Overheard At The Office

Seriously.

"Wow, that Barrow Quarterly is just great. How many times a year does your office publish those?"

...

I wonder if he knows Bea's Best Buy genius...

Pineapple! Pineapple!

Go here. You will laugh.

Turns out I'm terrible at guessing people's ages. Not even just kind of bad. Like really really horrible. Two examples. A woman I met several months ago who I guessed was 28 is actually 42. A woman I met a couple months ago who I guessed was 23 or 24 is actually 34. How is it that I'm so bad at this? I guess once you hit the 20-somethings, that age line starts to blur. When you're 12 it's perfectly clear that a 16 year old is a few years older than you. But the difference between a 22 and a 26 year old - not so clear.

Putting A Good Spin On A Traffic Jam

I wasn't comparing the brake lights to the glow of the light of a thousand fairies, mind you. But more on that later.

First:
Because Bree and Bea did it.

IF YOUR LIFE WAS A MOVIE WHAT WOULD THE SOUNDTRACK BE?

Random iTunes shuffle: one "life question" = one song
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Opening Credits: Ride - Cary Brothers

Waking Up: At This Point In My Life - Tracy Chapman

First Day At School: That Man Jumped Out The Window - Cloud Cult (was he my teacher?)

Falling In Love: One Of These Days - FFH (hahaha!)

First Kiss: Sweetest Goodbye - Maroon 5 (that's sad)

Fight Song: New Slang - The Shins (my fights are laid BACK, y'all)

Breaking Up: Million Things - Cloud Cult

Prom: Blessed To Be A Witness - Ben Harper

Life: Misdirected Hostility - 311

Mental Breakdown: A Mess To Be Made - The Format (nyaha!)

Driving: Take A Bow - Muse

Flashback: Desire - U2

Getting Back Together: Rapunzel - DMB

Wedding: Island In The Sun - Weezer (AWEsome)

Birth of Child: Rock The House - Gorillaz (HAHAHAHAHA!)

Final Battle: With My Two Hands - Ben Harper (clearly I am a fist fighter)

Death Scene: Meant to Live - Switchfoot (word.)

Funeral Song: Hallelujah - Rufus Wainwright (RIGHT. ON.)

End Credits: The Blower's Daughter - Damien Rice
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ok, that was pretty much awesome.

Anyway, traffic jam. So the church I've been going to is all the way down in Tempe. That's not a problem on Sundays because the freeways are pretty wide-open and it only takes 15 minutes or so to get there. But, I've been singing with their praise team and we practice on a random weekday evening at 6:00. Which means I have to drive all the way down there in rush hour traffic. Which means the fifteen minute drive takes me an HOUR.

But, I realized that traffic jams are a great way to check out different kinds of cars. I'm hoping to dump the hoopty at some point during the next year or so, so I've had my eye out for cars I like (so far I'm fond of the Toyota Matrix and the VW Jetta). But today I got to check out HUNDREDS of cars from the comfort of my own driver's seat. Granted I saw the same blue Mustang, white Alero, and green Murano a majority of the time, but still, more cars than I would see on my normal 3-minute drive home.

PS #1 - My sister will be here two weeks from TODAY. Woot!
PS #2 - I was perusing my old blog from this time last year and noticed that this particular page of posts was pretty good stuff if you're looking for something random to read.

From Steers To Stares:

A Day in the Life of Kristen.

Today was eventful, you guys. I got up early this morning, met up with some friends, and we headed East of here to the Boyce Thompson Arboretum to do some hiking. We'd been tooling down Route 60 for about a half an hour when, out of the blue, middle of the desert, traffic comes to a complete stop. For as far as we can see in front of us, cars are stopped dead. With ravine-like ditches on either side of the road, it wasn't like we could flip a u-ie and head back to Phoenix. So we sat there. Cheryl got fed up at one point and climbed on top of the car to see if she could spot the trouble. Suddenly, people who had been wandering around were scrambling for their cars. We all hopped back in and got ready to go when, inexplicably, a steer, horns and all, comes racing down the side of the road. Shortly after that, traffic began moving again. What the crap. We never did find out how in the world the animal stopped traffic dead for 20 minutes...

On to the Arboretum. We spent the morning and early afternoon exploring this place. It's such a cool place - it's full of desert plants from around the world.
(anyone else think that rock formation on the bottom (heh heh...)looks a bit like an arse? No? Just me?)

They also had a greenhouse full of rare and endangered succulents and cacti from all over the place. There are some crazy looking cacti out there, you guys. We wandered around for three or four hours and then headed into the town of Superior for lunch. I love those old, small, out of the way kind of towns that are still somewhat up and running. We ate lunch at the local cafe and tried to visit the World's Smallest Museum, which was closed. And has a roof made out of empty beer cans. Seriously. Then we drove back towards the Arboretum and toured the Pickett Post House - it was built on the rock cliffs above the arboretum by Boyce Thompson himself. Pretty amazing place - 32 rooms! After that we hightailed it back to Phoenix because one of our friends had invited us to a Comedy Night at a church up in Scottsdale that night.

By the time we got back to Phoenix, we were all pretty exhausted. I contemplated not going, but decided I should honor the commitment I'd made so I picked up Cheryl and we headed up to Scottsdale. We found a parking spot, walked in...and something just felt a little "off" to me. I look around and everyone looks a little...old... YEAH. Turns out it was a 30's and 40's Aged Singles event. Oh yeah. Someone forgot to mention that during the invite. Holy crap. Talk about awkward and out of place. Oh I got some looks. I mean, let's face it, I might as well have been walking around with "20-something seeks Sugar Daddy" stamped on my forehead. Sheesh.

My friends from the church I used to go to tend to forget the age difference between us. So while they, the appropriately-aged 35-40ish women that they are, had a great time chatting it up with the gentlemen at our table, I had to keep myself from responding with "Yes, sir" when the 50ish guy sitting next to me asked if I was having a good time.

I mean, SERIOUSLY.

911? Yes, I'd Like To Report A Massacre.

Oh the carnage. Oh the humanity.

I was leaving my apartment to go to work this morning and noticed an abundance of styrofoam packing peanuts morosely blowing about the halls. As I turned to lock my door, a horrific scene caught my eye. There, sitting in front of my neighbor's door, was a veritable Valentine's bloodbath. What I can only assume was once a ticky-tacky, candy and stuffed animal-filled, cellophane-wrapped Valentine's basket had been reduced to mutilated mayhem. A stuffed toy doggy lay limply, its cold, dead, plastic eyes staring blankly at the sunny day just outside the window. Cellophane waved weakly in the gentle breeze blowing through the hall. And around it all blew the packing peanuts...tiny victims of a senseless act.

But really, I'm curious. Did someone leave the basket outside this neighbor's door hoping to give them a lovely little post-V-day surprise and it fell victim to an angry, hungry passerby? Or did said neighbor find the gift on his/her doorstep, for whatever reason fall prey to a fit of passionate rage, and tear the gift to bits (carefully keeping the candy for himself/herself)? What is your theory?

My car's odometer rolled over to 132,000 miles on my way home today. Let's hear it for the hoopty. Woot.

A Nebraska Valentine

by Natalie Dee.

Corn is for Lovers

Happy Valentine's Day.
I love you guys.
And corn.

Yankee Woman Powers: Activate!

Form of: Mechanic!

I changed my own headlight bulbs after work today. I washed my hands and I still have grime in my knuckle creases and a scrape on my forearm. Question: How do those big man-handed, Popeye-forearmed mechanics do anything under that hood? I have rather long, relatively slender hands and there was not an inch to spare. Either way, the endeavor went well. When everything was screwed back shut, plugged in, and closed up, I hopped into my car and did the head slightly turned, one-eye squinted semi-cringe and chanted "pleaseworkpleaseworkpleasework" as I turned the headlight knob. TaDaaa! Two low beams reflected on the wall in front of me. A flick of the lever and TaDaaa! Two high beams lit up the parking garage.

I am independent woman. Hear me roar.

Also, I was at the bank yesterday setting up a savings account. This is the first one I've had since I was about 14. I'm pretty excited to start saving and whatnot. Anyway, the woman who helped me set up the account was from probably Russia or someplace - had a very thick accent. About halfway through getting my account up and running, she gave me the stare down and said "you're not from here, are you?" I said, "well, no..." She continued, "where are you from?" I said, "well, I mostly grew up in Nebraska." She basically shouted, "I KNEW IT! I knew it. I knew you were from Nebraska." I started wracking my brain trying to figure out what personality quirk or wardrobe choice or non-accented word had given away my Midwest affiliation. After her self-congratulatory laughter had subsided, she explained, "I just knew you were from Nebraska. Everyone I've met from Nebraska is just so nice." Awww. Well thanks. :-)

We All Have Our Vices.

Mine happens to be shoes.

I love shoes. I have lots of them. I do not, however, like wearing shoes in my house. Not in some effort to keep the cheap apartment carpet clean or anything like that. I would just rather go barefoot in my own home. So as soon as I step in the door, I kick off my shoes.

A friend of mine dropped by after work the other day to get a recipe from me (Turkey Veggie Chili - mmmm). Since it was a last minute decision for her to stop by, I didn't have a chance to tidy up the place - so as I opened the door, she was treated to the sight of my pile of shoes in the entryway.

She kind of stood there in awe and said "it's like they're your pets and they came to greet you as you got home."

I took this picture like six minutes ago from the chair I am seated in right now.

1. Everyday low black heels.
2. Awesome muted-lime green sneakers from Amsterdam two years ago.
3. Mint green and white polka dotted kitten heels that my sis bought me in London.
4. Pointy pointy tan heels from Amsterdam last year. (Holland has good shoes, yo.)
5. Sneaker/dressy shoe hybrid.
6. Prissy pink heels with a jaunty buckle.
7. Sensible, comfortable black everyday shoes.
8. Sneaker/Maryjane hybrid.
9. Sensible, boring brown shoes.
10. Running shoes. You know, for exercising and whatnot.

Scared yet? o_O

The women's restroom down the hall from my office smells like Smarties candies.

It Was A Wallflowers Kind Of Evening

You know, 'cause I drove home with one headlight.

I need to get that fixed.

What Powers, You Ask?

How about the power of flight? That do anything for you? That's levitation, holmes. How about the power to kill a yak from 200 yards away - with MIND BULLETS. That's telekinesis, Kyle. How about the power....to move you.

This song came up on the random shuffle mode on my little green iPod today. Good ol' "Wonderboy." It was immediately followed by "This World" by Caedmon's Call. Eclectic, no?

A couple days ago, I got an e-mail from one of the research docs asking if the main image for his section of the new website was finished, so I sent him the final version. Today as I was checking my work e-mail, I saw a new message from this particular doc flagged as "urgent" and bearing the subject line 'This is not good --.'

After I had retrieved my stomach from somewhere around my left ankle, I double-clicked on the message to find out what terrible mistake I had made on the illustration. The e-mail opened and I read these fateful words:

"-- this is excellent! Thank you very much, Kristen!"

Oh my holy dang. Freaking doctors with a sense of humor. He aged me at least a couple of months, I'm pretty sure.

And here is my latest portrait.

k.o.