stuff and nonsense

The phrase "stuff and nonsense" always reminds me of fluffernutters. Because those are, in my mind, "fluff and nut-sense."

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Remember that new job I got? Yeah, I still don't have it. Now, in fairness to the HR Gods (Hyraton and Quittilo), they said I wouldn't be starting until they could find an adequate replacement for me, which they said could take "anywhere from two weeks to two months."
I just found out that one of my bosses is on vacation for the next two weeks, and another one is on vacation for a week after that. So the utmost earliest I'd be getting this job is September 1st. Which would be six weeks into the two month scenario. Mrrrrrrr.


However, I also just found out that, starting mid-August, I get my raise! YAY! Who wants to come over and watch my new cable???

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I saw a profile online where a guy was looking for his "counter part." I would like the whole counter, please, not just a part. (I have none in my kitchen.)

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A woman at work this morning -- it was Free Bagel Breakfast Friday -- sawed the top off of a muffin and put the bottom back in the basket. In a loud, accusing voice, I said, "Wait a second! You're putting the muffin bottom back in the basket? Nobody's going to want that!"


Her: But I feel bad throwing it out! I didn't even touch it. It's a perfectly acceptable muffin.


Me: But that's the crappy part of the muffin! Nobody actually likes that part!


Her: Yeah, but you know, some people will settle for it if they have no other muffin options.


Me: Muffin Bottom? I don't know.


Her: We'll do an experiment. I'll leave it there, and I bet it'll be gone by this afternoon.


Me: Someone might throw it out...


Her: We'll see.


She was right. She came by this afternoon (while my mouth was full of iced tea, which almost took a vacation to my sinuses) and told me that, in fact, Muffin Bottom was gone.
Clearly I forgot that I work in an office full of vultures. A whole passel of muffin-bottom-scarfing-vultures.

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My friend recently had a baby (i.e., two months ago) and has already shifted into using Mommy Speak. She told me, when I visited the other day, that her daughter "hadn't poopied for 36 hours." Now, I can understand that kind of phraseology when the kids are old enough to hear and understand "shit" or "poop" or "dump a hot one" but not to know better than to use them loudly in public. But at that age? I don't know. It kind of made me want to poopie in my panties.

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I think I may have scared a guy at the gym today.


I left the house this morning with the intention of being nice to people and striking up conversations with as many (non-creepy-looking) strangers as I could stomach. So I complimented a couple of people on the subway and asked a guy in the elevator if anything fun ever happened on the fifth floor, where UN Ops has its headquarters. ("Not really," he said. "What's on 11?" "Law firms," I said, and we both rolled our eyes together and laughed. See? Talking to strangers can be fun!)


Anyway, at the gym, there are three or four of us who get there at about the same time, work out for about as long as each other, and periodically stare at each other in the mirror unintentionally, while thinking of other things. (Sadly, Fidel Castro has disbanded from our merry crew.)


Today, however, none of my gym peeps were there. About ten minutes before I was done, one of them showed up. I looked at him, took of my earphones and said, "where ya been?" He looked like a deer in the headlights of a very sweaty SUV, so I looked at my watch and back and him and said "it's about time, you know."


I'm not sure he was amused.


I'm not sure I care.

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I saw Bergen County Mike at Chipotle yesterday. He joked that I could pay for his lunch if I wanted to.


Oh Bergen County Mike, if only you were cuter. And taller. And younger. Then I'd totally buy your lunch.


Instead, I think I might buy you a counter part.