Birdwalk

Chat somewhere else, whydontcha?

(Warning: if you're tired of hearing me talk about poop, don't read this.)

So yesterday I'm at work and 10:30 rolls around, which means it's time for me to visit the bathroom. As previously discussed on this blog, I am really regular (and damn proud of it) but when I have to go, I HAVE TO GO. Otherwise the whole system gets messed up and I work too frickin' hard keeping things moving to allow that to happen. So I grab my keys and make my way to the bathroom. I may even have been whistling a happy tune, I can't remember.

My office shares this bathroom with several other offices on our floor, all legal offices. It seems that my office building is just a hive of lawyerly activity, and more law firms move in every day. But I digress. I walk into the bathroom only to find two women (very well dressed, but one is wearing way too much lipliner which makes me assume that they are not actually lawyers but maybe assistants or paralegals or something along those lines) standing in front of the sinks, deep in conversation. They are not on their way in. They are not on their way out. They are not using the sinks, they are not applying makeup. It is clear that they have come to the bathroom for the sole purpose of having a private, whispered, very intense conversation. They look up at me when I come in and quickly get back to whispering.

Now, I can think of many places that would be a pleasant place to linger and chat with a co-worker...but the windowless bathroom is not one of them. This is not a large bathroom. They are standing literally inches from the metal wall of the first stall (also known as "my stall" because I read somewhere that the stall closest to the door is the cleanest and now I can't go any place else.)

I now have a problem. Because I HAVE TO GO. And I could tell immediately that these two aren't anywhere close to leaving. The smart thing to do would be to turn around and leave and hustle over to the other bathroom on the other side of the floor -- but then they'd know that I was leaving just because I didn't want to use the bathroom while they're in there, and that would be embarrassing. From then on, every time I ran into them in the parking lot or the elevator or whatever they'd snicker and say, "Hey, there's that girl, the shy pooper!" But I couldn't do what I needed to do with them in there, either. (For the record: it's not a long, messy process by any means but I do need a just moment's peace to accomplish it, otherwise I simply can't. It just won't happen if I have an audience.)

So what I ended up doing was retreating to a stall and just sitting there, hoping they'd leave, and eavesdropping on their very boring conversation. It was all "the partners" and "he said WHAT?" and frankly I couldn't make heads or tails of it but I couldn't see any reason why this little chat couldn't have taken place anywhere else. After a while, it must have become clear that I had gone in and wasn't leaving...they must have known that I was waiting for them to clear out...but they just kept talking...every now and then I'd hear feet shuffling, and I'd think, oh, thank God they're leaving...but they'd just keep talking and talking and talking...at one point I thought, I'm going to have to leave and go somewhere else, but by then I'm so paranoid that I'm thinking they'd notice that I didn't actually do anything and then they'd point and laugh anyway...plus there was always the chance that I might get all the way to the other bathroom only to find that I couldn't go...I was totally stuck, couldn't do what I came to do, couldn't leave, all I could do was sit there and contemplate my cuticles....meanwhile I'm getting more and more pissed...I mean, how RUDE...don't they know that some people need a little PRIVACY for pete's sake...I even thought about yelling out of the stall, "Hey, why don't you take that outside, huh?" but then realized almost immediately that that would make the situation even worse....I mean, why would you want to have a long talk in there, in a closed room, with people coming in and out and peeing and pooping and all the associated noises and smells...I simply cannot think of an environment less conducive to conversation...meanwhile I just feel foolish....sitting there....waiting...

Finally someone else came in to use the bathroom and provided a distraction so I took that opportunity to do what I came to do. When I left, they were still talking. I mean, yes, having such specific conditions for pooping is strange but hiding in the ladies room to have a meeeting is kinda odd, too.

To the victor go the spoils...er...swine...

We won this on the boardwalk at Point Pleasant. If everyone in the background looks kinda wilted its because it was approximately eight thousand degrees and 200% humidity at the time.

(Beamed in from my cellphone.)

Incoherent, pain-induced ramblings

It is Sunday morning, I have a headache as a result of grinding my teeth all night, so I'm lying in a darkened room with my dog and we're watching SpongeBob Squarepants and waiting for the Advil to kick in and I thought I'd rid my brain of the random thoughts and observances floating around in there and see if that helps.

The blog is always greener

In some ways, I wish I had kept this blog secret and anonymous because I find myself not writing about a lot of the stuff I'd really like to write about because lots of people I know read it and I wouldn't want to hurt someone's feelings or alienate someone or lose my job or whatever. But then nobody would read the damn blog in the first place so it's a Catch-22. So, anyway, because of the narrow margin of acceptable topics, I am usually embarrassed about the lack of good content that appears here. Well, no more. I've been doing a lot of blog-surfing lately and I cannot believe the absolute crap that is out there. I can't believe what some people think other people are interested in, and I can't believe that other people actually read that crap! And then they leave these fawning comments about what a great writer the blogger is -- as if this is an issue of Atlantic Monthly they've been reading. Are you kidding me?

Stuff you may not know about me (or care to)

So, in keeping with the "self-absorbed stuff nobody really cares about" theme, here are a few things you may not know about me that you may or may not find interesting.

I love cartoons. I'm not kidding about watching SpongeBob (although I just switched to watching Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends, my favorite cartoon) and I don't just watch, I actually laugh out loud from time to time. Writing for a cartoon would be one of my top three dream jobs.

My other two dream jobs are...seeing eye dog trainer and dog walker. Those of you who are observant will note the common element in those jobs, which is PEOPLE, or, rather a total lack of them.

I sometimes go to the stable at the end of the day just to watch the horses run out into the pasture. I stand there by myself and watch them all pass me and I say hi to all of them as they pass. Sometimes one comes over to the fence and says hi back.

I was a complete and total outcast in high school. And I have never really stopped feeling like a misfit ever since.

I love the sound of breaking glass. The more expensive the better. I recently broke a good wineglass and I relived the moment for days and days afterward.

I love to clean. I don't mean I love a clean house. I mean I love the actual act of cleaning. I have a specific order of tasks to be done on certain days and nothing makes me more satisfied than starting at the beginning and finishing the entire roster of things and ending up with everything spic and span and in its place.

I am a sucker for any product calling itself an "organizer". I recently had to stop myself from purchasing an item called a "remote organizer" that hangs over the side of the sofa and has little pockets for each remote.

I am addicted to Fruit2O. And I recently renewed my membership at Costco because I found out that they sell Fruit2O by the case in the 20 ounce size. I rarely go anywhere without at leasat one bottle of Fruit2O and have been known to take entire six packs on vacation. When I know I've got an adequate supply of Fruit2O at home and work, I feel that all is right with the world.

I used to have a stalker. For real, I'm not exaggerating. After two years of this guy harassing me in ever-escalating, scarier ways, I finally found out that he was the FedEx guy from my job. The whole ordeal left me with a total and utter mistrust of strangers (I am not nice to strangers anymore and almost never make eye contact, I am leery of giving out personal info that could be used to help a person find me, that sort of thing) and a deep-seated feeling of vulnerability. I hate sleeping in a house without an alarm, and I never answer the phone w/ out checking the caller ID first. Recently a friend left a note on my car window and the sight of the thing sitting on my windshield pretty much stopped my heart for a second.

One final thought:

Last night I was watching the Home Shopping Network and they were hawking this Wolfgang Puck Seven Cup Rice Cooker and he was talking about how you can make macaroni and cheese in it. Of course I missed the part where he showed you how to do that, I just saw them consuming the finished product. Anyone have any idea how I would make that in my very own miraculous Zojirushi fuzzy logic rice cooker?

I have seen the enemy, and it has enormous ears

Several weeks ago I noticed that all the shrubs outside the condo were shrinking. The shape looked roughly the same, but they seemed to be getting steadily smaller. I thought maybe I was imagining it, but eventually it became clear: they were getting smaller.

Also, the flowers on my hydrangea suddenly disappeared. This was especially disconcerting because this particular shrub had finally decided to set buds after two years of no bloomage whatsoever, and I was overjoyed to see the flowers getting bigger and bigger. I was looking forward to seeing them open, and I will admit to harboring Martha Stewart fantasies of drying them and proudly displaying them in a tasteful vase in my house somewhere. But I woke up one morning and they were all gone. Just like that.

I figured something had to be eating them, but what?

Finally, one evening I looked out my window and I had my answer. Twins. There were two identical twin fawns calmly grazing on the shrub buffet right outside my condo. Of course I took pictures.