Hooray for holidays.

Ahhhh, the holidays. That magical time of year when we get together with the ones we love and make total asses out of ourselves.

*During the drive to a relatives house, I will inevitably be criticized by backseat drivers who have no business being in a car with me in the first place. My mother will scream at me to make a left, because she's absolutely certain that's the way to go. My father will outscream her and tell me to make a right, whichever I choose will be the wrong choice, guaranteed.

*Family members will rudely ask me about my personal life, because obviously it's their business.

*My mother will say something completely innapropriate at a family gathering and not even care.

*My cat will rip off the face of an unsuspecting young child who just wanted to "pet the kitty" (my cat doesn't like you; please don't touch him).

*Someone will get drunk and fall down the stairs. It will probably be me.

*I will call my cousins boyfriend "Tom" when his name is actually "Joe", not knowing that she dumped Tom 3 days prior for Joe. She will cry, it will be my fault.

*A family member will give me the gift of a shirt that is 5 times too big for me, insinuating that I am a fat cow. I will cry and skip my 3rd helping of dessert.

*Everyone will bring a "dish" to dinner, except for me of course, because I am 25 and can't make toast.

*The Christmas tree will fall over on my 97 year old grandmother, who never saw it coming because she was passed out drunk anyway.

*My relatives who swore they'd be there on time will be 2 hours late, and since it is "rude" to eat without everyone present, I will be forced to drive to McDonalds to get a double quarter pounder, which will end up all over my holiday dress.

My dear friends, I hope your holidays run smoothly, and I hope you get everything you wished for. May your days be merry and bright, and may all your Christmases be white!

Or not, because it sucks to drive in the snow.

My amazing adventures at Costco.

I am not very familiar with Costco. My boss took me there when I first started my job to get a membership and get my picture taken and the whole hoopla, but that was the only time I was ever there. I decided to go back yesterday to get a festive holiday basket filled with goodies. It was kind of a disaster.

First of all, the Costco near my work is in the worst possible location, and it is almost unreachable by car. It is right near 202 and Mall Boulevard in King of Prussia, which is a very tricky spot to be getting in and out of. Once you get there, you realize very quickly that the parking lot is way too small, and that the chances of your car being hit by another car are 99.9%, which is a ridiculously high percentage, but it's true.

Anyway, I found a parking spot and made my way towards the entrance. The first door I hit was the "EXIT" door, but you are not in any way, shape, or form allowed to pass through that door unless you are indeed exiting. So I made my way to the "ENTRANCE" door, to be greeted by a little old man who will not let me enter the store because my Costco card with my ghastly picture on it is not visible. He makes me stand out in the freezing cold to rummage through my purse and wallet until find the card. After about 5 minutes of looking, I would think perhaps he would just tell me to come inside, but no, I must remain outside in 3 degree weather until I find this hideous card. I finally find it, I show it to him, and he lets me through.

Once I get inside, I have no idea where to go. There is no rhyme or reason to this store, everything is everywhere. I make my way over to the spot where my boss took me the last time we were here, which is where I am supposed to find festive holiday baskets. Alas, everything has been moved. In place of the baskets I find a plethora of memory foam slippers and 35 dollar down pillows. I make a mental note of the location of the pillows for future reference.

After wandering aimlessly around the store for 25 minutes, I finally spot the festive holiday baskets. I pick one up to inspect it, only to find out that none of them are marked with prices. I throw a mini temper tantram in the aisle for 5 minutes before realizing that all prices are above the objects. How the hell was I supposed to know? I choose the basket that is within my price range, and I pick it up to see exactly what kind of goodies are inside. And as I am standing there, unmoving in my spot, the ugliest woman I have ever seen drives her cart directly into my body. I am so astonished by this, seeing as how I had been standing there, stationary, in my spot for at least 30 seconds. It's not like she was even going that fast, or like she was coming around a corner and just didn't see me.... nor was I standing in the middle of the aisle, taking up the whole aisle like a big fat cow. I guess she just felt like she could push me out of her way, literally. As the cart struck my left hip, she tried to act surprised, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you." What does she mean she didn't see me? What could she possibly MEAN by that? I had been standing in the same spot for 30 seconds, as she was meandering down the aisle with her cart, slowly inspecting each item in the aisle! You knew I was there, crazy woman, I had been there for at least 30 seconds. I just said, "It's ok" and walked away with my basket. I didn't feel like getting into a fight at Costco.

I made my way over to the registers, and it was a nightmare. Every single person in the King of Prussia area was in the check out line at Costco on this particular day. I picked the slowest moving line possible, of course, and it also happened to be the one with all of the Scrooges in it, complaining that the line was too long. Look, we all know that it's a long line, there is no need to talk about it loudly so that everyone else can hear you. Do you think that will make the line move faster? Because it won't.

I am next in line, and I realize that Costco checkout lines are different than any other checkout line I am used to. Your items go on the belt, you go in one line, and your cart goes in another line. A Costco guy comes and escorts your cart to the other end of the line, where he will stock your cart with your purchases of the day. I get to the checkout woman, and she holds her hand out.... ohmygod, she wants my Costco card. What the hell did I do with it? Did that crazy little man ever give it back to me? Sure he did.... but what did I do with it? I check my wallet, but no, it never made it back into my wallet. I dump my purse out onto the register, but it's not there either... I stick my hand in my coat pocket, and much to my delight, I pull out the card. The grumpy old man behind me is muttering about how long I am taking. I, of course, ignore him because he is old and his opinions do not matter to me. I give her the card, give her my money, and the guy who is stocking my cart THROWS my festive holiday basket into my cart like he is slam dunking a basketball. I make my over to the "EXIT" door, and there is woman there, who will not let you leave the store until she sees your receipt. Of course I've already lost my receipt, even though I just left the register. I find it in my pocket with the Costco card. I angrily shove it in her face, she marks it with a black pen, and lets me leave. I then wonder if there is a final test I must pass before I can completely leave the store and forget this whole horrible experience ever happened. But no, no one checks to make sure that I have a black pen mark on my receipt, so I cross the parking lot to get to my car.

And wouldn't you know, the hideous woman who hit my left hip with her cart has parked her monstrous minivan next to my little car, and she has all of her damn doors open as she loads her ONE item into her minivan. I had to wait for her to close all of her doors before I could get into my car. It is 3 degrees out, and all I want to do is punch this woman in the face.

I drive over to the hotel that I actually bought the basket for (it's a giveaway for a monthly drawing). I take it over to the manager, and as I am getting ready to tell him about my horrific experience, he says, "I don't like that basket".

This is my life.

Screw you Costco, for ruining my day.

Snake!

I swear, every time I try to have a nice relaxing evening, something crazy happens that prevents me from doing so. Such is life.

So yesterday was Sunday, the day I normally use to recuperate from any weekend activites that may have occured. I was watching the season premier of Family Guy, and everything was going quite well. I was sitting in bed, laughing at Stewie's crazy antics, when I hear my mom scream. I jumped out of bed and ran into the hallway, and I shouted "Where are you?" She was standing in the kitchen near the basement stairs, but I couldn't see her, I could only hear her. She then screamed, "Gretchen!" (which is me), "Brian!" (which is my dad), "Flash!" (which is my cat), and then "Snake!" (Snake? Did she really just say snake?) She then screamed something completely unintelligable about finding my father and killing a snake, so I did what any person in my position would do.... I ran to find my daddy.

I ran up the stairs to his bedroom, and of course, he's fast asleep, and has no idea of the craziness that's occuring downstairs. I wake him up by yelling, "THERE'S A SNAKE IN THE KITCHEN, MOMS FREAKING OUT!" He's still half asleep, and he says to me, "Did you say snake?" So of course, I yell back, "YES I SAID SNAKE!! WE GOTTA GO!"

So we run down the stairs and my mom is screaming, "Don't come in here! The snake will bite you, he's under the fridge!" The next few seconds were complete pandemonium. I grabbed my cat, who was very interested in the situation, and threw him into my bedroom and slammed the door. My dad grabbed a rubbermaid bin, the kind you would put your summer clothes in to pack them away. He took the lid off of it, handed it to me, and we made our way into the kitchen. Sure enough, there's Mr. Snake, slithering around under our fridge. He must have made his way in through the gap under our side door in the kitchen.... we had it open all day long.

So my dad starts yelling about how it's definitely not a garden snake because it has bands around it, my mom is screaming because she thinks she's gonna die, and I'm holding the top to a rubbermaid bin. My dad slid the bin towards Mr. Snake, and he willingly slithered into it and we slapped the top on like nobody's business. We all took a second to breathe, and then my dad and I came up with a game plan. We are going to release the snake in the woods across from my house. For those that don't know, I live on a pretty major road, and crossing it is not advised at any time, especially at 9:30 at night. But nontheless, we grab our trusty flashlight and head out there.

Other than the fact that my dad is only wearing boxer shorts and sandals, and I can't see shit because I don't have my contacts in, we get across the street with pretty much no problem. My dad tips the bin over, opens the lid, and Mr. Snake slithers out into the darkness. He was about 3 feet long. My dad and I made a made dash back towards the house, we didn't want to stick around and hang out in the woods with Mr. Snake anymore.

So, the moral of THIS story is, praise your pets when they do fun things, like play with snakes. Flash was the one that spotted him slithering around in the kitchen, and my mom went over to see what he was "stalking". If Flash hadn't have seen him, my mom would have stepped right on that bitch. Guaranteed. Because that's just how things work.

Rock on with your bad self, Flash!

It's a train wreck, bitch.

Oh my. Britney Spears. How do I love thee.... let me count the ways.

Your lip synching is amazing, as is your stellar choreography. Did you choreograph that yourself? I bet you did, you little vixen. I especially enjoyed that sexy outfit that emphasized the beauty of your baby fat. I just can't keep my eyes off of you, Britney. Keep doing that sweet thang you do.

Anyway........In case you can't tell, I watched the Video Music Awards last night. I don't want to talk to much about THAT, but I do want to talk about the thrilling programing that MTV has lined up for this fall.

1. Pageant Place. A bunch of beauty queens living in a house together, fighting over lip gloss. Drama ensues.

2. Kaya. A young rocker starlet doesn't know how to cope with her new found fame. Drugs, alcohol, and promiscuous sex? Christ, I hope so.

3. A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila. 16 lesbians con 16 horny straight guys into falling in love with them. All this while Miss Tequila attempts to find a boyfriend. I'm wondering why Tila Tequila needs to go on a reality show to find a man.... I need more info. Also, Miss Tequila reveals her huge "secret" to the world... she's bisexual. Is this really a secret? Because I've known this for quite some time now.

Since I dont have enough time in my day to watch all of this fabulous programming, and I can only allocate one new show into my schedule right now, I've picked the one about Tila Tequila. Surprised? Didn't think so. I mean, they all sound good... seriously, these three shows are going to blow My Super Sweet 16 right out of the water.

I don't get no respect!

Do you think if I dyed my hair brown, people would stop treating me like a brainless blonde bimbo? That's the question of the day.

I've never been one to say things like that, but sometimes I guess certain things just have to be said. Now, I am in no way, shape, or form attempting to associate myself with the likes of actual brainless blonde bimbos (such as the "Girls Next Door"). I have never once claimed to be a sexy supermodel with the IQ of a peanut, and I would appreciate it if you didn't lump me into this horrendous category.

All I'm trying to say is that I'm not a total jackass. Don't treat me like one. I'm not going to get on a soapbox and use the old, "I graduated from a great college, I've acheived this or that in my career" bullshit. I'm simply saying that I'm not a fucking moron. So don't treat me like one or you'll get punched in the face. Not slapped, punched. Only bitches slap.

love,
me

Albinos, Albanians, and You: 10 Things I've Learned This Summer.

My friends,With summer all-to-quickly coming to end, I thought I'd share some things with you.
These are the top 10 things I've learned this summer, in no particular order.
1. Don't go on a date with someone who doesn't speak english. It's difficult.
2. Don't believe someone just because they are supposed to be an "expert" on something. Do your own research and form your own opinions. (That goes out to YOU, Sirius Satellite Radio staff!)
3. Don't take your cell phone in the bathtub with you. Cell phone + water = a very bad experience.
4. Shit happens, deal with it. Chances are, that shit happened for a reason, and if you don't move on, you'll never know what that reason is.
5. Don't do 71 mph in a 55 mph zone. You WILL get pulled over.
6. Don't forget to wear sunscreen. And if your fair skinned, use SPF 260, or else you'll burst into flames when sitting on the beach.
7. Kanye West has no skills as a lyricist.
8. Don't drive your car into things. Curbs are there for a reason.
9. Don't go to the bar with your parents. You could get wasted and end up dropping the F bomb in front of your mom.
10. If you give someone of the opposite sex your phone number and they don't call you, don't waste time wondering why they didn't call. They're just not that into you. Or maybe they just don't speak english....

I hope everyone had a great summer. Fall, here we come!

Hellish.

Have you ever had one of those days? You know, where you REALLY should not have gotten out of bed that morning?

Hello, July 26, 2007. I will try to be brief.

My sunroof that I just had installed in my car 3 days ago has fallen in. So, I take the car back to Hyundai, only to hear that they do not have a rental car for me. A 900 year old man will now drive me in a shuttle back to my office. When the car is ready, I have Mika and Travis take me from my office to Hyundai to pick up my car, because I do not want to bother the 900 year old man again.

I pick up my car, everything is great. I am driving home from Hyundai, when I witness a car accident take place 3 cars in front of me. Of course, no one else stops, so I decide to be the responsible one and pull over. The cops arrive and I am the "expert witness", and we all know how much I love to talk to cops. I give them my account of what happened, and they let me go. Thankfully.

So then I get home and jump online. I'm expecting a nice quiet evening at home. All is going well, until my mom screams, "Something is on fire!"So much for my relaxing evening.

So I run outside, because she is looking out the window and screaming about the backyard. As it would turn out, the transformer that is in my backyard is on fire. In about a matter of 3 seconds, my entire neighborhood has lost power. By the time I have realized the gravity of the situation, the fire department is there, but they are not putting out the fire. They are standing in my neighbors backyard hanging out, drinking beers. Pointing and staring. Eventually one guy decides to put out the fire, and they put a new transformer in, which takes a grand total of 3 hours.

Basically, today sucked and I really hope tomorrow is better.

My letter to July.

Dear July,

I understand you will be coming to visit me soon. I have mixed feelings about this, because your friend June is currently here, and let me tell you, she has NOT been pleasant. I might even go so far as to say she is quite possibly the worst house guest I've ever had. A lot of crappy things have occured since June got here, including, but not limited to:

-I got a temperature of one million and three degrees.
-I had to run 20 miles per hour to catch a train that was about to leave me behind. Twice.
-I had the pleasure of having my job suck all the joy from my life.
-I went crazy.
-I had to be away from family and friends on my birthday.
-I destroyed my bedroom in a fit of rage.
-I had to help a stupid bitch plan her April 26, 2008 wedding.
-The migraine from Hell infiltrated my life, and hasn't left yet....
-My mom accidentally sprayed me with mase.

July, these are just a FEW of the shitty things that have happened to me since June's arrival. And she's still here! Oh man, I cannot WAIT for her to leave.

I'm hoping we can have a better time than June and I did. You will be here for approximately 31 days, and I'm trying to plan some really great activities for us to do together. So please hurry, because if I have to look at June for another day I will stab myself in the eye.
Your friend,
g.
P.S. Don't forget to bring your bathing suit!

Make Lemonade.

Look, I know I just blogged less than 24 hours ago. So sue me.

Life itself never ceases to amaze me. Last night I talked to God for over an hour before I realized he wasn't listening. I guess he had other more pressing issues to attend to, which is fine. I feel like I'm at the lunchmeat counter at Giant, and you have to take a number to be helped. Well, I've taken my number, and now I am waiting not-so-patiently for my help.

Or maybe He WAS listening, which is why I'm able to wiggle my fingers and toes today.

Either way, I woke up this morning. I walked outside and took and deep breath. It's a beautiful day. It's sunny and warm. Life is here. It's all around me.
There are butterflies in the front yard and squirrels in the backyard. I don't really like squirrels, though. One time they invaded my house and moved all of their squirrel belongings into my attic and tried to have a party. My dad chased them around with a beebee gun. I'm getting a little off topic here, sorry about that.

My point is that I am here. I was granted another day on this rotating ball we call Earth. I think sometimes we lose sight of the fact that tomorrow is not promised to us. So in the time that we are here, we should learn to make the best of our time. And when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

I think I'm going to write a book. It will be the "Autobiography of Gretchen". It probably won't be a bestseller, but who cares? Not everyone will want to read the story of my life, but I believe that once you pick up the book, you won't be able to put it down. I have seen many things and had many life experiences in the time that I've been around. And who knows how long I'm going to be around for? If I live to be 97, that equals 35,405 days of utter excitement. Cause let's face it; it's never a dull moment around here. Of course, it would not be published until after my death, so I wouldn't be able to see if anyone actually READ the book, but once again, who cares? No one could read it, for all I care. It would be own little accomplishment. And if you don't wanna read it, screw you. I probably talked trash about you in it anyway.

That's my thought for the day. I'm going to move my blog soon to an undisclosed location. If anyone actually reads my rantings, let me know, I'll give you the link.

Trudge forward, earthlings!

Top 10 reasons to move to Egypt.

1. The Nile. A beautiful river.
2. The pyramids. Providing lots of places for Gretchen to get lost.
3. That crazy walk those Egyptians got goin' on. I heard someone even wrote a song about it!
4. Sahara freakin' desert. Sure it's hot, but so is Pennsylvania.... right?
5. Hieroglyphics. It's always fun learning a new language!

I couldn't think of ten reasons.... so I just included five. Ahhh, fuck it.

Th-th-th-that's all, folks!

Hello little girl, is your mother in?

Sometimes things happen to me that are a little out of the ordinary, and I wish that there was someone to witness the madness as it occurs. But once again, in this case, there were no witnesses.

Last weekend I heard a knock on my front door. My parents were upstairs and didn't hear it, so I went into the living room and looked out the window. Usually it's a random friend of mine who doesn't know how to use a cell phone and decides to just stop by, which is fine. But this time I didn't recognize the car, but I opened the door anyway.

It turned out to be a guy who was dropping some papers off for my parents, which is a pretty normal scenario. He said, "Hello miss, are Mr. or Mrs. Hunsberger in?" Now, my parents REALLY don't like to be bothered with such things, and talking to people in the outside world is not my mothers strong suit, so I said, "No, unfortunately they are not." (There were like,7 cars in my driveway at the time, so of course he didn't believe me, and I didn't really expect him to). So he says, "Oh, are you their daughter?" I stated that I was indeed their daughter. He looked at me with despair on his face, like he really was distraught about something. So he thinks for a minute, and then finally, he says, "Well, I suppose I can leave these papers with you... but I can only leave them with an adult." So he looks at me with a look that you would give a little girl who is about to receive a very important task, such as feeding the doggy. And he says to me, in an I'm-speaking-to-a-5-year-old voice, "Are you at least 18?"

I guess it just kinda took my by surprise. I was so surprised, in fact, that I started laughing hysterically. Right in his face. I managed to stutter, "I'm 24...." and he just looked at me like I couldn't POSSIBLY be telling him the truth. Now I know I don't quite look my age, and I am only 5'2'.... but still, 18? He wasn't even sure if I was 18! I could see MAYBE if he had said it in such a way as to verify that I was "a legal adult", but that was not the way he said it. He honestly did not know if I was 18 or not. It's not like I came to the door holding a Polly Pocket toy and wearing a Burger King Kid's Meal hat with a lollipop hanging outta my mouth. I was wearing my 24 year old clothes and speaking in my big girl voice.

So anyway, I obviously embarrased him and he handed me the papers and drove away. It was a great time, and it was the highlight of my day. Just thought I would share that story since my 25th birthday is almost upon us.... hey, let's get together and celebrate!

Now there's something that doesn't happen everyday.

So this morning, on my way to work, I was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic. It's nothing new to me, it happens every day. It was a little more ridiculous today, though. I'd say traffic was backed up for about a mile or so, just one continuous line of cars, just sitting. People listening to music, doing their makeup, smoking their cigarettes. Nothing really out of the ordinary.

I was minding my own business when the guy in the car in front of me got out of his car and starting walking toward my car. I thought to myself, "Is he coming over here? Do I know him? He can't possibly be coming to MY car."

Well, he was. He stopped at my drivers side window and motioned for me to roll it down. So what do I do... do I shake my head and look the other way? Do I roll down the window and possibly meet my impending death? I only have a split second to decide. So I roll down my window.

He's a tall guy, can't be over the age of 33. He's wearing a weird hat, the kind you would wear if you were going ice fishing. And he's driving a BMW.

So he says to me, "Hi! I know this is kinda weird, but... can I borrow your cell phone? I left mine at home and I didn't expect this much traffic and I'm running late for a doctor's appointment. I threw my back out and I have an 8 o clock appointment. There's no way I can get to King of Prussia by 8! I'd like to call my doctor to see if he still wants me to come in."

So, again, what do I do... do I say no, tell him that I don't have a cell phone when it's sitting so obviously next to me in my passengers seat? Do I let him use the cell phone and pray he doesn't kill me? I handed him my cell phone.

He said, "Thank you so much, I really appreciate it!" And he stood next to my car while he called the doctor. In the meantime, I am thinking about many things... I'm thinking about how I should have gotten that damn mase for my keychain like I always planned to. I'm thinking that if he WERE to kill me, there would be WAY too many witnesses. We're in the middle of a traffic jam, for christ's sake. And I'm at the bottom of a hill.... so everyone behind me is witnessing this as it is taking place. He wouldn't dare kill me here, would he? Maybe he's planning on kidnapping me.... I'm memorizing his license plate number just in case.

His doctor doesn't answer, so he leaves him a message. He says, "Thank you sooo much! I really appreciate it!" I say, "You're welcome." He hands me my cell phone, and then asks me, "What do you think I should do? Do you think I should try to make it into King of Prussia? My doctor's office is right next to the Radisson." I tell him that once he gets onto 422 he should be fine. I quietly note the fact that he doesn't look like someone who just threw his back out. Then again, I don't know anyone that has thrown their back out, so how the hell am I supposed to know what that looks like? He says he's going to head to King of Prussia, thanks me for the cell phone again, and gets in his car.

So I figure everything is cool, and I'm safe. He's just a guy. Forgot his cell phone. Happens to the best of us. While I'm thinking about all of this, my cell phone rings and startles the shit out of me. It's my co-worker Jenna, letting me know that she also is stuck in traffic, and as it turns out, she's about 10 cars behind me. I decided not to mention what has just occurred... I'll wait until we actually get to work. Whenever that may be....

We move a few feet and stop again. I'm listening to that damn fergalicious song, rocking out, when I notice BMW guy getting out of his car again. Oh no. Here comes my death.

He comes over to my window, and I roll it down. He says, "I'm so sorry, this must seem really weird to you!" No kidding. "Could I borrow your cell phone one more time? It's after 8 and I think my doctor might be in the office by now." So once again, I hand him my cell phone. Just then, traffic starts moving, and he's now a good 3 car lengths behind the car in front of him. He says, "Do you mind if I get in my car with your cell phone, and move up a few feet so people don't start honking?" At this point, I figure, he's not going to steal my cell phone. And even if he did, where the hell is he gonna go? There's no side streets, no other lanes, nowhere to go. He's stuck in traffic, just like me. So I say, "Go ahead." He gets in his car, moves up, and parks it. He gets back out and hands me my cell phone. "The doctor told me to go ahead and come in. Thank you so much again, I wish there was something I could do for you!" I tell him it's no problem, as I'm thinking to myself, "Just don't kill me." We start moving again, and as we merge onto 422 and start moving at an actual normal pace, he sticks his hand out his window and waves to me. I watch him as he gets off at the King of Prussia exit.

So as it turns out, he's just a guy. He forgot his cell phone. He really was appreciative. Would I ask a complete stranger if I could borrow their cell phone? Probably not, but if I did, I would hope that a person would be like I was, and let me borrow it. Because I know I would be appreciative.

So, here is my in depth question of the day: Is it wrong of me to think that a random guy would want to kill me? Is it because I am a female, and females are taught that guys are bad, and they all want to rape and kill you? Is it because we are taught not to trust strangers, even though a "stranger" could really just be a person in need, like me or you? Is it because every time I look at the news some guy is killing a girl my age?

When he first approached me, I thought of every single thing I had ever been taught about defending myself. I was taught to scream loudly when being attacked, I was taught to knee a man in the groin as hard as possible, and when he bends over in pain, run away. I was taught that women should carry mase on them, all the time, wherever they go.

Nobody ever taught me to trust a stranger. It's just something you don't do. But apparantly, there ARE just a few trustworthy people left, and it's a shame that we lump them in with the rest of the trash that's out there.

So to the guy who borrowed my cell phone this morning, I hope your back feels better really soon. And thanks for not killing me, because then I wouldn't have been able to write this awesome blog about you and speak about the tragedy of humanity.

Corporate America at it's finest.

It amazes me how human beings speak to each other. Whatever happened to "treat others the way you want to be treated"? I guess that tired old saying went right out the window, huh?

Why am I ranting? Let me give you some insight as to what I go through every day.

I work in a shared office space environment. I answer the phones for about 40 companies, so yeah, it can get busy. Our building is secure, which means that you need a special key to get into the facility. This key will also let you into your personal office, (but only yours, of course, since each key is coded with your own private number). So basically, if you forget your key at home, your screwed.

This happens to people more than I care to talk about, so I'll just share one incident with you.
This morning Mr. Big Wig decided he was going to bring a different car to work, and his keys were on his other keychain. So he came to my desk and demanded, "I need another set of keys because I brought a different car and my keys are on my other keychain". I tried to explain to this gentleman that it will take 4-5 hours to make him another key (since we have to call someone to do it, we can't just do it ourselves), but that I would look around to see if I could find him a spare in the meantime. This, of course, is NOT good enough for Mr. Big Wig. He looks at me with disgust and says, "You can't just lock me out of my OFFICE!"

I would like to bring it to everyone's attention that I, in fact, did NOT lock Mr. Big Wig out of his office. He's the asshole that makes so much damn money that he can afford to drive a different car to work every day of the week if he wants to, which is a wonderful thing, good for him if he's in that position. But along with that position, you don't receive the authority to treat people below you with such disregard that it makes me physically ill. I did not forget your keys this morning, you did that all by yourself. Do you want me to call you each morning and say, "Good morning sweet pea, do you have your keys this morning? Do your socks match? Do you need me to come over and tie your shoes for you?"

Mr. Big Wig is only one of the people that I have the joy of seeing each day... like I said, 40 companies equals 40 Mr. Big Wigs, each thinking that their "emergency" is top priority. I get screamed at, shit on, and blamed for other people's mistakes daily. After hearing all of this, my friends and family often say, "So why are you still there?!?!?!"

Monetary compensation, my friends. They pay me well to get shit on everyday, and I'm part of a decent bonus program. Which makes me better than you. Shine my shoes, bitch!

Something borrowed, something blue.

That's right kiddies. I'm getting married.

As the fiance and I have been starting to plan our wedding, I've been doing some research on weddings and wedding traditions. And man, did I find some interesting ones. If anyone cares, read on.

Chinese tradition states that couples should marry on the half hour, when the hands of the clock are moving up toward the top of the clock, so you begin your new life together on the upswing.

In mexican tradition, the groom hands the bride 13 gold coins during the ceremony to represent his ability to support her. I don't know about you, but that doesn't seem like a whole lot to me....

Us german brides carry salt and bread on our wedding day to symbolize good luck and wealth. During the ceremony, when the couple is kneeling on the altar, the groom puts his knee on the bride's skirt hem to show that he'll "keep her in line". When they stand up, though, the bride will stomp on the grooms foot to show him who's boss.

As for you italians, after your wedding the locals will bring their cakes and baked goods into the street to your car as you drive past their houses on your way to the reception. Lucky bastards.
Greeks have so many traditions, there is not enough time for me to talk about all of them. A greek couple will wear crowns on their heads, symbolizing that the marriage is nobel, and the couple will now begin their dynasty together. They will exchange these crowns three times during the ceremony. They then walk around the altar table three times. They also exchange their wedding bands - you guessed it - three times. At the reception, you break dishes for good luck... and at the end of the reception, all guests must leave with a bag of almonds covered in chocolate, which sounds good, but each guest must leave with an odd number of candies. What is THAT about?

In the 18th and 19th centuries, the irish believed that if the sun shone on the bride it would bring good luck to the couple. On the morning of the wedding, it was also good luck to see three magpies, and to hear a cuckoo bird. Does that mean all the irish brides ran around on the morning of their wedding trying to find three damn magpies and an annoying bird? Well whether they find them or not, irish men were known for having cold feet on their wedding day. Once the bride and groom were in the church, the guests would lock the door to keep the groom inside so he couldn't run away. Promising start to a marriage.

I'm marrying into polish heritage, where instead of getting the usual rice thrown at you as you exit the church, you get oats and barley pelted at you. Good luck, I suppose. A popular polish tradition during the reception is the "unveiling". Guests link arms and form a circle around the bride, and her mother takes the bride's veil off (because she's coming into womanhood) and she'll place it on the head of the maid of honor, who will then waltz with the best man. The maid of honor then passes the veil to the next bridesmaid in line, who dances with the next groomsman, and so on. This is the bride's way of offering good fortune to her maids for when they eventually get hitched. Polish families also do something called the "dollar dance". Men and women form two lines and pay a dollar each to dance with the bride or groom, pinning the money to their clothes. Traditionally, it was a way to help the couple set up house and begin their life together. These days, it's used as honeymoon spending money.

And, of course, there's the old standard tradition, "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue". These are all good luck charms. Something old = continuity. Something new = optimism for the future. Something borrowed = borrowed happines. Something blue = purity, love, fidelity. Along with these things, the bride is to wear a sixpence in her shoe for good fortune.

One last thing I'd like to comment on, and then I swear I'm done. I've found that these pesky "evil spirits" are out to ruin your special day, one way or another. The white aisle runner used in church ceremonies is to ward off evil spirits who might be lurking in the ground. Back in the day, brides were actually carried to their wedding, just to be extra careful. The same thing applies when leaving the ceremony. You know the cans that some people tie to the back of the newlyweds car? The noise they create frightens away evil spirits. But your work is still not done - you HAVE to be careful when entering your new home. Evil spirits actually hang out there at the threshold, waiting for you to walk through so they can jump into your feet and enter your body. Sounds a little kooky to me.

If you're still reading this blog, you get two thumbs up from me. You also get a whole bunch of knowledge that you probably didn't care too much about, unless you are getting married as well, and even then you probably didn't care.

To my friends who read this at work because they didn't have anything better to do, rock on.

P.S. Work Time Fun is awesome. The end.