Work Posts!

So I'm posting at work, which I have previously abstained from... since I don't want to get fired, but let's be honest- I spend a lot of time on other sites and have made it this far. Let's hope the boss doesn't google "the great kali llama" and finds this little piece of evidence!

But I have an issue with something: anything that reaffirms why a girl doesn't have a boyfriend.

I'm talking about all those "bumper stickers" and "flair" on facebook, all the avatars and signatures people have in forums. I have pulled a small sampling for you, then we shall move on to my rant.

Small Sampling:
Rant: Honestly hon? I think it's you. I think they see this and mark you as crazy and move on to an uncrazy girl. All this is, is an excuse as to why you are still single.
"Hey desperate girl, why don't you have a boyfriend?" "Oh, it's not me, it's their stupid boy penises." or "Oh, they think they aren't good enough for me."

Right, all the boys on the planet got together and decided you were SOOO amazing that they would form a club to honor you instead. I bet this is why you don't get any flowers either.

Thankfully, some girls like to clarify their desperation with this:

Ahh, now I understand. A nice, man of God won't do. Noooo- you want the sexy ones. Hon, I seriously doubt that the Chip-n-Dale dancers are too religious.

Friends, I know you. I know why you are still single. I have one friend who isn't dating right now as she gets her life and career in place- good for her. She doesn't blame it on not yet finding that sexy man of God who also thinks he's good enough for you.

Conclusion: When you have these types of things littering your online profiles, you are saying "I'm single and I don't know why! Maybe someone will believe this sticker! There, THAT shows THEM!"

Unless you and we as the collective public are as delusional as she is thinking that sash really hides her hips and thunder thighs, then no. We don't believe you. Wash that desperation off and start again.

If You Give A Mouse A Cookie... He's Going to Want A Pair of Shoes

So I'm baking cookies to take to work. As we speak my forth batch is sizzling away.

Sadly, my batches have had some uphill battles thus far.

I started and I wanted to make some white chocolate chip with craisons cookies. I'm adding in my flour mixture and the mixer honestly COUGHS it back up.

::COUGH::WHITE CLOUD::DAMN, I JUST CLEANED UP MY LAST SPILL::COUGH::

Then I forgot when to add the eggs in, so I called Mom and she told and my cookies were safe. Whew, wish my counter could say the same thing- cracking the egg in the flour mixture coughed up on the counter made a lovely paste, just in case you were wondering

I thought this would be it. I thought I wouldn't have any issues with proper cookie sizes. Apparently I love HUGE cookies that fall off the cookie sheet and run into other cookies (these cookies never learned about personal space).

In case you were wondering the main problem with BIG cookies is it's very hard to cook them all the way through without burning them.
So the first batch is undercooked with hard edges.
The second is almost black- but came off the cookie sheet ok... first batch wanted to stay on the sheet.
The third batch I made smaller (finally) and it came out decent. Best yet for sure... then whilst transferring the cookies from the cookie sheet to the box I'm going to take them in ::BAM:: it fell on the floor.

I picked it up, brushed it off and put it in the box! I didn't have enough pretty ones to lose one to the floor!

Report: I just got my forth batch out- burned. again. this is friggin unreal.

I'm working on my fifth batch right now- it only has 3 cookies on it. Hopefully 1 can turn out decent.

My co-workers are going to think I'm a terrible cook who burns her cookies! That's not the kinda thing you want your co-workers thinking about your cookies!

"Kali, she's the kind of girl who can bake a mean batch of cookies. And we love her shoes!"

I guess I should finally post about my new job. My new desk. My new work phone with my recorded voice apologizing for not being available.

My blank office with nothing but 2 desks, 2 computers with clicking keyboards.

And Chad.
He would be the reason the other keyboard is clicking.

Turns out, we are copywriters. That's right, I write copy. And yes Mimi, this is something I was "trained at school" to do. Who knew?

I started this job off with a 60 hour seminar crammed into 5 days. You do the math- it was hectic. However, I walked away with a new appreciation for marketing for small businesses, people who wake up at 5 a.m. and the front desk guy who sold energy drinks.

Turns out the boss/owner is away this week, the HR lady is on vacation the the other owner got bought out last week (my boss rules). This means, that no one in the office is quite sure what Chad and I do... but they think it will be good. This also means they are leaving us alone.

Except when Dale decides that he wants to prance by our door. Dale only knows one prance.
Josh wants to feel included and sent me a monkey talking about how he was the coolest employee in an email.

Because I Told Him I Would...

This past Saturday my dear friend Krystle had a freaking huge charity auction.
It was black tie, and I needed something to wear.

Naturally I waited until the last minute to see if I could fit into my dress. But before I tried I also realized that I didn't have shoes, jewelery or the proper undergarments to force me into the dress if needed. So the day before (that would be Friday for those of you unable to count backwards) I had to work.

So, I bought the following on trial basis: 2 pairs of shoes, 3 pairs of earrings and 2 pieces of undergarments.

I didn't fit into the dress.
My hair wasn't up to par.
My life was in shambles.

Thankfully I recovered last minute and found another dress I owned, in which I already owned shoes, earrings and undergarments.

I looked ravishing.

I went to the event. Bid on a few things only to be promptly outbid. I had a great time. Krystle is worth millions and everyone should want her to organize their charity auction.

Krystle, her boy Chris and myself all went out afterwards in celebration of an event done well, and I stayed the night at her fabulous townhouse.

I come home the next day around noon, disheveled and sleepy only to see my front door wide open. Wide.

Barely get the car parked and run to the house. I see cat #1 (Igby- please reference the previous post... he's a mighty bird hunter) run into the house. I know he's safe. But I also know that cat #2 loves to run outside and I'm sure she's gone.

I quickly see that my TV is there. That's a good sign right? So I check of thief. I run back out the door and start my frantic search for my little cat who is terrified of birds and loves plastic balls.

I call mom. Make her frantic. I check the garbage area. I'm calling for a cat. I walk back to my house and mom decides to come help me in my search.
As soon as I open the door, Zeda comes waltzing down the stairs.

I was almost mad that she made me frantic like that. And when I was so sleepy. I almost blame her for opening the door.
That night I fed the cats some yummy canned cat food for not running away and guarding the house.

Igby threw up and I just got the smell out.

BIRDS!

Some of you may have heard- but I had a bird encounter this weekend.

From My perspective:
I'm getting ready to meet Mom in Fort Worth for the Arts Festival- so I'm taking a bath, soaking my leg so it won't hurt. I hear a bang downstairs and I assume it is the cats, so I go on my bathing ways.
I get out of the bath, clothed in a towel and I see a giant crow flying around my apartment terrorizing my cats and me. I scream and run. I run some more. I throw on a robe and scream and run around some more.
Igby actually catches the bird in his little mouth and carries it downstairs, then spits it out behind the couch. I'm thinking- ok, here we go. I will put a pot over the dead bird and do something.
All the while, I'm calling Cliff and finally text him "help, there is a bird in my apartment!" and he doesn't respond. Brilliant.
While I'm franticly trying to contact Cliff, the "dead " bird gets up and flies away! It played dead! This means it is evil. At this point I have no other choice. I throw on clothes (a perk of always having them on the floor) and run outside. A boy is working on his car and I run up to him and say:
I have a bird in my apartment and I can't get it out. You must come and help me. A bird. A giant bird.
He laughs, and I say no- it's scary.
He comes in and comments on Igby- I don't care if you have a cat just like him... there is a crazed bird flying around in here and I hate it. Igby is still jumping around and grabbing his tail feathers- all new meaning to shake your tail feathers.
Finally we (ok, really it was him, I just kept screaming) trapped him by a window and opened it and the evil bird flew out.

From Igby's perspective:
It was the best day ever. Since my claws were removed I have felt like a pansy. Then a Black Beast appeared from no where and BAM! It was my time to shine. I jumped and pounced and put all my months of practice pouncing on random target bags to work and I caught that Black Beast. I caught it good.
Then it flew away. Couldn't have that, so I jumped about 4 feet in the air, grabbed it's tail thing and pulled it back to me. I owned that Black Beast.
Then, the girl who feeds me locked me in the bathroom.
When I was released, the Black Beast was gone.
I think I killed it.

From Zeda's perspective:
I heard a rumble and it puzzled me. I went to inspect and saw a large creature with eyes the color of hell.
I went and hid under the bed until the flying devil left.

A Week in the Abyss

My house needs vacuuming but the very thought sends shoots of pain down my right leg.
It's not that I'm that against vacuuming, it's just I've spent the last week avoiding anything that would send shoots of pain down my right leg.

Turns out, in my strangely non-active life, a disc in my lower back just popped out. Pop! And when it did that, it turned around and pinched my sciatic nerve. That nerve then runs all the way down my right leg full of pain.

It's like the medical version of mousetrap without all those little cardboard pieces of cheese floating around.

I've had a few highlights in my week of pain:
1. Not having to go to work. This would be tricky since I can stand for no longer than 10 minutes before the pain hits. Granted sitting isn't much better...
2. Krys came over and we had dinner and drinks and it was fabulous. First, there were tornadoes that threatened to cancel our events. Krys asked and I said "Screw tornadoes- we're texans, we can handle these." Thankfully they never showed up in Denton, and we decided to head south and eat at.... On the Border. We have realized that we can order a pitcher of margaritas which are cheaper than individual margaritas. That's how we roll- we pinch penny's and drink margaritas.
3. I redid my resume yet again. Like I said to others, my resume has gone through more face lifts than Joan Rivers. I'm happy with it for now. So it's getting sent out to the masses.
4. I'm still thinking about grad school and this week has provided plenty of thinking time.
5. I finally cooked that frozen pizza I've had in my fridge for months. It was pesto, goat cheese and tomatoes. mmmm.

yeah that's about it.
Oh! Yesterday a water pipe exploded from beneath the middle of the road. This happened about 15 feet from my front door. The water was literally shooting up about 20 feet in the air, and there was a pretty rainbow going through the middle- so I wasn't worried about the Earth being flooded. It went on for over an hour so I went and got a sno-cone. Raspberry margarita.

So 6 good things have happened to me this week. Unless you count my Vicodin in which case the number rises to 7.

Ow.

I was emptying some groceries from the trunk of my car. Then suddenly the trunk decided to fall on my defenseless head.

It bounced off.

It hurt.

I still have groceries in my car but I am too afraid to go back. Why would I encourage my trunk to fall on my already sore head again?