Merry Hungover Christmas!

Aah, Christmas. My third favorite time of year. I almost always wake up on Christmas hungover, but ready to drink the waiting mimosas. This year is no exception. Here I am at 4:00 a.m. because it is impossible to sleep in Christmas Morning, watching craptastic infomercials, and hungover.

Stranger Danger!

Stranger Danger!

We made Dad open a present last night, against his wishes (and better judgement). It was a bottle of Maple Crown Royal Whiskey. Amongst the large bottles of Miller Lite and the Crown, the family sat down to play Cranium. And things went downhill fast. I won’t torture anyone too much and will just state the highlight (or lowlight, depending on your sensibilities) was when I was trying to act out a charade, and Noah shouting out “Sodomy Night Fever”. I still have no idea what was going on.

Back to Christmas. Even if you don’t believe in celebrating, the atmosphere should be able to lift your spirits. Everyone is happier, children are all excited, and parents get to have the treat of letting a bit of Santa into the house. No matter how old you get, Christmas is exciting, at least for a bit. Hence the waking up at 4 when I should be sleeping off this hangover.

And I want a puppy, and a chew toy, and...

And I want a puppy, and a chew toy, and…


In summary, since I’m off to take a cold shower with a hot cup of coffee, I wish everyone a happy holiday. Later on in the year, you’ll probably need these cheery memories to sustain you once or twice throughout.

Baking?

I would like to start off by saying that I didn’t burn the house down. 

This morning, I decided that I was going to bake some cookies.  I told Noah, and he got the “Oh, crap, she’s going to start a fire” look on his face.  Later on when I started to look up recipes, I noticed him fiddling around in the hallway.  I asked him what he was doing, and he replied, “taking out the battery of the smoke detector”.  Well played.  I couldn’t be offended, since the last time I tried to cook anything, the bacon smell permeated the house for a few days and set off the detector a few times.

I decided to make shortbread cookies and red velvet crinkle cookies, per help from friends on Facebook.  There were quite a few suggestions of no bake cookies, but there is no risk in that. 

After researching how to make the cookies, going to the supermarket, making fun of the people in the supermarket, finding out that there is a difference between baking soda and baking powder, choosing which seasonal ice cream to buy, forcing Noah to make a decision between coconut cream and banana cream pie, returning the seasonal ice cream for a different flavor, I was too exhausted to cook. 

Let me rephrase my initial sentence.  I haven’t burned the house down.  Yet.  Tomorrow will be a different story.  Wish me luck!

Workin’ It

I’m staying at a hotel tonight for work and decided to fit in a workout. Half because I’ve been trying to stick with my Jillian MIchaels “I hate myself and am going to hurt my body for a half hour a day” routine, and half because I ate about a third of the items on the menu of the Olive Garden next door to my hotel.

The workout room is connected by windows to the room with the pool and jacuzzi. I did my stretching, then ran for about 45 minutes. And by running, I mean gasping for air while trying to keep a 3 mile an hour pace. After about 5 minutes into it, I looked over and there were two children with their faces pressed against the window staring at me.

Aaw, a fan club? I will give that a resounding, yes.

They did watch for a while, so I had to make it entertaining. I started to take giant strides, swinging my arms like I was racing for the gold. I plastered a giant grin on my face and slowly turned my head to give them a googly eyed, wide mouthed pose. By the way they went screaming to their grandma, I think it was a hit.

Then, once the kids had left, a few old men got into the jacuzzi and began to stare through the window in their relaxed position. That’s when it got creepy. I had to turn down the pace and crank up the incline when I started to feel dirty.  No need to keep up the jiggly with that kind of audience.

In all, a great workout!

More Internets?

I just read on Facebook that this girl I grew up with had to make a very tough decision and is going to quit her job to be a stay-at-home mom.  Great for her, except for the fact that she only works nights anyway, and all throughout the day she is on Facebook making cryptic remarks and playing Words with Friends.  I have a feeling that “raising her children” is code for “more internet time”.

 

Aww, Silly Drunk Goat

It’s pretty much a proven fact that I am awkward.  Here’s another reason why I should have my own sitcom.  I’m pretty sure that I have an alter-ego that lives inside my brain, who only comes out when I’ve been drinking.  While Sober Laura makes kinda good decisions and is halfway smart, Drunk Goat is sly and egotistical.

I was at the casino last night for a drawing where I was guaranteed to win at least $10, but up to thousands.  I ended up winning $10, so automatically hit a machine and lose it.  I withdraw $50 from my bank account and play with that for a couple of hours, and because I have a couple of beers, think it will be a great idea to do a cash advance with my credit card.  Yes, instead of taking out more from my bank account, I would rather pay a $20 fee to do a cash advance.  Silly Drunk Goat.

At this point, I go to the cash advance machine, since my credit card is still under my maiden name (yes, 4.5 years after marriage, I still haven’t updated it).  At the cash machine, I start to stick my card in, and am jostled by some other drunken idiot.  Of course, my card snaps in half and gets stuck.  I look around, see that there is a line behind me, and step closer to the machine so that no one can see what I’m doing.  After finding my bank card in my purse, I stick it in the slot, and pretend that it’s the same card that I had been using the same time.

“What?  Why is my card not fitting in this damn machine?”  I make enough of a fuss so that the line behind me thinks there is something wrong with the cash advance machine, put my sad face on, and walk away.

All this came naturally.  Going to security and telling them that my card broke in the machine didn’t even cross my mind until later.  If I were sober, well, I wouldn’t have gone for the cash advance anyway, but I sure would have let someone know that I wanted my half of a credit card back.  The half with my name on it.  Hopefully they don’t have record of my maiden name.  Not that they would do anything since I’m pretty sure that I pay the salary of at least 5 of their employees.

So now I get to contact my credit card company and tell them I “lost” my card.  Maybe while I have them on the phone I will have them update my name.

Formal Complaint

I have been working at the University for over 5 years, and yesterday was the first time someone called to complain about me. I had been on the phone with her for about half an hour, and she was in no way qualified to join our teaching certification. I very nicely told her the requirements, and the conversation went like this:

Crazy Lady: I want to join your Alternate Routes to Certification in Mathematics program.

Me: Great! In order to enter this, you will need to have a degree in Math or a related field, as well as pass the WEST-E (content knowledge test) in Mathematics. What is your undergraduate degree in?

CL: Business. That qualifies, right?

Me: It might, but the only way a business degree would work is if it was very heavily focused in Math, or you had a math minor.

CL: Well, what is considered a related field?

Me: There are quite a few. Engineering, accounting, computer systems, actuary, to name a few.

CL: Good. So business qualifies. What about the WEST-E.

Me: Actually, a business degree won’t really qualify unless you have taken quite a few math courses within the program. And yes, you will need to pass the WEST-E also.

CL: So, if I pass the WEST-E, I can start.

Me: In order to begin, you need to pass the WEST-E AND have an undergraduate degree in Math or a related field.

CL: It doesn’t say that on your website.

Me: Hmmm, let me check really quickly.  Aah, here it is, if you go to our website, then click on ARC Math, you will see that it states that you need the degree and WEST test.

CL: What is considered a Math related degree? I’ve looked at the WEST-E and it looks easy. I’ll start the program this year.

Me: A business degree is not considered a Math related field unless you have taken quite a few math courses. How many math courses did you take with your undergraduate degree? You may still be able to qualify.

CL: I took Algebra.

Me: That’s really not enough to get started with this Alternate Route.

CL: Well, no one really knows math. I’m sure any person that took this program would have to take the same math courses every year to remember what was going on. So I can start?

Me: ….

CL: My business degree counts as a related field, right?

This went on for quite a while before I was able to convince her that, no, she is not qualified to teach children math. (And to be honest with ya, the concept of her teaching math to my nieces or nephews terrifies me).

Johnny D had been laughing the whole time that I was on the phone with Crazy Lady. Once I finished my conversation with CL, he congratulated me on not just hanging up on her. “I don’t know how you can stay so patient with these people”, he remarked.

No sooner that he said that, our main office line started ringing, so he answered it. It was Crazy Lady calling to complain about me. Apparently, I was rude, snippy, stupid, had no idea what I was talking about, and she wanted to file a formal complaint. She also wanted to speak with a different advisor. Johnny D promptly transferred her over to the only other Advisor who does my job.

I thought it was hysterical. When Johnny D started rattling off all of her complaints about me, we both started laughing because it was so untrue. And….when the other advisor got off the phone with her, the advisor called me to give me the lowdown. Apparently Crazy Lady had already been working with her for over a month, trying to finagle a way into the program.

Crazy Lady just left a message on my bosses phone to file a formal complaint about my coworker and I. My boss also thinks it’s hysterical, because the complaint is that we are “discriminating”.

 To be completely true, I really was discriminating. I think that someone with no knowledge of math and doesn’t meet a single state requirement for teaching math should not be in charge of teaching math. Call me a bigot, but so be it.

You’re Welcome

Today we had our semi-annual State of the University speech.  I don’t usually have the patience for these things, so I logged on from my work phone instead of going in person.  And was very glad. 

The president is known for his absurd similes.  Last year he compared us to the Chilean miners who were stuck underground for a record amount of days.  Why?  Because marketing made huge errors and didn’t get our new branding out into the public eye.  It was at that point that for the second year in a row, it was announced that we were taking yet another pay hit in exchange for furlough days.   Because furlough days are the same thing as being trapped underground for weeks thinking that you will die down there.

This time, he gave a rousing speech about how sometimes we were the pigeon and sometimes we were the statue.  I have no idea what the hell that was in regards to.  It might have something to do with him talking about the HR survey results that found employees to be “unhappy” with their pay.  He then went on, with no change in tone, to say that, “sometimes just saying ‘thank you’ is enough, and makes up for a lack of pay, so ‘thank you’”. 

Really?  I’ve been working on a skeleton crew for 2 years making less money than the year before, and I get a bored sounding “thank you”?  Well, gosh, Mr. President, you’re very welcome! 

I think its safe to say that I’m pretty damn ready to quit my job.  Too bad we’re just waiting on the housing situation.