Greek Fest!

Check out where I'm going this weekend.

We are approaching perfection

This is my favorite time of the year for so many reasons. First of all, I can't get enough of this weather! I feel like an old fogie saying that, but something about being outside with the clear skies and pleasant weather completely lifts my mood! This is such a change from the 100+ degree days and sweating through your clothes before you even make it to your car at 7:30 am. The fair is opening soon, which means my all time favorite game is quickly approaching. More on that subject later. Just wanted to show you that I can be positive every once in a while.

Attitude Adjustment

I realized today that I've had three blatantly negative posts recently regarding my job. So I have decided that instead of just focusing on the "con"s of my job, everyday I will try to find at least one positive thing or have one positive experience at work. I guess you could call it a Stuart Smalley exercise. You know, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and gosh darnit, people like me."


So I had a great 30 minute conversation today with a girl that sits across the aisle from me that because we are in different departments, we never really have any reason to talk. To avoid any kind of racial discomfort, I will lay it out on the line: she's black, I'm white. Our topic today: black person hair vs. white person hair. We had a very comfortable, frank, enlightening, and open discussion about wigs, braids, washing frequency, consistency, texture, cost, and time consumption. I learned so much that I either never knew about at all or always wanted to know but was too afraid to ask for fear of sounding like an ignorant honkie. By the end of our conversation, three additional coworkers had surrounded us to chime in - people that I don't even know their names, let alone would just go up to and start a random conversation like the one we were having. It was a touching moment. We could have been in a United Colours of Benetton commercial or on a billboard for the United Way or this. We are the world, we are the children, we are the ones who make a brighter day, so let's start livin' (or is it givin'?)...

See? That wasn't so bad.

You need a what to succeed here?

I had the joy of commiserating with three fellow female employees today at lunch about how jacked up (my mom loves that expression) our company is. I should correct myself, not our company, rather: the company we work for.

While the boys club is gone this week at a software "conference" (on software that they don't even use), which no doubt includes: continental breakfasts, slippers at the end of the bed and chocolate on their pillows nightly, on the golf course by 10am, and eight-course dinners nightly, all on the company's dime; we women are back here at the office buying our own damn office supplies since the company is too cheap to provide them for us. And we're not asking for much, a red pen here, a post it note there, and occasionally we need a big purchase, such as a wrist pad to help prevent carpal tunnel. God forbid they catch on after three people have had carpal tunnel surgery in the last five months. So instead of whining, I took matters into my own hands and bought the wrist pad myself. If I had to wait as long as I did for business cards, my wrists would be so beyond repair that we would have to do a straight amputation. As I sit here typing away while my expense report for the supplies sits in my boss's box, I wonder how long it will take him to question me on this out of the ordinary request. Maybe I should have coded it as golf tees in order for my invoice to get paid. Oh wait, women can't play golf.

What does the "k" in "401k" mean?

As I open my first 401k statement this morning, I am puzzled at why everyone says that I must do this. I must throw away 6% of every penny I make (well, after the government gets their petty cash fund from me)? Even though my only C in college came from this finance class , I still know enough to know that as many negative signs I see across this page can't be good. Is there someone gaining from my naiveté? For every action, isn't there an opposite reaction? Or does that only apply to physics? Someone help me before I am a 65 year old bum on the corner with a sign that reads "I promise I followed the rules and put money into a 401k for retirement, now please give me food."

Chariot of Fire

What a humbling experience I had yesterday. So a couple weeks ago I decided that in order to counteract my 9 motionless, calorie-burning-less, cellulite-inducing hours spent 5 days a week, that I was going to begin training for a half marathon. This is week 2 in my 15 week training and I thought that in conjunction with my increased patriotism and sudden athleticism, I would partake in a 5K. I won't blame my poor results on the swamp-like air I had to breathe or the fact that I hadn't eaten since 11am, because you know, I'm a 22 year old non-smoking, non-cerebral palsied, non-quadriplegic, non-diabetic, non-diseased, fairly healthy girl. Heck, I used to be on the cross country team. There is no excuse for this performance... I'm jogging along at the beginning watching truly better runners pass me, then young whipper snappers who are running off a sugar buzz, but by the time I see 70 year old women and handicapped people pass me without a sign of strain or lack of air on their face, while my vision is ranging from seeing spots to completely losing my peripheral vision, I think that maybe I'm not cut out for this sport. When I finally crossed the finish line, in what seemed to be the longest race of my life, the announcer was announcing his congratulations to the people with strollers and wheelchairs while I desperately searched for the water stand. Random strangers/fellow racers were offering me their water bottles as soon as they caught a glance at my beet-red face. You know what made it all worthwhile though? The beer and mexican food afterwards. See ya at the next finish line.

Words are difficult

Does anyone know what to say? As I go through the motions of an ordinary workday, I try to focus on different tasks on hand: putting on makeup, driving to work, getting my coffee. My thoughts are flooded with images, memories, stories, feelings of what happened a year ago and since. Some people cope by talking, naturally retelling the "Where were you?" stories, reliving the emotions and fears that flooded their heads. Not that my story is anything phenomenal or profound, but I think that's where I will have to start.

I was getting ready for work listening to the radio when news first broke of a plane flying into one of the tallest buildings in the country. I chuckled and said outloud, "What an idiot". I carried on, driving to work when I heard about the second plane. That's when the confusion started in my mind. At "work" which was a family friend's business run out of their home, I walked in to find my employers glued to the TV in the living room. Seeing the images for the first time were surreal. As we sat there watching the string of events unfold, my thoughts turned to my family, my friends, my friends' families, my family's friends. I called everyone I could think of: my dad who was on a business trip in Houston, my sister who was two weeks into her freshman year in college, my friends who just moved to work in downtown Chicago, emailed a sorority sister who had just moved to Manhattan, etc, etc. Luckily everyone was okay (at least physically).

If anything good came out of the events of that day 365 days ago, it was how connected we all became. As cheesy as this sounds, I hope these connections never fade.

My Date with Dave

Disclaimer: Since I feel completely brain-dead and unfunny, I have decided to share with you one of my 2002 highlights year-to-date. Some of you have already heard this story, but maybe re-living it will be just as thrilling.



Yesterday started as a normal day…snoozed for an hour, slapped together a lunch, ate breakfast in the car, snagged my hose within the first hour of work, surfed the internet until I dreamt up something to do, moped about not having tickets for the Dave Matthews concert last night, mindlessly checking the websites that had become a daily ritual for the past two weeks: first eBay, then some ticket brokers realizing that unless I wanted to pay double or even triple the face value for third deck back corner tickets, I will miss Dave for the first time ever. I then decided to check Ticketmaster on the off-chance that they released tickets the day of. I typed in my search for two tickets in the best available section. I was too shocked that they had two tickets together to notice that they were actually decent seats. First deck, behind the stage. Well hell, if they have these all the sudden there have got to be some where I wouldn’t face Dave’s rear all night (as wonderful as that would be). So I say no thanks to those seats and do another search, same criteria. Even better, but not quite satisfiable yet. And you know what they say: third time’s a charm, so I press my luck one more time. Do my eyes deceive me? Could this really be true? I call the b.f. over to my cube to verify what is on the screen before me. First deck, third row, side stage, face value (which is the same for every ticket in the arena). It doesn’t get any better than this (unless I was in the “wife seating” as Mrs. Matthews), so I grab for my credit card and complete this glorious transaction. And that was just the beginning…



The b.f. and I make the trek on foot to the American Airlines Center (approx. 1 mile from his apt). As we near we pass by groups of high school kids “prepartying” in their parents’ borrowed minivans holding cigarettes so awkwardly that you can’t help but chuckle, parents nervously dropping off their kids in the front as if it’s their first dance, then old fogies like us who have loved Dave from the beginning. Grab out tickets from will call but not without some whiney kids begging to get another ticket because they forgot theirs. Before I even go in, I realize this is going to be unlike any other Dave concert I’ve ever been to. Not because of my awesome seats, not because I was suddenly in the upper part of the Age Bell Curve, but because we were in an arena, with NO SMOKING!! Yippee. My heart begins to race.



Head to our seats. Jaw drops in amazement of how close we will soon be to my favorite band of all time. And we paid the same price (if not less) as those suckers in the upper ceiling seats miles away from the stage. The opening band had finished so we just sat in awe of how incredibly lucky we were. I had to pee but didn’t want to leave these sweet precious seats. But we asked the usher and he said we had plenty of time.



We got back to our seats after bypassing the incredibly long beer lines with jittery teenagers using fake IDs. I’m looking around noticing that we are actually closer to the stage than those on the front row. Just to paint a picture, we are three rows from the stage, same level as the stage (soon to be eye level with Dave and the boys) with a shot similar to a close up one you’d see on his website. Technically we were the first row in that section since they didn’t seat anyone in the first two rows because they’d be below the stage level and may have trouble seeing (though some snuck down there).



Then Dave and the gang came out about 40 feet in front of me. My first thought was that he was shorter and thicker than I thought. But just as cute. The b.f. said I looked like I was about to cry, I was so excited. They opened with one of my least favorite songs “Too Much” but I didn’t care. Heck, he could’ve sung my Top 10 least favorites and I still would have been smitten. In fact the first three weren’t the best, but they sounded so good and just to be up there with them and watch them in action was amazing. Especially compared to my weak lawn seats in the past where he was just a dot millions of miles away. But then he started building momentum with a new song that will be on the CD that comes out in July, then The Space Between, and Grey Street, then another new one. They really got the crowd into it with Crush, which is a song I have a new-found appreciation for. Towards the end, played my favorite of the night – Two Step - with a 20 minute jam session in the middle. Ended with everyone singing every word of Ants Marching. Encored with solo acoustic Everyday and then everyone came out for Tripping Billies. During that song, Dave came over to our side of the stage so at this point he was 20 feet away and I swear he looked at me and smiled! Hee hee… It was so cool to watch him do his trademark dance moves.



It was by far the best Dave concert I’ve ever been to regardless of the set list, mainly because of my proximity to the band and very little distractions. Though the distractions we had were hilarious. One girl kept trying to seduce the security guards on the floor into letting her get closer. The b.f. commented that the scantily dressed hoochie teenager had seen Almost Famous one too many times. Then there are the idiots who keep getting tossed back to their seats. One girl threw her bra onto the stage and Dave just kicked it back as if he didn’t want to touch that disgusting thing.



I was sad when it was over as I hobbled back home replaying this perfect night over and over again, developing a massive blister on the bottom of my foot from my Reefs (I thought they were supposed to be comfortable) in the meantime…and realized that I’d probably never be that close to Dave ever again…until we walk down the aisle of course.

Is this really what I do?

For the last 22 years, I have been preparing myself for my adult life. In high school, you spend at least three out of your four years preparing for college by taking the PSAT, then the SAT, AP tests and finals, attending college fairs, going on trips around the country to different universities, writing those painful essays, next checking the mail obsessively for responses, then soul searching for where your destiny lies for the next four (or five) years. Oh and along the way, you are supposed to check a box to indicate what you want to do with the rest of your life. While in college, countless hours are spent (some sober) pondering exactly what your major should be knowing that this decision labels you for the rest of your life. Some pick something they really enjoy regardless of practicality. Some choose to follow dollar signs and stability. And some, like me, choose something in between. Though I knew my major wasn't going to land me my dream job since I don't know what that is yet, I thought, "at least I'll get my foot in the door of the working world, then I'll be able to 'figure out what I want to do when I grow up' while supporting myself for the first time". When the economy conveniently plunged as I walked across the stage with great confidence hearing the words of so many float through my head: "What a great time to graduate!", "You can have any job you want!", "The world is yours!"; I thought I had it all figured out. Flash to a year and four months later: I'm sitting on my ass all day, looking forward to going to the restroom so I can move around, brain cells getting weaker everyday, thirsting for activity, contracting OCD (obsessive/compulsive disorder) by checking the clock every 4 seconds, considering stealing an electric stapler off of the newly fired lady's desk around the corner my best achievement for the month. Is this really what I've been waiting 22 years for?

My homeboys

Just wanted to show you a picture of my boyfriend and his posse. Check out the pimp rides. If any of you single ladies are interested, give me a holla. Peace, love, don't hate.

Shout out to Erin!

I just want to give a holla to my sista Erin. Okay, well she's not my sister by blood, but she is my sista. Happy Birthday! Finally we are at an age when nobody wants to get older and I can finally be glad that I'm two years younger (for the next two months) than my friend who got her drivers license when I was 14, could vote for in the presidential election in 1996, and threw away her fake ID when I was a foolish 19 year old dodging every TABC officer in the state of Texas, well, except for that one undercover son of a gun. This is my time! From here on the milestones are no fun and I will be 28 when she turns 30, and I will be a young, vibrant 98 when she is 100. My parents always told me I would be happy one day when my friends were getting crows feet and varicose veins and mine were a year delayed. Maybe next year Erin will rent a car and flaunt her excess money that used to be budgeted for the 18-24 year old woman car insurance bracket, just for one last hoorah! Cheers to patiently waiting!