Penny Pinching for Puppies

Once during an interview a few months ago, someone asked me why I got up every morning to go to work.  I think during the time I was trying to convince him that I truly loved and felt fulfilled with my work and was now looking for a new growth opportunity when in fact I had just left and was actually suffering from serious corporate America PTSD and couldn’t have cared less if he hired me or not.

It was a really difficult question to answer – it was a difficult question to even lie about.  Why does anyone go to work other than to get paid?  If you were told you could be paid to lay on a beach with your dog and a plethora of great books and swarms of gorgeous tanned men who walk by in fifteen minute intervals to tell you how beautiful you look or offer to reapply your sunscreen, and take your margarita order, would you sit in an office or try to sweet talk someone into buying computer software?  I don’t think so…

Over time (the last 20 minutes) I have come up with the following list of answers, many of which wouldn’t be interview suitable:

  1. There is free food in the break room all the time and they don’t pay me enough to eat and I’m hungry a lot
  2. I’m having an affair with someone a couple of cubicals down from me and I love the game
  3. I am the boss and I love to watch people fear how much they love me
  4. My job is super easy and I like feeling smart
  5. No one pays attention to what I do while I’m there so I use the time to catch up on my shows
  6. I have rap battles with the guys in the mail room and I’m so close to winning one of them
  7. I can access my 401(k) in a short 11,315 days and I want to watch it grow until then
  8. I can’t stand being at home with my kids because they remind me too much of my significant other and I only married them because he/she was rich and I didn’t want to have to work
  9. I wouldn’t survive a day on the streets
  10. I don’t want to work but I’m saving up to buy drums that I can bang on all day

I think I used my Public Relations background to respond with words like “the rush” and “the thrill” to make my job sound incredible.  If he believed me I’m disappointed in him because on the inside I was counting down the days until I left on vacation.  But really, other than a pay check and the financial sustainability aspect of it all, why does anyone go to work?  You could have hobbies, you could volunteer, you could have kids to take care of, this isn’t to say anyone should just be sitting at home – you can be successful in other ways.  If you love your job, more power to you – I am beyond jealous.  But why do you love it?  It’s a deep question – why do you go out and do what you do all day long for the vast majority of your life.  If it’s more than that – I’d love to know.

My parents got me this, ironically right after I entered into retirement.  I love it. Mainly because now that I’m leaving for work at random hours and sometimes more than once a day, my dog is furious about it.  But I think it suits me!

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And otherwise neither of us are going to eat.  She is getting better and better at giving me disapproving looks. For example, the other day, when she tried to hide in the messiest part of my closet so I couldn’t find her and then stared at me like this…

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Next job requirements: Dog Friendly Office…

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So Much Sacred in the Month of June

I’m in a great mood this morning.  I don’t know exactly why.  Maybe it’s because my sweatshirt smells like sun screen.  Maybe it’s because of how precious my dog was as she tried to keep her eyes open when I took her out before work.  Maybe I’m delusional from only getting four hours of sleep?  Maybe it was the awesome girls training me last night who secretly tipped me, or the super sweet note the girl before me at the gym left.  Maybe it’s because my current responsibilities include wearing work out clothes and listening to Britney Spears Pandora. Maybe it’s because the Phillies beat the Yankees. Who knows?  But it’s nice to be happy about waking up in the morning.  Being happy is fantastic. IMG_5188 I love the month of June.  It’s officially summer.  Days are longer.  You wake up to sunshine.  When you walk out of a building at night time the breeze is warmer than the inside you just left.  It’s almost my birthday.  I love birthdays.  There are beer gardens galore.  People are out and about.  I can bring Darcy with me almost everywhere.  And I love being with Darcy.

FullSizeRender Even if something happens in the next hour and today goes horribly wrong, I’m feeling sentimental about this moment. I feel at peace with this moment. It’s a long lost feeling that we need to take a step back and recognize more often.

This is one of my favorite songs of all time.  I think it’s perfect for today.  Enjoy – I’ll be listening to it on repeat.

Shark Attack

A couple of years ago my maternal family was shocked to learn that DreamWorks would be making a movie about a big green ogre who shared their last name.  No one knew what an ogre was, at the time no one expected him to be remotely lovable, and it quickly became known that their last name meant “Fear” in German.

Thank goodness for the Irish.

I always thought this was funny because it really brought Shrek and me closer together and I could make fun of my cousins but I could hide behind my paternal last name and it was only something that people found out about me when I wanted to use it as a fun fact.

Karma has retaliated.

I would like to thank Eli Roth for taking on the project to make a movie about a shark named Meg.  I can’t even hide from this one once I’ve gotten married.  It was bad enough getting compared to the loser sister on Family Guy, but now I’m going to be a giant, prehistoric, man eating shark?  That just isn’t fair…

I learned of the project here: http://variety.com/2015/film/news/eli-roth-direct-giant-shark-thriller-meg-for-warner-bros-1201520955/

Get ready… I’m coming… Insert Jaws music here…

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Real World Blog Slacker

I have been the worst blogger on the planet over the course of the last week.  Being young and retired has rapidly changed in to not as young as I used to be, over tired, not even close to organized, moody, hungry, irrationally stressed, Darcy-neglecting, and somehow, still poor.  My third book (since my first is going to be a memoir based on my blog and my second is going to be about my dating life called Mercury Poisoning) is going to be a comparison of working the standard 9-5 job in the corporate world versus working odd jobs around town which take up all of your time, all of your energy, are fast paced and exciting but require there to be more than one in order to make ends meet.  (Fun fact – it was recently that I learned it isn’t ‘ends meat’ – like you would get the end of a cow or something… you’re welcome for that tid-bit.)

I’ve had my first taste of this other form of working for the last week, all of which came to fruition on Friday.  I sent Darcy to camp dog wonderland, also known as my parents house, for a couple of days while I tried to figure out how to manage my new schedule.  I feel the need to mention that so my massive PETA following doesn’t think she was caged up and unfed for three days since I spent about 2 full hours at home.

Back together and it feels so good!!!!

Back together and it feels so good!!!!

On Friday, I worked at my gym job from 5:30 AM until 2:30 PM.  Afterwards, I went home, changed, and decided I should walk to my restaurant job.  I left my house at 3:15 thinking I would get there early, and showed up at 3:52 for my 4:00 shift.  Google Maps said it would take me 23 minutes.  We also learned I’m the slowest walker along with worst blogger on the planet.

Everyone has been saying to me during this entire retirement period “just wait tables – you’ll make a ton of money.”  Just wait tables.  That statement seemed so easy.  Well, this is an apology to any waiter/tress out there who I have ever underestimated.  Waiting tables is difficult.  You have to constantly be watching your customers.  You always need to be moving around.  You have to remember ridiculous orders.  You have to recommend something to people who you know nothing about.  I’m usually that patron too, asking brilliant questions like “What should I get?” to a complete stranger who couldn’t care less what you eat.

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At first, I stood back and waited for direction.  I’ve since been told the other servers don’t have time to give you direction so keep doing what needs to be done.  I find myself so excited when I can answer a question that someone has that I forget what they ordered by the time I get back to the computer.  I messed up an order on Friday night – I put in the wrong type of chicken wings.  I was sent to the back to roll silverware and once the order was remedied the Chef yelled “Hey, New Girl – what table did you F*** up?!”  Talk about a change from the corporate world.  But  It was okay.  I did screw up and his response was scary and I’ll try not to screw up again.  My boss at my old job would have smack talked me to the rest of my team all the while making my life a living hell and never discussing what the real problem was.  So bring it, Scary Kitchen Guys.

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I used to be really good at rolling silverware when I worked in a restaurant in college.  Apparently that’s a skill that I’ve lost over time because someone told me I looked like I’ve never rolled a blunt before.  And much to his surprise, I said in fact sir, I have not.  Another person called me Fresh Meat all night.  Deep down I was slightly flattered, but then realized that wasn’t actually a compliment on my appearance when he would bark as I walked by.

It’s amazing the difference of environment when you aren’t being over shadowed by an HR department.

The gym is entirely different.  There are chipper women who show up before 6:00 AM every morning to get in their high cardio and sculpting classes before heading off to their day jobs or back home to nurse their babies.  The entire place is filled with enthusiasm and positive energy.  I even have the opportunity to work out with them now and then and the classes are up beat and encouraging.  They drink green smoothies and spend full pay checks on week long cleanses and clean eating.  No one is passive aggressive, no one is talking about you when you aren’t listening, no one is miserable.

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They’re both difficult jobs.  The gym because of the hours and the restaurant because of the tasks required.  Do I plan to be at either for a long period of time?  No – and maybe knowing it isn’t forever is what makes them so much more exciting.  But I’m meeting new people, they’re both fast paced and fun and it’s a nice breath of fresh air from sitting in a cubical and wishing the building would blow up to put me out of my misery.

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Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor

Thanks for writing that song for me, America. Retirement is getting exhausting. I decided the first part time job I had wasn’t enough so I picked up another. However, at this point I’m working every day and have still only seen one pay check. I don’t miss my old job at all. I don’t miss my commute. I don’t miss the crazies. I don’t miss the cubical. But I do miss having a normal schedule and regularly getting paid. It’s funny the things you take for granted. It seems so nice to be able to have all this time off now and then but when you don’t work 9-5 jobs you find yourself working at 5:30 in the morning or trying to get your shift covered on Saturday for a wedding. Someone asked me out on a date this weekend and I couldn’t tell you the next weekend I would be free for such an event. It isn’t bad- I’d rather be working than not working- but it is very different and something to get used to as we dive deeper into the Summer of Me. 
This is the only thing I’ve really been able to come up with for posts this week. I’ll think of more but my sleep patterns haven’t done any favors in exercising my brain. I guess I could have gotten pretty elaborate on how fantastic the Taylor Swift concert was or penned some precious story about my dog, but you’ve heard that all before. Basically this is how I have been feeling: 

 
Always leave it to Michael Scott to know the right thing to say! 

Magic, Madness, Heaven, Sin… An Ode to Taylor Swift

I’ve been procrastinating this blog post because it needs to be perfect.  If I’m going to write about the greatest country turned pop star of my generation, I need to get it right.  Taylor Swift is fantastic.  There may be haters, but I’m here to change your mind.  Let’s consider the reasons why:

1. She has the perfect answer for every state of mind. Literally everything.  Going through a breakup? Taylor will sing you to acceptance.  In an awful relationship?

Tay’s been there.  Lovin’ him was red – believe me, I know.  Do you love your friends?  Do they make you feel 22?  Are there nasty people that you have to encounter every day?  Let me tell you something – don’t you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine.  And all they’ll ever be is mean.

I listened to Shake It Off on repeat during commutes during my last month of work. Tay (and nightly bottles of wine) can get you through anything!

2. She cares about people: She’s like the queen of anti-bullying.  She’s mastered the art of staying grounded amongst fame and fortune.  She donates money to those who need it most.  She regularly visits sick kids.  She reaches out to bullied teens.  She understands who got her to where she is and believes in giving back.  Two years ago there was a huge thunderstorm during her show in Philadelphia.  I was one of the 50,000 sitting on the concourse waiting for the rain to pass.  She still performed and afterwards, although it was midnight, followed through with her visit to the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.  It didn’t matter if she was tired – sick kids were more important.

  3. Every song she’s ever written ever: There isn’t a bad one. She’s catchy.  She’s funny.  She’s relatable. She’s clean (literally and figuratively.)  Everything is appropriate – sometimes you wish she went into a little more detail but I guess we will just have to use our imagination about her current escapades with the dreamy Calvin Harris.

4. She’s entertaining: Whether mocking Harry Styles or picking on John Mayer or just dressing like a fantastic fashionista and putting on an incredible show – Taylor Swift is not a performance to miss.  There is dancing.  There are pyrotechnics.  There are special guests.  There are teenyboppers in adult bodies… It’s worth the price to go see her.  Thunderstorm or shine.

5. She loves her family. Tay is like obsessed with her mom and still does Easter Egg hunts with her brother. Further proving we would be best friends.

6. She’s from Pennsylvania. Really great people are from Pennsylvania.

I keep trying to re-write this so I don’t sound like the creepiest fan girl on the face of the earth, but I don’t even care.  I think she is wonderful and cannot wait to hang out with her tomorrow night.  Maybe she doesn’t know we’re going to be hanging out and maybe 49,999 other people will be joining us, but it’s going to be fantastic just the same. 

Not the Girl I Used to Be

I prided myself in college for my deep connection with my Irish roots and the way I could hold my alcohol. Whether or not I was fun to hang out with, I’ll let my college friends attest to, but I had no problem closing down a bar and waking up relatively hang-over free. I’m guessing they had a pretty good time too. 

  

   

I’ve often heard the age old saying “I’m no spring chicken” or “I just can’t party like I used to” and felt terrible for whomever made such an admittance. I would never be that person. At least not until I was gainfully employed with a dreamy doctor husband and perfect children and didn’t have time to over indulge in tequila shots because of my successful Doggie Daycare side business and fabulous dinner parties. 

And I was wrong.

I hate being wrong. Especially in situations like this. I didn’t open my eyes until noon yesterday because I said ‘yes’ to Fireball shots on Wednesday night. At one time- Fireball only whispered temptations in my ears and introduced me to one of my best friends, Digornio Rising Crust. Now, it comes through like a Mac truck and I’m the pavement. 

  

The only thing worse than a vicious hangover is checking your phone the next morning. When you’re in the early stages of dating is when it’s the worst. Incoherent text messages. Outgoing calls. Outgoing calls long enough to imply you left a voicemail. Ouch. You can only use the excuse ‘oh I meant to call (insert name that begins with the same initial- ideally another guy to make them jealous- even though they’re probably just freaked out- here) and must have hit the wrong name!’ So many times. 

 
Pictures can also be dangerous. Especially if you take photos with your girlfriends in the bathroom of the bar and your drunk eyes see the most gorgeous woman in the world so you decide you should send it to any and all potential suitors out there. Like the following. To my knowledge this wasn’t sent out, due to all of our lack of potential suitors- but I hate bathroom selfies in real life. I hate selfies in general. And taking a picture in the bathroom is just stupid. But apparently, my drunk alter ego deemed this the ideal way to celebrate a triple crown win- notice It was so exciting that I’m still holding soap- TAKE IT RIGHT NOW WE ARE EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL BEFORE WE WASH OUR HANDS!!   

I guess I’m just sad because I thought I would at least carry my strong tolerance through my 20s. And it isn’t going to happen. But maybe it’s for the best. I’ll cut back on drunk dials and silly selfies and harsh hangovers. I guess I’m just not the girl I used to be. I blame you entirely, Fireball.