me: "geez dad! why did your stupid ancestors decide to move to lame, unhappy america anyways?" dad: "religion." me: ".... oh... right... ok then."
me: "hey nicky! guess where the happiest place in the world is." nicky: "fiji!" me: no. nicky: "australia?" me: "nope. denmark." nicky: "really?" me: "yep." nicky: "hu." me: "apparently it's because they have low expectations." nicky: "isn't marijuana legal there?" me: "apparently it's because they have low expectations and weed."
about a week ago i was cornered by someone at work- we'll call him "crazy pants"- who wanted to know what i thought was going to happen with our company's website and if i thought we needed a "big picture person" and didn't i think he'd be great in that capacity? and then crazy pants started talking about how his life hasn't turned out like he'd expected it to and that's why he relates to my boss because obviously my boss's life hasn't turned out as expected either. later that same night i was catching up on the phone with one of my favorite people of all time and as we finished up i said one of my awkward phone fillers like, "it's all coming together" or "it's gonna happen" or whatever it is i say because pauses in phone conversations make me uncomfortable and she said, "you know, i've been waiting for things to come together and they never do... my life is so not turning out how i expected it to." fair enough. i quickly commiserated. afterall, my life isn't turning out the way i expected either. but when i got off the phone i thought about it and that's not necessarily true because i don't honestly know what i expect my life to be. for the last few years it seems like i'm more focused on what i think other people expect my life to be and, regardless of whether or not my assumptions are valid, i use those assumed expectations as my measuring stick. and, big surprise, most times i fail to meet those expectations. i don't believe the key to happiness is lowered expectations. obviously. but i do believe surrounding myself with false expectations causes a lot of my discontent.
i don't know. feedback?
this commercial continually makes me laugh. now, you might think this has nothing to do with what i just wrote but you'd be wrong because it takes place in norway. which is scandinavian. like denmark. totally applicable.
when juan works at a candy factory juan, not surprisingly, comes into contact with, you know, a lot of candy. trade shows, neighboring companies, new products, vendors, sales reps... there's a lot of candy out there. and if juan grew up obsessed with, well, food in general but especially chocolate, then sampling chocolate covered espresso beans, dark chocolate/chili pepper candy bars, lava truffles, and even chocolate bacon bars would be a dream job. but even if juan has an unusually high tolerance for the wonderfully weird of the candy world, juan has to draw a line somewhere. and that line is the dark chocolate, fig, fennel, and almond bar. with two squirrels on the label. holding a fig. with hearts squirting out of it.
did you guys ever see that episode of "newsradio" where bill is all, "juan knows these things." and dave's all, "juan who?" and bill's like, "not juan. one." this was kind of an homage to that.
i'm looking forward to comments from "hugh". ... i'm boring today.
i flew to anaheim sunday morning to go to a trade show. and let me tell you, it was all business.
work, work, work. that's all i ever do.
no fun was had.
except the fun of working and working hard.
monday no alarm. miracle.
i've only had one quasi celebrity siting in my life. and i don't know how much that one counts because nobody believed me. thank heavens i was carrying a camera around with me because the tradeshow i went to was a huge draw to the red carpet set. and now i have proof! here's a picture of people ogling dr. quinn medicine woman. and here's a picture of people staring at vanna white. hard. evidence.
tuesday back in utah.
1. should i be worried by my familiarity with the wendys drive thru employees? 2. nothing says "i love you" like the phrase "wanna do it?" written in frosting on a chocolate truffle heart.
wednesday got done with work at 7 pm.
after i got off work my 40 minute commute to slc took me 5 hours.
let's think about that for a second. FIVE HOURS. no really. think about it.
we will seriously wait right here until you think about it.
and for anyone else who was stuck in the commute from hell wednesday night, i'm sorry. i was right there with you. seriously people. i almost died. not because of the "dangerous" "hurricane speed winds" or the "snow drifts" or the "idiots" who "think" "four wheel drive" "equals" "invincibility" (maybe my chris farley impressions don't really cross over into written form.) but because it took me four and a half hours to go 10 miles (yes, that's a little over 2 miles an hour. yes, i could have walked faster. yes, i did the math in my head as i sat in my car gnawing on a peanut butter truffle heart for nourishment) and i was so frustrated i just stopped living. well. almost.
near death experience. i am not prone to hyperbole. and i am not copying spliz's blog.
thursday alarm set for 4 am.
working at a chocolate factory has killed christmas and seriously maimed halloween for me. but i'm happy to say that even when it's combined with lack of sleep and having to explain 127 times that no i'm not writing on little cakes but on heart shaped chocolate and yes, yes i am very talented thank you for having the clarity to recognize that, and no i don't know where the forever 21 is located.... working at a chocolate factory cannot and will not beat the valentine's day out of me. i love valentine's day. i love that you celebrate it by wearing pink and eating cinnamon candy. i don't even care that my left hand fell off at approximately 7:30 pm because love was in the air (yes, you should be humming the song (loudly (and with gumption)) even though rumor has it it should never be played (which totally goes against my ownership of the "strictly ballroom" soundtrack but whatever)) and valentine's day miracles abounded (really and truly. maybe i'll talk about it later.) as did chocolate covered strawberries.
friday alarm was slept through. and rightfully so.
i even managed to hit snooze on ziggy. he tried to wake my up at 8:30 and i managed to convince him to sleep for another half hour. 1. should i be worried that i ordered something new at arbys but they still gave me the meal i usually order every other time i go there? 2. that's really all i've got so far.
my new favorite quote from a news article entitled cia's harsh interrogation techniques described... "the detainees were also forced to listen to rap artist eminem's 'slim shady' album. the music was so foreign to them it made them frantic, sources said." been there.
getting up into the triple digit ounces with my diet coke consumption.
today is dingdong's last day. and i will tell you truly i've been really upset about her leaving because seriously what am i going to write about?
well i'll tell you what i'm going to write about. i am going to write about the other dysfunctional aspects of my life. that's right dingdong, go ahead and go because i don't need you!
we had a goodbye/happy baby lunch for her 5 minutes ago. select employees gathered in the conference room to eat sandwiches, a large chocolatey cake. scott sat down next to me and said, "kat! i have some good news for you!" "you do?" "i know someone who wants to call you!" "... what?" "not just call you, like, i know someone who wants to ask you out!" "what? who?" "steve from w.f. [a neighboring candy factory. they specialize in gummy products.]" "...wait...who?" "he told told ron [our delivery driver] he thought you were cute." nicky interjected, "how do you know steve from w.f.?" and how do i know steve from w.f.? i stopped by w.f. a few days ago to pick up a several cases of gummy bears and some guy helped me fit the cases into my two door car. i am assuming "some guy" is steve. so, like, i totally felt a connection too. scott would not be deterred, "so here is steve's number. he gave it to ron who gave it cheesecake who gave it to me."
the owner's wife looked around the conference room at the lack of other conversation and then at me, "how does it feel to be in the hot spot?" i looked at steve from w.f.'s number. "like every other day of my life."