Archive | December, 2012

Snark break: Acceptable footwear for the gym

21 Dec

I am, as of 7:03 p.m. EST on Thursday, Dec. 20, 2012, officially crushless.


This. THIS is why.

Yup. Gym God sauntered past me last evening wearing a pair of those FiveFingers barefoot running “shoes”. Inside. At the gym.

Just to be clear, wearing the above shoes is the 21st century equivalent of…

Wearing a dress so wide you have to walk through doors sideways. (Empress Elizabeth 1 of Russia, 18th Century)

Continue reading

Gift giving – a gene that passes most men by

20 Dec
Too bad it's so expensive.

This. She DEFINITELY wants this.

Brother-in-Law: (SMS) Do you think your sister would like to go to a Bon Jovi Concert?

Penny: (Internal reaction) AHH haaha HAahahha bahahahahahahaha. Have you met your wife? (Actual SMS) Ummm. I have never heard her say anything about Bon Jovi, so probably not? What does he sing?

Sister: What’s that face for?

Penny: Uhhhhh noooooooooothing.

BIL: (SMS) Ok. It’s My Life, Wanted Dead or Alive, Livin’ on a Prayer.

Penny: (Internal reaction) Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh so this is a gift for you. (Actual SMS) Hmmm. For what? I’m not sure concerts are really her thing (they’re kinda loud and it’s hard to hear). I know she likes intimate venues like that one where you saw Sara Bareilles.

Sister: Seriously. WHAT is that FACE? Continue reading

It’s here, it’s here! Another Gatsby trailer.

20 Dec

And you guys, Leo hasn’t looked this good since he was “king of the worrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrld”.

Trailer critique:

  • Love the black and gold geometric design elements.
  • Costumes? Excellent.
  • Tobey Maguire, glad you’re moving on from Spider Man.
  • Excellent use of Florence.
  • I rather like the “unpleasant” version of “So Happy Together” that some others did not. It was very effective mood music for the trailer.

Snaps for all.

Superfluous cheer.

19 Dec

Of the two of us, it is pretty undeniable that I more readily dive into the holiday cheer pool than my lovely co-proprietess. (Ed. Note: Holidays = hugs. Shudders. – Penny)

But we all have our limits.

There is such a thing as too many cookies.

Two Fridays ago was the off-site company holiday party at a swanky venue with an open bar. Yesterday was the department holiday party which was my duty to organize because that’s the sort of thing assistants get stuck with. Today is the management party because the only thing better than one yankee swap is two yankee swaps. And tomorrow is a project-group holiday party because the only thing better than two yankee swaps is two yankee swaps and a couple of secret santas. And just to be extremely clear, all of these parties are for the same place of employment.

Three peppermint mocha cakes, four gift exchanges, five thank you cards, and approximately 873,629,634 cookies later, I’ve eaten my weight in baked goods and  I’ve most certainly reached my festive capacity. Is it too late to ask Santa for a cozy hole to enjoy in utter peace and solitude?

Enough complaining, Self.

18 Dec

Prague State Opera House, nbd

You know those extremely annoying people who are never satisfied and constantly identifying areas for improvement? Yes… Hi, there! Hello. My hypothetical children are extremely relieved to find out that I am self-aware enough to determine we’re better off without each other and that I paid attention when my gynecologist talked to me about birth control options.

I’ve been complaining a lot lately; a lot of people in my life have been complaining a lot lately; we’ve been complaining a lot about complaining lately…

The thing about complaining is that complaining only serves to mire you deeper in the steaming mass of excrement that made you complain in the first place. (I think this is called wallowing. When I hear wallow I think pigs and mud. Enough said.)

So, I have decided that if I am going to complain, I can only justify subjecting my friends to a mud bath if I do something about my complaint.

One of these “latelies” has been the universal “I didn’t do this thing I should have done and now I feel like a waste of life at twentysomething” complaint. I didn’t study music more passionately; I didn’t read more widely; I didn’t get involved in this or this or that; I didn’t make enough effort to find new friends; I didn’t… the list goes on. (The list also includes not knowing enough about wine. I give you this aside to let you know that I am well aware of my own pretensions. Hell, I finished Tolstoy just to say I’d done it and read the New Yorker cover-to-cover each week. Judge accordingly.)

Specifically, I feel like I don’t know enough about the opera despite pretending to know about opera because, well, people expect me to know about opera. Continue reading

Bah and Humbug

14 Dec


Facebook’s INTERNS make more money than I do. Interns!


Work holiday potluck nightmare this afternoon.

This might make up for it all, though.

Commissary Blues

13 Dec

To the tune of Elvis Presley’s It’s Now or Never

I think I’m dying,
It’s half past noon.
My eyes are closing,
Lunch best come soon.
I care not how much I weigh.
I’m far too tired
To diet today.

There’s always salad,
But I refuse.
That wilted spinach
Gives me the blues.
Those olives smell wrong.
Who can tell how long
They’ve sat to ferment
And unleash that scent I breathe.

The sandwich station
Makes me depressed.
The whole-grain pitas
Are gross at best.
Pile those fries
Right on my tray.
I’m far too tired
To diet today.

One gooey cookie
Might be what I need.
It’s not my stomach
But my soul I feed.
Chocolate excites me
Oh Snickers, delight me.
I need to taste
Some candy in haste right now.

I think I’m dying,
It’s half past noon.
My eyes are closing,
Lunch best come soon.
I care not how much I weigh.
I’m far too tired
To diet today.

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