Monday, March 30, 2009

The end.

I have an incredibly hard time focusing on the last few sentences of any article. I assume that, similar to the conclusions I write, those last few sentences are pure fluff. A recap. Less important than the rest of the article.

I wonder sometimes, what I may be missing.

Playing House


There are days when I feel really grown up, and days when I still feel like a teenager playing house. I’ve been oscillating between the two for the last week or so, because I’ve been doing some very grown up things with Greg.

Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. Not those kinds of things.

Last week, we were pre-approved for a home loan. And over the weekend, we got a realtor, started looking at online tours of houses and set up a real-life tour of our favorites.

Part of me is so excited for this next step, and part of me is terribly worried. Right now we’re debt free. No loans, no cars to pay off, no credit cards to pay off… It’s a relatively easy life. And we’re about to put ourselves into the biggest debt we’ll have of our life.

But, to be able to say that we own our own house, that we’re not being supported by family in any way, that we’re 100% on our own…

It’ll be a really good feeling.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Words, words, words

Stuff like this really bothers me:

bi-week-ly [bahy-week-lee]:

1. every two weeks.
2. twice a week.


WTF? I went to YOU Dictionary.com, to clear up the mess of biweekly. And you know what? You were no help at all. And Mirriam-Webster? I expected more from you. For shame.

I propose that biweekly have only one meaning going forward. It shall now be the equivalent of any good four-letter word. For example: "I hate this biweekly report!" or "I want to go biweekly, if you know what I mean, honey. Meow."

New Banner

P.S. Did I ever mention that my wonderful husband made my new banner? Isn't it lovely?

Pop quiz, hotshot.

Situation:
You're chit-chatting with someone about your garden. One pesky corner of your yard refuses to allow growth of anything, and every bush you've planted there keeps dying. So, you're talking to a person at work you know is botanically inclined. Then, someone approaches you, with papers in hand, waiting politely for you to wrap up your conversation.

Do you:
A. Continue to chat casually about your faulty root systems, ignoring the person who clearly has work-related business to talk to you about?
B. Acknowledge the person waiting for you, and try to wrap up the conversation without being rude to the person you were speaking to?
C. Cut off the conversation immediately and get back to work without a polite word to anyone?

Monica Gellar chooses A. Just FYI.

True Confessions

I have a confession: I am often more interested in celebrities’ lives than I am with my own.

I’m a proud, literature-reading, politics-discussing, deep-thinking human being. But some days? I could zone out and read Perez Hilton for hours. I always grab the US magazine or Star while I’m waiting in line at the grocery store and try to devour every picture I can of celebrities doing normal things. I pore over People.com, looking at picture after picture of celebs carrying bags artfully styled to look old. Bags that I couldn’t afford on six months of my salary. Bags that cost 10 times the amount of my first car.

When I can’t think of how to style my hair, or what shoes to wear with an outfit, I fall back on celebrities for advice. I look at my favorite stylish celebrities – the ones who want look like they’re not really trying, but clearly are – and try to mirror those looks. I go shopping in my own closet and pretend I’m Natalie Portman or Michelle Williams. But I am not. I am five inches taller and weigh at least 80 pounds more than either of them.

This was one of the most surprising things Greg discovered about me as we got to know one another. I love literary criticism, and I like to write, I like to listen to classical music when I'm working, and I sit in coffee shops and sip lattes and discuss deep, meaningful things. And suddenly, in the middle of everything, I’ll stop and spout off a fact about Trent Reznor composing a song for the Breakfast Club, which was passed over for “Don’t You (Forget About Me)”, a song which was rejected by Billy Idol, but ultimately became the biggest hit Simple Minds ever had. Or I can explain to you how Britney’s conservatorship works, in 100 words or less.

I can’t remember my bank account number. I have no idea where my 2006 taxes are. But if you want to hear direct quotes from Friends, want to know what Eva Longoria wore to the Oscars, or need to know the name of the artist of just about any top 40 pop song from 1985 and beyond, I’ve got it covered. I’m a pop culture queen.

Andy Warhol has nothing on me.

(This weekend I promise some pictures. They are beyond overdue.)

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

Pinching Pennies

When I was 19, I made the decision to live with a boyfriend. It was both good and bad. On the one hand, my parents made it clear that if that was my decision, my daily expenses were all my responsibility. Food, gas, rent, bills, etc. I was to be self-sufficient. (They still paid for my car insurance, cell phone and school, so they didn’t totally cut me off, but it was a pretty big change for a 19-year old.)

The reason this was good was because I had to learn to pay my bills. I had to learn to scrimp and save and find that extra twenty dollars and spend less than $40 a month on groceries for two people. And I did. And I made sure we were rarely late with rent. We paid our bills before we got the cut-off notice (but we often still got the cut-off notice). For six months, I kept us afloat on a full-time salary from Wal-Mart and a part-time salary at Hot Topic. It was hard, but I did it.

Since then, my skills at budgeting have gone all but dead. Greg and I are lucky enough to own our cars outright. We both have jobs that pay us pretty well for being just out of college. Our rent is actually savings, since we’re living in a house Greg’s father owns until we get our own place. We don’t have any school loans, credit card debt or other monthly expenditures that drag us down. Thus, we don’t do a lot of careful planning when we grocery shop. We buy Wii games on a whim. Hell, Greg bought a computer online the other day without so much as a batted eye. (He did think about it carefully, but the cost wasn’t an issue, is what I’m saying.)

I’ve always been a bit of a saver. I think carefully about things before I buy them. And my rule for anything over $50 is that I have to think about it for a while before I can go buy it. Like Wii Fit. I’ve wanted it since before Christmas. I kept wanting it. I knew I would use it. And I have. I don’t buy clothes unless the sales are fairly exciting. I only go looking for shoes when I find a real gap in my shoe collection. (And with more than 50 pairs of shoes, it’s hard to find justifiable gaps.)

But, as we move closer to buying a house, and I move toward a job in a library which will – almost certainly – pay less than my current job, it’s time to reawaken that Budgeting Betty inside of me.
Picture from here.

Really? I mean, really?

A company-wide email was sent out today (at least a couple thousand email boxes) with this subject:

"With Our Most Deepest Sympathy"

Is it wrong that this really bothers me? Forget that it's an email aout someone dying. There's just something wrong with the syntax there.

....

Sometimes, I think I should probably resort my priorities.

Pom-Pom Envy

Today, I want to be this woman:The shoes. The tights. That coat. Those gloves.

But mostly the shoes.

From the Sartorialist




Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Raindrops on... paperwork

Today it started raining. Inside the building.

Oh the joys of new construction.

(You know, besides the constant hammering, beeping, yelling and people swearing in four languages outside your window.)

Monday, March 23, 2009

Keeping the ADHD in check

Old Fart Update: He's doing much better. Greg and I went to visit him yesterday and - while he did get to go home - he was readmitted to the hospital. Confusion, fever and overall feebleness proved too much for my mother-in-law (who needs an appropriate bloggy name...). The good news is that when we went to visit, he was wide awake the entire time, watching the basketball game on TV, called Greg by his childhood nickname, and even made a few jokes. That man is rarely without a smile on his face, which is good to see. I'm not sure what the future holds, so we'll just have to wait it out and see what decisions are made.

School Update: It's getting to that point in the semester where I'm starting to panic just the slightest bit. I'm realizing how much I have yet to do, and how much focus I'm going to have to have soon. I've been slacking, now that the excitement of being newly enrolled has worn off. If someone could send some Adderal at this point, it might be helpful.

Desk Update: I've got my desk in place, and I'm trying to get the space decorated in such a way that I love it. As soon as I've got that accomplished, I'll get pictures up. Hopefully this week. It may take a year. Who knows?

Random Note: I sat in a meeting this morning in which the executives thoroughly discussed reimbursement rates, marketing strategies, and other hardcore business topics. In the midst of it, I suddenly realized that I never wanted to be one of those people discussing those things. I don't want to talk about conversion and reimbursement and commercial markets. I want to talk about how to dessiminate information to a neglected group of university students. I want to talk about how libraries function. I want to talk about books and journals and shelving and subverting university politics. When something makes you miss the politics of an academic institution, you know you're really in the wrong place... Remind me of that in ten years, will you?

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Flour Sacks and Spandex


I’m having one of those weeks.

One of those weeks where I’ll do anything not to do what I’m supposed to do.

One of those weeks where I stare blankly at walls, willing them to move.

One of those weeks where I criticize other people wildly, because at the very least it adds some spice to my day.

One of those weeks where I look in the closet and feel like it’s filled with only flour sacks or spandex – everything is too tight or makes me look frumpy.

One of those weeks where chocolate cake is all I want, all day every day.

One of those weeks where I failed a goal I set the day after I set it.

One of those weeks where I have a very lovey-dovey feeling about my husband.

One of those weeks where I have a decidedly UN-lovey-dovey feeling about my house.

One of those weeks where I can’t keep up with the mail.

One of those weeks where all I want to do is pour a big drink, put on cool clothes and sit on the porch with my dog, napping and reading in equal shifts.

It’s really one of THOSE weeks.
From ffffound.com. Of course.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

One-Minute Musing

Every morning the Bad News Bear goes into her office, sets down her bag and then immediately comes back out and exclaims – “It’s so HOT in there!” or “It’s FREEZING in my office!!” Every damn day. And every day, I want to ask her why she feels the need to announce it. It’s as if she suspects that we are changing the temperature in her office just to spite her. She gives us no credit. We are SO much more creative than that.

Some smiles

Some days, you need to find a reason to smile. Ffffound.com always gives me one.
Tiny. Soooo tiny.

Did anyone else watch this debate and notice that VP Biden seemed to really get a big kick out of how incredibly cute and unseasoned Sarah Palin was? He looked at her the way I looked at my puppy the first time she encountered a set of stairs -- "Aw, look, she has no idea what to do!"

I hope there's a movie featuring this soon.

Face chomp. Owned.

There is nothing better than a happy bunner galloping in green grass. Nothing.

Old Fart Update

So, it turns out it wasn’t a stroke (which is good), but instead may be dementia (which seems just as bad). A preliminary MRI showed a lot of degeneration in his brain, especially those parts that hold the personality.

The Old Fart is resting comfortably at the hospital, but he’s still very confused. He recognizes his family, but doesn’t understand where he is or what’s going on. His daughter (my mother in law) is there with him, making sure he’s taken care of. It’s such a hard situation. She lost her mother 5 years ago, and over the last couple of years, The Old Fart has slowly lost bit by bit of his ability to interact with his family.

I don’t know what to hope for now. I guess what I hope for is that the Old Fart will still be happy through all this. Dementia can cause aggression and anger, since it’s affecting the personality, but sometimes people remain complacent and calm. I just want him to be happy, drink his wine and feel good about his life, even if he’s not always sure exactly what’s going on. (That sounds like most of my weekends, coincidentally.)

Greg and I might visit him tonight, if he’s still in the hospital. Greg didn’t want to go yesterday – he has a pretty strong aversion to hospitals. And I don’t blame him one bit for it.

Monday, March 16, 2009

One-Minute Musing

A typical question from the Young Gun: “Is the input he gave you similar to what he shared with me last week?” The Young Gun often has the expectation that we stand outside his closed door, listening to his phone calls with a wire tap, so we can answer questions like this.

Sadly, we don’t.

A Small Request

My hubby’s grandfather, a sweet, kind man who everyone lovingly calls “Old Fart,” has had a stroke. He’s been pretty confused lately, and even wandered out of the house one night last fall and couldn’t remember where he was to find his way back. This isn't a huge surprise, but it is pretty scary, nonetheless.

He’s in the hospital today for testing, and I don’t know the seriousness of this yet, but if anyone reading has a direct line to God, put in a good word for the Old Fart. He’s a sweet guy who lives to go fishing in Padre Island each year, and loves nothing more than an afternoon of football games and a full glass of white wine.

Friday, March 13, 2009

One-Minute Musing

New pet peeve about Monica Gellar: she has no sense of humor. For instance, a sample exchange:
Setup: Monica’s desk is covered with stacks of paper everywhere, as she assembles notebooks for training that day.

Random passerby: Hey, Monica! Killing a few trees I see?
Monica: Yes, well, we have this class this afternoon, and Susie requested that I put together all these folders, and I know it’s a lot of paper, and I asked her if we could do some of it electronically, but she really wanted the hardcopies, and then she also wanted it not printed double-sided because of the way the numbers fall on the opposite page and the hole-punching, so it turns out I have to include about fifty pages of copying for every folder, which meant I had to use these bigger folders which cost more than the small folder, so it’s really a much bigger project than she had said it would be at the beginning.
Random passerby (who is now awkwardly standing near Monica Gellar, not sure how to respond to what was supposed to have been a passing joke): Yes, well… have a good day?
Monica (oblivious): You, too!

Thursday, March 12, 2009

One of THOSE Days

This morning I managed to:

A. Rip the extra stitch I put in the cuffed hem of my pants to keep me from catching my heel in the cuff, by catching my heel in the cuff. This resulted in me grabbing a needle and thread on the way out the door.

2. Have a really awkward moment with The Young Gun, when he came out of his office to see me with my foot on the desk, hemming my pants before my 9:00 meeting.

III. Forget my wedding ring, sending me back in from my already-started car in the driveway.

R. Forget my camera (to take pictures of Greg’s unveiling of a play area he built for the Tulsa airport, which is way cool), sending me back from halfway out of the neighborhood back to the house. Again.

42. Fill my coffee cup with cream and sugar only to find out there was no coffee in the coffee maker.

e. Make the coffee and subsequently spill hot water all over the counter when I took the filter out too soon.

(F7). Spill my entire cup of coffee all over my keyboard, digital frame, and phone, before my second sip. Miraculously, all the items still work.

Oh, and just to top things off, after a weekend of almost 80-degree temperatures, it’s snowing today. SNOWING. Everybody say it with me now: WTF?

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

One-Minute Musing

Rosie the Maid just came barreling through the office saying “Anyone got a TV back here?” She’s worked in this office for ten years. And for some reason she thinks a big screen TV might have just materialized in the middle of our very conservative, quiet office without her knowing.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Getting a Corner Office


Our house is somewhat small. Big enough for the two of us, physically, but somewhat small for our creative mental space.

I need a place to create. To be quiet. To feel inspired. Right now, I don’t have a place like that. Our office has gotten appropriated by my husband, which I completely understand. His work requires a large computer and a workspace. I feel more than happy to surrender our office to him so he can work on his art (shameless plug here for www.gregtatum.com), but it leaves me without a place to feel I can write and create. And study.

So, my current project has been to carve out a place that I can call my own in our house. A place where I can settle down and create. I can’t share a space with Greg because, well, if we’re in the room together, I won’t be able to concentrate like I want to. I need my own space. And a wall where I can create an inspiration board, and keep a few books that bring good things out of me.

My first order of business was to find a desk, which I’ve found (picture above taken by the seller on Craigslist). It’s a child’s desk, I think, but big enough for me, and at just $30, I couldn't resist the solid wood construction. When I bought it, it was bright green with miniature baseball bat handles. Over the weekend, I sanded it down and primed it. I bought some lovely charcoal-colored paint and simple, silver handles to replace the old ones. Greg modified the desk a bit to allow for more laptop space, and by the end of the week, I hope to have the desk installed in our living room. I’ve found a corner with two windows (the light is lovely and bright there until the sun finally goes down). It overlooks the backyard, which allows me to sit and watch as my puppy traipses around the yard, sniffing and tasting everything.

I’ve been taking pictures as the project progresses. I hope to have the final coat of paint on the desk this evening, and install the desk before the end of the week. I’ll post the pictures as soon as I’ve got my “corner office” up and operational!

Are you drunk again? Or am I?

I got a phone call last night around 9:45, from an unknown number. I answered. The following conversation ensued.

Her: Icky?
Me: Hello?
Her: Icky?
Me (now thinking this is Greg’s younger sister, who is celebrating her 21st birthday in Vegas right now): Are you still drunk?
Her (in a suddenly very dignified voice that is obviously that of an older woman): I’m sorry, I must have called the wrong number.

I sort of feel bad that I accused a stranger of being drunk. Oops.

Monday, March 9, 2009

A Blogger's Dream


Arlynn over at Fleur-De-icious gave me an award!

Now I’m standing here with my shampoo bottle as a stand-in for my Pulitzer Prize, and I’m prepared for a little impromptu acceptance speech:

I couldn’t have done this without Monica Gellar (
this time, or this one), or Mary Tyler Moore, or The Young Gun (who has been instrumental in the myriad of stories I tell). My life is truly amazing, sometimes weird, and always unpredictable. But at least I can find the humor in it.

I couldn’t ever limit my love for blogs for just 10 (come on, people, I have over 40 on my blog roll as it is!), so I’ll cite just a few that I’m really loving right now, so you can go love them, too.

Tales from the Ground - Formerly “Tales from the Sky-Mom” a stewardess-turned-science teacher keeps me smiling with her children’s antics and her supermom style. And, well, now she’s one of my cousins, so I’m sort of forced into liking her, right?

Petunia Face - The writing on this blog makes me envious. If I could be Jill, I think I would. And considering her woeful joblessness and constant struggle with the world around her, she might find that odd. Still, to have her sense of humor, her incredible talent at writing, and a beautiful family would be a dream in so many ways.

Little Brown Pen - Living in Paris and working as a writer? Can I have her life, too? (Mind you, she writes marketing copy, but still…) Plus, her photographs of the city make me wish I were standing beside her while she took them, rather than half a world away, drooling on my keyboard and subsequently shorting out my laptop.

Regardez Moi
- Her updates have been few and far between lately, but her writing is so funny that on a good post, I turn red trying not to lose my shit at my desk. So do me a favor and let her know you want more. Because I do.

The Pioneer Woman – You probably know her already. She’s amazing. Not only does her site contain a blog (Confessions of a PW), blow-by-blow cooking help (The PW Cooks), gardening advice, home renovation, and so much more. She knows how great she is. Hell, she made it into Time’s Top 25 blogs! If that’s not having it made, I’m not sure what is.

I'll post more as the year goes by, I'm sure. I love to share the blogs I love with others. It's only fair that everyone gets a crack at them.

And thanks, Arlynn, for the wonderful pick-me-up for a very exhausted Monday!

Snooze button? What snooze button?


Am very tired today. Body is at work, but am sure mind is still in bed, cuddled in warm blankets. Body is very envious of mind. Tried to make coffee this morning with no water and no coffee grounds. Did not notice until husband pointed out the carafe full of water sitting in the turned-on coffee-maker. Am not sure how I thought that would work.

Thinking of napping on desk. Wake me up for lunch.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Serious Jones-ing

It looks like I'll finally be eligible for a phone upgrade in June (ahem, just before my birthday, ahem), and thanks to this article my professor posted on our class website, I'm becoming more and more attached to the idea of an iPhone.

I've never had a cool phone. I've always been the last one on the cool phone bus. And I still am. But I just can't hold out any longer. I'm already thinking of things I'll give up each month to offset the increase in our cell phone bill.

Cheaper birth control, here I come.

On Vacation in My Mind


(You'll have to forgive me. This post was written last week, but is just now being posted...)


Some days are worse than others at work. Yesterday was one of the not so good days. It was the one day each quarter that Richie Rich, our founder, and all of his minions descend upon the building and hold the entire executive team hostage for 6 hours under the guise of a “board meeting.”

Of course, I love Richie Rich. He’s a class act in a lot of ways, but in a lot of other ways, he’s demanding of his people. It’s the reason our company has grown so successfully over the years. I respect, admire, and ultimately fear him. After all, if he decided he didn’t like the way I did my job, one word from him and I’m fired. So, when he requests 4 double-shots of espresso and two cappuccinos from our cafeteria, four hours after they’ve shut down and cleaned the espresso machine, you make it happen. As quickly as possible. It’s nerve wracking. Like Top Chef, without any culinary expertise whatsoever.

So I spend my day expecting someone to come out of the meeting, requesting a three-ring circus to be rounded up and assembled in the front lobby. And I’d have to figure out how to do it. And probably clean up after the Elephants afterward. On the plus side, the day passes extremely quickly, and when I finally left last night at 6:10, I still felt like I had only just woken up. Maybe it’s because I was groggy and exhausted, but whatever.

As a result, I am wiped out today. I have no energy for anything, and so my mind is planning a vacation. In November, Greg and I will take a nice, week-long break from the world (I hope). I’ve been going back and forth on what we should do. First it was Disney, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that Disney will be a great vacation when we have kids, so we might as well do some of the vacations we want to do without kids while we can.

So I’ve been thinking about a cruise. I’ve never been on one, and it sounds kind of nice. Lounging by the pool, walking around the deck, not having to worry about carrying your purse everywhere you go…

This is the conundrum – we need a romantic vacation – a way to celebrate our first full year of marriage. We need one that won’t break the bank (which most of the vacations I want will certainly do that), and that will be somewhat reliable. I, personally, don’t want to have to do a whole lot of worrying and fussing, because I want to be on vacation when I’m on vacation. I plan for months so that the week of the vacation I can relax and enjoy myself.

I think the bottom line may be that I’ll have to wait until this summer to start planning, because I don’t know what my class schedule will look like. I don’t want to schedule a vacation that will end up running right over the top of a test or a big paper that’s due.

In the meantime, Greg and I are planning a few little vacations here and there. A long weekend for his birthday, driving through Oklahoma on Route 66. A weekend in Dallas, to go to IKEA and visit with some friends. Camping trips with my parents, and weekends at the lake with Greg’s parents.

I’m glad these are the problems I have…
Picture from here via ffffound.com

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Hop, Skip, and a Jump....or just send an email and forget it

Her desk is no more than 20 feet away. About 14 steps. Or 8 steps and a normal inside-voice. But rather than take those 8 steps to our desks and say things out loud, Monica Gellar prefers to send us this email:

I’m going to step out for a quick errand

Monica Gellar
Executive Assistant, Administration
The Company


...then proceeds to sneak around the back way, taking approximately 20 extra steps in order not to be seen as she was leaving. Her email hit our inboxes shortly thereafter. How weird and unneeded that whole charade was.

I had a passive aggresive moment the other day, when she emailed me to tell me, casually, that she got accepted to a program to get her bachelor's in nursing, with a June start. A normal person would have responded with a resounding congratulations. In fact, others have suggested we send flowers of congratulations. To a girl who already has a bachelor's in biology from a private university. Who is now going to a state university in one of those accelerated programs designed for college dropouts who realized a bachelor's degree in nursing would earn them more than a job at McDonalds.

What I really wanted to do was reply and say, "Yes, well, I started working on my master's degree five weeks ago. Whoop-dee-doo. Would you like a cookie?"

What I did was refuse to dignify her gloating with a response at all. That's my way of being adult and still finding a way to stick my tongue out at people I don't like.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Rosie the Robotic Maid


It’s time to add a new caricature to my growing list of work characters. (See Mary Tyler Moore, Monica Gellar, and Richie Rich for examples.) I shall call her Rosie the Robotic Maid. I call her this because, although I’d like to think she’s got a kind heart, she is mostly just in the way, doesn’t get it, and seems to have no grasp of subtlety, just as a robot would not. Oh, that and she’s a compulsive cleaner.

Case and point. This morning in the executive team’s lineup, The Young Gun opened a gift from some foundation, sent to our team. It was a lovely, handcrafted bowl, which will have absolutely zero use other than sitting on a table and looking like it needs dusting. Still, it was a nice gesture. The Young Gun placed the bowl on a table in the board room and left it there after the meeting.

Not five minutes after their meeting was adjourned, Rosie tried to bring the bowl to me. As a compulsive cleaner, she usually goes through the board room two or three times a day to straighten chairs, dust off the table, pick up miniscule, practically invisible crumbs from the floor and reset all the statues on the surrounding tables into perfect symmetry. Of course, as she did it this morning, the offending bowl messed up her arranging, and she immediately thought of me. I’m not sure why I’m the one who must answer these sorts of questions.

“Here, someone left this bowl in the board room. It’s real pretty, but we need to find out whose it is,” she tries to leave it at my desk, but I interject quickly.

“Actually it was a gift to the exec team, and I think the Young Gun wanted to leave it in there.”

“A… gift…?” These are the moments when I can see her inner circuitry start to smoke. Adding a new item to our collection? But, but, but, now she has to commit its precise location and orientation to her memory!

“Yes, and Steve unwrapped it and put it on the side table in there. I think that’s where he wanted to leave it for now.”

She kind of stared at the bowl for a minute, and I could tell this was just going to ruin her whole day. She will spend entire hours thinking about that bowl, and the fact that it doesn’t belong. She finally turned around and said, “Okay,” in this incredulous tone. Like I had just told her we were going to fill the bowl with condoms and pass it around to small children, and she was powerless to stop our dastardly plan. It was an interesting moment.

Her other quirks include following people around when they’re in the office kitchen to make sure they don’t make a mess, calling and leaving messages telling the precise time she called (“It’s…uh…Rosie and I’m calling…uh…at 7:42 a.m. on Friday, February 13…”) despite the fact that it shows us when she called on our phones, speaking up too much in meetings, and continuing to talk and interrupt people as they try to move on. A hypothetical example:

Meeting presenter (MP): So, does anyone have any ideas about how we can improve things?
Rosie (In a voice twenty decibles too loud for the room): Well, first of all, we should really give that information out in some other way. Like the Daily Newsletter.
MP: Good point. Other ideas?
Rosie: But I’m not the one putting that together anymore, so don’t send it to me.
MP: Jane, in the back?
Jane: I really think we should-
Rosie: And I’m so glad we have someone to really do those newsletters now.
Jane: Maybe if we go to-
Rosie: And she just does a FANTASTIC job of getting that information out to people.
Jane: If we go toward a more electronic-
Rosie: So don’t send it to me!! (Laughs at a joke that no one else gets. Various people cover eyes in embarrassment.)

Welcome, Rosie, to the very elite group of people at work who I really can’t stand to talk to. You’ve earned it!

Picture from here. Found via Ffffound.