The Wifi Password Is Crowdsourcing

I decided to sit at the communal table in this coffee shop because I wanted to be part of the solution. But instead this is the place where nobody has private convos, or is seemingly here to accomplish anything except talk inappropriately loudly about their Kickstarter project. Everybody looks around occasionally to make sure you are aware of them, and constantly shifts on these group benches so that the sequel to the Industrial Revolution is but a lucid fever dream.

Someone’s phone alarm just went off to remind her to be more annoying.

Near me, a woman eats veggie chili like it matters. I have no issue with her. She looks like she doesn’t believe in Kindles.

Actually, a woman at the other end is yell-whispering to her colleague nee frenemy. This is what she just said: “I’ve seen how hard you work for other people. I’ve seen how hard you work for yourself. You’re just a little freakyass nerd.”

Then she excused herself citing “I have to get a Twizzler.”

And the bench weight shifts and my coffee shudders and the appropriated world music CD plays on…

A poster in the corner melodramatically reads “This too shall pass” as if to say “I’m just a dorm room conversation starter. What do I know?!?”

There is also a cat walking around like he is about to fire all of us for existing. I couldn’t agree more.

My Secret Santa Bent the Laws of Physics for Me!

Call it a seasonal miracle because I had an experience coming back from work tonight that can only be described as holy moly!

As I was braking my car to miss a posse of marauding raccoons that abruptly scurried across the road that separates suburbia from the 40 ft. by 40 ft. park across the street (the woodland equivalent of the projects), my large coffee flew out of its makeshift cup holder and landed at the foot of the passenger seat.

I was dreading the sticky mess I’d find once I had time to pull the car over plus barely began to consider the implications of an overcaffeinated floor rug, but here’s the thing. It didn’t spill. Even though it landed sideways. It all stayed in the cup (save a drop or two). I have no idea how or why, but it just did. Can you even imagine the delight!?! The mystery?!? The wonder!?!

Now, I’m not saying there was a greater force behind all this (see title), but it was the perfect set up for a dastardly spill, yet the universe decided to go ahead and do me a solid by keeping my liquid in check. As for the raccoons, they caroled behind the car all the way home. And by caroled, I mean threw gang signs at me.

If chipmunks went rogue…
photo courtesy of Flickr and striatic

P.S. I feel as though I somehow maxed out my karma credit with this piece of good fortune, but it was totally worth it.

**UPDATE** The same exact thing (minus the raccoons) happened on the way to work the morning after, and guess what? Coffee everywhere, and especially in all the car’s hard-to-reach places. Guess we’re back to reality. The universe is making all kinds of points, but I am having trouble understanding what the feel-good takeaway is from this twin set of drama. And don’t say “Clearly, you should refrain from driving with coffee in the car,” you literalists!

Lights Out, Party On

I love when the power is out at work before anyone even gets there because the atmosphere quickly devolves into this post-apocalyptic underworld deal as people start arriving. I accomplished more coworker bonding, more productivity, and more life camaraderie in the face of a natural phenomenon than I ever thought possible.

Us grunts covered so many topics while we tidied up our work spaces and flipped through relevant magazines (there’s little else to be done without a hard drive) such as the weather, non-work friends, our morning routines, the necessity for department flashlights, and the weather. I know!!!

It reminds me of this enchanting horrorfest. Feels like it was just yesterday.

Even the vending machines were a no-go!
photo courtesy of Flickr and chilie

Also, I am the poster child for dumb consumers everywhere. I went to a corporate coffee dealer to get some cocoa drink today. And they had regular hot chocolate and signature hot chocolate. More or less no difference except a ball of butter and three-quarters of a dollar in price. Of course, I’m all about getting the reg’lar, but something small and sinister beckoned me with, “Why regular? Get signature! Treat yourself!” So I did.

There’s no reason to listen to that voice. But I do. Also mine doesn’t ask nicely. It yells and demands. “GET THE OVERPRICED SHIRT! YOU’LL NEVER WEAR IT, BUT YOU NEED IT LIKE YOU NEED ME. AUGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

I will buy anything, even better-looking money.
photo courtesy of Flickr and pinguino

Lastly and clearly, I’ve been off coffee long enough to get a contact high from just visiting a place that sells it. Placebo-oooooh, snap.

To Dream, Perchance to Caffeinate

Blurgh. I thought three weeks without coffee would allow me to pooh-pooh my addiction right in the face, but it seems these days I just reminisce nostalgically about my former BFF (yes, as in holding hands with giant takeaway cup frolicking through a field), and about how much more alert I would be if I could just have one teeny-tiny, itsy-bitsy sip. The very idea of it is like a sweet melody gently massaging my ears.

I mean, I’m all for naps (for example, I voted yes on Prop ZZzzZz), but a 24-hour zombie dreamstate is a bit much, even for me.

Coffee cups make for great moments of reflection.
photo courtesy of Flickr and Gunjan Karun

On a more life-sustaining note, every day this week has been a reason to celebrate some occasion in the office, whether it be a farewell party or a holiday potluck or a gift basket arriving fortuitously and perkily, and today, a birthday!

It really doesn’t get old. I can’t imagine this getting old. I just can’t. I know there was that Seinfeld episode where Elaine got sick of office cake, but I often yearn for superficial conversation and forced camaraderie right in the middle of the day, and it happens just like clockwork.


I was most recently advised to joke around with the negative voices in my head, i.e., the ones who disparage everything I do.

I’m going to try it out on paper first. I named my voice Negativitina. Yeah, don’t worry, she thought it was dumb too.

Negativitina: You are doing a horrible job. Everybody hates you. Please give up immediately.
Me: Oh, Tina! You put the T in tease! I swear, it’s just all sunshine and candy rain with you. Hee heee hooo hohooooo!

I’m thinking that I might have to come up with better burns. At this point, I’m trying to tame a phoenix with a squeaky toy. I should go read some YouTube comments. That will pwn the n00b right out of me.


In conclusion, Gchat conversations that are NEVER OK look a little something like this:

Oh but there’s more…

Life Likes Me, But Not in That Way

So today I went to the hair salon with my mother and sister for some Ya-Ya Sisterhood of the Traveling Sexy Pants in the City-type girl fun. I was actually just there to watch my sibling and parent get beautified, while I gaped like an unscheduled ogre in the corner.

But that’s not the surprise-wow-cool part!

The exciting part is that my stylist who I have gotten a few haircuts from in the past (but have not seen for close to eight months) came up to me as soon as he spotted me and boldly pronounced, “I saw you on TV!!” in front of all the princesses and lala’s in the room! (He knows I do stand up.)

Me: “Noo, where?”

Stylist: “On Last Comic Standing, you were in the New York audition, right?”

Me: “Yeah! It was just a flash of me!”

Stylist: “Yeah but still, really cool!”

So then I was floating for a good long while.

Oh, I’m getting more and more big-headed by the day!
photo courtesy of Flickr and Gentil Garçon [sombres présages]

Until I went to get a hot chocolate at the bakery next door and they straight up gave me a mocha without my knowledge! So purely by accident, I have fallen off the clean wagon again. And I sensed something was off but I kept drinking it, willing it to decaffeinate itself. Finally, I went back for an exchange, though my heart was racing like a…racehorse (from the espresso, natch).

However, the real customer service tour de force happened last night. My family went to a Chinese restaurant and when the fortune cookies were dealt, mine turned out to be a real brain-puzzler.

“A clever crow will always paint its feather black.”

Our whole family couldn’t come up with a satisfactory meaning for it so my mother asked for the manager. When the waitstaff started to look all worried, she added with exasperation, “No, it’s not about you guys! The service was fine!! I just have a question about this fortune!” Which made us seem like real eccentric nitwits, I’ll tell you that much.

In any case, the fortune’s explanation was very reasonable. The smart man blends in and doesn’t show off. Of course he does…you don’t see a crow flying around with peacock feathers because that would be ridiculous. Also crows don’t have peacock feathers but I guess that’s neither here nor there. Also this entire entry proves I did not take my fortune’s advice at all.