Monday, February 28, 2011

Take the weather with you, just leave the magnet!

Today after a long day of work (where, by the way, we were given ice cream treats as a "big surprise" in a staff meeting just like Michael Scott gave to his staff in that health care episode in season 1 of "The Office"), I strolled out to my car at 5:15 or so (lately I've been leaving work after 6 so this was a real treat!). The sun was still shining and for once it wasn't snowing so I decided I would be home in plenty of time for a short run. I was feeling positive about all I accomplished at the office today and well, just feeling good in general when I approached my car.

What is missing from this picture?

O.k., that is not a fair question if you don't personally know me/know my car so I will tell you. See that vast stretch of vacant space there? An oval JB magnet once sat there.

JB stands for the one, the only, Jimmy Buffett. I just realized I rarely blog about my love for Jimmy Buffett, which surprises me, because my love for Jimmy is timeless. It is eternal. It's like a religion. And, by the way, Jimmy shares a birthday with none other than Jesus Himself. Coincidence? I think not.

Upon first approach I decided the car may not even be my car...and then, upon closer inspection, I saw an oval spot, less salt covered than the rest of the car, where my beloved magnet once sat.

The anger swelled.

Never get between an honest to goodness Parrothead and her love of all things Jimmy Buffett!

I park in a "secure" parking lot, complete with cameras! I need a freaking swipe card to get in to the thing. There's even a rogue sorta security guy in a giant pickup truck who sits and monitors from time to time. Despite all this, my car was violated!

What rubbed salt in the wound? I called my mom (because who else am I going to call, really?) and she laughed!

This is not a laughing matter! I bought that magnet at the original Margaritaville in Key West. It's the mothership for Parrotheads. Every time I look at that tropical looking magnet on my piece of crap car, especially on days when I'm scraping off snow or filling the tires with air, I can't help but smile.

Every morning from now on I will have to face the sad, lonely, boring back of my car as I open the garage. I will wonder what happened to my beloved car magnet (I really did love that thing - I know it's silly). R.I.P., JB. I will miss you. I hope you have a new owner who loves you as much as I do...however, I have a feeling I'll be seeing you affixed to a metal object on the backpack of one of the local vagrants.

In the immortal words of Jimmy, I will simply "breathe in, breathe out, move on."

(P.S. On a positive note, my permanent crown is in place so no more teeth popping out! I know, I know, you were all really concerned about this!)

Friday, February 25, 2011

Show me your teeth (or in this case, tooth)

Somehow, I don't think this is what Lady Gaga had in mind when she wrote her song "Teeth" -




Today at work a temporary crown fell out of my mouth. This is the second time this has happened in less than a year.

That's me, holding my tooth. I really don't enjoy looking like a toothless hillbilly, especially at work, yet for some reason my temporary teeth always seem to fall out at work! Does it make me a hillbilly that I need so much dental work? Maybe, but since I actually get the dental work I think that takes me out of hillbilly category.

Yep - I'm showing you my tooth.

And this, my friends, is the less than stellar way I ended my less than stellar week.

P.S. Yes, that is my beloved Burberry scarf that I'm sporting!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Am I being P'unked? In other words, Paris and Lindsay you are not....

Last night I visited the salon for a much needed hair cut and color. It was unusually quiet for a week night, but there was a client in the chair next to me. When I arrived she was already sitting there with foil throughout her hair which covered much of her face. Judging the way she was dressed (like a slut) I figured her to be about 18 years old. A little sidekick with skin that looked like leather (also dressed like a slut) sat next to her chatting while her highlights sat.

I generally ignore other clients at the salon and did my best to ignore "Lindsay" and "Paris" as they droned on and on and on about "partying," how much hangovers suck, how "hot" they are, how not hot other girls are, more "partying," "doing it," tanning, "partying," and a little more tanning. They mentioned the name of a local community college a couple of times, reaffirming my guess that they were both about 18 years old.

The stylist told the girl getting the highlights (she's the "Lindsay" of the pair) that the color wasn't taking and the whole process would take longer than anticipated. That's when "Lindsay" and "Paris" both freaked out. "Paris" yelled, "Well, like, our ride is coming at, like 8? What are we gonna do?" The stylist, who herself is probably 19 years old said, "Why do you need a ride?"

"Paris" responded, "I don't drive yet."

"Yet?" OK, this caught my attention.

The stylist was taken aback. She said, "How old are you?" (emphasis on "are") and the response "Paris" gave? 15.

15.

Really? Yet she's publicly talking about sex and drinking like she's on an episode of "Jersey Shore" (I've still never seen "Jersey Shore" but I bet they not only talk about sex and drinking, they probably do both on camera - a lot) and thinking nothing of it? Wow!

The stylist then asked "Lindsay" her age.  Guess what? "Lindsay" is a whopping 16. Although she's legally old enough to drive, she is only allowed to drive ten minutes from home because she has already been in two car accidents. Since the salon is more than ten minutes from home she had to catch a ride. Not sure if this is court-ordered or mom-ordered but you now see why she's the "Lindsay."

Turns out "Paris" and "Lindsay" are from an ultra conservative suburb - one with a reputation for being uber-religious. They don't quite fit the stereotype with their leather-like skin, mini skirts and partying ways...but what I was most taken aback by was their ages. These two ding dongs are just, well, pathetic (and I'm referring to our Midwestern "Paris" and "Lindsay" not the real Paris and Lindsay - they've been judged enough haven't they?).

Was this sitation was for real? Was I being punk'd? These two clearly view celebrities like Paris Hilton and LiLo as role models but hello, this is the Midwest - no matter how short your miniskirt, how many trips to the tanning salon or how many times you say "partying" and "hot" you still will never be Paris or Lindsay...and you know what, sweethearts? That's a good thing! Get over yourselves, go buy a Hannah Montana poster (though I hear Miley is on the road to Lindsay-ville), download a Justin Bieber song (I just had to Google his name so I would spell it correctly), buy some non-slutty clothes at Hollister or some teey-bopper store and call it a day!

Monday, February 21, 2011

How I spent my President's Day (or How I spent $619 on President's Day)

President's Day used to be a floating holiday at work. A day I normally saved for summer - you know, a little beach, some yard work, etc. Our company made some changes and now, like the post office, we close to observe the holiday.

What to do, what to do? Some people took advantage of the three day weekend by going out of town. I imagine others went shopping, went to the movies, slept in, relaxed. I know some people worked anyway. That was my plan - to work from my couch. Oh, if only. If only.

Let me tell you about my President's Day.

It all started when the alarm went off at 6:05a.m. See, I made a 7 a.m. appointment with the doctor because I forgot my office would be closed on Monday. I had this great plan - see the doc and then hop across the street to work (literally, across the street) and start my day super early!

I dragged my butt out of bed and noticed that even though I cleared nearly six inches of snow off the driveway last night, my sidewalk and driveway were covered in snow like I hadn't even touched it.

No time for shoveling - had to motor over to the doctor where I did not see my primary care physician. I saw her PA. That's cool but here's the problem....if you read this blog regularly you know I get bronchitis - a lot. My doctor knows this. Her PA doesn't. And, since it appears he did not take the time to look at my chart, we had a disagreement about my lungs. In the end, I won and scored a prescription for an inhaler. After all, my half marathon is a mere 27 days and I cannot get sick.

Once home I spent nearly one hour shoveling my driveway and sidewalk. Heavy snow. It was daunting but I got it done.

That's when things really took a turn for the worse. I went to the basement to put some clothing in the laundry and found sopping wet carpeting. Upon closer examination I discovered the water was a lovely shade of brown.

Fast forward after a frantic trip to buy a Shop Vac and the arrival of the plumber.....it's my sewer line and yes, as I suspected but would not admit to myself, my basement is flooded with sewage. Raw sewage. My sewage, but sewage nonetheless.

Sewage.

Shudder. That word is right up there with phlegm.

No, it's worse.

So, here I am, plumber in my basement doing $619 worth of work to clear my blockage and clean up the mess. But the fun won't end there. After he leaves I get to rip out all the infested carpet. At least rip it out to the best of my ability.

I know it isn't the end of the world. But, I don't exactly have $619. I mean, I do, but I also have bills to pay and just spent nearly $170 a Nordstrom Rack on a new Kate Spade (she was only $70!! How could I just leave her there?), a Sweet Pea sweater and some new jeans - but all my clothes are too big, except for my skinny clothes which are still too small - I need clothing!.  Had I known raw sewage would be floating around my basement today I would never have gone to The Rack and would just keep wearing clothes that are too big. The plumbing company's web site said they take "all major" credit cards - so I assume they take American Express. If not, I will write them a check and just live on snow (since there is so much of it around) until I get paid again.

Monday, February 14, 2011

"Forget You, Cupid" the Sequel (in other words, Happy St. Patrick's Day!)

A few years ago my friend Heather wrote this and circulates it each year on Valentine's Day. She gave me permission to share with you - you will enjoy this!

"Years ago I gave up on St. Valentine.  I was sick and tired of seeing all the men and women that felt sub-standard because they were not with someone on Valentine's Day.  Sick and tired of feeling like I wasn't good enough for this guy who demanded romantic love from lonely people.  Wasn't love supposed to be every day?  Wasn't love supposed to be for everyone?  Why weren't we good enough?  This St. seemed like one sick cookie to me so I forsake his name.  In that resolution I realized one who didn't care who you were with or weren't with for that matter.  St. Patrick loves and accepts us all into his fold.  He will even grant you citizenship into Ireland if you aren't Irish.  He'll tint your beer green in welcome to this happy loving group of followers.  He has never rejected me or made me feel unwelcome even if I was alone!  So about 4 years ago I adopted my new saint for this unhappy day to give hope and love to Valentine's so called rejects.  For everyone, alone or coupled, I wish you all a very Happy Early St. Patrick's Day!  May you always see the world through green tinted glasses (of beer) and my you always feel loved by the greatest Saint of them all! "

Sunday, February 13, 2011

In the words of Cee Lo - "Forget You," Cupid!

Yes, "Forget You" or, you know what, even better...in the not radio friendly version of Cee Lo's hit song "F*** You." And yes, Cupid, I'm talking to you.

Valentine's Day is upon us and, yet again, I am sans Valentine.

I went to my local superstore yesterday (no, NOT Wal-Mart - I have standards) and saw men frantically searching through the Valentine's Day flower displays, desperate to find the right gift for that special someone. I gave them kudos for thinking ahead...but also thought how I would not want a Valentine's Day gift from a superstore. Buying an orchid because it is buy one, get one free at the superstore (one for mom and one for girlfriend? Shewd move, superstore, good move.) seems like something these men were doing just to do, not in the name of Cupid, Valentine's Day or love.

Love doesn't come from a superstore and, I will reluctantly admit it doesn't come from Tiffany & Co. either...

I think it's all part of Cupid's devious plan. I bet that little bugger owns stock in all the superstores and jewelry stores in the country, not to mention the FTD and hell, I bet he is the true CEO of Hershey.

Well, Cupid, forget you. I refuse to play your reindeer games (ok, wrong holiday but that phrase makes me think of the classic movie "Heathers").

Forget yoooou, forget you!

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Top five things I don't need to know about you (or your spawn)

I enjoy Facebook. Yes, I post status updates and I am sure I annoy people with them. I post a lot about running, complain about winter weather, cheer on my favorite college football team, etc.

If I am down and out with bronchitis or something I will share (via Facebook and blog) but I don't get into the dirty details...well, most of the time. There was that one time Gracie had bloody dog poo (in my defense, my house looked like a crime scene from it! I had to explain.), but beyond that I don't share information about body fluids or functions. However, some of my Facebook friends do not use the same restraint. In honor of those friends, I feel compelled to share the Top Five things I do not want to hear about on Facebook:

5. Your ongoing health problems that aren't real health problems. If you have cancer or something then yes, I care, and I want to hear if chemo is kicking your ass or if you had a good day. However, if you have something like say, a "mystery illness" and you just feel like crap all the time and use Facebook as a platform to complain about it, guess what, I don't need to know. Especially when you get all dramatic and say that you just don't know what is wrong and you're just so miserable. If you're so miserable and your doctor isn't helping, get a second opinion rather than trying to illicit pity from your Facebook friends!

4. Your mucus. Ick. That word grosses me out. Seriously! Spell it. Say it, "mucus." It just sounds gross. I don't want to hear about how much mucus you have, what color it is, etc. Period.

3. Projectile vomiting. It's bad enough when Facebook friends share, in detail, how little precious baby puked in their hair, on their clothes, etc. but it's even worse when I have to read about how said baby projectile vomited on the airplane, in the car or on a little friend at daycare. It's too much of a visual for me. Sidebar - as far as the airplane goes - as a frequent traveler let me say if it were up to me there would be family only sections on airplanes, if not family only flights, so people like me don't have to smell dirty diapers or baby spit. I'm a jerk, I know it. Anyway, what's worse than hearing about your child's vomit? Hearing about the vomit coming from you or your significant other. Seriously folks, a vomiting kid is one thing but a vomiting adult? That's just a whole new level of gross (especially if the vomiting is not induced by alcohol - if alcohol induced it's sort of funny and, therefore, tolerable).

2. Your child's exploding diaper. Seriously, I know more about the bowel movements of the spawn of some of my Facebook friends than my own bowel movements. I don't need to hear how your little precious one pooped on the floor, in the tub, on the dog or how he or she dropped a big bomb in his or her diaper. It's just gross, ok, and is not want to see as I scroll down my newsfeed while eating my turkey bacon for breakfast.

1. Your exploding intestines. Let me make this clear: I do NOT need to know if you have diarrhea. I do NOT need to know if you are constipated. I bet none of your other Facebook friends need to know either. I have nothing else to say on this subject because, well, there's just nothing else to say. What happens in the bathroom should stay in the bathroom, got it?

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Near brush with local celebrity

I always watch the 6 p.m. news. It's my thing.

If you've read any of my entries about running in winter, you also know ranting about snow covered sidewalks is also my thing.

Imagine my glee when my two "things" came together last night when the lead story on my local news was....wait for it, wait for it.....sidewalks in my city! Yes! Literally, my friends and I were just having a discussion about how I want run for city commission on a platform of keeping the sidewalks clear.

Anyway, over 60 percent of students in the school district here walk to school and the school district has been closed for an unprecedented three days because the sidewalks are not clear for students to safely navigate their way to school. Well, duh! I don't know where my city leaders have been....but sidewalks have not been clear all winter in many cases! Post Snowtorious B.I.G. incident this week, rather than say a few inches of lumpy snow blocking a sidewalk the snow is, in some cases, knee high and waist high. The only way some little elementary schooler is going to get through that is with a team of sled dogs or a snowmobile. Since I have never seen either of these things in my city, my guess is that the kiddies just aren't going to make it to school.

The story was great so I commented on the story online, but then remembered that generally, only total nut cases do that (for example, the story was asking city residents to clear their own sidewalks and these morons were commenting about how dare the local school system ask residents to come clear the sidewalks in front of the schools....uh, hello, that is not what anyone is asking!) so I sent the station an email of thanks.

In my email I also made two suggestions of what I would like to see in a follow up story: 1) the city needs to clear sidewalks on city owned property (like around parks) because they don't. There is a baseball field in my neighborhood and the city never clears that sidewalk; and 2) share how residents are supposed to file complaints with the city about people who don't clear their sidewalks (we have an ordinance - you have to clear your sidewalk within 24 hours of a snow storm) because the city took that option off their online complaint system.

Pretty cut and dry, right?

Thirty minutes later I received a call from a rookie reporter at the TV station. She told me she was doing a story on roads in the city that haven't been cleared yet and she was looking for suggestions of roads that have not been cleared. I told her that's nice but I don't know about any (and I am thinking wtf?). The exchange continued:

Reporter: "Well, I read your email."
Me: "Yes, it was in response to the story about sidewalks."
Reporter: "Right. Well, tonight my assignment is to do a story on streets that haven't been plowed."
Me: "Uh huh, I see, well my email was in response to Tony's story at 6 p.m. You know, the one about sidewalks."
Reporter: "Yes. Sidewalks. You said you run. So sidewalks are important to you?"
Me: "Yes, SIDEWALKS are important to me. That the SIDEWALKS are clear, yes. I was just writing to thank you guys for the story and make a couple of follow up suggestions."
Reporter: "OK, so where are the sidewalks not clear?"
Me: (Wondering, so does she think roads and sidewalks are interchangeable or is she changing her story assignment?) "Well, for example, I live on the Northwest Side - near Sullivan Field. The city never clears the sidewalks around Sullivan Field. I think the city needs to clear their own sidewalks too. Also, I want to see the city enforce the ordinance for residents and businesses too."
Reporter: "Yeah. So, can you give me an example of where the road isn't clear?"
Me: Total bewildered. Then I hear a click.
Reporter: "Please hang on for a second."
Tick tock...one second later....
Reporter: "Jen, it looks like my story assignment is changing. But thank you so much for emailing us, we really appreciate it. If I need to talk to someone about this later, may I call you?"
Me: "Umm...sure?"
Reporter: "Ok, thank you very much!"

The whole experience left me completely dumbfounded. Especially when, about an hour later, I was on the phone with a friend who had a very difficult day when the call waiting beeped. Sure enough, it was the TV station again. No, I didn't click over. I have no idea what the reporter would have been calling back about...but I am glad I had a great excuse not to answer!

Though, I must admit, it would have been awesome to get a jump on my bid for local elected office by launching my platform about sidewalks on the 11 p.m. news...even if it was during a story about roads.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Stranded

Like much of the country, I spent the day dealing with the Blizzard of 2011, a storm bring dubbed Snowpocalypse, Snotorious B.I.G., snOwMG, SnOPRAH, SnOBAMA, Snow Doggie Dog, etc. It brought 16 inches of snow to my city, stranding me in my home. And guess what, I am not complaining about being stuck in my home. For the first time in years I am actually home and not traveling during a Snotorious B.I.G.-type storm, and let me tell you, I barely made it. Originally I was scheduled to be in Indianapolis through Tuesday evening (they got four inches of ice), but, given past experiences, I high-tailed it out of there and made it home before the big storm caught up with me. This wasn't a matter of pure luck - it was the result of some rational thinking based upon previous experiences. So, let me share my Top 5 stranded in a snow storm stories. Seriously, The Weather Channel, pay attention! You could totally do a one hour special just on me!

5. Atlanta -  December 2009
I heart ATL. I really do. I especially heart it in the winter with its mild weather. When I lived there my office closed because one snowflake was spotted in the greater Atlanta area. It was heaven. Imagine how thrilled I was to have a work trip scheduled in Atlanta for two days in the beginning of December....until I saw the weather report for my home city. Sure enough, the day I was supposed to fly home was the day a ridiculous storm hit Michigan, extending my stay in Atlanta by two days. Because it was supposed to be a quick trip I asked a friend to stay with the dog rather than board her or ship her off somewhere....poor dog sitter! It wasn't all that bad on my end really- I visited World of Coke, the Georgia Aquarium and got a ton of Christmas shopping done in Buckhead....but when I arrived back in Michigan the roads were still so terrible I had to take an expensive cab ride home and shovel a ridiculous amount of snow to get the car in the driveway. Inconvenient but not the end of the world.

4. Indianapolis - January 2009
This experience was nothing short of miserable. Sure, on day one it was all fun and games but by day three I wanted to cry. In fact, I am sure I did cry! Nothing like being stranded with a gang of co-workers, including one who is totally high maintenance and makes your skin crawl to make you want to cry. We were stranded in downtown Indy so Circle Centre was our friend - we walked there, we ate there, we shopped there, we avoided one another there. Yes, fun times. A three day trip to Indy became a week long visit which meant running out of clean underwear (thank goodness for TJ Maxx) and running out of patience. Luckily, we all made it home unscathed. Eventually.

3. NYC - December 2000
My first trip to New York City. I remember flying in to LaGuardia that first time like it was yesterday. I fell in love with the city before the plane even touched the ground and wanted to stay indefinitely...little did I know my wish was about to come true. Sure enough, a big blizzard in Detroit left me stranded in NYC while all my travel companions made it out (Southern bitches!). Alone, scared and stranded in Queens, I had no idea what to do! I was not yet the seasoned traveler I am today, after all. For some reason all the nice, normal hotels by the airport were completely booked so that sent me scrambling. LaGuardia was under construction and the airline dumped my checked bag - sleeping on a plastic chair in baggage claim just wasn't a good option. So, I followed a family booked on my cancelled flight to a "hotel" (motel) somewhere in Queens. The cab driver totally screwed me on fare - he had the meter running at double speed. When I arrived, I had to pay a guy at a bullet proof window though a hole in plexiglass and explain that no, I was not renting BY THE HOUR, I was, indeed, like the family who just checked in ahead of me, staying the night. In my room I found a bed I called the 1001 Arabian Nights Bed - the bedding was, well, crusty. And the carpet wasn't much better. I pulled everything off but the sheet, covered the bed with towels from the bathroom and cuddled up like a scared baby for the night. The next day I trekked back to LGA, got re-booked on a different airline and finally got out of there. Oh, what a night! (By the way, if this happened to me today, I would pull out my AmEx, check in to the Millennium Broadway and stay until I maxed out my credit card - it would be a total sign to live it up in NYC. Oh, and I would stuff my face with as many Magnolia Bakery cupcakes I could get my hands on.)

2. Missouri - March 2001
After nearly dying in a car wreck, I was traumatized. If you're a regular, you read this story in March (if you're not, follow the link to the details of the accident)...but what I failed to share was that my bosses wanted me to leave the state of Misery, er Missouri, pronto after the accident. However, due to inclimate weather and the fact I was, in good weather, an hour and a half from the airport, I was stuck in the Show Me State. What I also failed to mention in the March entry was that though my 90 pound suitcase with my clothing made it out (because the rescue crew had to remove it because I was pinned underneath it), my purse and laptop (oh, the horror) were in the trunk of the car. The car was "too unstable" according to the rescue crew to try to mess with the trunk, so not only was I stranded, I was stranded with no purse and, gasp, no laptop until the car could safely be towed out of the ditch days later. I still have laptop separation anxiety as a result! It was before 9/11 and all, but I am sorry, Delta was not going to let me check in for my flight without my license and I sure as hell was not going to apply for Missouri residency!

and finally....drum roll......

the all time worst experience.....

1. Philadelphia  -March 2003
I was sent to Philly to cover for a lazy, bitchy co-worker who was too much of a waste of space to get her ass on an flight out of Atlanta and into anywhere with snow, even for an event she was ultimately responsible for planning and executing. "Send the Northern girl"- I KNOW that was the logic. Let me tell you, I had a giant Georgia peach sized chip on my shoulder to begin with on this trip....a chip that grew and grew as I watched the weather reports once arriving in Philly. Every time I turned on the TV or picked up a radio it was all about the "big Nor'easter", "biggest storm in decades," etc. Apparently, I was the only person from my organization concerned about the impending doom. Until the morning the storm hit, of course. That morning....oh, that morning.

To fully explain the situation let me take a break and give you some background: At the time I had two bosses. My immediate supervisor was wonderful and I am still friends with her today. Our "big" (and I mean big in more than one way) supervisor was, well, The Devil. I also liked to call her The Mullet because she sorta had one. The Mullet reeked of Escape by Calvin Klein (a perfume I once loved and now loathe - to this day the scent makes me want to vomit), drank out of the same Styrofoam cup for days (she once said, in her gravely, loud, manly voice, "See this cup...I bought it three days ago in Oxford (as in Mississippi)." It was three days later. In Atlanta (as in Georgia). It had hot pink lipstick marks all around it. She just kept refilling it with Tab. Gross. Oh yeah, she was totally addicted to Tab.) and liked to sexually harass me and my FEMALE co-workers (she once snuck into my supervisor's office where I was bent over picking something up and sat in a chair immediately facing my ass. When I saw her I said ,"Oh, excuse me Mullet (I will not use her real name, sorry)" and her reply was, "It's ok, Jen, I'm just sittin' here enjoin' the view."). To top it all off, she was just plain mean. Oh and lazy. Super lazy. Super, duper lazy. I think her number two hobby (after hitting on women) was sleeping.

Anyway, the storm was coming and hotel staff and local volunteers were warning us to get out of dodge. However, the final person who could make the decision about ending the meeting and allowing people to leave was...you guessed it, The Mullet. Well, The Mullet needed her beauty sleep (no amount of sleep can help her - trust me) and by the time she lumbered downstairs the morning of the storm (because I was told I was not to call and wake her under ANY circumstances) it was almost time for everything to end anyway. We sent our volunteers out into the horrible conditions. Many made it onto the last flights out of Philly, some who drove got stranded - some even got in car wrecks but were all right.

Six of us didn't make it out of Philly that day. I was one....but karma is a bitch because The Mullet was one of the six as well.

We were stranded in Philly for days! DAYS! The hotel ran out of food! We totally weren't prepared. Hell, I did not even have a winter coat with me. No one packed for an extended stay in Philly.

Luckily, my organization had some goods that were boxed up and stuck with me in the hotel, including various T-shirts, sweatshirts, etc. The Mullet came to my room on the second day and ordered, "Jen, go get me some pants." Shudder.

I, too, was out of clean pants....as well as all other clothing items for that matter.  I opened the boxes to find one pair of size large yoga pants. Those pants were never gonna fit The Mullet's fat ass and mine was pretty skinny at the time (and, according to The Mullet, pretty good looking) so I grabbed them. I did manage to find a long sleeve XL T-shirt that I thought might (barely) fit her. I also found T-shirts for myself and a co-worker I was bunking with. I put on my new, clean clothes and took the Mullet her T-shirt. She looked me up and down and said, "Jen, you're wearin' my pants." Oh, she was pissed. At that point I was tired, I was hungry and pissed off about the entire situation. I said, "Mullet, these are size large, sorry." Oops. I threw her stupid XL T-shirt at her and left. When she showed up at dinner that night (where we all drank water and ate saltines in the hotel restaurant), that stupid gray XL T-shirt was stretched over all her fat rolls. Even the cuffs at the wrists looked too tight. I just laughed and laughed and thought about how comfy I was in my new, clean yoga pants. Oh yeah, and as we all talked about the weather (because what else was there to discuss?) she looked at me and said, "Jen, for someone from The North, I don't understand why you make such a big deal about the weather." Um - hello! We're stranded with no food and no clothing and no flight out in sight!! Jackass. Not to mention, I had just barely escaped Missouri two years earlier working for this same organization. I'd prefer NOT to travel in a blizzard, thank you very much. Err - still gets my blood boiling! I believe I spent a total of seven days in Philly - three planned, four unplanned. I remember flashes of it (like a night too many martinis at the bar) but not the entire experience. That's probably for the best.

And, by the way, I still have those pants!