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Can you have too many pickles on a Hummus sandwich? I think not. For starters, how expensive are they? They're not. So lay them on there. This is me being disappointed with the Hummus on Rye sandwich I picked up at My Organic Market today. Needs more pickle! There's my personal version of the cowbell.
The lobster mac and cheese needs more work. Although consuming large quantities of butter, garlic, cheese, pasta and lobster certainly didn't SUCK...but I can make it better. And that whole "ready in 35 minutes..." Huh. Clearly the recipe writer wasn't drinking copious amounts of wine/champers! I'll post it when it gets better.
I saw a woman today who was a little bit younger than I was, but tall and bigboned, blonde, good chest on her. But the b*tch was wearing this little black skirt and tights, a neato houndstooth shawl and fabulous heels that had a big black bow on them. And she looked fabulous. And I hated her for it. Wanted to knock her off those tall heels. I could be her. Except that you'd have to STAPLE a shawl on me to get it to drape right and stay on. And the only way I could wear heels that high would be to teeter precariously for a few minutes and then sit down before I snapped an ankle or broke a toe. I have spent the rest of the afternoon in a frump funk. Thank goodness I came back to work to find out that I have a date with some experts who are going to help me go shopping. Although not for My Organic Market attire...
I'm 150 pages from the end of 19th Wife, a fascinating book that weaves the the founding of Mormonism and the story of the modern day Firsts (the split off "cult" that still practices polygamy) together into one story and I am loving it. But it's a 21 day book with no renewals and I didn't start reading it until a week ago. And now I'm acting like some kind of junkie, getting by on less than optimal sleep so that I can get more of it read because each day it's out it costs me twenty-five cents! That's right, ladies and gentlemen, less than $2 a week and I'm freaking out. I have that much in spare change rolling around the floor of the driver's side of my car. But still. It's overdue! Augh! I won't make a u-turn to save 5 cents a gallon on a tank of gas, but I will suffer fatigue to avoid library fines.
And finally, after a meeting where the-powers-that-be explained exactly what was involved in adding a new distributor to our system -- hours and hours of work for each of us. We can't do it the simple way because then there'd be no audit trail. The system can't do it the simple way because it wasn't designed to do what we're asking it to do. So, instead we are going to have to do this painstakingly manual, labor intensive data entry to keep the system audit beast happy. On top of rolling out of a new form last week that has added hours more to our whole process. So I remarked today, as we were standing around, shaking heads, laughing because crying wasn't an option, secretly suspecting that our company wasn't going to do layoffs, per se, just make it so difficult to do our jobs that threw up our arms and laid ourselves off...I said:
"Wow, we're so good at making things hard, we should be bottling this and selling it to old men."
She shoots, she scores, she gets reported to HR!
The lobster mac and cheese needs more work. Although consuming large quantities of butter, garlic, cheese, pasta and lobster certainly didn't SUCK...but I can make it better. And that whole "ready in 35 minutes..." Huh. Clearly the recipe writer wasn't drinking copious amounts of wine/champers! I'll post it when it gets better.
I saw a woman today who was a little bit younger than I was, but tall and bigboned, blonde, good chest on her. But the b*tch was wearing this little black skirt and tights, a neato houndstooth shawl and fabulous heels that had a big black bow on them. And she looked fabulous. And I hated her for it. Wanted to knock her off those tall heels. I could be her. Except that you'd have to STAPLE a shawl on me to get it to drape right and stay on. And the only way I could wear heels that high would be to teeter precariously for a few minutes and then sit down before I snapped an ankle or broke a toe. I have spent the rest of the afternoon in a frump funk. Thank goodness I came back to work to find out that I have a date with some experts who are going to help me go shopping. Although not for My Organic Market attire...
I'm 150 pages from the end of 19th Wife, a fascinating book that weaves the the founding of Mormonism and the story of the modern day Firsts (the split off "cult" that still practices polygamy) together into one story and I am loving it. But it's a 21 day book with no renewals and I didn't start reading it until a week ago. And now I'm acting like some kind of junkie, getting by on less than optimal sleep so that I can get more of it read because each day it's out it costs me twenty-five cents! That's right, ladies and gentlemen, less than $2 a week and I'm freaking out. I have that much in spare change rolling around the floor of the driver's side of my car. But still. It's overdue! Augh! I won't make a u-turn to save 5 cents a gallon on a tank of gas, but I will suffer fatigue to avoid library fines.
And finally, after a meeting where the-powers-that-be explained exactly what was involved in adding a new distributor to our system -- hours and hours of work for each of us. We can't do it the simple way because then there'd be no audit trail. The system can't do it the simple way because it wasn't designed to do what we're asking it to do. So, instead we are going to have to do this painstakingly manual, labor intensive data entry to keep the system audit beast happy. On top of rolling out of a new form last week that has added hours more to our whole process. So I remarked today, as we were standing around, shaking heads, laughing because crying wasn't an option, secretly suspecting that our company wasn't going to do layoffs, per se, just make it so difficult to do our jobs that threw up our arms and laid ourselves off...I said:
"Wow, we're so good at making things hard, we should be bottling this and selling it to old men."
She shoots, she scores, she gets reported to HR!
