Keeping It Classy

Snack Time Gone Wrong

After a string of meetings, all one can really ask for is something to re-energize you.  Most people go for coffee, but of course I, being the 5-year old child that will have a tantrum if I don't eat every 2 hours, high-tailed it to the kitchen to grab a delicious combination of snacks.  After a few minutes of noodling over my options, I decide on something salty, something gummy, and then a couple pieces of dried fruit to make me feel better about my other selections. 

Normal people would wait to get back to their desks to start snacking, but I dive in within seconds and continue my munchcapade all the way back to my desk.  Meanwhile, my IT guy has stopped by to fix my computer per my request.  As he's asking me questions attempting to help me, I continue stuff my face and even miss my mouth completely causing my something salty to go down my shirt.  Whooopsie!  And of course I have no other choice but to leave it there. 

After a quick fix to my computer, I start in on the something gummy.  Much to my dismay, these are the kind of gummies that like to glue themselves to your teeth until your next visit to the dentist.  After 5 minutes of trying to get them off of my teeth and giving myself TMJ, I finally decide that picking my teeth with my finger is the only solution. 

So basically this email is an apology to all that had to hear me chew for 10 minutes, endure me throwing food down my shirt, and witness me using my finger as floss.  Maybe I'll gain some manners over the long weekend.

 

Drill On Me, Hit On You

I've always found my dentist to be attractive.  In fact, that's why my former coworker referred me to him when I started working in the city six years ago.  He has these amazing blue eyes you immediately get lost in and forget that your mouth is being poked and prodded.  And to make dentist visits even more complicated, he and I grew up in the same town and have very similar interests like running away together...oops, I mean, traveling.

Every six months, I have the pleasure of staring into his eyes coupled with the difficulty of trying not to move my mouth while answering his questions and laughing at his jokes.  In my mind, I look just as good while trying to pull off this impossible feat as he does with his blue eyes and face mask.  

But of course, I knew nothing would ever come of my dentist crush since he undoubtedly had a girlfriend.  Plus he is not aware of my fascination, nor would he ever be because I'm a lady!  Well at least he wasn't until a recent visit....

After Hottie McDentist finished cleaning my teeth he mentioned an upcoming vacation he was taking.  I naturally asked if he was taking his finance.  He replies, "I'm not engaged!" with a shocked look on his face.  I gracefully apologized and asked, "Oh sorry, your girlfriend then?"  Nope, wrong!  Apparently he is single and says, "I work too hard and spend too much time at the office to meet women."  While this was an obvious plug for his practice and clearly the moment when I'm supposed to smile and shut up, for some reason I decide continue.  "Well, you can meet people here."  His reply, "No, no that would be inappropriate!"

I immediately realized the damage I had just done.  Not only did I just stick my foot in my mouth, but my dream dentist had just outright denied me after I unintentionally hit on him.  It was over for us.  There was no chance we would ever run away together and no way in hell I could continue this crush after being crushed.  The rest was a pure blackout.  I finally came to while riding ten floors down in the elevator of shame and immediately dialed 1-800-DENTIST.   

Dressing in the Dark Much?

So I know hot pants are apparently in style right now, which I completely disagree with.  They look good on about -2% of the population.  They are basically thicker underwear and since when were underwear okay to wear in public?  Didn't we all learn our lesson from the Seinfeld episode with the woman in the bra top?

There is only one possible scenario in which hot pants in public can be a good idea...when you choose them over wearing NO pants.  Why a young lady (if you can even call her that) walking in South of Market felt it was okay to wear only a button down shirt, a vest and ankle boots is beyond me.  Did she dress in the dark and forget her pants?  Is she in the midst of an extreme laundry day?  Is she dreaming that she went to work naked while sleep walking?

All of these questions running through my head come to a sudden halt when I notice this young "lady" look to her right to check herself out in the store window as she's passing by.  So now instead of questions, a million thoughts are running through my head.  Wow, you actually know you aren't wearing any pants.  Yes, we can all see the dimples in the sides of your legs which should be covered up by PANTS.  

So I've decided after work today I will be visiting the mall to buy that girl some hot pants. 

Bend and Stretch, Reach for the Sky...Why?

So don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of stretching at times.  I know its benefits and I fully admit I don't stretch as much as I should. 

But...

Why do people feel the need to stretch in PUBLIC?  It's weird.  And, I'm convinced I will never find it acceptable. 

I get that stretching after a long run is necessary in order to avoid sore muscles the next day.  I'm well aware that there are cultural practices such as Tai Chi which some enjoy doing outdoors for physical and mental health.  Okay fine...but other than that, stretching should be kept indoors.

I do not want to see the man with the cutoff shorts doing lunges on the side of the street on my way into the office.  I do not want to see the creepy double jointed guy doing strange movements out at union square during my bus transfer.  And most of all, I do not want to see the overweight woman is stretch pants touching her toes and then leaping into the air with her hands held up high. 

Talk about defining a new meaning for "get a room!"

Gooooood Morning

There's nothing like walking to work while trying to dodge the piles of puke on the sidewalk leftover from the night before.  Hmmm...guess it was a "happy" St. Patrick's Day after all. 

Only in San Francisco

There's nothing like going out to a nice dinner after an intense day at work.  When you arrive at the restaurant, everyone is so nice to you.  They walk you to your table, ask what they can get for you, refill your wine glass before you've had a chance to empty it, and bring you more bread without judgment when the first 4 pieces just weren't enough.

And just at the point after being ready but right before being annoyed, your food arrives.  It looks and smells delicious.  You start with your pork ragu pasta and enjoy a delicious bite of duck in between sips of wine.  And then, you gaze out the window to take in the good life only to see a man crouching between two cars with his hands up to his face hiding something.  

You question your judgment, quickly ask your friend to turnaround and verify.  Yes, it is true.  He is smoking from a crack pipe right in front of the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows.  

Then, of course, after the shock wears off and you've made peace with it, you leave the restaurant to hail a cab home only to run into the very same crackhead with his hooker girlfriend who compliments your Marc Jacobs handbag.  I know what she really meant to say was "I could buy a lot of crack if I pawned your handbag."

Stamped

There's nothing like a day at work when you feel "on." You check five things off of your never-ending To-Do list instead of one.  You solve a problem you've been agonizing over for weeks.  You have a great meeting with your boss.

That is, until during that great meeting you notice your boss looking down at your left hand.  Oh no!  A million questions run through your head in two seconds...#1. Am I talking with my hands too much?  #2. Is my chipped fingernail polish offensive?  #3. Did I accidentally elope in Vegas over the weekend?  #4. Did one of my fingers fall off?

Then, the inevitable happens. You look down at your hand.  And there it is.  That damn bar stamp from Saturday night that just won't come off no matter how hard you scrub or how many times you wash it.  What could be worse?  I mean, I think I would prefer if #4. was true instead. 

What Planet Are You From?

I often wonder where creepy people come from.  What's their purpose?  Why do they exist? 

Last night, as I left the office after a long day I walked happily to my car praising myself for driving to work, yet again, instead of taking the Muni.  I passed through the parking lot gates trying to remember where I parked that morning.  I spotted my car quickly - score! - and had my car keys in hand.  I noticed a man on the other side of the lot walking toward me.  I thought this was odd since I had entered through the only entrance of the parking lot, but assumed that maybe he wasn't as lucky as I was about remembering where he had parted with his car that morning.

As I unlocked my car and tossed my stuff into my backseat, I saw the man walk past my car.  I was blessed with amazing peripheral vision.  I got into the driver's seat and looked back to make sure the man had kept walking when I noticed he was standing at my passenger door, staring at me.  Immediately locking the door, i turned on my car and threw it in reverse.  I had every intention of running this creep-o over.  Only problem was, my car was completely fogged up from the cold weather and I couldn't see a thing except for his dark silhouette.  And let's be real, unless you're driving a brand new BMW, your defroster never works fast enough.

At this point, I didn't care what or who I hit as long as I got the hell out of there.  As I exited the parking lot, thanking my lucky stars that nothing actually happened to me except my elevated heart rate, I wondered what that crazy man was after.  My money?  My car?  My life?  Little did he know that he'd be disappointed with all 3 of those options. 

So Proud

I typically run with a pretty classy group of friends.  We know how to be respectful towards others in public.  We know which fork to use for each course of the meal.  We know when we've had too much to drink.  Basically, my friends are the types of friends that you can be proud you have in your life you enjoy spending a lot of time with.  

So you can only imagine the highlights of our day spent at the Cal football game this year.  We started off with a few beers at my friend’s house which quickly escalated into an afternoon dance party (obviously!).  The dance party continued in the cab on the way to BART and in the BART station while waiting for the train – the patrons and local homeless man staring in utter shock.  Cracking beers and loudly chatting on Bart seemed like the next logical step.  Like I said, we know how to be respectful towards others in public.  

Once we arrive in Berkeley, we immediately headed to Henry’s Bar and get in the beer line.  One friend naturally drinks straight out of the pitcher while the rest of us sip (who’s kidding…chug) our beers.  Someone mentions that their friend is tailgating and has free beers so we hightail to what we thought was a nearby parking lot.  40 minutes later we find ourselves with less than one beer a piece and his friends on their way to the game.  Buzz kill.  Thankfully, some older alumni invited us over to help them finish off their kegs and food.  Half our group has no problem inhaling the food in minutes; picking through it with their hands and shoveling it into their mouths.  As I mentioned, we know which fork to use for each course of the meal.   

We finally arrive at the game just before halftime.  We root for Cal as we’re nearing frostbite and celebrate with some classic jumping up and down when they win the game.  Leaving the game, we realize that we went a whole 2^nd half without any alcohol and decide we must immediately fix that problem.  Back to Henry’s Bar!!  We stock up on pitchers of beer and within 30 minutes a fight breaks out and one of my friends ends up getting caught in the middle and pouring her beer on a guy’s head.  She’s now escorted out of the bar, so we decide to call it an evening and head back to BART.  The walk to BART is interesting.  We’ve somehow created a new style of walking which combines Hulk Hogan + Spiderman + Richard Simmons.  A block away from BART, a bar was calling our names so we stopped in for yet another round of drinks.  I mean, why not?  We obviously know when we’ve had too much to drink, right?  

When I got home that night (errr…early the next morning), I thought to myself how lucky I was to have such a great group of friends.  Then woke up in the morning and couldn’t remember how I got home.