My coworker told me that she was going on a vegetarian diet in order to lose weight. Like many other diets, I have quickly decided that this weight loss option is not for me. Unlike other diets this one was not rejected simply based on my lack of self-control.
I could go on a vegetarian diet, but it would be completely pointless, because my guilty pleasure foods are lacking meat already: brownies, ice cream, potato chips….
Meat is not my dietary pitfall. In fact, I don’t eat meat that often—especially if I am the one doing the cooking. I am by no means I vegetarian, but I have an aversion to touching raw meat, so I rarely prepare meat entrees for myself (I’m definitely more of a carb girl anyhow).
I guess that I could show off to people that I too am on a vegetarian diet, but then in a few weeks they’ll probably be asking why I’m gaining weight.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Crazy Ward
A few weeks ago I ward activity. This was my second week in this ward and I decided to attempt being sociable. I went up to a guy I recognized from my apartment complex and introduced myself as his neighbor. One of the first things out of his mouth was, “then why don’t you come to church?” which was said with a biting tone.
Sometimes I don’t know why I even try. Actually most of the time I wonder why I even try. Some people are so dumb, and rude, and so not worth the time or effort it takes to talk to them.
Needless to say I was more than a little taken aback by his comment, wondering why that would be any of his business as well as if he only found people worth associating with if they went to church? I kindly informed my new neighbor that I had just moved in, holding back all my snarky comments about how I’d been to church every week and then asking him why he hadn’t noticed me before (withholding from him that while I had been to church in this ward every week, I had only been there for two weeks…) and also resisting the lie that was forming on my lips about how I was inactive and had only recently begun attending again but after a condescending greeting like that I was thinking of not coming back…ever.
Thankfully, our conversation soon ended. I’m pretty sure though that if he ever does talk to me again, this great missionary will be asking me my name and why I never come to church, because there’s no chance that he will remember meeting me. I hate guys that like. I feel like a lot of guys at church, and other places, only feel its worth their time getting to know a girl if they are attracted to her.
Sometimes I don’t know why I even try. Actually most of the time I wonder why I even try. Some people are so dumb, and rude, and so not worth the time or effort it takes to talk to them.
Needless to say I was more than a little taken aback by his comment, wondering why that would be any of his business as well as if he only found people worth associating with if they went to church? I kindly informed my new neighbor that I had just moved in, holding back all my snarky comments about how I’d been to church every week and then asking him why he hadn’t noticed me before (withholding from him that while I had been to church in this ward every week, I had only been there for two weeks…) and also resisting the lie that was forming on my lips about how I was inactive and had only recently begun attending again but after a condescending greeting like that I was thinking of not coming back…ever.
Thankfully, our conversation soon ended. I’m pretty sure though that if he ever does talk to me again, this great missionary will be asking me my name and why I never come to church, because there’s no chance that he will remember meeting me. I hate guys that like. I feel like a lot of guys at church, and other places, only feel its worth their time getting to know a girl if they are attracted to her.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Do Not Touch
I am no priceless painting. In fact I probably fall closer in the realm to street graffiti. Despite this, if things continue on as they have at work I may have to get myself a personalized museum plaque to wear as necklace warning people, “DO NOT TOUCH.”
I have been at my current job for less than a month and already I have been rubbed on the back by no less than 3 different persons! I can’t believe that this sort of behavior is happening in the workplace. We are all on friendly terms, but I do not like to be touched. Also, the touch sends the message of a superior/insubordinate relationship, with the receiver needing to be comforted. And guess what: the person being given the unwanted back rubs is not the superior…
Don’t get me wrong, I am a closed off person and would not like these types of back rubs from near-strangers ever (some people might argue that my coworkers are not near strangers-but that still does not make the back rubs appropriate, ever. And also, these people would be WRONG, because really how well do you know your coworkers? With my coworkers I know a little about their life and family, but rarely do we get beyond small talk: thus they are near strangers).
Also, because I am a closed off person, if you are trying to be my friend by giving me a friendly backrub then you are approaching this situation all wrong, because it is deeply irritating, not to mention super AWKWARD, thus, not the best approach to becoming my new BFF. Also, if you can’t read the signals that you are making me incredibly uncomfortable such as my shoulders hunching up and me trying to escape into the floor, I question your IQ level and probably don’t want to be friends with you anyways.
So folks, hands off and do not touch. This no touching policy* is not limited to back rubs, but includes pretty much all forms physical contact, and perhaps most especially hugs.
*Policy is not as strictly enforced when it comes to close friends and family and most especially to attractive persons of the opposite sex.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Hijacked Lunch
I generally like my coworkers. Some are more annoying than others, but I get along well with them all. Although for the most part, these are not individuals that I would choose to hang out with after work…or during work… or ever….
One woman today tried to cross that line. I was sitting in the break room waiting for my yummy leftovers (fetuucine alfredo) to finish their circular journey inside the microwave when my coworker sat down across the table from me. This was my own fault as I had not prepared myself for an enjoyable lunch hour by spreading out my purse and water bottle and book across the table, marking my territory as I typically do. In fact my book was still in my purse, and once she sat down I felt like too big of a jerk to pull it out and start reading (although I’m not sure she’d get the hint even at that point that I would prefer to be left alone).
Now I am not so anti-social as to never want to eat lunch with anyone, but my lunch hour only lasts 60 precious minutes. Minutes which go by at least three times faster than regular minutes, so really I only have a 20 minute lunch, so I’d rather have it planned out before hand that we are going to eat lunch together. Actually, its not so much the fact that I have no time to prepare for this type of social situation, as it is the fact that the conversation (a word I am using VERY loosely here) was centered solely on her. In fact she just told me stories of her past, with me nodding and “hmming” every once in a while. As she relayed her past without ever once asking me anything about myself, I was nearly to my breaking point, and considered stabbing myself with my fork (which would have been less painful than hearing all of her stories).
Fortunately I didn't have to impale myself with a fork to get her to stop. My unwanted tour down her Memory Lane ended abruptly when she had to get back to work, having started her lunch a half hour earlier than me.
I'm generally a nice person and I will willingly listen to your (probably stupid) stories, for hours on end, but it would be nice if people at least pretended to take some interest in hearing some of of my (most definitely stupid) stories as well. I feel like conversation is about give and take, but most people just focus on the giving (and this is the one case in which giving is not a selfless act). In my coworker's case she not only focused on the giving part by relaying her past experiences , but decided to bestow this gift on me repeatedly by retelling the same stories within the same half hour period in which she hijacked my lunch break.
The art of conversation has truly become a lost art. A fact which I attribute to texting and the rise in narcissitic behavior in society.
One woman today tried to cross that line. I was sitting in the break room waiting for my yummy leftovers (fetuucine alfredo) to finish their circular journey inside the microwave when my coworker sat down across the table from me. This was my own fault as I had not prepared myself for an enjoyable lunch hour by spreading out my purse and water bottle and book across the table, marking my territory as I typically do. In fact my book was still in my purse, and once she sat down I felt like too big of a jerk to pull it out and start reading (although I’m not sure she’d get the hint even at that point that I would prefer to be left alone).
Now I am not so anti-social as to never want to eat lunch with anyone, but my lunch hour only lasts 60 precious minutes. Minutes which go by at least three times faster than regular minutes, so really I only have a 20 minute lunch, so I’d rather have it planned out before hand that we are going to eat lunch together. Actually, its not so much the fact that I have no time to prepare for this type of social situation, as it is the fact that the conversation (a word I am using VERY loosely here) was centered solely on her. In fact she just told me stories of her past, with me nodding and “hmming” every once in a while. As she relayed her past without ever once asking me anything about myself, I was nearly to my breaking point, and considered stabbing myself with my fork (which would have been less painful than hearing all of her stories).
Fortunately I didn't have to impale myself with a fork to get her to stop. My unwanted tour down her Memory Lane ended abruptly when she had to get back to work, having started her lunch a half hour earlier than me.
I'm generally a nice person and I will willingly listen to your (probably stupid) stories, for hours on end, but it would be nice if people at least pretended to take some interest in hearing some of of my (most definitely stupid) stories as well. I feel like conversation is about give and take, but most people just focus on the giving (and this is the one case in which giving is not a selfless act). In my coworker's case she not only focused on the giving part by relaying her past experiences , but decided to bestow this gift on me repeatedly by retelling the same stories within the same half hour period in which she hijacked my lunch break.
The art of conversation has truly become a lost art. A fact which I attribute to texting and the rise in narcissitic behavior in society.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Sleep is Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
I like soft beds and warm blankets, I like nighttime with stars peeking out from a dark sky. I like sleeping in. I like naps. I like the contented, restful feeling I have after a good night’s sleep.
With that said, I have a confession to make: I resent the fact that I have to sleep.
Fun fact: Humans sleep away a third of their lives. Not so fun fact: Humans sleep away a THIRD of their lives. That means that the typical 90 year old will have slept away 30 years of his life! I resent that 1/3 of my time that I could be doing anything else has to be devoted to sleeping. That’s why I delay going to sleep. I love to stay up late, and while I'm typically not the kind of girl who bounces out of bed at 4 am, I also refuse to sleep in too late in the mornings, because I hate wasting my day sleeping.
Its weird that I resent sleep because its not like I have anything pressing or exciting that I need or should be doing during my night time hours, but in a way I guess I feel like having to sleep is making me miss out on something, even if it is probably only late night infomercials (which can be very entertaining…I think I’ve seen the Magic Bullet infomercial about a thousand times and I still find it hilarious).
With that said, I have a confession to make: I resent the fact that I have to sleep.
Fun fact: Humans sleep away a third of their lives. Not so fun fact: Humans sleep away a THIRD of their lives. That means that the typical 90 year old will have slept away 30 years of his life! I resent that 1/3 of my time that I could be doing anything else has to be devoted to sleeping. That’s why I delay going to sleep. I love to stay up late, and while I'm typically not the kind of girl who bounces out of bed at 4 am, I also refuse to sleep in too late in the mornings, because I hate wasting my day sleeping.
Its weird that I resent sleep because its not like I have anything pressing or exciting that I need or should be doing during my night time hours, but in a way I guess I feel like having to sleep is making me miss out on something, even if it is probably only late night infomercials (which can be very entertaining…I think I’ve seen the Magic Bullet infomercial about a thousand times and I still find it hilarious).
Chivalry isn’t dead…its just never directed at me
I love it when guys open doors for me. I think its very respectful and classy. I am not exaggerating when I say that it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and puts a smile on my face. I do have some exceptions though for when I don’t fully appreciate guys opening the door for me.
Some guys are extra chivalrous and if they spot me, even if I am 20 yards away, they will patiently hold the door open while I cross that distance. I appreciate the effort, but I don’t want them to have to wait for me to walk to the door, and so in this situation, I’d prefer it if they would just let me open the door myself.
In high school as I was walking into the building, one young “gentlemen” was walking a few steps ahead of me. I’m not the kind of girl who insists on having the door held open for her, and I certainly don’t expect it (because there are so many guys who don’t even bother) but I was watching this guy to see if he would hold the door open for me. He didn’t disappoint—but not because he opened the door for me, rather because what he did do was so off-putting that it was entertaining. He walked through the door, kicked it, so that it would stay open a little longer and continued on his way without pause. I have never forgotten that. I thought it was funny and wondered why he even bothered. Holding the door open for a girl is a sign of respect and his way of holding the door open was certainly not respectful, so I’m wondering why he even bothered to expend the energy he did to kick open the door for me.
The most common door opening mistakes that I’ve noticed are centered around the car door. I love when guys hold the car door open for me to get into the car—but I hate when guys want to open the car door open for me to get out. Waiting inside the car is just awkward, mmkay?
Speaking of car door opening etiquette (Allison’s version, which means that it is the CORRECT AND ONLY VERSION TO BE FOLLOWED!!), the other day I inadvertently became the third wheel to my roommate and her boyfriend. Usually I am extremely crafty and can avoid and get out of these situations. This particular situation was particularly sticky and I was unable to extricate myself. I survived (barely) and also came away with fodder for this blog (lovely). My roommate’s boyfriend opened the car door for my roommate, walked past me, around the back of the car and got in the driver’s side door. Opening the door should apply to ALL women—not just the ones you are dating or are interested in dating. If I’d been on the other side of the car I probably wouldn’t have cared as much because I could have gotten into the vehicle sooner than having to wait for him to come open the driver’s side passenger door for me, but he was RIGHT THERE by my door and should have opened it for me. I know that I would have been impressed with him, and if I had been in my roommate’s shoes I definitely would have liked my boyfriend to have done that for my friend.
Some guys are extra chivalrous and if they spot me, even if I am 20 yards away, they will patiently hold the door open while I cross that distance. I appreciate the effort, but I don’t want them to have to wait for me to walk to the door, and so in this situation, I’d prefer it if they would just let me open the door myself.
In high school as I was walking into the building, one young “gentlemen” was walking a few steps ahead of me. I’m not the kind of girl who insists on having the door held open for her, and I certainly don’t expect it (because there are so many guys who don’t even bother) but I was watching this guy to see if he would hold the door open for me. He didn’t disappoint—but not because he opened the door for me, rather because what he did do was so off-putting that it was entertaining. He walked through the door, kicked it, so that it would stay open a little longer and continued on his way without pause. I have never forgotten that. I thought it was funny and wondered why he even bothered. Holding the door open for a girl is a sign of respect and his way of holding the door open was certainly not respectful, so I’m wondering why he even bothered to expend the energy he did to kick open the door for me.
The most common door opening mistakes that I’ve noticed are centered around the car door. I love when guys hold the car door open for me to get into the car—but I hate when guys want to open the car door open for me to get out. Waiting inside the car is just awkward, mmkay?
Speaking of car door opening etiquette (Allison’s version, which means that it is the CORRECT AND ONLY VERSION TO BE FOLLOWED!!), the other day I inadvertently became the third wheel to my roommate and her boyfriend. Usually I am extremely crafty and can avoid and get out of these situations. This particular situation was particularly sticky and I was unable to extricate myself. I survived (barely) and also came away with fodder for this blog (lovely). My roommate’s boyfriend opened the car door for my roommate, walked past me, around the back of the car and got in the driver’s side door. Opening the door should apply to ALL women—not just the ones you are dating or are interested in dating. If I’d been on the other side of the car I probably wouldn’t have cared as much because I could have gotten into the vehicle sooner than having to wait for him to come open the driver’s side passenger door for me, but he was RIGHT THERE by my door and should have opened it for me. I know that I would have been impressed with him, and if I had been in my roommate’s shoes I definitely would have liked my boyfriend to have done that for my friend.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Hair
I hate hair. Let me specify. I hate that I can’t do hair and I am jealous of pretty much every other girl’s hair. Usually I can tolerate my hair, so that’s actually not quite what I am going to write about. I have been losing an exhorbitant amount of hair lately. Unfortunately, I am not kidding. All day long I am pulling stray strands off of my clothing, and when I brush through my hair with either my fingers or my brush there are literally handfuls of my not-so-golden locks (by the by, I just watched Tangled in the park tonight, it was fun, but I hate how they portray Brown hair as unmagical. I told that to my cousin the first time we watched it, because although I had really enjoyed the movie I was a little put out by the whole brown hair is not magical or special. My cousin told me that only I would ever think of something like that. I’m not sure if that was a compliment or not…I was slightly pleased with myself at the time, but now I just feel slightly crazy for overanalyzing everything.)
Anyway, if there is anything that I can tolerate LESS than my treacherously messy and uncontrollable locks is when they are no longer attached to my head. Hair grosses me out. Ugh. I think that I’ll have to come up with a new number one thing on my list of qualities my future husband must have. I need someone who is not afraid to snake the drain—because, let’s be honest, I am too afraid and grossed out to do it, and at the current rate I am losing hair I really need a guy who will have the courage to stand up to the sludgy grossness clogging up my tub.
Hair on my head: fine. Hair off my head: gross, hair off of other people’s head: I need to vomit.
I don’t know why hair grosses me out so much but it really does. I also have issues with facial hair. Obviously I dislike it on me, but I am really opposed to almost all facial hair on almost all men. Obviously there are exceptions, but I think that we can all agree on doing away with the full beard. Not attractive on anyone, and I had a psychology professor who shared the horrific tale of how he grew a beard, maintained it really well, but had to shave it off soon after because it had an ODOR. SICK!!!
On the other hand, I find it creepy when people shave EVERYTHING. Exhibit A: Swimmers, more specifically male swimmers (Men should not have smoother legs than me!). Apparently there is a fine line between having too much hair and not having enough, but it’s an issue that is troubling enough for me to write a blog post about it, so obviously it is a fine line that everyone needs to learn how to walk. So I expect all two* of my readers to go out and either get a razor or Rogaine and attempt to walk that line.
*Although the incidents portrayed in this post are 100 percent accurate and truthful, I cannot determine for sure how many readers I have , but would guess that the true number lies at about 0ne, unless it is considered acceptable to count my various personalities, who are all as fastidiously groomed as I am and are as freaked out by hair as me, because we are in fact the same person.
Anyway, if there is anything that I can tolerate LESS than my treacherously messy and uncontrollable locks is when they are no longer attached to my head. Hair grosses me out. Ugh. I think that I’ll have to come up with a new number one thing on my list of qualities my future husband must have. I need someone who is not afraid to snake the drain—because, let’s be honest, I am too afraid and grossed out to do it, and at the current rate I am losing hair I really need a guy who will have the courage to stand up to the sludgy grossness clogging up my tub.
Hair on my head: fine. Hair off my head: gross, hair off of other people’s head: I need to vomit.
I don’t know why hair grosses me out so much but it really does. I also have issues with facial hair. Obviously I dislike it on me, but I am really opposed to almost all facial hair on almost all men. Obviously there are exceptions, but I think that we can all agree on doing away with the full beard. Not attractive on anyone, and I had a psychology professor who shared the horrific tale of how he grew a beard, maintained it really well, but had to shave it off soon after because it had an ODOR. SICK!!!
On the other hand, I find it creepy when people shave EVERYTHING. Exhibit A: Swimmers, more specifically male swimmers (Men should not have smoother legs than me!). Apparently there is a fine line between having too much hair and not having enough, but it’s an issue that is troubling enough for me to write a blog post about it, so obviously it is a fine line that everyone needs to learn how to walk. So I expect all two* of my readers to go out and either get a razor or Rogaine and attempt to walk that line.
*Although the incidents portrayed in this post are 100 percent accurate and truthful, I cannot determine for sure how many readers I have , but would guess that the true number lies at about 0ne, unless it is considered acceptable to count my various personalities, who are all as fastidiously groomed as I am and are as freaked out by hair as me, because we are in fact the same person.
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