I don't typically stay out late on "school nights." Beauty rest is vital to a single girl on the prowl so I try to be home by 11 during the week. Plus I'm typically to work by 8 AM, so it's easier to get up after 8 restful hours vs. 4 drunken ones.
Wednesday night I stayed out later than usual (to be detailed in a future post) and upon driving home was sidelined for nearly a full hour by highway construction. I got home at 1 AM instead of 12 AM as intended. I was exhausted and I stripped off my clothes, taking time to hang my jeans in the closet and fold my sweater, but discarded my bra, undies, t-shirt and shoes in a pile on the floor. I slipped into bed and had unusually broken, restless sleep.
Thursday morning I had to drag myself out of bed. I was tired, groggy, cranky...and instead of putting yesterday's laundry in the hamper I left it on the floor. I did expend the effort to make the bed, but didn't bother putting the decorative pillows in place, just left my one "sleeping" pillow on the bed. I added my pj's to the pile of previously mentioned unmentionables, showered, dressed, and headed off to work. I didn't think twice about the pile of laundry on the floor...after all, who was going to be in my unit before me?
At 10:36 AM an email is delivered to my iPhone...it's the builder (for my condo), they are going to have an electrician onsite today who can fix the tricky lightswitch I had complained about in the master bedroom. Would it be okay for them to let the electrician in my unit?
You know exactly what I pictured: the pile of bra, t-shirt, undies, boy shorts and long-sleeve T lazily discarded on the floor in the middle of the room. And a big, fat, totally disgusting electrician ogling my unmentionables. Of course today would be the day they have an electrician available to fix the problem.
I weighed my options:
1. Say no, and hope they can fix it another day.
2. Say yes, then immediately drive home to scoop up the laundry and dump it in the hamper.
3. Say yes, and to hell with the unmentionables. I'm sure he's seen worse.
My desire to avoid an electrical fire ultimately outweighed my desire to protect my panties and my work schedule eliminated option 2, so I said yes. And I spent the next 8 hours agonizing over what was on the floor and what the filthy electrician was seeing.
I rolled into my place at 6:30 PM last night. I didn't even remove my shoes or coat at the door: I walked directly to the master bedroom, flipped on the now-functioning lightswitch and surveyed the scene.
Yep. My most embarrassing dream come true:
-"fully armored" bra (translation: extreme padding), color pink, splayed full-length on the floor like a slingshot
-yesterday's undies, pink Hanky Panky's, also extended in their full (albeit, brief) glory on the floor
-gray boy shorts
-long-sleeve T from a company outing in 2000, that after 10 years is more than showing its age
-one pair of ballet flats, one pair of slippers, one pair of heels and two pairs of flip flops scattered about
The one non-embarrassing item on the floor (besides the shoes; I was only embarrassed by the number of shoes I managed to wear in the course of a day) was yesterday's t-shirt, thankfully relatively new so devoid of holes.
Still wearing my coat and shoes, I gathered the laundry into my arms and immediately deposited it in the hamper (tucked neatly in the linen closet). I gathered all the shoes and lined those up in the closet, adding the pair from my feet and substituting those with the slippers. I didn't actually finish making the bed -- I was so tired that I knew in a matter of hours I would be snuggled in between the sheets.
And I promised myself to never, ever let laziness prevent me from taking the extra 30 seconds to put laundry in the hamper ever again. As you can imagine, when I left home this morning my house looked ready for a photo shoot.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Down, boy! Down!
Recently I was meeting some friends at my neighborhood watering hole. I was the first to arrive and I settled in at the bar and ordered a glass of wine from the bartender. I have been coming to this bar for years (although I would in no way consider myself a regular) and I did not recognize this bartender. No big deal, he poured my drink promptly and that's what matters.
Shortly after my friend Erin shows up. She is a regular at the bar and was greeted as such, and had to work her way down the bar giving a personal hello to all the other regulars. She finally gets to me and settles in. We begin chatting and she orders a drink from the newbie bartender while greeting him by name: "Hey CJ, what's up?" He goes off to make the pour and she and I settle into conversation. CJ returns with the drink and Erin, the super-friendly gal that she is, introduces me to CJ. Having noticed my iPhone in hand, CJ seizes this opportunity to begin discussing iPhone apps. (Yawn, haven't we been through this with robotics?) I tell him I'm not a huge fan of the iPhone and it's really just a means of communication for me so I don't have "favorite" apps. Meanwhile, Erin is responding to some texts on her phone.
Although CJ asked me about my iPhone, I was getting a very distinct feeling that he was far more interested in me than he was in my apps.
Erin and I finally shake CJ and go back to our chit chatting...at which point Erin shows me the text she was responding to...from CJ...asking "Who is your friend?!?"
Oh great...
Erin had responded "That's my friend Marsha, she's awesome!" before she realized that CJ's interest may have been more than friendly. I think my facial expression when she showed me his text (which can be summed up as "Ewwwww") probably gave it away.
So the night progressed and our circle of friends grew, but I remained in my seat at the bar. I had turned in my seat so I could face those standing near me, but had left my water and glass of wine next to me on the bar so I could reach them when needed.
CJ, however, was clearly distressed by my ignoring [of him]. He interrupted me at one point when I was sending a text to ask, again, about my iPhone apps. He was appalled that I didn't have the "TMZ" app. I blew him off with "I'm really not into celebrity gossip." [A total lie.]
Later, and repeatedly, he would call to me over the bar "Marsha! Marsha! Marsha!" --which I could very well hear but chose to ignore-- until one of my friends would say "I think the bartender wants you." I would turn to the bar and there would be CJ asking:
"Do you need another drink?" [note full wine glass next to me]
"Would you like to order food?" [he knew we were waiting for a table for our group]
"Do you have this iPhone app?" [no explanation necessary]
Down boy, down! Am I wrong, or should bartenders be seen and not heard? He was like an overeager dog...and I had no interest in being his master.
Over all this time, CJ is texting Erin asking about me. She has relayed my disinterest in him....unfortunately a message that reached him but did not get THROUGH to him.
I left after 5 hours, paying for my entire dinner and the 3 glasses of wine and 1 beer I consumed. I was not comped anything.
As I exited the bar and was about to cross the street to my car I heard someone calling out "Marsha! Marsha! Bye!!!" I looked back and, of course, there's CJ. I offer a small wave and a weak "Oh, yeah, bye."
Well, it turns out he was talking to some girl as I left (I hadn't noticed) and he immediately texted Erin: "I hope Marsha doesn't think I have a girlfriend because I was talking to my friend Mary when she left!"
Ugh!!!
So now you can knock my local watering hole off of places to frequent, lest I accidentally encourage CJ's affection. Which is a real shame because they have a terrific Cobb Salad.
Shortly after my friend Erin shows up. She is a regular at the bar and was greeted as such, and had to work her way down the bar giving a personal hello to all the other regulars. She finally gets to me and settles in. We begin chatting and she orders a drink from the newbie bartender while greeting him by name: "Hey CJ, what's up?" He goes off to make the pour and she and I settle into conversation. CJ returns with the drink and Erin, the super-friendly gal that she is, introduces me to CJ. Having noticed my iPhone in hand, CJ seizes this opportunity to begin discussing iPhone apps. (Yawn, haven't we been through this with robotics?) I tell him I'm not a huge fan of the iPhone and it's really just a means of communication for me so I don't have "favorite" apps. Meanwhile, Erin is responding to some texts on her phone.
Although CJ asked me about my iPhone, I was getting a very distinct feeling that he was far more interested in me than he was in my apps.
Erin and I finally shake CJ and go back to our chit chatting...at which point Erin shows me the text she was responding to...from CJ...asking "Who is your friend?!?"
Oh great...
Erin had responded "That's my friend Marsha, she's awesome!" before she realized that CJ's interest may have been more than friendly. I think my facial expression when she showed me his text (which can be summed up as "Ewwwww") probably gave it away.
So the night progressed and our circle of friends grew, but I remained in my seat at the bar. I had turned in my seat so I could face those standing near me, but had left my water and glass of wine next to me on the bar so I could reach them when needed.
CJ, however, was clearly distressed by my ignoring [of him]. He interrupted me at one point when I was sending a text to ask, again, about my iPhone apps. He was appalled that I didn't have the "TMZ" app. I blew him off with "I'm really not into celebrity gossip." [A total lie.]
Later, and repeatedly, he would call to me over the bar "Marsha! Marsha! Marsha!" --which I could very well hear but chose to ignore-- until one of my friends would say "I think the bartender wants you." I would turn to the bar and there would be CJ asking:
"Do you need another drink?" [note full wine glass next to me]
"Would you like to order food?" [he knew we were waiting for a table for our group]
"Do you have this iPhone app?" [no explanation necessary]
Down boy, down! Am I wrong, or should bartenders be seen and not heard? He was like an overeager dog...and I had no interest in being his master.
Over all this time, CJ is texting Erin asking about me. She has relayed my disinterest in him....unfortunately a message that reached him but did not get THROUGH to him.
I left after 5 hours, paying for my entire dinner and the 3 glasses of wine and 1 beer I consumed. I was not comped anything.
As I exited the bar and was about to cross the street to my car I heard someone calling out "Marsha! Marsha! Bye!!!" I looked back and, of course, there's CJ. I offer a small wave and a weak "Oh, yeah, bye."
Well, it turns out he was talking to some girl as I left (I hadn't noticed) and he immediately texted Erin: "I hope Marsha doesn't think I have a girlfriend because I was talking to my friend Mary when she left!"
Ugh!!!
So now you can knock my local watering hole off of places to frequent, lest I accidentally encourage CJ's affection. Which is a real shame because they have a terrific Cobb Salad.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Who needs JCrew when you've got L.L. Bean?
And don't forget Land's End!
L.L. Bean is launching a new "Signature" line that is inspired by their classics but with modern styling:
http://www.llbeansignature.com/index.html
Land's End "Canvas" line (launched last November) focuses is their vintage-styled canvas and sailing heritage:
http://canvas.landsend.com/canvas/index.html
I'm looking forward to seeing more of the L.L. Bean line when it launches in full on March 15th. Somehow I doubt they will have $300 Levis jeans...
L.L. Bean is launching a new "Signature" line that is inspired by their classics but with modern styling:
http://www.llbeansignature.com/index.html
Land's End "Canvas" line (launched last November) focuses is their vintage-styled canvas and sailing heritage:
http://canvas.landsend.com/canvas/index.html
I'm looking forward to seeing more of the L.L. Bean line when it launches in full on March 15th. Somehow I doubt they will have $300 Levis jeans...
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The Restroom
It seems like I often find myself in unusual circumstances. Someone once told me that nothing particularly unusual happens to me, it's just that I choose to tell others about it. I disagree, and only partly because that comment came from a boring person who never has anything of interest to say.
Restrooms are particularly prone to "incidents", and I know I am not the only person who has been subjected to a restroom incident...or have caused one myself.
Cause of an incident:
On a recent workday I was busy from the moment I arrived at the office, although I did have time to grab a glass of water and cup of tea before settling in. But it was hours before I had a moment to heed nature's call. At my first available chance I dashed to the ladies' room and although I had company in there, my favorite stall was available.
With bladder bursting, I hiked my skirt to my waist and I tried to pull my tights down...only to discover they would not budge. I did some twisting and neck craning and discovered that the hook from the hook and eye at the back of my skirt had hooked itself into my tights and was holding fast. The tights were not going down without a fight.
Mind you, my bladder is urgently telling me to hurry, hurry, hurry! I do the pee pee dance to buy some time.
I try to unhook the tiny little hook, but it's not just caught, it's twisted in my fancy open-weave tights. I try to pull my skirt down with the tights, but only manage to bust a giant hole in the crotch of the tights. Don't ask how, I could not tell you. I will tell you they were expensive tights and I was angry that they were now ruined.
Finally, in I'm-going-to-wet-myself panic, I reach deep within me and with super-human strength I ripped the hook off my skirt, yanked the skirt up while simultaneously yanking my tights down and enjoy a long and wonderful pee. Yes, you know the kind I'm talking about. When I was done (after a comically-long length of time) I untwisted the hook from my tights and re-dressed.
So how was I the cause of an incident? It seems more like I was the victim given the debacle with the hook on my skirt. Well, the entire time I was battling my clothing someone was in the stall next to me, listening and most certainly wondering what was going on. The muttering, the tapping shoes during my pee pee dance, the ripping sound of the tights, and finally the popping sound of the hook being released from its resistant thread anchors on my skirt...whomever was in the stall next to me certainly had a restroom incident to tell their friends later. Although I'm pretty sure my 5 minute pee summed it all up.
Subject of an Incident:
I went to the carwash early one day a few weeks ago. It's the fancy car wash where you get out and they vacuum the interior, drive the car through for you and then you get it back on the other side all sparkly clean and dry.
I went into the lobby to pay and I realized "Gee, I have to pee" so I go to the restroom (a onesie that is gender neutral) and open the door.
Dear god. There's a carwash guy sitting on the can taking a dump! Jeans at his ankles, tighty-whitey's at his knees. "Excusa me! Excusa me," he's saying.
WTF, dude, lock the fucking door!!! Now two of us are traumatized.
I paid as quickly as I could and went outside to wait for my car, lest I be subject to any further embarrassment - like having to see the carwash dude using a towel to buff my car dry after I just saw him...you know.
Restrooms are particularly prone to "incidents", and I know I am not the only person who has been subjected to a restroom incident...or have caused one myself.
Cause of an incident:
On a recent workday I was busy from the moment I arrived at the office, although I did have time to grab a glass of water and cup of tea before settling in. But it was hours before I had a moment to heed nature's call. At my first available chance I dashed to the ladies' room and although I had company in there, my favorite stall was available.
With bladder bursting, I hiked my skirt to my waist and I tried to pull my tights down...only to discover they would not budge. I did some twisting and neck craning and discovered that the hook from the hook and eye at the back of my skirt had hooked itself into my tights and was holding fast. The tights were not going down without a fight.
Mind you, my bladder is urgently telling me to hurry, hurry, hurry! I do the pee pee dance to buy some time.
I try to unhook the tiny little hook, but it's not just caught, it's twisted in my fancy open-weave tights. I try to pull my skirt down with the tights, but only manage to bust a giant hole in the crotch of the tights. Don't ask how, I could not tell you. I will tell you they were expensive tights and I was angry that they were now ruined.
Finally, in I'm-going-to-wet-myself panic, I reach deep within me and with super-human strength I ripped the hook off my skirt, yanked the skirt up while simultaneously yanking my tights down and enjoy a long and wonderful pee. Yes, you know the kind I'm talking about. When I was done (after a comically-long length of time) I untwisted the hook from my tights and re-dressed.
So how was I the cause of an incident? It seems more like I was the victim given the debacle with the hook on my skirt. Well, the entire time I was battling my clothing someone was in the stall next to me, listening and most certainly wondering what was going on. The muttering, the tapping shoes during my pee pee dance, the ripping sound of the tights, and finally the popping sound of the hook being released from its resistant thread anchors on my skirt...whomever was in the stall next to me certainly had a restroom incident to tell their friends later. Although I'm pretty sure my 5 minute pee summed it all up.
Subject of an Incident:
I went to the carwash early one day a few weeks ago. It's the fancy car wash where you get out and they vacuum the interior, drive the car through for you and then you get it back on the other side all sparkly clean and dry.
I went into the lobby to pay and I realized "Gee, I have to pee" so I go to the restroom (a onesie that is gender neutral) and open the door.
Dear god. There's a carwash guy sitting on the can taking a dump! Jeans at his ankles, tighty-whitey's at his knees. "Excusa me! Excusa me," he's saying.
WTF, dude, lock the fucking door!!! Now two of us are traumatized.
I paid as quickly as I could and went outside to wait for my car, lest I be subject to any further embarrassment - like having to see the carwash dude using a towel to buff my car dry after I just saw him...you know.
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