Today Has Been a Snot-sicle Type of Monday.

I couldn’t warm up my car this morning. It is a manual transmission and the emergency break is broken. Normally, I can just park it on the flat part of the driveway in neutral and hope that it doesn’t decide to go rogue and take out the Catholic school kids walking by. However, due to Christmas free-loaders (just kidding fam) the driveway is full. So, needless to say I froze my toes off and drove for about 10 miles with a sheet of ice on my windshield.

To make matters worse, my office is freezing. I think the CEO weighed the cost of heat against the number of employees who were actually coming in to work today and decided it was a bad investment.Half-expecting 1-2inches of snow in my office, I decided to put on a pair of gloves. It was a cute idea until a client sent me an email. Typing was a tad bit difficult and I was worried that due to lack of finger dexterity one of my emails would turn into something that would be posted on damnyouautocorrect.com.

Trying to not be defeated by post-holiday Monday blues, I remained optimistic that I would find a way to keep my fingers/toes safe from frostbite –which I did. A co-worker is out of the office for the week and gave me the go ahead to use her space heater for the time being.

Happily, I plugged that bad-boy in. This, in turn, tripped the breaker in my office – three times.

The only thing that has been warm today was the paper shredder I just over-heated.

A Little Christmas Present for the Guy That Sits by the Office Door.

You think I would learn growing up how to control my enthusiasm.

Some of the really important stuff I found out the hard way: On Christmas Eve you aren’t allowed to open all of your presents, you shouldn’t cut the bigger kids in line and you can’t tell somebody about their surprise party just because you are so excited about planning it. Blah, Blah, Blah. Ok, I get it.

The one concept I never did seem to grasp though, is not pulling on the door handle before/ during the time when your parents are pushing the unlock button.

To this day, I just can’t seem to help it. I don’t know if I feel like I have to get in the car first or if I am just hyperactive. But more often than not, I am the one standing out in the cold still yanking on the door handle a minute after everyone is already in the car. My dad would be screaming “Stop pulling on the door handle, god damnit.” Of course, in my defense, I would always say that I wasn’t, when really I almost just yanked it off.

Jump to 5 years later.

This morning, because it is in my nature to be over-zealous, I obviously yanked on the door handle while simultaneously swiping my keycard.

Then I walked into the door.

Lesson learned.

Happy Holidays Everyone :-)

Search Engine Thursday is the New Friday...

This morning I woke up and I knew this was going to be the type of the day when I just decked someone for no reason. Like “Hey Sandi, goodmorn...” PUNCH. Some people would call this “Waking up on the wrong side of the bed.” I like to call it “Waking up anywhere other than Athens, Oh.”

Last Thursday when I was driving home from work, I was thinking about the possible origins of the saying “waking up on the wrong side of the bed”- probably because of a grouchy co-worker. So of course I did the only thing that one can do when they have a dire need to find answers – I Googled it:

“This expression alludes to the ancient superstition that it was bad luck to put one's left foot down first.” – This seemed to be the general consensus from all the scholarly Wikipedia articles I checked out.

The feeling of satisfaction that came from conquering yet another Google adventure was short lived. When I looked up from my computer, I noticed my brother (home on winter break from college) texting away to make plans for the night. It hit me.

Shit, it is Thirsty Thursday.

I used to schedule my classes so I wouldn’t have any on Friday specifically for this occasion.

This made me depressed, so I went to bed. ….at 9:00pm.

Whoever wrote Part I of Road Rage today is a moron.....

I am kicking myself for writing that post earlier today. I should really learn to bite my tongue.

Enter, the great snow storm of Cleveland, Ohio (part one of the epic saga that I know will be my life this winter)

1 hour to get to the highway (aka less then a mile)

2 hours to get home.

I blame no one but myself.

And all the idiots on the road tonight. And the snow. And lake Erie. And the stupid snow plows. And my stupid stick shift car which caused a cramp in my leg from having to stop and go so much.

Ok, I blame everyone/everything - but mainly karma.

Road Rage: Dale Earnhardt Jr. is Afraid of a Little Snow

I was pretty excited when this week started because the weather forecast was looking pretty dismal for North East Ohio. I mean really, what better way to be inspired for a Road Rage topic then 10,000 idiots driving to Cleveland in 8 inches of snow? Easy.

Yet much to my dismay, despite plenty of spin-outs, 35 MPH driving and bad roads, the ride has been no worse than any other week. I will take partial responsibility for the success of my commute for being semi-proactive. I did the “adult” thing and listened to the traffic radio in order to avoid the people who grew up in Ohio but who never learned how to handle the weather (thank-you Ohio Turnpike).

However, with the lackluster events of this week’s commutes thus far, one would think I would be content with people on the road. But that is just it – everyone is driving so responsibly. And the more I thought about how good everyone was being, the more it really started to irk me as I crept down 77-N amidst a blizzard.

If it’s 80 degrees and sunny, all the excellent NASCAR drivers out there cut people off, ride people’s bumpers and wait until the last possible second to merge over into the lane they need to be in. Be serious, you knew that the lane was ended a mile ago. Now it is so damn urgent that you get into my lane that you will nearly side swipe me. I am sorry, but the little hand wave just doesn’t cut it. What I really want to do is break your damn hand off so you have to merge early because you will have no hand to wave.

Oh um, anyways, the point being now that it is snowy out people seem way more concerned about totaling their Lexus’s. This morning people were keeping their distance, using their blinker, merging early and driving appropriate speeds. It’s like, would sliding of the road and smashing into someone really be any different if it were not snowing?

I would think that if I were to smash into something, I would at least want to be able to make a snowman while I waited for the police to arrive. That way, maybe I could soften the hearts of the 8,000 people I just made late to work – but that’s just me.

So Dale Earnhardt Jr. of 480W, the cats out of the bag….we all know that you know what the traffic laws are. You just proved it to everyone. Let’s try using them on a regular basis from now on.

I am Told That Easy Bake Ovens are NOT Tanning Beds for Barbies

I think I am starting to worry my family. I can't decide if they think I am a lesbian, a boy or if they are concerned that I am in fact destined to be a spinster. I like to think that a cougar is a more appropriate term for what I may turn into.

When I was young, I am sure they were at least a little bit concerned. It may have been because I cut all of my Barbie's hair off and dipped her head-first into blue dye or because I asked to play pee-wee football. However, my bets are that the major concern came after I burnt my first easy bake oven "cake" and decided that this particular toy was better served for melting action figures. Luckily, at that age they could hope that I would grow out of it.

And I did. I got more into clothes, kept a core group of friends that were girls and had more than enough high school boyfriends to go around.

However, recently I think that tinge of doubt has been re-ignited. As it stands, the running joke in my family is that I tend to be the "extra wheel" in most situations. Dinner with my family includes (but is not limited to): my dad and his girlfriend, my 18-year-old brother and his girlfriend and my sister and her husband - putting me in the position as the designated 7th wheel. I like to think that I broke the record as the 23rd wheel once - just sayin.

Sometimes, I ask my grandma if I can bring one of my friends to dinner to fill my guest’s spot. I feel bad because I think she gets her hopes up thinking this may be it - she is meeting my future husband. Sadly, it usually ends up being one of my good girl friends. After these nights, I think she hints that she will "love me no matter what."

Fueling their worries, I am sure, is that fact that I had only one sort-lived boyfriend in college, who barely survived my cynical outlook on dating. Also, that I like to claim that I don't intend on getting married until I am at least 30, which I sometimes wonder if they think is a way for me to put off coming out. However, what seems to concern people most is that I often whole-heartedly comment on the obvious: "If you have kids, they follow you around for the rest of your life. Like really, you are stuck with them FOREVER” (this is where your sandlot voice comes into play.) I kind of feel bad about that one, but only a little.

I suppose that it is true I tend to be more of a tomboy at times. I can also admit I am a huge critic of the "American Family Tradition." But let me assure you family, I am not a lesbian ...or a boy. However, I still can't promise that I won't use the kitchen stove to melt things.

Facebook Birthdays

Let's face it. I wouldn't remember half your birthdays if it wasn't for Facebook and you wouldn't remember mine. This is fine by me. If my grandma knew how to use Facebook she wouldn't have to spend an hour at the end of the year transferring all of our birthdays over to next year’s calendar. I completely approve of the policy that you can use Facebook to make sure you don't forget to wish your friends Happy Birthday- especially because if I REALLY like you, I will write on your wall and send you a text.

My favorite part of the whole Facebook birthday thing is not that people do it, but the way people post.

For instance, if it is getting closer to MY birthday, we all know I am writing on more peoples walls with the hope that they will too think of me when that special day arrives. Because obviously, the more people who wish me a "Happy Birthday," the more friends I have (which is why I let me notifications build up so I can accurately determine how many friends I have lost/gained as compared to my last birthday)

I am also a personal fan of the "make sure everyone knows you're better friends with/are celebrating with/have been friends longest with" said person in their birthday posts. These people go above and beyond the "Happy Birthday Sandi" shout outs. They are sure to use a nickname "Happy Birthday Sans", a memory "Happy Birthday Sandi, seems like only yesterday we were throwing rocks at Taryn on the playground" or even the "Happy Birthday, can't wait to get you completely fucked up later"..... because clearly none of these other Facebook friends hangout with you. ever.

I think that if you want to know who your "real friends are," change your birthdate on Facebook and then defriend all the people who write on your wall.