Every once in awhile I peruse a website that caters to single LDS people. You know, on the off chance that since I'm unlisted and Prince Charming can't ride up to my house on his white horse because he can't find my address so I need to find him. On the world wide interwebs. Where true love... Okay, so I'm not really very hopeful. But I can do it in my sweats while I'm watching TV, and you can't say that about going to a Friday night dance.
I'm picky. I can afford to be. I've waited this long to find The One, I'm not exactly desperate. Here are some thoughts I've had tonight while being anxiously engaged but not engaged.
* Oooh, nice user name, clever and creative, shows a spark of creativity. Ack! I can't see anything else because of the glare of that shiny pate! [click]
* Anyone who adds "-ster" to the end of their name definitely does NOT deserve a click. Next!
* Oh, that's nice -- a cool Hinckley quote as part of your introduction. Nice. Oh, dear. What's happened to your neck? I think your shirt swallowed it. [next]
* You live in Salty Lake, huh? I don't think I want to swim all the time just to get to know you. Next.
* Why did you call yourself San Francisco when you live in North Carolina?
* Oooh, I love that photo from 1987! What do you look like NOW?
* Oh, do you only have one arm? I can only see one in all your photos. Oops, never mind. You're the guy who takes pictures of himself with his camera phone in the mirror and tries to post those. I'm sorry, but if you don't have a friend to take a picture of you, you probably won't succeed on a date.
* Is that a graduation gown or judge's robe?
* If you're 44 then I'm 28.
* Fabio? Is that you?
* Hey! It's Newman, the mailman from Seinfeld! I didn't expect to see you here!
* Hmmm the only photo you have is the one of you and your ex on your wedding day? Thank you for being considerate enough to at least crop her out before posting it.
And just for the record, "cruise casual" wear should only be worn by men of a certain age. Take note, guys. If you are under 60, no one thinks that's a good look. That floral print just isn't doing it for me.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
What I Don't Do
One day a couple of years ago, two of my sisters were visiting me for my birthday. It was close to the holidays and I knew that work would be slow and that I could get away with working a half day, as long as I put in an appearance in the morning and did some time-sensitive things. I also wanted to show our new, state-of-the art facility off to my family. Since I work for a fairly well-known and popular company, I thought that was something my sisters would enjoy. Then we'd be able to enjoy the rest of the day together.
As I sat at my workstation doing...stuff, my sisters kept themselves entertained by reading some magazines and books they had brought with them and asking me an occasional question about what I was doing.
I completed my requisite activities, wrapped up my day, turned off my computer and we left. On the way out to the car, my one sister said, "Well, that was nice, but I still don't know what you do."
The problem is, somedays I don't either.
Well, I do know, but unless you work in my industry and speak the foreign language I speak (hint, not Spanish), it's not fun to try and explain to a layman. That makes one of my least favorite questions, "What do you do?"
Instead of trying to explain what I do, it's easier to tell you what I don't:
* Fix your computer
* Fix my computer (I have a technophile friend to do that for me, and it's not even her industry)
* Wear a big furry costume and take pictures with your kid. Or anyone else's. (Except for that one time, but that's another story).
* Write code. No, I don't work for the CIA. That's computer talk. If you don't know what that means, you're the person I couldn't even begin to explain what I do for a living.
* Get you into any amusement parks for free or discounted.
Sometimes I try to put people off by answering with my title, but it's a meaningless title with my department and "Senior Analyst" in it. It really only exists for HR purposes. So then I try to make it generic, "I'm an IT analyst." The problem with that answer is that about half the people I talk to know what IT stands for and the other half don't. The half that do think that means I'm going to be their beck and call computer gal and fix their computer for them.
The half that don't know what that means get yet another answer -- "I do computer stuff," after which point THEY think that I'm going to be their go-to computer gal.
If I sense that someone will have no concept of IT or computers or are otherwise apathetic, I placate by providing the name of the company I work for. I usually try to avoid this answer because this then conjures the image of me putting on a big furry costume to take my picture with your kid.
Worse still is when someone assumes that means I like them enough to get them and their extended family of 82 into an amusement park at a discounted rate or free. Nope, definitely not that. I don't even get that good of a discount.
Things I do (do):
* Write requirements specifications and other technical documents
* Analyze systems and business processes and make recommendations for improvements
* Manage projects
* Liaison between Enterprise IT and my division service managers to coordinate things like patch releases, upgrades, fixes and other changes that impact clusters, servers or applications
* Create ICOM, swim lane, business flow and process flow diagrams
* Create and maintain technical policies and request forms
* Work with end users to understand and document their processes so that those can be understood by more technical people and then developed into an application to then be used by a business person.
* Manage the contractor (SOW) request and creation process for hiring managers
* Create disaster recovery documents
* Excel...stuff
...And that's why I give you the answer I do when you ask me that dreaded question, "So, what do you do?" Isn't it more fun to envision me in that furry costume than think of spreadsheets?
As I sat at my workstation doing...stuff, my sisters kept themselves entertained by reading some magazines and books they had brought with them and asking me an occasional question about what I was doing.
I completed my requisite activities, wrapped up my day, turned off my computer and we left. On the way out to the car, my one sister said, "Well, that was nice, but I still don't know what you do."
The problem is, somedays I don't either.
Well, I do know, but unless you work in my industry and speak the foreign language I speak (hint, not Spanish), it's not fun to try and explain to a layman. That makes one of my least favorite questions, "What do you do?"
Instead of trying to explain what I do, it's easier to tell you what I don't:
* Fix your computer
* Fix my computer (I have a technophile friend to do that for me, and it's not even her industry)
* Wear a big furry costume and take pictures with your kid. Or anyone else's. (Except for that one time, but that's another story).
* Write code. No, I don't work for the CIA. That's computer talk. If you don't know what that means, you're the person I couldn't even begin to explain what I do for a living.
* Get you into any amusement parks for free or discounted.
Sometimes I try to put people off by answering with my title, but it's a meaningless title with my department and "Senior Analyst" in it. It really only exists for HR purposes. So then I try to make it generic, "I'm an IT analyst." The problem with that answer is that about half the people I talk to know what IT stands for and the other half don't. The half that do think that means I'm going to be their beck and call computer gal and fix their computer for them.
The half that don't know what that means get yet another answer -- "I do computer stuff," after which point THEY think that I'm going to be their go-to computer gal.
If I sense that someone will have no concept of IT or computers or are otherwise apathetic, I placate by providing the name of the company I work for. I usually try to avoid this answer because this then conjures the image of me putting on a big furry costume to take my picture with your kid.
Worse still is when someone assumes that means I like them enough to get them and their extended family of 82 into an amusement park at a discounted rate or free. Nope, definitely not that. I don't even get that good of a discount.
Things I do (do):
* Write requirements specifications and other technical documents
* Analyze systems and business processes and make recommendations for improvements
* Manage projects
* Liaison between Enterprise IT and my division service managers to coordinate things like patch releases, upgrades, fixes and other changes that impact clusters, servers or applications
* Create ICOM, swim lane, business flow and process flow diagrams
* Create and maintain technical policies and request forms
* Work with end users to understand and document their processes so that those can be understood by more technical people and then developed into an application to then be used by a business person.
* Manage the contractor (SOW) request and creation process for hiring managers
* Create disaster recovery documents
* Excel...stuff
...And that's why I give you the answer I do when you ask me that dreaded question, "So, what do you do?" Isn't it more fun to envision me in that furry costume than think of spreadsheets?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
(Il)Legal Ironies
I've seen a lot of people that have themes to their blogs, or daily themes that they then rotate through. One common one is Friday Favorites, which I appreciate -- things you're grateful for that week, etc. I like it when other people are appreciative. I forget to do it myself. On Fridays I'm most grateful that the week is over, and that theme would just get old after...once.
I have wacky friend who lives in an alternate universe. If one can be said to live in an alternate universe while still residing in this one, that is. On any given Monday this friend calls me during her hour-long commute to the office. I can almost always expect this phrase to come out of her mouth: "So, I've been thinking..." And when I hear that, I know it's going to be one of her ideas that in her alternate universe works perfectly, but in the reality of this one, there may be some kinks to be worked out. It's almost always laughable, while just unique enough to be near genius. In fact, they probably really ARE genius, but since her ideas almost always involve ME doing the majority of the work, that's when they start tipping the scales on the side of "Genius but ... no" side of things.
Today's Manic Monday near-genius idea is that I raise chickens. Of course, I'll get paid in eggs, after I build the coop, feed and water the chickens and collect the eggs. The trade-off is completely in her favor -- she would do it except for the teensy tiny fact that she lives in the hills where coyotes and other chicken-eating critters live, so it's quite unreasonable for her to assume the responsibility of keeping the chickens safe because after all, she doesn't want to give the coyotes any more good reason to come prowling around her property.
Well, okay. When you put it that way....still no.
She's nothing if not persistent, though. She let me know she's scheduled a delivery of 50 chicks for Wednesday and would I be home. Oh, and by the way, they're young so will need to be near a light source for some time. She wasn't amused when I pointed out that my nearest and easiest heat source is my oven and that young chickens are probably quite tender.
She thought that was mean.
The next step of her sales pitch, since my getting up early to take care of the chickens wasn't a convincing enough argument for me, then turned into, "Think of the eggs you'll have during the earthquake!" I pointed out that earthquakes shake and break things, and that eggs would not be safe. Then she said, "How about during the end of the world after a holocaust? Think of the eggs you'll have cooking over a campfire while everyone else is looting!"
"Nuclear mutant eggs?"
She didn't see anything wrong with that scenario.
Needless to say, the only chicken I see in my near future is the one on the dinner table next Sunday.
I have wacky friend who lives in an alternate universe. If one can be said to live in an alternate universe while still residing in this one, that is. On any given Monday this friend calls me during her hour-long commute to the office. I can almost always expect this phrase to come out of her mouth: "So, I've been thinking..." And when I hear that, I know it's going to be one of her ideas that in her alternate universe works perfectly, but in the reality of this one, there may be some kinks to be worked out. It's almost always laughable, while just unique enough to be near genius. In fact, they probably really ARE genius, but since her ideas almost always involve ME doing the majority of the work, that's when they start tipping the scales on the side of "Genius but ... no" side of things.
Today's Manic Monday near-genius idea is that I raise chickens. Of course, I'll get paid in eggs, after I build the coop, feed and water the chickens and collect the eggs. The trade-off is completely in her favor -- she would do it except for the teensy tiny fact that she lives in the hills where coyotes and other chicken-eating critters live, so it's quite unreasonable for her to assume the responsibility of keeping the chickens safe because after all, she doesn't want to give the coyotes any more good reason to come prowling around her property.
Well, okay. When you put it that way....still no.
She's nothing if not persistent, though. She let me know she's scheduled a delivery of 50 chicks for Wednesday and would I be home. Oh, and by the way, they're young so will need to be near a light source for some time. She wasn't amused when I pointed out that my nearest and easiest heat source is my oven and that young chickens are probably quite tender.
She thought that was mean.
The next step of her sales pitch, since my getting up early to take care of the chickens wasn't a convincing enough argument for me, then turned into, "Think of the eggs you'll have during the earthquake!" I pointed out that earthquakes shake and break things, and that eggs would not be safe. Then she said, "How about during the end of the world after a holocaust? Think of the eggs you'll have cooking over a campfire while everyone else is looting!"
"Nuclear mutant eggs?"
She didn't see anything wrong with that scenario.
Needless to say, the only chicken I see in my near future is the one on the dinner table next Sunday.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Manic Monday
I've seen a lot of people that have themes to their blogs, or daily themes that they then rotate through. One common one is Friday Favorites, which I appreciate -- things you're grateful for that week, etc. I like it when other people are appreciative. I forget to do it myself. On Fridays I'm most grateful that the week is over, and that theme would just get old after...once.
I have wacky friend who lives in an alternate universe. If one can be said to live in an alternate universe while still residing in this one, that is. On any given Monday this friend calls me during her hour-long commute to the office. I can almost always expect this phrase to come out of her mouth: "So, I've been thinking..." And when I hear that, I know it's going to be one of her ideas that in her alternate universe works perfectly, but in the reality of this one, there may be some kinks to be worked out. It's almost always laughable, while just unique enough to be near genius. In fact, they probably really ARE genius, but since her ideas almost always involve ME doing the majority of the work, that's when they start tipping the scales on the side of "Genius but ... no" side of things.
Today's Manic Monday near-genius idea is that I raise chickens. Of course, I'll get paid in eggs, after I build the coop, feed and water the chickens and collect the eggs. The trade-off is completely in her favor -- she would do it except for the teensy tiny fact that she lives in the hills where coyotes and other chicken-eating critters live, so it's quite unreasonable for her to assume the responsibility of keeping the chickens safe because after all, she doesn't want to give the coyotes any more good reason to come prowling around her property.
Well, okay. When you put it that way....still no.
She's nothing if not persistent, though. She let me know she's scheduled a delivery of 50 chicks for Wednesday and would I be home. Oh, and by the way, they're young so will need to be near a light source for some time. She wasn't amused when I pointed out that my nearest and easiest heat source is my oven and that young chickens are probably quite tender.
She thought that was mean.
The next step of her sales pitch, since my getting up early to take care of the chickens wasn't a convincing enough argument for me, then turned into, "Think of the eggs you'll have during the earthquake!" I pointed out that earthquakes shake and break things, and that eggs would not be safe. Then she said, "How about during the end of the world after a holocaust? Think of the eggs you'll have cooking over a campfire while everyone else is looting!"
"Nuclear mutant eggs?"
She didn't see anything wrong with that scenario.
Needless to say, the only chicken I see in my near future is the one on the dinner table next Sunday.
I have wacky friend who lives in an alternate universe. If one can be said to live in an alternate universe while still residing in this one, that is. On any given Monday this friend calls me during her hour-long commute to the office. I can almost always expect this phrase to come out of her mouth: "So, I've been thinking..." And when I hear that, I know it's going to be one of her ideas that in her alternate universe works perfectly, but in the reality of this one, there may be some kinks to be worked out. It's almost always laughable, while just unique enough to be near genius. In fact, they probably really ARE genius, but since her ideas almost always involve ME doing the majority of the work, that's when they start tipping the scales on the side of "Genius but ... no" side of things.
Today's Manic Monday near-genius idea is that I raise chickens. Of course, I'll get paid in eggs, after I build the coop, feed and water the chickens and collect the eggs. The trade-off is completely in her favor -- she would do it except for the teensy tiny fact that she lives in the hills where coyotes and other chicken-eating critters live, so it's quite unreasonable for her to assume the responsibility of keeping the chickens safe because after all, she doesn't want to give the coyotes any more good reason to come prowling around her property.
Well, okay. When you put it that way....still no.
She's nothing if not persistent, though. She let me know she's scheduled a delivery of 50 chicks for Wednesday and would I be home. Oh, and by the way, they're young so will need to be near a light source for some time. She wasn't amused when I pointed out that my nearest and easiest heat source is my oven and that young chickens are probably quite tender.
She thought that was mean.
The next step of her sales pitch, since my getting up early to take care of the chickens wasn't a convincing enough argument for me, then turned into, "Think of the eggs you'll have during the earthquake!" I pointed out that earthquakes shake and break things, and that eggs would not be safe. Then she said, "How about during the end of the world after a holocaust? Think of the eggs you'll have cooking over a campfire while everyone else is looting!"
"Nuclear mutant eggs?"
She didn't see anything wrong with that scenario.
Needless to say, the only chicken I see in my near future is the one on the dinner table next Sunday.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Tales from the Gym: Shooting Star
I meet some interesting people at the gym where I work. "Interesting" here can be both in air quotes and literally. But this one is all air quotes.
A little over a year ago I was given the wonderful (read with air quotes) job of having the only beginner spin class. I'm an excellent teacher, and probably the best one on staff to teach the entry level participants because I talk a lot about form, endurance, goals, structure of a class -- everything a first or second timer would need to feel prepared for the longer, more hard-core classes.
As is so often the case in these situations though, this type of class tends to unintentionally invite the type of people you really don't want. They're the ones who are a bit socially behind on a normal scale, or who are there to mess around and don't really care about a group exercise environment, or the ones who think they know more than you (I'm looking at you, Ms. P.E. Teacher -- coming soon in a "Tales From the Gym" episode).
There is one woman who has been a fairly regular attendee at my beginner classes. She falls on the low end of the social skills scale and so is a bit challenging to work with. She fairly pleads for help, but when it is offered, acts offended that you would think she can't do something on her own. She's prickly in her neediness, so most of the time I avoid her simply because any interaction almost always results in some sort of weird conflict. I don't want to sound unprofessional or mean, so I won't share all the details here. But if you ever come to one of my spin classes, I'd be happy to point her out to you so you can make your own (funny) observations. Please know that I simply find some things amusing and am NOT trying to be mean.
Usually, I would try to protect this woman's identity by not telling you her name, but it's really too good to pass up. It is, in fact, the title of this entry, "Star." Don't misunderstand -- I have friends with unique names, so it's not the fact that she has a unique name that I find amusing. It's what she DOES with her name that makes me laugh. Anything with a star on it is part of her wardrobe -- a large star pendant displayed prominently around her neck, gym back with a star logo, workout tanktop with a star in the center of it -- the list goes on and on. If you ever forget her name, just look for the symbol.
The best part, though, is what she does in the middle of class. It invariably gets hot in there, as spin classes are wont to do. It's a humidity-generating activity with little evaporative action in the classroom. It gets hot, and people generally like the workout because they sweat a lot, so they think they've gotten a better workout than they would in a different class. (Not always true, but this isn't the time for that discussion.) ANYway, it's hot. You sweat. Everyone else I know just...sweats. It's okay. it's expected. It's part of the class.
But Star. Oh, Star. The first indication of her personal thermostat being on the rise is her lifting her tank top up under her sports bra exposing her midriff for all to see. It's not pretty. When that's not enough to cool her off, then out comes her hand fan. You know the ones -- like when you were a kid in church and you'd fold the program into little folds to make a personal fan. Those ones. But Star carries a REAL one in her gym bag.
Okay, you're hot. Fans work (kind of). But this is Star, so it's not just fanning herself -- nope. She lifts her arms and fans underneath her arms.
Yep. Her armpits. Fanned.
How's that for a vision?
Come see for yourself. Goodness knows I have to every Wednesday night.
A little over a year ago I was given the wonderful (read with air quotes) job of having the only beginner spin class. I'm an excellent teacher, and probably the best one on staff to teach the entry level participants because I talk a lot about form, endurance, goals, structure of a class -- everything a first or second timer would need to feel prepared for the longer, more hard-core classes.
As is so often the case in these situations though, this type of class tends to unintentionally invite the type of people you really don't want. They're the ones who are a bit socially behind on a normal scale, or who are there to mess around and don't really care about a group exercise environment, or the ones who think they know more than you (I'm looking at you, Ms. P.E. Teacher -- coming soon in a "Tales From the Gym" episode).
There is one woman who has been a fairly regular attendee at my beginner classes. She falls on the low end of the social skills scale and so is a bit challenging to work with. She fairly pleads for help, but when it is offered, acts offended that you would think she can't do something on her own. She's prickly in her neediness, so most of the time I avoid her simply because any interaction almost always results in some sort of weird conflict. I don't want to sound unprofessional or mean, so I won't share all the details here. But if you ever come to one of my spin classes, I'd be happy to point her out to you so you can make your own (funny) observations. Please know that I simply find some things amusing and am NOT trying to be mean.
Usually, I would try to protect this woman's identity by not telling you her name, but it's really too good to pass up. It is, in fact, the title of this entry, "Star." Don't misunderstand -- I have friends with unique names, so it's not the fact that she has a unique name that I find amusing. It's what she DOES with her name that makes me laugh. Anything with a star on it is part of her wardrobe -- a large star pendant displayed prominently around her neck, gym back with a star logo, workout tanktop with a star in the center of it -- the list goes on and on. If you ever forget her name, just look for the symbol.
The best part, though, is what she does in the middle of class. It invariably gets hot in there, as spin classes are wont to do. It's a humidity-generating activity with little evaporative action in the classroom. It gets hot, and people generally like the workout because they sweat a lot, so they think they've gotten a better workout than they would in a different class. (Not always true, but this isn't the time for that discussion.) ANYway, it's hot. You sweat. Everyone else I know just...sweats. It's okay. it's expected. It's part of the class.
But Star. Oh, Star. The first indication of her personal thermostat being on the rise is her lifting her tank top up under her sports bra exposing her midriff for all to see. It's not pretty. When that's not enough to cool her off, then out comes her hand fan. You know the ones -- like when you were a kid in church and you'd fold the program into little folds to make a personal fan. Those ones. But Star carries a REAL one in her gym bag.
Okay, you're hot. Fans work (kind of). But this is Star, so it's not just fanning herself -- nope. She lifts her arms and fans underneath her arms.
Yep. Her armpits. Fanned.
How's that for a vision?
Come see for yourself. Goodness knows I have to every Wednesday night.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
My Political Party
I have a birthday coming up. It's on Sunday. Fast Sunday. I'm not thrilled about that because it means I can't be selfish and make my birthday all about me, Me, ME! like I usually do, but that's okay. That's why there's Saturday. Plenty of time to hog the limelight.
But this year, I don't really care about the limelight. It's not a landmark birthday (which, the whole "Congratulations" thing on birthdays cracks me up, and hopefully I'll have the time and inclination to do another entry soon on that, because all I've done is gone to bed and lived to wake up another day.); nevertheless, it is a birthday, and it is a cause for celebration. So. Dinner on Saturday. I would be fine with just my closest of friends attending, but ... now this is where it gets political.
For a landmark birthday a few years ago, my BFFs threw me the mother of all surprise parties. That was a turning point for a group of friends, my satellite friends if you will. At that time, a group of women came together who may not otherwise have had the opportunity to be friends...and all because I went to bed and woke up on a certain (birthday) morning. That occasion marked the beginning of friendships for many of those ladies. And now, I think there's an expectation that those same people (mostly) are all the same friends we were then. We're not, though, at least in my opinion, but not everyone realizes that, or some still cling to that ideal.
So some of the invites for dinner on Saturday are for some of those people. One of them is invited with the group strictly because otherwise I'd have to spend one-on-one time with her later, and I don't want that. One of my friends asked if my "boring" friend was going to be there. I said, "She's not boring, just smug and condescending." With those three fabulous adjectives, you can see why I'm less than thrilled about her possible attendance.
Another invitee is one who I have great fun with...most of the time. Compatible sense of humor, lots of laughs, and then there are times I would like to use physical violence in the form of "smack-upside-the-head-shutup-edness." But can't not invite this person because of the social repercussions if I don't.
Then another person, Person B, I want to have attend because I rarely get a chance to hang out with her, and I adore her, and she hasn't gone to any other recent social functions because she doesn't like those people enough, and she told me she'd go to my birthday dinner, but I know it's a sacrifice for her because of some of the other people who will be there. But socially? Huge win for me that she'll be there.
Unfortunately, there's someone else who I also adore who I would love to have there also, but Person B doesn't like this person, Girl C, so I can't even invite Girl C because then Person B won't even think about going.
...And it goes on like this. I would be perfectly happy with a much smaller invitee list of people who I truly enjoy being with, but have to consider all the social ramifications of who gets along with whom and who will be offended if left off, etc. See? Political. Party. Ugh. At least religion won't be a topic of concern. The one good Protestant friend I have who I would enjoy spending time with can't make it, so she won't have to be the only Protestant gosling in a world of Mormon ducks.
But this year, I don't really care about the limelight. It's not a landmark birthday (which, the whole "Congratulations" thing on birthdays cracks me up, and hopefully I'll have the time and inclination to do another entry soon on that, because all I've done is gone to bed and lived to wake up another day.); nevertheless, it is a birthday, and it is a cause for celebration. So. Dinner on Saturday. I would be fine with just my closest of friends attending, but ... now this is where it gets political.
For a landmark birthday a few years ago, my BFFs threw me the mother of all surprise parties. That was a turning point for a group of friends, my satellite friends if you will. At that time, a group of women came together who may not otherwise have had the opportunity to be friends...and all because I went to bed and woke up on a certain (birthday) morning. That occasion marked the beginning of friendships for many of those ladies. And now, I think there's an expectation that those same people (mostly) are all the same friends we were then. We're not, though, at least in my opinion, but not everyone realizes that, or some still cling to that ideal.
So some of the invites for dinner on Saturday are for some of those people. One of them is invited with the group strictly because otherwise I'd have to spend one-on-one time with her later, and I don't want that. One of my friends asked if my "boring" friend was going to be there. I said, "She's not boring, just smug and condescending." With those three fabulous adjectives, you can see why I'm less than thrilled about her possible attendance.
Another invitee is one who I have great fun with...most of the time. Compatible sense of humor, lots of laughs, and then there are times I would like to use physical violence in the form of "smack-upside-the-head-shutup-edness." But can't not invite this person because of the social repercussions if I don't.
Then another person, Person B, I want to have attend because I rarely get a chance to hang out with her, and I adore her, and she hasn't gone to any other recent social functions because she doesn't like those people enough, and she told me she'd go to my birthday dinner, but I know it's a sacrifice for her because of some of the other people who will be there. But socially? Huge win for me that she'll be there.
Unfortunately, there's someone else who I also adore who I would love to have there also, but Person B doesn't like this person, Girl C, so I can't even invite Girl C because then Person B won't even think about going.
...And it goes on like this. I would be perfectly happy with a much smaller invitee list of people who I truly enjoy being with, but have to consider all the social ramifications of who gets along with whom and who will be offended if left off, etc. See? Political. Party. Ugh. At least religion won't be a topic of concern. The one good Protestant friend I have who I would enjoy spending time with can't make it, so she won't have to be the only Protestant gosling in a world of Mormon ducks.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Shameless Plea For Help
Many of you know, at least by reputation, my friend QwendyKay. She's entered herself into a contest to win a trip to Disneyland or something. I dunno. I wasn't really paying attention. I couldn't really concentrate over her cries of, "VOTE FOR ME!" So in an effort to get her to shut up, I am extending the invitation to you, all four faithful readers of my blog, to please vote for Qwendy.
Go here: Orange County Family Guide
You can read the rest of the stories, but you may not vote for any of the others. Or if you do, you are not allowed to vote for Jennifer Gilmore, who is Qwendy's competition, not only in this poll (as of this writing it's Qwendy at24% and Jennifer at 19%), but Jennifer's mother has never been nice to Qwendy at church. As you can imagine, that makes the stakes that much higher. It's not so much about winning the trip to Disneyland, as it is about the satisfaction of winning.
Also? If you actually do read the stories, please note that Qwendy's is actually win-worthy, I think. Jennifer's is kind of lame. And Libby's? Downright embarrassing. Who shares those kinds of personal details with cyber strangers???
Voting closes today at midnight, Pacific time.
A VOTE FOR QWENDY IS A VOTE FOR MY WELL-BEING.
Thanks.
Go here: Orange County Family Guide
You can read the rest of the stories, but you may not vote for any of the others. Or if you do, you are not allowed to vote for Jennifer Gilmore, who is Qwendy's competition, not only in this poll (as of this writing it's Qwendy at24% and Jennifer at 19%), but Jennifer's mother has never been nice to Qwendy at church. As you can imagine, that makes the stakes that much higher. It's not so much about winning the trip to Disneyland, as it is about the satisfaction of winning.
Also? If you actually do read the stories, please note that Qwendy's is actually win-worthy, I think. Jennifer's is kind of lame. And Libby's? Downright embarrassing. Who shares those kinds of personal details with cyber strangers???
Voting closes today at midnight, Pacific time.
A VOTE FOR QWENDY IS A VOTE FOR MY WELL-BEING.
Thanks.
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