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02.19.03 -
Wednesday
I took the day off Monday, and quietly observed the national holiday in a manner appropriate to canonizing our past figures of leadership.
That's right, I went to Old Navy. I ended up buying a rather cute pair of capri jeans and some flipflops, somehow convincing myself that I perhaps live somewhere a little less with the rain and the wind and the br-r-r-r and all.
I also had one of those unpleasant moments where you bring 4 pairs of jeans into a dressing room and 3 of them manage to squash all the fat from your entire body directly above the waistband so you have an alluring ROLL that can probably double as a flotation device in a pinch. Low rise jeans, you know? They just don't have the Containment Factor one wishes for sometimes.
Well, in my ongoing effort to reduce aforementioned rolls, I went to a kickboxing class Monday night. I've taken kickboxing before, but this was a hard class - the instructor had everyone doing a really long and complicated drill that apparently everyone else in the fucking universe either knows by heart or managed to pick up, but your hero, Little Miss Five Left Feet, could not.
I tried, I really did. Ok, front kick, back kick, jab, jab, uppercut, front kick, and...wait, what? Side kick? The hell? Why is everyone suddenly facing me? Oh, we're turning around. Fine. Now - jab? FUCK FUCK FUCK SLOW DOWN!!!
I always have a hard time going to an exercise class for the first time, because I think I'm going to look like a total moron, and you know? I'm always right. But despite the fact that I was scrambling to keep up in the class, I know I got a good workout, because even today I have many many various aches and pains. I had forgotten how kickboxing is fun, in a be! aggressive! B-E aggressive! way.
I was planning to hit the gym last night, too, therefore shattering the laws of space and time by working out two days in a row, but thankfully the universe was spared utter destruction by my coworkers suggesting post-office drinks. It was a good time which resulted in me calling JB for a ride home because apparently when you drink beer and then gin-and-tonics and THEN you decide to try a vanilla Stoli-and-coke, you get a wee bit tipsy.
There's a few people at Workplace I really enjoy and hope to stay in touch with long after we are no longer coworkers. I love when you meet cool people through your job. At my last place of employment, I shared a cube-quadrant with the hilarious Feng, who I often spent entire hours reciting random Simpsons quotes with.
Me: "Oh boy...sleep! That's where I'm a viking!"
(snickering)
Feng: "Allow me to summarize the proposed transaction: you wish to purchase Bonestorm for 99 cents. Net profit to me, negative $59."
(snickering)
Me: "Carnies built this country-the carnival part of it anyway -- and though they may be rat-like in appearance, they are truly kings among men."
(snickering)
Feng: "Ach! 'Tis no more than what God gave me, you puritan pukes!"
(even more snickering)
And so on. It was fun. Also, productive. Well not really.
I also worked with the uber-cool Peachy at Prior Workplace. We were in the same office when Seattle's 6.8 magnitude earthquake hit two years ago, and stared at each other as the building rocked back and forth (we were on the 29th floor) and Peachy said with incredible calm and poise, "Wow, this is really scary." She's all cool and collected like that. Me, I was busy trying not to crap my pants.
Since I share my workspace these days, I'm lucky to have an office-mate I get along with. It's hard to share a room with someone and not even be divided off into a cube farm, you know? The only trouble with Molly is that she's getting married in August. I don't know why seemingly normal women completely lose their minds when it comes to wedding planning - it's like the contents of their brain get scooped out with a melon baller and replaced with Bride magazine. I feel like the bedraggled groom, for chrissake, just continually nodding and saying "yeah that sounds nice." The caterer, the flowers, the jazz group, the dress, the bridesmaid's dress, the fucking cake topper, oh my god.
You know, I really thought I was going to be able to pull this disjointed-ass entry together here at the end, but there's just no goddamn way. So instead of a "well written closing" (please picture me doing the annoying air quote thing), I'll point you to Chiara, who also shopped at Old Navy on Monday.
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comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004
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