Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: adulthood, Blackjack, cards, casino, gambling, humor, Las Vegas, Middle-Age, office etiquette, southern, subourbonmom
Now that I sit in a cube, (it’s a cool one with open squares as my “walls” that make it look really modern—but it’s not just a bunch of crates from the back of the 7-11), I’ve realized my work environment is a lot like Vegas. This is not necessarily a bad thing–after all, people win big in Vegas. But it was a little disturbing once the thought came into my head. For all my fellow Cubies, see if this sounds familiar—maybe we’ll all win big!
Ten Ways My Office is like Vegas
- There is a certain amount of anticipatory energy humming through the office during prime hours (for us, it’s first thing in the morning)—you never know what’s going to happen. At the end of the business day, much like Vegas in the wee hours before dawn, there is a desperate determination to get that last big win before leaving.
- I’m not convinced fresh oxygen isn’t being pumped into the cold office air to keep us awake—although I did find the right thermostat to mess with. Good luck, my young Cubies! You have no idea what a temperature rollercoaster we’re about to get on!
Whenever I open my email, I get the same rush as when the dealer first deals out a Blackjack hand—I don’t know whether I’m going to get an ace or a deuce.- Like Vegas, dress is no longer formal. Khakis are the norm.
- When there’s a shriek as someone wins big (i.e. makes a sale, finishes a project, etc.)—We “air” fives all around, and people come wandering from all over the “casino” to see who won.
- The food/drinks (coffee in a Keurig dispenser and animal crackers) are plentiful, often served buffet-style. John Pinette (R.I.P.) would be jealous.
- The other “guests” love to discuss strategy, and every now there’s a card counter who gets removed from the casino.
- The entertainment (webinars, conferences, in-house training) is there for the taking, and I hear it’s easy to comp tickets, if you like that sort of thing.
- There aren’t any windows or clocks—I have no idea what the weather or time is at any given moment.
- The pit bosses are always watching—ok, not really, but they do have a habit of sneaking up on me from behind and watching what I’m doing, mostly because they know it irritates the crap out of me—I’m so getting a rearview mirror.
Offices aren’t always where we would choose to spend our time, all things being equal, but if you’re in the right frame of mind, it can be fun. So double down if you get dealt and ace, and let it ride.
Filed under: Misc. Humor, Posts, Sports | Tags: adulthood, airports, Breakfast Club, Energy, health, humor, Middle-Age, office etiquette, Running, south, southern, sports, subourbonmom
Going from teaching to sitting in front of a computer all day has caused some weird side effects—one of which it that I sometimes have the almost uncontrollable impulse to run short distances in inappropriate places. I think this has to do more with expending extra energy than any kind of office-induced physical Turetts.
In case you have any of these urges, here are my top fave places to run inappropriately (yes, I’ve done most of them):
- The office: racing your colleagues to the bathroom is just fun—sorry Kelly, had to do it.
- Church: there’s something exhilarating about sprinting down that plush carpeted aisle where most people creep in on Sunday’s, heads bowed—but only during non-service times. I know many people will think it’s disrespectful, but I think Jesus would smile, knowing someone was having so much fun in a place where so much serious thought happens.
- Outside in rain puddles—especially if your friends don’t see you coming and you splash in a puddle as you breeze by, getting them soaked; it’s even better if you don’t like the person you just splashed.
- Through sprinklers in the summer, outside stuffy office buildings—definitely fun and worth the chilly air-condition-induced cold you will have later.
- Down a middle or high school locker-filled hallway a la Judd Nelson in “The Breakfast Club.”
- Down the aisle in a store that has framed posters hanging on one of those carousels, letting your hands graze each frame as you go buy;
- The office again—this time pushing an office chair in a modified office Olympics.
- Hotel hallways—this one is better with two people racing and hip-checking each other as you careen down the hall. If you slam into a hotel room door, even better. Usually this seems to happen late at night, but it also occurs when children are present.
- Hospitals—I’ve been binge-watching too much Grey’s Anatomy. Haven’t done this one yet, but I’m “dying” to do it, yelling “Code Blue! I need a doctor Stat!”
- Airports—on the fast-walker thing. That’s just super-fun, and nobody will look at you too hard, they just assume you’re late for our connection.
Working as an adult is necessary and often rewarding, but when you have that crazy urge to expend some extra energy, run with it!
Disclaimer: Subourbonmom and its author or affiliates (i.e. Hubby and Daughters 1&2) are not responsible for any repercussions that might happen to you if you do any of these activities.
Filed under: Parenting, Posts | Tags: adulthood, driving, family, humor, kids, Marriage, Middle-Age, mom, parenting, south, southern, subourbonmom, teenagers, teens
Wow–times have changed in our house. The conversations have moved from questions like, “Mommy, are unicorns real?” to “Mom, did you ever smoke weed when you were in high school?”
That question alone has sent many a parent into a tailspin. Add to that the following recent family conversations, and you begin to see why bourbon’s calming effects are…welcome.
Yesterday, my newly-minted driver, Daughter #1, went to Whole Foods after soccer practice and got some chocolate milk for herself and her sister. After deciding it tasted good at first, like butter or melted ice cream, apparently it wasn’t so hot at the finish.
Daughter #2: “It tasted kind of like udders.”
Hubby: “How do you know what udders taste like?”
Me (to myself…): Oh no…
Daughter #2: “I harken back to my youth.”
An actual, recent road trip conversation:
On a road trip in the car, Hubby decided to pass the time (briefly–he learns quickly) by beating out the rhythm of a song on the top of my exposed thigh.
Me: “Just so you know, it’s really not cool to play the drums on your wife’s thigh fat.”
Daughter #1 (in the backseat): “I know! He does it to me too!”
Hubby (to Daughter #1): “Yeah, but yours is all muscle. It makes a different sound.”
Me: GLARE
And finally, after Daughter #2 owned up to lying to one of her teachers last year, Daughter #1 couldn’t stand it:
Daughter #1: Mom, you laughed when Daughter #2 told her teacher she had a disease so she could wear her short shorts to school, but you got mad when I told my teacher I couldn’t turn in my homework because the printer was broken when it wasn’t. That’s so not fair!
Daughter #2: It wasn’t a total lie–I was still getting tested.*
Me: There’s a big difference between lying about not doing your homework and wearing shorts that are too far above the knee, when you’re legs are a mile long.
Daughter #1: (Sighs…) I guess either way you’re going to end up a hooker.
Hubby: True, true.
*(Daughter #2 does not have a disease. She’s fine!)
Filed under: Middle Age, Misc. Humor, Posts | Tags: adulthood, death, family, humor, Middle-Age, news, obituaries, subourbonmom
One of my favorite things to do is read the obituaries. Not because I morbidly enjoy hearing that people have died, but because trying to get a sense of who someone was in 100 words or less is a fascinating exercise. Most of the time, obits are pretty boring, with endless lists of surviving relatives, no cause of death, and lists of clubs or activities trying to convey the dignity of the person who passed.
I want my obit to read like my life really is—a little weird, a lot of fun, and without a lot of dignity. I think all obits should be required to have two things:
- Cause of death. This might be painful in some circumstances, but the fact is, if you leave us to our imaginations, we are pretty much guaranteed to think of something far worse than what really happened. Even suicide can be addressed delicately, such as “took his own life.” I‘ve been told the NY Post does this, and it makes people more sympathetic.
Why is knowing the cause of death important? Because if the person died young I want to know why, and if there is something I could be protecting my children from; or, if the deceased died from something like pancreatic cancer, is there an increase in pancreatic cancer deaths in my area? Should I be concerned? If the person died from old age, were they in an “old peoples’ sanctuary?” (description courtesy of Daughter #1) Which one? I might want to go there–or not.
- At least two interesting facts about the person, and I don’t mean “Johnny served in the military for twenty years.” I mean something personal, like “Johnny could have drunk Gerald Ford under the table, if they’d ever met,” or “Sally was known for her bravery in wearing horizontal stripes.”
I’m so tired of reading a who’s who directory of Rotary Clubs and philanthropic giving. Tell me what would have made me want to get to know the person. Did he play practical jokes on people? Did she like modern art? Did she like to ride ATVs with her hair on fire? People like me want to know.
And that’s probably why obits are what they are–because people like me want to know.
Filed under: Posts | Tags: adulthood, aging. Time Magazine, alternative power, cancer, cosmetics, crop dusting, Farts, flatulance, gas, humor, Middle-Age, news new study, subourbonmom
Time Magazine recently had an article in which some medical researchers from the University of Exeter in England claimed that smelling farts may prevent cancer. (http://time.com/2976464/rotten-eggs-hydrogen-sulfide-mitochondria/?iid=ent-article-recirc)
That’s right, smelling farts may prevent cancer.
According to the article, hydrogen sulfide gas (a.k.a. Air Bagels) in small doses may prevent damage to cells’ mitochondria. If I remember correctly from a dozen flash card studying episodes during the Daughters’ biology classes, mitochondria:
- Look like small blobs inside a bigger blob, and
- Control cell growth and death.
So let’s get this straight–mitochondria control when cells grow and die, two things that feature heavily in the aging process and cancer. Then, what I’m hearing these people say is that smelling a Ghost Turd will make me younger and prevent cancer.
Huh. The fountain of youth and a miracle drug all in one! And even better, we can make it ourselves, without destroying the environment. Who would’ve predicted the world could be so cool?
So how can we harness this incredibly funny gift from nature? The movie Water World, comes to mind–they had a ship full of pigs making methane gas to use as a power source. Couldn’t we do that with hydrogen sulfide? I can see it now—a whole new dystopian world where the class system revolves around those who make a good Bean Burp and those who don’t.
Flatulence would become a commodity to be traded or exploited—much like our athletes are now. Let’s call those excessively gaseous folks “Bombers.” As long as a Bomber is a good producer, he is treated like a hero, nourished and cared for while the “product” is extracted and used for the betterment of humanity. When a Bomber is no longer useful, he is retired.
In a world of kindness, Bombers would also receive the same benefits from the gas as those lucky enough to afford it–living longer and looking younger. However, since the world generally is not good and kind when it comes to producers and consumers, I suspect the very few (i.e. the rich) would benefit from the masses (the Bombers), who would most likely be herded into holding pens and left to their own smelly devices. Beans, broccoli and other fibrous vegetables would become high commodities, leaving the meat industry to fall off….hmmm…would this also help with Global Warming?
So, as with all of our recent scientific breakthroughs, we are once again faced with the dilemma—is it morally right to go down this road? Do we dare start exploring the true benefits of the Backdoor Breeze? Are we ethically developed enough to handle this technology?
And more importantly, what would happen to the annoying yet fun art of “crop dusting?”
(Urban Dictionary Definition for Crop Dusting: “Surreptitiously farting while passing through a cube farm, then enjoying the sounds of dismay and disgust.”)
Subourbon Mom 