I just agreed to do a show in Mill Valley on Tuesday, Oct 7.
142 Throckmorton Ave. Mill Valley CA 94941
Part of the great Mill Valley Film Festival.
Tuesday Night Comedy Mark Pitta & Friends The Best in Comedy! Every Tuesday 8:00pm $20.00 Advance Admission, Doors 7:00pm $15.00 General Admission, Doors 7:30pm $20.00 All tickets purchased day of show, Doors 7:30pm Buy tickets at TicketWeb or by calling 415.383.9600
And this is why I’ll always be a chubby bitch. LOL
Category: Life
Geezus...
This IS a gripe...it almost doesn't seem like it should be a gripe, but it is.
I try to watch my weight. I try!
I'm a huge food addict. I only realized in the last year that, while I've sat and wondered why my siblings are all druggies and alcoholics, how I escaped a life of that.
Well I didn't.
I'm addicted MASSIVELY ADDICTED to food.
And fucking strangers, but that's neither here nor there.
Ok not really.
Ok not really not really.
Hi.
ANYWAY
(Sorry for typing like a bard)
Food is my meth. I have issues with it. Unhealthy fucked up issues, and now that I really really know that, fine. FINE.
So I try to either avoid places that I know I'll overeat (like home...stay away from home for fuckssakes!) or I go in WITH A PLAN.
A PLAN, BY GOLLY!
But I swear to christ, it's like there are little nazi devils at every turn trying to fuck with me even when I TRY HARD TO BE GOOD.
I TRY SO HARD TO BE GOOD.
For instance!
I go to Jamba Juice and order my meth smoothie (i.e. the Peanut Butter Moo'd that is approximately 43.9 billion calories per drink).
I KNOW it's bad (fuck you, Gwen, for turning me onto those. lol), I know it is.
I'm allowed a bad thing once in a while. Dammit. A small bad thing.
Like EVERY OTHER FOOD ITEM IN THE WORLD, I will eat to the point where I'm sick - unless I breathe in / breathe out and order a specific size and ONLY that.
So I go into a Jamba Juice, AND I SWEAR TO GOD, 3 OUT OF THE LAST 5 TIMES, I'VE ORDERED A SMALL - AND THEY'VE GIVEN ME THE 'POWER SIZE'.
THE FUCKING POWER SIZE.
"Um, I ordered a small..." "Yup, I ordered a small and only paid for a small"
"Oh...woops? Ok, well no worries!"
FUCK!
Of course the REASONABLE PERSON would say for them to put it into a small cup and pitch the rest.
BUT IF AN ADDICT GOES TO BUY A BUMP OF COKE AND THEY GIVE HER A GLAD BAG FULL OF IT AND SAY, HEY, NO WORRIES, DOES SHE SAY, NO GET RID OF THE FUCKING COKE?
NO SHE DOES NOT.
BECAUSE WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!
(Yes, I'm losing it, fuck off)
So I can't go to Jamba Juice anymore. Unless I don't have money and someone else is with me and orders for me.
Yes that's pathetic.
Suck it.
MOST RECENT EXAMPLE OF FAIL:
I order lunch from this nice little deli in the biz park where I work. They have homemade bread, fresh baked lunch meats, organic stuff, fresh baked cookies - which I will order ONE of once a week.
I glance at the sammich menu, and I eyeball this sandwich I have never seen before on there, and it has on it: Alfalfa Sprouts, Herb, Mayonnaise, Stone Ground Mustard, Roasted Turkey Breast, Swiss, Green Leaf Lettuce, Tomato, Red Onion, Cucumber, Dill Pickle, Avocado, Italian Vinaigrette, Ranch Dressing, Black Pepper. and and and...just huge. It's called "The Chairman".
Geezus, Mayo, Ranch AND vinaigrette...and avocado.
Nah, that sounds a little much, I think I'm going to make dinner tonight and would rather hold back a bit on lunch.
So I order a Vegetarian Sandwich, which is on some italian foccacia bread and it has mozzerella, marinated tomatoes, organic spinach, stone ground mustard, and pesto.
Simple enough. Sounds tasty.
And one cookie. Yay, it's cookie day.
I order one vegetarian sammich, one cookie, and one Fuze Cranberry Rasberry drink, and I go sit down, watch the hippies bake bread, and wait.
They call my name, and I glance in my bag - no cookie.
Dang, yup, I paid for my cookie, "Hey...yeah, I didn't get my cookie."
"Oh sorry!" the bad man says, "Here, let me give you two - shhh don't tell they're right out of the oven and all warm still."
GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
"But..but...ok thank you."
/small hyperventilate
Fuck.
Ok fine.
I'll save one for later! (/dies laughing)
So I walk across the parking lots, cross the street, go up to my desk, and I open the bag and pull out my sandwich.
Damn that's a heavy sandwich for a vegetar....
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?
This is not my sandwich....
I open it up....
IT'S THE MOTHERFUCKIN CHAIRMAN! WHAT IN BLUE HELL??
I check my receipt to see if I went into some kind of sandwhichgasm trance and actually ORDERED the fuckin thing, but no! My receipt says VEGETARIAN SANDWICH.
Motherfucker!
So I eat the fuckin thing. Because hi, IT'S IN FRONT OF ME AND I'M LIKE A RETARDED GOLDFISH THAT WILL KEEP EATING THE FISH FOOD FLAKES TIL I EXPLODE IN MY BOWL, AND FURTHERMORE, I DON'T HAVE TIME TO WALK ACROSS THE PARKING LOT TO HAVE THEM MAKE THE RIGHT SAMMICH...and it's damn tasty.
And I just ate both cookies. Suck it.
You know, a normal person can manage a healthy diet and still leave the house. They can go somewhere and order one thing AND GET ONE THING.
Most people get fucked over and don't even GET all the items they paid for.
But not me, ohhh no. I GET EVERYONE IN THE WORLD'S FOOD TIMES TWO. WITH EXTRA MAYO.
AND COOKIES.
It's really fucking nice to know my fat ass has such powerful thoughts.
Why can't it wish for a winning lottery ticket? Fuckin A!
- How come you weren't in school yesterday? - Because I'm Jewish. - So? - It was Rosh Hashanah. - What's that? - New Year's. - But it's only September 30. - Well, that's when it came out this year. - This year? - Yeah, it's different every year. - Why? - I'm not sure. - Geez... - But this year it was a lot later than it was last year. - Really? - Yeah, last year the second day of Rosh Hashanah fell on... - Whoa, whoa, whoa -- the second day? Your New Year's is two days? - Yes. - Why? - I'm not sure. - Geez... - But the other night when the holiday started... - At midnight... - At 7:38. - 7:38? - Yes. Jewish holidays begin when the sun goes down. - Why? - I'm not sure. .. - Geez... - But as soon as the sun set, our New Year immediately kicked in. - So it's already 2009 for you? - No. - But you just said... - It's 5769. - 5769? - Yeah. - Where'd that number come from? - The way I understand it, we were here for close to 4,000 years before you guys came along. - Really? - Yep -- and that's when you started counting. - And you didn't start over from zero? - No reason to. We were on a roll so we just kept going. - Makes sense. - Thank you. - So what do you do on December 31st? - Celebrate New Year's Eve. - But you just had two New Year's Eves... - That's the beauty of Judaism. You get three New Year's Eves, eight days of Hannukah, plus a Christmas vacation even though it's not our holiday. - Hardly seems fair to the rest of us. - Hey, that's why we're called the Chosen People. - I'll say.
Don’t bother reading if you vote Republican... lol
I cannot take credit for this, it was actually in an email from a friend of mine's MOM.
I like his mom. She's smart.
Great idea for those of us sickened by Sarah Palin!
Since Sarah Palin gave her speech accepting the Republican nomination for the vice presidency, Barack Obama's campaign has raised over $10 million dollars. Some of you may already be supporting the Obama campaign financially; others of you may still be a little honked off over the primaries. None of you, however, can be happy with Palin's selection, especially on her positions on women's issues.
So, if you feel you can't support the Obama campaign financially, may I suggest the following fiendishly brilliant alternative?
Make a donation to Planned Parenthood. In Sarah Palin's name. And here's the good part: when you make a donation to PP in her name, they'll send her a card telling her that the donation has been made in her honor.
(Ok, well this WAS the website: http://www.cnn.com/video//video/us/2008/09/13/feldman.wa.baby.high.heels.king
....it was a video on CNN about these dumb broads who thought it would be cute to make stiletto heels for babies...)
What the fuck. Stilettos for babies??
I feel very fortunate.
My daughter, who is now nearly 21, seems to have just missed the window where little girl clothes seem to all smack of 'baby whore'.
Jackie lived in little mermaid matching tops and bottoms, pink corduroy pants with cute little Tshirts, little jersey knit dresses with her pink reeboks...CUTE LITTLE GIRL CLOTHES.
Now, you can't go out of the house without seeing kids dressed up like little whores.
At the apartment complex I lived at before I moved to Cali, there was a little girl who couldn't have been more than 9 years old running around in knee high boots and mini skirts. Great for a slutty little high school or college girl, but a 3rd grader? COME ON.
I'm sorry, but if you're dressing your grade schooler in naughty school girl skirts that barely cover their ass, fuck me boots (sorry, but that's just what they are) and Tshirts that say "Hottie" or "Temptress", you may as well just slap a big sign on her forehead that says "Pedo-bait" or scream from the rooftops, "HEY, PLEASE STICK THINGS IN MY 6 YEAR OLD!!!"
For godssakes...
A thong for little girls? Really??
Oh this is nice...juicy babies!!!
You all know I'm not a prude...but STILETTO HEELS FOR INFANTS?
WHAT THE FUCK?
And don't even get me started on pageant moms who do this shit to their kids...
.. --> / message --> .. --> sig --> __________________
(Some names have been changed to protect the innocent...and stupid)
At my work, I maintain and update a lot of data each week on a large formula intensive excel spreadsheet with mulitple tabs that all link to each other.
Each week, you need to make sure that the current week cells of the 'dashboard', the front page summary of all the information are linked to the correct week entries futher into the spreadsheet. Simple enough.
I share this document, which is on a shared drive, with a woman in the neighboring region.
Ok I'll start by saying that this woman is a tool. Sweet. Pretty enough. But a tool.
I'm still very much in the learning process of this job and, believe me, there is a lot to learn. I'm finally getting comfortable with a lot of the data, though, what it means and where it's derived from - and for me, that's crucial in doing my job right: understanding every single digit and cell.
During training, Sarah, the gal who was showing me the ropes, told me that the gal, we'll call her Loopy, just could never get the hang of certain functions and, even though there are TWO people in her capacity in that office and ONE person in that capacity, Sarah (now me) in our office, that she had to do portions of Loopy's work because our boss just fucking wanted it right, and could she please just do it. I think that's weird, but alright, whatever.
So I'm flying solo now and I run this huge report that's due each Tuesday.
I show it to my boss, and he says, this is wrong here and here, but I see what you did. I saw what I did, too, and just went back and fixed a few formulas and it came out great. He had also told Loopy that she had a bunch wrong and to work together with me to see if we could get it hammered out.
Loopy calls me to see if I've fixed my part yet, and I said, yeah, in it now, just updating formulas for the current week and making sure they carry over, will be done in a sec so you can get in there (2 people can't be in the document at once).
She says to me: "You know, you don't have to update the forumlas every week".
I say, "What do you mean?"
"You don't have to update the formulas, it does it by itself. All you have to do is save it as Week_0910 (last week's was Week_0909, etc.) and it changes by itself."
Um...
"I don't thnk so, Loopy..."
"Yeah, that's how it works. It works for me every week."
So at this point, I'm actually quite tired and I'm starting to question myself...this doesn't make sense to me at all. Why would the file name have anything to do with the contents of the spreadsheet...or have the ability to change the formulas to pull from different columns...? That can't be right, can it...?
I turn to Sam, a guy who works in my capacity but for another division, who sits near me and run this by him.
He's like..."Uh...no...?"
Ok, that's what I thought. I mean I could name the file "Cheeseburger_0910" and it's not going to change what's in the spreadsheet.
I call Bryan and, of course, the rainman-like smartass he is, says that, well, it is possible, and there's code you can write to do this and he could actually do it...but from everything I've told him, it's unlikely that this is the case with this spreadsheet and this girl's high."
Then I realize something...
One of the functions Sarah has been doing for Loopy is...just going ahead and updating Loopy's formulas for her region while she's doing her own. It doesn't take THAT much effort to 'copy, paste special formula' all the way down and on the individual sales manager's tabs, and since Loopy always fucks it up, she just does it herself so it's right.
...oh boy.
Loopy thought she had a magic spreadsheet! A magical spreadsheet that, when she told it to be Week 10, it knew to change all the formulas inside! Yay!
It was like when Bryan and I were at his nephew's 2nd birthday last weekend. He got a "My first RC car" and was having great fun watching the magic car go by itself because he didn't realize that Uncle Bryan was moving it with the remote control!
My boss, who couldn't figure out what she was doing wrong and where she came up with the numbers that she had, was quite amused when I told him what happened.
Ahhh...Loopy.
He's asked that I call Loopy and enlighten her as to how the spreadsheets actually get updated.
My question is this: Do I break her heart and tell her there's no Easter Bunny, too?
/sigh
I think I know what Loopy's getting for Christmas in her Secret Santa stocking...
Currently
listening
:
Loopy Avenue
By
Kurt Maloo vs. Double
Release date: 2006-12-18
Last night was the Dave Matthews Band concert in Berkeley.
I had been looking forward to that show all summer as it had been a couple years since I'd been able to catch one of his shows.Love Matthews or not, anyone who goes to see him live has to admit it's a show bordering on a spiritual experience.There's nothing like a Dave show. They are my generation's Grateful Dead.
So Bryan and I get there a few hours early and stand in line with our General Admission tickets, and, once inside, we get some pretty decent seats.I mean, really, there are no bad seats at the Greek Theater in Berkeley, a big concrete pit with bench type seats all the way around, but we did pretty good here for being WAAAAAAAAY back in line (I hear people were there since 4am…nuts!Lol).We had some room on the other side of Bryan, but it filled up, and then there was one seat on the other side of me before the aisle.
We'd been sitting there for about an hour and I decide to get up for a few minutes and take our soda bottles - ok Bryan's soda bottle and my beer bottle(s) - to the trash.I almost went to use the restroom, but saw that the line was of epic proportions, so I headed back to my seat.
And there's some woman and her dippy husband sitting there.They had just marched over and sat down.Bryan had told her they were taken, and she said, we'll make room and plopped her ass down.
Wtf.
So I get up there, and ya know, I didn't used to be very confrontational in situations like this, but something about this cow just waltzing in at the last second and snatching up those seats pissed me off.
"Scoot" I said.She sort of looked at me.I said, "SCOOT YOUR ASS NOW, I'm sitting here."So she sort of scoots over like an inch or 2, and I sit down, totally squeezed in next to her.
"You're going to have to scoot over more, I don't need you all smashed up against me."
"I'm not touching you" she says…as one side of her ass is pressed up against me.
I say, "Yes, you are, scoot the fuck over".
I'm really irritated.
"But my husband will be out in the aisle."
"THIS is not my problem – THAT is one seat, YOU are two people, I'm not sure what you're missing".
Bitch doesn't move.
Then she says to me, "It'll be fine, we'll be friends."
WTF
I say, without even thinking, "I don't want to be your fucking friend, move the fuck over."
Yeah, I surprised even myself with that one.
Finally her husband decides to be reasonable and go look for other spots. Plural.
He finds some further up – still not terrible seats, but yeah, they're up a ways.He flags her down, and she shakes her head and waves for him to come back because she doesn't want to move.
I'm not amused.
AT ALL.
So the husband comes back down, and then he leaves again because he can see that he's going to be sitting in the aisle the whole time.Because, HI, THERE WERE NOT 2 SEATS AVAILABLE.
She turns to me and says, "Have you seen Dave before?"
"Yeah" I snap and turn to Bryan and start talking to him about something else.
I hear her kind of laugh, and she's kind of dancing in her seat and clapping for this band that's opening for DMB.
I sit there and proceed to be pissed that I've got some soccer mom's ass pressed up against me.
Finally, I don't know what it was, but I glanced over at her seeming to still be enjoying the show.
And I'm like…geezus…
I am a HUGE bitch. The woman, irritating as she was and obviously not giving ashit about the fact that she barged in trying to create 2 seats where there was only 1 and, in the process, angering this mean wench (me)...was here for the same reason I was – to enjoy an awesome show.
I tap her on the leg and say, sort of mumbly, "I'm sorry I'm such a huge bitch."
"What?" she says.
So I suck it up and say louder:"I'm sorry I'm such a huge bitch.You guys can sit there, we can make room, I'm a huge bitch." (I still hate her).
"Thank you so much for saying that."
Then she proceeds to tell me how she's had a really horrible day, how her friend, who she's been to the last 10 DMB shows with couldn't go at the last minute because she had to leave town like the next day, and so she asked her husband to come, and he didn't really want to go in the first place, but he agreed to go with her, and then, as they were walking to the venue, she had poured a plastic cup with Mike's Hard Lemonade and handed to her husband for a second to check her purse…and her husband gets stopped and issued a ticket for "Open Container" – and it wasn't even his booze…and it's just been kind of a bummer day.
During which she apologizes a few times for getting teary.
Fuck.
"And then you get to deal with a huge bitch to top it off." I said.
So I told her I was sorry for being such a mega bitch again and continued to chat with the interloper.
I took off to visit the restroom line again – the gal who invaded my seat promising to guard my seat with her life lol – and waited in line for about 10 minutes (the men's line wasn't any shorter or I would have just gone in there), during which time I bonded with "Bitter drunk girl who was there with her Ex because they had bought tickets 5 months ago and neither wanted to give up their ticket and and and…"She was fun.Saw her a few more times over the course of the evening, each time getting a big sloppy drunk girl hug and a "She understands me, we're sisters now" from her.LOL
Stopped by the overpriced beer booth and grabbed a couple $8 bottles of Gordon Bierschfor my new "I don't understand personal space" friend to enjoy while watching the show.
So yeah.
Dave Matthews Band was absolutely awesome as usual.They put on a fantastic show, doing a ton of their stuff, but not a lot of the 'usuals' which was pretty cool actually.They did a fantastic cover of Pink Floyd's "Money" that even a purist like me could appreciate, as well as "Watchtower", which was breathtaking as per always, and, as per usual, I'm kicking myself for not buying tickets to all three shows that played over the course of this weekend.
And I made a new friend.Well, 2 if you count bitter drunk girl, but I'm pretty sure she won't remember me.Heh.
