Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Snowy

We got hit with a big, heavy, wet snowstorm yesterday.

It started as rain and it turned into snow approximately 30 minutes before I was supposed to leave work.

What should be a 45 minute commute to Mom and Dad's house took me 85 minutes. When I finally got home, I wanted to cry. Instead I ate five Girl Scout cookies and an Amy's Kitchen frozen pizza. Like, the whole thing.

It didn't help my mood.

And then I shoveled. Which also didn't help my mood. Although, despite the snow, it wasn't very cold out and it was dark and it was quiet. Being outside was nice. Shoveling is for the birds. Normal people with driveways own snow blowers; my father's wintertime BFF is his lawn tractor, which he installs a snowplow blade on for snow removal purposes. I don't know how to use the lawn tractor, so that's not an option. Not that I know how to use a snow blower, either.

I guess I was going to be shoveling either way.

I was crabby and I went to bed early. I read and felt pissed off because that's what I wanted to do. I didn't go to bed as early as I should have.

Just before 6:00 am, the phone rang. I grabbed at the phone and wondered who died and it was my mom's school, calling to cancel class. The classes they didn't have because they're on spring break. Mother F.

Just before 7:00 am, my phone rang. It was my work, calling to delay opening until the afternoon.

I wasn't scheduled to work until 12:30 pm. A half hour after the building opened.

I totally missed out on a free half-day off of work. Damnit!

I got up and I fed Ellie and then I ate five Girl Scout cookies while enjoying a cup of coffee and my Twitter feed.

And then I shoveled again. Because I don't know how to use fancy equipment.

I thought I should have a few more Girl Scout cookies when I finished my shoveling duties. But then I remembered how many Girl Scout cookies I had previously enjoyed and I thought better of it. I had ramen noodles instead.

And by then -- 10 Girl Scout cookies, one frozen pizza, one packet of ramen noodles later -- I decided that I wouldn't be in a bad mood any longer. So I took Ellie for a walk. I saw the snow for what it was: beautiful.  

And then I had to go to work and everything sucked all over again.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

I cannot be trusted to be alone

I woke up on Saturday at 6:00 am.

Basically two hours earlier than is appropriate on a Saturday morning that falls at the end of a shitty week, in the wintertime, when I don’t have to show up at work or do other responsible adult activities, when I stayed up too late the night before.

I woke up and I wasn’t in my own bed and I could hear Ellie’s stomach growling.

Ellie being my Mom and Dad’s dog. They’re vacationing in California; I’m on dogsitting duty.

Listening to the dog’s stomach loud growling, I realized that my parents probably hadn’t fed the dog dinner before catching their flight to California. I hadn’t fed her when I got home the night before. That was rude. She was probably pretty hungry. I felt guilty about that.

I got out of bed. I fed her. I let her out.

I contemplated going straight back to bed. I contemplated opening up the book that I’m reading. I contemplated making a cup of coffee.

But somehow ended up heating up a bowl of tofu curry – leftovers from the night before – instead.

At 6:00 am on a Saturday morning, I ate tofu curry in bed. While watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

Thankfully, Meg stopped by a few hours later and saved me from futher indulging in my odd tendencies. I cannot control my own weirdness if there isn’t anyone else around who may potentially witness it.

This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to live alone.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Year of the Pop Star

The last three months haven't been the easiest for Meg, my cousin Liz or me.

Liz and Fluff broke up. Meg and Drew broke up. Liz didn't get accepted to her first-choice grad school. I've been stuck in a miserable rut. Danielle -- our cousin, Liz's sister -- is struggling with her mental illness and that fight has touched us all.

There just hasn't been a lot of fun in life lately.

We are all quite close and we've done our best to rally the troops. Dinner after Liz's breakup. An afternoon crowded together in bed after Meg and Drew imploded. We met for dinner last night to debrief on the latest with Danielle (she's currently hospitalized) and, earlier this month, we turned the Super Bowl into Beyoncé Bowl.

Spending so much time together has been very good for my heart. Of the three of us, maybe I needed the quality time the least, but I've appreciated every second. I am mighty fortunate to be related to such awesome women. I am lucky to have them on my team.

And it's about damn time that we have a little fun.

Two weeks ago, I bought us tickets for the Beyoncé concert at the end of July. An hour ago, I bought us tickets for the Justin Timberlake & Jay-Z concert at the beginning of August.

Because, damn, we could all benefit from a few fun nights out.

And I am fairly certain that there isn't a cure for the blues more effective than a pop star.

It's good for the heart to have something fun to look forward to. Not that I'm rushing along the end of the summer. Please, summer, stay around as long as you can. Linger, summer! Please!  

The looking forward -- and by that I actually mean spending months planning the perfect outfit -- is half the fun.

Thursday, February 21, 2013

The Blue Notice

Lucy's older brother has two boys.

Lucy's younger brother has one boy and a boy on the way.

And, in July, Lucy and Chet will be parents to two boys.

Another boy!

All along, I have been thinking of this new baby as a boy. But, statistically, how could it not be a girl? After all of the boys in the family? A girl is bound to appear at some point, right?

Maybe at some point, but not at this point.

It's a boy.

Another boy!

My wallet is thankful for this. (Oh, the pink plans I had made! Ruffles everywhere!)

Me? I'm just thankful for another baby to snuggle.

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Pink or Blue?

I am meeting Lucy for breakfast tomorrow morning.

Immediately following her big gender reveal ultrasound appointment!

I am so excited.

I find it hard to believe that I could possibly any more excited if I was the pregnant one.

I mean, obviously I would be but it's hard to imagine. Being that I am not pregnant and all.

Anyway. So, I am the Queen of Cheese so I decided that I needed to bring a party favor to this big gender reveal breakfast. I made a quick shopping trip on my way to the gym yesterday and picked out a few adorable little onesies.


I'll wrap one in pink paper and one in blue paper and I will give Lucy the appropriate gift for the new little dumpling.

I'll just return the other one. Or possibly just keep it like the weird single woman that I am. Because I happen to think that they're both terribly adorable (Burt's Bees Baby. Who knew that was even a thing?) and who knows when I will need a onesie?

Just kidding.

But they were a really good deal and somebody is always getting knocked up, so if I don't get around to returning the extras it isn't like I won't have the opportunity to gift it to another baby in, like, a matter of weeks.

The dual presents aren't creepy, right?

Tell me if it's creepy.

Not that I really care what anyone else thinks of me and my friendships, but there are moments I am afraid that I'm too close to Lucy and her family. That I am the creepy weird single friend who is around too much because she doesn't have a family of her own to take care of. And that I'm not throwing myself into changing that -- into finding a partner and doing all of those things that I'm supposed to do -- because I am so content with this friendship that's nearly a family.

Oh, who am I kidding?

They're my family.

And they think of me that way, too. Lucy made me a little basket of nail polish and chocolate for Valentine's Day. This week, Chet suggested that they move to Miami and "bring Aly along, too."

Both of which are probably as abnormal as the dueling gender presents.

But not as cute.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Spring will be here soon

I am organizing my summer soccer team this year. While our season doesn't start until June, we have to start filling out paperwork and ordering jerseys and reserving our field in January. Don't tell my team, but I've largely been slacking on my responsibilities. I'll get it all done. Eventually. June just seems so far away.

Yesterday, I finally sent a few emails that I should have sent a month ago. I made a spreadsheet I should have made at the beginning of January. I checked on our jerseys and generally came to the conclusion that, yes, June will come again this year so I best start getting ready for it.

There is one source for the productivity and one source alone: Tim Horton's. 


More specifically: the Roll Up the Rim to Win promotion at Tim Horton's.

Forget Groundhog's Day and that sham Punxsutawney Phil character: Roll Up the Rim to Win is how I know that spring is on the way.

If you don't have Tim Horton's where you live, I am very sorry. You're really missing out on a good cup of coffee. And Roll Up the Rim. And, therefore, the most accurate sign that spring is coming.

May I suggest that you move closer to the Canadian border? Or just make it official and move to Canada. 

As I am still strictly (and stupidly) limiting myself to one cup of coffee per day, and I did not realize that Roll Up the Rim to Win started until after I had my allotted coffee yesterday, I waited until 8:15 this morning to make my Roll Up debut.


I won. On my first try. I never win on my first try.

I'm taking it as a good sign about spring.

And the weeks leading up to spring, too.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Mostly Better

I am less of a lunatic today.

Finally letting myself cry helped. Even though it was a big, ugly cry on my way to my hockey game. I showed up with mascara smeared all over my splotchy cheeks. My teammates were kind enough to pretend not to notice. I paid them back by letting the other team score the winning goal with five seconds left in the game. Sorry, team.

I am less anxious today. I feel gloomy but I don't feel like I am about to combust.

My problem is not from a single source. Everything is bugging me right now. Everything feels impossible.

It's going to take a while for me to chip away at this. So that's what I'm going to do. Start chipping away the pieces. See how much progress I make. See how it goes for a little while before I determine if it would make more sense to get a little help.

If I can make it through the end of March, I'll be okay. To me, the end of March signals the end of winter. The end of winter signals a fresh start.

A fresh start is precisely what I am craving.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

This is anxiety?

How much anxiety is too much anxiety?

I feel like a certain amount of anxiety just comes from being human and having a brain and using that brain to think. But there is obviously some place, a point that you reach, when your anxiety is no longer just a part of being a human and having a brain and using that brain to think. When it becomes a problem.

I'm just wound so tightly.

These last couple of days have been especially bad. I can't really breathe and I'm swinging my leg all the time. Nervously. Constantly. Like I have to get this energy out somehow and the only way is through the constant swinging of my right foot.

Of course my right foot. (I am such a right-foot dominant soccer player that is is almost comical.)

Nothing is appealing. Not dinner with my family on Friday night. Not shopping with my mom for a few hours before. Not finishing up a task at work. Not drinking wine at Liz's birthday dinner. Not the book I just finished. Especially not a ridiculously unwise trip to Ikea on a Sunday afternoon. Not the family party that I'll be attending shortly. Not my hockey game tonight.

I don't want anything. Except for time to pass quickly and easily and deposit me at the end of this anxiety, much like a river emptying into a lake. Or something else that's vaguely poetic.

I wish I could just cry this out but I can't seem to do it. The tears are right there but I'm so bottled up. Anxious.

This is anxiety, isn't it?

When do you ride it out and when are you supposed to ask for help?

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Lucky Auntie

Oh, this baby.

This sweet, silly baby.




This sweet, silly baby who is growing up to be such a sweet, silly little boy.

I am the luckiest.

Valentine's Day

I don't have a problem with Valentine's Day.

Sometimes I think that maybe I should. That maybe it should make me angry. That a little anger towards this silly little holiday would prove that I have some fight in me. That I care enough to want this to be different. (As clearly my inability to join Match indicates otherwise.)

But I don't have a problem with Valentine's Day.

I have a lot of love in my life.

Not romantic love, maybe. But it is love and I cherish it.

I have a hard time turning my nose up at love. Any kind of love.

That's why I'm babysitting Baby A tonight. Because I love his parents and I want them to have a night out together. Because a few hours alone with that sweet baby will be all the love a girl needs on Valentine's Day. Because I know that my grandma baked me cookies. And that my mom has wrapped me up a little present in red tissue paper. There is love all around me and it might not come with a dozen roses, but it is love all the same.

I baked and mailed The Coach a batch of cookies. I shouldn't have, I'm sure it was breaking all sorts of rules and logic but I did it anyway. Because he likes sugar cookies and I made dozens. Because I miss him even though it's been hardly a week since I last saw him. Because he's been having a hard time. Because it's Valentine's Day and I don't have a problem with Valentine's Day.

It's more likely that I lose my leg in a freak accident with an alligator today than he does anything for me other than call, just so we're clear.

I didn't send cookies with the hope of reciprocation, just so we're clearer.

I did it because I wanted to. Because I don't have a problem with Valentine's Day.

Because I like to have an excuse to show that I care.

That's why I bought my mom a couple of books. Why I left my coworker cookies on her desk. Why I'm babysitting for Baby A tonight. Why I mailed Lacey cookies. And why I shipped The Coach cookies, too.

Because I care.

Because it's Valentine's Day.

(What did you guys do just because it's Valentine's Day? Share, please!)

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Thinking About (Mostly Superficial Things)

1. Straight hair. I feel like if I just straighten my hair with the flat iron, it looks weird unnatural bone straight. So I’ll usually add some curl to the bottom. But that adds a lot of time. I need to find a happy medium. Or learn how to curl the ends with my flat iron without burning my hands.

2. Red nail polish. I bought a bottle of Essie Really Red over the weekend and I am in l-o-v-e. It’s pretty much the perfect Valentine’s Day red and I know that, as Perpetual Single Girl, I am not supposed to like Valentine’s Day but I sort of do anyway and, therefore, must paint my nails to mark the day.

3. The Coach. It's a really critical time in his season right now so I am kind of -- I don't know -- worried, I guess. I know how much energy he pours into his job and all I want is for it to turn out for him, you know? As silly as it is to fret about a game (and that is his job, his highest priority -- a GAME), I do it. I do it regularly. I want him to do well.

4. Work. It's not going well. I had my annual review with my boss last week. Apparently she thinks that the sun shines out of my ass, which is lovely, but I am terribly frustrated with the decisions that our leadership is making. It is getting really, really hard to do my job well and I think that it's only going to get worse. My morale is pretty low.

5. Going back to school. It crosses my mind a lot. If there were an area of study that was logical to pursue, I would take the desire more seriously. I met a woman a few weeks ago who has a Master of Science in Health Education and the thought of it intrigued me. My mother groaned about what a useless degree it is when I mentioned it, so I guess that's out.

6. My cousin Danielle. Without getting into the whole story, Danielle is bipolar (I wrote about it a lot in October 2009). She's manic right now. It's an enormous mess. Like her sister had to fly to Europe to bring her home enormous kind of mess. I keep thinking that she's on the cusp of getting better but she isn't interested in help, her parents aren't pushing it and her sister is trying to keep everyone happy in the middle. It's scary. It's awful to watch.   

7. Jobs. More specifically: how far could I commute on a daily basis before I completely lose it?

8. What I'm going to wear to Liz's birthday party on Saturday night. Especially considering that I'm going straight from work and I mostly feel like a hideous beast in anything and everything.

9. Girl Scout cookies. I have Tagalongs in my car. It's a genuine miracle that I can think about anything else.

10. Crying. Sometimes, all I can focus on is crying. How I want to cry. How I shouldn't cry. I just need to get it over with.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

I need a little calm

On Saturday night, when I should have been editing my cousin/roommate Liz’s MBA application essays or doing something normal and social, I pushed the coffee table out of the way and fired up an on-demand yoga workout and, you guys? I felt so much better when I was done. Could you please help remind me that my life is a lot better with yoga in it? Please?

Because for the last year, I’ve been yoga lazy. I’ve been enjoying running and work wasn’t terribly stressful and my shoulders weren’t tense to the point where I felt like I had been beaten with a tire iron. But now running feels a little harder and work is giving my anxiety and my shoulders definitely feel tense to the point where I feel like I have been beaten with a tire iron.

I need yoga.

I need something to calm me down. I need something to mellow me out.

And I need my shoulders to not hurt all the damn time. Which I apparently cannot trust my sister – the physical therapist – to take care of for me because every time I ask for a little adjustment she gets all huffy and goes on and on about not treating family.

Meg’s a selfish bitch. (I adore her, but this isn't news.) So yoga it is.

It is so easy for me to forget to take care of myself. I get so busy doing things for other people – this weekend it was editing my cousin Liz’s MBA admissions essays and baking/mailing Valentine’s Day cookies to some friends and The Coach – that I don’t give myself one second to breathe or decompress or stretch out my shoulders.

I need to get better at that.

Because work is getting worse. My shoulders are getting tighter. I don’t want to love on my loved ones any less.

And I’m pretty useless to everyone as an anxious ball of stress.

Saturday, February 09, 2013

Losing It

I have really weird dreams.

Everyone says that, though. Have you ever had a conversation in which someone stated that they have normal dreams? Exactly.

Does that mean I am going to save you all from a dream recap? No, sorry. I know that you have weird dreams, too. Blog about them. I promise I'll read.

On Thursday night, I dreamed about my wedding dress. Not a short dream by any means. It was one of those dreams that lasts the entire night. I slept for seven straight hours. Seven straight hours of dreaming about my wedding dress.

Who does that?

Okay, other than girls who are getting married or are, like, reasonably close to getting married or maybe just aren't single -- who does that?

Me, apparently. Because I dreamed for approximately seven hours about a beautiful, textured, white Swiss dot bridal gown.

I work up on Friday morning and, after I stumbled about the house for a while and let the dog out and kept thinking about the dream and kept thinking about that wedding dress, I pulled out my iPad and actually researched beautiful, textured, white Swiss dot bridal gowns just so that I could get the idea out into the universe and out of my head. 

In my defense: my search lasted maybe 15 minutes. It was not a full-blown attack of the crazy girl. I didn't spend my afternoon making appointments at bridal salons.

Just a minor episode of insanity. 

Oh, and in last night's long, detailed dream I was carrying an infant the entire time.

Nice.

If you didn't already have enough evidence that seeing The Coach just makes me more insane than usual, there is your proof.

Friday, February 08, 2013

2012 Resolution Rewind

I've been meaning to write this for, oh, five weeks or so but I have been so rotten lately about blogging. It seems that all I can accomplish are babbling brain dumps. Which is better than nothing (for me, that is, because it means that I'm still writing -- for you all, I'm sure that it's painful) but just barely.

We're well into February, but I don't think it's too late to review my 2012 resolutions.

#1 Be brave. This is it. This is my 2012. 
I was braver in 2012. I'm not sure if my behavior could be labeled as brave. That entanglement with Alexander was brave for me. The boy who I knew I shouldn't get involved with and did it anyway. There was that job I interviewed for and ultimately turned down. That wasn't the easy decision -- turning down the extra money and extra responsibilities that would have been great in the short term and risky in the long term -- but it was the right decision. And that felt brave. Keeping my relationship with The Coach undefined and casual wasn't brave. I should have said something. I should have forced us to figure it out. I didn't, and I suppose that's a big reason that I cannot feel like I was truly brave in 2012.  

#2 Stay in the kitchen. Why not? I like it there.
This was such an easy resolution for me to keep. I baked a lot in 2012. I was really consistent in preparing myself lunches that weren't processed, junky crap that doesn't even taste all that good. I'm still a big fan of cereal for dinner and a grilled cheese sandwich at any and all meals, but I think I have found a good balance and I'm fortunate to enjoy it, too.

#3 Jump back on the water train. If you need me, I’ll be peeing.
Major, major, major fail. I lived on coffee. It was disgusting. Which is why drinking more water is a 2013 resolution.

#4 Be pretty and be okay with it. Pointless guilt need not apply.
I have this weird guilt complex where I feel bad about spending time to get ready the morning because I shouldn't care so much about how I look and I definitely shouldn't spend 20 minutes fixing my hair. This is totally about my mom (a very nononsense woman) and my sister, both who love to give me a hard time about it. Which still pisses me off. When my hairdresser says "Meg hates that you straighten your hair and then put curls in" it DRIVES ME INSANE. It's my hair. I will do what I want with my hair. I will spend the time I want on my hair. It's maddening. Equally maddening is when my mom clucks about using a flat iron on my naturally curly hair or putting on makeup before going over to Grandma's. Leave me alone. It's my choice. So, while I still feel a little guilty about spending an hour in the bathroom in the morning, I haven't let that guilt stop me from doing it. And I'm just way more confident when I have a little blush on. It's totally worth it.   

The following isn’t a list of resolutions. Just ideas.
More live music.
More outdoor runs.
More laughter.
Bigger ambitions.
More hugs.
Less coffee.
More road trips.
Fewer tears.
Get smarter.
Show love.
More green tea.
Eat better.
More fun.
Sleep longer.
Procrastinate less.
Blog better.
More making.
Less buying.
Try harder.
Aim higher.
Love more.
Live happier.
Less coffee and more green tea? Failures. Other than that, I really didn't do all that bad.

2012, you were okay.

Wednesday, February 06, 2013

Everything is kind of great (today)

I was lazy this morning and accomplished nothing but keeping a segment of the couch warm with the heat of my backside as I scrolled through my Twitter feed and enjoyed my coffee.
My single cup of coffee. Still on coffee restriction. Still hating myself for it.

And I painted my nails a brilliant bronze.

On Wednesdays, I don’t generally leave for work until noon or so. Usually I get something accomplished. I’ll do a load of laundry or go to the gym or meet Lucy and Baby A for coffee. Today, I was lazy. It was kind of great.

I stopped at CVS on my way to work. Somehow I paid $18 for $52 of product and I didn’t steal anything or do any extreme couponing. It was kind of great.

I’m working in a department other than my usual department. I dislike working here, but I get an hour for lunch instead of my usual 30 minutes and that is kind of great.

Especially on a day when the U.S. men’s soccer team is playing a game at 4:00 pm and I have time to drive home and catch a half-hour of the match while eating a healthy meal of macaroni and cheese, chicken noodle soup and Nutella hot chocolate. (I was obviously craving comfort foods.) As far as lunch hours go, it was kind of great.

The Taylor Swift sing-along on the drive to and from lunch was kind of great, too.

Anything would have seemed kind of great today, honestly. I’m walking around in a dreamy one-day-after-I-saw-The-Coach-and-I-wasn’t-expecting-to fog. A car accident and a poke in the eye would make me smile.

I’ll come back down to reality soon.

Tuesday, February 05, 2013

Unexpected

I didn't expect to see The Coach at all this month.

Nor did I expect to be sitting on my bed on a Tuesday afternoon, listening to The Coach sing in my shower.

There isn't a lot in my life that I leave up to chance or to surprise. The last 36 hours have been unique. The guy I wasn't expecting to see became the guy singing in my shower.

He came home for sad reasons. I picked him up at the airport. He flew in to be with his family. He chose to spend a couple of hours with me, too. I enjoyed every second of a nice few hours and I didn't even bother to wish for more; he needed to be with his family.

I wasn't expecting to see him. Under the circumstances of his very short visit, I wouldn't have expected to see him.

I wasn't expecting to see him. I am so grateful that I did.

Sunday, February 03, 2013

Betting on the Super Bowl

I've put some cash and my pride on the Super Bowl today.
 
And by that I mean that me, Meg and my cousin Liz are betting on the halftime show.
 
We all have a healthy love and appreciation for the diva who is Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter. We might even have tentative plans for the Saturday night that her HBO documentary airs.  Here are the parameters of this bet, which I came up with this morning as I pounded out 8 miles on the treadmill: each participant submits five songs that he/she thinks that Beyoncé will perform. One song must be designated as her opening song. One song must be designated as her closing song. 5 points are accumulated for every correct song that you pick, with a 10 point bonus if you correctly name the first song or the last song.

There are additional bonuses for choosing the correct number of outfit choices and special musical guests.

Winner gets dinner at our favorite A² pizza joint.
 
And pride.
 
 
 
And first dibs as being the diva Beyoncé herself in our reenactment in the Single Ladies video.   

Saturday, February 02, 2013

I can't get anything right

Today, I left the house while Liz was shoveling and I pulled my car out of the driveway and I closed the garage and I drove off.

When I closed the garage, I locked Liz out of the house.

It feels like that's all I do lately. Make flaky, stupid mistakes because my head is everywhere but where it should be. I'm so busy thinking or worrying about The Issue of the Day (work, The Coach, my cousin Danielle, when I'm going to watch the latest episode of Girls, what I need to buy at the grocery store, etc.) that I'm blind to what's happening right in front of me.

I suppose that's just the type of person that I am. I live inside my head.

The problem, recently, is that I can't get back outside of it.

I met my mom to go shopping this afternoon and I basically wandered behind her through the store. I touched things. I looked at things. I couldn't tell you what. I didn't see any of it.

That's sort of how everything feels right now. I am doing it, but I am not seeing it or feeling it or living it.

My life is happening around me and I'm too distracted to pay attention.

Friday, February 01, 2013

On working with an asshole

I have never claimed to be perfect. I will never claim to be perfect. But I live my life trying, basically, not to be an asshole. And I think that it has worked out well for me so far.

Because why? Why be an asshole? Why be difficult?

I work with an asshole. An asshole who, I believe, is an asshole for the sake of being an asshole. I think that she likes it. Likes stirring everyone up because she can. Revels in the perceived power of being difficult.

It’s really unpleasant. I don’t like being around her.

Yesterday was Coworker B’s going away party. The rest of our department – five of us – decided to throw him an incredibly casual reception at the end of the workday and invited the rest of our coworkers to drop by for snacks and an opportunity to wish Coworker B well in his new career adventure.

I volunteered to bring a few different dips and crackers. Another coworker made a few different salsas and brought in the corresponding tortilla chips. My boss brought in a bunch of fruit and dips. One person bought all of the paper products.

And we all waited and waited and waited on our asshole coworker to volunteer to bring something. And then my boss asked and got no response and then she asked again and got no response and, seriously, what are you trying to say by refusing to bring in a few liters of soda? Seriously.

You’re not going to bring anything? Fine. Don’t bring anything. We proceeded without her and bought drinks and set up the party and had the party and she didn’t show up. And I was like GOOD. I DIDN’T WANT YOU EATING THE FOOD OR DRINKING THE DRINKS, ANYWAY.

There are obviously situations in which someone cannot participate for whatever legitimate reason (no money, religious beliefs, whatever) and that is fine and I understand it and I will even be nice about it. But she was doing it to be a jerk. She was doing it to make some unknown point that, in her head, her absence and refusal to participate made loud and clear. (None of us have any idea what this point was that she was making.)

Fast forward an hour to when we were cleaning up and then my asshole coworker shows up and helps herself to a plate. Which she sits and eats while we’re all cleaning up around her.

Lucky for her, I was in complete hostess mode and I was chatting away with her like she hadn’t been an intentional asshole about the whole party and it didn’t even occur to me how vile and rude she was being until we finished up and one of my colleagues (who had been huffily cleaning up around our asshole coworker) turned to me and whispered “you’re far more gracious than I am.”

My graciousness was a complete accident but life is so much more pleasant being accidentally gracious than being intentionally assholeish.

So have some hummus, asshole. I win anyway.
 
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