The Alice in Wonderland Office Tale

I've always thought that you had to be on some pretty heavy drugs to watch Alice in Wonderland. Trippy colors with talking animals, mushrooms and smoking caterpillars are not for the faint of heart and actually rivals the Twilight Zone of a day I've just had. I hope I can only do my day justice by presenting the insane commentary that permeated my tiny ears and left me in a stupor wondering if what I had experienced was real or did I enter into some random 2010 Alice in Wonderland office tale.

The Cast of Characters

I am going to give co-workers code names to protect their identities (they know who they are and they love the names I've assigned).

• Sniggle Giggle - my partner in crime


• The Investigative Reporter - can find out the dirt on anyone


• The Hong Kong Bomb Bigfoot Tracker


• The Brain


• Batman

The Stage

A tiny vanilla colored cubicle with an extra chair for those extra special secret agent meetings. I like to call this chair, the therapist chair. I have now decided that I am going to place Lucy's 5 cent tin can next to this chair with a new rule. Anyone who sits in, touches or leans up against my newly named therapy chair must pay toward the 2030 Smith family vacation fund. If you have objections you must place them in writing. Noted! I also need to mention that I will be placing the Rob Schneider banner over the chair "YOU CAN DO IT" while the person in need wears a required fake mustache. (See photo of the day)

Yes ladies and gentleman, I literally went to this special place in my mind today. You would too if you had heard all of the random conversations that had my rib cage in pain from uncontrollable laughs throughout the day.

Quotes from the Characters or at Least the Randomness

• The Investigative Reporter was back to work today after yesterdays Non-Violent Crisis Training we've all been mandated to attend. IR reported that a well known co-worker who attended NCVI with her talks like a turkey reading a newspaper. IR then proceeds to gobble LOUDLY. Hence, uncontrollable tears that took 3 minutes too long to turn off while The Brain and Batman teamed up to question why there was a turkey in the office and a blond crying (sounds like the beginning of a bad joke).


• I think the gobble laid the foundation for Sniggle Giggle because I don't think she stopped laughing from the time I walked into work today until I stepped off property. Some of her laughter was even at my expense. I rarely blush but Sniggle Giggle, The Brain and Batman decided to push my buttons and mercilessly jabbed taunts that made me turn 15 shades of red. By the way, thanks for the reminder, these taunts solidified my Idaho Potato theory.


• We celebrated our quarterly birthday bash over lunch today as we all gobbled down sandwiches. Topic at the round table - MAYONNAISE. Have you ever had a 30 minute conversation dedicated to mayo? I have to say, it is one of the funniest conversations you will ever have. We learned that the Investigative Reporter was once served a bowl of beautifully ripe strawberries covered in white fluffy whipped cream. Wait, scratch that, it was not whip cream, it was MAYONNAISE. My lunch almost came up at the thought of it.


• Now to top all of the strange conversations I endured by mid day, I learned that the deacon that I work with was in Hong Kong on vacation once and was pulled over by the local police. The police told him that someone had reported that he had a bomb. The supposed bomb turned out to be a CO2 container for underwater diving. The description of the local population running from a 6 foot white man with a CO2 container in the middle of Hong Kong was priceless and capped off my day.

Today was just ODD, very ODD. I walked around with my eye brows arched and a look of shock permanently plastered and begged most people to not sit in my therapy chair today. I just didn't think I could take anymore of the Alice in Wonderland Office Tale. Carry on..........

California vs. Idaho

The Movie

You know those movies scenes where everyone is rushing around the character but the character is in slow motion. I think I experienced that tonight, or I had a brief mini melt down in the middle of my favorite store, Target.

I had an moment tonight, a tragic and evil realization that I am completely and totally un-hip.

The Couple

I watched this couple walking in front of me with their tan non-formal styles and hair that dared you to copy with pizazz and sun glasses pushed freely on top of their locks. The woman was wearing leather flops underneath tan legs wrapped in denim shorts that looked to be made just for her. A green tank with just enough style that you know she did not frequent Target for her duds and the most gorgeous brown hair, THE MOST GORGEOUS BROWN HAIR, I think I have ever seen. The man was sporting similar leather flops (but man style) cargo shorts and a t-shirt with a sun kissed tan wrapped up with a perfect smile and teeth that actually "pinged".

The Moment

I had that slow motion moment, I looked down at myself and my mom jeans, stained white t-shirt and the 20lbs acquired in the past year and realized I literally look like a Idaho farmers wife and not a California Gurl (as Katy Perry would say). I mean when I wave at you from across the room my triceps wave 5 times more just to make sure you saw the first wave and my hair is the same color as corn. Perhaps Idaho potatoes and I have a future. As I was trying to free my self from a possible major melt down in the big red store, the couple stopped in an aisle and the man turned my way and gave me the once over. Now, I kid you not, the sheer look of "dismissal and pity" on his face when he saw me was enough for anyone to dial the nearest lippo suction expert and mortgage their home to pay Dr. Slash to do his chop, chop, chop work. I stood there, in the middle of Target with everyone rushing around me, I was FROZEN.

The OMG Moment

"WHAT IN THE HELL HAS HAPPEN TO ME" I've turned into Mr. Idaho Potatoes wife. I am Mrs. Idaho Potato with mom jeans and orthopedic shoes. I AM ONLY 35.

Leggo my Potato Plan

I don't think I can endure another "pity ping look" from a California pretty boy with a goddess on his side so I have a plan. At least I plan on making a plan of action. Perhaps a farm in Idaho? Perhaps agoraphobia? Perhaps the realization that I am just not hip nor fit into skinny denim shorts made for tan legs and a leather flop style. I think the later is the safest conclusion so no one gets hurt. Mr. Idaho Potato, I'm your gal.

Tonight my humor is infused with jealousy and dismay, in all honesty I stood inside my favorite cheap American French store fully aware of self while everyone around me moved 5 times faster, more efficiently and with grace. I am thankful for my health and for my family's health and that is enough for me tonight. Long live the Idaho Potatoes!

Blood Hungry and in a Pickle

I have a new problem mid-life. I don't think I have ever been a fanatic over a celebrity or show until now. I thought those girls that pawed their brightly polished nails at singers, actors and local gym athletes were "interesting sorts" and needed therapy. So I now find myself in a pickle.

True Blood on HBO has become my addiction of choice, right up there with diet coke and coffee. I guess that means my addictions of choice are caffeine and the sitting on the edge of the couch, blood hungry, endorphin high True Blood.

I am completely torn. When Anne Rice was hot on the scene and we were lined up to watch Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt dialogue their perversions I sat in a comatose sense of mediocrity with drooling teenage girls by my side. I found the hair and costumes to be more intriguing then the vampires and wondered if something was wrong with me. Why wasn't I drooling, why didn't I lust after the dark bad boys of the night? I came to the conclusion that I was the freak of nature.

Some years have passed and we have seen Winona in Dracula and depressed Bella in Twilight but as far as I know we have never seen anything compare to True Blood. First, the characters are highly exaggerated so you know you are walking in a fiction world but the characters tug at every raw empathy aroused stricken nerve you own. Second, TB pushes the envelope of any religion and begs you take a naughty tantalizing journey in a world away from 40 hour work weeks, keyboards and monitors. My life now sees more action on a Sunday night then a weeks worth of Mondays. I am NOT complaining.

Sounds to me that it took me longer than most to jump on the vampire blood train. In this case, better late then never.

I look forward to the viking kings vengeance, Tara and Franklin's craziness, Sookie's uncontrollable crying and this love for Bill that I just don't buy into anymore. These twisted characters have become embedded in my vanilla world. The only thing I can say is "Thank you Alan Ball for giving my world some flavor and helping me cross the line into the vampire crazed America we've become". I finally feel apart of something, even if I'm sitting first row center with all the other "interesting sorts" waiting frantically for next Sunday night.

Face Pain and the Needle Job

I am going to dedicate this little blog entry to the friend I've known the longest - wait for it, wait for it, wait for it..................Amie!!

Amie and I go way back, so far back I can remember times when she would ask me if my face hurt and I would tell her no and of course her response would be "well, it's killing me". I can't tell if that response is based on the time we were walking on the blacktop at school, heads down watching our shoes and hearing Amie suddenly say "WATCH OUT" to find myself reacting to the shrill of her yell and my face and nose planted into a volleyball pole. Yes, my face hurt and I had the pain to prove it.

Years have gone by and we have story after story but I want to say how proud I am of Amie for doing something she has wanted to do for a long time. Phlebotomy school is the start of another chapter that will grow and create other chapters in her life. Now, you know this means, she is going to be asking for my vein of pain and you all know I am going to tell her HELL NO. Not because I don't trust her but because anyone coming at me with a needle is going to get a swift kick and punch. Just ask the last phlebotomist that came at me (I am not a violent person, all of the action happened in my head). But, I know many people I can volunteer to you MiMi.

Low and behold, if you really need me you know I would hand over my pasty white arm with blue rivers of liquid to you. I would do it if it meant helping you, just like when you yelled "WATCH OUT" so many years ago. Pain is apart of life, if it means planting your face into a pole or letting your friend place a needle to a vein, I will do it with a bruised ego and soar arm as long as it is with you.

YOU ROCK MY FRIEND!!! Best of luck to you and know that I am always here!

The White Pastey Tan Plan

When I was about 10 my grandma Teddy told me that I was going to have to watch my weight and everything I ate as I got older. I remember being offended at the consideration and thought some evil spirit had entered my grandmothers body and took over for a moment. This same sweet grandmother made the best homemade cookies, pies, chili, bread and would take me for the weekly drive over to Mt. Vernon Street to pick up 2 dozen fresh hand made tortillas wrapped in pink paper loosely tied with butcher twine. I can remember the pain of the searing round pile as I was told to hold it in my lap all the way back to grandma's home. The payoff was getting to spread butter on the hot disk of love and devourer it with 3 bites.

What do you mean I was going to have to watch my weight as I became an adult.

Dosen't every girl steal bags of marshmallows from the fridge when they are 9 then hide at night to eat the white sugar goo until finding her own personal level of guilt. Yes my weight sprang up, I ran for the cookie jar at grandma's house every chance I could get, and I learned that food soothed the soul at a record young age. Food guilt was born!

Grandma Teddy was right, I come from a line of women with meat on their bones and I guess if we were living in England 1569 I would be considered HOT. White and pastey skin meant you could afford NOT to work in the fields and weight on your ass meant you had enough money to eat. So it is safe to say that I am living in the wrong century and could have been HOT and rich long ago.

I need to wake up to 2010 and come to terms that weight is my battle, I am not as healthy as I should be and I need to overhaul my situation.

Problem: MOTIVATION, TIME, ENDURANCE, and most of all I AM TIRED OF THE PRESSURE.

So, I attempted to start living better yesterday and did well at work and then I got home and ate everything in site. I woke up this morning motivated to get back on track and again I did well at work and then I came home and didn't want to cook dinner so my husband went to Del Taco. Off the wagon I fell again. I don't want to spend and hour a day cooking and then doing dishes and then wondering what I can and cannot eat. It's a full time job on top of the full time job I already have AND I start school again in a few weeks.

Exercise too?

So how do all the skinny bitches do it?

Writing in the Light of a Life on the Verge

Another day another dollar short. Working in local government is like standing in line to lick the bottom of a humble pie pan and if you are under 40 you will be lucky to get a crumb after everyone before you has already taken a juicy lick.

For all of the complaining that I do and the frustration I've lived, I truly like what I do. I work for a wonderful man who has been an monster mentor and has opened my eyes to possibilities. I cannot thank him enough. But, I should do some scolding too because he has ruined my chances to work for anyone else and be happy at the same time AND it seems my work fate may soon be resting with a new overhead. Damn budget! Nothing like being reminded that you are a minion among tree climbers. Damn budget! Nothing like being reminded you have to justify what you do everyday. Damn budget! Nothing like being reminded your life hangs in the balance. A LIFE ON THE VERGE of the UNKNOWN.

The initial shock is hard, but, you soon realize you have little control (thanks to industrialism) and you become like Play Dough. You take new shape, you can take a beating, when you hit the floor you learn to get back up and morph into something that is totally NOT YOU and you smile and say "please do it again before I have any recollection of self". Please, Please, Please let me service the public while I am screamed at, my health insurance costs increase while I elect NOT to receive a pay raise as other union members pad their pockets and the universal moral surrounding me everyday hits an all time low.

I watch fellow co-workers worry about their future. I don't worry about my future as much as I worry that my happiness will be compromised. I've learned that once I've found contentment and happiness something always comes and takes it away. I've worked hard to be where I am and I've sacrificed parts of myself that I shouldn't have and I have little will to care anymore. Damn budget!

The lights are on and I'm waiting on the verge to see what will happen next.