Thursday, January 31, 2002

To anyone checking my blog compulsively (read:more than twice a day) know that I don't update that often during a day. Usually one post in the morning, another in the afternoon. This will save for mucho checking and getting disappointed. Unless you're stalking me, and then I'll just have to cry.
The gift baskets from Mrs. Beasley have run out and I have a major craving for the brownie bars. And the truffle cookies. And the lemon cake. Take this entry as an all out hint as to what Karen wants for her birthday. But April is so far off. What shall I do? Oh yeah! I can order it myself. Rock on!
It seems like the writers/producers of Dawson's Creek have the same, dreamworld mentality of the writers/producers of Felicity -- if you're underage in college in a big city, you obviously can get served alcohol in a bar! Gee, they'd never check ID in Boston or New York! Just give all the kiddies who are applying to college in those areas the idea that just because they're wearing Abercrombie and Fitch, they'll get a Budweiser from their friendly bartender, no questions asked. And no bouncers at the door for that matter! Puh-lease

Wednesday, January 30, 2002

Who said terrorists were bad people? They're going to send the Wall Street Journal reporter's family some great, finger-lickin' Pakistani food should they decide to kill him!:
"Therefore we will execute him within 24 hours unless America fulfills our demands," the e-mail said. "We apologize to his family for the worry caused and we will send them food packages."
Ever notice the louder a person is, the bigger the ego? Hmmmm....
It must be going to rain buckets because not only is my left, formerly broken wrist hurting, my right hand is bugging me, too. I'm convinced I'm going to have a permenant curvature in my hand from using a mouse all the time. Maybe we'll be a whole generation of curved-hand people...high-fives would be a little tough.
The "pagentry and puppetry" (Um, it's not Mardi Gras, people) of the protests don't seem to be getting much coverage. How disappointing.
Only 15 days until Yankee pitchers and catchers report. Make a joyful noise!!
Today has all the makings of a bad day (the sky looks like it's about to burst, the rebel rich unemployed are protesting, my left eye is attacking my contact and my boss is out) but some funny things have happened making me feel a bit better. For one, a huge truck blocked a crosswalk on Sixth Ave. this morning, and the driver literally leaned out the window to apologize to everyone giving him dirty looks for having to walk around the truck. Truck drivers never admit when they're in the wrong. Maybe the apocolypse is coming. Then in Burger King (for a yummy, greasy breakfast value meal), the normally grouchy staff was quite chipper. Bill Withers' 'Ain't no Sunshine' was playing and this guy in the back with the food started to sing along. His boss was getting kind of pissed, but the dude standing next to him told him to sing louder. It doesn't take much to amuse me, I guess.

Tuesday, January 29, 2002

It's 68 degrees outside. WHY THE HELL AM I TRAPPED AT A WINDOWLESS DESK????!!!!!
There should be a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Cubicle Workers, damn it.
This whole readying for the protests at the World Economic Forum cracks me up. First of all, I didn't get to SEE any news about it until last night. I did HEAR the news in the background at work, and when they said there were going to be all these protestors coming and major gridlock was going to happen as a result, I was expecting blue-collar people with real issues or something would be doing the marching. Then I SEE the FOX 5 News at 10 (sidenote: if you're ever in need of a good laugh and in the NY area, watch this news cast. It's so bad and everything is so oversensationalized, it's funny) and I find out the protestors aren't people making minimum wage and getting screwed out of benefits -- it's kids my age who make it their job to get "angry" over this stuff. Which leads me to believe one thing -- they're a bunch of spoiled brats who have never had to work a day in their life. Probably "rebelling" against Daddy's wanting them to take over the family firm. How else would they be able to afford not working? And ruining half the Upper East Side's commute tomorrow, to boot! It's lovely that they feel the need to be the "voice" of the common man, but this person making an average salary could only hope that they're struck down with laryngitis, then get a job like the rest of us.

Monday, January 28, 2002

That Mother Goose what-day-of-the-week-were-you-born poem has always bugged me. Here it is, if you've never seen it:
Monday's child is fair of face.
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe.
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving.
Saturday's child works hard for his living.
The child that is born on the Sabbath day
is great, and good, and fair, and gay.

Now, I get the sneaking suspicion the author of this was born on a Sunday. Every other day of the week is only blessed with some lame "good" trait. Except for Wednesday, who gets a swift kick in the ass, and I feel terribly for. Could you just picture Mother Goose, rubbing her hands together, thinking out loud (very much like the evil characters on Days of Our Lives) 'Now let's make anyone born on Hump Day feel like shit!', followed by an evil laugh? Since I'm a child that works hard for my living, I'm going to re-write this to make everyone feel crappy!

Monday's child has a pasty face
Tuesday's child has a big fat waist
Wednesday's child is a bitch-slapping pimp
Thursday's child is a wussey wimp
Friday's child pushes coke and grass
Saturday's child is a lazy ass
The child that's born on Sunday, the worst day of the week because you're either feeling bad for not going to Church or nursing a hangover or dreading going to work the next day, is boring, evil, self-centered and plain old pain in the ass.
It's quite interesting when you feel your company grasping at straws. Like the mentality that if the office goes about things faster, it's going to sell more magazines. Um, whatever.

Every now and then I get this strange feeling like I'm not making enough money. And that usually happens when I'm pricing apartments. Speaking of, I'd like to know what the snooty bitches who write Sex and the City find wrong with Weehawken. Obviously, they picked the strangest-sounding NJ town and decided to dis it, while not even realizing its rents are only slightly less insane than Manhattan.

Gee, I get the feeling I'm in a slightly bad mood today…I need some cheering up, pronto.

Sunday, January 27, 2002

I just wanted to put on record that it is January and I went to the beach today and didn't even need a coat. And I probably could've stripped down to a T-shirt and been completely comfortable. I'm guessing this means we'll be punished when April rolls around and it's snowing or something. Anyway, it's days like today that make me appreciate (not that I don't on any other day) living close to the beach. I hope I never take for granted that I can just hop in my car and go on a whim. But then the BENNIES/WEBS are the other side of that coin...
Derek Jeter's Middletown Home Update: It's still a pile of dirt. The new house nextdoor, however, is one gaudy piece of architecture.
Note to the McGraw-Hill people: Seagulls still have webbed feet, not one pair of talons in sight at Sandy Hook today.
And if anyone knows of any job openings in writing or something you know I'd be interested in, let me know. When your office gets an e-mail saying that rumors of it folding (even though you've never heard the rumors) are completely false, it's time to start getting a back-up plan. And when your job description changes for the third time in a year, well, you know what I'm getting at.

Friday, January 25, 2002

Do you know an office bully? Oh, the stories I could tell...and it amazes me that bullies in the workplace are the ones the higher ups adore the most. Go figure.
So that's two New Year's wishes granted now that Hollis has a blog!
Hollis had me hysterical at my desk today when she e-mailed me directions to a 3rd grade activity she was editing: "Fold a sheet of paper like a hamburger." If anyone can explain how one goes about doing this, I'd be delighted to know.

A few of us in the office are trying to 'guess the plot' (a la the Love Boat) with "A Walk to Remember". The general consensus is that Mandy Moore's character dies, after teaching Shane West's character about the true meaning of love. Please inform me if I'm wrong.

MTV did a thing on escorts (read: high-class hos) last night, and it was one of the funniest things I've seen in a long time. I don't know if it was my lack of food intake for the day or the fact that this one woman was trying to pass herself off as 25 and looked at least 40. It's very funny to note how highly they all think of themselves. If only we could all think that we're the best thing since sliced bread at the workplace...

Wednesday, January 23, 2002

So, this whole Rudy Giuliani movie-of-the-week thing has me scratching my head. First of all, the people who are making it did the TV movies on Jesus, Moses and Julius Ceasar. Ummmm....is anyone else reminded of the Sesame Street skit they always did with "Which one of these things doesn't fit in with the others"? Lets split the screen 4 ways and think who is soooooooo not part of world history : Rudy, J. Christ, Charlton Heston as Moses, Julius... Oh yeah! I forgot -- Ceasar wasn't a holy icon! Note the sarcasm here. And the best part are the people they want to cast as Sir Rudy himself. Danny Aiello??? Is that just because he's Italian, because if that's the case, I'd be in the running. Robert Duvall? A bit too old. My dad suggested Joe Pantoliano, who I think might be the best candidate, and he's not even mentioned. The again, why do I even care?

Tuesday, January 22, 2002

David Wells shirts are now available at the Yankee Clubhouse Stores. When I saw the number 33 in the window this morning, I almost tripped when I realized his perfect game was almost 4 years ago. Where the hell did the time go?

So after the snow fell Saturday, I was trapped inside for awhile, so I read a book for teenagers called 'The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants' and it's the best book I've read in a while. Go figure. I read it all in one day (no tough feat for a kids book, I know), that's how absorbing the four characters were. I can only hope girls pick it up and enjoy it as much as I did. And that I can write something just as good someday.

I think I had the most boring weekend known to man, but I got to work on my juggling a bit. And I'm getting OK at it, which is a lot farther than I was a month ago at this time. I only managed to knock over a glass of water yesterday...

Wednesday, January 16, 2002

To the list of Cool Dudes, Past and Present, I wish to add Mark Twain. After watching the Ken Burns (is there anything this man can't make interesting?) series on PBS, I've found new admiration for Samuel Clemens. Just his sense of humor/dry wit alone is enough to put him on the list, even without the whole book-writing thing.

If there was a list of People Who Call Themselves Baseball Fans (Among Other Things), But Are Really Coniving Asses, I'd add Rudy Giuliani to it. Just because I haven't spewed about his little stadium plans lately doesn't mean I've forgotten his bratty (yes, that's the word I'm using. He just reminded me of a spoiled rich kid who always gets his way because everyone tells him he can do no wrong his last few days in office) scheming. Rudy, if you're reading, you're no Yankee/New York baseball fan. And neither is your pal George Steinbrenner. Your only interests are lining your pockets and pumping up your big fat heads. There's a difference. Please remember that.

NJ Transit, I hate you. Yes, I hate you. But I'm not out for blood. I just want your executives to have to endure the kind of commute we were all put through last night out of Penn Station. I want your CEO to have to stand in a waiting area so jam-packed because of train delays, you literally couldn't move. I want your vice president to endure the pushing and shoving when a train is called, and your president to have his foot stepped on by a stampede of people trying to catch the express train to Dover. I want you all to know what it's like to have a train called exactly 2 minutes before the doors on the train close (with thousands of people trying to make the train). Then I want you to have to stand on this packed train, where people are shoved into every open space. And I want you to know what it's like to get home 40 minutes late, which isn't as bad as the half hour I'm late to work at least once a week. Whatever your master plan was with adding more trains, it ain't helping. Stop crying poverty and learn to spend your money wisely. Because come April, you can take my 275 dollar monthly pass and shove it where the sun don't shine.

Tuesday, January 15, 2002

I have a new idol -- Mrs. Beasley. No, not the scary doll Buffy used to carry around on Family Affair, but the baker. Or her legion of bakers, anyway. Around the holidays, soap PR departments send us gift baskets, and Mrs. Beasley products are the big office hit. They are the yummiest cakes, cookies, brownies, etc. I think I've ever eaten. I'm looking for special occasions to send a basket to friends, then invite myself over to partake. Hell, I may even send myself a gift basket, that's HOW GOOD this stuff is.

Monday, January 14, 2002

In case you want to know more about me (hint: please don't send me those e-mails where you answer questions about yourself anymore!), here are 90 things you do or do not know about KB.
I've decided that anyone who says that they must eat takeout every night because they 'don't know how to cook' is lying. Just admit it, it's easier to get takeout. Anyone who can read can cook. Following a recipe isn't that hard and it appalls me that there are people my age who say their biggest culinary masterpiece is 'boiling water for pasta'. Tsk, tsk. Those who have never learned to cook are missing out, big time. Not only do you feed yourself, but you can impress others (hopefully those that cook for themselves and not those that are just scrounging for a meal). So, say it with me now:"I can cook. I am just being lazy when I say I can't. There isn't anything physically demanding or emotionally draining about steaming string beans. I will read some recipes that I like and make something yummy. Because I am not a lazy ass."

I was very dissapointed to find out that the Blazing Saddles DVD has a few scenes cut from it -- the curses are all there, the farting is there, but Mongo scubadiving for buried treasure is gone. Very, very bad indeed.

Sunday, January 13, 2002

I was so aggravated by something I saw on MTV yesteray. I was watching the True Life on little people and it majorly burns my ass that people actually laugh at them, not because of what they say or do, but because of what they look like. And celebrities are not immune. This very pretty little person really wants to be an actress, so her friend's manager calls her up and asks if she'd like to do a strip-tease for John Stamos. And who called in the offer but his wife, Rebecca Romijn Stamos, who specifically requested a little person. Now, I used to think she was a nice person based on interviews, but now I realize she is a complete fake and total bitch. They were going to have this poor woman go in there and strip, just so they could laugh at her. Thankfully she turned it down. Then, she gets hired by Ozzy Osbourne as an evil dwarf or something and she really regretted taking the job. It's sick how we like to laugh at anything like that. Grow the hell up, America.

Friday, January 11, 2002

I wonder what it is about the city of New York and the people who carry umbrellas while in the fair metropolis. It's like all common sense is sucked from people's heads when the umbrella goes up. As if rainy days weren't annoying enough, try having the idiot with the big golf umbrella walking like snail, with the slow-moving smoker next to him, who is more intent on keeping their precious cigarette lit (because they're too cool to carry an umbrella) than actually walking. Ugh. Rainy days and Mondays always make me pissed.

At least David Wells was re-signed. It was a sad day when the trade for Roger was announced. I still feel bad about it, as I don't quite feel inspired by Roger for some reason. The whole bat throwing thing could have something to do with it. Although, as my dad says, he was only trying to protect Tino from Piazza who was running to first with a sharp object in his hand.

Thursday, January 10, 2002

Why is it the minute we show we're interested in a guy in anyway, they treat us like crap? Men really have to back off this "thrill of the hunt" crap because I like hunting, too. No way am I going to hide my feelings because HE has to be the pursuer and I need to be a game-playing bitch. It amazes me that men and women can even have a conversation because if the woman is interested in what the man is saying, won't the man get bored and go talk to some slutty girl who doesn't care? This is a phenomenon circulating in my circle of friends A LOT lately, and it really irks me.

Tuesday, January 08, 2002

I just need to go off about the ridiculousness of NJ Transit for a moment. First off, my insanely overpriced train ticket of 249 bucks a month is now going to be something like 275, for shitty service no less. Then, I finally get an answer about the private train car that they have on the 5:27 out of Penn Station -- the people who ride in the car actually PAID for the car. There's comfy-looking seats and tables in the car (not the sardine can that is an NJ Transit 3-seater) and no one but the 'chosen ones' are allowed to ride in it. It's like a frat on a train. I did once see a mother with 3 kids who couldn't get a seat (surprise, surprise) get 'invited' to sit in the secluded section (which is blocked off by a door with no handle, so no middle income marauders can get in to bother the rich), but that's it. My area is very rich, unfortunately, but I never thought people would be so snobby as to feel the need to separate themselves from us 'paupers' on the hour-long ride home by PURCHASING HALF OF A TRAIN CAR. Ugh.

Sunday, January 06, 2002

From the office of Ms. Karen Bischer, happy single person: NOW HEAR THIS: In no way, shape or form is Karen interested in anyone you want to set her up with. Just because she's single and your friend/cousin/neighbor/co-worker/cellmate is single does not romance make in Ms. Bischer's mind. Yet no matter how much she tells people this, it goes very much ignored, as most people seem to like playing yenta matchmaker with Karen, who is very much happy being single, which many find extremely odd. If a decent young man catches her fancy, she'll let you know. But from now on, she wishes to be left alone and not force a romance. She can do that on her own, though she knows you all mean well. Thanks so much for obliging.

Friday, January 04, 2002

My parents and the Clintons finally have something in common -- their Labradors decide to die while the owners are on vacation. Though I seriously doubt that Chelsea had to deal with the dog's passing on her own as I did with our dearly departed Rookie. Speaking of, Buddy has a fan club site with no news of his death. Very mysterious.

Dexter and Vicki got me an Izone camera for Christmas, which is shaping up to be a very fun present. I fully intend to freak out co-workers with it.

Thursday, January 03, 2002

69 ways to tell you're from New Jersey is a fun list. Most of the stuff applies, though I don't say cawfee or dawg, I've never been called a BENNY (thank god) and I love Perkins. I guess we Jerseyites aren't all the same.
And I thought my office was cold -- Laura T. has to take inventory in a freezer today. She's going to be counting pierogis while bundled up in a coat and gloves. Don't let anyone tell you that accountants have cushy jobs.

Des has the line of the day. While discussing someone's bad taste in the opposite sex she says, "If love is blind, he's Helen Keller."

Wednesday, January 02, 2002

I have a bone to pick with the current institution of the bridal shower. As my day to move out (again) draws nearer, I think how nice it would be to have a vaccuum cleaner, new linens and wooden spoons. But since I'm not marrying anyone, I won't get a gift-getting party. I didn't the first time I moved out either, and the brunt of the expense of buying necessities fell on single income me. Think about it: Why don't people who simply get their own place never get a shower? House-warmings don't count, since houseplants and alcohol aren't gifts that get you by (though they certainly help). If you're moving out on your own, you don't have a husband/wife to rely on for extra money. So the single person goes broke while trying to afford bathmats, ironing boards and dishrags. And considering most couples live on their own before they get married and probably have their own stuff already, what's the point? People rarely get married at 18 with no money or homey items nowadays, so I think the concept of the bridal shower is outdated. Give single people (men and women) moving out for the first time a break and get them a mixer, utensils and pillows. They need it more than anyone who's probably just going to get divorced in 7 years anyway.