Reading her status updates is like listening to Garrison Keillor on A Prairie Home Companion (Oh lord, no!) or the Country Time Lemonade commercial voice who always declared that it was official: summer was one day shorter that particular year (every year, it seemed, and this always bummed me out as a kid). The updates are just so quaint and low-key and, well . . . kind of boring. But until IP happened to read one of her updates over my shoulder, I never gave them much thought besides chuckling a bit to myself.

“ ‘A diet root beer, a good book, and a lounge chair are all I need to be happy,’ ” IP read aloud from my computer last summer, pausing to look at me. “Is she serious?”

I shrugged. “Most of her updates are like that. Nothing exciting, she’s pretty much a ‘Happy to be alive!’ kind of person.”

IP ducked closer to the screen. “Oh god. Is her last name really Kabam?*”

“Yeah. They call her husband The Bammer.”

IP started laughing. “The Bammers! So exciting!”

So then he would occasionally read over my shoulder, or I would read her updates aloud, hoping for another enthralling and adventure-filled missive from The Bammer. And every time she would post another mundane status where she wondered if making out with corn on the cob was uncool, or greeting her snow boots with eagerness, or telling us she’s about to have a dangerous liaison with strawberries, IP would gesture grandly, pumping his fists, doing his best impersonation of Ed McMahon, or an enthused sportscaster, or the announcer dude from Jeopardy: “Oh boy! The Bammer strikes again! BAM! Thhhhhhheeeeee BAMMER!”

And then the kicker was when one of her friends commented on a recent update: “I wish I could be happy being so unexciting. Love ya!” IP and I burst out laughing. For me, it’s partly true: her updates are far from exhilarating, but they are endearing in a folksy kind of way (and I usually hate folksy). But she is honest and down to earth about her folksy self. Like her friend, we still can’t help tittering at her updates, especially in contrast to the excitement that her last name seemingly implies. Her friends also enjoy posting some light ribbing, but they all obviously love her. I don’t consider her a close friend, but I think she’s sweet. While we might poke fun, there are aspects of her postings that I actually enjoy (and app updates I don’t hide) because they’re actually of interest to me. Because, let’s be quite honest: I am probably as boring as she appears to be, and a lot less conscientious about other people than she is. She’s not the type of person I strive to be (no one is, really), but she is the type of person I like to know.

So here’s to many more updates from The Bammer, who brings a sense of normalcy to the idiocies a lot of my other Facebook friends tend to post. We can’t all be whirlwind celebrities jetting from Rio de Janiero to Greece in the span of three days.**

*Not her real name.
**No, I don't really know anyone who's done that recently.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

(I must add that I was guilty of disinterest at Dyn-o-mite!, but not at my client’s expense. My sins were more along the line of making my contempt for the place heartily known to everyone there while still managing to do the job within the crappy parameters I was given. I sometimes teeter dangerously close to that line at my new position only because I hate working with academics. Bunch of whiny non-know-it-alls!)

♦ I dragged myself out of bed this morning to go for a run and use my nifty Forerunner 405. As I said before, my training is iffy at this point, but I do want to start running again to build up my endurance. I initially climbed back into bed after the alarm went off, but convinced myself pretty quickly that I would regret this 45 minutes later when I realized I could’ve put in a nice three-miler instead of lying in bed dozing. Dozing is good but I want that endurance back. So I made myself get up, dressed, and out the door. The run felt very good – I took it easy and told myself that my old running endurance was not built in a day, just like my new-found strength was not built in a day. I need to take it easy, document my progress, and continue to chip away at the running laziness that has fermented in my soul these past two years. Documenting the progress will be easy thanks to the Forerunner and the foot pod.

As far as running races goes, I’m still thinking that New York will be a no-go this year. However, part of building up my running would be to ensure a strong performance next year. I would like to begin running local races as prep. I was thinking to myself this morning that running local races would be great, but the Metro doesn’t run early enough on weekends. Then I remembered that I am the proud co-owner of a beautiful new Mazda3! I can get my own ass to the race sites! So I’m currently on the prowl for an upcoming race that’ll let me get back into racing gently.

♦ My family is currently dropping off Mathgeek at MIT. When I last spoke to them, they were setting up his room and my mother was horrified. She is convinced, and was seconded by Mathgeek himself, that U-M rooms are much nicer. Be that as it may, it’s not the room that’s the draw, it’s the education. But MIT rooms apparently have air-conditioning, something which Michigan definitely does not. I don’t have much else to say except this: good luck, Mathgeek!

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

Kidding.  But the thing is, this is very exciting.  IP is taking a more relaxed attitude towards all of this, but he’s definitely doing his part to help.  Last night, he put together all the pictures that we have of us, or that we’ve taken of each other.  He’s also drafted his first guest list as we tackle trying to figure out the final list (we have already realized that maybe having that 50 person wedding we were talking about was a tad unrealistic).  I’ve been working on our wedding website (sorry, interwebs — no link for you!) and IP has offered to write his parts, so I’ve given him the username and password.  He’s also very analytical when it comes to banquet menus — the planner in me isn’t coming to the fore when I look at these things right now.  All I see is people having a good time, eating well, and drinking booze.  It’s helpful to have someone who’s on top of such details.  I know the planner within will kick in eventually, especially when I visit venues, but for now, I’m all googly-eyed.

Spreading the news today was fun.  At work, when I first arrived, there was no one around.  I actually kind of pouted — who would see and admire my emerald ring, damnit!?  I eventually chilled while answering two-week old emails and chatting with my sister over Yahoo Messenger.  When people did start to drift in, they all congratulated IP and me; they were pretty excited to see us engaged after seeing us move ever closer to this day for two and a half years.  People gave me hugs, pumped their fists in the air and squealed in delight at having been right.  I actually made one person cry with our proposal story.

I then called my mother just for the heck of it — it’s nice to have her so excited for IP and me.  Her first question was about the mariachi band we’d always dreamed of having.  Would IP and I be doing that after all?  I balked a bit.  I personally don’t know of any mariachi bands in Detroit (though there must be some), and the cost is probably pretty extravagant.  Mom offered to audition bands that she could find (by going to restaurant managers) and told me that the band need only be at the site for an hour.  “It’d be wonderful if you could have something from your tierra,” she said.  My land.  I agreed — I always imagined my parents doing an anniversary dance to Parece que fue ayer.  My parents are angling to pay for something, anything, and would gladly shell out for an hour of mariachi music.  My dad is insisting on paying for my dress, too.  They’re too cute.

I topped off the day by calling my Dyn-o-mite! buddy to let her know that I was engaged and to ask her to be my bridesmaid.  She accepted immediately, saying she was so honored — I think it’ll be a lot of fun to have her in my party.  I know she and Dorkus get along great.  I honestly don’t expect much from my maids — I want them to have fun, pick out the dress they want (I just ask they stick to the color scheme), have a fun spa day and luncheon with me, and enjoy the day.  I’ll write them both an email shortly in which I link them up and promise not to become a bridezilla; my goal is to be as low-maintenance as possible.  I will ask them to collectively bitchslap me if I do so.

So go the first few days of planning.  As IP said, if I keep this up, I won’t have anything to do for the next year!  (I know that to be false, though — I’m sure plenty will pop up!)

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

Portland, Oregon!

A lot of you are saying “Big whoop.”  But I know one person who is poofing out his cheeks, nodding enthusiastically and clapping.

However, back to the Michigan trips.  The first, which begins today, is to a) see my family and b)  be present for the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallowsrelease party at the Arborland Borders.  Yes, feel free to tell me how crazy I am for flying 391 miles to attend that, but also kindly bite me.  What you like isn’t always what I like.

The plan for tomorrow consists of seeing Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix with my siblings and a few friends, heading over to dinner, and then heading over to Borders for the release party.  And if you must ask, yes, I am going to go to Borders after 9am in order to pick my bracelet to secure my place in line (four copies, four copies!).  This is the third and will be the final release party I have attended, so it’s a proper way to receive the book and say good-bye to the series in that sense.  And I’ll have a lot of fun doing it.

The next Michigan trip, coming up on August 2, is necessary in order to see an old friend from Dyn-o-mite! get married to her longtime boyfriend.  If you’ll recall, she was my primary sympathizer and rival in the sweepstakes to get out of Dyn-o-mite! first.  I won that battle, but according to all the friends (there are five of us who would routinely hang out together), she’s won the war by getting married first.  We’ve been together with our significant others for approximately the same amount of time, but she’s also younger than I am—in terms of female cattiness (which dominates this group, I have to say), she’s the clear, unrivaled example of successful womanhood.  However, I make more money and my boyfriend’s hotter and buffer.  I say I win!

Kidding.

To be honest, though, whatever rivalry that was or still is present is felt entirely by the other members of our group, not us.  We’ve moved on—for my friend and her fiance, marriage was the next step; for IP and me, putting away for our old age is a more pressing concern than flower arrangements.  More and more, I just want to get married in my parents’ backyard (as long as the next door neighbor doesn’t bark at all the guests, that is).  While weddings aren’t always that fun, it’ll be interesting to see a western Michigan wedding—they’re supposed to be a bit more on the elegant side than the southeastern Michigan weddings I’ve seen.  And I get to wear my new Tocca dress, which looks amazing on me (if I do say so myself).  Open bar, too!  Woohoo!

And finally, Portland.  I’ve always wanted to do a Pacific Northwest trip, and this year, IP and I started to look into it seriously.  We finally got around to buying our tickets last night—we ended up spending less than we had expected, which was a nice surprise.  IP, travel planner extraordinaire that he is, will be putting together an itinerary of Oregon sites that we’ll hit.  We plan on doing a circuit through the state, with some possible detours into California, Washington and Idaho.  We might be traveling through Medford, Oregon, where my mother spent some time as a teenager; if the house is still there, we’ll drive by where she grew up.  It’d be nice to stop by the high school and find her yearbook photos, but that might be a bit too time intensive to happen.

So, nothing fancy coming up in terms of travel, but everything should be fun.  The next trip after that?  I’m told I might be sent to the South Pacific for work, so we shall see.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

• I am in love with a scale. Funny that, no? Most people hate scales, and up until a month ago, I was no different. But many workouts, fruits, vegetables, grams of fiber and seven pounds (less) later, I wholeheartedly adore my new Tanita BC533 Innerscan. My body fat percentage isn’t up to snuff, but we’ll just see about that, especially since I’m not that far off. Just wait, one day I’ll be trim and toned enough to kick my younger sister’s ass. Actually, probably not, that kid is petite but strong—she’ll always be able to beat me.
• I believe my complex is under the impression that I was born on May 15, not May 25. I have come to this conclusion since they’ve left balloons tied to my doorknob on that day for two years running. Not that I’m complaining—it’s a very sweet gesture and very much appreciated. It’s funny, though, that my village’s saint day in Mexico is my now supposed birthday—and as this blog and IP will testify, I’m no saint. It’s also funny because my parents have two birthdays—their actual birthdates and their legal birthdates (the day their parents took them to be “registered”, as it were, by the municipality, usually two weeks after birth). I now have two birthdays myself and other than the balloons, I must demand: Where the hell are my presents?
• I will not say much, but: Wings, Wings, Wings! Okay, I shall shut up now.
• But not for long, don’t get too excited.
• Something I’ve wanted to complain about for nearly a week (okay, five days): the Ugly Betty episode, “A Tree Grows in Guadalajara”. To see the city where you fly into to visit your grandmother mentioned is kind of nice. To then hear Villanueva, Zacatecas, mentioned is also kind of nice. However! It is not kind of nice when Betty and Hilda decide to travel to Villanueva to meet their grandmother aboard a stereotypical mode of Latino transportation—the dilapidated bus with no windows, bouncing over a dirt road from Guadalajara to Villanueva. Umm . . . yeah. Guadalajara to Villanueva? Is about a five hour road trip. The roads are paved, by the way—there’s really only one way to get there, and that’s Highway 54—paved, fools! And have they ever heard of Omnibus? All buses in that area of Mexico are pretty posh—air conditioning, movies playing, and definitely no one sitting in the back selling quesadillas. However, had they made it to Villanueva proper, Hilda would’ve been pleased—lots to buy and good cheese to boot. Don’t even get me started on the Spanish, though—the least they could do is find someone who actually speaks the language well! Hell, I wouldn’t hire me (what with my horrible American accent) to do it, much less a French-American actress (the curandera, for all you Betty fans). Of course, this won’t deter me from seeing the season finale when it finally appears on abc.com, but c’mon, people! Do a little research. Yeesh. (And yes, I get just as irritated when Mexican television makes assumptions about the United States and casts people who can speak English as Americans.)
• Scandal and ruin return to the Dyn-o-mite! world!  Well, not really.  Long story short: this is a story of five lovely ladies who became friends while working in the trenches of one of the most disgusting, sexist, racist and shadiest companies in the United States (if you’re a NASCAR, Grand Am, IRL, Champ Car or Truck exec, call me—have I got dirt for you!).  One friend (who, like me, escaped to far away lands) is getting married this summer, and it’s been the big assumption that we’re all going.  Fast forward to a round of emails in which four of us might be reunited this summer.  One person, who is the biggest homebody of us all and tends to flake out the most, has let us know that she might not make it to the fifth friend’s wedding.  Eep!  Yes, it’s for a family wedding, but two of the friends (neither is me, by the way) are infuriated.  Since these three are still located in the area, the two friends expected that they’d all hang out together a bit more—but the slacker friend never wants to do anything, and to them, this just takes the cake.  There’s been some weirdness leading up to fifth friend’s wedding, too—how slacker might go with her husband, but her husband will not attend and instead stay at the hotel room and watch TV (IP, this is not an option for you, hon, as much as you wanted to do that at your own friend’s wedding!).  Slacker will only get together with the other two if her husband’s out of town; slacker might be having dinner with three of us in July (hence the four-person reunion), but said her plans were tentative—which caused one friend to blow up over email to me: “We’re telling her TWO MONTHS in advance!”  I found it mildly amusing because slacker friend is probably the one I like the least, and I actually think it’s because we’re too much alike and try to outsnark and outsmart one another.  I also found it amusing given that it took nearly a year for my friends to pull it together and see me when I visited even though I visited five or six times last year.  I have to give slacker her due—even when she wasn’t able to get together with the other two she’s managed to piss off and me, she gave us a call to say hi.  So I can’t get too worked up about it except to type something, anything, onto my blog.
• Saving money on daycare, IP is staying home with Scorpie tomorrow.  ;)

Isn’t life exciting in WordNerdia!?  No, didn’t think so—Scorpie told me something fun better happen soon or else he’s going to sting me.  Or at the very least pop my birthday balloons with his pincers.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

I don’t have to watch a bowl game this year for work! Yay! I don’t have sit through three hours of boredom just to count how many times Nike appears on some jock’s jersey. Hail, Atlantis! No bowls, no bowls, no bowls at all. No Dyn-o-mite! to ruin my holidays. No Independence Bowl, no Rose Bowl, no Chick-fil-A Peach Bowl (though I must admit–Chick-fil-A’s grilled chicken sandwich is very good, and at less than 300 calories, not a bad choice for lunch if you don’t get the fries). Per usual, I don’t give a flying fuck that Michigan’s going to the Rose Bowl. Sure, I was hoping that they’d beat Ohio State only because, c’mon, it’s Ohio State, and The Daily Show with John Stewart was just there, so they’ve had enough fun for one year. But now that that game has been decided and there’s not going to be a Round Two (thank God)? Who cares! In fact, dear Michigan: I hope you lose. Love you, though, Department of English Language and Literature.

It is, I must say, so nice to not have to watch sports for a living. It is, I must say, very nice to not have to watch sports at all (except for you, hockey, I love you, too).

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

So said IP to yours truly. He is never one to encourage me to spend extravagantly, but I think my getting an iPod would ease his pain considerably. Since my poor iPod nano broke (err, got stepped on by my 1-3/4″ heel), I’ve been yelping nonstop about the noise in my office. Said noise shouldn’t be so irritating given it’s usually music, talking, and people asking me for help, but it is irritating because it comes from one single source who I cannot stand. Thank God she is not part of my actual company or I would be forced to hang myself from my cubicle somehow. Yesterday was the kicker–she brought in her four-year-old son, who then proceeded to ring a small bell for a good 20 minutes while she chatted away on the phone with a friend. He also ran wild, screaming and shouting around my cubicle. I desperately wanted to punch her. I desperately wanted to take her kid and march him down to the child care center on the first floor. Alas, I could do neither because, in one instance, I don’t want to get fired, and in another instance, I don’t want to pretend to be the mother of this obnoxious little kid. Thus I sent a message to IP complaining. He promtly called to soothe my anger and suggest that I get an iPod to block all this out. “Sooner rather than later,” he added, citing my runs at the gym and this woman’s tendency to be very, very loud. “Where can you get one?”

“Online, but also at an Apple store.”

“Where is there an Apple store around here?”

“Two Metro stops from me.”

“You should go.”

I think IP is getting a bit weary of my KILL ME NOW! emails. Yet, my brother is encouraging me to wait for the next generation of iPods.

Decisions, I tell you.

*****************************************

I just got back from a weekend in Chicago. I actually have been away from my apartment for nearly a week, something that made me a bit sad. “Good bye, apartment,” I said sadly last week as I closed the door. It was a rough week in terms of hours (many–yay since I’m hourly!) and stress–got to make sure everything goes right you know? Well, everything did, more or less. It is quite nice to be back in the D.C. area, but I have to say I didn’t mind Chicago at all. I did enjoy my long run there (yes, got it done–I rock the casbah) and got to do some shopping and general ambling around. Quite fun, but I ate too much.

I also saw a friend from my old Dyn-o-mite! days. IP was correct in asking if the entire conversation was a one-upping of each other, because it kind of was. This is the friend who was constantly dogging me about her successful job searches (not so much–I got my job before she got hers), frowned on my manipulation of the Dyn-o-mite! rules of vacation/sick leave (though she was quite content to ignore them when it suited her), and just generally tried to do everything better than me. In a snarky aside meant to make fun of my boss back then, I sort of let slip my salary range. Given her reaction, I think I’ve won the battle of who the hell makes more. There’s a reason why IP sees me as his sugar-momma to-be.

Going on, I invited her to our evening events, and my boss invited her out to dinner with us. She didn’t show up for either, nor did I get a call saying she couldn’t make it. I don’t really care that she didn’t show up, to be honest–it’s either because she was busy or didn’t want to see my kickass company at work. Whatever the case, I’m finding myself more and more disconnected from my Dyn-o-mite! friends. But my new company friends? I love them to death. This is the best group I’ve ever worked with, gotten along with. Period.

*****************************************

After this post, I’ll be posting an update of the Book List. I think I’ve read three since I last posted.

*****************************************

But that post will have to wait a little bit longer. I’m off to clean the kitchen, then sleep. Yes, you heard me, I’m one tired woman.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

I just paid $1.99 to iTunes and Bravo TV in order to download the latest episode of Project Runway‘s third season. Note: I paid. I didn’t use µtorrent to download it; I legally paid for my copy. If you could find it in your heart to team the hell up with iTunes already and offer me the greatness of Deadwood‘s last season, its two subsequent movies, and additional seasons of Rome, I would be a very happy camper indeed. I am more than willing to shell out some of my hard-earned money to see these episodes. You might wonder why I don’t sign up for cable, but c’mon–I’d get a whole lot of shit I don’t want and I’d have to go out and buy a TV. And wait for the damn cable guy, anywhere from 8am – 5pm. Not gonna do it. I will, however, give you $1.99 on a weekly basis. Get with the program, HBO Execs! Love, WordNerd.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I rarley log onto Yahoo! Messenger these days–after using it as the main method of communication for the Dyn-o-mite! empire (hah!), it’s not needed in the current iteration of my work life. I use it rarely to speak to family and friends, but I must emphasize rarely. However, whenever I do log on, I never fail to get one message that reads:

“Please send me a message when you’re out of the program.”

This comes from a lovable (not) doofus who I think actually live in VA but is employed by Dyn-o-mite! My friend who quit her job back in August 2004 still gets the messages when she logs onto her account–I guess the guy has never thought of deleting old employees from his list. Granted, I could delete him, but then he’d get a message saying that I banned him and that would just make the poor dolt feel like a sack of crap. Well, probably not, but I’m lazy. What I’m really hoping for, though, is a chance to–say, on Veterans Day or something–be lounging around my apartment on my day off, Yahoo! Messenger running. His message for us to tell him when we’re out of the program will pop up, I’ll tell him I’m not in the program, and he’ll ask if he can send me a proof. I can almost assure you he would ask; it would not occur to him to wonder why I haven’t been on the proofing list since January.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why am I still up, listening to music? It’s 10:30! I should’ve been asleep half an hour ago.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

The latest development, although it came about as a resignation and not a firing like The Tool richly deserved, nonetheless makes my former co-workers and me dizzyingly happy. Mayhaps the owners will see the error of their ways, as their little empire cumbles before them with employees leaving left and right and competition stealing away contracts? Nah. They’ll continue to live in their sheltered world until their own paychecks are affected. And knowing the accountant, she’s not going to let that become an issue for as long as she can help it.

Ah, those heady, exciting days at Dyn-o-mite, filled with queasiness and the urge to run, the air tinted with the smell of wet dog and cheap cigarettes. It’s a crazy time in my life when I watched too much TV (per force), knew too much about race cars, and saw too many 1980s clothing that wasn’t supposed to be retro. And I can never relive it. Memories. It’s the history of gore or some shit like that.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.

*So, the new Metro ads. If you’re a Metro commuter and haven’t seen them and you’re curious, get thee to the Red Line and check it out between Metro Center and Gallery Place, and Gallery Place and Judiciary Square. When our Metro announcer (driver? conductor?) told us to look out the window for a surprise, my whole train was baffled and did so. Most everyone burst out laughing while I could only cluck my tongue and say, “It’s all about product placement and maximum exposure.” The woman sitting next to me agreed, and while I failed to go into details or a long, rambling reminiscence about my work at Dyn-o-mite!, I thought that Metro Center and Gallery Place were the perfect places to debut the ads. Trasnfer points where you’ll expose the maximum (or close) amount of people possible to ads. If I could place a dollar value on those 15 seconds, then calculate how many passengers are on those trains, then multiply all that times the number of runs the trains made in both directions with the ads functioning, I could tell you how much the sponsor, not the Metro system, made yesterday. Oh, it’s a whopping number, I’m sure, and over time it’s probably way more than the $800,000 that the ads will generate for Metro over the next two years. Don’t believe me? Heh, you have no idea . . . When it comes to advertising, the big winner will always be the sponsor. But just wait: They’ll find a way to integrate the oh-so-valuable (really) mentions at some point. To be clear, I’m neither frowning on it nor giving it my way thumbs up, I’m just commenting that, like Michigan nearly did, Metro’s not making nearly as much as the two companies running the ads. However, the Metro and Michigan are two different things.

*Now that I’ve finished Sarah Vowell’s book on presidential assassinations, I find myself intrigued to go find not those famous places of political murder, but a book on the Fine Arts Commission. DC, even from afar, has always seemed a very though-out city, incredibly so, and I’d like to get my hands on something telling me about the commission’s history. I need to find that. Oh, i also need to read that Metro history book. Sounds interesting.

*Okay, off to bed. I have more to say, but no time to say it. I’m sleepy I need to climb into bed. Now.

©2012 Sonnet 87. All Rights Reserved. Originally published by WordNerd for Sonnet87.com. This post cannot be republished without express written permission.