My Skirt Fell Off In Parking Garage

* 5 years ago … It happened again. Different skirt, different lot. Meh!

As I was walking from my office to my car, my skirt hit the concrete.  I remained upright, standing there in front of God and everybody, in my top and underwear. I do not have a tan – on purpose, but I sure could have used one at that moment.  My legs look like abnormally long pieces of packaged chicken. Read: white.  Did have on nice underwear, but it just doesn’t compensate for the lack of skin color – in daylight.  Couldn’t grab the demon garment  because I was holding boards.  The wooden kind. Ignored the horrified screaming and running of garage mates and finally managed to pull that sucker up under my arms.  And took my boards to the post office to mail them.

Who mails boards? As in not- too- long- but- sorta- heavy boards?  Interior designers, that’s who.  I’m not a designer, I am the office ODDJOB.  Without the razor-brimmed hat.  My areas of expertise are research (“Here’s a picture of a painting.  We need to know who the artist is.  There is no information, no caption, no nothing, don’t even know when or where the picture of painting came from. Go!” I found artist and a silkscreen of painting to purchase in 30 minutes), food choices (“Everyone is dieting but I still think we should get a cake, should we get a cake?” Get the cake. Am genius), and mailing boards.

Had to stick my stomach out to keep skirt on in post office.  Happy foreign man says, “You want to mail boards?”.  I said indeed I did and the cost must be under $100.  He started laughing and speaking to himself in his native tongue. Am thinking that means cost will be well over the budget. Skirting the details,I return to office with humble, sad face.  Walked into designers bull pen, looking for my boss to tell her about expense.  That damn skirt went south again. My colleagues, all women, were nonplussed; they are used to my wardrobe malfunctions.  Paper-clipped skirt top to underwear and called it a day.

Did I mention I live in the city located just on the outskirts of  Hell?  Where it is 81-degrees at 7 a.m.? This morsel of info is only necessary because sweats are not clothing here, sweats are a perpetual state of the body.  Every body.  So skirt slippage was heat-related. As evening approaches, it is a brisk 80-degrees inside my house; the a/c is working its ass(?) off, making the same sounds that pierce the air when empty cans are put in dryer and dryer is turned on high. War zone ambience. Trying to relax and cool down.

Turn on the computer and get some news.  Apparently bird doo facials are all the rage in NYC; you, too, can have one for $180. So “Emperor’s New Clothes”, I can’t even wrap this.  My mind is grinding, so I’ll throw out an offer for bird poop facial aficionados …. you are most welcome to sit on my patio – all day long – for $10; you will be delighted by all the bird bombs that cover your entire self.  There is only one catch … bring earplugs… the a/c sound might disturb your bliss.  Come early and stay late.

Don’t even think I”m complaining, I’m not.  Based on what I read, hear, and see, I am beyond lucky.  If anyone needs a skirt fail, a scary loud a/c, a poop facial provided by numerous regional birds, and/or  boards mailings, you know where to look.

*P.S.  Always wear nice underwear, even if you aren’t riding in the car … you never know ….. just saying.

Later.  If I don’t melt…

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Use Your Words

That’s what I’m doing … using your words. Well, sharing your words. Loving:

“If life gives you lemons, keep them. Hey, free lemons!”

“I have a lot of growing up to do. I realized that the other day, in my fort.”

“Imperfection is beauty. Madness is genius. And it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”

“Time is precious. Waste it wisely.”

“Welcome to today. Another day. Another chance. Feel free to change.”

“Some people just need a high-five. In the face. With a chair.”

“If you can’t convince them, confuse them.”

“Today I will be happier than a bird with a french fry.”

“Work like a captain. Play like a pirate.”

Yo Ho Ho … off to walk the plank!

Later.

Bucket List Antithesis

There’s not a bucket big enough to hold all I want to do. But here are a few things I never want to do again:

  • Get stuck in small space with overserved man who has just inhaled a handful of chocolates: Don’t shake your head and wonder how this happened. It did. And the space was immediately filled with overwhelmingly heinous fumage. Would have fainted dead away, but space too small and I’m too polite (ha!). Had no choice but to stop, drop, and roll into a ditch. Still gagging.
  • Eat green peas and/or liver: More gagging. If I am on a desert island and all there is to eat are green peas and/or liver, I take this back. Note to self: no boat rides.
  • Register for “Do Not Call” lists: What a total waste of time. You crafty telemarketers and your “anonymous” and “private caller” handles! And for the managers of all “Do Not Call” lists, YOU’RE FIRED!
  • Reply to comment, “What country are you from because you don’t look like an American.”: Final answer: “I am a conehead. From France. Merde!
  • Work for people who are missing several teeth in the front of their mouths: If you have a “thriving” business, you can afford to go to the dentist and get some chompers. My experience with you tells me your business is anything but thriving because my paycheck bounced AND you don’t have a mirror. Basta!

Off to mind my own business.

What are your “never agains”?

Later.

Angry Birds, Royal Wedding, Ellen DeGeneres & Other Randamonium

Well, hello there! What’s on your mind today? Here’s what’s on what is left of mine:

  • Angry Birds: If you “know” me, you know birds like to use me as a restroom. But I’m not talking about those birds. Talking about all the Angry Bird games. They are making me crazy. I get the utmost satisfaction when I aim a bird, let it fly, and it decimates a bunch of green pigs. Especially when I give the dastardly pigs names, usually names of people I know. Am greatly stressed at the moment because there are just some levels I have yet to win. Games should be relaxing but this one is making me crazy crazier. Back off, PETA; these pigs are animated and I love animals. Except fake green pigs. Meh.

 

  • Royal Wedding: Unlike most of the population, I’m not pissed I didn’t get an invite. Although I should have. My relative was the Queen of England … for eight days. Have stayed at The Goring, where Kate and Co. will stay until the wedding. It’s quite a lovely hotel and conveniently located right around the corner from Buckingham Palace. The only odd thing about the place is that the bar includes a herd of sit- upons resembling stuffed sheep. Of course, there’s an explanation for this, but I didn’t read the book. Baaaaaaaa! The sheep seats, ha!  These two lovebirds are getting hitched as quickly as possible; weddings are not held in the Anglican/Episcopal Church during the Lenten Season. Usually. And one more thing … Ellen DeGeneres didn’t get an invite, either, and Kate‘s her cousin. Someone has forgotten her manners. Maybe that’s common among commoners.

 

  • Ellen DeGeneres: She is one of the funniest people I don’t know. And she is kind and generous. She helps people. I’m still hunting for a job. So, I decided to write Ellen, requesting her help in this area. DON’T LAUGH OR I WILL CUT YOU… out of my will.  Am well aware that she gets grillions of letters, requests, pleas and such. Am also aware that I am not her demographic target. Nevertheless, I press on. I do know, from prior work, there are people hired to specifically go through all the communication and cull, giving her what they deem a “possibility” for her show. So I included a note to the person reading my words – “*Pretend I am your mother*” Maybe a tiny guilt trip will get my words in front of Ellen. Am not asking for job on her show – just employment that pays $$ that pays the bills. Will keep you posted re: any communication from Ellen. I don’t tweet, but I can dance. So we shall see ……….

 

  • Be Specific: Need to be more specific with my personal prayer requests. Finding myself in the dating pool at this stage of the game – well, I’ve uttered the phrase, “God help me!” about a million times. Usually after a date. So praying for a nice man or gaggle of nice men to enter my space is most necessary. That has yet to happen … or maybe it has. I live with a male who loves me unconditionally, would protect me to the death, who thinks I’m the nuts and soup. He’s awesome. But he is my dog, Cooper. Methinks more specificity is in order … need to add “human” to the mix. Silly moi.

Okay, Happy Day to all.

Am off to eat my weight in chocolate bunnies.

Later!

Help Wanted: Need Advice AGAIN

Dear Smarter People Than Me (that would be a majority of the population on Wednesdays and Fridays):

I have a very small, very new candle company. The product rocks. The locals love. I do not sell to stores nor will I. Because the quality must be perfect for me to sell, the cost is higher than that of say, Glade.

I am prohibited from selling them on Etsy. While I select and purchase my fragrance oils, design and create all labels and marketing materials, I have a candlemaker. Which knocks me out of the homemade arena.

  I’ve bought good stuff on eBay. But the candle section leaves me stone cold. I’m not a “Grandma’s Teacup filled with wax” kind of show. So now I am wondering if I just do my own website. If that is the case, where, what, and how much?

Thank you, in advance, for your consideration and input.

Later,

izziedarling

*just kidding about the smarter days – throw all seven in there*

It’s Monday: Weekend Insanity Report & Advice Request

I just don’t know what to think. So I’ll just toss it all out there, as usual.

She’s A Bad Mama Jama

In my opinion. This morning, on Good Morning America, there was a story about little boys entering beauty pageants. Apparently, the toddler tiara set is now composed of 10% boy entrants. OK. But I was appalled when one of the boy pageant mothers said, “I can turn my little boys into girls. These are the girls I never had.” This is, to me, a prime example of why some women should never give birth.

Evening of Insanity

That would be last Saturday night. Am not being critical as I was right in the middle of the madness. Actually caused some of it. In my last post, I introduced the electronic yodeling pickle. I call him “Canute” as he is manufactured in Canada. I keep him by the phone; when telemarketers call, they are treated to a concert. I packed Canute along with some adult beverages before we headed out to a gathering Saturday night. Upon our arrival, I introduced the innocent but very talented pickle to other guests. Poor Canute. Before he even got one yodel out, his image was desecrated. “He looks like a green, bumpy d***0 <very personal people pleaser>. And given a new handle, The YoDo. Ridiculous. Improper. Obviously engaged in highly intellectual pursuits, Zorba and ParTay decided to use Canute for prank phone calls. Yes, these can still be done and yes, we stopped maturing at 13. I haven’t laughed that hard in about two weeks. Can’t repeat any more of conversations about Canute but you can be sure that the phrase, “in a pickle” was tossed about in a most unsavory fashion.

At the same event, The Prince asked me why I had so many “blog” comrades who are Brits, Aussies, and South Africans. Well, duh. First and foremost, they are brilliant. And write well. And are hilarious. Then I became thoughtful and realized yet another connection. I have Brit blood. I am obsessed with that medieval bad boy, Henry VIII. My ancestors include Lady Jane Grey, whose nine-day reign as Queen of England ended in yet another headless situation. Which could explain personal insanity, flightiness, and inability to focus on anything (including this topic) for more than two seconds. As well as unwanted comments about my behavior as that of “a chicken with its head cut off”. It is Queen Izzie, y’all. Which has nothing to do with original question.

Latest Search Engine Terms

The terms used to find me are just getting weirder.

  • Car fell off parking garage (obviously an insurance inquiry)
  • Skirt came off my head (not in the habit of wearing my skirt on my head but could happen under the right circumstances….)
  • Plastic panties (mind out of gutter, people)
  • Parking garage facial (hmmmm…no, too bizarre to consider)
  • Chief wiggle eye gluer (can’t fix this … try o-p-h-t-h-a-l-m-o-l-o-g-i-s-t)
  • My boss tucked my blouse in for me (tmi, ever heard of “sexual harassment suits”? Wear one.)

 Enough mischief for a Monday.  Which brings up another question. (Promise to take ADHD meds immediately after this). Ok, new business is a direct result of a blog friends’ suggestion. So, I need some more advice. Regarding marketing. For those late to party, I am selling candles. Great candles.  Am just rolling this out, am still in infancy stage, so my marketing plans has been to contact a few people a week. This has resulted in a nice start on my candle makers retirement fund. The introduction must be handled this way, so she and I can see just how much we can do. Now it is holiday season, people spend more money. Good time to bring out new but not accurate for ongoing sales prediction. My product is under market price. That’s my story and I’m bewildered where/what goes next. Any advice most appreciated.

Later. and merci…

Monday Madness

I’m drinking my coffee and reading the “news”. Ha! It may be early, but the weirdo stuff is already popping up. In our first category of the day – and considering it is Monday – we have work.

Creativity in the Workplace

In a story by Rachel Farrell on MSN.com, “unusual job titles” are revealed. Some of these include, but are not limited to, Chief Wiggle Eye Gluer, Overseer of Order, Director of Storytelling, and Head Worm Wrangler.  Others listed were Marble Lady, Chief Sparkle Officer,Chief Fun Officer, and my favorite, Director of Chaos. These are real titles at real companies. But I think a few of these could possibly be applied elsewhere as well.

  • Head Worm Wrangler:  Heads of Congress and Senate (duh);  Andy Cohen, Sr. VP of Production and Programming for Bravo, for risking his life to bring us the delightful “Real Housewives of….the Eleventeenth Circle of Hell“.
  • Overseer of Order:  Mothers everywhere (no currency distribution).
  • Director of Storytelling:  Press Secretaries, HR Employment Interviewers, anyone who says, “Let’s have lunch”.

Sparkle? Nah. And the idea of forced hijinks requiring a Chief of Fun at work sounds like a the perfect place for a Wiggle Eye Gluer. I am the Chief of Chaos in my own home and that doesn’t pay well.  I’ve decided the best job in the world would be to work with Peggy, on the hilariously genius Discover Card commercials created by  The Martin Agency.

Loyalty3.jpg

The other story that caught my eye – and blew my mind – was about an implant removal. A 28-year old woman with a pretty face recently had her size M chesticle implants removed. Yes, that would be a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,j,k,l, M! World’s largest. Excuse me, this just brings up sooooo many questions. How in the world would you a.) walk upright, b.) find something besides a bedouin tent for clothing, and c.) do that to yourself in the first place? Good grief, she’d have to go to a truck weigh station for a mammogram. But that won’t be necessary as she’s suffered from life threatening infection since her surgery in Brazil, requiring removal of implants and most of her breast tissue.

Must take a tonic and lay down. Overwhelmed by nonsense.

Later.