Ξ February 18th, 2009 | → 13 Comments | ∇ me |
I love this town. Everyone knows that I bleed the Three Rivers. Or Black & Gold. When someone asks why black & gold, I am quick to inform them that Pittsburgh is the only city where every professional sports team wears the same colors. It is not unusual to find me raving about the fact that our Carnegie museum not only has one of Monet’s Water Lillies and one of the last paintings Van Gogh did before he shot himself, but it also has actual dinosaur bones (in addition to plaster casts like most museums). If we are driving around dahntahn you will be shown buildings made of glass (home of Pittsburgh Plate Glass, aka PPG), a building made of steel (home of U. S. Steel) and a building made of aluminum (former headquarters of the Aluminum Company of America, aka ALCOA). You would also hear about some of the many movies filmed here and probably find out that in the Gadget movie that Mathew Broderick did, the bad guy fell from the tallest of PPG’s all glass buildings (although tonight my guests heard about the ice skating rink that shows up in the center of PPG Place, a rink which I have heard is as big as the rink at Rockefeller Center, although I refuse to believe that NYC would have such a tiny rink). Every time I go kayaking I am sure to point out the house that was used in Silence of the Lambs (“It puts the lotion in the basket or else it gets the hose!”). Out of town guests are forced to go to Primanti Brothers for a sammich…the original hole in the wall down in the Strip, not one of their new restaurant locations. Old train stations that have been rehabilitated into fun destinations are pointed out. Our little Clipper Fleet is hard to miss as they cruise the three rivers, but I am always suggesting the old WWII duck boat tours because I have so much fun every time I do the tour. The church which was saved from demolition only to be converted to a microbrewery is even on my list of interesting experiences while in Pittsburgh. Of course I drag everyone up to Mt. Washington to look at the city at night because if it could make the top of a list of America’s most beautiful views, I’ll be damned if my guests miss it. Hell, for that matter I make them pay attention when we come through the Ft. Pitt Tunnel from the airport because there really aren’t other cities that have a window the way Pittsburgh does.
Damn, that was a runon paragraph. I really love this fucking town.
ANYhow, I was trying to say that I have two new coworkers in from out of town so I had the pleasure of showing them around a bit Tuesday evening after I grabbed them at the airport. They had so much fun that they asked me to take them out again on Wednesday after our long ass day of training. Should be fun!
P.S. Yes, I certainly could have added more links and more ‘yay, Pittsburgh’ stuff. Bite me!
MY dear Shiny one gave me an award.
Shiny is like my brother from another mother and I absolutely adore him. What he doesn’t know is that I truly would be there to help move a body if he needed me. The man is wonderful and it made my day to see that he bestowed this fine award upon me. Thanks, o Shiny one.
I forgot to post these last night…
Note the t-shirt the teenager is wearing.
I would call that a terrific Christmas gift, wouldn’t you?
Oh. And kitty dancing is fun. If you aren’t the kitty. 
P.S. You can’t drink all day if you don’t start in the morning. True story.
Hi.
I love my friends.
Even if they pass out too early while holding a drink.
Especially if they don’t notice when you take the alleged beverage.
But definitely if they go for towels for the hot tub and come back in mandals and goggles.
Because clearly happiness is beer goggles.
Hope your Valentine’s Day was as good or better than mine. xoxo
P.S. I dyed my hair. Couldn’t handle the blond. Looked too fake on me. Don’t ya think the above photos with me back to a redhead are better than this one of me with hair way too light?
A really good friend sent me the poster below. I thought it was funny. Although now I wonder if she thinks I am not happy…
This poster and more may be found here.
I normally get my Brazilian wax from a young woman at a local spa / salon. Considering what she is doing, it should be no surprise that we are rather open and frank in our discussions. Last time I was there she started laughing and had to show me the video her boss got for her. “The Manzilian.” We had a good laugh about her having lots of men waxing in the near future if the box started to aggressively market the BROzilian. Considering we are in Pittsburgh, we couldn’t really imagine hordes of men lining up for BALLzilians, but there was no way to tell since she didn’t want to advertise until she had some practice. Joking, she asked if I knew any men brave enough to let her smear hot wax on their balls and then rip the hair out.
Actually, I do! A quick text to Jim seemed to intrigue him. Several more text messages flew. Next thing I know he agreed.
AGREED!!
Unfortunately I don’t have photos of that adventure because it hasn’t yet happened. This Saturday morning I have to feed him tequila for breakfast and drive him to his appointment. My friends and I are being mature and not taking bets as to whether or not he goes through with the entire procedure. Well, trying to be mature about it. Sort of failing. Yeah, totally failing.
Sooooo, no HNT smooth ball photos. Instead, I have some other photos I took back around Halloween. Yep, flashing back to Halloween. Adam’s party in Orlando was off the charts fun. Just about everyone was in costume. My camera was ready for HNT worthy shots. Although it seemed that I kept trying to get everyone to take off their shoes instead of their pants. Apparently all I wanted to do was photograph feet for HNT. Yet I hate feet. WTF?
(Turn‘s mental patient foot)
(Sarah‘s fake blood covered foot) 
(Faiqa‘s princess foot)
See, I am always thinking of yinz. Even at parties full of bloggers. xoxo
To check out more HNT fun, go over to the comments at Osbasso’s place, where it all started.
Ξ February 11th, 2009 | → 12 Comments | ∇ work |
I want to be open to change at work, but I think that I am struggling. Seems I get a tad possessive. And frustrated. But I am working on it.
Guess I could write a whole bunch more on the subject, but I am kinda tired. Will have to circle back to discuss. Soon.
Until then, I want to share this photo that I love. It kind of fits seeing as how some days you are the hunter and some days you are the hunted. Check out the look on the face of the fish!
(Found it while mindlessly surfing the internet. Seems Stumble sent me a bunch of websites that they thought I might appreciate. Guess they were right! Sorry that I don’t know who to credit for the image.)
I love glasses. Probably because I don’t need them.
In Cinderella’s new glasses. 
In Cinderella’s glasses a few months ago.
In Cousin Sarah’s glasses this past Sunday. 
In Aunt Tinkle Tom’s glasses this past Sunday.
P.S. It is official. I cannot, simply cannot, do the Hilly pout. My smile is better than my pout. Why am I not surprised?
My plans for this weekend got all jacked up. The changes were out of my control so I had nothing to do except roll with it. And roll I did. (Where when I say “roll” I pretty much mean “party.”)
Saturday night friends had me over for a dinner party. I brought my own beer, figuring lots of cold Smithwick’s could drown my sorrows about staying in town. B brought Jack Daniel’s, which I managed to avoid. When our host brought out a bottle of Scottish Mead I only wanted a thimbleful…just a taste. It turned out to be the best mead I had ever consume so I extended my glass out for more. The two guys and I drank the entire bottle. Which left us wanting for more. And planning a trip to Canada.
See, we live in Pennsylvania where the Commonwealth is very strict about alcohol sales. It was only within the last few years that we became able to purchase beer and liquor on Sundays. Grocery and convenient stores are not permitted to sell any type of alcoholic beverage. We must go to a beer distributor for beer (by the case) or to a bar for a six pack. If we want a bottle of any type of wine or liquor we have to go to a special “Wine and Spirits” store. Yep, every one of them is called “Wine and Spirits.” State run stores aren’t every original, I suppose.
Regardless, here in PA we can’t have any type of alcoholic beverage shipped to us. Not via a private carrier like FedEx, not via the US postal service. Everything must go through a beer distributor or “State Store.” Guess who has state stores that don’t carry the nectar of the gods that I consumed Saturday night? Yep, PA. Seems Jim bought the bottle the last time he was up at Niagara Falls. That can only mean one thing.
Road! Trip!
Since we were a tad intoxicated and not up for a drive of over four plus hours, we decided two Saturdays from that party to drive up, grab as much mead as we can, then drive home. One day with a mission.
Anyone know our country’s laws regarding bringing booze back from the 51st State of Canadia? Can we bring four cases back or will they limit us to just a few bottles?
I have never understood why *I* have to do my own annual review (which is then reviewed by management and discussed with me). In my head, you are my boss so you should know how and what I am doing. Seemed like laziness on their part.
But a few weeks ago I realized what my true problem with doing my own annual review actually is. Seems I have to say nice things about me. Turns out as freely as I give praise, it is difficult to praise myself. Don’t get me wrong, I think I am pretty great and I love me and all, but trying to put it to paper for someone else is rough! It would be so much easier if I could just say, “Dude, I rock. Gimme a raise.”
Yet that is frowned upon. The review form has actual questions which ask probing things such as what my strengths are, what unique things I am bringing to the company, how I can improve, etc. Fuck. What means the most to my employer? In my mind, my loyalty (I have turned down some pretty damn exciting jobs over the last 10 years so stay with my company) should be a big deal, as should the fact that I am dedicated (and will do whatever it takes to make our company successful), but the first thing that pops into my head is the fact that I don’t have a college education (something that means something to some people).
I struggled for days. Agonized. Stared at the white spaces on the review form. Shoved it aside. Saved it for the last minute. And then still didn’t know what to say. What makes me a good employee?
At the last hour I wrote a bunch of nice things about me. It wasn’t easy, but I filled up those empty white spaces and had something to turn in.
This past Wednesday my new boss sat me down behind a closed door and gave me the review he had done for me. He has only been with the company less than six months. Don’t you know he found it very easy to say terrific things about me? Even told me how easy it was to do my review. Said so much nice stuff that I shifted in my seat and blushed a little. I was thrilled.
And baffled. Why is it so rough for me to hear great things about me? Constantly I don’t hold back praise of others. It is so easy for me to tell a friend how smart they are, how funny they are, how gorgeous their eyes are, how I appreciate their intelligence. Put me in a professional position and have someone say nice things about me? Can’t handle it.
I really must work on that. As confident as I am outside of the office, I need to carry it over into the professional setting. Sure, I think I am good at my job, but since it comes easily and naturally to me it isn’t difficult. Somehow I need to realize that I was born to be in a marketing position and that a job doesn’t need to be physical labor (where one can see the progress I have made) or sales (where it can be measured in actual profit to the company) to mean I have done it well.
Who needs a New Year for resolutions?
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