I don’t like to talk about my job too much on this site because I’ve found that even if co-workers don’t know about this site immediately, they will eventually find it. And really, it’s bad enough when they find out that I’m an undercover Space Camp-attending, Harry Potter-loving, High School Musical-watching dork (OK, so I’m not really that undercover about it), so I really don’t need them reading about themselves or anyone else we work with on this site. Also, I like this job. I’d like to keep it. Unlike that one job with the crazy cat lady that made me want to shove pencils in my eyes. Or the one after that with the insane woman who would walk into the office, slam all of the doors, stomp up the stairs, throw a tantrum and then come back downstairs and call a meeting so she could stare at all of us for 20 minutes to see if it actually is possible for someone to melt into their own chair. I don’t mind talking about them. Crazy ass people.
But the new job is pretty nice so I’ll refrain from talking about anyone’s quirks, at least until I can come up with suitable nicknames that will disguise the fact that I’m talking about them.
One pet peeve I will mention, though, is my new office’s Internet filters. In the ongoing fight against worker distraction, they tend to block everything on the planet. When I need to find a new Photoshop brush for a project…blocked (under Hobbies). When I need to find out where to get new blades for our paper cutter…blocked (again, someone, somewhere must have a paper cutting hobby). When I need to find a video of someone using a certain type of miter saw…blocked (under Video).
But now they’ve gone too far. They’ve blocked Entertainment. People.com. Cnn.com Entertainment. E! Online. How am I to find out when Lindsey Lohan gets out of rehab or when Britney finally is sent to a mental institution?! Do they not understand what important business this is?!
Obviously I believe we should protest. Possibly get together a huge group and stand out in the street and hold up signs with sticks. We could sing “Seize the day!” and do choreographed dances with Christian Bale. We could yell at the “scabs” in bad New York accents, possibly with what’s-his-name from Doogie Howser….
Who’s with me?!
http://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.png00Meganhttp://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.pngMegan2007-08-07 09:16:182007-08-07 09:16:19I've Been Blocked
Or no. Quite possibly the answer is a very resounding no, as I cannot think of anything remotely worth reading to write about today. I don’t feel like writing about how I finally bathed my dog, and how she is now cowaring from me in the corner of the house. I don’t feel like writing about my husband’s new idea that married couples should have sex at least 4 times a week. Wait, he’s downed the number to 3. Now I feel as if I’m in some kind of auction. I don’t feel like writing about how I’m bored at work, even though the work is pretty interesting, I just can’t get motivated. I don’t feel like writing about how overwhelmed I am with all of my new ideas for freelance work and for this very site. I don’t even feel like writing about Lucy, even though she is obviously the coolest and most awesome kid on the planet. I don’t feel like writing about the fact that I’ve realized my iPod playlist is extremely random and insanely lame (first The Donnas, then Britney Spears, then Cat Power, then BRMC, then Duran Duran, then Dishwalla….who the hell listens to Diswalla?!).
Lately I’ve been looking around the Interweb trying to find some new places to peak my curiousity a little bit and get me motivated to keep trucking along with this site. Although I’m very thankful to have this outlet, sometimes I just don’t feel like spewing anything out into the world. Sometimes the world can do with less spew.
But the world can never have enough cupcakes. Which, for some reason, I really need today. So for all of you local readers, here’s a tip. You must check out Baby Cakes over in the River Market. And when I say “must” I mean “MUST!”
Don’t believe me? Check these suckers out:
Gormet cupcakes? Now that is something to write about!
Today you turn 14 months old. To celebrate, instead of leaving for work at 5:30 a.m. and not seeing you until the end of the day, I stayed home and we had breakfast together. When I walked into your room you were so confused. “Hmmmm…you’re here. Is the doggie here? Is Dada here?” After a few seconds you decided, hey, what the hell, let’s be spontaneous today, and you started jumping all over your crib going “Hi! Hi! Hi!” And then you realized your Elmo doll was on the floor and totally forgot I was even in the room. Glad I mean so much to you, kid.
I went back and re-read some of my older posts about you, Lucy, and realized almost every month I say, “you’re becoming your own person” or “you’re so independent now.” I guess I just need to get over the fact that you are no longer that little blob that needed me for every tiny thing and you’re now a toddler with opinions and thoughts that are very much your own. Opinions on which cup you like (this one, not that one, unless someone else is using that one, in which case, you’d better give me that one…or this one), which is your favorite ball (whichever one is the one you don’t have at that very second) or what is your favorite food (Green beans! No, watermelon! No, green beans! I hate green beans!).
Have I mentioned your dancing yet? Oh well, I’m mentioning it again. Because, my goodness, child, your dancing is HILARIOUS! In all capital letters. You like to drop it like it’s hot or stomp around marching. You’re also a fan of twirling in circles. Twirling and twirling until you get dizzy and fall down laughing. And you really don’t care which music we listen to, as long as you’re able to dance. Your dad’s commented that it’s like living in the movie Footloose. I commented that he, your dad, hater of all 80’s movies except ones starring the Transformers, Ninja Turtles or Howard the Duck, just referenced Footloose? Really? I guess all those episodes of I Love the 80s that I made him watch in college actually paid off.
Also, you have huge feet. Huge and dirty. Like mine. This mortifies your father. But it makes me happy.
The one complaint I have from this month is that you’ve started running away from me. You think it’s a game, chase or something. If I set you down outside while I fiddle around for my keys, I’ll look up and you’ll be halfway down the block, laughing manically. Um, Lucy, stop doing that! And when I start after you, please don’t look back while you’re running to make sure I’m following. This just leads to you falling down on your face. Which is not fun for either of us.
You’re becoming such a fun kid, Lucy. You’re now someone I interact with and play with instead of something I just take care of. You still need me for some things, but I love that you know how to do things yourself, like sit and look at a book or talk to your dolls for hours. I adore your sense of humor, and I secretly died laughing when you whacked your dad on the head with your Elmo doll and the rock-hard Elmo eyes left a huge lump on his forehead. You thought that was so funny, and guess what? You were right. Thanks for making each day more fun than the one before it. And thanks for still needing me to stroke your hair when you’re sad.
I’ve Been Blocked
/3 Comments/in Work, World /by MeganI don’t like to talk about my job too much on this site because I’ve found that even if co-workers don’t know about this site immediately, they will eventually find it. And really, it’s bad enough when they find out that I’m an undercover Space Camp-attending, Harry Potter-loving, High School Musical-watching dork (OK, so I’m not really that undercover about it), so I really don’t need them reading about themselves or anyone else we work with on this site. Also, I like this job. I’d like to keep it. Unlike that one job with the crazy cat lady that made me want to shove pencils in my eyes. Or the one after that with the insane woman who would walk into the office, slam all of the doors, stomp up the stairs, throw a tantrum and then come back downstairs and call a meeting so she could stare at all of us for 20 minutes to see if it actually is possible for someone to melt into their own chair. I don’t mind talking about them. Crazy ass people.
But the new job is pretty nice so I’ll refrain from talking about anyone’s quirks, at least until I can come up with suitable nicknames that will disguise the fact that I’m talking about them.
One pet peeve I will mention, though, is my new office’s Internet filters. In the ongoing fight against worker distraction, they tend to block everything on the planet. When I need to find a new Photoshop brush for a project…blocked (under Hobbies). When I need to find out where to get new blades for our paper cutter…blocked (again, someone, somewhere must have a paper cutting hobby). When I need to find a video of someone using a certain type of miter saw…blocked (under Video).
But now they’ve gone too far. They’ve blocked Entertainment. People.com. Cnn.com Entertainment. E! Online. How am I to find out when Lindsey Lohan gets out of rehab or when Britney finally is sent to a mental institution?! Do they not understand what important business this is?!
Obviously I believe we should protest. Possibly get together a huge group and stand out in the street and hold up signs with sticks. We could sing “Seize the day!” and do choreographed dances with Christian Bale. We could yell at the “scabs” in bad New York accents, possibly with what’s-his-name from Doogie Howser….
Who’s with me?!
I’m Interesting, Yes?
/1 Comment/in Blond, Grumples /by MeganOr no. Quite possibly the answer is a very resounding no, as I cannot think of anything remotely worth reading to write about today. I don’t feel like writing about how I finally bathed my dog, and how she is now cowaring from me in the corner of the house. I don’t feel like writing about my husband’s new idea that married couples should have sex at least 4 times a week. Wait, he’s downed the number to 3. Now I feel as if I’m in some kind of auction. I don’t feel like writing about how I’m bored at work, even though the work is pretty interesting, I just can’t get motivated. I don’t feel like writing about how overwhelmed I am with all of my new ideas for freelance work and for this very site. I don’t even feel like writing about Lucy, even though she is obviously the coolest and most awesome kid on the planet. I don’t feel like writing about the fact that I’ve realized my iPod playlist is extremely random and insanely lame (first The Donnas, then Britney Spears, then Cat Power, then BRMC, then Duran Duran, then Dishwalla….who the hell listens to Diswalla?!).
Lately I’ve been looking around the Interweb trying to find some new places to peak my curiousity a little bit and get me motivated to keep trucking along with this site. Although I’m very thankful to have this outlet, sometimes I just don’t feel like spewing anything out into the world. Sometimes the world can do with less spew.
But the world can never have enough cupcakes. Which, for some reason, I really need today. So for all of you local readers, here’s a tip. You must check out Baby Cakes over in the River Market. And when I say “must” I mean “MUST!”
Don’t believe me? Check these suckers out:
Gormet cupcakes? Now that is something to write about!
14 Months
/1 Comment/in Lucy, Photos /by MeganDear Lucy,
Today you turn 14 months old. To celebrate, instead of leaving for work at 5:30 a.m. and not seeing you until the end of the day, I stayed home and we had breakfast together. When I walked into your room you were so confused. “Hmmmm…you’re here. Is the doggie here? Is Dada here?” After a few seconds you decided, hey, what the hell, let’s be spontaneous today, and you started jumping all over your crib going “Hi! Hi! Hi!” And then you realized your Elmo doll was on the floor and totally forgot I was even in the room. Glad I mean so much to you, kid.
I went back and re-read some of my older posts about you, Lucy, and realized almost every month I say, “you’re becoming your own person” or “you’re so independent now.” I guess I just need to get over the fact that you are no longer that little blob that needed me for every tiny thing and you’re now a toddler with opinions and thoughts that are very much your own. Opinions on which cup you like (this one, not that one, unless someone else is using that one, in which case, you’d better give me that one…or this one), which is your favorite ball (whichever one is the one you don’t have at that very second) or what is your favorite food (Green beans! No, watermelon! No, green beans! I hate green beans!).
Have I mentioned your dancing yet? Oh well, I’m mentioning it again. Because, my goodness, child, your dancing is HILARIOUS! In all capital letters. You like to drop it like it’s hot or stomp around marching. You’re also a fan of twirling in circles. Twirling and twirling until you get dizzy and fall down laughing. And you really don’t care which music we listen to, as long as you’re able to dance. Your dad’s commented that it’s like living in the movie Footloose. I commented that he, your dad, hater of all 80’s movies except ones starring the Transformers, Ninja Turtles or Howard the Duck, just referenced Footloose? Really? I guess all those episodes of I Love the 80s that I made him watch in college actually paid off.
Also, you have huge feet. Huge and dirty. Like mine. This mortifies your father. But it makes me happy.
The one complaint I have from this month is that you’ve started running away from me. You think it’s a game, chase or something. If I set you down outside while I fiddle around for my keys, I’ll look up and you’ll be halfway down the block, laughing manically. Um, Lucy, stop doing that! And when I start after you, please don’t look back while you’re running to make sure I’m following. This just leads to you falling down on your face. Which is not fun for either of us.
You’re becoming such a fun kid, Lucy. You’re now someone I interact with and play with instead of something I just take care of. You still need me for some things, but I love that you know how to do things yourself, like sit and look at a book or talk to your dolls for hours. I adore your sense of humor, and I secretly died laughing when you whacked your dad on the head with your Elmo doll and the rock-hard Elmo eyes left a huge lump on his forehead. You thought that was so funny, and guess what? You were right. Thanks for making each day more fun than the one before it. And thanks for still needing me to stroke your hair when you’re sad.
I love you, little monkey.
Love,
Mama