Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Overheard in the Ladies Room

Visiting Lady #1: "Every time I turn around I have to pee."
Visiting Lady #2: [No doubt almost stunned into silence] "Um, maybe you should see a doctor."
Visiting Lady #1: "Yeah. Sometimes I feel like I have a prostrate."

And she really emphasized the "r" too. Even though, well, there's no "r" in prostate. And, well, women don't have a prostate. They don't have a prostrate either.

And these ladies are supposed to be professionals. It's like when people say they're going down to "The Wal-Mart." Sometimes I swear it's like I live in a trailer park.

A Do-Run-Run-Run A Do-Run-Run...Part 2

At lunch I went shopping at the department store beside my office and picked up a new pair of pantyhose. While trying to don said pantyhose in the office ladies room I realized a few things:
- the toilets in the office ladies room are not equiped with a lid
- trying to balance upright on one leg while trying to corral the other leg into constrictive pantyhose within a 2x2" space with an open toilet taunting you to fall into it, is not easy and will most likely lead to fits of uncontrolable laughter making toe-into-pantyhose entry an olympic sized challenge

- the color "nude" is misleading and can come off looking whiter than a cadaver, thereby making even a redhead's so-white-it's-transparent-skin appear even paler than usual
- wearing a beige skirt with chocolate brown boots on white legs looks colorful, which is not the same as professional

A Do-Run-Run-Run A Do-Run-Run-Run

I've officially been at work for all of 15 minutes. Not even long enough to drink half of the Starbucks coffee in my travel mug. But apparently long enough to get two large holes in my pantyhose.

I have no idea how it happened. I remember when my pantyhose used to rip for a reason [like when carrying a bushel of apples in a wooden basket, during an energetic make-out session, or trying to grab the last Donna Karen sweater at a Black Friday sale].

But for no life is becoming too ordinary.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Bringing Sexy Back

Tonight I was multitasking on my PC simultaneously writing a cover letter for a job opportunity closer to Paul and searching for a pair of sexy peep toes shoes.

One particular pair of shoes was being worn by a particularly leggy model. Which got me thinking about exotic dancers and how I really need to get practicing my Carmen Electra lap dance video for my romantic three-month-aversary weekend away with Paul. Which got me thinking I'm working out less since Paul and I started dating. Which got me thinking, I'm not feeling as sexy as I used to. And also that I need to pick up maple syrup at the grocery store because I'm down to the last drop. Yes, the inner-workings into the mind of a woman is both a weird and wonderful thing.

There's no question Paul thinks I'm sexy. All it takes is that "look" and his clothes seem to instantaneously drop to the floor. I'm sure it's all in my head. But I haven't felt this sexy-challenged since my pre-hair-gel days in junior high.

This calls for drastic action.

It's time to dust off my Billy Blanks Tae Bo [VHS] tapes. We're talking Billy Blanks in spandex. And leg warmers. Now that's hard core. If anyone can bring sexy back, it's Billy.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Top 10 Things to "Fix" This Week

Hello change! Meet Erika.

Sometimes things just seem to be going way too good. So good in fact you're wondering what could go wrong because things just seem a little too perfect.

Ok, so there's a few things I'd like to "fix". Things that aren't a big deal in the grand scheme of things. And by "grand scheme of things" I mean my life. Because after all, that's what I'm here to write about. And just as importantly that's what you're here to read about.

Top 10 Things To Fix This Week (in order from most "critical" to "meh")
1. Correct newly dyed hair color from don't-you-could-work-for-the-circus red to something less...freakish. Poopy brown perhaps.
2. New car smell of new car. I've tried a strawberry air fresher which somehow has made it worse because now my new car smells like a new car with a half-strawberry half-nail polish remover sort-of smell.
3. My resume. Trans-provincial love is proving most challenging and I've agreed to begin job searching in Paul's metropolitan sphere.
4. My bank account. I haven't seen that many negative signs since grade one math class.
5. My front step. It's off balance and sinking like the Titanic. Except my step is made of wood. And come to think of it, my step is sinking into the muddy ground in front of my house and not the freezing Atlantic ocean. And no one will die. Although I could lose my balance and tear another perfectly good pair of panty hose. How many innocent pairs of panty hose have to be sacrificed?

Ok, I know that's only 5. But what can I say, if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Q and A with Paul

I thought it would be fun to "interview" Paul with some Q and A about yours truly for a blog post (oh hindsight you are sooooo 20/20). Lines that appear within this [ and ] are my inner thoughts to Paul's answers and were in no way uttered aloud during this Q and A exercise.

Via phone...

Me: What shoes was I wearing on our first date?
Paul: The black high heeled ones. I had to carry you up the hill pretending I wasn’t out of breath. It gave me a chance to check out your butt!
Me: [gives a "look" and then remembers we're chatting over the phone and "looks" don't work over the phone].

Me: What surprised you the most about me?
Paul: Your dirty mind.

Me: What’s your favorite Erika-undies?
Paul: The ones on the side of the bed.
Me: Wa-wa-waaaaa
Paul: The purple with black flowers or leaves or something that you bought at LaSenza.
Me: [Hmmm...quite the "safe answer" because he's just described about 5 pairs I have].

Me: Most awkward date moment?
Paul: Meeting your parents while sick.

Me: What Erika-ism-esque phrase do I say the most?
Paul: [laughs] [whistles] [laughs more] [coughs] I plead the 5th.

Me: When I say I'm doing "self-maintenance" what do you think that means?
Paul: [laughs] Plucking your eyebrow.
Me: Eyebrow!
Paul: Eyebrows. Eyebrows! Except you don't have any. Probably your nails. And probably some things I shouldn't know about because you're always so mysterious about self-maintenance.

Me: How many times have I beaten your ass at Scrabble?
Paul: Crap. I don’t know...25-30% of the time.
Me: ['s way higher but I'll stay quiet to preserve your manhood/ego].

Me: What do you really think about my blog?
Paul: I’ve never really read it.
Me: [This is actually untrue. I have "allowed" Paul to read a few select posts. Very select as you can imagine].

Me: Name a crazy thing you’ve done for my love?
Paul: Called you from Europe on a cell phone. Spent 7 hours looking for the perfect present for you in Italy. Drove an hour and a half home in the pouring rain after our first date and called you at 3:30 in the morning to say I arrived home ok and had an amazing time.
Me: [Good answer].

Me: Name 3 things you wish I had in my kitchen?
Paul: A good set of knives, a good sized cutting board.
Me [Interrupting]: I just got a new cutting board.
Paul: Yes, you got a bit bigger cutting board. I mean an even bigger cutting board. And a good set of pots.
Me: I have a set of pots.
Paul: Yes, but I mean a good set. Yours are thin and things are always burning to the bottom.

Me: Moving on. Describe my decorating style?
Paul: Bright.
Me: What?
Paul: [mumbles and stammers and tries to explain what he meant]

Me: Do I make a good cup of coffee?
Paul: It's a little weak. But it's ok.
Me: I thought that's how you liked it?
Paul: No. I like strong coffee.

Me: We haven't had our first fight yet. What do you think it will be about?
Paul: Your jealousy.
Me: What? [Just because I'm annoyed that Paul's still friends with a crazy ex-girlfriend who calls him all hours with her drama is not the same thing as being jealous].

And then we preceded to get in our first fight. Irony, how you bitch-slap thee.

So Saucy

This week I traveled to the "big city" for training. This also happens to be the city where Paul lives. You know, purely coincidental.

We went out to eat at my favorite Chinese restaurant. I ordered my usual Combo A - chicken fried rice, egg roll and the piece de la resistance...sweet n' sour chicken balls (I also take pride that I've converted Paul into a Combo A devotee).

For the second time in two months my chicken balls were not smothered in sweet n' sour sauce. I like 'em if the balls were the Titanic and the sauce was the get where I'm going with this bad parallel? Good.

I looked at Paul and said in my best deadpan, "Honey, my balls are dry. I can't have dry balls. I like saucy balls."

After he finished laughing, Paul motioned for the waiter to come over. I was quickly trying to decide how to careful word my request. But perhaps I didn't have enough time.

Me: "Can I have some more sauce please, my balls are dry."

Our waiter got a nice tip.

Thursday, November 08, 2007

You Give Me Fever

Picture it....

Afternoon staff meeting. Setting, interior office. Coffee and birthday cake have just been served.

While staffers are enjoying said cake, Boss (with a capital B) begins telling employees about month long bout with illness, including such side effects as month long vomitting and month long diarrhea.
Wait a minute...this isn't on the agenda. It turns out Boss has been infected with Giardia (aka water born parasite) and is currently taking antibiotics.

Innocent Staffer: "Oooo - You got the Beaver Fever?"
30+ people all picturing the same thing followed by much much laughter.
Same Innocent Staffer: "My sister had that."
Again, 30+ people picturing the same thing followed by much much laughter.

Weird but True: Giardia is known as the "Beaver Fever" but not for the naughty reasons you or I think (ok, mostly me). Somehow I was picturing a sex-hungry animal.
Weird but True: It is recommended that when camping do not relieve yourself within 100 feet of a water source, wash your hands after touching animals, and avoid contact with feces during sexual activity.
Weird but True: I managed to eat my entire piece of cake
despite obvious TMI.