Yerks in the Workplace = Yerks in Life

This week came after an amazing weekend on my beautiful homeland of Long Beach Island, NJ.  For the past 5 years a group of my friends has put together what we refer to as The Barcycle.  We rent beach cruisers, start at the northern end if the island in Barnegat Light and ride south to Beach Haven stopping at each bar along way.  This year I had some out of towners join in the on the fun and it made for a new, exciting experience.  Sunday evening my boyfriend and I returned home to Maryland for a quick week of work before heading back up to the dirty for our biggest weekend 4th of July.  Not only is it 4th of July, its also my best lady's birthday & our annual BBQ. 

The week began anxiously.  There was no time to mope around about the past weekend and the fun we had that came to an end because we had something amazing to look forward to.  So I planned to take each day in stride to make it to the finish line.  And that is where my plan went wrong.

In the middle of the Sunday night I wake up to my adorable pup Sophie sick.  She isn't her usual bile sick, she's actually throwing up - never happens.  So She gets sick, I give her a little rub and its back to bed.  Wrong again.  A few hours later she's up and sick again.  This now goes on for the rest of the night.  In the midst of all of this I realize I want no part of a new born child and if my boyfriend groans at me again about the blankets moving I'm throwing the vomit on him.  Monday morning Sophie and I are finally getting some sleep and I realize oh I have work and while there is usually no issue with me working from home, before I left to barcycle on Friday the VP of my department told me to be at work on Monday otherwise everyone would know why I wasn't - wonderful.  I grab my phone and text a friend to tell her to tell everyone Sophie is sick and I'll be in as soon as I can.  I get Soph up, walked, fed, watered and all seems well so I go into work.  Business as usual.

Wednesday morning rolls around, I now must go into work 30 mins early because I have to go shadow a meeting at one of our field offices (the office my boyfriend happens to work in).  Myself and two other individuals roll up to this field office and I may as well have gotten hit by a car, because honestly I probably would have been in a better mood. 

We sit down to have a quick meeting with a few members of office leadership.  I watch their reactions: interest from the new guy, glazed over for about everyone else.  Then one of them happens to get drawn back into the conversation and that is when the defense mechanism kicks in.  You would think I was sitting across the table from one of those Germans who insists the Holocaust didn't happen.  All the while I listen and try my best not to make any faces.  Until he tries to lie to me and tell me that he and the other leadership are "caring" and a bunch of other adjectives that they probably couldn't even show me an example of.  That is when I through all office etiquette to the wind and begin to text message.  My message to my boyfriend out in the main part of the office read, "I have never encountered an individual more full of shit than (insert name here)"...  Aside from this he in a jerkish way asked who I was, what I did & then discredited all of this because I've been with the company for only 9 months.  Now I've completely checked out and am starting to vividly hate these men sitting across from me.  Let's just say the meeting ending with him asking me if I had any questions, aside from "who the hell hired you?  and "doesn't your mother hate you?"  I did not.  He then proceeds to THROW his business card in my face which then lands on the ground.  I have never hated an individual more. 

Well that encountered resulted in me being a grouch all day, referring to my desk as my trash can and spending the entire night googling videos of Dave Chappelle's Sesame Street skit to cheer myself up.  I was fully aware I was a delight to be around and tried my best to reverse this, auto correct fails really seemed to help - they are hysterical.

And here we are, its Friday, its Lauren's birthday, the start of 4th of July weekend, the day before my epic BBQ, and the first time I've seen my girlfriends since Christmas.  I, however had to come into work to meet with Big Mr. Fancy Pants I Yell at People in Meetings and Keep Getting Promoted.  Meanwhile I have been having nightmares and eye twitches about this meeting for months, I'm prepared to present my work and ready to get torn into only to tear right back.  I get to work an hour early today to prep for my pre-meeting meeting with 2 of my favorite bosses, print everything & am off.  Well I should probably point out that I know how fancy Big Mr. Fancy Pants is, so I asked weeks ago if he'd actually be in the the Friday before 4th of July, I was told yes.  So it comes as no surprise that of course HE WASN'T!  Not only because its the Friday before the 4th of July, but because it is also his birthday.  Seriously, why the hell would you accept the outlook invite!?!?!?? Is it funny to make a young girl twitch?  Do you get your kicks out of making people think of alternative reactions when you scream?  Or are you just a yerk like the POS I met on Wednesday?  I vote all of the above.  So here I am at work, with absolutely nothing on my schedule - when I could have returned to my beautiful serene homeland last night.  Now I have to wait for Chad to get off work, so in the meantime I shall sit here & think about how everyone is at the beach.

So back to the title of this.  Yerks.  Honestly, who even invites them?  No one likes yerks, yerks shouldn't get ahead, so I beg to ask how did it get this far?  Were they once nice individuals and have become heartless over time, or have they always had sewage running thru their veins?  Either way, stay jovial kids because once you become a yerk people start blogging behind your back.

If the rapture happened, I wouldn't have had to write this blog...

Springtime: flowers, birds, sundresses, weddings, bees, locusts, and the plague… all things I love about this time of year!

Most people would find pure jubilation in having a year’s worth of weddings booked; I however am not most people.  It’s exciting when your first friends get engaged, it’s even better when your favorite friends get engaged, but it’s damn right rude when every couple you know gets engaged and plans immediate weddings.  Doesn’t anyone believe in a long engagement anymore?  I’ve been dating my boyfriend for almost 6 years and I still plan to have an engagement that is at least a year and half long.  Why, you may ask?  Well, that’s because I’m a kind, conscientious, caring type of gal and I’m not a spoiled rotten brat.

Now that I’ve subtly told you how I feel, I should probably explain the focus of this posting.  Weddings, holiday weekend weddings, holiday weekend weddings at beach resorts, and the Long Island Serial Killer.  I should point out that this in its entirety isn’t coming from a dark, sinister place (it just sounds that way) and I actually really do love my friends… I just hate them practically most of the time. 

A little bit of history, I grew up in LBI, NJ; a land of sun, fun, teen night & debaucherous adventures.  This weekend is Memorial Day weekend, the day LBI comes alive – literally they just turned the traffic lights on today for the first time since September.  Although, I loathe the weekends when tourists come around, I desperately miss my gfs & would sit in traffic for months to roll around in the sand with them for a few hours.  Whelp, I won’t be doing any of that because I have a wedding.  A wedding on Memorial Day (what if I were a veteran?) on Long Island – here is where another level of my annoyance emerges.  While usually I’d be pumped to have something else to do which would prevent me from having to make the mecca home to sit in traffic with a bunch of NYers, this is not the case because the wedding is in a beach town all of its own.  So now I must sit through rush hour in MD, NJ, & the beautiful state of NY on the Friday of MDW.  (Point, my cousin had a wedding 4^th of July weekend a few years ago in the Asbury area – equally as rude and shouldn’t be overlooked).

So here I am in Long Island with some people from college, who I can almost guarantee have never had to pay for a damn thing in their entire lives.  So I will arrive and be bombarded by a gaggle of men no taller than 5’7” demanding that my boyfriend and I party, do shots & leave settling into the hotel until Sunday morning.  I should probably mention that this group of friends is concerned pretty much entirely with themselves and will say “yo man, run back to your room to shower and we’ll wait here” then after we shower and return to our meeting place we’ll realize that as soon as we leave their line of vision they totally forget we exist.  Then we’ll be haggled for the rest of the time because “where have we been” and “what? Are we too cool to hang with everyone” Seriously, get a clue! 

And the bride and groom, totally acceptable lovely individuals.  This is where I force myself to find something wrong with the situation.  In this case, it’s the fact that like all of our other friends these two are indeed spoiled rotten.  Sure, they actually work and didn’t move home right after college, but did they have to pay for their own place in the city – I doubt it.  And did they have to pay for a cent of this wedding – I absolutely doubt it.  This makes me bitter for a few reasons, which I will quickly summarize and then move on, I have paid for everything, including my rent since my sophomore year of college, I haven’t lived with mine or anyone else’s parents since I was 18 yrs old in high school, I am being forced to travel to 6 weddings this year – pay for accommodations & a gift, because of this I will probably have to skip my favorite friend’s wedding in Punta Cana, and I’m trying to buy a GD house.  Forget the fact that I’ve decided I will never be able to have a wedding of my own because who the hell is going to pay for it?  Clearly not my parents and I’m not doing it so it’s settled no wedding for Cortney.  So I’m bitter and green with envy – I can admit it. 

In my recent wedding rebellion I’ve decided I am in fact not going to this wedding.  Sure, I RSVP’d and of course my boyfriend will drag me up to Long Island this Friday, but I have other plans.  I have a date with the Long Island Serial Killer.  In the past few weeks I’ve taken quite a liking to craigslist and its many scams, all of which seem to come from some man & his wife who live in West African (at least pick a real country buddy, and no that isn’t a typo they said African not Africa).  I figure with this new skill I can surely lure him.  Also, while running the Ragnar Relay last week I was able to test out just how fast I can run from a serial killer and as long as this guy doesn’t have a 7 min mile, I think I have a pretty good shot.  I’m so dedicated to this cause that I’m not even pretending like I’m going to the wedding, I have no dress, no hair style, no nothing and you know why, because I’M NOT GOING!! I’m going to pull out the cheapest looking thing I have (think back to freshman year Halloween as a Fly Girl) and hit the streets or the beach whatever.  I’ll get my date nice and liquored up while he’s getting ready and then I’ll just casually step out to the restroom before the ceremony.  Next thing anyone knows, they’ve already cut the cake and no one has realized I’m missing. 

You may think this scheme is hare-brained or illogical, have no fear I’ll be wearing my roadID, so if my plan doesn’t work out accordingly they’ll be able to easily use my roadID and this posting to figure out who the latest craigslist prostitute (that’s what they think) is.  I figure I’ll shoot out a couple of ads this week and then just wait to see what happens on Saturday.  I, at some point, should probably map out police stations and other things to figure out where the best place to lure this dude is.  Or since it could be someone with law enforcement knowledge, I’ll take a Dexter like approach.  Anyway I hold no prisoners so whomever I happen to come across or whoever happens to be walking behind me this weekend is in for quite the situation.  I’ll pretty much be a hero to the citizens of NY and then I will use that power to ban them all from travelling to LBI, which will in-turn result in the most fabulous Memorial Days, 4ths of Julys, and Labor Days this girl has ever had. 

But, truthfully kids why don’t you consult a calendar before you book a wedding or don’t expect people to come.  I literally told my mom when she told me she was getting remarried, “I’m book through 2012”, so what does she do make her wedding the day before my favorite friends!  THE DAY BEFORE!  So what do I do in return, make her change it.  I said until 2012 lady and I meant it, but instead let’s squeeze one more wedding in, don’t worry I can afford useless flights to Georgia, I mean who doesn’t love a town that has its post office in a Sears.

Still here... Still counting points

I declare here in front of the world (or the 2 people who know this exists) that I will make at least a 1 posting weekly. There I said it, may lightening strike if I don't keep my word. Well, I'm still on WW and wake up every day hoping pizza has become a powerfood. I am a little over 9lbs down; and if anything I've learned to stop giving myself a tummy ache for entertainment. So last weekend was Flipadelphia and let's just say they should have named it F-upadelphia. After weeks of anticipation and practice rounds we make the pilgrimage to Philly to compete & take home the gold. Yeah, that didn't really happen - why you may ask? Because it seemed more like a sick social experiment then any type of organized drinking activity I've ever been a part of. Maybe it's a sign you are getting old when you can't even enjoy a good binge because of lack of organization. If you happened to be in the City of Brotherly Love last weekend you may have spotted four Ugg adorned Justin Biebers frolicking through the city. Welp, that was us and you would think in a city of drunks, tons of whom are wearing matching outfits no one would question our attire. If you're calling out 4 20 somethings for dressing a-like while you yourself are trotting down Broad Street dressed as woman you need to check your diversity meter Sir. Speaking of Diversity, if you ever have the opportunity to attend a Diversity Champion training by Franklin-Covey please do it! I was fortunate enough to be part of a company who is fully on this bandwagon; and while I was dreading it before and during the class I would totally do it again. Do it, google it, tell your PD department you need them because trust me YOU do. Well since I'm a bit out of season I don't have too much ammo, but have no fear all ears are open for ridiculous events occurring all around me. Peace, Love & The Streets of Philadelphia

The Hunger Within

While you may have assumed by the title that in my blogging absence I have suddenly become more existential, thought provoking, or wise - well you were wrong.

The hunger within mentioned above is just that - pure, savage hunger.

I decided yesterday, against my better judgement to join weight watchers. Why you may ask, considering I just ran a 200 mile relay from Miami to Key West. Well it's because I think back to my freshman year of college & fondly recall my prior attempt with the diet program. When I used to eat lettuce w/ salt & pepper in order to save all of my points for beer. It was such a pleasant experience why not try again?

So here I am 30 hrs in & determined to eat everything that crosses my path. The mere idea of limiting food intake has sent my body into a panic which is mainly represented as a insatiable hunger. The more I eat, the hungrier I am - the more I say you can't have it, the more I physically need it. And there goes 20 of my extra points for the week....

I've already figured a few things out... My delish penne rosa from Noodles & Co blows compared to a vegetable chili. And even the chili is put to shame when I found a Chicken w/scallion sauce recipe that is only 3 points. 3 READ EM 3 POINTS! When I go home I can 5 servings of chicken if I'd like & hopefully all the vegetables in the world.

I suppose you should credit my return to my grand friends L & S who are apparently boycotting exchanging emails with me at work until I post a new entry. Well Miss L told me some fab ideas together regarding our WW venture. I hate sandwiches, turkey & tomatoes but I'll be damned if I am not pumped to make myself a 3 point sandwich... I could have 9 sandwiches a day & if I'm still not full then I'm the new Monica Gellar (think flashback to the Thanksgiving episode where Chandler calls Monica fat & in turn she decides after 14 yrs she is full).

So anywho here I am determined to be more "aerodynamic" for Ragnar NY than I was for Ragnar KW... Let's see how it goes...

PS. did you know a hotdog from Five Guys is 15 points!?!?! A FREAKING HOT DOG IS 15 POINTS!!! I can't even have 2 hotdogs in a day, what a shame! I blame our creator (whomever you choose them to be) for allowing humans to gain weight & making delicious food terrible for you... so take that God, Allah, Muhammad, Lady Gaga whoever it was... I'm pissed

Towel gloves & Mop shoes?

At times I find my only solace in the office is the bathroom. It is a place where I can escape from my cube, give my eyes a rest, wrangle my anxiety in a confined space, and waste time until the bell rings. This week I have the pleasure of visiting the facilities on the main level, which one would assume would be high class as it is where visitors are directed. Well like the rest of the building this are automatic flushers, which is great if I didn't have to foot flush after or in place of. Then I just have a mild panic attack that it will never flush, then what will the person who walks in as I walk out think??!? This downstairs restroom also has fancy containers that are changed at predetermined intervals. I think they have recently be replaced as I have enjoyed a light citrus smell that I hadn't noticed until yesterday.

On to the topic at hand, the hand sanitizing device is empty, so I am left with old fashioned cleansing methods, which is no big deal - whatevs. However, as I stood practically in the doorway for 5 mins trying to get the paper towel to dispense from the "wave 'n dry", being handed tissue sized pieces to dry my hands I realize why they decided to title this product the way they did. Magically, my hands were dry! Not from the paper towels I worked up a sweat trying to obtain, but from the fact that I had waved my hands back and forth furiously enough to air dry them. Perhaps this is part of my company's attempt to go green? Who knows, but now I understand why there was a roll of paper towels on the counter.

Another observation I have made are droplets of liquid leading from the stall to the door or vice versa. Honestly, I am not too concerned with which direction it is going in, but more important who is responsible for this and why. Did someone really have to go? Were they rushed out of the stall at gunpoint mid-pee? I guess we'll never know. But its gross either way. I'm the type of person who cares wayyyyyyy to much what people think of me (reason why only 3 people know about this blog) so maybe it bothers me so much because I would never want someone to have the same feelings about this situation as I - back to my persistence regarding the flushing in public restrooms. Again, it is gross and I'm considering alerting the security guard in order to setup a stakeout & catch the culprit. What am I stepping in!!! I need to know...


Everyone should go through life as if there is a hidden camera following them at all times. This is what I do and hey misery loves company.

Victim of the Day: Mens dress shoes

Or perhaps the real victim here is the men who are forced to wear them. As I once again spend the week observing a training session I am reminded of my first thought of when I sat in sales training a few weeks ago, these guys shoes are horrendous. Compared to women, men's dress shoe choices may not be as vast, but there are still options. For instance in a room of 10 men at this moment I see 8 or 9 totally different shoes, whether it be color, material, heel, cut, laces, etc. there is not one I would pull off the rack at the department store.

I think back to last weekend as I was mining (yes it's an appropriate verb) thru my laundry room and came upon a secret shoe cavern created by my boyfriend. Not only did I question where the shoes came from and when they got here, but they were so ugly I literally tossed them off the shelf with one finger as if they were covered in poo.

I guess I should pose some questions to the designers (ekk) of these high heel counterparts...

- Who?!?! Requires a giant rubber sole while at the office? I'm not sure the benefits of a rubber sole in general, but is the corporate carpet that treacherous that it warrants extra arch support??

- Now that this slip-on phenom has begun, who still has the time for laces? As I scan the fashion sense of my male co-workers I quickly rule out any and all pairs with laces... This isn't a wedding or 1932... Clean it up guys. Really.

- As for the slip-ons, what extra feature does elastic around the "tongue" provide? Is it to make you look sporty? I'm thinking it is just to tick me off....

- What goes thru a guys mind when he is selecting a dress shoe with a heel? Again these mostly come with the old timer laced jaunt - but really why a heel? It is not for height or to make your legs longer, so what gives?

- The faux boot/dress shoe.... I'm not even going to formally address it, but Boston I'm calling you out big time... and I know those don't work in the snow.

- Currently, I can count 3 varying levels of shine/sheen... Again what is the thought process here? Unless it is 1932 or if you work at a Speakeasy then there is no one waiting around to shine your shoes so why even bother. The in-betweener just looks messy and it very well could be someone (who still thought they were a 7 yr old little boy) bought the shiny pair ("ohhh shiny I want one" Corey Matthews) and is too lazy or doesn't live close enough to mommy to have them shined.. And I'm not even giving them grief because I wouldn't shine that shiz anyway, its 2010. Matte is the way to go for everyday - end of that reflective story.

From here on out I will dedicate at least 20mins of all trips to DSW to finding an acceptable pair of dress shoes. I'm not looking for a miracle, I know at least in my opinion men's footwear will always be ugly. (In part due to the large size, I even hate my own shoes being a size 9 & am constantly in fear of looking like I'm walking around on golf clubs instead of legs)

Men's fashion has drastically improved since my youth, but who decided to ignore shoes? Maybe, this is a new business venture I stumbled upon... Or maybe I'll just start to hate men's feet and will never be able to approve of an outfit again unless it includes flip flops or UGGs.

I must interject that is it 100% acceptable for guys to wear UGGs. Let me explain for those of you not acquainted with this trend. Growing up at the beach UGGs have always been a part of my life (I'm not really sure why, but we LOVE them)... Guys have always worn UGGs, they didn't even have them for women until the late 1990s. I always ask my boyfriend if I got him a pair, would he wear them. He always replies, "Yeah, if I had a pair like the slip-ons you have." The slip-ons I have and haven't worn since 2004 are CLOGS I asked for my senior yr of high school and are for teenage girls! They also have a fur trim around the top of the foot, why oh why would he ever want these? After he got this explanation enough, he then requested the shorty ankle boot - which I also have a pair of. NOOOOO, wearing ankle booty UGGs is not the manly decision here. The classic short is what guys wear, in sand, chestnut, or black. I would probably judge if I saw a guy rocking a chocolate pair so I left that off the list. Have I mentioned that UGGs are the best thing to wear when taking a nap... I'd schlep in from class back to my dorm and pass out immediately on my bed with my UGGs on = amazing. Go home and do it tonight! I swear it will be the best nap you've had since preschool.

Ladies, this holiday season take a look in your man's closet... Then when you're at the mall please help him out! Gents, before you leave the house tomorrow morning - take a glance down. If you snarl that is a sign to make a stop by the trash can on your way in that night and to do some online shopping... If I happen to find any non-hideous pairs I'll send them your way!

And since its holiday season lets all be thankful for the fall of zuma pants from the male wardrobe!

One thing is for sure, energy certainly cannot be created

Happy Black Friday!

I should start by saying that this Thanksgiving was certainly unlike any I have ever had before. I started by day by waking up at 6am, hemming & hawing over what I should eat, if I should go back to bed, etc. Then around 7:30 I go to head out to run my first 7k and decide to take a gander out of the window. RAIN, of course! I hardly have appropriate winter running gear, let alone rain gear - who the hell does anything in the rain? I wake up my boyfriend to ask him what I should do (secretly hoping he tells me to go back to bed), I'm advised to throw on a rain coat and/or a poncho. Luckily, I have recently added both to my wardrobe since Baltimore is conveniently located in the middle of Seattle.

The entire drive downtown I am thinking - I can't believe its raining. I received an email about parking, yet no one has thought to email me about the rain. I'm going to catch a cold and become deathly ill - I have zero time off from my new job. Should I wear my raincoat or my poncho - both happen to be red so color choice was not part of the decision. I finally decide alright, the raincoat may be more uncomfortable and restricting - however it does provide warmth which a poncho does not. I choose the raincoat and head in to check-in for the race. Well, aren't I the cats meow running in my Steve Madden raincoat in a sea of devoted Under Armour patrons. Not only am I the most fashionable, but I decided that is was essential to keep my head dry during this potential disaster that is the Gobble Cobble Turkey Trot.

So I begin the race as little red riding hood, choosing to hang back to avoid early exhaustion which is what happened at my 5k the week prior. I quickly realize the rhythmic thumping of my hood on my hairline is going to drive me nuts before I'm even a 1/4 of a mile in and I lose the hood. Honestly, I could feel the other runners respect for me rise as soon as it fell onto my shoulders. Now I must deal with my hood strings jingle-jangling in front of my face - this is an issue that I had to revisit often throughout my run. However, my hood and fashionable raincoat quickly become concerns of the past when I realized why it is called the Gobble Cobble and not Gobble Gobble. I am now running in the rain on cobblestone! Cobblestone!!! If you have ever visit the Fells Point section of Baltimore, you can attest that the workmanship on these stones is not the best and you may even think half of them are missing. Now I am battling other runners for sidewalk space and praying I don't break an ankle 8mins in.

Out of Fells Point and onto the Inner Harbor, which happens to be one of my faves. All the while I have been encouraged by Baltimore's finest who happen to be blocking the road and directing me - both of which I am greatly appreciative for. I now reach the end of the race, alive and with my super fancy raincoat tied around my waist. I'd love to share the time I finished in (especially because I think it is 15mins faster than what I allowed myself) but I was never told a time. I am praying it is put on the website sometime before next Thanksgiving. Or I'll just lie and tell everyone I finished in 20mins and am the next Steve Prefontaine.

I drag myself back to Howard county to then immediately shower and head to MoCo for thanksgiving dinner. Thanksgiving goes on and on, somehow I am still awake and walking - although I wished for neither. Finally make it home, pass out, wake up on the couch - go to bed, pass out... Wake up this morning for WORK (on the holiest of all holy days) and still feel like half of myself is missing.

The energy I exuded yesterday during my run.... I'd like to know where it is and who the hell stole it because it certainly is no longer with me. So here I sit at work - alone, tired & wishing I had eye drops. Sure I get to leave in an hour, but I must drive directly to the metro (I loathe the metro even more than a real train) and proceed to the nation's capital to watch the great Alexander Ovechkin embarrass some Canadians. And while I should sound pumped, especially since we have box seats - all I can think about is the absurd metro ride home and then the drive home. I get metro sick, and it doesn't help when 4000 of your closest friends hop on, reeking of beer, and screaming about a sport they don't even understand.

All the while my poor adorable puppy waits at home alone. Well hopefully she's at home because I overheard coworkers talking about a dead dog on the side of rt 100... I already ambushed them with a zillion questions as to the location, type of dog, size of dog, etc. It really couldn't be Sophie unless she was headed to Annapolis for some reason and if this kid thinks a Yorkie is a mid-sized dog.

I know she doesn't have my energy since I had to drag her out of bed this morning for a walk. So where is it? Huh Mr. Newton? I need to know and I refuse to wait until Sunday evening to find it.

Either way I hope there is a bed in the box at Verizon Center because it has my name all over it....