watch out. she's a long one.
Weekend recap, one day late
Friday night, I arrived home and prepared myself for cooking for the rest of the night. However, I ended up being convinced into “just one beer” by Dave Tocco and his roommate Aaron Pots. The only reason I know all the boys’ last names is because they all refuse to call each other by their first names; thus I’ve also taken to randomly selecting first name, last name, or first and last name to refer to them. Occasionally I’ll even throw in a nickname.
Anyway, after 1 Guinness, 1 New England something er something, and a Stella (STELLA!), we ventured to Arturo’s for nachos. A quick drive home around 1, and it was pretty cemented that my “getting a head start” on the cooking wasn’t happening.
Saturday I woke early (well, any time before noon is early for a weekend) at 8 to head to the laundromat to have clean towels for my guest. After one tiger tail and NesQuik from a local bakery, 3 weeks worth of laundry, 1 broken English conversation, 3 pay phone calls by 2 local Slavic ladies and a Puerto Rican miss, and 1 crazy lady who took 20 minutes to load a washer because she kept taking clothes off to put into it, I was ready to leave to start the cooking.
A final sweep around the house and decisions to omit a few wall hangings later, and I was finger-deep in meatballs. And they were good. At 6 PM, but by the end of the night, the once delicious homemade artery cloggers had dried up to meteorites, covered in a delectible sweet BBQ sauce.
The black bean salsa was a hit, as usual, the guacamole went fast, and the antipasto bites were barely served before gone. The pizza dip was loved by all (save me), the artichoke dip made its way slowly out in the night, and the crab dip was pretty much ignored. The orange-cappuccino fudge was an interesting treat, for about half a bite. Then, it was just weird and not loveable. I will never make this again. As for the hummus, one of the containers was overwrought with blue velvet fuzz, so only the unopened container made it to the table.
Erin arrived early around 5, then Rashid, Austin, TN, and Laura. My mother, George, my brother, and his wife arrived next. We “enjoyed” each others company. By this I mean, my mother lectured me, demanded I give her my copy of “Lady and the Tramp” for my nephew (despite my sister’s plan to buy him one soon), requested (firmly) that I give one of the 2 things my father betrothed to me on his deathbed to my brother who didn't speak to my dad for 10 years, and drank 3 glasses of wine while her “alcoholic” husband restrained. Oh the irony of it all.
I bought a bottle of wine (no one drank it), a 12-pack of 312 Goose Island, an 8-pack of Guinness (my saving graces for post-George time), 2 cases of Miller Lite, 1 case of Bud Light, and had Bacardi and Capt’n Morgan but left those alone. I received 2 bottles of Arbor Mist and a box of Frangos (no you can’t have any) from mi mama, 1 half-case of Corona/Heineken from my brother (leftover from his house-warming) and a bottle of wine (drinken by a friend and not one drop had by me), and a lovely candle (mandarin-tea scent-worth checking out at Pier 1) from my friend’s roommate’s girlfriend, Jenny (got that?). I, in my drunken stupor, thought more beer was necessary, so the request was made and Jeff picked some up prior to his arrival. I had 2 cases left in the morning, giving ½ a case away to my Indy folk. I also have gained their remaining lemon vodka and some other flavored gin, left in my fridge. I’ve also scored myself a brown ribbed sweater should anyone be looking for one.
I thank everyone who came, and bite my thumb at those of you promising to come and backing out. Okay, Jen Cousins has an excuse (5 hours of tattoo). And Shannon too. She’s preggers. She can use that card for the next 4 months. But the rest of you missed out on a good time. Tough titties for you.
At one point, I actually looked around and thought, “Wow, I know this many people?” Then I realized, no, I know this many people who know more people who want free booze. I’ll take what I can get.
Though I know I have tomboy characteristics, it was never more apparent than when I looked around my party of 30-40 people and saw a total of 7 girls, myself included. I’m okay with this, but I’m assuming most dudes aren’t at parties or bars to hang out with other dudes (unless this is B-Dubbs of course). So, around 12 the party emptied like your bowels after a 5-day Mexican food binger. I was left with a few close friends and a few stragglers who I was, at the time, happy to take on.
After having “talks” with my little drunk friend who didn’t understand the meaning of “inside voices,” a few friends and their friends straggled in. A short time later, it was known that the drunk girl with them apparently “loves cock,” a booty dance was encouraged by Jen A, and this girl, a friend’s roomie, found the guy I’m dating to be of utmost interest to her. A few laser beam glances and short grumpy words later (think the “c” word people), and they were on their way home. Yes, I apologize now, but at the time, I had been up since 8 AM cooking for my party, entertaining, suffering a visit from mom and George and Matt (Yesenia’s okay) without the aid of my sisters. It was pretty rough, and I kept trying to hold out for the sake of the party, but I just couldn’t. I mean, I even snapped at Jeff and he hadn’t really done anything wrong.
A few minutes after setting up bedding for my friends from Indy who had departed for the bar/club in hopes of finding life more energetic outside my party, and I was off to Jeff’s to sleep.
I was woken by Erin’s request for breakfast, and a short time later, went home to search some out. Unfortunately, salami, stale Cocoa Puffs, and Graham crackers wouldn’t do it. Erin, Zach, and Lindsey left for home (Austin, Rashid, TN, and Laura had left earlier). I went to Big Bowl with Tyler, Jen C, and Titus, and shared the wealth of information that is shared herein.
I’ve had a lot of time to think lately, namely from my commute to/from work via car or train, and I’ve realized that I can’t make my mind up about anything. I have awful horrible nightmares, the ones that make you shaky in the morning and wonder if you’re really awake or not.
I’ve been stressed about work, my new apartment, my car, my bills, my family, my relationships, my friends, everything. This is not how I like living. I’m tired all the time and sleepy all the time so I start the coffee/sleeping pill cycle.
I have 3 doctor’s to treat a myriad of ailments. In fact, I have an appointment tomorrow morning for one of my specialist. I spend over $85/month on medicine. I take anywhere from 3 to 12 pills a day, and I still always feel like shit. Is there something wrong with me... really? Why do I like feeling sick or finding ailments that are only minor. Do I make these more than what they appear to be? All I know is that I am the pharmacist’s daughter.
I work in an industry that tells people “it’s okay if you have these diseases... taking medicine for it is not shameful.” But then I’m in a meeting last week talking about Phase 1 drug trials when my coworkers mock the subjects in the trial. I tried to politely remind them that without the “crazy” people who take these drugs for the pharmacy companies, no drugs would ever be marketed. I just found it to be highly inappropriate that we have the double standard that we want people to take our medicines and feel comfortable about doing so. Then we turn our backs on the people who helped make it possible. Sometimes the industry in which I work makes me sick. Sometimes I am proud to work for it. And sometimes I wish I could start my own company that wouldn’t thrive on greed or politics to get what it wanted. Is it really worth it to pay off so many politicians to allow fewer restrictions on the pharma industry if it prevents your customer, the greater public, to trust you?
I think the pharma industry is presenting awful images to the American people. I think they are one of the reasons for such negative images in corporate America. I try to fight it in the best way I can by living my own life the way I want (tattooed and young and still in a position of knowledge and making a good living), but by accepting a higher income, am I merely enabling that image to continue? I don’t dress fancy. I don’t drive a fancy car. I don’t get my hair and nails done frequently (or at all). But I certainly don’t complain about the free donuts, desserts, meals, etc.
I like working for a pharmaceutical company because I like to think that the drugs that I work on positively influence people’s quality of life. However, at what expense does the American public have to pay for that bagel, smear, and morning coffee? How many more thousands could we have donated to hurricane, vaccination, or compassionate use efforts?
Just thought I’d share some of my thoughts with you.
Next topic: why do people at my work think the ladies’ room double for a conference room. I’ll attack this one tomorrow.
Friday night, I arrived home and prepared myself for cooking for the rest of the night. However, I ended up being convinced into “just one beer” by Dave Tocco and his roommate Aaron Pots. The only reason I know all the boys’ last names is because they all refuse to call each other by their first names; thus I’ve also taken to randomly selecting first name, last name, or first and last name to refer to them. Occasionally I’ll even throw in a nickname.
Anyway, after 1 Guinness, 1 New England something er something, and a Stella (STELLA!), we ventured to Arturo’s for nachos. A quick drive home around 1, and it was pretty cemented that my “getting a head start” on the cooking wasn’t happening.
Saturday I woke early (well, any time before noon is early for a weekend) at 8 to head to the laundromat to have clean towels for my guest. After one tiger tail and NesQuik from a local bakery, 3 weeks worth of laundry, 1 broken English conversation, 3 pay phone calls by 2 local Slavic ladies and a Puerto Rican miss, and 1 crazy lady who took 20 minutes to load a washer because she kept taking clothes off to put into it, I was ready to leave to start the cooking.
A final sweep around the house and decisions to omit a few wall hangings later, and I was finger-deep in meatballs. And they were good. At 6 PM, but by the end of the night, the once delicious homemade artery cloggers had dried up to meteorites, covered in a delectible sweet BBQ sauce.
The black bean salsa was a hit, as usual, the guacamole went fast, and the antipasto bites were barely served before gone. The pizza dip was loved by all (save me), the artichoke dip made its way slowly out in the night, and the crab dip was pretty much ignored. The orange-cappuccino fudge was an interesting treat, for about half a bite. Then, it was just weird and not loveable. I will never make this again. As for the hummus, one of the containers was overwrought with blue velvet fuzz, so only the unopened container made it to the table.
Erin arrived early around 5, then Rashid, Austin, TN, and Laura. My mother, George, my brother, and his wife arrived next. We “enjoyed” each others company. By this I mean, my mother lectured me, demanded I give her my copy of “Lady and the Tramp” for my nephew (despite my sister’s plan to buy him one soon), requested (firmly) that I give one of the 2 things my father betrothed to me on his deathbed to my brother who didn't speak to my dad for 10 years, and drank 3 glasses of wine while her “alcoholic” husband restrained. Oh the irony of it all.
I bought a bottle of wine (no one drank it), a 12-pack of 312 Goose Island, an 8-pack of Guinness (my saving graces for post-George time), 2 cases of Miller Lite, 1 case of Bud Light, and had Bacardi and Capt’n Morgan but left those alone. I received 2 bottles of Arbor Mist and a box of Frangos (no you can’t have any) from mi mama, 1 half-case of Corona/Heineken from my brother (leftover from his house-warming) and a bottle of wine (drinken by a friend and not one drop had by me), and a lovely candle (mandarin-tea scent-worth checking out at Pier 1) from my friend’s roommate’s girlfriend, Jenny (got that?). I, in my drunken stupor, thought more beer was necessary, so the request was made and Jeff picked some up prior to his arrival. I had 2 cases left in the morning, giving ½ a case away to my Indy folk. I also have gained their remaining lemon vodka and some other flavored gin, left in my fridge. I’ve also scored myself a brown ribbed sweater should anyone be looking for one.
I thank everyone who came, and bite my thumb at those of you promising to come and backing out. Okay, Jen Cousins has an excuse (5 hours of tattoo). And Shannon too. She’s preggers. She can use that card for the next 4 months. But the rest of you missed out on a good time. Tough titties for you.
At one point, I actually looked around and thought, “Wow, I know this many people?” Then I realized, no, I know this many people who know more people who want free booze. I’ll take what I can get.
Though I know I have tomboy characteristics, it was never more apparent than when I looked around my party of 30-40 people and saw a total of 7 girls, myself included. I’m okay with this, but I’m assuming most dudes aren’t at parties or bars to hang out with other dudes (unless this is B-Dubbs of course). So, around 12 the party emptied like your bowels after a 5-day Mexican food binger. I was left with a few close friends and a few stragglers who I was, at the time, happy to take on.
After having “talks” with my little drunk friend who didn’t understand the meaning of “inside voices,” a few friends and their friends straggled in. A short time later, it was known that the drunk girl with them apparently “loves cock,” a booty dance was encouraged by Jen A, and this girl, a friend’s roomie, found the guy I’m dating to be of utmost interest to her. A few laser beam glances and short grumpy words later (think the “c” word people), and they were on their way home. Yes, I apologize now, but at the time, I had been up since 8 AM cooking for my party, entertaining, suffering a visit from mom and George and Matt (Yesenia’s okay) without the aid of my sisters. It was pretty rough, and I kept trying to hold out for the sake of the party, but I just couldn’t. I mean, I even snapped at Jeff and he hadn’t really done anything wrong.
A few minutes after setting up bedding for my friends from Indy who had departed for the bar/club in hopes of finding life more energetic outside my party, and I was off to Jeff’s to sleep.
I was woken by Erin’s request for breakfast, and a short time later, went home to search some out. Unfortunately, salami, stale Cocoa Puffs, and Graham crackers wouldn’t do it. Erin, Zach, and Lindsey left for home (Austin, Rashid, TN, and Laura had left earlier). I went to Big Bowl with Tyler, Jen C, and Titus, and shared the wealth of information that is shared herein.
I’ve had a lot of time to think lately, namely from my commute to/from work via car or train, and I’ve realized that I can’t make my mind up about anything. I have awful horrible nightmares, the ones that make you shaky in the morning and wonder if you’re really awake or not.
I’ve been stressed about work, my new apartment, my car, my bills, my family, my relationships, my friends, everything. This is not how I like living. I’m tired all the time and sleepy all the time so I start the coffee/sleeping pill cycle.
I have 3 doctor’s to treat a myriad of ailments. In fact, I have an appointment tomorrow morning for one of my specialist. I spend over $85/month on medicine. I take anywhere from 3 to 12 pills a day, and I still always feel like shit. Is there something wrong with me... really? Why do I like feeling sick or finding ailments that are only minor. Do I make these more than what they appear to be? All I know is that I am the pharmacist’s daughter.
I work in an industry that tells people “it’s okay if you have these diseases... taking medicine for it is not shameful.” But then I’m in a meeting last week talking about Phase 1 drug trials when my coworkers mock the subjects in the trial. I tried to politely remind them that without the “crazy” people who take these drugs for the pharmacy companies, no drugs would ever be marketed. I just found it to be highly inappropriate that we have the double standard that we want people to take our medicines and feel comfortable about doing so. Then we turn our backs on the people who helped make it possible. Sometimes the industry in which I work makes me sick. Sometimes I am proud to work for it. And sometimes I wish I could start my own company that wouldn’t thrive on greed or politics to get what it wanted. Is it really worth it to pay off so many politicians to allow fewer restrictions on the pharma industry if it prevents your customer, the greater public, to trust you?
I think the pharma industry is presenting awful images to the American people. I think they are one of the reasons for such negative images in corporate America. I try to fight it in the best way I can by living my own life the way I want (tattooed and young and still in a position of knowledge and making a good living), but by accepting a higher income, am I merely enabling that image to continue? I don’t dress fancy. I don’t drive a fancy car. I don’t get my hair and nails done frequently (or at all). But I certainly don’t complain about the free donuts, desserts, meals, etc.
I like working for a pharmaceutical company because I like to think that the drugs that I work on positively influence people’s quality of life. However, at what expense does the American public have to pay for that bagel, smear, and morning coffee? How many more thousands could we have donated to hurricane, vaccination, or compassionate use efforts?
Just thought I’d share some of my thoughts with you.
Next topic: why do people at my work think the ladies’ room double for a conference room. I’ll attack this one tomorrow.