I am coining a phrase: Cube-Jack

Cube-jack:  An event that takes place when a co-worker visiting me in my cubicle is approached by another co-worker, who then begins a conversation about something unrelated to my work but remains in my workspace.

A fairly extensive Google search turns up no uses of this term, so I'm coining it.  There you go.  Use it as a noun, verb, adjective...cubejack, cubejacking, cubejacker, cubejacked!

Unlikely Culprit

This morning as I was pumping gas (nearly $3 per gallon!!!) I could hear a clear bass line thumping out of an 80's vintage Blazer parked up by the quickie mart.  I was bobbing my head and shaking my hips just a smidge as I tried to place the beat.  To have me dancing before 10 a.m. was quite an accomplishment.  I wondered which tattooed young man would come out of the store and get into the hoopty that was heavy on the woofers, light on the turtle wax.

I watched as the exit door swung open and a gal in her late 30's wearing an old t-shirt, scruffy shorts, and a scowl marched out of the store and toward the Blazer, smokes in hand.

As she opened the driver's side door, the sound flowed out, much louder and clearer than before: "Oh, me so horny, me love you long time..."

Huh.

Three things ruining my day

1. The underwire bra I am wearing. For the love of technology, can't we come up with some other, more comfortable way to lift and separate? Or lift and squish together? Or whatever we're trying to do to them these days? This is torture.

2. The waist on these pants is too small. (alternatively known as: 2. The waist on my body is too big.) Just the waist, mind you. The rest of the pants fit just fine. So in addition to the wires gouging my rib cage, the waistband of these pants is slicing me in two.

3. Backfat. (aka: My bra is too tight, or my shirt is too snug, or both?)

I'm feeling some definite body depression today. The weight is coming off, but slowly, and I'm edgy with a strange combination of PMS and Spring Fever.

Chick magnet

Guys, if you ever want the ladies to just flock around you (this is kinda starting out like all that spam for "v!ag@ra" and "c!al!$" that I get), just borrow a baby and take it out in public.

That's all you have to do. Women will come from miles around to ooh and ahh over your little friend and you can cash in big.

This just happened to the mister while I was with him, so I can't imagine how much fun it would be if you were unencumbered by a sigoth!

My college boyfriend's roommate used to borrow my puppy on Saturdays for the same reason and it worked pretty well for him.

Thank me later.

The magic blog

Well! When I got home last night, I noticed that all the bathmats were in the washer!

I think tonight I really need to win the lottery.

And lose 20 pounds.

Good Housekeeping

The cat threw up last week on a bathmat. I did pick up the largest part of it with a huge amount of toilet paper (enough so my hands could not feel the squishiness of it) and disposed of that.

I then folded the bathmat in half so the affected portion was no longer visible.

It's still there.

Hey, at least the baby can't crawl over and poke the cat detritus with his finger, like he did last time.

I'm cleaning the bathroom this weekend, I swear!

Irrational fear

By the way, as I was preparing for the presentation today, I skipped lunch. When I got to the meeting I grabbed the only refreshments available - a coke and a rich chocolate brownie. As I was about to give my portion of the presentation and the speaker before me was wrapping up, I had three thoughts:

What if I pass out from this massive sugar imbalance and resulting headache?

I wonder if anyone ever pees their pants while delivering a presentation? (note: I wasn't afraid I would do this - I just considered the possibility that it ever happens.)

What if I have cosmically jinxed myself just by thinking that?

I am the lizard king

Many people list public speaking as a number-one fear. I don't know what about it scares them, but I can tell you what my deal is: I know I'm being mocked. Know it. Whether it's my hair, my weight, my content, my nervous attempt at humor, what have ya, I know you're laughing at me.

Am I being paranoid if I'm right? I've sat through enough of my friends' comments during other people's presentations to know that someone out there is finding fault with something about mine (or me).

I used to get paid to talk on the radio to hundreds of thousands of people at once and never thought twice about it, but being there in person just brings a new level of vulnerability to the situation. I'm like that in general, I guess. Great on the phone, often hilarious on IM or rapid-fire email, but uncomfortable with in-person conversation.

Maybe I'll take a page from Jim Morrison and try my next presentation with my back to the audience.