I Can’t Help Myself Friday. The Spooky Edition

Halloween is upon us, readers. It’s seems like the entire month of October has been a brewing cauldron of bad behavior, crazy political commercials and just a whole of creepy. Let’s purge our demons, shall we?

Don’t know what to dress up as this weekend? Drunken rampages never go out of style!

Oh wait, it wasn’t a drunken rampage, it was allergies that left Charlie Sheen naked and passed out across the hall from the famed Eloise suite at the Plaza! Way to impress your kids, Charlie! Is there any doubt a parent would run screaming from the specter of Charlie Sheen “Trick or Treating”?

Check out this montage of Faux News personalities!

Are they the creepiest bunch of people or what?

And speaking of Faux News, want to have your 5pm cocktail with Glenn Beck?

Keep an ENTIRE bottle of Ketel One by your side for that one.

Try and guess who has the mask on in this clip. Is it Mary Hart or Sarah Palin?

Stay safe, stay sane, and slug back some wine with a handful of candy corn, it’s going to be a bumpy weekend!


The Stinky Cubicle

Meg would like to present another in the series of crazy office mates and co-worker’s for your reading pleasure.

Disclaimer: All characters are true life people, but are so far in the distant past, that none could possibly connect themselves to this present day blog. If they can, they should continue to be immensely embarrassed.

So in the day when I worked for Carly for CA’s company, we had a constant stream of contractors coming in and out of the group. Programmers, technical writers, interns and the one I like to call “Smelly Pants“. Naturally, Smelly Pants ended up in the office next to me.

When Smelly moved in, it took me a few weeks to get his modus operandi down. He used to stroll into work in full biker attire, meaning bike shorts, helmet, and the actual wheel from his bike. Which kudos to those who work out, many of us did the gym and running thing at lunch and tried fit a workout into the day. So Smelly does his at the beginning of the day, right?

But Smelly doesn’t drop his stuff off and hit the showers. Smelly puts a sign up in his office that says:

“DON”T COME IN. I’M CHANGING”.

And by changing I don’t mean he was becoming a more caring individual. He was stripping down to the bare essentials and dressing in his work clothes in the large public office area. All that was between us and a scream of horror was a mere cardboard box with his little signage.

So day after day, I can “see” Smelly changing. Remember those Westerns on TV where the hooker with a heart of gold changed behind a little screen, and you could see her petticoats flouncing in the air? Well, that was what is was like sitting next to Smelly. Except the petticoats were sweaty clothes.

Besides trying not to poke my mind’s eye out every day, I also noticed an unpleasant odor wafting from his cubicle. The smell was not a pleasant one either. Remember walking by the boys locker room in high school?
Good times!

I cleverly recruited a lookout and went on a reconnaissance mission in Smelly’s office. Piled in the corner were all sorts of dirty clothes and moldy towels. Scattered about the office were dishes of Tupperware containing what I believe must have constituted his health food lunches, but they really resembled petri dishes.

It literally was a mini locker room. All that was missing was a pile of jockstraps and a tube of Ben-Gay.

So Meg did the only thing she could and recruited the only sane person she ever knew in Human Resources to take a gander at the mess. Lucky me, she immediately swung into action to get Smelly to clean his act up, and in fact, Smelly moved and was never seen again.

And no, I never missed the sound of his bike cleats or seeing his sweaty clothes swing over the office partition. But he did leave behind the little sign “I Am Changing”. And I could only hope it meant it he was changing for the better, and changing in an actual locker room.

Stay tuned for my next co-worker installment, which I think I’ll call the “Voodoo Doll”!


What Really Matters

So Friday night I broke out the new cocktail dress and spun around a local country club for 5 hours.

Well, there’s a little more to it than that. The event was called “Almost There”, and night was a fund-raiser for a local non-profit very close to my heart, called the Mission of Deeds. MOD, as we call, it, helps families in need get back on their feet by supplying them with furniture, bedding, household and decorative items.

Each family that comes to the organization has been vetted by a social service agency that has determined the family truly has needs. Many of these families have been homeless, sleeping on a relative’s floor, or perhaps the victim of domestic abuse. Once an agency is able to secure housing for them, the family can come shop in the warehouse for all the things they need to furnish a house.

The last few years, the demand for MOD’s services has exceeded what can be fulfilled, due to the tiny cramped warehouse that they existed in.

Here’s an example of the chaos:

Not very appealing, right?

Last year, through some good fortune, MOD was able to obtain space next to their current warehouse, and were able to begin an expansion project to double it’s size, and make it light, bright and a pleasant experience for families. The charity received a huge and unexpected bequest from someone’s estate, and many people in town offered their services to re-architect and build out the warehouse for just the cost of materials. The space is almost complete (thus the phrase “Almost There”) and ready for unveiling in a few short weeks.

Over the years, I have read many heartfelt letters from families who have been helped by MOD.

One little boy wrote: “This is the first real bed I ever had, it’s the best Christmas ever!

Another woman said “You just didn’t give us furniture, you gave us back our lives“.

Last week while I was shopping in a local beauty supply store for raffle items, a young lady was helping me pick out some cool stuff. When I told her what I was doing, she asked me what charity I was working with, and I told her. She gasped and exclaimed “Those are the people that helped my young daughter and I put our apartment together!

She told me that she had been to the warehouse, and got a beautiful pink bed for her daughter, and she also picked out a writing desk that she had placed in a perfect spot in her apartment. She told me she was a theater arts major and that it meant a lot to her to sit down every day and have a place to write and express herself. And she asked me “Can you please tell them I use the desk every single day?”

The totals from the event are not in yet, but I know people were generous and we made a lot of money, and that will enable MOD to help more people put their lives back together.

What really matters though, is a young mother has pretty pink bed for her little girl, and a special place to sit and maybe make some of her dreams come true. Beyond all the money and shiny new warehouse, she is the heart of what really matters.


I Can’t Help Myself Friday. Did They Really Say That?

In recent weeks, things have just gone batshit crazy. Every single political ad on TV spews statistics and numbers and ridiculous mashup’s of those running for office. Sometime you wonder if you are hearing what you think you are hearing. Let’s examine:

I miss being pampered; I miss Air Force 1; I miss being commander in chief of an awesome group of (people)!”

That’s right, it’s that blast from the past George W. Bush!

Apparently he still lives up on Dumbfuck Mountain. I have been waiting to use that graphic for awhile, so thanks for indulging me on that one.

Alors! The country of France screams a collective cry of Mais Non!

The French government is looking to raise the retirement age from 60 to 62. Apparently even high school students are storming the Bastille clamoring that this injustice be stopped. Knock, knock you guys, you have a 35 hour work week and a minimum of 5 weeks of vacation a year! Profitez de la vie, OK?

“I am not a witch”!

Christine O’Donnell is the gift that keeps on giving. Every week she sinks her own candidacy into the ground a little more. This week she claimed to be a constitutional scholar, but I’m still enamored of her “I am not a witch” commercial. Let’s see how SNL plays it up!

In this video, note the similarity between Elvira, mistress of the dark, and our intrepid Senate candidate!

And here’s my very favorite whoops of the week:

So, when I first heard she called Anita Hill demanding an apology, I thought, she must have had some Bloody Mary’s over the long holiday weekend? But really, I think her bio says it all. She is nuts.

Well, I recommend we all shut the TV off this weekend, and kick back with some good music, a relaxing cocktail, and please, let’s all keep the crazy people away til Monday!


My Mojo is Back

Fall is here, and the good part about that, is I can finally think. The humid summer weather pretty much put my brain on lockdown. I’d look at the pollen coating my windows and think, well, stay that way. The New Yorker’s piled up in a stack and the only thing I could do was flip through and check out the cartoons. I laughed at the thought of dusting anything.

All of that has changed the past few weeks, and I do believe my mojo is back. That’s right, I have a cleaning mojo I was born with, thanks to my Nana Rita. She was the ultimate in housekeeping and cooking. She would have smacked down Martha Stewart with one hand behind her back and a steam iron in the other. And as the seasons change, I feel her spirit descend upon me and take possession.

Soup anyone? The recipe for this vegetable soup is posted in my sidebar. It feels kind of good to cook again after using the grill all summer long!

Just look what space is getting used again!

The laptop stays downstairs all summer, but I really crank out a lot of work in my little office, now that it isn’t a sauna.

Look who can see out of her windows again!

This is office number two, where I like to spend afternoons. When you have this many windows in a space, the dirt will mock you to no end. I spent an afternoon cleaning them, I hope it shows!

I planted 200 of these bulbs this week, in hopes a little corner of my yard is going to look bright and cheerful this coming spring.

Finally, I did a little fall decorating!

It’s good to have the mojo back and feel organized. The cooking, the cleaning, the decorating is all therapeutic. And somewhere up above, a grandmother looks down and tells her granddaughter, good job!

Thanks for the mojo, Nana!


Strike a Pose

Remember last week’s post on Fashion Stinkeye? Where the purple dress needed some outside intervention opinions?

Well, Meg followed the advice of her blogger friends the very next morning. She tried rockin’ the dress with her amethyst and pearl necklace on Colette’s advice. She tried on her strappy black sandals and put on her Spanx. She strolled around and struck a pose. That pose did not scream VOGUE, either, my friends.

That pose said:

You are wearing what we now know are “shutter pleats”. They are apparently the latest trend. However, if you feel like an actual pair of house shutters when wearing said dress, then it’s not happening fashion statement.

And her friend Susan was right. If Meg had to think about it, then it wasn’t meant to be.

One short hour after striking a horrified pose, it was back to the Mall, and the place known as heaven Nordstroms.

Meg’s “stylist” Rachel spun around the dress department and picked a bunch of things for her and neatly lined them all up in the dressing room. Meg tried various items on, and each felt more comfortable and stylish than the purple number, and soon she was encouraged.

She came out in a particularly fetching cocktail dress, and stood before the three way mirror. Rachel told her to slip into some Jessica Simpson stiletto shoes. Before she fell off the shoes, angels trumpeted, Madonna sang “Vogue” and some women in the dressing room applauded. The dress rocked. Can you say SOLD?

Meg hugged Rachel and left Nordstroms with a bounce in her step, and her wallet much lighter.

Here it is:

It looks nice when you are leaving the room as well:

When Meg regaled her husband of the new purchase, he wholeheartedly agreed that while purple does look good on her, that the dark navy blue dress was more of a power color, and thus the cost was justified. She can also wear this to a looming class reunion, a wedding and some fancy holiday party.

And she can comfortably “strike a pose”.