Day 14: Timestamp of New Year's Eve (so far, anyway)

5:45AM: I wake up to my beeping alarm clock.  I turn off my fan (white noise), hear something in the living room, think Is someone in my apartment?, and open my bedroom door to see my roommate standing on the balcony off of the living room, smoking.  At 5:45 AM.  Nice. 
7:20am: I leave for work.  I wonder about "Mr. Anonymous."  Who is he?
7:25am: I stop at Biggby Coffee to help jump-start my day.
7:27am: I order a "grande soy Neopolitan latte, no whip" which brings an immediate smile to Dan, who originally concocted said latte for me (when I ordered a "surprise me" latte) a week ago.
7:28am: My debit card is declined.  I use a different form of payment.
7:40am: I arrive at work via the "scenic route."  Latte in one hand, Chutes & Ladders in the other (today was supposed to be "game day" at lunch).
7:45am: Bewildered by my declined debit card, I check my bank account online and find that I am experiencing a very unexpected (and rather sizable) financial fiasco.
7:50am: I inform Ariane of said fiasco.  She supports me in my outrage (that's why I love her).
8:00am: I attempt to do some work.  I think about "Mr. Anonymous" again.
8:15am: I inform Sarah of said fiasco.  She, too, supports me in my outrage (that's why I love her as well!)
8:20am: The three of us determine that a certain Cookie's fiance works in our building.
8:22am: Ariane and I witness a strange encounter between aforementioned Cookie and fiance.
8:59am: The only five people in my department who are working today (myself and four others) head down to SB3 for morning recess.  Very few Cookies are present.
9:30-ish am: We return to our office from recess.
9:40-ish am: Sarah, Ariane, and I go for a walk through the back hallways at work (I was freezing and needed some exercise to warm up).
9:55am: We run across some male coworkers who were invited to come out with us for drinks last night.  I tell them we missed them (though I was secretly happy they had bailed, leaving just us girls).
10:00am: I continue attempting to work.
10:30am: Still attempting.
11:00am: Still attempting...  and thinking about "Mr. Anonymous."
11:30am: I talk with my sister, and we play the "6 degrees" game regarding people that we work with. (6 degrees: How are you connected with John Doe?  John Doe knows Sally Camel, who works with John Jacob, who sold his house to Elmer Fudd, who played softball with your boyfriend)
11:45am: I find out that a new Cookie (AKA "Snickerdoodle") is married with a child.  (Then please refrain from smiling at me, Mr. Snickerdoodle.)
11:46am: I begin to develop an aversion to many of the Cookies that I work with.  (If you're taken, then please don't be a flirty flirt.  It would save me some time.)
11:49am: I ask Ariane if she thinks "Mr. Anonymous" is actually our boss. She says no.
11:50am: The boss's boss comes through our office and tells Ariane and I something about arriving/ leaving early.  I don't hear him, but I assume Ariane did.  Turns out Ariane didn't hear him, but she assumed I did.
12:00pm: Sarah, Ariane, and I go to lunch.  Ariane brings the board game Sorry!
12:05pm: I get upset.  I didn't bring a lunch because Friday is "Nacho Day" and my current financial fiasco doesn't allow me to purchase said nachos.  So I fix myself a water-cooler cup of Chia seeds ("rock-snot," as Ariane calls it) and devour it.  Saddest lunch ever.
12:15pm: We collaboratively determine that our boss said we could leave whenever.  We decide against playing Sorry!, and decide to quit lunch and leave for the day.
12:20pm: We head back to the office, I finish up some things, consider heading home.  Everyone else is excited to go home.  I'm not excited-- I've got nothing to go home to, like they all do.  My friends are all out of town (including my 2 human roommates), and I've got no boyfriend waiting for me (as if it weren't obvious... have you even read any of my Cookie blogs?  I'm obviously single). 
12:50pm: I head to the bank to deposit my paycheck.  The teller says, "Oh!  I like your earrinngggss... earring.  Earring?  Earring."  She's confused by my one dangly earring.
1:15pm: I make the mistake of going to Kohl's to try to return something.
1:17pm: I see the "Return" line at Guest Services inside the store.
1:17pm: I leave.
1:25pm: I arrive at home.  My roommate's car is in the parking lot.  I wonder what she's been doing all day.
1:26pm: I open the door to my apartment.  It smells like cigarette smoke; mystery solved.
1:28pm: I consider doing laundry.  I decide against laundry.
1:29pm: I put on my comfy clothes and look for food that's not seeds.
1:45pm: I climb into bed and pop in New Moon because it makes me believe that there's someone out there for me... someone like Jacob Black or Edward Cullen (haha).  Someone who's not married or engaged.  Someone with no kids.  Someone who's not a complete tool.  Does he even exist? 
1:50pm: I open my trusty laptop and begin typing so that I may finish today's blog and settle in for a long winter's nap-- until 8:00, when I must awaken and head to Shakespeare's at 8:45, so that I may serve alcohol and fried food to inebriated patrons until the wee hours.


...Is it really New Year's Eve?  Doesn't feel like it.  I'm hoping to feel a little more positive by 2011.  Serving drinks till 2am.  Could be worse, right?  I'll feel better once I'm at work.  My coworkers are fun, and they'll be the perfect group to be with at midnight.  Even if we're all playing "servant." 

And surely you’ll buy your pint cup !

and surely I’ll buy mine !

And we'll take a cup o’ kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

Day 13: This is the Greatest Night Ever!

I went out for drinks this afternoon/ evening with my two best friends from work :)  It was amazing.  We were expecting more guests to join us, but no one showed.  And to be honest, I'm quite glad they didn't.  We enjoyed nearly four hours of eating, drinking, talking, and LAUGHING.  Similar to what we do at work (minus the drinking, quite obviously).

It was tonight that we discussed (among other things) catchphrases-- you know, the things that you hear the same people say over and over again.

In particular, we discussed our catchphrases.  We collaborated and decided that my own personal key catchphrases are as follows:

"This is the greatest ____ ever!"  (Insert noun: likely to be day/night/week.)
"Did you know..."  (I like fun facts and I offer them as often as possible.)
"I tell you that to tell you this."  (I usually have a story or twelve, and one story often leads to another.  This is my go-to segue.)

I assume that there are many different types of people with many different types of catchphrases.  If the above three phrases are the ones my best friends know me for, then I'm quite satisfied.  Thank you, Sarah and Ariane, for giving me "the greatest night ever!" 

To my dear readers: what's YOUR catchphrase?  I can't wait to hear your responses :)

Day 12: Mon Petit Schmetterling

This summer, a Guatemalan mime told me that he considered "butterfly" to be the most beautiful word in any language.  I agree. 
English: butterfly
French: papillon
Spanish: mariposa
Filipino: paruparo
Portuguese: borboleta
Italian: farfalla
Romanian: fluture (pronounced like "future," but with an L)
Greek: petaluodia
Russian: babochka (sound familiar?)
Sign language: "interlock thumbs, and flap hands like wings" (haha)
Danish: sommerfugl

Since I've been studying German lately, I've been caught saying "Schmetterling" on random occasions.  In turn, my dear coworker, Ariane, has begun saying "Schmetterling" as well.  It's safe to say that there are plenty of "Schmetterling"s flying around our office (pun intended). 

Below is a snippet from one of the many conversations she and I had today.  Please disregard any and all speeling arrers/ grammatical errors.  Also, bear in mind that these are "fun" conversations, typed quickly, with a high level of frivolity.
Me [1:21 PM]:  discuss THIS. pow.

Ariane [1:21 PM]:  pow right in the kisser

Me [1:21 PM]:  (i punched you with my words)

Me [1:21 PM]:  haha

Ariane [1:21 PM]:  more like you stung me in my heart

Me [1:22 PM]:  and ever since i was a Fox 17 news celebrity this morning all i've been doing is laughing

Ariane [1:22 PM]:  can i have your autograph?

Me [1:24 PM]:  papillon is french for butterfly

Ariane [1:24 PM]:  i know

Ariane [1:24 PM]:  the dog has ears like a butterfly and that's why they called it that

Me [1:24 PM]:  un joli papillon (my beautiful butterfly)

Me [1:24 PM]:  ohhhh! nice

Me [1:25 PM]:  i was very lost for a second

Me [1:25 PM]:  i prefer mon petit schmetterling

Me [1:25 PM]:  i was ilke whose dog? what? who named their dog schmetterling?


Please note-- between 1:22 and 1:24 PM, you see a short pause.  During this "intermission," I took the liberty of signing my autograph for Ariane.  Attention: Deutsch-speakers, please move past the massacre of German grammar (should be "der Schmetterling") and just enjoy the work of art as is.  I think the incorrect definite article adds a wee bit of character, no?



Some background: On my way to work this morning, I stopped at Biggby Coffee on Stadium Dr., where the Fox 17 News van was parked.  Inside, they were conducting an interview, and of course I tried my best to get on camera (it was only appropriate).  That's where we get the term "Fox 17 News celebrity" that I reference in the conversation above.

All in all, any day in which I make a name for myself (Das Schmetterling) is a good day.  Gute Nacht, meine Freunde.  Bis morgen!

Day 11: Curse You, Sarah MacLachlan... I'm Emotionally Spent!

It's the holiday season, so of course we see an influx of those commercials.  You know the ones.  I'm talking specifically about the ASPCA commercials that show pictures of the forgotten, locked-up puppies, all the while playing some terribly depressing song that YANKS at your heartstrings with a minor key and brilliantly wistful lyrics.  Give me a sad, one-eyed puppy dog face, mix in some Sarah MacLachlan, and I'm done for.



Sometimes I think it's the vegan in me rearing its head.  Perhaps it's just the fact that I'm human-- whether omnivore or herbivore, chances are you've been moved by the ASPCA commercials at some point in your life.

I've always been a supporter of Humane Societies and animal rescue groups.  However, since I struck gold with my dear golden-haired Harper in June of 2009, I've become an even greater proponent of adopting an animal vs. buying purebred.  Don't get me wrong, I know some absolutely marvelous purebreds (my dear nephew-dog Cooper is most certainly the apple of my eye!).  But if you take the time to stroll through the cold gray aisles at your local animal shelter, there's a 125% chance that you'll feel the urge to take one of the animals home with you. 

And if I haven't made this point clear enough already, I will now.  Harper was truly a treasure-- an anomaly when it comes to rescued dogs.  Rescued animals often come with some baggage-- perhaps they don't trust humans, or maybe they've got some very real behavioral issues (and often, their "baggage" is for good reason; it's possible they've been abused/ mistreated in the past).  I was incredibly lucky to have found Harper-- she was housetrained, friendly, SMART, easily trainable, and trusting.  I'm not sure what her history was, but she was the perfect dog for me.

In the future, I'll definitely adopt another dog-- not now, I'm not ready.  But I urge any of you, if you're looking to make an animal addition to your home, to check with local animal rescue groups or animal shelters.  A couple excellent websites to check out are the ASPCA website and Petfinder (I actually found Harper via the Petfinder website, where she was listed under the "adoptable dogs" of Saginaw County Humane Society.) 

If you can't bring an animal into your house for some reason, consider other ways of helping animals in need:

• Volunteer at a local shelter by walking/ bathing/ feeding the animals.
• Donate unused toys to your local shelter to keep adoptable animals entertained!
• Donate newspapers to the shelter to be used for kennels.
• Volunteer your time to be a foster parent to an "in-between" animal-- it can be very rewarding :)
• Report any cases of known or suspected animal cruelty/ abuse.
• DONATE!  Cold hard cash is obviously one of the best ways to help your local shelter or rescue group.  Any and all donations, no matter how small or large, are useful.
• Spay/ neuter your animals!  This cannot be stressed enough.

These are just a few options.  You can contact your local shelter for more ways to help out. 

Please oh please-- SAVE the animals!  I personally can't bear to see one more ASPCA commercial.  Let's all do our part to get rid of the heartwrenching slideshows interspersed throughout our sitcoms.

Day 10: Musical Chairs

Day 10 already!  This 21-day challenge is just about halfway done.  And it hasn't really been that difficult, save this past weekend (I was out of town and didn't have the best internet access where I was staying... but I persevered).  My point: the daily post isn't so bad. 

Quick recap of today:  they're currently painting the walls of the Snack Bar located directly across the hall from my office (SB2).  If you recall, my coworkers and I choose to eat at SB3 (down the hall from my office).  There are generally many people who eat at SB3; fewer people eat at SB2-- but still a good number of people.  Since they're painting SB2, those who normally dine at SB2 are eating in SB3. 

Despite the fact that we're all adults and don't have "assigned seats," we're creatures of habit and choose to sit in the same seats, at the same tables, as often as possible.  Every so often, someone will be sitting at "your table" in SB3, and you'll have to sit somewhere else.  Maybe that screws up your day, maybe not.

TODAY... because of the painting in SB2 and the sudden influx of diners in SB3 (my home turf), there were nearly no tables available.  So at morning recess, we had to sit at the corner table-- which normally belongs to the group of carpenters.  So they had to sit somewhere else.  Same thing at lunch-- no tables available!  For both morning recess and lunch, it seemed like every group's seating arrangements were discombobulated.  All day long, we were all discussing how "off" we felt as a result of our screwed-up seating.  Funny how something like that can flip your world around.

Remember grade school, when your teachers gave you assigned seats and it was the worst thing imaginable?  Look at a professional place like my workplace-- we need to sit in the same seats every day.  Walk into any college classroom and I guarantee you that most of the students sit in the same seats every day.  How have we progressed so far?  Not only do we accept "assigned" seats, but we crave them! 

Hopefully tomorrow will go more smoothly-- and if not, at least I'll be mentally prepared :)

Day 9: Photographical Evidence

Despite the sinister title, this blog is actually going to be quite lovely. No, it's not blackmail or paparazzi shots. On the contrary, I'm posting pictures of my weekend: photographical evidence of a lovely German Christmas (and German is pronounced "Cherman," as spoken by a true Frankenmuther).

Though I say "Frankenmuth" because it's more widely recognized, I'm technically from Frankentrost, a small community just north of Frankenmuth.  Frankenhilf (now called Richville) is a community just east of Frankentrost. Confused yet?  There's one more-- Frankenlust. Why do all these names sound similar? Each community was founded in the mid-1800s by a Franconian pastor (Pastor Loehe) from Bavaria. Each name means "___ of the Franconians."  For example, Frankenmuth means "courage of the Franconians;" Frankentrost means "consolation of the Franconians;" Frankenhilf means "help of the Franconians;" and Frankenlust means "joy of the Franconians."  Heartwarming, yes.  And a wee bit interesting, too-- if you're into that sort of thing (and I am).

My dad still lives in Frankentrost, and my mom lives in Frankenmuth-- right in town. So this weekend, because I was staying with her, it was easy to drive around town and take pictures (like I mentioned in my last blog). Each photo is a pretty accurate depiction of Frankenmuth around Christmastime. You should know that driving through Frankenmuth looks a lot like how one might imagine old-world Germany to look like. Nearly every building (and I mean nearly every building) looks like it came straight out of Bavaria-- yes, even the Dollar General and McDonald's.  The horse-drawn carriages clip-clopping down Main St. add to the whimsical atmosphere of this tiny town.  And though I can't remember ever enjoying working in Frankenmuth, I thoroughly enjoyed visiting this weekend. 


This is one of the back roads through town.  You should see Main St.




The Silent Night Chapel, free and open to the public, is a replica of the Silent Night Memorial Chapel located in Oberndorf, Austria.  On the chapel grounds, you'll find plaques featuring the hymn "Silent Night" in over 300 languages.  Visitors are peacefully serenaded by the song "Silent Night" both inside and outside the chapel. 




The sign marking the entrance to Bronner's Christmas Wonderland, the world's largest Christmas store.  The building (spanning an area of 5.5 football fields) boasts an impressive shopping wonderland, which spans an area of 1.7 football fields.  And yes, I've gotten lost.  That's kind of a given.




The driveway leading to Bronner's: 1/2-mile Christmas Lane (the address is 25 Christmas Lane).  Spectacularly illuminated by about 100,000 outdoor Christmas lights, the area is an inviting landmark for visitors to Frankenmuth. 




Main St. in Frankenmuth (and yes, this photo was taken while I was standing directly in the middle of the road)




Main St.  Frankenmuth





Zehnder's Restaurant (famous for its family-style chicken dinners)




Bavarian Inn Restaurant, also famous for its family-style chicken dinners




Bavarian-style McDonald's




Bavarian-style Dollar General




Yes, even the Tim Horton's has a Bavarian design.




the Christmas display along the river through town





one of the very many Nativity scenes along Main St.



 

Day 8: Frohliche Weihnachten!

Frohliche Weihnachten ("Merry Christmas" in German) to all of you! If I had a nickel for every time I heard/saw that little German phrase today, I'd have enough to pay for a trip to the ACTUAL Germany (and not "Michigan's Little Bavaria"). But since I'm still ever-so-broke, Frankenmuth will have to tide me over for now. Funny how you don't realize what a cool town you come from until you've been gone a while (and I haven't even been gone that long yet).

If you've never had the chance to take a trip to Frankenmuth, you should. And if you can do it around the holiday season, you get bonus points. If there's one thing people associate Frankenmuth with when I tell them where I'm from, it's Christmas. Frankenmuth, MI, boasts the world's largest Christmas store (Bronner's Christmas Wonderland).

One of my favorite feelings EVER is the one I got this on Friday night when I drove into Frankenmuth. Upon entry into town, one sees this huge store, buzzing with activity and bursting with light from the millions of Christmas lights hanging in and around the store.

Tonight I drove around town and took photos of some of the coolest places around town, and all the best light displays. Frankenmuth, tourist town though it may be, is completely safe and peacefully quiet at night. Tonight, probably because it's Christmas and everyone in Frankenmuth was at home, gathered around their Tannenbaums (Christmas trees), the entire town was silent. There was so little traffic that I was able to park my car right on Main St. and stand directly in the middle of the road and snap away with my camera. Funny how different Frankenmuth is from cities like Kalamazoo. Granted, I love Kzoo. But today was filled with hearing my dad and Oma (grandma) banter in German as we drank beer after church (yes, we're German and that's how we roll), eating "stollen" (German bread made with rum-soaked nuts and fruits), and hearing "Frohliche Weihnachten" wished to dozens of people. And I doubt there are too many other places besides Frankenmuth where that could happen.

Right now, I'm sitting in my mom's living room and we're watching "Meet Me in St. Louis." And little Tootie, the youngest daughter in the movie, is elated to be living in St. Louis. "Wasn't I lucky to be born in my favorite city?" she asks at one point in the movie. Thank you, dear Tootie. I totally agree.

Day 7: Better Early Than Never

I hate breaking the rules. Scratch that-- I hate breaking tradition. Therefore, I really don't approve of celebrating a holiday early.

This year, like the last few years, my family celebrated Christmas early in order to accommodate my sisters' plans (and please understand that I'm not complaining about this). And somehow, this year it seemed that I minded a little less.

For the first year in quite some time, I felt complete harmony while celebrating Christmas. Last year, one integral member of my immediate family failed to show up-- while we were all waiting-- and I have yet to hear a reason for the absence. This year, on the other hand, we all were there. And we were all laughing. And smiling. And sharing. And helping one another. (Am I making you sick with all this ridiculous sweetness yet?)

Ridiculous though it seems, it warmed my heart. Maybe the day wasn't completely flawless (the same member who forgot to show up last year was 2.5 hours late this year). And after all, I don't know what was going on beneath the surface of all the happiness that was being exuded today. Maybe there was more conflict than I actually saw. But that's my point.

From where I was sitting, I saw a happy family. And this year, I feel like that's all I needed. I needed to spend Christmas with a happy family. A joking, sharing, laughing, happy family. My absolute joy this Christmas season didn't come from the tasty vegan food I stuffed myself with today, nor from the wonderful gifts I received from my family today. It came from every smile, every hug, every joke, every bout of laughter that I shared with my family today. There's nothing I could ask for that would have made me any happier than I was while I was just watching my family in action today. No, we're definitely not perfect. We've got our quirks (for example, Melanie had to be told numerous times to "get your Hulk hands off the rocking chair so Dad can sit down"). And no, we don't always get along. But today was the perfect example of how any family can move past whatever could be pulling them apart, and just enjoy a holiday together. It's true-- there's no place like home. And as long as I'm around to spend time with my family on this beautiful earth, I'm going to do my best to enjoy it. Merry Christmas (eve) to you and your family. I hope this holiday season brings you as much joy as it's brought me.

Day 6: Coming Home

I got out of work early today. Made the mistake of trying to pick up some last-minute gifts in Portage. Westnedge was ridiculous... clearly a bad choice. I went home, wrapped a few gifts, packed my bags, and left for Frankenmuth. I stopped by Biggby for a coffee before getting on the expressway. When Dan, the guy who was working there, asked me for my order, I told him a soy latte. Flavor? Surprise me. He gave me a neopolitan-- strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate. It was amazing. It kept me awake on the way back to Frankenmuth. I got to my mom's house, put on my prom dress (yes, from my senior year) because I love it, and we went for a drive with my sister Amanda to look at the Christmas lights around town. And if you've ever seen Frankenmuth at Christmastime, you'll know it's the coolest thing ever. Makes me happy that I get to come here for Christmas. We finished our holiday color tour. I'm currently lying on my mom's loveseat (and I'm still wearing my prom dress, but with slippers and a hoodie to complete the ensemble), and Amanda and my mom are on the couch. We're watching My Sister's Keeper, which could possibly be the greatest movie ever. This might be the best night of my life. I love my family and I'm happy to be home for Christmas. La vita e bella.

Day 5: When Irish Eyes Are Smiling

It's a known fact in my family that I hold a special place in my heart for Ireland and all things Irish (and yes, we're German... not Irish).  I've mentioned it before-- my mom gave me a desk calendar for my birthday, and on each page is the date, a photo of Ireland, and some words of inspiration (often an Irish blessing of some sort).  Yesterday's page:

December 21

May the blessing of light be on you--

Light without and light within.

May the blessed sunlight shine on you,

And warm your heart

Till it grows like a great peat fire.

If you've ever been to Ireland, perhaps you've had the olfactory pleasure of smelling burning peat.  It's a very distinct smell, and once you've smelled it for the first time, you will instantly recognize it the next time it's wafting through the air.  It's not a great smell, but it's not a bad smell either.  To me, it's just cozy.  The smell of peat takes me back to the Atlantic coast of Ireland (I stopped by Ireland for a visit in August 2009), where I was taking up lodging at a hostel called "Peter's Place--" affordable and cozy (because Peter, who was a prominent fixture in the hostel--constantly bustling about, fixing things and cleaning things-- burned peat to heat the hostel). 

Ireland is HANDS DOWN my favorite place in the world.  Never before have I traveled to another country and felt so at home.  Every Irish person I encountered lived right up to the typical Irish stereotype-- warm, friendly, good-humored, welcoming, and downright NICE.  Who wouldn't love to spend time in a country full of people like that?  When Irish eyes are smiling, you'll be smiling too :)

O my dear Emerald Isle, I love you and miss you terribly.  Please allow me to visit again.  Soon.  I could use some Irish hospitality, some top-notch Guinness, and a few more photo ops.

Day 4: Every Time a Bell Rings

Tonight's post is going to be short (and yes, I realize it's technically tomorrow)-- but I just got out of work after having worked ALL day long, and I'm whipped.  But I'm going to stay diligent and keep on posting. 

Tonight my sister sent me a text message, and it said this: "There was a bell ringing on TV and Cooper [the dog] perked up, then Gregg asked if he could hear Harper... (because she's in heaven getting her wings)"

I love messages like this that a) make me laugh, b) make me tear up a tiny bit, and c) make me love my family even more.  Leave it to Gregg to call my beloved canine an angel.  That's exactly what she is. 

Miss you, Harper.  Hope your wings are working out well!  If you're not too busy, fly on down here and keep me company :)  It gets mighty lonely without you.

Day 3: What's at the End of Your Tunnel?

I was watching Miracle on 34th Street the other day (seasonally appropriate, right?) with my sister.  If you've never seen the movie, you should-- especially now, while we're in the Christmas season.  There are two versions -- one from 1947, and one from 1994.  Either version is phenomenal, but the 1994 version will give you the pleasure of watching young Mara Wilson in action-- and let's face it... who doesn't love two hours of HER?

The movie is about the eternal debate on the existence of Santa Claus, as well as what he represents in our lives.  But as I was watching the movie, I was (quite easily) drawing parallels to my own faith.  Perhaps it's because I've been thinking lately about my personal meanings for hope & faith...  I've been especially struggling with trying to understand how someone can believe in the existence of "nothing"-- call it what you want (atheism, nihilism, idealism, delusional nonsense, pure genius, whatever). 

Someone asked me a few weeks ago why I believe what I believe (and for the record, I'm a Christian).  I hate to say it, but I wasn't prepared for a question like that, and therefore I wasn't sure how to answer.  I don't feel forced into my faith or coerced into it.  I don't feel like there was any ultimatum from my parents, siblings, or teachers that made me accept this faith.  What would you say if someone asked you "why?"

I simply said: I believe what I believe because it gives me hope. 

Look around you-- this world sucks.  Seems like every time I turn around, the world is spinning more quickly into chaos.  Someone you know is dying from some sort of incurable disease.  We're medicating ourselves beyond normalcy.  Humans are killing other humans to prove some point.  Shows like Jersey Shore are working their way to the top of the charts (and after watching an episode for the very first time the other day, I feel like humanity is done for... if Snooki is all we've got going for us, we might as well just throw in the towel right now).  I feel like there has to be something better than Jersey Shore at the end of the tunnel.

Hope and faith give me reasons to keep on going, all the way to the end of my tunnel.  It seems like there are fewer and fewer reasons to enjoy life in this chaotic, dirty, overpriced, overmedicated, doubtful, synthetic, paved, loud, angry and violent world. 

I'm not going to force anyone to share my beliefs-- if this point hasn't come across strongly enough yet, let it come across now: force should never be an option.  My intention, though, is to serve as an example to others.  And no, I don't think I have all the answers; in fact, I unfortunately have very few answers.  All I know is that I have hope and faith in something greater.  I accept the fact that there's a better life for me waiting at the end of my tunnel.  And I accept that on faith.  No, I don't know exactly how long my tunnel is, what lies ahead of me in the tunnel, or how I'm going to make it all the way to the end.  But I absolutely believe there's a light waiting for me once I make it through.  I hope that you've all got some light at the end of your tunnel as well.  There's no good argument against hope, and no one can (or should) fault you for living with hope.  If we've nothing but a dark, endless tunnel ahead of us, what are we living for?

"I'm a symbol. I'm a symbol of the human ability to be able to suppress the selfish and hateful tendencies that rule the major part of our lives. If... you can't believe, if you can't accept anything on faith, then you're doomed for a life dominated by doubt." -- Kris Kringle, Miracle on 34th Street

"We have nothing, if not belief." -- The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Day 2: Cookie Chronicles: Wired for Success

(Comment for those of you who read my previous blog, Day 1: 50 Things About Me:  I failed to mention that I happen to LOVE my name now; although people call me Lanie, I still love being called Melanie. "Melanie" is a more uncommon name than most, and that's what makes me love it so.  So no worries; the good name of Melanie lives on!)

It's 2:55 AM, so technically this is Day 2 (even though I'm still awake from Day 1, when my last blog was posted).  I'm usually not awake at 2:55, but tonight I worked at Shakespeare's Pub.  Therefore, my workday (night) began at 8:45 PM and didn't end till 2:40 AM.  Have I mentioned that I love it at Shakespeare's?  All the employees there are friendly and HELPFUL (a welcome change from JCPenney) and the environment is just fun.  Never have I enjoyed closing an establishment more than at Shakespeare's.  Kick all the drunks out and it's time for the sober employees to have a dance party while cleaning up.  By the way, if you've ever been to Shakespeare's, you know that they serve popcorn to every table.  Serve popcorn all day long, and serve it to a bunch of people drinking alcohol, and you're likely to find 30 tons of it on the floor at closing time.  HOW could they ever clean that up?  Easy.  If you've got a leaf blower :)  The bouncers use actual leaf blowers to blow the popcorn/ trash from the back of the pub all the way to the front, where they then scoop it up in shovels/ sweep it up with brooms and call it clean.  Pretty innovative! 

It's not always fun to go to work, even if you like your job.  Today I was okay with going in, but I had no idea what I was in for.

Some background:
a) If you haven't read my previous posts about the "Cookies" (cute guys) at work, please do: the links are HERE and HERE.  The rest of the blog may not make sense unless you educate yourself accordingly.
b) Yesterday, I worked up the nerve to walk directly up to the cookies and ask them to go out for drinks with Ariane, Sarah, and me after work.  Again, bear in mind that I've seen these guys nearly every day for the last 8 months and it's taken me about 7 months to say HELLO to them (no joke!) and 8 months to hold any sort of conversation with them.  Yeah... me.  No joke.  So Ariane, Sarah, and I went to meet them at Brewster's, just down the road from Pfizer.  We arrived to find that only two had been able to show up (it was, after all, pretty late notice, so I wasn't surprised).  The two that showed up were Charlie Brownie and an unnamed (for some reason) Cookie.  I was originally very worried that the get-together might be awkward (after all, we came from two very different groups of employees and had never spoken to each other before).  But Charlie Brownie and Tall Guy (as we'll call him) were very entertaining, very funny, and easy to talk to.  Success!  Somehow we got talking about a guy they work with-- whose description matched that of Green Hat (and if you know me well, you know that Green Hat is my favorite Cookie).  By the way-- I had actually spoken to Green Hat earlier in the week and introduced myself for the first time (a HUGE step for me), and learned his name as well.  They mentioned that Green Hat was not only single, but the absolute nicest guy (albeit incredibly shy) that we'd ever meet.  Turns out he wasn't able to meet us for drinks because he was babysitting his friends' daughters (on a Friday night... how sweet is that?)  I decided I liked him even more.

Fast forward to today-- I'm at Shakespeare's and I get a text from one of my coworkers-- who had done some impressive Facebook stalking and learned that Beardie Boy and the Mohican (see the "Cookie list" in this blog) are not only in relationships, but ENGAGED!!! (Note: their recent actions have suggested otherwise, so this was vitally important, breaking news) 

I was slightly peeved that our dear bearded boy and his not-so-Native-American friend (he told us he's actually Mexican) were suddenly off the "market," if you will.  And I was trying to enjoy my night despite this new information. 

Fast forward an hour or so-- I'm walking to one of my tables and who do I see standing at another table along the way?  MR. GREEN HAT HIMSELF.  Yeah, it seemed too good to be true.  It couldn't possibly be him, could it?  He looked at me and smiled (and I nearly melted, he's so cute) and I told him that I was happy to see him (he was there celebrating a friend's birthday).  I don't think he knew that I worked there (how could he know?) so he was probably more surprised to see me than I was to see him.  Long story short, we actually talked-- had multiple conversations-- and I sucked it up and gave him those 10 magical digits (my phone number) and told him to call me sometime.  He was very happy to talk with me after that (which seems promising, right?)  and even hugged me on his way out and said he'd see me Monday (yeah you will!  Bright and early!). 

Imagine my night.  If you work with me or understand my "Cookie" infatuation, you'll know that I was giddy with delight while working-- I'm sure I walked by him at least 200 times and smiled at him every time I walked by.  A wonderful way to end a nearly-as-wonderful day. 

You know how they say everything happens for a reason?  Tonight was a perfect example.  It never made sense to me that I got called for the job at Shakespeare's... and really, I didn't need the money anymore (not since I've been tutoring, anyway).  What made me decide to accept the job?  I don't know.  But I'm gee-golly-happy I did.  Fact.

Day 1: 50 Things About Me

Today is the first day of my 21-day blog challenge.  The last couple days have been pretty crazy/busy for me, so I decided to wait till today for my first post (to make it worthwile to my loyal readers, whoever you are).  What better way to begin this challenge than to write about myself? 

For those of you who know me well, this will likely just be a review for you.  For those of you who perhaps don't talk to me so often or don't know me at all, this will likely help you get to know me better.  Thank you-- all of you who read my blog-- I appreciate the interest, and I welcome any and all feedback (yes, both positive AND negative).  50 things.  Go.

1. When I was in kindergarten, I hated my first name. At my kindergarten graduation my teacher wanted me to tell the audience my name, and I refused to do so.  I wanted to legally change my name at the age of 5.  Since then, I've gotten over it. I guess you've got to pick your battles, huh?  Now people call me Lanie.
2. I don't trust people who look at the ground when they walk. If the rest of us have to face the world, so should they.
3. I absolutely ♥ Michael Flatley's Lord of the Dance.  I watch it/ listen to it almost daily.
4. Green is my favorite color.
5. Every day I sport two different earrings at the same time.  Quirky?  Yes.
6. My most-listened-to Pandora station is one that plays film scores.  My very favorite songs (of all songs, not just in this particular genre) are the themes from Star Trek, Indiana Jones, Band of Brothers, Lord of the Rings, Transformers, Edward Scissorhands, Avatar, and Cider House Rules. 
7. I love Taco Bell mild sauce.  I'll drink it straight from its packet.
8. I use hand sanitizer more than is necessary.  On last count, I own 27 different bottles of hand sanitizer (all from Bath & Body Works).
9. I love hot dogs.  I'm vegan, though, so I don't eat them.  But a hot dog is the one meat product that I crave.
10. I don't necessarily care for shopping, but it's like an involuntary motion.  My body MAKES me shop.  I swear.
11. I moved to Kalamazoo in April and I love it.
12. I hate being watched.
13. If I could stay in school forever, I would.
14. I don't think it's enough to simply have time for someone you care about; it means more if you make time for that person.
15. I recently purchased a Honda Civic, and I call it the "Starship Honda."
16. I love to bake.  I love to paint.  I love to photograph anything.
17. I don't tend to hold grudges, and I don't believe in revenge.  But I do believe in karma, both good and bad.  And believe me, I've seen both.
18. I recently had a lab mix named Harper, whom I lost in July.  She was my entire world :)  And I think of her fondly-- every day. 
19. Before Harper, I had a small terrier named Joey.  His papers said he was "unsexed" due to the fact that he was neutered.  So I used to call him my little princess.
20. I live in an apartment with three roommates-- two of them, I chose to live with.  The third one... well... I did not choose her.  But that's another blog, another time. 
21. I love being independent.  Independent people are my favorite people.
22. If you ask my best friends to give one fact about me, it would likely be this: I'm boy crazy.
23. There are a few key traits I look for in a guy: compassion, faith, independence, intelligence, originality, and passion (about anything).
24. Did I mention I love people who go against the grain?
25. I begin celebrating Christmas in October. 
26. I think everyone should know how to do their own laundry by age 15.
27. When I was 7, my dream was to own my own dude ranch.  I called it the Applebee 7 Guest Ranch, and I had drawn out building plans.  It'll probably never happen.
28. I hate heartbreak. Unfortunately, I think it's almost vital to living a young woman's life.
29. I have stories, stories, and more stories.  I've been told a million times that I should write a book.  I started it four years ago.  I'm on my fourth page.
30. By the way, I live for procrastination.
31. I hate liars.
32. I often have a lot to say.  I talk until someone stops me.
33. I'm not sure if there's anything better than a blank, leather-bound book.
34. But George Winston on a rainy day is pretty good too.
35. I cry at every episode of Desperate Housewives.  As well as every Cymbalta commercial.
36. I learn the most by trying new things.
37. I can never make up my mind.
38. I love to dress up, but I also love to lounge around in pajamas.
39. I hate wearing socks.  And it's impossible for me to sleep while wearing them.
40. I love my sisters, and I admire both of them.
41. My worst trait: jealousy.
42. My biggest fear: failure.
43. My 2nd biggest fear: clowns.
44. My 3rd biggest fear: humans dressed as animals (including, but not limited to, mascots).  I'm pretty sure that stems from watching the real-life version of Alice in Wonderland as a child...and being scared to death of it.  Side note: a human dressed as a rabbit will send me into panic mode.
45. My biggest pet peeve: speeling arrers.
46. I work a lot.  I have three jobs: I work for Pfizer, for Shakespeare's, and as a tutor.
47. I love Tuesdays-- always have-- and I don't know why.
48. I miss being a kid.  If I could go back to the summers when I was 7 or 8, I would stay there. Permanently.
49. I enjoy making new friends, but I love my old friends and always will. 
50. My family is the most important thing to me.

Make or Break (a habit, that is)

My Facebook news feed has been blowing up lately with updates from friends who are participating in the 30-day photo challenge-- not that I'm knocking their persistence.  I think it's a pretty cool idea.  It seems like every time I turn around, I see another 30-day ____ challenge (fill in the blank with whatever-- yoga, gym, blogging, etc.) 

Why 30 days?  Try Googling "30 day challenge" and you're likely to stumble across some "30 day challenge" sites.  You'll also see articles like "30 days to form a habit."  There's a few different schools of thought on how long it takes to make something a habit-- ranging from 21 days to 30 to 66, even 90 days.  According to psychologist Dr. Maxwell Maltz, it takes about 15 minutes per day, for 21 days, to form a habit. 

I'm not sure if it's because I want to be different or because I'm kind of a slacker-- perhaps both reasons-- but I'm going to try a 21-day blog challenge.  I love writing, and it doesn't take me too long to crank out a blog.  21 days of writing?  Bring it on. 

A Worthy Cause

This evening, in light of the holiday season, a few people from work and I went to help serve dinner at a local soup kitchen.  We'd gathered up donations from our coworkers-- things like nonperishable food items, health & beauty items, blankets, clothing, children's toys, etc.-- to give to the Kalamazoo Gospel Mission, a local nonprofit organization that runs a homeless shelter, soup kitchen, rehabilitation center, and thrift store, among many other things.  Our group from Pfizer was scheduled to work there tonight, but we ended up not having enough volunteers.  When we arrived, however, we saw that another group had also been scheduled (accidentally) to work the same night, and they were lacking volunteers as well.  Once combined, our groups had the perfect number of workers to operate smoothly.  Funny how that works, isn't it?

I met so many interesting people-- volunteers from the other group, as well as permanent workers at the Mission.  Tyra, the food service manager, had come to the Mission a number of years ago, seeking help (he was a gang member in desperate need of food, shelter, and rehab for an addiction).  His life was successfully turned around due to the help he received at the Mission, and he now manages the entire food service area.  With his contagious energy, extraordinary zest for life, and endless stories, Tyra is the most entertaining person to work next to. 

If you know me at all, you know that I've participated in volunteer mission trips with my church from the time I was 14 years old.  For almost 10 years, I've been traveling to places like the Caribbean, Central America, and eastern Europe, working to help different groups of people who are all much less fortunate than me.  I'm the first to agree that it's most definitely an eye opener when you're working in a Third World country.  And I've seen some really disturbing things in disturbingly impoverished areas.  But unfortunately, you expect to see stuff like that in places like rural Nicaragua and post-Soviet states.  You don't expect to see it down the street from your apartment.

Today was the first time I experienced it in my own city. 

There were three dinner "shifts" that came through the Mission today.  The first was women/children and men who reside there.  The second shift was comprised of those enrolled in one of the Mission's rehab programs (they're there because of an addiction: gambling, alcohol, sex, drugs, etc.).  The third--and largest--group that came through was the actual homeless people.  People who live on the streets of Kalamazoo. 

I knew I would be serving food to homeless people, but I wasn't sure what to expect.  I'm ashamed to say that I was expecting to see cracked-out heroin addicts who reeked of cigarettes, or rude drunks who would ask me for my spare change.  Nothing--not even my 9 years of mission work--would have prepared me for what I experienced tonight.  I stood up at the salad bar and served tossed salad to those who had come to eat.  I made conversation with the most polite, friendly, respectful (and above all GRATEFUL) group of people I've ever encountered.  I smiled graciously as I accepted compliments from people who literally owned nothing but the clothes they were wearing.  I had fun.  And I wanted to cry. 

Throughout the entire meal, people were smiling as they walked by, carrying their winter coats, and all I could think was "It was 13 degrees when I woke up today.  I had to warm my car up for 15 minutes this morning, and I still froze for the first half of my drive to work."  I don't know for sure where these people woke up today, but my guess is that it wasn't in a bed with a heated blanket, in a 4-bedroom, 4-bathroom apartment.  I kept wondering--Where are their families?  Why am I so blessed to have an immediate family-- four different households-- that would gladly take me in if I had nowhere else to go?  It was difficult to stomach, seeing young mothers and young children who were forced to take up residence at the homeless shelter to get out of the freezing weather. 

I felt horrible for the stupid Christmas gifts I'd asked for (a 3-tiered cupcake stand?  really?).  I felt selfish, "American," gluttonous, spoiled.  I felt brokenhearted.  Sometimes I feel like my heart is just too big and I'm just too small to change the things that bother me most. 

So I propose that you help me.  It's just a suggestion, of course.  I can't force you to do anything.  This Christmas (and I know it's approaching quickly), consider this: take a few dollars you would normally spend on Christmas gifts, and instead buy things that your local homeless shelter can use.  I'm not saying that you should totally opt out from buying presents for your dear ones; I'm merely suggesting that you talk to the important people in your life and plan to do something together to help out an organization that offers assistance to the homeless in your area.  Believe me, I understand that not everyone is able to make a monetary donation or even an item donation.  So donate your time--it costs nothing.  Contact the volunteer coordinator at a local rescue mission and set up a time for you to spend a few hours helping out.  Every little bit adds up. 

So gather up some food or deodorant or toothbrushes or time, and put it to good use this holiday season.  Here's a list of the most needed items at the Kalamazoo Gospel Mission.  Even if you're not around the Kalamazoo area, it'll give you an excellent idea of what you can donate.  And if you're having trouble finding a local organization (and I doubt that it would be difficult to find, especially at this time of year), let me know and I'll do the research for you.  Christmas is a time of peace, joy, hope and love.  Everyone should be entitled to enjoy those four little pleasures, shouldn't they?  Let's make it a merry Christmas for everyone.

Third Time's the Charm

If you've read my previous post about my lackage of fundage, you'll know that I was pursuing some additional employment. I mentioned that I'm tutoring and working at a local department store.  Tutoring is going well, but the department store is no more.  It just wasn't working out for me, so I stepped down from my position.  THANK GOODNESS.  Now I'm employed as a server at a local pub, and couldn't be happier.  A few months ago, my sister Amanda and her husband Matt came to visit Liz and me in Kalamazoo.  Matt wanted to go to Shakespeare's, a local pub (and one of my favorites), which was owned by his uncle.  While there, I decided to fill out an employment application.  I didn't hear back, and honestly I had forgotten about it.  Not long ago, though, I received a call from the manager, and we scheduled an interview for a server position.  I interviewed the next day and was hired on the spot.  It's a fun job, complete with wonderful management ("comfortably professional," I like to call it) and friendly/ helpful coworkers.  A welcome change from other places where I've recently worked/ considered working. 

My first "secondary" job prospect:

Hairless rat

I applied for a job listed on Kalamazoo Craigslist (I know, first clue, right?  But hear me out).  The job listed was for a sales associate at a local pet store, and it actually sounded completely legitimate (I've seen some very sketchy job postings out there).  "Must be comfortable handling all types of animals" was in the job description.  I thought "Okay... dogs, cats, rabbits, the occasional bird... I can handle that."  An interview was scheduled, and I was instructed to show up at Extreme Petz in Portage (second clue).  Though I'd never been to the actual store, I knew the general location-- in a nice area, very close to my sister's house.  I arrived, prepared for the typical interview questions.  However, the manager introduced me to John, who would introduce me to all the reptiles shown at this store.  We started at a tank containing a ball python.  For you reptile aficionados, you may be thinking "It's just a ball python..."  Keep in mind, however, that I'd never touched a reptile before in my life.  All I heard was "python," and I thought "There's no way you're getting me to touch that thing."  I told him we were going to have to start with something smaller, so he took me to a small boa constrictor.  I proceeded to hold my very first snake, facing my fears, and I felt like I might just pass out.  We moved on to a few more reptiles, and then I held the python, still feeling terrified.  The manger asked me how I felt about rodents.  I considered running to my car and driving away.  I said "I do NOT do rodents."  She pulled a hairless rat from behind her back (can you say shocking and CRUEL??)  and offered it to me.  I backed away, and very quickly the distance between us increased from 2 feet to 10 feet.  This rat looked like something out of a biological horror movie.  I don't do REGULAR rats... what makes this lady think I can do bald ones?  She asked me what scares me most about the rat-- is it the fact that it has no hair?  The teeth?  The tail?  The claws?  The beady eyes?  "CHECK, CHECK, CHECK, CHECK, CHECK.  All of the above, lady.  That thing you're holding is possibly the scariest thing I've ever seen in my entire life."  She assured me that this rat was harmless, and a popular pet for people with small children.  WHO BUYS VERMIN FOR THEIR CHILDREN TO PLAY WITH???  Visibly disturbed, I said "I could never hold that thing."  She said she understood that I don't do well with live rats, but then asked how I might do with frozen dead mice?  I felt like I want to cry (possibly the vegan in me rearing its anti-animal-cruelty head) and told her that not only could I never touch a live rodent, but there's absolutely no way that I could transport one to its death in the freezer.  Nor could I take a frozen mouse and feed it to a snake.  She told me that she'd love to hire me but it might not work if I can't handle the rodents (you think??).  I thanked her for her time, left the store as quickly as possible, drove home (shaking and crying on the phone to my mom the whole way), vented to my roommate Garrit, took 3 shots of vodka, and showered thrice.  Chalk up another Fear Factor day for Lanie.

My second "secondary" job prospect:

I was hired on the spot as a seasonal associate in the fine jewelry department of a local department store.  Cookie-cutter corporate training went well, and I spent a day learning about gemstones and precious metals from the regional manager of the fine jewelry division.  This is a commission job, and as I was only seasonal, I was instructed to work in the watch/ "cheap" fine jewelry sections, so the regular full-time associates could sell their diamonds and gemstones.  My first (and only) two days on the floor at this job were terrible.  No one would train me in practical things, like where to find the tools to change watch batteries or how to add/ remove links from a watch.  On my second day, I was given keys to the jewelry cases and worked on the floor for an hour before I was instructed to go to the back and watch training videos on customer service (because that'll help me on Black Friday??) for three hours.  I completed the video training and realized my shift was almost over so I headed back to the jewelry counter to turn in my keys.  Upon handing over my keys, I was bombarded with questions. "Where did you get these keys?"  "Who gave these to you?"  "What was her name?"  I said that the manager had issued me the keys, but I wasn't sure of her name.  "Was her name Melanie?" they asked.  Confused, I said no, and turned in the keys.  They informed me that some girl named Melanie had signed those keys out, and no one could find Melanie.  They had even gotten every store manager involved, and they were scouring the premises for this Melanie girl who had "stolen" the keys.  They had been calling Melanie and couldn't get a hold of her, and no one knew where Melanie had gone.  It's true-- they didn't know my name, and had forgotten that one of their employees (the notorious "Melanie") was in the back watching training videos.  A quick flash of my nametag (MELANIE) and a roll of my eyes later, I handed off the keys, left the store (having received no apology), and checked my voicemail (to find the 3 angry messages from my coworkers about how I needed to return the keys).  A couple days later, I called to quit.  And after being on hold for 23 minutes and hung up on twice, Melanie was successful.  Mission accomplished.  Thanks for the opportunity, but no thanks.

My third "secondary" job prospect:
I'm working at the pub and loving it so far.  Third time's the charm.  Fact.

That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles: Part Deux

As promised in Part One, I am providing you with the basics of a well-thought-out nomenclature system for the Cookies in my world.  My young coworkers and I have taken the liberty of classifying each Cookie according to his physical characteristics.  Disclaimer #2: Any and all accusations of our being shallow/ superficial/ discriminatory will not be well-received, as the cookie-based terminology is used purely for entertainment purposes only. 


Cookie (formerly "Warm Cookie"): any young man who is strikingly handsome (and seemingly friendly... I can not stress it enough: an unpleasant demeanor does not a desirable Cookie make).

Fig Newtie (formerly "Fig Newton"): any young man who is slightly attractive and seemingly friendly. For example: a Nabisco Fig Newton is a cookie that I personally wouldn't turn down (because unfortunately, I've never met a cookie I didn't like), but I would probably never choose when there are other cookies available.

Pecan Sandy: a handsome older man. Pecan sandies are tasty cookies, yes, but generally more popular with the older generations.

The Bakery: the specific work location of a group of Cookies; any place where a group of Cookies gathers on a regular basis.

The following is a list of the specific Cookies we encounter on a daily (and semi-daily) basis. (Note: cookie-related nomenclature is given when applicable; however, many names are chosen simply because the appearance is not directly equatable to any baked good)

Green Hat (formerly known as Gray Hat): wears a green hat every day; once wore a hat of gray, now wears a green hat.  Creative.  I know. 

Beardie Boy (formerly known as Bearded Cookie): young man with a beard; very shy. 

The Mohican (formerly known as The Last of the Mohicans): strikingly handsome with dark hair and dark skin with very angular features-- similar in appearance to someone of Native American ancestry... which brings me to Disclaimer #3: This terminology is under no circumstances to be construed as racially discriminatory.

Fun Size Cookie: somewhat petite and very handsome.

Tattoos: slender, attractive, with tattoos along his arms (specifically the triceps).  [Note: missing since approx. 08/01/10]

Tattoos #2: tattoos along his arms and up the back of his neck; occasionally wears glasses with black plastic frames. 

Hot Tall Guy: dark skin and hair, slightly older; possibly of managerial ranking.

Hot Tall Guy #2: similar in appearance to Hot Tall Guy, with lighter skin; managerial status unknown.

Charlie Brownie:  shorter in stature, with a round face similar to that of popular cartoon character Charlie Brown; constant smile.

Dream Boy: "Pecan Sandy" status (see above); shorter in stature.  [Note: missing since approx. 11/08/10]

Prepackaged Cookie: very square in stature, reminiscent of the squares of cookie dough found in a Nestle Tollhouse prepackaged cookie dough bar.

Baker's Dozen: an unexpected new cookie.

Rocky Road: dark hair and slightly darker skin; similar in appearance to a young Sylvester Stallone.

Enable Your Cookies: noticeably enjoys sending/ receiving text messages (hence the technological name); similar in appearance to Robert Pattinson.  [Note: missing since approx. 12/02/10]

Galleta: a handsome young man of Hispanic heritage (galleta: Spanish for "cookie").

Thin Mint (AKA "Hi-hello-howareyou"): tall and slender; friendly, enjoys using several greetings at once; appears to be approx. 14 years younger than he actually is.

The Situation: dark hair (heavily gelled), wears a gold chain, walks with an unmistakable stride, similar in appearance and demeanor to Mike "The Situation" Sorrentino of Jersey Shore.  [Note: I am not a Jersey Shore fan.]

Ice Cream Cookie: employed at a local frozen custard shop.

Biscotti: employed at a local coffee shop.

Christmas Cookie: employed at a local Christmas tree farm.

That's the Way the Cookie Crumbles: Part One

"Open the door, my princess dear, Open the door to thy true love here!"  -- The Frog Prince, Brothers Grimm

My mom is always telling me "there's plenty of fish in the sea" and "sometimes we have to kiss a couple frogs before we find our prince."  That's pretty, Mom, but how many frogs will I have to meet? 

I was telling my dear friend Samiie about some of my recent "frogs," and some potential princes (whom I wouldn't classify as any sort of amphibian).  She was eager to hear me recount my adventures (and misadventures) in finding my prince, and together we decided that I should share my stories. 

Ah, but where to begin?  And how to begin?

I suppose I'll begin by painting a picture of my place of employment.  Bear in mind that it seems most people who work in my building are at least 35 years of age.  Young Lanie, at 23 years of age, has developed quite an eye for scoping out anyone who appears to be younger than 35 years of age. Disclaimer #1: 35 is not old. It's just that 35 > 23. You do the math. Naturally, I take note when I see someone (particularly a male) who appears to be close to my age.

Enter the young male contractors (the ones I referred to in an earlier post as "electrician contractors"). Upon actually talking to them (after 6-7 months of being too shy to approach them), I found out that they're actually both electrician AND carpentry contractors who work in my building.

My building boasts a few different dining options.  There is the main cafeteria (a very large cafeteria with many tables and plenty of options), as well as numerous "snack bars--" smaller cafeteria-like rooms-- scattered throughout the building.  I frequent Snack Bar 3 ("SB3")-- which offers some of the same options as the main cafeteria, but nowhere near as many.  One thing SB3 does offer that the cafeteria doesn't offer is the option of warm cookies.  That's right-- possibly the greatest thing ever known to mankind: the freshly-baked cookie.  Could there be anything sweeter (no pun intended) than a cookie straight out of the oven?  SB3 also happens to be the very same spot where our dear carpentry contractors choose to dine.  Given the combination of the freshly-baked cookies and the super-cute contractors, wouldn't you also choose SB3? 

Our coworkers wondered why we were suddenly choosing SB3 over the main cafeteria (the food there is definitely not as tasty as the food upstairs).  We told them we were going there for the warm cookies--not a total fabrication--but we were also going there to see the cute boys.  Eventually, we just began skipping past all the nonsense and just referring to the cute boys as "warm cookies."  I'm proud to say that we've turned the term "cookie" into something of a household name-- and not only at work.  My roommates, friends and family all know what I'm talking about when I refer to a Cookie.  (By the way-- to avoid any confusion, I'll capitalize the C in "cookie" when referring to cookie-boys in my blog.)

Cookies (of any kind) do make life a little sweeter, don't they?  I don't enjoy writing lengthy blogs, so I'll end this here and continue with the "Cookie terminology" in Part Deux.  Stay tuned, and be on the lookout for a Warm Cookie near you!  (Lucky you if you've got your own Cookie...)

Argyle Wednesdays!



As if it weren't obvious...
this is NOT a photo of Sarah, Ariane, and me.

 Argyle Wednesdays are a recent development (and one that's gaining quite a bit of interest, might I add) at my job.  It all started the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, when Sarah and I both wore argyle sweaters on the same day (by accident, I promise).  We were so tickled by the wardrobe phenomenon that we decided to make it a weekly event.  The next Wednesday, Sarah, Ariane, and I decided to all wear argyle sweaters (Ariane wasn't at work for the first celebration of argyle, and we wanted to include her in our happy matchy-matchy day). 

Unfortunately, that next Wednesday we got to work and not only were we all wearing argyle, but we were all sporting blue argyle sweaters with teal and green accents.  And gray pants to complete the ensemble.  Of course we looked rad-- that's the point!  Well... I thought we looked pretty rad.  Sarah and Ariane were horrified by the fact that we looked like three high school clique-ster girls walking down the hallway at work, so they each donned a jacket over their sweaters.  I'm happy to say that I wore my colors proudly-- flew my freak flag high that day. 

Argyle Wednesday sounds like it should be part of a high school spirit week, you say?  Perhaps.  But it's fun.  And it gives me something to look forward to on Wednesdays.  I don't care if it makes me look like I'm part of a group of 15-year-old girlfriends.  My job rocks.  And we have our own little argyle club on Wednesdays (to boost morale, I say).

My sister says that Pfizer changed when I arrived (apparently no one had theme days before...).  I brought the "high school" to Pfizer.  And you know what?  I'm proud of it.  Rah Rah Rah.

The Great Entertainer

"Not a shred of evidence exists  in favor of the idea that life is serious."  -- Brendan Gill


I have new bangs, and I'm none too pleased about them.  But hair grows.  And I've never been one to worry about the outcome of my hair (ask anyone who knew me in high school... yeah, I had a different hair color every week: pink, platinum blonde, black, whatever).  Thankfully, though, my current bangs look okay-- and people at work have been complimenting me on them.  Most often, I'll smile and say "thank you," but with my close friends I'll laugh and say "Thanks... but there's a story there."  (and there is a story...)

My coworker and good friend Estela mentioned them to me yesterday.  Because she's a close friend, I laughed and said "yeah, and it's a funny story."  Estela laughed as I told her, and she proceeded to tell me that I have a funny story for everything in life. 

It's true, though.  I do.  I love telling my stories (not obvious, is it?), and for some reason it seems that everything I do in life has a funny side-story to it.  And I wonder... do I make my life interesting, or am I just blessed enough to have a life that's funny enough for me to entertain others with?  I'm not offended-- I'll be the first to admit that some very strange things happen to me, and most of them (even if scary/ creepy/ whatever at first) are pretty funny when I recount them to others.  I love new and interesting experiences, and I love to entertain people.  Seems like my life is perfect, then, huh?   :)  

So do I just seek out the comedy in my daily routine?  Have I created my comical life, or did I just happen upon it?  Hmm...