Thursday, July 19, 2012

If I Were a Zombie (My Social Encounters Would be a lot More Clear Cut)

As I have faithfully documented in this blog, I am a magnet for weirdos (as a result, I’m really hoping that this is due to the “opposites attract’ philosophy, which would mean that I am not one of these weirdos…I just unfortunately attract them). One such encounter occurred at a church activity (I know this is so odd! Its not like there are a ton of oddities in Singles Wards…not!). I struck up a conversation with a guy and in a strange course of events (for me at least, for him it was probably very normal) the conversation turned to zombies and the impending zombie apocalypse…I’m not adept at handling normal social encounters, so I am extremely out of my element when these odd situations arise (which they seem to do with a concerning amount of regularity, which makes me think that the ‘birds of a feather flock together’ is the true ruler of the law of attraction…).

Anywho...back to zombies, because after that somewhat disturbing turn in the conversation, I have been hearing more and more about zombies. I was afraid that it would be the next creepy tween (and middle aged women) fad like over the Twilight books….but I’ve actually started getting into some of the zombie material out there. I watched Dylan Dog which was pretty cool movie and I’ve read a few young adult novels about zombies and they are just.... cool. Plus there’s no effeminate sparkling vampire stalker or whiny, extremely dependent, um, heroine? Protagonist? ??? Let's go with Main Character.

A few people have told me that I haven’t really gotten into the zombie genre…but I really don’t need to see all the gore and blood associated with zombies. I like my watered down versions of zombies, because I can enjoy them AND still be able to sleep at night (win-win).

Truthfully, my turn to the dork side, at least with regards to zombies, began well before meeting this bearer of the bad news of the zombie apocalypse.  In fact my interest in zombies started around last Halloween when my sister introduced me to “the zombie song” by Stephanie Maeby…it’s just fun (Seriously. Look it up). 

Zombies are just fun---although I still probably won’t bring up them up in conversation the first time I talk with somebody… I’m weird but I’ve learned to hide my crazy.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012


I have a confession to make: I don’t like cooking for other people. 

Its not the actual work involved that I don’t like (although clean-up is a beast); I like to cook and bake. I’ve always liked it.  One of my favorite things to do growing up was to help out my mom in the kitchen. (Admittedly its gotten less fun when I discovered that it is work and I have to do it to survive…).  

Baking for other people is stressful because there’s so much that can go wrong: burnt food, overcooking, undercooking, misreading the recipe, improvising when one runs out of ingredient, allergies---the list goes on and on.  On the occasions where I am guilted into making food for someone else, I tell them that everything that I make comes with a warning.  The sad thing is people think I’m joking….

I think that there’s an inherent trust laid upon me when I make something for other people. It’s a heavy burden because its not only a “don’t accidentally kill them” burden, but a “this had better be the most delicious thing that this person has EVER eaten” kind of responsibility….so yeah, with that much self-inflicted pressure, I don’t volunteer to cook very often.  I don’t admit to fully understand this feeling of “an inherent trust” laid upon me when I cook for others, because I don’t feel the same way when I eat food that other people have prepared.

Here’s the really insane thing about my cooking for other people phobia: I am no gourmet. Most everything I make comes from a mix….so really I’m shouldering Betty Crocker’s guilt should something go wrong.

I guess I should point out here that I have never killed anyone with my cooking.....although the  roommate who spat out my brownie almost got a beating….

Saturday, July 14, 2012

"I'm a barista" "And I'm a Chance. Both good families."

I don’t mean to brag, but I have a pretty glamorous job.  I mean I get to do hours of filing and get to be the scapegoat for other people’s mistakes and get to retrieve the boss’ morning coffee.
The last task feels especially demeaning.  I realize that in the corporate hierarchy my job  amounts to little more than a glorified secretary, but still getting somebody some coffee is not the kind of thing I thought I would be doing ever, especially after graduating from college.

This morning I went to the break room and poured my boss his coffee and took it in to him.  I returned to the break room because I had left the coffee pot mostly empty and there is a giant sign above the coffee maker which was yelling at me to make a new batch.

Seems like a simple task, right? Not so much. I don’t drink coffee.  I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.  The Lord has revealed a Word of Wisdom to help keep our bodies and minds healthy and strong.  The Word of Wisdom warns against use of alcohol and tobacco as well as ‘hot drinks’ which include tea and coffee. Because I don’t drink coffee,  I also don’t know how to make it..  One of my coworkers, was in the breakroom, so I asked her for help.  While she is also a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, she has worked at this job longer than I have, so I thought she would be able to teach me how to make coffee.  She attempted to, but she had a hard time remembering what needed to be done.  It was definitely an instance of the blind leading the blind, and when we eventually figured it out, we still weren’t sure if we had done it correctly.  

After that frustrating, harrowing ordeal, I returned to my desk, and the boss came out of his office and said, “You’re not much of a coffee drinker are you, Allison.”  I responded, “No,  why?” 

I had given him cold coffee that had been in the coffeemaker all night!  I was mortified! 

And then I was even more worried about how the coffee I had made would turn out…I gave the new batch to my boss, and as far as I know it turned out ok.  At least he didn’t say anything.  It’s entirely possible that the coffee was horrible and as my face was beet red for a good twenty minutes (at least) he might have felt too bad to make any comment.

By the by... the title of this post is a quote from an episode of Season 1 of Raising Hope--if you haven't see it, you need to check it out.

Thursday, July 12, 2012


I just saw that a prequel to the Wizard of Oz is coming out.


Didn't all of the important elements of the story already happen?

 Is it going to be about Dorothy as a kindergartner and the Scarecrow's progression from growing in a hay field to protecting the corn fields?

I'm just not a fan of prequels in general. Has there ever been a good one?  I can't think of one.

Why does Hollywood insist on ruining classic stories with stupid prequels and/or sequels?  

On the same website that I found out this troubling information, I also saw a headline stating that a 'Psycho' prequel was coming to TV.  I was too scared to click on the link....and not because of Norman Bates...but once again, didn't all of the important and exciting parts of the story already happen?

Hollywood needs to step it up in terms of their creativity.  Rehashing old story lines and adapting classic story lines into monstrosities that cast a horrible shadow over their classic, well-done forebears needs to be done away with.  At least that's what I would wish for if I had some ruby slippers.

Couch Potato

I wrote this a while back and just rediscovered it on my flash drive, so I thought I'd post it:

My new condo has new carpet and a new paint job, which is awesome.  The color palette for both is in the beige-tan area of the color palette, which is not my usual preference, but it creates a warm tone which is nice.  Also, I view it as a blank canvas to decorate with lots of color.

I’ve been looking for a couch for a few weeks now, even more so now that I've moved in and realize how much I miss having a couch.  I’ve been salivating over a couch I found online, it’s a beautiful floral pattern--which doesn’t sound like me, but trust me it is gorgeous.  Originally I’ve wanted a red, but not too red, couch.  The floral couch online looks like it has purple flowers, but its listed as red, so I’m not sure what  I would actually be getting if I did break down and purchase it. I love it, but I also think that it would be hard to find things to go with it.

So in the face of this indecision, today I branched out from online shopping and went to two furniture stores in the area.  At the first place I started wandering around, when behind me, I heard someone saying, “how are you today, Ma’am.”  Because it sounded so far away, and also because I don’t feel like I am old enough for people to call me Ma’am (sidenote: I don’t think that I will ever feel old enough for people to call me that…I hate being called ‘ma’am’ it makes me cringe) I continued to peruse the options, assuming it was directed towards someone else.  It wasn't.  After she called out to me again I turned around to find a saleswoman a good ten feet off, she hurried to my side, asked me what I was shopping for and then proceeded to take me around the entire showroom without my being able to tell her what specifically I was looking for in a couch, and then barely stopping long enough for me to touch the various couches, let alone to sit down and test them out.

            To be fair, all of the couches were so horrible that I didn’t actually want to sit down.  Okay, they weren't all horrible, but she kept pointing out tan colored couches that would be camouflaged in my condo.  Seriously if I had put one of those things in my living room, I’m not sure I could have found it again. I did like some of the models, but couldn't get past the blah color, so I asked if any of them came in different colors.  They didn't.  My trip was subsequently short-lived.  Fortunately she asked me if I liked contemporary or traditional style and she actually listened to my response so I was able to avoid anything with brass tacks.  Unfortunately she used my response of liking contemporary furniture to tell me that I’m a modern girl, something I’m still not entirely sure how to interpret.

            At store number two there were several salespeople standing around doing nothing, and as I shopped they continued with their busy schedule of doing nothing.  In fact one customer asked me where the table section was, which surprised me because I was wearing my overcoat so I didn’t think I looked like a store employee, and I was also curious as to why he felt I was more approachable than the employee-statues.  As I was finishing up the semi-circular route I was taking throughout the couches, which led back towards the front door, one of the salespeople told me goodbye,  which is odd seeing as how I wasn't that close to the front door (where they have an actual greeter) and I wasn’t done yet! It was wonderful customer service, let me tell you. 

            Store number 2 had a better selection in general, and had more color options, but the only couch I really liked was a red (!) one, but it was a sleeper, and I don’t want to spend extra money on a feature that I know that I will never use. 

            I know that I’m a picky person, but I didn’t think that it would be this hard to find a couch.  My biggest problem is that I’m anti- microfiber (don’t get me started), and I really don’t want to deal with the upkeep of a leather couch, plus it’s not my style anyhow.  (There do appear to be an abundance of red leather couches, which are just about the most hideous things I have ever seen in my entire life.  Do people actually buy these things?  I’ve seen them at all the furniture stores I’ve been too.  Are they so popular that stores keep stocking them, or are they so unpopular that they can’t sell them?  It’s a mystery.)

 I’m just looking for a simple fabric couch with a little bit of personality, which is a lot harder to find than I would have originally thought.

****update**** This story has a happy ending. While I didn't end up getting my red couch, I did get an excellent deal on some beautiful blue couches, plus I got tables and lamps all for the same price as the red couch I was considering.

Friday, July 6, 2012


I work for the government.  I got so bored just typing that sentence that I fear for the rest of this post. I had a point when I began this post, but that first sentence has summed up my pathetic work life a little too well and I'm not sure if I should even bother to continue. (Obviously work is going really well for me right now...).  Anyways, government buildings, like the one I work in, are sometimes targeted by disgruntled people, idiots, activists, and even pyschopaths (and in the case where the term "going postal" is derived, government workers themselves)....well at least that's what we've learned about in our security training seminars.

Today I was sitting at my desk diligently doing my work, when a coworker came by and told me the building was being evacuated.  (Kids, the lesson to take home from this is that hard work is rewarded, sometimes instantaneously).  I grabbed my purse and headed towards an exit, but the majority of my coworkers were hanging out the in the halls chatting and questioning if it was a real evacuation, a few people were leaving via the elevator (in an effort to get to their cars and leave before they were locked out of the building and potentially stranded), and others were sitting at their desks refusing to move until an "official" evacuation was called (perhaps they only considered an actual bomb going off as official?).

It was a well executed safety plan on many levels.

I headed to my department's designated emergency meeting spot and was informed that a suspicious package had been discovered near the building, hence the evacuation.  I speculated that the package was a homeless man's clothes. Roll was taken by our emergency team leaders, who were looking very dapper and not at all dorky in their official orange vests, with their clipboards and walkie-talkies (they were  very Dwight Schrute-esque).

Luckily it was right before lunch and after they took roll we got to go eat anywhere we wanted--provided that we could walk there, seeing as our cars were trapped in the parking structure under the building.

After lunch we still weren't allowed back in the building.

We waited....and waited...and waited....until....


There was a small explosion as the bomb squad detonated a bag of clothes (See! I am psychic).

We returned to work, but its amazing how tiring waiting around can be, especially when that waiting period stretches on for two and a half hours and has no end in sight. I was exhausted when I got back and all of my motivation and probably even my ability to work was gone. Plus it was Friday afternoon, when all of my motivation and ability to work competently is gone anyways---but I'm sure you can imagine how the forced evacuation would make these feelings multiply exponentially.

I not only survived the suspicious bag filled with clothes, but I survived the rest of the work day.  I'm thinking of having t-shirts made up....