Putting out Fires

I got a phone call at my desk telling me that they had flowers for me in receiving, could they bring them out to me? Flowers? For me? Since my coworkers are joksters, I was convinced that they were playing a joke on me. Still, I waited staring at the door from the stairwell excited! Flowers! For me! My coworkers poked fun at me for being so excited. Waiting. Will there really be flowers?

I’ve never gotten flowers at work before. I take that back, Ryan did bring me a gorgeous potted plant as a surprise once (and I haven’t managed to kill it yet!), but that’s about it. I had a feeling they weren’t from Ryan. He’s sweet about a whole lot of everyday things, but not necessarily a flower type guy. My parents? No, they’re out of town. A stalker? Oh geesh, hope not.

So real, honest to goodness flowers came in through the door. They’re from my cousins in California! “Congrats on your great achievement of getting your masters. We are so proud of you. We love you!” I just about melted. I only see them once a year if we’re lucky, and there’s very little correspondence in between. They thought of me! And sent me flowers!

My coworkers, being engineers, are all men. They ranted about ‘women and flowers’ all the way to lunch. But see, what they don’t get is that its not the flowers. I could be, well.. anything. Its just the fact that someone out there was thinking about you and actually took the time to do something nice for YOU. How often do we think to do that for people?

I will say, my friend Kelli is really great at doing that. I think for every big (and sometimes even the small) thing that has happened to me, I get a great handmade card in the actual, physical mail. She even sent a card to Ryan for his firefighting graduation! Miss Rebbeca Louise is pretty good at this too. A card just because they’re happy for their friends’ happiness.

I need to be more like this. I should do nice, unexpected things for them more. I need to write to my grandma more often. I need to send cards that actually get to people on their birthdays. I need to take friends out to dinner if they’re just having a bad day.

Leslie and kids, I’m pretty sure you have no idea that this site exists, but thanks for making my week! I hope someday I’ll have the opportunity to do the same for you. On second thought, maybe I’ll do the same just because. LOVE YOU!

As I suspected, $500 was nothing more than a minor hassle to the Mercedes man.  He was parked in the fire lane again yesterday.  So I called the police.  Again.  Anyone want to take bets that he’s parked there again today?

Yesterday we were leaving the gym and we noticed a man in a full suit stepping out of his Mercedes and running into the tanning salon with tanning lotion in hand. Problem? He had parked his car in a fire lane! Ryan was so incensed that he called police non-emergency and the police department was more than happy to send someone out to give the nice rich man a big fat ticket.

On our way home Ryan told me that he thinks a fire lane ticket is something like $500. (Small price to pay considering the fact that if there was an actual fire, the fire department wouldn’t hesitate in ramming the cute little Mercedes with the fire engine) $500 seems like a lot of money to me. But would $500 be a good lesson to a man who obviously believed he should be afforded special privileges due to obvious wealth? Probably not. He would pay the $500 without flinching and maybe curse the police for wasting his precious tanning time.

So if I were to jump into politics, I think I might suggest a reform to the way fines are assessed for minor violations. I think we should come up with some sort of formula that takes into account the severity of the offense, the total holdings of the guilty party, and the annual earned income of the guilty party. I bet Mr. Mercedes would think twice and maybe park 15 feet to the West in an actual parking spot.

Alrighty, so here’s a party recap for those who missed out (sorry you couldn’t make it!):

1.  There was a rather large explosion in my backyard during the shin-dig

2.  Much arm and leg hair was lost in said explosion

3.  None of the firefighters in attendance reacted when poor Kurt got fried.  (poor Kurt!)

4.  Many people got pruney in the pool.  Kids got crazy with water guns.  Adults got crazy with water guns.  People fell off Shamu.  My jacuzzi is still fun when its cold. 

5.  Evidently I’m an alcoholic because about 90% of the presents I got were alcohol (as if I’m complaining!  Thanks for the 1800 Bec!)

6.  Firefighters show up an average of 4-5 hours after a party starts.  Which, of course, means they want to stay 4 hours after everyone else left.  Thanks for helping me with clean-up gentlemen!  Oh, I mean, thanks for not leaving and watching me as I cleaned up on my own.

7.  Drinking since 1pm + sunburn + not enough food = worst.headache.EVER

8.  Said headache can be cured with wine midday with the ladies the next day.  And more sunburn.

9.  My new graduation mp3 player KICKS ASS at DJing a party.

10. My friends are the best ever for helping me throw an awesome party.  Thanks for all the delicious food girls!

I’ve often thought about writing a post about gay marriage, but I really have felt that my writing is inadequate for describing all the reasons I’m disgusted by the current trend in the country.  Is there a harsher word than disgusted?  If there were, I’d use it. 

Instead, I encourage you to read this article.  Mr. Montini has it right. 

I wish I didn’t feel so like those of us who believe that all people should be afforded the same rights to marriage would be completely judged for simply expressing our opinion. 

Next thing you know they’ll tell us that women are once again not allowed to perform the same jobs as men in the military.  Oh wait…  Burka anyone?

Ryan and I go to the gym at least 4 days a week.  Sometimes together even.  :-)  I’ve often noticed that there are many different essential characters in every gym.  Let’s look at a few:

1.  The Muscle Guys:  these guys will only acknowledge each other in the gym.  You are only truly cool in the gym if you have biceps the size of bowling balls.  These are the guys who make grunting sounds which can be heard across the gym, and they try to be discrete about looking around to see who noticed how buff they are.  They will occasionally talk to the Boob Girls.

2.  The Wannabe Muscle Guys:  these guys actually physically puff out their chests in the same way we Ya-Yas (hi girls!) will be sucking in our stomachs this weekend at the swim party.   The Wannabe makes sure to hang in the general area of the Muscle Guy in the hopes that the Muscle will notice them and think they’re cool.  They’ll often ask Muscle to ’spot’ them, and then they will proceed to lift WAY too much weight, affording Muscle the opportunity to save him from certain strangulation by weight bar.

3.  Boob Girls.  These girls are VERY skinny with boobs that are about 4 times too large for their body.  They are not skinny from working out, mind you, because all these girls do is wear revealing clothing and flit around the gym talking to the Muscles.  Occasionally they will get on a cross trainer, but it will be set on ‘2′ and they will be going very slow with exaggerated up and down movements in order to, um, show off their assets. 

4.  Muscles Girls.  I choose not to think to much on this as its just scary.  They’re scary.  I’m scared. 

My favorite gym person: the guy who refuses to use the lower drinking fountain, even if its open.  He’ll instead form a line behind the guy at the tall fountain.  In fact, we’ve noticed this is EVERY guy.  What is that?  Are they less manly if they stoop for the shorter fountain?

Now I don’t fit into any of these categories.  I’m the girl in the baggy t-shirt actually sweating on the cardio equipment before slinking off into a corner of the weight room to do my routine, then I get out.  No chatting, no getting a spot from anyone, no sharing tips on good exercises. 

But no matter who you are at the gym, I’ve noticed that people unabashedly check each other out. It is almost a requirement at most gyms.  And it is just fine for a guy to make a comment to a female about thus and such tone body part.  Or a girl to comment on how another girl’s butt looks smaller.  Accepted. 

Oh, and by the way, if you didn’t already know, party at my place at
4:30 on Saturday.  Whether you hit the gym or not, bring your suit.  I’ll give you a shot and a beer, and you won’t care about how you look in it. 

Ryan has already done about 5 brush fires already this season, and he hasn’t even been involved in any of the really big ones you usually see on the news.  We can see the smoke clearly from the valley, we see it on TV, we know they happen.

But STILL I saw someone throw a LIT CIGARETTE out their car window today.  And out where I live, it is almost all dry, dry desert waiting to go up in flames.  Don’t you wonder how people can just totally ignore the possible ramifications of this stupidity?

Well, you know of course that I immediately called the Litterbug Hotline when I saw this asshole throw his butt out the window, only to find that they have discontinued the Litterbug Hotline! 

So I turn to the bloggersphere.  I urge anyone driving in the East Valley to carry in their car either rotten eges, bologna, or strawberry milkshakes in case they see the Astro Van with the license plate “FSHMAN”.  Throw at will! 

Ryan and I tend to be pretty picky about the food we are served in restaurants.  To be more exact, we’re picky about our restaurants in general.  And really, why shouldn’t you be?  A night out at a nice restaurant can cost an arm and a leg, so why shouldn’t you expect greatness? 

We were so excited when we saw that an actual wine bar and bistro was going up near our house.  (which is relative because really NOTHING is necessarily ‘near’ our house)  For our private graduation celebration, Ryan planned a date to the new place.  Even while keeping an open mind because the restaurant is new, I was pretty disappointed with my food.  The bruschetta we ordered was DROWING in balsamic vinagrette.  When my panini came for the entree the chicken was disappointingly so charbroiled that it completely overcame the yummy dill spread that accompanied it.  On the side I ordered fresh fruit and was disappointing when the pineapples were not only hard, but completely tasteless.

Anyone who knows me knows that I have a problem keeping my mouth zipped. And really they GAVE me a comment card, so how could I not give them some friendly suggestions?  You know… purely to help them out in their new venture.

I know, I’m a food snob.  I was very fair in my comments, and not at all judgemental, but I still felt a little guilty after we left.  But just now I opened my email and there was one with the subject line “Bruschetta”.  Intrigued, I opened it and this is what it said:

“Thank you very much for your insight on the balsamic with the traditional
bruschetta.  I noticed the same thing just yesterday morning and harped on
the kitchen to fix it.  At least now they know someone else out there sees
the same.  AND  your exactly right on the pineapple.  I don’t think we can
get a decent pineapple at the perfect ripeness so we plan on pulling it off
and replacing with something else.

Thanks again for the comments and I hope we meet ALL of your expectations
next time in.”

Now THIS is a restaurant that I will be visiting again.  (D’Vine Wine Bar and Bistro on Power and McDowell in Mesa.  Plug.  Plug.)

My prayers have been answered!  Free Frosties this weekend!!  And if you know me, you know that if there’s free food…. I’M THERE!

 

This Saturday I will be graduating from Arizona State University with my Masters in Business Administration. All that stands between me and that hood they throw around your neck is a class tonight, and one on Wednesday. I’ve been sitting here at my desk trying to asses how I feel about finally being done. A little sad to not be on a college campus? A little sad that I may not see very many of those people again? A little sad that I’ll have to entertain myself in the evenings?

HELL NO! I am so ready to be out of that place. I showed up, I learned, I passed. But before Saturday, I wanted to reflect a little on what I learned during my time in the MBA program.

1) Workplace conflicts can be solved with a good team building game involving legos and a time limit.

2) I will always, always hire an accountant. They earn every cent I pay them.

3) Even grown adults think that copying verbatim from the Internet is not cheating.

4) If you want a healthy work ‘culture’ all you need to do is supply free M&Ms and Mountain Dew.

5) Group work sucks ass.

6) Driving home at 10:30 at night you get to see drunks walking and driving on the freeways. Sometimes in the wrong direction.

7) Graduate students with fulltime jobs are still capable of drinking until midnight and showing up at work at 7am.

Graduate-level text books do not sell well on EBay. Or at Bookman’s. Or at garage sales. And forget about Big Brothers/Big Sisters, they don’t even want them for free.

9) When doing business in most Middle Eastern countries, never EVER cross your leg so that they can see the bottom of your shoe, and never joke about the royal family when doing business in England. (I’ll have to remember that in 3 weeks when I’m banished there for at least a month. Prepare yourself for those whiny blog posts now.)

10) You can always keep yourself awake while driving by eating a burrito from Taco Bell and singing country music at the top of your lungs (don’t tell Ryan that I do either!).

I have learned a lot in the past few years, but I’m really looking forward to seeing my husband, reading tons of books, and catching up on all of my TV shows. Freedom!