Happy Anniversary
Dear Current Job,

Well, I guess I can no longer call you 'New Job' since as of yesterday we had been together for a year. I must say, the year has flown by, so I just thought I would take this opportunity to thank you for keeping me around. With your kindness, I have been able to afford trips to LA, Las Vegas, Tennessee and Florida. I have also been able to afford numerous evenings out and about in the DC metropolitan area and for that I am quite grateful.

However, there are a few things that I think we need to discuss and I figured the one year mark is as good a time as any. In no particular order, please consider the following list of 'problem areas' that I think we could work on together:

The workload is starting to become highly unnecessary. I understand that we have to be productive, I'm just saying that I think there is a way to work it out so I don't have to be working on 37 things at once which are due immediately.

That brings me to my second point, this need for immediacy. I know, I know, we are a for profit within a non-profit and we need to make that revenue to pay for all the social projects; however, nothing we do is life or death, so why must you tell me that everything needs to be done ASAP. Can't we work on prioritizing a little more?

Third, bouncing off number 2 above, can we have a little more communication? Telling me parts 3 and 4 of a 6 part project does not help me understand what you are looking for from me. Help me help you by giving me the big picture.

Fourth, is it really necessary to have rotisserie chicken every Wednesday? I don't think that it is, but just a thought. Also? How many types of fish soups can you make? Not everyone likes fish, so can we cut back on that? And, it wouldn't hurt you to prepare fried okra a little more often.

Fifth, can you please talk to the higher ups and let them know that I would love to have more indians to help out on a day-to-day basis? I am a team player, I just need to know what game we are playing.

Sixth, can you talk to some of your other workers and get them to clean up after themselves in the bathroom? I know everyone is busy and all, but it is starting to get pretty nasty in there.

Lastly, and this one is personal. Can you please find out who took my green apple scented dishwashing soap? That wasn't very cool since I brought that in and now can't wash anything since we don't have community dish soap. I know I found the bottle a couple of months ago and was sure it was mine. I didn't take it back, though b/c on the off chance it wasn't, I didn't want someone hating me with the fire of a thousand suns like I did when someone took mine.

Ahem, anyway, I have enjoyed being with you for the past 12 months and hope to be around for a lot longer. Just thought we would use this time for some open and honest feedback.

Thanks,
Morgan

And now, without further ado...The Redneck Olympics
Which will by far not be nearly as entertaining b/c I put that thing up last week in hopes that I would get to update on vacation and piqued everyone's interest. So, for that, I am sorry, but there were some funny events that took place, so read on if you wish.

First, let me say that this 'Redneck Olympics' was the most yuppified one I have ever been to. (OK, it was the only one I have ever been to, but I feel certain if I attended others I would still feel the same way.) My sister and my brother-in-law went all out for this annual event. Many games were available for competition, such as cornhole/cornholio, (otherwise known as bean bag toss and apparently baggo) darts, horseshoes and seed spitting. There was also a lot of drinking, but you couldn't win any prizes for that, unfortunately.

I only competed in two events, horseshoes and darts. The most horrible of which was horseshoes. I say this because the night before the big showdown, I was practicing (read: learning to play) with my roommate Miss C. who had accompanied me down to Tennessee for this momentous occasion. It was not a pretty sight. At least from my perspective. Miss C picked it up fairly well. I, on the other hand, was having some problems. See, I couldn't seem to get the release right. I would either let go of the horseshoe way too early and it would pretty much fly straight in front of me for about 3 feet before it hit the ground and began rolling down the hill and I would have to chase it or my other favorite, when I would release the shoe too late and then it would fly straight up in the air before landing halfway between the horseshoe pits causing all bystanders and participants to run as if I were throwing live grenades. A pretty sad state of affairs by all accounts.

When we realized that we would not exactly be horseshoe champions, we headed out to the local country line dancing bar, because really, what would the Redneck Olympics be without a trip to a 'honky tonk' as my sister so wonderfully described it. (Also, that is the first time I have ever visited the website and I pretty much made my point right there.) I will say that whilst at the Joe, we were greeted with such line gems as 'You look like a sure thing' and 'Hot Damn!' Both of which were addressed to my fabulous companion, Miss C. There were also run-ins with the following: 'Married Retard' out trying to pick up other women with his wedding ring STILL ON and 'Dumb Wingman' who actually told me that Canada and the United States were on two different continents. Oh boy. And to think, I went through the same educational system as some of these boys. Wait...what does that say about me?

Ahem, so, if you didn't already realize, we did not find any handsome stud cowboys to go home with, so we went back to my sister's to prepare for the next day's events.

After being awoken very early (read: 9am, which I know, isn't that early) and heading out to purchase Father's Day presents, we returned to a happening shindig and many of the events were underway. After having a few beers, Miss C. and I decided to try our luck again at the horseshoe pit. And before you say anything, no, I did not injure anyone and like many drinking related sports, I actually improved with alcohol. Not only was I not missing the pit entirely, I was actually getting points. Real points! I was quite impressed with myself. However, the alcohol had helped Miss C. improve as well and she totally schooled me by hitting not one, but two ringers. Bitch.

Anyway, realizing that horseshoes were not my thing, I headed over to the darts where I was sure to get my ass kicked seeing as I was playing against two people that I would consider 'dart sharks' if one were to ask me. Not that anyone did. I'm just saying. I did end up getting schooled in darts as well by my sister's friend. So, with the day winding to a close and me winning only a bronze medal* in darts, Miss C. and I decided the only proper course of action would be to head back to the Joe. Where we still didn't meet anyone cool (except for the hot gay French guy--how did you make it to Knoxville exactly?) but had an awesome time dancing and making fools of ourselves. All in all a very good weekend road trip to my hometown.

However, the hungover trip back...that was another story and involved a horrible stop at the O'Charley's in Bristol, right off the interstate. Really barflies across the way? Do you think that there is some sort of soundproof barrier between us? Because there isn't. And also? Miss Bartender? I don't care how many ways you doctor up that Bloody Mary mix, but could you just shut the fuck up about it? Seriously. I am about to vomit in your restaurant. And, to the patrons in the women's bathroom? How hard is it to flush a toilet and not pee on the seat? Cause I'm thinking it isn't as hard as you made it seem. Dumbasses.

*There were actual medal ceremonies complete with a fabulous rendition of the National Anthem as sung by my awesome neice. And it was good y'all. Not the I'm related to her good, but really good! I swear. Medal winners received the following for each event and were presented the items while resting on red, white and blue podiums, the first place of which had a toilet seat placed on top of it (classy!).
Bronze: Medal, flowers, can of PBR
Silver: Medal, flowers, can of CL Silver Bullet
Gold: Medal, flowers, tall boy of the Champagne of Beers, Miller High Life.

Vacation
I'm going on one! Woo hoo. Which will hopefully allow me to update everyone on my trip to Tennessee last weekend for the Redneck Olympics. That's right. I said Redneck Olympics. See you soon!

The Joys of My Old Job
Bad accounting firm. BAD (must have access to NY Times)

Long Day
Yesterday was a very long day. Very, very long day.

Here were some of the thoughts that crossed my mind yesterday. In list form (all the cool kids are doing it.)

1. Do I have to get up?
2. Snooze.
3. Really, do I have to?
4. What am I going to wear?
5. Damn ironing.
6. Ugh what is that smell?
7. Man, it is hot out here.
8. Where is the bus?
9. There is no need to sit on my lap, sir.
10. I hate Excel.
11. I hate budgets.
12. Seriously, violently dislike budgets.
13. Also hate math.
14. ALOT.
15. Love free lunch!
16. Hate office whining.
17. Worth it for gourmet lunch.
18. Only one more day.
19. Does he like me?
20. My boss is nuts.
21. Still hate budgets.
22. And charts.
23. Love some co-workers.
24. And boss who is nuts.
25. Ugh, class.
26. 3 hours long.
27. About PUBLISHING...
28. Might shoot self in face.
29. Finally, a clock on the wall.
30. Still will get out late.
31. Need beer.
32. Lots of beer.
33. Still talking about publishing.
34. No one care's about your brother's cousin's daughter.
35. mmmm fritos are good.
36. Can they hear me crunching?
37. Still hot outside.
38. Still need beer.
39. everyone's dinner consists of vending machine fare
40. Chips winning 6 to 2
41. walk, walky, walk.
42. Yeah! Bar.
43. Yum! Beer.
44. Content
45. Going home.
46. Where is the bus?
47. No lap for you either!
48. Home sweet home.
49. Nothing to clean.
50. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Stressed
I am currently so stressed out and backwards right now that I don't know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt.

Doing too many things at once is not good for the stomach, well at least not for the ulcers. Perhaps it does act as a natural deterrent for food items, though.

In any case, working sucks. I really wish that I could find a sugar daddy to take all my worries away. I swear that I would be a perfect trophy wife if I had the time to go to the gym. I PROMISE!!! Anyone? Anyone? No takers? Dammit or damn it. Which is correct? I don't really know. I guess I will just clear that up and go with fuck it. That's correct, I'm sure of it.

Did I ever tell you
about the time I incited a bus riot? I didn't?

Well, I guess now is as good a time as any.

About 3 or 4 years ago, I was visiting my lovely friend M in her hometown of Yonkers, NY. I boarded the Amtrak train very early in the morning to begin my journey. I was sure that I was in for a wonderful weekend of debauchery. Little did I know how right I was.

Saturday came and it was determined that we would be going up to an Octoberfest field party being held by one of the local colleges. We took buses to the site from the school to make sure there was no drinking and driving. Good plan, right? Not exactly.

The party was fun. Tons of beer. Decided lack of bathroom facilities, everything you expect at a college gathering. It was late in the day and most of us in our little group--which was about 4 or 5 of us were pretty drunk. We made it onto one of the last buses, of which the guy to girl ratio was about 45 to 6, respectively. Did I mention that everyone was drunk? Good.

So, we are off, heading back to campus and everyone is quite gregarious. That is when this one particular chant seems to waft above the rest of the bus chatter.

"Show us your tits."
"Show us your tits."
"Show us your tits."
"Show us your tits."

Me (In a decidedly quiet voice)--"Who are they talking to?"
My friends: "I don't know."
Me (In a decidely NOT quiet voice)--"Who the fuck are y'all talking to?"

Now, I would like to point out that while I was drunk, I really only said something b/c I couldn't believe what was being chanted and was worried that they were harassing someone in particular and felt that was completely uncalled for.

Uh oh...and now they were, ME. The chants continue. I get smart and think of a clever retort that I will very soon regret.
"Fine, you are so down with this, why don't you show us your dick?" I said to the leader of the drunkie mcdrunkersteins.

I immediately realized this was the worst possible thing to say b/c guys rarely have a problem producing such a sight and this time was no exception. So, they definitely expected some reciprocation, which at the time, I was totally not down with.

Have I mentioned yet what my friends were doing? All of whom, minus M, I had JUST met? Well, they were not too pleased, but being the loyal sort, were ready to back my ass (or in this case tits) up. The unfortunate part? We made up 4 of the girls on the bus and only 1 of the guys. Gulp.

Things at this point had sort of escalated to a fever pitch when we noticed the bus has stopped in a parking lot. A NY STATE POLICE parking lot. Uh oh. You can almost hear the Dragnet music as the troopers got on the bus to see what the problem was. While a couple of people tried to explain, I am sure he rightly deduced that the main issue was that we were all drunk. All 6 girls were asked to get off the bus. (on a side note, this also allowed for us to get a much needed bathroom break, which was really good accident prevention, for me anyway.)

When the girls were allowed to board the bus again, we had to sit in the front, away from the boys and were told that if there were any more issues that we would all be arrested (not just the girls, but everyone.) That part was not fun. Nor was the last 30 minutes of that bus ride which seemed to last forever due to the fact that not a single person I knew was really talking to me.

Hmmm...I wonder why that was? Perhaps because I am a total ass? Possibly. In any case, the incident has long since been forgiven (sorry everyone) but not forgotten. But, how many other people can say that they incited a bus riot in NY? Ok, fine, well at least incited such an event for that retarded of a reason, then.

Free Katie
Thank God that someone is stepping in to help save our Joey Potter

Best of luck in your endeavor!

Hoo Boy...
I can't believe I am about to say this, but Jack Osborne actually looks good.

Congrats to him. And now I have to go and shoot myself in the face. Yikes!

Go Nationals
So, those of you in the Washington area are aware that our new little baseball team is kicking some ass in the standings and that is great. I have been fortunate enough to attend a couple of games and they have been awesome. What was more than awesome, though was the metro ride home last evening from the game.

So, we were lucky enough to beat the largest throngs of people and made it into the station and pretty much got right on a train. 'Wow, we thought, that was easy.' Little did we know that on our train was one of the most oddly animated and unanimated people I have ever come in contact with.

What do I mean by this? Well, let's start with when we got on the metro, he was sprawled out on the priority seating as if it was his own couch. My friend and I continued to talk about the game and other things until a couple of stops had passed and this guy had moved seats and was now putting his feet up all over the place.

Then his attention turned to us. Ruh roh.

H: Is this your first trip to Washington?
M: No, we're from the area.
H: Where?
My Friend: Dupont Circle (me thinking, you couldn't have picked something more believable?)
M: Yes, our parents are diplomats. (fine, not really)
H: So I guess that means I should stop talking to you.
Us: Silence...(and not really understanding why he thought that, I would say it was more of our demeanor that would have given him the hint)

About two minutes pass and he moves to the seat directly across from us.

H: So, do you actually even CARE about anything?
Us: What?
H: Hi, I'm 'Funky' but my friends call me 'Funk' and you are?
M: Emily (yes, that is totally not my name. Shut. Up.)
H: I will tell you something about myself. I used to work for the Grateful Dead and Bob Dylan.
Us Thinking: Really, we never would have guessed with the permanently stoned eyes you have and the fabulously long curly locks you are sporting.
M: What do you do now?
H: I choose to be unemployed to hang out with my old mother and knocked-up sister. You know, family is important.
Us: Hmmmm...
H: ruhumpfhhhhhhhh

See, it was at this point that he actually fell off his bench and rolled onto the floor. And then he didn't get up right away. Not sure if it was because he couldn't process what happened or perhaps he just liked the view from down there. Who knows. I know that I found it quite entertaining.

H: Homo sapien
M: Yes, aren't we all (a little confused by this segue)
H: Not you all, you're homosexuals.
Us: Huh? Nope, don't think so.
M: I don't think you understand the meaning of Homo sapien.

Now I think this was this poor man's way of determining whether or not my friend and I were together, which we are not. Once this was decided, he moved in for the kill. After poking me in my arm 5 times, I told him that I would not go out on a date with him.

H: Why?
M: I have a boyfriend named Thor.
H: What does he do?
M: Drives a tow truck. (now mind you I am describing my last ex, so it isn't EXACTLY a lie)
H: Huh...what kind of truck is it?
M: A TOW truck. I don't know what brand. One that can hold cars and trucks, I suppose.

Finally, our stop arrived and we were able to get off the train before our new friend Funk tried to sit in our laps and lick our faces.

So, if any of you ladies are looking for a fabulous man named Funk, I think I know where to find him. Blue Line train to Franconia-Springfield is all you need.