Friday conversations

It's a good day to be eavesdropping in the office if you want to react to some shenanigans.

This conversation:

   "I'm a huge FRIENDS fan - I just binge-watched it - and you know the dark-haired one? Oh...what's her name?"
  "..."

YOU ARE NOT A FAN OF FRIENDS IF YOU REFER TO ANYONE AS "THE DARK-HAIRED ONE"!!!!!

It's MONICA! Her name is MONICA!



And then there was this one:

"Pat, if you want to buy a new baking pan, you just go ahead an buy it for yourself. You don't NEED to buy it. It's like me: 'No, husband, I don't NEED these new shoes, but I'm going buy them anyway.'"

*voice from two rows over*: "You BUY those shoes, melody!"

   "It's not about me, we were talking about Pat and a baking pan."

*voice from two rows over*: "Oh, well you BUY that baking pan, Pat!"
...

Yes. TGIF.

Advice when you need it...or don't

I had a dilemma at work during my spare time so I reached out to my best friend (read: Señorita) to get her to talk me through it. 

A hot topic

With the outcry at recent cauliflower prices soaring as high as $8 per head, I was astounded to catch this low price at my local Chinese grocer, so I snapped a picture and shared it with some friends who were trustworthy for reactions.

Of course then, the following ensued:

Me: Affordable cauliflower...but at a Chinese grocer...I bet it's an imitation cauliflower

Me: "Caurifrower"

dimps: LMFAO

dimps: that was too good. 

Malcolm: Forget caurifrower, what's Finger Hot?

Nightcrawler: Lol! That's an STD.

I hadn't even noticed.

A true "what she saw/what he saw" situation...

After the show it's the after party

And usually the after party (of the party, that is...I'm not exactly putting on any [free] shows at my house) involves a mountain of dishes, a buffet of leftovers, further party-activity coordination, table and floor clean-up, simultaneous guest entertainment, not to mention baby-watching. Is it worth all the trouble, just to have a few hours of socializing with friends?

Always.

Besides, many hands make light work and none of the guests could be coerced to sit down and enjoy themselves. Dishes were washed, leftovers were packed, tables and floors cleaned and swept, and the baby not just watched, but bathed! With all of that so quickly out of the way, it was no time before we jammed a candle into a box of doughnuts and called it a cake for the birthday guest amongst us (despite the actual cake sitting a little further away on the table).

Anyway, I just wanted to say that I had a good time with good friends and family last night. That's all.

Quote of the moment

I think I might either start a category of "that's what she said" or maybe even a whole separate blog of "shit my co-worker says."

Yesterday's gem was as we stepped outside into the humid Toronto afternoon.

   "Ick, it's so humid.  I feel like I'm always so wet and moist!"

I had no words.  I don't even think I said goodbye when we parted ways. :)

Quote of the moment

   "That's not pregnancy rage, that's there-are-too-many-people-on-this-planet rage."

       -- Jubbly

Morning laugh

My work participated in the TELUS walk for diabetes this past weekend.  Getting back to work, my co-worker, who BAILED on the event, put out a general call for any pictures from the walk.  I'd snapped a cute selfie of my peeps, so I thought I'd send it to her.

To: Bailing co-worker
From: melody
Subject: Picture

Here you go, bailer. ;)

---------------------------------------------------------------

And then the response:

To: melody
From: Bailing co-worker
Subject: Re: Picture

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?????????????????
I WAS THERE!!!!!!!!!!

---------------------------------------------------------------

Yup, I lol'ed...so loudly that an instant message popped up on my screen:

"I hear you got my email..."

Quote of the moment:

My dad has a short memory and confuses his words easily most of the time...

   "So, you had lunch today with the sweets?"
   "What?  With what?"
   "The sweets."
   "Do you mean [my volleyball team that's named] Sugar?"
   "Yes."

Oh dad.  I wouldn't trade him for the world.

That's what she said

And really, she said it.  Loudly.  At work.

Our director brought donuts in this afternoon.  My gluten-free friend noticed them go by and groaned - donuts were definitely not going to be gluten-free.  I grabbed one and then visited her at her cube.

   "Hey, want a sprinkle?  These might be gluten-free."

   "No."  She tossed my offered sprinkle into the garbage.

   "Fine, I'll leave you alone then."

I started to walk away when I remembered the best part about the donut I'd picked, so I called back over the cube wall:

   "It's filled with Boston Cream!"

And then.

   "Oh my god, just let me suck all the cream out of it for you!"

Needless to say, we were shushed.

Look like moviestar

It was Malcolm's birthday yesterday and to celebrate, we went out for dinner with the fam and some of the usual suspects.  Malcolm and I arrived with mom, while Brodder showed up with LiMonGuy, and Dimps and Nightcrawler rounded our group out.

We'd of course met up for Malaysian food and enjoyed the usual overstuffing of our faces.  While Brodder and LMG had to leave early, the rest of us stuck around, enjoying the shitty (yes, that's literal) conversation that ensued.  Sometime during our chatting, I motioned for the bill, but it never came.  Even when Nightcrawler tried to sneak up to pay for it, he was also presented with nothing.  Puzzled, I got up to interrogate our servers.

   "Can I get the bill for that table, please?" I motioned to where we were sitting.
   "Oh, no bill - paid already," she explained in her broken English.
   "Paid already?  Who paid?"
   "Oh, the handsome one."

I looked back at the table where of all of us, Malcolm was the only male sitting there at the moment.  I motioned to Malcolm to try to get her to clarify.

   "He paid?"
   "Oh no, not him."

Not Malcolm?  Those at the table who had heard giggled.  So then Nightcrawler?  Since he'd returned to the table by then, I motioned to him and asked again.

   "He paid?"
   "Oh no, the handsome one."

Not Nightcrawler either.  We were in stitches by then.

   "He's tall..."
   "Oh, Brodder!  Were there two tall people?"
   "Yes, yes!  Tall.  Handsome!"

Of course - how could I have mistaken Malcolm or Nightcrawler for the handsome ones?

Quotes of the moment

I sit a few cubes down from a nice lady who's always on the phone, answering complex questions about insurance and claims and coverage.  She's so composed, well-spoken, polite and patient ALL the time.  And then today:

   "Well she should be strung up by her toenails for telling you that!"

Wow, was she ever mad!  :)
...

And then there was this gem from last night where someone was ranting about their roommate:

   "It's nice that she does the laundry and all, but she uses the dryer to dry all the clothes!"

Ludicrous!
...

   "Faster than a buttered ferret!"
        --Jubbly, letting me know how fast she could run in her heels

From _______, with love

My favourite souvenir to give and receive is a postcard, personally written and sent from wherever I (or the sender) has traveled to.  It's perfect: it (usually) gives a picture of where you are, you get to personalize it with a message, and then the postage and stamp is something unique to that country.  Not only that, it's delivered right to your door (or mailbox - whichever the case, it's for YOU).

Boxing day morning found me, JBG, and a few cousins lounging around the dining table over coffee and leftovers. For the hundredth time, I complained to K about the fact that I've sent her a ton of postcards from all the places I'd been to, but I'd still yet to receive one from her from ANYWHERE.  She'd even once sent one to our grandmother from Brazil. To accommodate the fact that grandma didn't read English, K had sent her a picture of herself in Brazil with the simple message on the back: "To grandma :) *heart* K." Grandma still hadn't understood the message or who it was from, but SHE'D GOTTEN A POSTCARD.

I digress.

Jupiter asked what the big deal was with postcards.

"It's just a postcard."

Just a postcard?

I left the table to go grab my collection of postcards I'd received from around the world. I selectively pulled out the ones JBG and Brodder had sent me, including a few randoms - even that selection turned out to be quite a number.

"I got this one when I was 8, from JBG. I spent WEEKS trying to positively identify him from the pictures...why would he lie?"

"This one, I hear the song in my head EVERYTIME I read it."
"What song?"
"Meow meow meow meow - you know...the Meow Mix song?"
"Oh yeah!" *laughs*

As we dug through my collection, there a lot of laughs and a sprinkling of gasps of horror at how ruthlessly hilarious the messages were.

"What's brown and hides in the attic?
The diarrhea of Anne Frank."
"Oh gawd, that's AWFUL!  But funny.  But AWFUL!"

Catching Jupiter in a laugh, I pointed at him.

"THIS is why you send postcards."

"Yeah, I get it now."

Indeed.

Making a point

I somewhat recall waving a marshmallow skewer around that night, pointing the business end of it at TCHC, demanding him to make up his mind (about a girlfriend of mine) and to get his shit together about the other aspects of his life.

I was given more information than I had bargained for.  And an onion.  I was also given an onion. 

Name that song

There's a song that always makes me think of my brother in-law, LaBLee, every time I hear it.  It was his ringtone the first time I met him and it always made me laugh because LaBLee was more often than not all dressed up for/from work and he was always polite and cordial.  But then his phone would ring and this badass gangsta anthem would play and totally knock down this facade.  While I always recognized the "LaBLee" song whenever I heard it, I could NEVER, for the life of me, remember the actual name of the song, despite its popularity and it being a hit with everybody.

Then, of course, I wanted to play the song at the wedding party and dedicate it to my new brother in-law, and of course I couldn't remember the title of it as usual.  However, I wanted it to happen, so I did some research.  I scoured the dance floor for reliable sources and proceeded to shout my questions at them over the music.

   "Dimps!"
   "What?"
   "What was the name of the song that was LaBLee's ringtone?"
   "Oh my god I know it!  Oh god, what is it called?"
   "I don't remember!"
   "Me neither, but I know it!"
   "Ack!  Uh, Yapper!" I called to another friend.
   "Yeah!" he danced his way over.
   "You know that song: 'to the windows, to the wall...'"
   "'...til the sweat drips down my balls...!'"
   "Yes!  What's that song called?!"
   "I can't remember!"
   "Dammit!"
   "Someone will know."
   "I know.  Kee!" I called to another friend.
   "Yeah!"
   "What's the name of the song: 'to the windows, to the wall...'"
   "'...till the sweat drips down my balls, and all these bitches crawl...!'"
Then bystanders joined in, shouting,
   "'...to all skeet skeet muthafuckas! All skeet skeet aw damn...!"
   "Yes!  What's the name of that song?!"
   "I don't know!"

And so it continued.  I think it was finally Señorita's brother that finally came through for me in the end and I managed to request and dedicate the song.  And then it was played and the entire dance floor exploded.  To the windows, to the wall, EVERYONE knew ALL the words and went nuts...and I bet none of us remembered the title afterwards either.

"Get Low" - and we did.

The origins of the onion

Our wedding day was filled with joyous tears.  A lot of them.  I think Malcolm started it.  And I love him all the more of it.  Anyway, to excuse the constant welling ups, Malcolm made the comment - multiple times - that someone in the building must have been cutting onions.

When it came time for our speech together to everyone, we were no exception to the tears.  Just as the tears started up, I was distracted by a body sneaking through the crowd towards us.  I realized it was TCHC just as he slunk up to the head table, but had no clue what he was up to.  Nearly sidelining me from what I had to say, his purpose came to light a moment later.

He wordlessly placed an onion - what turned out later to be THE onion - on the podium and slunk away again with just a quick nod at Malcolm.  Malcolm presented the onion to the audience.

"Here's the culprit!"

There was laughter and more love.  And more tears, even though that onion remained whole the rest of the night.

The WiFi

The data reception at the venue was spotty at best, but in the bridal suite, it was non-existent.  However, I noticed there was WiFi available and so I asked someone to see if they could get the password so we could stream some music.  Some time later, Brodder got an internet stick that he delegated Lingmon Guy to get working for us.  Some time after that last update, Lingmon Guy entered the bridal suite with only his phone in hand.

   "I'm sorry, I just couldn't get the USB internet thing to work on your laptop."
   "That's okay, no worries."
   "In lieu of the ability to stream music, I shall serenade you."
   "Aw, LMG, that's okay," I reassured him from my seat on the floor with my makeup artist, Charming.  As he made his way past us into the corner of the room she commented,
   "He's so funny."
A moment later, we heard LMG's voice.
   "When I was young..."
   "What?"
   "...I never needed anyone..."
   "What are you doing?"
   "...and making love was just for fun..."
   "Oh my,"
   "...living alone, I think of all the friends I've known..."
   "LMG, you don't have to do that,"
   "...when I dial the telephone..."
   "Is he singing?"
   "...nobody's home..."
   "Yes, yes he is."
   "...All by myself...don't wanna be: all by myself. Anymore..."

Well, we can't say we didn't have music.
...

Unbeknownst to anyone, when mom packed up the bridal suite, she found the venue's USB internet stick and, thinking it belonged to one of us, she packed it up and we brought it home.  It wasn't until we were packing to leave for Malaysia that I realized what had happened.  I sent at text to my ever-reliable wedding coordinator:

Me - we stole their wifi
Brodder - Oops.  It didn't work anyway.

True.

What's in a name?

Both of the mothers were scheduled to arrive later that morning which left the bridal suite filled with just us young girls - the only married one was our makeup artist and she had only had her wedding a little over a month before mine.

Thank goodness the moms weren't there.

The topic of conversation was about what to do with your maiden name.  Señorita and my makeup artist, Charming, were of Hispanic/Filipino tradition: their names consisted of both their mother's maiden name and their father's last name: Señorita Looking For Fun, and Charming Iss Living Talent.*  Their tradition followed that at marriage, they would drop their mother's maiden name and adopt their husband's family name; Señorita would lose "For" and Charming would lose "Living."

*obviously these names are made up, but the initials are (pretty much) true for illustrative purposes.

However, while Charming and I both wanted to take our husbands' names, neither of us wanted to lose any of the ones we already had.  After some excited discussion, the suggestion was made to just smash our maiden names into our already existing middle names and take our married names as our solitary last name.  That made me Melody Amazing Choiceto Love, and Charming Iss Living Talent Sublime.  The difference was that to do this, we'd require a legal name change versus just assuming his last name.  And then came the comment from Charming:

   "My name is going to be so long!"
   "But it'll be worth it - you get to keep everything AND get a bad-ass last name to boot.  Just get it legally changed."
   "Yeah, you're right.  And while I"m at it, I should just switch my second and third names so my initials will be 'CLITS.'"

I died.
...

I shared this story with Brodder and we had a laugh.
   "That's like 'Coors Light Iced Tea,'" he pointed out.
   "Oh my god, it is!  Someone didn't think that one through."
   "Or maybe they did.  And it gets funnier the drunker you get - 'I'd like some more CLIT, please!'"

Oh gawd.

Quotes of the moment

A perfect one to follow the previous girly quote...

From one other girl to another:

   "These are really juicy melons."
   "Are you saying you like my juicy melons?"
   "I am."
...

This long weekend, we had a BBQ which we ended off by playing Cards Against Humanity.  If you've ever played it, you'd understand.  It's like mad-libs for people who have no sense of decency. Anyway, we had a howling good time, especially considering the fact that it was some people's first time getting to know each other.  At the end of the game, two strangers-turned-new-friends said their goodbyes to part ways.

   "Hey, that was fun!  It was nice playing and getting to know you."
   "Yeah, same here. I'm sure we'll see each other again."
   "Yup - in hell."

Maybe you had to be there, or maybe you'd have had to have played the game...that was pretty slick.
...

One of the winning card combinations of last night:
I got 99 problems but fisting ain't one.

Indeed.

Quote of the Moment:

From one girl to another:

   "Thanks for sharing your melons with me."
   "Anytime!"

The creepiness of carb withdrawal

I was sitting at my desk today, grumbling about having missed breakfast and my morning coffee when my co-worker came by.

   "Hey, there's a bagel in the kitchen that you should go eat."

   "Oh thank god - I'm starving!  Wait, why don't you eat it?"

   "Because I can't eat it - I'm getting married in a month!  You're getting married in four months; you still have time!"

   "Okay fine."

And so I got up from my desk and headed to the kitchen. To my surprise, she followed me. She wasn't getting food and she already had a drink in hand, so I chalked it up to just being social.

I got to the kitchen, and sure enough, there was one last lonely bagel on a breakfast platter, with cream cheese on the side, waiting to be used up.  I grabbed a plate and opened up the tub of cream cheese, ready to dress my bagel.

   "Wait!"

   "What?"

   "Aren't you going to toast that first?"

   "Oh, I hadn't thought about it. Yeah, I guess so."

   "Well, it's just that that's what I would do."

   "Oh, well, okay."

I tossed the bagel into the toaster, and together, my co-worker and I waited, chatting and making small talk with other visitors to the kitchen. When it was ready, I topped it with cream cheese and headed back to my desk, friend still in tow. I sat down with my bagel and took a bite before continuing my conversation with her.

   "How's the bagel?"

   "Good.  Thanks for letting me know it was there."

As we kept talking, I noticed something. Rather than make eye contact with me, my friend kept eying the bagel. Whenever I would pick it up for a bite, her eyes would follow it from the plate to my mouth and back.

   "Uh, did you want some of the bagel?"

   "No! Of course not!"

   "Well you can't take your eyes off it..."

   "It just looks really good."

   "You're starting to creep me out."

   "I'm kind of going through carb withdrawal."

   "I can tell."

   "So is it good?"

   "Yes, but I think you need to leave."

   "It smells really good."

   "I really think you need to leave."

   "Can you describe the taste to me?"

   "Okay, you really need to go now."

   "I'd better go..."

...

The things that we women do to look good on the big day.  I'm dreading the days that I force myself to go through carb withdrawal and become a food perv myself.