Job Requirements

(Uh oh. Look at me getting political again!)

It must be a job requirement that if you are a politician, you need to lie. You need to deceive your public. You need to have scandals. You need to cover up. The thing is, do we care any more? Or have we had our fill entirely and have become indifferent? Are there varying thresholds of lying and deception that we deem acceptable?

There is chatter on some blogs that I took a look at today, indicating that the latest scandal is right around the corner. I’m not going to specifically mention what it is because I don’t want to gossip and spread rumors. With this issue, I’ll be curious to see if we defend what has taken place and proclaim the subject of the scandal a noble person or if we will scorn the person for decisions that were made. It’s all in how you spin it afterall. This could get interesting.

Uhhh. I Don’t Know…

I’m the last one to get political on a blog. Goodness knows that I don’t know anything about anything. I do know that I lean more towards the Democrats than the Republicans. Though I am more interested in Barack Obama and would have loved an Obama-Hilary Clinton ticket, I wouldn’t have been too upset of John McCain became the next President until today.

I don’t know about this John McCain running mate thing. I’m all for girl power and whatnot, but come on. Sarah Palin is 44 and a mother of 5. Her youngest was born in April of this year. I’m not saying that she doesn’t have experience and she isn’t a perfectly lovely, likeable woman. I’m not sure why, but this kind of freaks me out. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.

Maybe this statement from the Obama camp says it all: “Today, John McCain put the former mayor of a town of 9,000 with zero foreign policy experience a heartbeat away from the presidency.”

Where’s Ferraro?

Back to Normal

Now that life has returned to normal, I’m tired. I’m certainly not sleep deprived, but my body is exhausted. While I feel for people who have to stand for 8 hours when they work, I doubt that their workday includes trying to keep 3 groups of 25 people each engaged in what you are presenting for well over an hour. Now THAT takes energy.

Last night, I couldn’t believe it but I feel asleep on the couch at 9:30pm! That from the girl who usually stays up until midnight or later. I eventually woke up at 11:00 and headed to bed after my “nap.” Yes, I am one of those people. I can take a nap, even in the later evening, and still fall asleep at bedtime.

When I woke up this morning at 8:30, sans alarm, I was totally disoriented. For one thing, the hubby was still in the bed when I woke up. And then I thought it was Saturday. It wasn’t. It’s Friday. Thankfully, in this state of “back to normal” I don’t have to go in to work every Friday.

This stuff reminds me of when I was a kid. I woke up one day thinking I had to go to school. I dressed and went to have some breakfast when I was greeted by everyone else–still in pajamas.

The Comfy Chair

The Comfy Chair on its day of purchase

Oh… it feels good to sit down and relax. I’m in my office hanging around until the traffic has subsided, and I’m enjoying the best purchase for my office, my lovely chair and a half, aka a snuggler.

The Comfy Chair was purchased as a reward to myself for surviving the first few months of a major career change. I found it at a furniture warehouse after I had been in search of a non-family-room-looking recliner. Yeah, can you believe I actually thought I would be able to rest in my office? I came home with this after I discovered that said recliners were pricey!

When people first saw it, they thought that work bought it for me. “Wow! Nice chair,” they would say. “How did you get that?” they would ask while using that tone. The one of “Why do you have this and I don’t? I didn’t get a chair like this in my office?” I would reply with, “I bought it and my husband and I carried it in.”

Anyway, I highly recommend such a purchase to anyone who has a need for seating in their office and has the space. You can actually lay on it like a real couch. Despite my height, my body fits quite well. My head is on an arm rest, my body is in the seat area, and my legs are draped over the other arm rest. I’m comfy. Good job, chair!

Also, though the moments I get to sit in it tend to be few and far between, it’s great for guests, especially those that may be there to visit you for a not-so-good reason. It’s a mediator. It eases tension and it makes you comfortable to be there.

My office neighbor now has a small couch in his office that he got from surplus. Further down the hall, there is a Pappasan chair. On the other hall, someone else has small couch from her apartment. And one of the new folks also has a Pappasan. Hmmm. I think I’ve started a trend.

In Search of Shoes

I need some good shoes. I need them to be comfy, fashionable, professional, and not intended for a grandmother or a 16-year-old. Do such shoes exist within a reasonable price range?

I have been on Zappos for a while looking, but I’m not entirely satisfied with what I’ve found.

To do my job I am typically standing on my feet for about 4 hours straight with only a little bit of walking. I’ve worn Clarks in the past but they have stopped making the ones that had me standing comfortably for a year. I don’t mind wearing heels as long as I have some cushion. The balls of my feet are what ache the most after a long day. I don’t want clogs or mules anymore.

Suggestions anyone?

My Dream Job

I think I’ve figured out my dream job–not that I want to leave my current job, but if the planets were aligned and I had the opportunity to do it, I would take it! It combines my love of music with my love of photography. I want to be a photographer that specializes in concerts, performances, and musicians. Of late, more and more musicians have allowed cameras at their shows and I’ve taken advantage of that. I’ve tried not to spend too much of my time taking pictures at shows, but I do like to have at least one good photo that represents the experience.

Below is a sample of my work. You can click on the thumbnails to see the larger image. Other than my water mark, compression, and sizing, the photos have not been altered. And trust me, these are not “lucky” shots that I happened to get. What do you think?… and how do I get a job like this?

David Archuleta at the piano.

David Cook, the American Idol.

Fandamonium. Yes!

John Mayer’s Guitar

Robbie McIntosh, Columbia, MD.

Alanis Morisette

Grrrrr. Anger Management.

I’m a pretty easy-going person, and very few things bother me. But I do have some pet peeves and they have to do with the actions of others.

I really, really hate it when people are shopping, decide they don’t want something, and just leave it wherever they happen to be standing at the time. I have a friend who does this and I scold her like a little girl when she pulls this crap. As a former retail worker bee, I never understood why people would do this. It made our jobs of keeping the store looking presentable incredibly difficult when a bra was randomly placed atop some men’s polo shirts. How hard is it to just take it to the register or the fitting room and say you don’t want it? We don’t expect you to remember exactly where you got it from, but don’t make it 100 times worse by putting it where it definitely doesn’t belong. You wouldn’t put a pair of shoes in the freezer, would you?

It annoys me when people litter. So much so that I want to kick people who do this in the shins. I don’t want to see your trash. Pick it up! If your feeble attempts at trash can basketball are unsuccessful, you are responsible for picking up your “ball.” How hard is that? You made the mess. You should clean it. This applies to you, too, smokers. Don’t drop your cigarettes on the ground. It’s bad enough that you puff smoke into the air but when you opt to drop your habit on the ground, I want to smack you in the face. Especially, ESPECIALLY when you decide not to extinguish your butt. Lazy and irresponsible, I say.

Today one of my biggest pet peeves happened. Stopped in traffic, I left a space between myself and the car in front of me because we were at a break in the median and there was an entrance to a shopping area. I did this because, well, you’re supposed to. I mean, I want to be courteous to people who want to get into the shopping area and that includes emergency vehicles. This car approached the exit to the shopping area, stopped at the sign, and then proceeded to pull into the gap I left, blocking the intersection. Thanks, you big dumb*ss.

Spinning Some Tunes

Tiffany gets a spin on the record player.

Put the needle on the record!

It’s here. It’s here! My lovely Emerson Big-Little Portable Phono obtained from Mom and Dad’s is in the house along with a few 45’s.

Oh, nostalgia.

The first thing I did was play Name that Tune with the hubby. Song number 1 was All Night Long by Lionel Richie. He couldn’t identify it easily and when he figured out what it was, you know what he said? “That sounds like crap.” My response? “It’s not a CD. It’s a 45 on a kid’s record player that’s probably 25 years old!” Silly husband.

I spun a few more tunes, including the obscure Anne Murray’s You Needed Me and the delightful I Think We’re Alone Now by the queen of mall tours, Tiffany.

Next up on the playlist is my recently purchased John Mayer Continuum LP. A vinyl 33 and the main reason for getting my hands back on my little phono. I can’t wait!

I’m taking requests. What would you like to hear?

Flashback: Come and Get Your Love

I exist within the walls of a sitcom sometimes, except that issues are not resolved in 30 minutes. There are funny moments. We all have a good laugh. And there are a memorable cast of characters. Every now and again, there is a special guest star that adds some excitement to the show.

Here is a nomination for best guest star:

I lived alone right out of school in this quaint little 1-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t a traditional apartment building that you can find in every city. It was shaped kind of like a really huge house. It had three separate entrances, one for each set of apartments. No two apartments were the same. The entrances were locked and lead to nice, carpeted stairways.

You're Abe Froman? The Sausage King of Chicago?

Every so often, I would see my downstairs neighbor. He seemed nice enough, I guess, though he reminded me of the maitre d’ in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. He had sweptback, blondish hair and sported a disturbingly thin mustache. His appearance kind of bugged me, and I thought there was something kind of weird about him, but I tried not to judge.

One day I was sitting at home and I heard a little bit of music thunk coming from downstairs. Thunk, thunk, thunk. The bass was evident, but I didn’t really care because, hey, it’s not like I am trying to sleep. It wasn’t unbearably loud. Then I heard the the singer, only not. It’s not the singer…. It’s a singer…. It’s a very bad “singer.” It’s a very bad singer wailing to Come and Get Your Love by Real McCoy.

What?

Is this for real? This has to be a joke. Is he actually trying to rap?! I listened to him in the same way you would stare at a car accident. I couldn’t help it. I had to. And quite frankly, I wanted a good story to tell all of my friends, so I didn’t stop him. And this turned out to be a mistake. A huge mistake. Apparently my weird, thinly-mustache neighbor liked to bring down the house on a regular basis. Every few days, he wailed like a dying cat to the same song! On top of that, every few nights, Karaoke Man liked to sing until 2am. I swear he must have thought my stomping on the floor added to the bass coming from his speakers.

He had special performances, too. Oh, yes, friends. One night I was treated to You are Not Alone by Michael Jackson. Then there was Mariah Carey night. Woo. What a horrific display that was.

The biggest performance of all was the Star Spangled Banner on Independence Day. He sang that one like Whitney Houston at the Super Bowl, except not since he was out of tune and forgot some of the words, though it is quite possible that he was wearing a white track suit and a headband.

00.01 Yowza!

How apropos that I bought this poster today. (From swimwiththestars.com)

Wow! Michael Phelps just finished the 100m Butterfly. What an incredible race! He didn’t look like he had a chance and then, some how, some way, he turned it up! I couldn’t help but scream my head off at the end. He won the gold by a hundreth of a second! Potato Math friends, that’s 00.01. Holy cow, holy cow! I loved his reaction and his mother’s reaction, too. I just want to give her a big hug.

Here’s a link to the video.