My landlord, who happens to live above me and is 26 years old with a wife and child on the way, came down to fix the dangling light and flooded floors tonight.
As he was wrapping up, he casually says, "Oh..you know how I always tell you about our crazy neighbors?" (Background: When I first moved in he told me about a father/son team who live next door with questionable life-styles who both wanted to date me. I'll leave it at that. Understand...questionable.)
I get a little, let's say scared, but curious.
Turns out one of our other neighbors who lives across the street (and is also called "questionable" by my landlord - Glenn.) wants to take me out on a date.
Obviously, I get this. I mean, what's not to love, right? But here's the puzzler. He's 22 years old. He moved out here because he knocked a girl up who now is not allowed to talk to him and is sequestered in her father's basement. Not necessarily relevant to the question or story, but interesting.
So riddle me this people: Why, after Glenn disclosed my shocking age, would this fella tell Glenn, "Look, I don't care about age. Just get her number and I'll take her out."???
One of the interesting phenomenon I'm discovering about being a mid-30's woman, is that the men who want you fall in one of two "card-carrying" categories: AARP or Brand new Driver's License. Never the men your age, or even within a five year range.
So obviously you all know I've got some theories, but I'm curious to hear yours. WHAT IS THIS ALL ABOUT??
In case you're curious, I told Glenn to tell our neighbor friend that I would certainly take him up on his offer as soon as he could prove to me that he was old enough to rent a car. I think that's respectable, right?
I love frozen bananas. When dipped in chocolate. I wish I loved plain frozen bananas because then I would be skinnier, but the fact is, the chocolate adds a LOT.
The good news is, I read an article in a magazine on the plane that this is a healthy snack, SO...for those of you interested in a healthy AND delicious snack, they're super easy to make.
Buy dark chocolate, melt in microwave, take banana and jam a popsicle stick up it, dip in chocolate, sprinkle on some nuts and freeze. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. Only 160 calories and 4 grams of fat. And if you use dark chocolate it's good for your heart.
I suggest you make them tonight and then tomorrow you can have just as big a smile on your face as I did today while I enjoyed my super nutritious chocolate treat. (They can also double as swords if you enjoy the occasional sword fight.)
My basement apartment flooded last night and I am surrounded by VERY loud, industrial fans today drying my carpet. My internet connection broke leaving me helpless to communicate online about my projects. My blackberry kept telling all the people calling me that it wasn't accepting calls. My hard drive that crashed is not doing what it needs to do or recognizing files I need. And of course a BIG deadline is looming. Oh and my kitchen light is dangling from a wire - it fell out of the ceiling for some unknown reason. I expect it will top off my day by falling on my head at some unsuspecting moment.
I've never related to the Bangles so much before, and really wished that I was "kissing Valentino by a crystal blue italian stream." I'm not sure those are the words, but it's definitely not "a crystal brewed italian stream" which I thought, and sang, for a long time.
So here's the thing--sometimes you just have "A Day." And when you do, you just get through as best you can and keep telling yourself the wise words of Scarlett O'Hara, "My life is over. Nothing will ever happen to me again." Wait. Wrong quote: "After all... tomorrow is another day." Yes, that's it. At any rate, in the midst of all this turmoil, which really doesn't even feel half as bad now that I've written it down, one good thing has happened. Kristin gave me the gift of blog re-design for my birthday, and Carly - world renowned blog designer - has finished my personal blog. Which none of you can see...However, I will share the joy of the design with you, along with my regret that you can't read what is on the real thing. Here is the header. Isn't it awesome? You probably can't see because it's kind of small, but it has little images of family and friends in the hanging balls.
I heart my blogs. Get excited and stay tuned as the construction efforts on this blog begin. Soon it will fill all your senses (minus taste I hope) and not just your heart. I kid.
And if today really is one of those days, that hanging light WILL fall on my head and I will blog about it for you tomorrow, since I was informed that most people who read my blogs just like to read about me getting hurt and falling. Well, I aim to please.
****Don't let the title scare you Brian, this blog will not mention breasts, and it is safe for Root consumption.
Last night was just an average Saturday night with your little brother. I came home from the airport around 8:30 or 9:00, and started cleaning and organizing and trying to get my life back in some semblance of order after a couple weeks on the road.
I had considered going out, but after about two seconds of thought decided I was definitely not feeling it and that a nice d.i.y. spa night sounded better. Shortly after aplying my Astra age-defying mask, Garrett walked through my door, saw my face and froze in his tracks - mouth agape. He was perhaps a bit scared, then amused, and finally exhilarated to find out what night it was at Casa de Quinn. He immediately insisted on joining the fun.
As you can see we both look pretty amazing in blue. It's especially complimentary to Garrett's stunning blue eyes.
In a nutshell, the night proceeded like so: 1. We carefully applied our masks, while giggling like school-girls 2. We caught up on our girl talk about relationships and who had been most recently rejected, and why games are stupid. 3. By the time we were caught up it was time to remove our masks and apply some moisturizer. Garrett was nervous about the eye cream, but finally acquiesced, and I think recognized the value. 4. We topped off the evening with the classic, "When Harry Met Sally" and a rousing game of scrabble.
It was truly a night to remember and one of my most enjoyable Saturday nights to date.
Two important informational afterthoughts:
1. Who needs sisters when you've got a brother like this?
2. Garrett told me when I picked him for church this morning that his skin has never felt better.
What is sexy indeed? Many women clients would say our CEO pictured above (with what some might consider a porn industry mustache) but, according to our sales guy David, NOT our e-learning materials. He kept asking us to make things look sexier and sound sexier during out strategy meeting yesterday. I get the idea that sexy is important to him, and not just on the e-learning front. And, hey, that's ok - as they say... sex(y) sells. And that's his job. Selling, not sex.
When he kept pushing for sexy, Ed, our Director of Operations for e-learning (who tends to lean more towards, let's say, substance) seemed a bit flustered by all the requests for sexy language in our materials. He finally, in consternation burst out with, "I don't know what an example of sexy language is." I think most in the room felt this was probably an understatement, and much laughter was enjoyed. With Ed, not at him. When I told our CEO, Jim, about Ed's outburst later, and while looking at Ed he said, "Take a look at him, that's for sure." (In case Ed's wife is reading this blog, please understand that I am not mean as you previously thought, I am just reporting the unbiased facts. If anyone is mean, it's Jim, and you should definitely talk to him.)
Another theme of the meeting, which Jim was kindly pointing out above, was Ed's dress code. He leans towards what David calls, "condiment colored sweatshirts" - mustard yellow, relish green, etc.. Ed is also featured in a previous blog about gout - which subject Jim raises in the video below. I personally find Jim's jokes about Ed shocking, and only chronicle it here in the hopes that Jim will see how NOT fun it is to enjoy yourself at someone else's expense.
****VIDEO COMING HERE SOON****
And Ed, since you said I never say anything nice about you in the blog, I think you have really nice, new sneakers.
One more thing. This whole subject reminds me of the Christmas gift that Tricia gave to Gary Magenta (our VP of Sales and Marketing) this year. A hardbound book with 68 pages dedicated to all the things Gary had said or done over the last couple of years that if reported to HR, should have gotten him fired.
I say, what a great company that doesn't let silly things like sexual harassment and political correctness stand in the way of a good time...and a leadership position. I've found my home.
***Jim: Remember that I really, really like both you AND my job. And if you try to bring me down, I've got a copy of Tricia's book and I'm bringing your VP down with me.
In the second part of my Travis film series (I love my i-flip video!) I introduce you to Raj and the Social Sev. The Social Sev is a 7/11 in Provo, UT where apparently hip, all-star types (like Travis and SQ) go to see and be seen. I haven't really seen where it's all it's cracked up to be on my two excursions with them, but maybe they were slow nights. Maybe. Here's how I define the Social Sev: It's the Provo equivalent of a bar - you are buying beverages of the non-alcoholic persuasion like gatorade, and trying to get a girl's number so you can text her for a really long time and not much else. You can see the huge draw.
So Travis and SQ (Which stands for Shawn Quality, not Shauri Quinn) introduced me to their main man Raj who manages the social sev. In the first video SQ introduces me to the Social Sev and Raj.
