So my big Friday night plan was to watch The Godfather II while eating lots of spaghetti and drinking wine (like an Italian!) and I was pretty darn excited about it. I had all of my spaghetti cooked up and my wine poured and I was settling in to get started when I realized I should probably wash my dishes RIGHT AWAY because I didn't want my roommate to know I had cooked and then done my dishes because SHE had a bunch of dishes in the sink and I didn't want to feel obligated to wash her dishes too. Normally I would not feel obligated, but from time to time I will wash her dishes for her because it feels wrong NOT to washes her dishes when I'm already doing mine. And she now KNOWS that I wash her dishes (unless she believes in the dishes fairy) and now I guess she kinds of expects me to wash them? But tonight I just didn't feeeeeel like it. Anyway. Just as I was finishing up washing, she walked into the apartment. BUSTED. Then she sat in the kitchen and told me of her boyfriend woes while I did all the dishes, including hers which were gross because there was a lot of milk in them and some old oatmeal blehhhhh, and then she didn't even bother to help me dry or put away and then she didn't say thank you.

Now I've eaten all my pasta and had a glass of wine and am kind of bummed out. But oh well, I guess now I'll just snuggle with my kitty cat and watch a comedy.

Holy fuck, The Godfather II is 200 minutes! Well, maybe this was for the best, I don't think I could have made it through. That is way, way, way, way, way too long for a Friday night.

MST3K it is!

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I haven't been updating much, as I've entered zombie mode. Work 8:30-5:00 Monday-Friday. Every day go home, play with Dagmar, maybe watch a show or a movie. Eat. Go to bed. Do it all again. Weekends aren't much better.

It's hard to make friends when you live in a bigger city and work in a small office.

Speaking of small offices.

My co-worker Daniel quit, leaving me completely alone with my boss (who I like, so it's fine) but this is an incredibly busy work environment and my anxiety level has been HIGH since he left. We've gone through two temps who hated working here and I've taken on 9 projects. It's overwhelming. Thank goodness for overtime.

Speaking of overtime.

I was supposed to become a salaried employee when I started full time this March. But I guess there was a glitch (of course there was a glitch) and I was being paid as an hourly. Which was totally fine, as hourly workers get paid bi-weekly and salaried employees monthly. I wasn't happy with my salary, however, as Daniel made more than I did, even though we hold (held) the same position. So I brought it up to my boss, who put in for a raise for me and yayay I got it. But now I'm salaried, so no more overtime pay and no more every other week paycheck.

But it's worth it.

I'm hoping my life will improve once Edward gets here, as I'll have a companion and someone to go do things with, other than my two sisters who both have significant others and retail jobs. Both make hangout time difficult.

Anyhow. I'm here, writing this now at 5:20 instead of heading home because my boss ended her mediation at 5:00 and I'm concerned she may want to debrief. I called her and haven't heard back though, so I guess I'll wrap it up, go home and watch The Godfather.

Yay.

My apologies for the poorly structured entry, it was kind of just a brain dump.


Never mind, just got an email from my boss. She's coming back here with a group from the mediation (maybe the whole group?).

Damn.

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On Wednesday I was doing the office grocery shopping (sounds lame, but is in fact a great excuse to get out of the office) and I decided to walk to the store since it was nice and warm outside and it's been wet and miserably cold for months. Stupid Portland.

So I was crossing a crosswalk and there was this guy in front of me that I wasn’t really paying attention to and he all of a sudden turned around and said, “Sorry I’m all over the place, haha, you know, sorry about that,” and I said, “Oh no, you’re fine,” (not knowing what the hell he was even talking about) and he said, “Well you know what though?! Things sure have gotten better since I started drinking again!” And I said, “Yayyyyyyyy...” because I didn't know what else to say and I was caught off guard. And really, what the hell else are you supposed to say to a crazy man with tattoos on his face in a situation like that?



.gif somewhat related?

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My sister (Danni) and her fiancée (Steven) are getting married on April 5th. But no wedding, just them, my parents, my little sister and me in our living room, and they're going to sign something in front of a notary or... something? Who knows how it all works. Not me.

I guess they're planning on having a "real" wedding sometime next year, when they have some money saved up. They're getting married now so my sister will have health insurance. Makes sense! I wonder if they'll really ever get around to having a real wedding? I hope so. I've never been in a wedding before and I feel almost 100% sure that I'll get to be in theirs.

Okay, subject change.

Friday night I was grocery shopping. I had a big heavy bag of groceries and was rapidly approaching a self checkout register when I slipped in what appeared to be applesauce. And I fell. Hard. And it was pretty funny, but also a little painful because I hit my foot on the register.

But I wasn't mad or upset or anything, just amused and slightly in pain. So I grabbed an employee and we investigated and what I actually slipped in was chicken grease. And I feel like whatever customer left that puddle of chicken grease there probably knew about it and I have to say, I'm a little disappointed that they didn't tell anyone.

Anyhow. I posted a status update on the facebook (judge away, I don't care!) that said, "I slipped in chicken grease and fell in the grocery store. Gettin' down on Friday." Now. Some of you may recognize the phrase "gettin' down on Friday" as a line from the now infamous Rebecca Black song, "Friday." If you don't know what I'm talking about, consider yourself lucky.

I thought I'd made a pretty decent joke (for me, a comedic try-too-harder). However, all my dummy facebook friends just started blabbing about how I should sue the store and I could get lots of money, and which store was I in? So I posted, "Just to be clear. When I said “gettin’ down on Friday” I meant it in the literal sense, as in “gettin’ down close to the floor because I just slipped and fell in chicken grease and today just so happens to be Friday.” "

And then no one responded which I guess just goes to show that I'm not funny and I should probably quit trying to make jokes on facebook because it's completely pointless and also my friends need to chill out about slipping and falling in stores and not get so sue happy because hey, it happens to everyone. (Right?)

Okay, one last thing, then I'm done updating you on my really important life issues.

I work in downtown Portland, across from a shmancy hotel called the Hotel Vintage Plaza. The Hotel Vintage Plaza has two hot tubs on the roof. I can see both of them. In fact, allllllllllllll the buildings around the Hotel Vintage Plaza can see those hot tubs. THEY ARE NOT PRIVATE HOT TUBS.

The other morning I was hard at work, staring out the window when I noticed a young gentleman prepping his rooftop hot tub. Nice! Hot tub time, I was jelly! Although I did think 11:00 in the morning on a Tuesday seemed a little early for hot tubbing. But whatever, I'd hot tub all the time in this crappy weather if I could!

And, okay, I wasn't really spying, but I ended up on the phone and was just casually staring out the window, when I suddenly noticed the Mr. Hot Tubber was fully nude. Wait, what's that? Yes. I said it. FULLY. NUDE. Standing on the edge of his hot tub, testing the water. Not a care in the world.

Basically just showing his dong off to half of downtown Portland (yes, "all of downtown Portland" is an exaggeration, but still, that hotel can be seen by so many office buildings!).

Anyway. So that was totally weird and only slightly upsetting.

A girl joined him later but I missed that party.

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