Jul 29, 2009

Takin' it to the TOP!

I recommend everyone participate in a co-worker carpool. Everyday I have to make the journey from Dallas to Arlington, approximately a 25 min. drive, to where I work. I still can't figure out why the office is located here, but all is not lost. There are a multitude of reasons why I love the carpool. Yeah I'm going green, saving the earth, preserving the ozone for my grandchildren...blah, blah, blah. The real perk is the witty rapport, not to mention my availability to nap in the morning (It remains uncertain whether or not the other carpoolers appreciate drooling and head-bobbing.). We jam out to some sweet tunes, and at times discuss the formation of an acappella group. Fostering creativity and forming lasting social bonds, all while in the normally dead time spent driving. Hot damn. It may be the most productive thing I've done. Sometimes there is even a little discussion of our daily trials and tribulations. We give each other advice, tell jokes, and at times there is strategizing for how to ascetertain a favorable position in the ongoing office politics. Win. Win. Win. Here's a little something about each of the others...

James: The most senior at the company and by far the wisest member of the team. Dare I call him our leader? Don't let the serious exterior fool you, he will rock out so hard its scary sometimes. I'm talking some REALLY high notes.

DJ: Ever the jokester and freestyle jammin' enthusiast, he is the newest to the group, and probably the perkiest. He recently bought a car, but even if he were still dead weight he'd be in the club. He says all the funniest quips, and usually forgets them afterward...I'll start claiming them as my own if this continues.

Cathryn: She began work with me and another girl on the same day (Shout out to you Boomer Sooner, wish you were in the group!) We get along quite well, and she's shopping for a girlfriend for the prince. She's a good friend and compatriot. Enough said.

The lineup includes 2 girls and 2 boys. Its always the girls together in the front or together in the back. And vice versa. This seems to create seamless and comfortable conversation...so I'm curious what would happen should there be a mixup in the seating chart. I don't know if I want to find out. I don't like the formation of teams, but if it ain't broke I don't wanna fix it. The boys have an insatiable appetite for rocking out with their (you know what) out, so I think mixing up the seating would seriously detract from the quality of their arrangements. Thank the lord we don't have some douche bug in the mix. (Unless it's me....) That would ruin everyone's fun.

And don't even get me started on Dirty Friday. There are certain times when R-Rated, or even some X-Rated, tidbits/jokes/giggles find their way into our coversation. Those are reserved for Fridays, or "Dirty Friday", only. We have to maintain some level of decorum here. We are civilized and educated professionals after all. Examples include: various intimate acts, who we would pay $175 to do it to, or just good ole gossip. Its the best day of the week. The dirty talk always makes it into Monday-Thursday, but has to be followed by an obligatory "Hey. Save it for Friday." Can't wait for Friday!

I could go on about the merits , but I don't want to belabor the central point: Carpool is awesome. Do it. You could just only hope that you're trapped in the car with gems like I am.

Jul 28, 2009

The Bachellorette Puts me into a Glass Case of Emotion

Today will focus on some television-related items. Possible rant to follow.
So have have a lot of beef with the Bachellorette. I mean the show and Jillian Harris. Last night's finale left me with some unanswered questions. First and foremost, why in the balls didn't she pick Kiptyn? He was like a gillion times hotter and he loved her "passion for people and zest for life." Don't get me wrong, Ed was a real stand-up gentleman, but for goodness sakes he couldn't even perform on the fantasy date. Red flag honey. I do hand it to ed for not shaving his chest. Kudos for maintaining some semblance of being a real man. Brace yourself for a bitchy thing: She isn't even that cute. I'm annoyed she's getting these guys at all. Had to say it.

The more pressing issue with this show is that creates a tormentous tornado in my mind. On the one hand, I love how a girl has dudes vying for her affections. I really like the sexual equality of having a Bachellorette show. I just want to burn my bra in excitement. But on the other hand, I really don't know how to treat these 30 men competing to find their "one true love" and crying on national television in the process. It may be the southern girl in me, but I wish they would just fight each other and have strength competitions (Majorly unprogressive of me to think that?). The d-bag factor is already high because they're all pretty metro, but the crying just goes too far. These are smoking hot men...but c'mon. The emotional sausage fest makes me want to barf. See hot tub ridiculousness. You know how I know you're gay? You're in a hot tub with 5 other men.

Even with all of these things happening, I can't help but tune in. I exited the treadmill and sprinted back to my apartment during commercial break so not to miss any. Embarassing. One point for you ABC. I continue to be a slave to trash television.

Next television antecdote: I've discovered a new show on TLC called Dancing Tweens. Introduced to me by the nugget, the reining emporess of all television, it features kids of various ages competing in ballroom dance. All of the children are from familys of some sort of Eastern European immigrants. Like they just came to America two years ago, the majority from Lithuania. TLC seems to have quite the knack for finding the freaks of the world and turning them into television gold. Don't get me started on those damn Gosselins. But in this case, their uncanny ability to expose fascinating pockets of cultural oddity has peaked my interest more than ever. For a tasty piece: http://tlc.discovery.com/videos/dancing-tweens-dancing-tweens-sneak-peek.html. Get back to me on whether or not you find it appalling, particularly the dancing tween boys. Its really unnatural, but of course it's getting DVR Season Pass. TLC has truly out-freaked itself again.

Jul 23, 2009

Hello cyberspace!

After much ado, the flagship posting of Poodleism has set sail. I'd long considered the merits and drawbacks of blogging, and, as an effort to diversify my presently very limited creative outlets, I'm going to give it a whirl. To coin the term "Poodleism", I opened the floor for suggestions. Many of my near and dear sounded off on how to concisely incorporate my varied interests into a singularly badass title. Mission accomplished, and not in the George W. Bush way. Shout out to my homie in NYC who thought of the winning title. He's really hip because he works at MTV. Also in the interest of context, the title "Poodleism" refers to my best buddy, sidekick, roommate, compatirot, shoulder to to cry on, drinking buddy and dependent, Chubacca. He goes by Chuy for short. I'll refer to him as the prince. He is a one-part Mexican and one-part Wookie 12 lb mini-poodle whom I often plan my life around. I'll admit that I probably should focus on my own life, but i just can't help myself, he's just so damn cuddly. Here's him and I ringing in 2009. I don't often put people clothes on him because its creepy, but holidays don't count. Around the holidays, the girl in me just takes over and I can't satisfy my inner beast that craves for festiveness. You'll see.

This weekend I took a forray into car-shopping with my manfriend. His name is Austin and he's my significant other/partner in crime. I think I'll refer to him as manfriend because "boyfriend" just doesn't seem to suit someone who wears a tie to work everyday and can buy himself a new car, which he did on Saturday. (Sidenote...this car shopping ordeal ignited yet another "when did I get old enough to be doing this?" bout of confusion within me, another theme which could be recurring). He settled on a gently used 2005 Volvo. It smelled like old people in there, which he thought a testament to its good condition. I found it superior because it is the same vehicle driven by my dream man, Edward Cullen (manfriend doesn't like vampire talk). He traded his 190,000-mile 1993 Buick for it. Nicknamed "The Beast", this car has candy paint and a sports package. Despite these perks, the Beast was in pretty poor condition....if you can imagine...and was only worth $500.

Totally ridiculous: I have my eye on some Christian Louboutins more expensive than that. It feels a sad to be rid of the Beast, a constant in manfriend's life since he was a teen, but lets face it its a piece. Boyfriend is movin' on up to the eastside...I can't wait to take a spin in it...godwilling the Beast will make it all the way to Fort Worth to make the swap. Hopefully the prince will be allowed in the new wheels. RIP Beast.

Proud moment in my fledgling adulthood! I finally had my washer and dryer delivered to my new apartment in Dallas (Thanks dad!) Much to my dismay, the plug attached to the dryer was non-compatible with the outlet in my apartment. Balls. After quick calculation that my apartment is WAY to small to hang dry all my stuff, I made my way to Lowe's for a part. Manuel, the friendly helper, informed that I would need to rewire the dryer with a new electrical cord. Double balls. After taking the back panel off of the dryer, removing the old cord, attaching the new one (edgy that I would electricute myself to death all the way) and reassembling the thing thing...I'm in business. Although I broke another part (Triple balls... I'll need to replace soon) and inhaled enough lint to suffocate a large animal, I'm going to put a tally in the victory column. I can add electrical work to my short handy-woman resume. Thank god for the pink Toolkit, miss you ALB. :)

New job. New blog. The prince is in good health and spirits. New apartment with laundry. Manfriend is rolling on dubs. On my way to being an electrician extraordinarre-ess. All things considered...VICTORY.

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