad of tissues.
(PS - this is totally cosmic payback for me complaining about my coworker being sick last week.)
Friday, October 24, 2008
Here is my award!
Note the creative spelling of the word creative - that's a sign that I am DOUBLY creative!
In order to receive the award, I need to list six things I value and six things I don't value. (When I first wrote out this post, I had really long explanations of all of the things I valued. The post was about 47 pages long. Because I don't want any of you to hate me and curse my [fake] name, I took out the explanations and just left the list of things I value and don't. You're welcome.)
First, the things I value: 1. God. 2. Language and words. 3. My marriage and my relationship with my husband. 4. Family. 5. Justice. 6. Books.
And now, the things I don't value: 1. Cars. 2. (My coworker won't stop coughing/blowing her nose/clearing her throat/making other really loud and unfortunate noises, and I cannot concentrate in order to think of more things that I don't value. If you're sick, please go home. Ok, that will be my second thing I don't value:) Coming to work while you're sick at the expense of your coworkers' health and sanity. 3. Sports. 4. Please get a cough drop, seriously. 5. Our society's obsession with celebrities. 6. Something else I can't think of at the moment.
And now, for my feet. (Ok, there's a reason for this, really. Dr. Zibbs over at That Blue Yak is making a calendar of female bloggers, but I'm anonymous, which means I don't post any pictures of myself, which means I can't apply to be in this prestigious calendar! Unfair! But then, I realized that a picture of my feet wouldn't reveal who I am, and since someone out there might have a foot fetish [and who am I to judge?], it might add a new and exciting dimension to this already spectacular calendar.) So, these are my feet:
JUST as I was about to post this, I got ANOTHER award (crowd goes wild). Thanks to Tiffany over at Confessions of Shop Girl, I am the proud recipient of not one, but TWO awards! Holy cow, readers! This one is the bookworm award, which I'm uber proud of, even though it's an award that contains the word "worm."In order to accept this award, I need to buy yet another red carpet gown, and also turn to page 56 of the nearest book to me and "Write out the fifth sentence on that page, and also the next two to five sentences...The CLOSEST BOOK, NOT YOUR FAVORITE, OR MOST INTELLECTUAL!!" (No need to yell, award.) I'm in my cubicle, so the pickings are pretty slim, but apparently, I have the John Grisham book The Client in my cube. (When and how it got here, I've no idea. I blog at work, but I definitely don't read here. Hmm...) Anyway, here it goes: "In a flash, he knew it was over. He'd blown it. Said too much. Lied too much. He'd lasted less than an hour with his story."
Now there's no need for any of you to read the book! I'm supposed to tag people now, but it's almost 5:00, and I'm tired out from trying to hide a book under my desk so no one thinks I'm reading on the job. I'll tag some people later, maybe. (Please don't revoke my awards!) If anyone reading this wants some awards, do the challenges, and they're all yours!
Have a great weekend, all!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
I once dated a guy who agreed with everything I said. EVERYTHING. I remember one specific instance (although, it turns out that I don't remember it all that well), when we were on a date, and somehow he got started talking very passionately about his opinion on some subject... I think it was the army. (For the sake of making this post easier and less confusing, let's just say it WAS about the army, although in all fairness, it might have been about something completely different.) He went on and on about the army (or something else) for a good fifteen minutes. He felt strongly about it. He'd apparently spent a lot of time thinking about his specific opinion, and he explained it to me it great length. Whatever his particular opinion happened to be, I remember that I disagreed. It wasn't something that I'd ever given much thought to, and to be honest, I probably wasn't terribly well-informed on the topic in question. (What do I know about the army? Or something that may not have been the army?) I responded with an off-the-cuff response that began with something like "Hmm, I don't really think I agree with that," and then followed with perhaps a five-second explanation of why I disagreed. His response? "I think you're right." Wait, what? What happened to the opinion he'd apparently spent weeks forming? I disagree, and suddenly his whole argument is out the window?
Needless to say, the relationship didn't last very long. He was a sweet guy, and he was romantic (he once bought me 100 roses, for no particular reason, and spread them all over my college dorm room while I was in class, which caused much jealousy among the other girls in my dorm), but he didn't challenge me. I don't think that I ever said a single word that he disagreed with. I got bored after about a month, and told him quite honestly that I didn't have any romantic feelings for him. I crave intelligent discussion, witty banter, and someone who makes me think, and I couldn't get that from him. (I didn't tell him that I was breaking up with him because of a lack of intelligent conversation, obviously. I do have some tact.)
For Mr. Darling, on the other hand, romance doesn't always come naturally. Don't get me wrong, the two single most romantic moments of my life were planned and orchestrated by Mr. D (namely, when he proposed to me, and three hours before our wedding, when he had a vase of roses delivered to me with a card that said "I love you, and I can't wait to marry you! I'll see you at 3:00. Yours - Mr. Darling" - except that it said his actual name instead of "Mr. Darling." Obviously.), and he does put effort into romancing me, but saying and doing romantic things aren't necessarily his "thing." But he makes me laugh so hard that I cry just about every day, he challenges me, he's extremely intelligent, he makes me think, and when he does say things that are romantic and sweet, I know that they're from his heart and not something that he's saying because he knows it's the type of thing women like to hear.
It's different for different people, of course. I know plenty of girls for whom 100 roses guy would win out over stimulating conversation guy any day of the week. And I'm not saying that one is necessarily better than the other (ok, actually, yes, I am saying that, because I later found out that 100 roses guy cheated on every girl he ever dated [with the possible exception of me, but only because I didn't give him very much time to cheat before breaking up with him], so in this particular case, I am totally saying that Mr. D is way better than 100 roses guy, but I mean... in general, I'm not making a judgement call about romance versus intelligent conversation.)
There are times when I look at a couple, and I wonder what one sees in the other (do other people do this, or am I just a jerk?), because I just can't see the appeal - but it's obviously just a matter of differing priorities. What I was looking for in a relationship might be very different than what you were looking for. So I'm always curious to know what people's priorities are when they're dating. What's most important to you? Brains, looks, conversation, stability, romance, or something else?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
For those not quite ready to take the plunge, there's an alternative. Moving in together. This is the option of choice for those who aren't ready to get married, but also don't want to break up. Instead, they decide to cohabitate, "test it out" for a while, and then if it works, perhaps get married at a later date. Many object to this arrangement on moral grounds, but for a purely practical argument against the "moving in together" phenomenon, you need only look one place:
I should probably elaborate. When I worked at a major retail store (the kind where employees have to wear ugly vests) through high school and college (fun times, let me assure you), there was a television in the break room that got two channels (three on a really good day.) On one of those channels, there were inevitably episodes of Judge Judy. For those of you unfamiliar with this red-haired queen of justice, she's a judge who tries small claim cases on TV ("Her cases are real, her decisions are final.") From watching countless episodes of her show, I learned the following lessons. 1. Never lend anyone your car. They'll probably crash it and then refuse to pay you for it. 2. Don't lend large amounts of money to friends, relatives, significant others, or strangers. They will spend it on something dumb and then claim that it wasn't a loan, it was a "gift." and 3. Never move in with someone you're just dating.
At least once every other episode, there would be a couple that had moved in together, broken up, and were now suing (and often counter-suing) for various expenses and possessions. What happened was that at the most loving point in their relationship, they had decided that they wanted to spend every waking moment together without actually tying the knot. Feeling all lovey and cooperative, they'd make all sorts of offers and agreements - "don't worry, sweetie, I'll pay the entire security deposit," or, "it's ok, I'll put the big screen TV and Lazy-Boy on my credit card if you'll just pay for the next six months of groceries." Then they break up, and suddenly one of them thinks it's horribly unfair that the other gets to keep a big-screen TV and living room set, and all they're left with is some month-old salami. And ultimately, Judge Judy rules that if your boyfriend paid for the television, it's his television, even if you were paying all of the utility bills for an entire year (because unlike divorce where everything has to be split at least semi-fairly, the law provides no protection for people who end dating relationships). And then you're mad, and everyone who works at the un-named major retail store is sitting there in their little vests, laughing at you from the poorly lit break room with the fuzzy television.
Let me be clear that I'm not trying to judge or insult anyone here. I've no doubt that there are people who lived together before getting married who ended up so happily ever after that it should've been a Disney movie. But I also know people who lived together, assumed they'd be together forever, and then suddenly found themselves coping not only with the loss of a significant other but also with the loss of the cat, Christmas dishes, and Wii Fit, and with no legal recourse whatsoever. So my advice (not that anyone cares), based on my extensive Judge Judy watching experience, is that if you're not ready to marry someone, you probably aren't ready to enter into serious financial arrangements with that person. It's all of the responsibility with none of the commitment, and that's a recipe for disaster.
Now, there may be those of you who are thinking "You don't know anything! My boyfriend and I are living together, and we'll never break up or fight about who gets to keep appliances!" And I hope you're right. Because if you're not, I think it only fair to warn you that if you end up on Judge Judy arguing with your ex about who gets custody of your dog, Bobo - somewhere out there, there will be a person who has worked as a shopping cart pusher for 20 years making $7 an hour who thinks that your life is sad.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Here is my picture worth a thousand words:
That's Mr. Darling putting my engagement ring back on my left hand after we exchanged rings on our wedding day. :)
I'm the matron of honor in my friend's wedding this weekend, so I probably won't post again until Monday-ish. Have a fantastic weekend, all!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
It was easier when I was younger and still lived at home, because my dad and sister follow politics very closely, and so at dinner, they'd be discussing the candidates' stances on various issues, and I could just say "Oh, well that sounds pretty good, I'll vote for that guy." (For the record, and this is important to know so that you don't think my dad is a lunatic after you read further in this post, my dad is a genius. We're talking MENSA material. Seriously. He has a PhD in biology, writes history books in his spare time, and taught himself to play piano and guitar.) But now I have to actually watch the news or read political articles online if I want to know where people stand on things. And that cuts into my valuable blogging/watching Project Runway reruns time. The other nice thing about living at home was the way my dad edited the voter's guide (this is true) - he would look through the voter's guide that came with the newspaper the week before election day, and he would decide who to vote for; then, he would go back through the voting guide with a marker, and draw mustaches, horns, goatees, etc on the faces of the candidates he wasn't going to vote for. Then, I could just look through the guide, find the people without horns or ridiculous facial hair, and those were the people to vote for. It was a much simpler time.
Anyway, I know embarrassingly little about where the candidates stand on major issues, other than what I've gleaned from those ads that both candidates are now running where they try to convince you that voting for the other candidate is a sure-fire way to end up homeless and/or dead. You know the ones I'm talking about, they're the ones that go, "John McCain doesn't care about you or your family at all. In fact, just yesterday, he told the insurance companies that he hopes you get really, really sick, and then he's going to point and laugh at you while you writhe around in agony, because he specifically told the insurance companies not to cover any illnesses that you might have, just because he's an evil person with seven houses who hopes you die" and "Barack Obama is so dumb that he plans to put the country 40 bajillion dollars into debt, just for the heck of it, and that's because his only political experience was when he was third-grade class president. And also, his best friend is a terrorist who is planning to kill your mom."
You can blame my lack of knowledge of the candidates on sheer laziness, but also a little bit on the fact that apparently I misunderstood how the political process works in America. Because, correct me if I'm wrong, I thought that I remembered from seventh grade civics class (which I got an A in... or maybe a B) that the United States government operates with a system of checks and balances involving other key players like Congress, the Senate, the Supreme Court, and NBC news. So, while it's all well and good for the presidential candidates to say things like "when I become president, I'll make free healthcare for all! And lower taxes by 75%! And Tuesday will be free ice cream day across the land!" the president doesn't actually write any laws, or levy or collect any taxes, Congress does all of that. The president just signs legislation written by congress into law, or vetoes it, and even if he vetoes it, Congress can override his decision. So, forgive me for my naivete, but shouldn't we be focusing just as hard on who's running for Congress as we are on the presidential election, since those are the people who actually write laws governing taxes 'n such? (For the record, I'm not following who's running for Congress, either.)
Anyway, I guess the whole point of this is that I'm issuing a plea to anyone reading this - if you could provide me with a voter's guide of the candidates which includes mustaches and/or horns on unsuitable candidates so that I know who to vote for, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks.
Monday, October 13, 2008
As a result of vacation planning, I was thinking today about vacations. Namely, bad vacation moments. The old standards, like sunburn and long car rides are the obvious ones, but I remembered one particular incident that makes me laugh (in retrospect, of course - I'm not sure I laughed quite as much at the time.) I'm sharing it with you all because, hey, we all need a good laugh every now and again.
Allow me to set the scene. It was summer - I believe it was a Friday night. I was on a weekend trip with my high school youth group, and we visited Canada to see Niagara Falls. I was wearing jeans, which interestingly enough, happened to be the only pair of long pants I brought along on the trip (since it was summer, and I had mistakenly assumed that the weather would be nice enough to allow me to wear shorts.) After having seen the falls, we were walking around the city as a group, and I was chatting with a good friend of mine. He suddenly stopped, leaned over, and... barfed. On my leg. I tried to get it off with some napkins hastily grabbed from a restaurant, but the damage had been done. After a four hour van ride (we got lost... several times), we arrived at the hotel well after midnight, and I did the only thing I could think to do - washed my vomit-encrusted jeans in the hotel sink with one of those ridiculous little bars of soap they give you.
The next morning, (which arrived only a few hours after we went to sleep), we awoke to unseasonably cold weather. My only clothing option was the still-damp, still-smelly jeans. I decided that the only way I could hope to dry the jeans at all was to iron them with the hotel iron, so I asked another friend to leave it on while I showered. When I came out of the shower (in my underwear, as my pants were still wet), I turned the corner and... ran into the ironing board and the steaming hot iron that my friend had accommodatingly left on at my request. For the remainder of the day, I walked around wearing jeans that smelled of vomit, were uncomfortably damp, and rubbed mercilessly against the fresh burn on my hip.
And that, my friends, is one of my less-than-perfect vacation moments. Care to share your own?
Friday, October 10, 2008
Here are the Rules:
1.Link to the person that tagged you
2.Post the rules on your blog
3.Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself
4.Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
5.Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.
6.Let your tagger know when your entry is UP.
Here are some non-important facts about me. Enjoy the randomness!
1. I am VERY grossed out by saliva. It's utterly repulsive (and it totally smells funny). Mr. Darling knows this, of course, so when I tickle him (ok, I'm a bully), he threatens to drool on me. Stops me in my tracks every time. I blame it on the fact that my best friend since 7th grade used to grab my face and LICK it when we were young and strange. No, seriously. It gives me nightmares. This is also one reason that I don't think I could ever handle having a dog. Too much saliva.
2. I have very green eyes. They're so green that I've actually been "accused" of secretly wearing colored contacts. (I don't wear contacts, colored or otherwise). Sometimes random people stop me in public and ask me if I'm Irish because of my eye color (I'm not Irish). No one else in my family has green eyes.
3. I don't like pasta. Every time people find that out, they act like I've just revealed that I hate sunshine and happiness. It's not so much that I dislike pasta... I just think it's a waste of time. I'm also not a huge fan of steak. Give me chicken and potatoes, and I'm a happy girl.
4. I'm afraid of getting haircuts. When I was in second grade, I got a haircut that was so short that I looked like a boy. The next morning, I was standing at my locker, and when I turned around, a boy in my class said "Oh, Tova, it's you! I thought we had a new boy in our class!" Ever since then, I've insisted upon having really long hair.
5. I won't leave the house without full eye makeup, no matter what I'm wearing. Even if I'm just running to Wal-Mart dressed in sweatpants and with my hair in a huge messy ball on the top of my head, my eyes have to be all made-up. When I'm feeling lazy, I often completely ignore the rest of my face. No foundation, no powder, no lipstick, no blush, no bronzer... just eye makeup.
6. I CAN'T sleep with socks on. It could be 20 degrees in my room, and my feet could be almost numb, but they have to be bare.
And now for the tagging. I tag:
Thursday, October 9, 2008
To cheer her up, I reminded her of the time four years ago when she and I both worked for a major (and majorly crappy) retail chain while we were in college, and one of the stock boys asked me how old I was; when I told him that I was 21 years old, he responded with "Damn! You look good for your age!" Which made me feel like I was a reasonably attractive grandma.
I blame society, of course. When Miley Cyrus, who just started puberty like, last week, is considered a sex symbol, and Jamie Lynn Spears becomes a mom at the same age that I was figuring out what "second base" was, it's totally understandable that people my age are considered to be old fogies. If I was already looking good "for my age" at 21, I fully anticipate using a cane and complaining loudly about bunions at the ripe old age of 32. It's no wonder that there's this new "Quarter-Life Crisis" phenomenon among 20-something females. We hit 25, and we're suddenly past our prime.
Now if you'll all excuse me, I need to go put in my dentures.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
- Giving your coworker a 60th birthday card that says something about being "over the hill." - Unlawful harassment - you can't treat people differently because of their age.
- Telling blonde jokes in front of a blonde coworker - NOT harassment. It's totally ok to insult someone's hair color, because hair color isn't protected under harassment laws. (Age, race, sex, disability, disease, ethnicity, pregnancy, and gender are protected.)
- Telling your coworker she looks nice in her new dress - Unlawful harassment - she might feel like you're making sexual advances toward her and/or harassing her based on her sex.
- Not hiring someone because they have blue eyes or being really mean to anyone with blue eyes- Totally ok.
- Giving your coworker a hug - Unlawful harassment. You're not allowed to touch your coworkers, because even if they don't mind, it might offend someone else who sees it. (On the painfully obvious side, they did make sure to spell out that sitting on a coworker's lap is inappropriate. Unless your coworker is Santa Claus, I'm thinking that this one was a no-brainer.)
- Asking your coworker who just lost 50 pounds for diet tips or telling them they look great after their weight loss- Unlawful harassment. They could have lost weight because they have a disability or a disease. You're not even supposed to comment that they lost weight. So, if you think you look great because you recently lost 75 pounds, but you're mad because no one at work has even noticed, it might just be that they don't want to get sued on the off-chance that you've lost weight because you have AIDS.
- Offering to help your pregnant coworker do some part of her job - Unlawful harassment. Showing preferential treatment to someone based on one of the "protected" criteria can be considered unlawful harassment. So if your pregnant coworker needs to lift something heavy, I guess she'll just have to do it herself. (I'm thinking that this whole "preferential treatment based on 'protected' categories" thing also means that males who open doors for their female colleagues are just begging for a lawsuit.)
I also learned, thanks to the ultra-realistic sample situations that were in the training module, that if I throw a burrito at a coworker's boyfriend when I'm on my lunch break and away from the office, it's still considered workplace violence because I'm on company time, even though he's not a coworker, I'm not at the office, and the burrito didn't hit him. (Throwing a BURRITO at someone?? That was the best example they could come up with??)
So, I'd like to go ahead and offer an apology to my coworkers and the world at large. I'm sorry - I take it all back. That dress looks AWFUL on you (for completely non-sexual reasons), I didn't mean to insult you by implying that you being nine months pregnant warranted me offering my help in carrying that heavy box, and I'll never hug you again.
On the bright side, I did receive a "certificate of completion" for "Unlawful Harassment Prevention," so if you're wondering if it's acceptable to mention to your coworker that you didn't particularly like the movie "Brokeback Mountain" (completely unacceptable, for the record), feel free to ask me! I'll just be sitting here with masking tape over my mouth.
*For some reason (perhaps a new and as-of-yet undiscovered personality disorder), I feel the need to add a disclaimer that this is an edited version of one of the last posts that I wrote on my old, now-deceased blog. It's not like I'm plagiarizing myself, but I felt the need to share that.
Monday, October 6, 2008
-hi my lonely heart!!!!!!!
-The Ladies will call you Largissimo
-LET HANDLY IT TOGETHER
-I want sale you rolex. Do you want?
-Friends, recommend you a good site, you unless it. Certainly you like product.
Frankly, as annoying as it is, I find spam mail amusing. (I once got a spam email in written in what appeared to be Russian that included pictures with Japanese captions of a girl standing next to some sort of computerized toilet. Naturally, I followed the link to a Russian/Japanese website that was apparently selling various models of very high-tech toilet computers. That one kept me amused for a week. Unfortunately, the website is no longer available, and I don't know how to speak Russian in order to find it again, so I can't share the fun with the rest of you.) But my real question is - do these spam emails ever actually make money?? Are there people out there who read these and think "What fantastic timing! I was just thinking about how I'd like to be called Largissimo and also buy a Rolex from someone with a tenuous grasp of the English Language! I'm going to send my credit card number to this complete stranger in exchange for prescription medication and a designer watch and then hope that someone who has no qualms about filling my inbox with unsolicited, grammatically incorrect advertisements will have enough scruples not to steal my identity!"
If you've ever ordered anything from one of these emails, or you know someone who has, please let me know! As a reward for sharing your story, I promise to call you Largissimo.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
- Drinking coffee in an effort to wake up - 5 minutes
- Cleaning up coffee that I spilled all over my lap, my desk, and my floor - 25 minutes
- Unjamming the gigantic copier/printer that someone else had jammed up and then just left there - 30 minutes
- Figuring out how to load staples into the copier/printer - 25 minutes
- Complaining that it's really, really hot in this office - 15 minutes
- Answering emails that backed up in my inbox from yesterday's marathon staff meeting - 90 minutes
- Pointing out that, no, seriously, it is REALLY hot - 15 minutes
- Trying to convince a woman on the phone that no, no one in this office promised you that they'd make a personal visit to your house, eight hours away, because it's not something we've ever done here, ever, for anyone - 30 minutes (turns out that she had called the wrong number)
- Eating lunch - 30 minutes
- Wondering why the building landlord won't turn down the heat - 25 minutes
- Thinking about, planning, daydreaming about, and otherwise obsessing over Mr. Darling's graduation party in seven months - 90 minutes
- Drinking Mt. Dew in order to re-wake up - 5 minutes
- Cleaning up Mt. Dew that I spilled on my keyboard - 10 minutes
- Contemplating stripping down to undies and a tanktop, because it is really, really, really too hot in here (and also because I have Mt. Dew and coffee stains on my clothes) - 25 minutes
- Trying to decide whether or not to go get a pedicure by weighing the pros and cons (con - they're expensive, pro - they feel good and make my toes look cute) - 15 minutes
- Compiling this list - 30 minutes
- Adding up the minutes to see if they add up to eight hours - 0 minutes (I don't do math)
And that's my day in a nutshell. How people get any work done with all of these other pressing issues to deal with is beyond me!