when the customer's are away...
In order to counterbalance the crappiness of having to be at work when everyone else in the world (except my sis) is off, at least my boss walked into the office today with the brilliant idea of "I think we should aim to do as little work as possible today." And really, I couldn't complain. Mostly we've spent the day emailing quizzes to each other (I love emode!!) and making up songs (I kicked some ass, took some names... the usual). I think we may even get in a couple of rounds of the stupid ninja game. Of course most of us here have turkey leftovers for lunch... let's see how many people pass out at their desks from too much trytophan. Not that it really matters; my usual phone call count has dropped from average 85 calls a day to maybe 30 today... you can hear the crickets chirping...

Yesterday my mom took a break from slaving over the stove to accompany me to latest and, sadly, last work by Niki de St. Phalle (the artist that commissioned the SunGod for you UCSD folks) called Queen Califia's Magical Circle in Kit Carson Park. It was pretty dang cool except for the dumbass security guard who was going around making up grandiose stories about the art which, to any educated head, were blatantly full of crap. I didn't mind that too much until I had to approach the fool and let him know that the 3 middle school girls that we had run off earlier were back and hacking at the art with a big ol' rock to stuff their pockets with tiger-eye stones (you should see this art, it's all mosaic made out of stones of all sorts: quartz, malachite, tiger's eye, etc). The guy, whose job it is is to guard the art from vandals simply looked at me and said "yeah, i'll be there in a minute." So leave it to the Trozzi women to run them off (we know how to threaten) and then watch as the security guard knocks out a couple while trying to prove us wrong. Riiiight. At least it gave us a good story to tell at the dinner table.

in no particular order:
* I was on hold for a grand total of 33 minutes with the City Parking Office today. When I got a live person, my phone call was less than 1 minute long.

* I was on the phone with a crazy for 32 minutes today. She was on hold for less than 1 minute. This is why "customer service" is part of my job description, and not so much in the description of any city official, office clerk, or their respective associates.

* 80's Lyrics Quiz: People are What? For someone who doesn't like the 80's, I surprisingly got an 83!

* In case I ever say the words "suck it up", Cynthia has been authorized to kill me. Just thought you should all know.

'tis the season
it seems that everyone's hooking up. Or maybe it's just that I need to get a bigger social circle, but for the sake of this argument, I'm going to say that everyone is hooking up. One of my cubicle neighbors, Shannon, has a lovely little story of her not-so-secret crush on a guy in HR finally asking her out the same day we were forcing her to send him a message. They're cute. Sickeningly sweet, but cute. Amy is practically moving in with her boy for the Thanksgiving festivities, so they'll be close and cozy for the rest of the week (and I'll have a swinging bachelorette pad... mmmhmm? (with arched brow)). My sis is happily clasping hands with a boy, despite our mom mentioning "how old is she? She should be making out with EVERYbody." (Note to self: mom = not best person to get advice on relationships unless you want to hear about all the people you SHOULD be hooking up with). And then there's Cyn, who was able to take advantage of a universal girlfriend tenet: if a guy you gave your number to asks to meet up with you, you can call a friend and have them come with you... safety in buffers, really. If he's cool, then you can bow out gracefully later in the evening, but if he's lame, then you can bail out your friend. Standard code of conduct. Luckily he turned out to be cool, so I went home, mostly for the fact that i get up way too early to allow any kind of night life. And even though I returned home solo, I have the feeling something's on the horizon, and I just might need to call on Cyn to back me up soon. Everybody else is doing it, why shouldn't I?

mantra for the week/end
I've gone to find myself.
Should I get here before I come back,
Please hold on to me until I return.

it's only fashion
last night i had to run into Henry's to get a salad before class and while trying to find the shortest line possible, I was invited over to a register that was technically closed to more customers. The cashier didn't seem to mind, though. As I put my selection on the conveyor belt and went through the usual pleasantries ("how are you tonight?" "i'm fabulous, and yourself?", etc), he ever-so-casually asked "so, where'd you get that shirt?" The shirt in question is printed with 'NAUGHTY - Amateur Home Videos'. Unquestionably an eyebrow-raiser. I told him that it was a gift from my roommate who got it from work, and he was still absolutely mesmerized. So much so that he charged me 3 times the amount for my salad. After another 15 minutes of him trying to void out the fact that he had an itchy-pricing finger, along with his mumbling of "oh geez, this is embarrassing", I was finally allowed out of the store with my shirt, my salad, and a stern warning of "you shouldn't wear that in grocery stores."

can't find it on ebay
... we sought a Dave&Buster's martini set, but instead found a man with no pants walking down University Ave. Actually I found the man, Darius found a green light. Ahh, the great adventures continue!

This weekend was quite fun and gratefully restful despite having places to go and people to see at all moments. My usual Friday night date and I met up for dinner and a movie, Saturday I ditched practice after working with the kids for a bit (the little monsters drove me to it! kidding, they're fun. Disrespectful, but fun) and went to a wonderfully reunionous (i like making up new words) wedding where I got to see a bunch of people from my former days of moonlighting as an RA, and finished off the day charming Charlie the bartender into giving us some free key lime pie. On Sunday, Darius and I looked for fun stuff across town; details withheld to protect the currently innocent.

And to top it off, here's the quote of the weekend: "People are CRAZY about their porn!"

as if anyone doubted that i was a city girl, through and through
Nighttime, driving down the freeway and cresting a slight incline, I always look forward to being greeted by the dazzling display of a hundred broken rainbows scattered across the horizon that is the downtown skyline. I'm even amused if a plane flies by, though the amusement definitely lessens the closer they fly over my house.

a ray of sunshine in these dark clouds

"You are a blessing to pets of all kinds!"
In a job with so much negativity thrown at me, it's nice to be appreciated once in a while...

and I do this because why?
i was hoping that today at karate would be pretty low-key... and it was... until i got kicked in the back of the neck. Kinda walked into it (she was aiming for the side of my head) Yeah, that hurt. I wasn't too concerned about it though until some random stranger came by to do a check-up on me (I was laying on the floor with ice on it, trying not to be too dizzy) and told me "you need to get to a doctor. NOW."

slight alarm.

No worries, though. All's well except for the whiplash factor. Other than that, it looks like I should probably work on blocking in the future...

and you wonder where I get it from
Dad: "Oh... are you drunk?"
Me: "What?! Why would you ask me that?"
Dad: "You sound giddy."
Me: "I always sound like this."
((Loud talking in the backround))
Dad: "Mom wants to know if you've tried Smirnoff Black-something."
Me: "Uhh, no. Maybe YOU guys are drunk."
Dad: "Huh. Maybe."

Me: "Well, that's how I got my last boy."
Mom: "What last boy??"
Me: "The one you said 'I don't want no little ((edited)) runnin' around.'"
Mom: "Oh yeah. ... That was a while ago. I think it's time you found a new boy. It's been long enough of a dry spell."
Me: "Yeah, tell me about it."

HONORABLE MENTION
Mom: "I think I'll just drop dead. I don't want to get old."

And those, ladies and gentlemen, are my parents. Ya gotta love 'em.

funny, the things you miss
My work is so freakin' cold I bet we could get Health Association approval to store meat at our desks. The bathrooms are worse. You need to bundle up just to go wash your hands in that arctic tundra.

Speaking of those who may be ch-ch-ch-chilly, I spoke to Kelly last night all the way out there in "Snow Country" Niigata. Thankfully she had "called in sick" (aka skipped school) and was home so I could hear that lovely Irish voice. Unfortunately my "30 minute phone card" cut out after about 15 minutes, so although we got to check in with each other a little bit, she was gone before I could request for her to send over a couple of those heated toilet seats. Bummer. Literally.

a thing to make you go "hmmm"
No one really knows my phone number at work, and actually only one person has ever called me here, but even he didn't use my extension. In order to reach my voicemail, you have to dial my extension. So how strange was it when I found that I had a voicemail the other day and when I checked it, it was a 3 minute message of "La la la, la la la la la, can't get you outta my head, boy you're all that I think about." And that was it. No name, no number, no message... well, other than what the song was saying. Hmmm...

idioms dat gots to go
"got __________?" - This was a fantabulous marketing device when it came out for "got milk?" But it's DONE now. Please let this retire, people, c'mon.
"extreme" - as in 'extreme entertainment' a TV station was using to promote their evening lineup, 'extreme value savings' in a local grocery store, Robert's favorite "Most Extreme Challenge", and 'extreme makeovers'... as opposed to those half-assed ones?

ghandi would be so proud
picture a lovely little cafe on the waterfront. You are doctoring up your large coffee with the usual 9 packets of sugar (okay, maybe like 5) and half-cup of cream, and find it necessary to stir your new potion, only to discover that the coffee stirrer is about an inch shorter than the cup. What do you do? Burn your fingers? Only stir what can be reached, thus ignoring the layer of sludgy sugar on the bottom? Or register your protest with a tone of irony to your fantabulous friend with you, loud enough for the person behind the counter to say "use a straw." She obviously missed the point. Fast forward a few weeks to the same lovely cafe. You order the same drink, and reaching for a stirrer, you draw your hand back in surprise. Nestled neatly between the straws and the standard-sized stirrers, you find an elongated solution: the super-sized stirrer long enough to scrape up the sugar on the bottom without scalding your phalanges. Register your delight of "being the change you want to see in the world" by calling your fantabulous friend and gloating about the small success in stirring up this crazy world.

gimme an 'O'! gimme a 'W'!
OwieowieowieOW, I got a really stiff neck from Saturday's sleep, making my drive to LA yesterday a somewhat dangerous situation. I was tempted to put a sign in my back window apologizing to anyone who I might have cut-off because I couldn't turn my head to check my blind spot. Whoops. Unfortunately it didn't clear up, so last night I got no sleep and today I'm hoping no one sneaks up behind me because dang that would hurt.

Chalk yesterday up to the 3rd or 4th time I've ventured out of San Diego on my own; yay for adventures! I was off to fulfill my role as Ryuei Ryu cheerleader at a karate tournament. Karate isn't exactly what you would call a "spectator sport", so it's nice to have someone up in the stands yelling some encouragement or tips on exactly how to beat up the person you are fighting against. That kind of support is always appreciated. Yesterday, however, I didn't get a chance to yell a single "Gambare!!" because the tourney officials needed someone with a booming voice to announce names and scores at one of the tables. They were taping the advanced divisions and needed someone whose voice could be heard on camera. Lo and behold, they turned to me, so I was stuck being official and professional. Boo to that. Along with the job came the responsibility of teaching the boy scouts (literally) at the table how to add scores and having to pick up the medals that fell off the table when Kayleen stomped the ground hard during her kata. And, of course, trying not to laugh when that happened, or trying not to make a face like "what the...?!" (y'know, the "britt face") when I saw people doing some really funky stuff. That was the hardest part of the job.

Despite being separated from my group and having to swallow all the enthusiasm, I still had fun. I like these fools, it's fun to hang out with them. Except when sensei calls me by the wrong name, then follows it up with a comment that my hair looks like a cartoon. 0 for 2, buddy. Writing notes to fools I know on the freeway is always a fun time, too, even if I do make them blush. Hehehe, it's part of the job.