Really? Really.

Things that normal give people a rush of endorphins but for some reason just make me angry: Working out and Fridays. That's right. I said it. I don't know why, but for some reason on Friday I am just irrationally annoyed by EVERYTHING. I know. I'm a hater. And since I am filled with angst and annoyances, I'm going to blog about them. Because I can. Here are some people I am not so silently judging today, and to all of you I say:

People who sit on checks and don't immediately cash them. You have money in your hand!!! Why not get those dollas?!?!? Also, I dislike the fact that they give me a false sense of security in my bank account. I don't actually have that amount, you're just SITTING ON IT. Also, if you are going to send me passive-aggressive emails about how you 'don't have that check yet', but when I write it you proceed to sit on it for OVER  A WEEK...I DOUBLE JUDGE YOU. Why were you so eager to get it, if you're not going to CASH IT????????

People who wear unnecessarily tight button-up cardigans with hoods (what) and cowboy boots. I'm sorry, but if you want to strut around and feel manly and Southern with your cowboy boots...then don't wear a cardigan a 12-year-old girl would.

People who are overly nice to everyone. All the time. No matter how much they actually hate them.

People who use sugary-sweet nicknames in a work environment. 

She's referring to me. I flipped out.

Bloggers who write a whole post declaring they "don't care about the drama." If you take the time to write a whole post declaring how much you don't care, you care. And that's fine. We don't care if you care. We care if you pretend to not care. Be real.

BUT

There was a silver-lining on this dim morning. A GROUPON for BASEBALL. I've never been to a baseball game, but since it's STL's city-wide obsession I have to go. A few of my girlfriends and I are going on Monday night. You know what makes baseball games so perfect (in my mind)? 

Hot dogs.

Single dads.

I'm dreaming of a plethora of single dads, just looking for an attractive, child-loving woman who doesn't shy away from a hot dog. That's right, single dads, I'm here for you. And if you're not there for me...well, there's always the baseball players to fall back on. 

HAPPY FRIDAY. 

Link up your twitter accounts this week to share some blogger love!

There's a Job for That?

Remember when you were a little kid and you would hear a really cool job title or description and just be in awe. I can do that? I can get paid to do that??? However, some jobs...I'm still not certain why/how they exist. Some jobs just make me laugh. And I don't understand them.

Example A: that awkward podium man on Jimmy Fallon
You know, that guy who just stands/leans on the podium and occasionally laughs into the microphone or repeats a word that Jimmy has said, and then Jimmy turns to him and stares and half-laughs as if podium-man's repeated word just made the joke 80 times more awkward funnier. WHO IS THIS MAN?!?!?! AND WHAT IS HIS PURPOSE???

Extensive Internet research reveals he is Steve Higgins, "Announcer." Really? His bio is pretty impressive. Former writer for SNL and The John Stewart Show. And now he leans against a podium.

Example B: the person who films intro/mood scenes
Ok, this one is hard to name. I'm talking about at the beginning of a reality television show (think Kardashians), where they just show a random conglomeration of people laying on the beach, walking in the street, or drinking a soda on a corner. Or on Oprah's Master Class we're their filming rain while having an emotional voice over from someone talking about their life lessons. I imagine their biggest concern being whether the story calls for pounding rain, torrential rain, spring rain, thunderstorm rain, or just a light drizzle. Will it be hitting a window, or a puddle? Will a random foot walk through it? If so, who is the random foot??? Also, for every one person who picks the type of rain to show there is also one "rain expert" if you will -- their boss who approves it and says "yes, that is the right rain!" Do you think they get really embarrassed if their boss is like "mmm I think this calls for rain on an umbrella, but good try."

Example C: Reality TV Reinactor-Actors
I'm talking about the people who fill in for "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant." Talk about an awkward casting call. "We'd like you to be eating pizza and then suddenly give birth."

What jobs do you find insanely weird? 

Catching Up: Brunches, Weekends, Tricks and More

Oh heyyy. Wanted to share a little love and a little update of what's been going on. I know...weekend updates take place on Mondays, not Tuesdays, so..eh, I'll do it when I get to it.

Last weekend was a grand ol' time. I volunteered for my alum club's Fraternity Day of Service. Our fraternity's philanthropic focus (or "thrust" as the 80-year-old woman volunteering with me kept saying) is literacy. This year, we set up in a local Barnes and Noble and handed out stickers, bookmarks, Dr. Seuss hats and activity and coloring sheets to kids in their children's section. I forgot how much I love their kids' section. The other volunteers and I spent a solid four hours reminiscing about our favorite kid's books, coloring with kids and scoping out single dads (well, that might have just been me).

Sunday, my boss invited me and my fellow orphan-coworkers to Easter dinner at his apartment. I promptly freaked out and threw the contents of my closet on the floor. I told my roommate "Two gay men are throwing a brunch. I am not fashionable enough for this." True life. If I spent half as much time getting ready for work/daily shtuff as I did getting ready to go to dinner with two gay men, I might have a boyfriend. #whitegirlproblemzzz for dayzzz.

But the weekend didn't end there. No, no it did not. The glorious April Fool's Day kept the party going in full force on Monday. Here is a little summary of my awesome shennanigans:

-Joined forces with Miguel's, the bachelor who sometimes cooks, little brother who I affectionately call "Jail Bate." Convinced Miguel I sent Jail Bate a box of condoms signed with a note from Michael that they should probably have the sex talk soon.

-Told my Dad that I had gone up to my apartment and someone was waiting for me (WRONG choice of words. He had a heart attack and thought I got robbed/attacked). Continued poor prank by telling him RRR, of Bass Pro Shop and speed dating fame, got back together and were planning on moving in together. Father told me I was a little shit, but that he still loved me.

-But the trick to top all tricks was the brainchild of me and my lovely roommate, Alex. Alex and I decided to tell our boss that she was moving to New Mexico to be with her boyfriend, and that since I couldn't afford to live here on my own I would have to quit . She went on and on about how she would like to remote in and needed to be there to support her man during his residency. Much to our surprise, he simply pulled out this notepad and was like "Ok. Uh huh. And what's your timeline?"

We had more elaborate things planned, but he took it so seriously that we were completely thrown off. Like, really? We can just walk in and say we want to move and remote in and all you do is ask us what our timeline is? Can I remote in too?

We were thrown, to say the least.

What did you do for April Fool's? Any tricks and giggles?

Friday Letters

Dear Snapchat:

I have no idea what you are, or what you're used for. You're on my phone, and so far all I've managed to do is embarrass myself by drunk-snapchatting (god, so many new ways to embarrass yourself these days) a boy (yeah, boy from the creepy nurse-stabbing-me-with-a-needle dream) a picture of a moving car on a highway (no, I wasn't driving, obvi). 

Dear Lauren:
Thanks for trying to educate me on what snapchat is for. Even though I know better now, I will still assume it's to send you pictures of my socks, keyboard, and dirty hair.

Dear Ellen:
Thanks for backing me up that I'm not the only one who doesn't understand snapchat.

Dear people who told me working out in the morning would give me energy:

Dear readers:

I'm confused. Are we supposed to get healthy for ourselves, or for our ex-boyfriend so he'll notice and feel immense guilt? Pinterest is really throwing me off on this. 

Dear HR: 

Sorry I'm not sorry. This is my quiet rebellion against the quadricube.

 Dear people waiting for an update on the quadricube:
Today we played pattycake.

Aaaaaand I'm off to dream of cheese-covered bacon. Happy Friday!