An International Affair

We stumbled upon the International Folk Festival and Street Fair this evening by accident. We were looking for the new barbecue food cart, Blister, and there we found it: smack in the middle of almond-eyed Egyptian dancers, Rexburgian Mexicans with flat tops, and ragged toddlers dodging their parents.

The pulled pork sandwich was okay, but nothing to write home about. A little dry, if you must know. We then sampled various fudges. I preferred the pinoche, but theirs was too soft so we brought home a baby brick of turtle fudge.

Meanwhile, crazy pre-teen double-dutchers were getting down to Lady Gaga in the middle of Main Street. I was a little shocked that the parents in this convent-esque town allowed their children to jump rope to such "controversial" music. Lady Gaga represents everything Rexburg abhors: Bisexuality, free love, and lookin' good.

I'm a tad ashamed to admit I saw Salt this weekend, and enjoyed it. I think I get embarrassed when I want to see something that has Angelina Jolie in it because I think of her as a tramp. I don't care how many kids she adopts or how many things she does with the UN, the woman's trampy. And weird. However. I always like a good spy/action movie. Maybe it's because I'm a total badass in my dreams. That's right, I fight and shoot guns with the best of them.

Curtsy Low

Some days just suck and you don't even realize it. Some days it is hard to be a girl. And no, that was a not a reference to Madonna or to the Madonna episode of Glee (which was escandaloso, no?). PMS-ing totally sucks. It sucks to be fine one moment and then be verging on tears the next. Self control = AWOL. Not to mention irritability levels that shoot higher than Justin Timberlake's trembling falsetto.

I was screaming at the TV last night while watching Gossip Girl's season finale. Yes, I know, the finale aired however long ago and I'm the last to see it. But how dare anyone presume to shoot Chuck Bass. Eastern Europeans think they are the you-know-what.

However.

PMS also gives license to my WHO-GIVES-A-______ attitude. Today I did what I have been procrastinating. I finally contacted a few men at work who intimidate me. El Presidente put me in charge of one of his pet projects (why he marked me for this task nobody knows, as a few individuals have oh so kindly pointed out). I was intimidated by these men because

1) I don't know them
2) I don't know anything about their specialties
3) I'm worried they will think I am an idiot because I don't know how to begin to ask about how their areas of expertise can help with this project

Honestly though, you know you're not meant for the business world when: after finishing part of a different project (with good results!) you bound/leap/skip up to your boss and with a final but tiny curtsy show him the finished product.

Today I thought, 'Who cares what they think of me? I'm learning. I can't be expected to know everything. But I can try to not curtsy.' And then I took the plunge, calling and emailing my way to a meeting request.

And then I came home and watched four hours of TV on Hulu. Bless this modern age where I can let the dumb things I do all day sink away in a good episode of 30 Rock. And thank you Alec Baldwin, because you are hilarious.

First Impressions

Gone are my days of in-between semester temp jobs. The job I have now is my first legitimate, fulltime, salaried, post-college job. Needless to say, I was pretty nervous for interviews and then my first week or so of work.

On the second day, I found myself sitting in the office of the head of a department. This was a man who the first words out of his mouth in my presence were, “I never smile. I don’t like the way I look when I smile.”

I had a bit of a cough that week and was trying not to cough all over my hands because I was shaking hands all day long. It’s just common decency. We were talking about Japan, I think, when the urge to cough struck.

Unfortunately, I was chewing gum and as I tried to cover my cough with crook of my arm, the force of the cough launched the bright blue gum out of my mouth. It sailed high and straight over my new boss’ desk and landed next to a bookshelf, stuck to the carpet.

Mortified, I jumped out of my chair, squealed, “Excuse me! I just shot my gum across your office!” and snatched the slimy wad off the carpet and flicked it into the trash.

This man is no longer my boss, but surprisingly, we’re friends. The other week I reminded him of this incident and miraculously, he didn’t remember. Turns out, lots of embarrassing things happen in his office…like a grown woman pooping her pants and then forcing him out of his own office because she didn’t want him to look at her.