Egg Nog Latte?

I love the holidays. I really do. I love the season change, decorating the house, wrapping presents, lots of food, family etc. One of my favorite parts is Egg Nog, and better yet, Egg Nog Lattes.

I remember the first time I ever tried the tasty drink. We were shopping in the Albertson's in Newport Hills (remember that one, Mindy - it sold the encyclopedias at the front and our Moms bought one book every time they went grocery shopping?) and they had Egg Nog out for a sample. The nice old lady behind the folding table offered me a mini-dixie cup, and after receiving my mother's approval, I tried it. And LOVED it. I couldn't believe there was something that yummy in the world that I never experienced before that moment. Ever since, I've been hooked, and attribute the 5 lbs (at least!) gained each holiday season to my addiction to the 'nog.

Okay, back to Egg Nog lattes. I love the Starbucks E.N.Ls and each year my incessant need for them lovingly reappears. Since this is the first holiday season that we have a mortgage to pay, and the first time my office building is situated between three Starbucks, I have realized that this once flirtateous affair has become quite expensive.

So this morning I decided to take the later bus and use the good ol' espresso machine to create my own "Erin's Holiday Special." Then I realized the only ground coffee we had was a Vanilla Macadamia nut Hawaiian blend -- ground to drip settings. Knowing that I had enough time to make a drink, but not nearly enough time to grind more beans, I decided to use the Vanilla Maca-whatever. I prematurely patted myself on the back for creating such a "wonderful invention."

"Everyone will start using this coffee in their Egg Nog lattes. People will come far and wide to try an 'Erin Holiday Special.'"



There's really a clear and definite reason why coffee bars don't make Egg Nog lattes with Vanilla Macadamia Nut Hawaiian coffee. Dude, it's so nasty. Now I want a real one from Starbucks.

I feel creepy

Our holiday party this year is themed the "Past, Present, and Future Ball." The idea behind it being you can come dressed as any time period.

I am creating the imagery for the company emails to invite everyone to the event. We came up with the idea to do some paper dolls - where a Two Degrees person is thinking of the different outfits that they can wear to the party. So I'm using paper dolls that I found on the internet to trace, then create their past, present and future outfits.

The female doll was easy because there are a TON of paper doll websites out there for old ladies who, for some ungodly reason, find it "fun" to collect paper dolls. I found a modest female doll to trace and went forward with her fun outfits.

Then I was told to do another version, except this time with a male doll. This is where the creepy part comes in. It's once again not too hard to find male paper dolls, but most of them are characters from Jane Austen novels. I needed to find an initial doll that was somewhat modern since we had to start out with a current Two Degrees Doll - thinking of what they would wear.

I had the hardest time finding a damn doll until I came to a listing titled: "La Vida Loca Latino."

No, it can't be. Seriously?

If you were thinking what I was thinking, you were thinking of Ricky Martin and his "Livin la Vida Loca - come on!" song. And if you were thinking that, you were correct.

If you thought I found it creepy that I found a paper doll that portrayed Ricky Martin, you're only partly correct (which I have to say, that since it's only partly correct is the saddest thing ever).

Before I divulge the creepiness, let me make sure you are all familiar with Paper Doll- workings. If you remember correctly, one begins with a cardboard, 2 dimensional doll standing erect on a paper stand. From there, you "dress" the doll by cutting-out different, pre-drawn, 2 dimensional outfits and "tab" them on. The reason why I mention this is because it's important for me to point out that since you're dressing the doll in it's new paper outfits, the Cardboard-Standing Doll is usually wearing only its skivvies. Most of the time, these undergarmets are pretty conservative.

But not with the Ricky Martin Paper Doll, no.

Obviously, some old woman had quite the crush on the Latin pop star, and intricately drew his six pack, his chiseled thighs and yes, the outline of quite a large set of family jewels hidden beneath an extremely tight pair of thighty-whities.

So now you're thinking - "oh she felt creepy because she had to look at the Ricky Martin wang drawing." - and once again, sadly, you are only partly correct.

Remember how I mentioned that I had to trace these figures in Illustrator? SO - here's the creepy part (finally). My monitor faces a big window which gives a straight line of view to the consultants working in the office who aren't on another job. Although one has to be standing to look into it, if the person, say, needed to get a cup of coffee or go grab a printout from the printer, he/she could easily look into this window and see that I am tracing a Ricky Martin drawing with a HUGE package which they can probably see from 20 feet away.

I probably wouldn't of mind if everyone knew why I was doing this drawing. BUT, this invite is for the people on the 19th floor, who are having a separate party from our floor - the 20th.

So everyone thinks the new girl has a thing for Ricky Martin Drawings in his underwear. I guess that will be "my thing."


"Hey, could you go grab that color palette from the 'Underwear-Ricky-Martin-Drawing-Girl? Thanks"

Alarm Systems

Since our neighborhood tends to be little sketchy (and we really have not desire"fit in" by putting bars on the windows), our next door neighbor, Wilson the Barber, referred Chris and I to ADP Security company. Apparently, since Wilson told them about us, we get a bitchin' deal on the service.

On a high note, we've really never been too concerned about our neighborhood. Our only setback was when our neighbor's townhome was broken into while she was there one night. That worried me a little. But on the whole, there really hasn't been anything too crazy.

As I already mentioned, we were referred to the security service - the guy knocked on the door and offered a great deal - how could we pass it up?

Begin Scene:
The installer arrives at the townhome on a Thursday night - two hours late - at 8pm.

Downstairs:
He begins work installing the panel and the motion detector upstairs.

Kitchen:
Chris is finishing up some dishes

Third Floor:
Erin is doing the laundry


9pm - Installer is still not done (good thing I taped, Earl, Office & CSI)

10pm - Installer is still not done (taped Grey's Anatomy too - phew!)

10:15pm - Erin and Chris see flashing blue & red lights outside

Front Window
Erin and Chris look out to see a policeman with his gun drawn, pointing at a gentlemen in Wilson's yard next door

Outside
An abundance of yelling spouts from both parties
Another police car shows up

Gentlemen: "Alright alright - I give up! That bullet grazed me!"

1st Policeman handcuffs the Gentleman, 2nd Policeman places him in the backseat.

Inside
The Installer comes running in the house

Installer: "Whoa - what kind of neighborhood do you guys live in?"

Erin & Chris just laugh.



Nothing extreme has happened to us in the year we have lived here. That installer probably thinks this happens everyday. Poor guy.

YAY C.D.

Green Tea Makes Me Nauseous

I drink a lot of coffee. But I'm trying to cut down because I use so much cream and sugar that it can't be good for me. Since I still need the caffeine, I switched to Green Tea.

And now I remember why I don't drink tea. It makes me feel like I'm gonna throw-up. Seriously. I get dizzy, the top of my tummy starts rumbling and I wonder if I can make it to the bathroom in time before I start blowing chuncks. But the action never happens and after about an hour of drinking water I start to feel better.

Does anyone have any idea as to why this would happen? I thought it was because of the caffeine, but I already drink a buttload of caffeine and it gets me through the day, not the opposite. So I read up on it and found a study at the Linus Pauling Institute at Oregon State University, reading: "few of the participants reported mild nausea, stomach upset, dizziness or muscle pain "

A "few" participants. Why the hell am I the freako?

Any tips on good way to fulfill my caffeine addiction without making me fat or feel like I'm gonna puke?

Design Tip #1 - Working with a Graphic Designer

Okay, just because you are supposedly the boss of a graphic designer does not mean that you suddenly possess any kind of design skills. You went to school for Public Relations, I went to school to be a kick ass designer. I do not tell you how to relate publicly you should NEVER require me to change a design because you "think a watermark would look really cool there."

I KNOW that a watermark would not look "really cool" there because

1) I went to art school for four years to receive my BFA - NOT YOU
2) I keep up with current design trends
3) No has used a fucking watermark in a design since they've done their stationary in the 80s.

Do NOT tell me how to do my fucking job because you think that you're creative because you picked a dusty orange color to paint you goddamn living room. For your information, painting any room orange was so two years ago anyways.

UPDATE - My Colleague - ewwww

Today, he is clipping his nails at his desk. And no, he's not aiming them at the garbage or any kind of trash recepticle either.

EWWWWWW. I am out of here November 1st. It cannot come quicker.

Rice Krispie Treat with Chocolate Frosting

My best friend, Erika, recently mentioned driving in her car and eating chips or cheetos or fries or something. It was probably hour 7 of our drinking that weekend, so SOR-RY if I don't remember it exactly. BUT, she was saying that she dropped a piece of the snack in the car and couldn't find it. About a week later she found the missing piece - examined it, shrugged her shoulders and ate it. I thought this was the funniest thing ever. Okay, not ever, but it did make me laugh wholeheartedly. I thought to myself "I've never done that, and actually I wouldn't be surprised if I ever did."

Then this morning happened. I opened up my drawer to consume my yummy rice krispie treat with chocolate frosting that I purchased the day before at my company's bake sale. When I went to unwrap said krispie, part of the napkin stuck to it. I vehemently tried to get the darn napkin off, but Jesus Christ, it was a rice krispie treat - VERY STICKY.

So I just ate through it. Not too much of a different taste actually. Now I am happy.

Oh yeah, my other best friend, Mindy, got kicked out of the Crocodile Cafe last night. Did you know they have bouncers - WITH T-SHIRTS! I was amazed. But I got a free CD from The Lights. I think they felt sorry for me.

Happy Friday Everyone!

I got walked over

Saturday was Matt & Kynan’s 30th birthday. We celebrated at Lake Sammamish Park where, apparently, registered parties may legally consume alcohol. I played badminton, I played croquet, I ate two hamburgers and I drank beer. Oh yes, did I drink beer.

As dusk fell, we gathered the picnic together and four of us (Matt, Erika, Chris and myself), all headed over the luxurious Motel 6 just right across the street. Earlier in the day, my brother Bert fatefully put an idea in my head.

The Joker. No, not Bert, but the bar, The Joker. This beautiful strip mall bar is located in the heart of Issaquah, just a short 1.75 mile jaunt from our accommodations that evening. Since it was Matt’s birthday and we were already staying in a hotel, I thought it would be a GREAT idea to take a walk down the street and join the locals. As we arrived, it was your typical suburb bar scene – pull tabs and neon everywhere. In those places, I always have the overwhelming feeling that I’m in the fast food restaurant of bars, where it’s hard to escape the abundance of plastic cups and plastic furniture. But enough of The Joker – I drank beer, I spilled beer, I decided to talk to random people – nothing new there.

On the way home, well, that’s a different story. You all know that a typical night of drinking with Erin involves her falling over in some way or another. This night was no different from that fact, except for the reaction I received.

For some reason, along the way I became fascinated by an orange construction sign on the side of the road. I think I attempted to side-kick it, or maybe I just looked at it. Either way, I fell over. As everyone laughed at me and Chris pulled me up, an Issaquah Law Enforcement Car pulled up as well. The female officer got out of the car. We all stopped in amazement.

She took one look at me and said:

“Have you had anything to drink tonight, Miss?”

I just had to be perfectly honest with the woman, so, with a smile on my face, I responded:

“Quite a bit”

I don’t remember if anyone laughed. But she sure as hell didn’t. She asked for our IDs. I couldn’t get mine out of my wallet. She pulled it out easily with a little smirk and the comment of “well I’m the sober one.” No shit, Sherlock. I can’t even get it out of there when I’m sober, lady.

Another cop pulls up. The boys laugh. Erika and I wave.

The female officer asks us the typical questions. Why are you in Issaquah. A party at the park. Where were you coming from? The Joker Pub Where are you going? We rented a room at the Motel 6 down the street.

She was absolutely bewildered by the fact that four people were drunk and responsible. It was great. After her astonishment subsided she looked over at her colleague, shrugged and said to me, “try not to fall in the street anymore.”

And that was that. I got walked over. Somehow, I’m always in trouble with the damn law.

Yeah, I still got it

Last night, when I was walking home from the bus, I passed another stop with a older man waiting patiently.

As I walked by he said "Have you seen this bus go by?"

I told him "no" since I was on a bus myself moments earlier, but informed him that that particular bus was usually about ten minutes late at night. Since I'm way too nice and when someone starts talking I usually have a hard time walking away, I ended up chatting with him for the next 5-7 minutes.

Our conversation then went something like this:

Him: So do you like living in the CD? I grew up here on 17th and Yesler.

Me: Yes, my husband and I are loving it. We just bought our first house.

Him: Are you renting?

Me: No, we just bought a house.

Him: What do think of the prices at the Red Apple?

M: The prices are fine, but the selection is horrible. I usually go to the Safeway on 23rd.

H: What about the chicken there? Is the chicken any good?

M: Not sure, but if I want good chicken I just go down the street to Ezelle's.

H: EZELLE'S! That place is great. I have a coupon for it. But it's a coupon for the one in Everett. I don't understand why the gave me a coupon for the one in Everett.

M: Probably because they want you to give them business up there. To make both locations successful.

H: But it's the Ezelle's in Everett. What about the one down the street?

M: I would assume they already have enough customers at the one down the street - that's why they offer the coupon for Everett (I just learned about promotions in my class earlier that evening).

H: Oh. Hm. Do you like Jones's BBQ?

M: Yeah, I love it. The one on MLK? Did you know they have on Lander now?

H: Yeah and another one in Issaquah. What do get when you eat there?

M: I don't know, usually the brisket

H: Me too, I love me the beef brisket. I get like 2lbs while I'm there

I'm trying to politely walk away at this point

M: Okay, well have a good night

H: Do you want to go get some Jones's BBQ with me sometime? I have a coupon for there too.

OKAY RANDOM - I need to stop being so nice.

I SO TOTALLY still have it. So what if I get hit on by an old man at the bus stop wanting to spend big money on me at the Jones's BBQ. I bet he'd let me ride in style too - on the bus, of course.

my colleague - ewwwww

Okay, yes, most have you have heard me complain about my horrible co-worker, Lowell (his name has been changed for this blog, but most of you know who I'm talking about). I can't stand him, I have come to believe that he is my arch-nemesis.

Two years ago, I was once sitting in a cubicle directly adjacent to his, with a wall to separate our space (so he missed out on all my pretending-to-puke-with-my-finger-in-my-mouth-faces every time he spoke). I ended up moving across our part of the office to get away from the weird noises he always made. Please remember, that I could never see him, so I would only hear him. Thinking about this and even writing about this will surely give me nightmares tonight.

Weird noise #1: The "yawn"

He constantly yawns. Which normally wouldn't bother me since I am human and understand it's something we all do. But he somehow finds a way to gross me out and annoy me by yawning. So EVERYTIME he yawns, he sticks his arms all the way in the air, exaggerating an arched back and lets out this moan. And it's not a normal yawn sound, it's a moan. A short moan. If you're thinking a creepy, sexual, short moan - then you're right. And I have to listen to that multiple times a day coming out of a guy who looks like an evil elf.

Weird sound #2: The sigh

Lowell is a kiss-ass. He LOVES to kiss the ass of the head of the company and the management team. His main duty in his "Creative Director" position is creating Powerpoints (easy powepoints too - nothing fancy, a monkey wouldn't find it challenging) During the process of coordinating information for those few powerpoints, Lowell runs (literally - he's a heavy man too) back and forth from his desk to the CEO's office. THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP Every time he gets back from one of his runs, he sits down and at his desk and does this "okay-sigh", which unfortunately, sounds extremely similar to the "yawn" mentioned earlier. This happens multiple times a day as well.

Weird sound #3: The clicking noise
A couple weeks ago, I heard a weird clicking noise coming from Lowell's cube. Regarding it as some project he was working on, I went on with my day and ignored it. A couple days later, I was walking by his cubicle to find out with the clicking noise actually was.

He was flossing his teeth.

At his desk.

So, think about it. If the clicking noise was loud enough for me to hear on the other side of room, that means he had to be doing it so aggressively that there was crap from his teeth flying everywhere.

In his cubicle.

Everywhere on his desk.

EEEEWWWWWWW.

I always felt sorry for Jim on "The Office" for having to deal with Dwight. But then I realized I, in fact, have my own Dwight.

I need a new job, people.

My car smells like crayons

Last week, Chris and I traded in the "soccer-mom-mobile" for a sensible sedan. I love it, Chris loves it - except for one thing.

We didn't notice it when we took it for a test drive, but only on the way home did we place the strangely reminiscent smell. Our favorite childhood tool for wall graphiti: the crayon. After we realized what it was, the smell became extremely overwhelming for the two of us.

Fuck, it smells so much like crayon.

After telling a friend about this at work, my intern says:
"My friend's Passatt smells like crayon. He's had it for a couple years and has never gotten rid of the smell"

DAMMIT. Wait - did I tell her we have a Jetta? Is this some weird, strange coincidence? Turns out, I didn't tell her we had a Volkswagen and it sounds like our car is doomed.
Determined to find a way to get rid of the smell, I decided to start big. Fuck those damn smelly trees, I went for the big guns.

Another friend from work told me about this uppity French store in Pacific Place that carried these things called "perfume blocks." For $14 you get four, approximately 1 inch square blocks of perfume, which will give off enough lovely scent to fill an entire 1500 square foot room.
According to my friend and the saleslady, I should split one (ONE) of these cubes in half and put it in the car. It will give off more than enough scent and might even be overwhelming, so DEFINTELY keep it away from the heat.

Right when I get into the car I open the package. It smelled wonderful, like a rainforest in the summer (*?*). Since the crayon smell is so strong in the car, I decide that instead of splitting one cube in half, I'll put out an entire cube. On the way home, I have no idea if I smell the cube itself or the perfume on my fingers. Either way, I pat myself on the back for overcoming the crayon. I get back to the house and park the car, full of excitement from when I'll get into a fresh, beautiful-smelling car the next day.

The next morning, I open the car door and get in.

I smell crayon. Fuck, it smells so much like crayon. FUUUUUCCCCKKK.
Over the next few days, I gradually add a cube to the original one I unwrapped and each day I'm greeted with that damn crayon smell. All four of the cubes have now been unwrapped and placed in the middle console of the car, underneath the heater.

I still smell crayon. These perfume fuckers were supposed to fill 1500 SQUARE FEET. That's bigger than our town home.

Oh well. Anybody wanna go to Chucky Cheese?

Five-Year-Olds, Who needs 'em?

Today I went to grab some lunch from Larry's supermarket. As I was walking through the parking lot, I noticed a young girl (around five-years-old) standing outside the sliding doors. This didn't really strike me as weird until I realized that she was:

a)standing right below the sensor for the doors to open
b)the doors weren't opening

The poor girl was trying to pry the damn doors open, screaming and crying hysterically. Somehow, the sensors were malfunctioning or she wasn't big enough to set them off. Finally, after she moved around a little bit, the doors opened and she ran inside to her mother.

I probably wouldn't have found that so funny if it didn't spark a distant memory for me. When I was around the same age, I was at the grocery store with my babysitter and all the other little rugrats she was watching. I remember my brother running outside and went to chase after him. As I was running through the doors, they actually shut directly on me. It didn't hurt, but it sure did scare the living shit out of me. Like the little girl today, I screamed and cried hysterically until the doors opened back up (which I remember as taking forever, but in reality, it was probably only a second or two). Surprisingly, no one I was with saw this occurence and therefore never believed me. Until today, I actually thought that maybe it was some weird dream I had as a child and I've just pawned it off as a memory. But now I know that I'm not alone.

I wonder if that little girl from today will remember her sliding door fiasco twenty years from now.