Dear Diary,
I've invited my mother and my smother-in-law for brunch on Mothers' Day. Why? Because I'm an IDIOT. I don't know what I was thinking. They'll both show up with food, because they both think I'm incomptent (do you remember the tin foil incident????). It's all I can think about. I'm a total stress case. Frittata or omelettes? Bloody Marys or mimosas? (both, duh) Hydrangeas or peonies? Pants or skirt? I want to make sure everything is perfect. I think the way tackle this, Diary, is with a checklist. So here goes:
- Pick cigarette butts out of yard
- Remove dead ferns from porch
- Hide recycling bags full of empty booze bottles
- Remove beer cans from bathroom/guestroom/office
- Pretend we use forks and napkins
- Hide all traffic tickets/outdated jury summons/utility cutoff notices
- Pretend we use our wedding gifts
- Get a salt shaker (Adults use salt shakers, right?)
OK, that takes care of the big stuff. Now I just have to remember how to set a table.
Love, Fluffy
28.4.05
20.4.05
The Rules
Dear People in the Workplace,
I've been working in an office environment a long time, and I consider myself a model cubester. I don't do anything annoying, ever. Unfortunately, not everyone can be like me. Some of you need some instructions on how to behave in an office setting. Luckily for you, I've developed a list of simple rules you can follow to be less annoying.
Cubicle Etiquette
No tribal music.
No loud yogurt-stirring.
No "Play That Funky Music, White Boy" cell phone rings.
No coming up behind someone's cube and saying, "Knock knock!"
No lurking.
No singing Christmas carols.
Communal Kitchen Etiquette
If you take the last cup of coffee, make more. Contrary to popular belief, there is no coffee fairy.
Do not stand at the sink washing out your tupperware for more than 30 seconds.
Do not bring in a mini George Foreman and grill smelly meat.
Do not discuss medical procedures in the kitchen.
Do not look at and/or sniff other peoples' food and say, "Mmm. What you got there?"
Elevator Etiquette:
Do not hold the door open to finish a conversation before you get on.
No touching.
No comments about it being Friday or Monday, positive or negative.
No cell phone activity.
No singing.
Bathroom Etiquette
No conversing in or around the bathroom.
Wash your hands thoroughly, especially if someone's watching. You WILL be outed.
No greeting people on their way to/from the bathroom.
Absolutely no cell phones.
No paperwork.
Wheelchair Etiquette
No running people over and then making it seem like they hate cripples.
That should do. Direct any questions to Fluffy Windover, model cubester.
Love, Fluffy
I've been working in an office environment a long time, and I consider myself a model cubester. I don't do anything annoying, ever. Unfortunately, not everyone can be like me. Some of you need some instructions on how to behave in an office setting. Luckily for you, I've developed a list of simple rules you can follow to be less annoying.
Cubicle Etiquette
No tribal music.
No loud yogurt-stirring.
No "Play That Funky Music, White Boy" cell phone rings.
No coming up behind someone's cube and saying, "Knock knock!"
No lurking.
No singing Christmas carols.
Communal Kitchen Etiquette
If you take the last cup of coffee, make more. Contrary to popular belief, there is no coffee fairy.
Do not stand at the sink washing out your tupperware for more than 30 seconds.
Do not bring in a mini George Foreman and grill smelly meat.
Do not discuss medical procedures in the kitchen.
Do not look at and/or sniff other peoples' food and say, "Mmm. What you got there?"
Elevator Etiquette:
Do not hold the door open to finish a conversation before you get on.
No touching.
No comments about it being Friday or Monday, positive or negative.
No cell phone activity.
No singing.
Bathroom Etiquette
No conversing in or around the bathroom.
Wash your hands thoroughly, especially if someone's watching. You WILL be outed.
No greeting people on their way to/from the bathroom.
Absolutely no cell phones.
No paperwork.
Wheelchair Etiquette
No running people over and then making it seem like they hate cripples.
That should do. Direct any questions to Fluffy Windover, model cubester.
Love, Fluffy
19.4.05
BBE
Dear Diary,
This weekend I'm a bridesmaid and I'm getting my first manicure ever. I just don't really do manicures. I even did my own nails for my wedding, top and bottom. (And I must say, they looked divine.) But you may be surprised at my reasoning. It's not becuase I'm cheap or because I don't like strangers touching me (though I am cheap and I don't like strangers touching me).
Anyway. No, the reason is that I have a disgusting nervous habit of tearing the skin off of my fingers obsessively. Until they bleed. Can't help myself. I've been doing it as long as I can remember. My thumbs look like raw meat. The BHE often makes me wear mittens when we're watching TV. My brother used to throw things at my head to get me to stop. My pediatrician said, "Sit on your hands." My grown-up doctor said, "Up your medication."
It's a hard habit to explain to people. They say, "Why do you want to hurt yourself like that?" But it's not a matter of want. It's a matter of crazy.
POINT BEING. I'm trying to stop picking and ripping and tearing and biting my fingers until I get this manicure. I've painted my nails all pretty, and I keep my hands nicely moisterized. I try not to look at my fingers, lest they mock me into tearing them to shreds. Stoplights are the worst. (What else are you going to do at a stoplight??) On top of this, I'm trying to cut down on beer and junkfood. So all I gotta say is, when I get to this salon on Saturday, there better be a beer and a bag of doritos waiting for me. Because I'm working hard for this manicure.
Love, Fluffy (Best Bridesmaid EVER)
This weekend I'm a bridesmaid and I'm getting my first manicure ever. I just don't really do manicures. I even did my own nails for my wedding, top and bottom. (And I must say, they looked divine.) But you may be surprised at my reasoning. It's not becuase I'm cheap or because I don't like strangers touching me (though I am cheap and I don't like strangers touching me).
Anyway. No, the reason is that I have a disgusting nervous habit of tearing the skin off of my fingers obsessively. Until they bleed. Can't help myself. I've been doing it as long as I can remember. My thumbs look like raw meat. The BHE often makes me wear mittens when we're watching TV. My brother used to throw things at my head to get me to stop. My pediatrician said, "Sit on your hands." My grown-up doctor said, "Up your medication."
It's a hard habit to explain to people. They say, "Why do you want to hurt yourself like that?" But it's not a matter of want. It's a matter of crazy.
POINT BEING. I'm trying to stop picking and ripping and tearing and biting my fingers until I get this manicure. I've painted my nails all pretty, and I keep my hands nicely moisterized. I try not to look at my fingers, lest they mock me into tearing them to shreds. Stoplights are the worst. (What else are you going to do at a stoplight??) On top of this, I'm trying to cut down on beer and junkfood. So all I gotta say is, when I get to this salon on Saturday, there better be a beer and a bag of doritos waiting for me. Because I'm working hard for this manicure.
Love, Fluffy (Best Bridesmaid EVER)
15.4.05
I want to ride it where I like.
Dear Diary,
This weekend the BHE and I are going to buy bikes. You know, a couple of Schwinn cruisers so we can tool around town. (We're not "mountain bike" people. Seriously, what mountain?)
My question is, what does one wear while one is bicycling around town? Bermuda shorts? A jaunty scarf? A martini? The answer is yes, yes, and yes. Because that's what I plan to wear. Don't worry, Diary. This is a hobby I will stick to. Not like photography, ballet, tennis, and the ukulele. You see, I have the BHE's support on this one. Though he did ask me, "Fluffy, don't you think you'd spill your drink on a bike?"
"But you see Darling, that's what they make sports bottles for."
Love, Fluffy
This weekend the BHE and I are going to buy bikes. You know, a couple of Schwinn cruisers so we can tool around town. (We're not "mountain bike" people. Seriously, what mountain?)
My question is, what does one wear while one is bicycling around town? Bermuda shorts? A jaunty scarf? A martini? The answer is yes, yes, and yes. Because that's what I plan to wear. Don't worry, Diary. This is a hobby I will stick to. Not like photography, ballet, tennis, and the ukulele. You see, I have the BHE's support on this one. Though he did ask me, "Fluffy, don't you think you'd spill your drink on a bike?"
"But you see Darling, that's what they make sports bottles for."
Love, Fluffy
5.4.05
Resume
Dear Diary,
With my current job satisfaction at an all-time low (leaving early to get a pap smear is even a treat) I've been working on my resume. What a joke. Microsoft Project and RoboHelp my ass. This is what I've really been doing the past few years.
Fluffy Windover
Education:
- BA, University of M. Met bare minimum of requirements.
- Three failed grad school attempts, various institutions.
- One graduate "certificate" (afraid to say what it is, lest potential employer might think I know anything about the subject matter)
Experience:
Wife (2003-Present)
Homeowner (2003-Present)
Binge Drinker (1996-Present)
Recreational Drug User (1991-1994)
Serial Dater, Specializing in Friends from College (1997-2001)
Happy Hour Hostess (1998-2000)
Skills:
Gracious hostessing, doing crossword puzzles, rationalizing irresponsible behavior, making boring people feel interesting, arm touching, recognizing famous people, naming tunes, doing taxes, laughing.
There. Now wouldn't you hire me?
Love, Fluffy
With my current job satisfaction at an all-time low (leaving early to get a pap smear is even a treat) I've been working on my resume. What a joke. Microsoft Project and RoboHelp my ass. This is what I've really been doing the past few years.
Fluffy Windover
Education:
- BA, University of M. Met bare minimum of requirements.
- Three failed grad school attempts, various institutions.
- One graduate "certificate" (afraid to say what it is, lest potential employer might think I know anything about the subject matter)
Experience:
Wife (2003-Present)
Homeowner (2003-Present)
Binge Drinker (1996-Present)
Recreational Drug User (1991-1994)
Serial Dater, Specializing in Friends from College (1997-2001)
Happy Hour Hostess (1998-2000)
Skills:
Gracious hostessing, doing crossword puzzles, rationalizing irresponsible behavior, making boring people feel interesting, arm touching, recognizing famous people, naming tunes, doing taxes, laughing.
There. Now wouldn't you hire me?
Love, Fluffy
1.4.05
Prep Transformation
Dear Diary,
Grosgrain ribbon, grosgrain ribbon, grosgrain ribbon!!
Allow me to explain. I'm slowly transforming myself into a prep. If anyone remembers the Annapolis mall circa 1982, think Pappagallo. But it's a slow and subtle transformation. A little here, a little there. For example. Instead of wearing black converse sneakers, I now wear white converse sneakers. I bought a pink and green grosgrain ribbon watch band. I bought a grosgrain ribbon keychain, too. But I didn't get the pink one with the green whales on it (which I really REALLY wanted), because that is way too obvious. Instead I went with a more subtle, man-preppy brown and tan ribbon. Very sneaky. Next, I'm going to sew grosgrain ribbon with tennis rackets on it around the edges of all my knickers. Then comes the pearl earrings and broadcloth shirts.
And then before you know it, the Volvo station wagon.
Love, Fluffy
Grosgrain ribbon, grosgrain ribbon, grosgrain ribbon!!
Allow me to explain. I'm slowly transforming myself into a prep. If anyone remembers the Annapolis mall circa 1982, think Pappagallo. But it's a slow and subtle transformation. A little here, a little there. For example. Instead of wearing black converse sneakers, I now wear white converse sneakers. I bought a pink and green grosgrain ribbon watch band. I bought a grosgrain ribbon keychain, too. But I didn't get the pink one with the green whales on it (which I really REALLY wanted), because that is way too obvious. Instead I went with a more subtle, man-preppy brown and tan ribbon. Very sneaky. Next, I'm going to sew grosgrain ribbon with tennis rackets on it around the edges of all my knickers. Then comes the pearl earrings and broadcloth shirts.
And then before you know it, the Volvo station wagon.
Love, Fluffy
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