Answers That Aren't 42 And Also A Thing About My Birthday

MIXED NEWS, EVERYONE! I have finished and turned in both of my papers (yay!) which I am pretty sure are both complete garbage (boo). But I'm back for now and I'm going to write some blog posts, starting with answering the questions you guys left for me in the comments:

exoticchemist said...

I'm curious as to what exactly triggers you to feel homesick. Is it just randomly wishing you were back in the US? Missing family and friends? Or is it specifically the differences between the US and UK? Maybe this is a dumb question...

It's not a dumb question, but it is a hard one to articulate. For one thing, I am now having a completely different cultural experience from the rest of my countrymen. While I don't miss snow (AT ALL), and I certainly don't want to be living in temperatures that can kill you in minutes, the whole polar vortex episode was hard on me because I felt...I don't know, left out. I still like to imagine that I am from Chicago and Chicago is my home and everyone at home was having this shitty but nevertheless collective experience and I wasn't there. And what made it worse was the UK was having a different collective experience with seriously damaging flooding seemingly everywhere, which is the experience I had, but it was the wrong one. And by the way, I'm crying right now. Sure I miss my family and my friends, but I can talk to them because the internet is magic. What I can't do is go back in time to when everyone was at the terrifying weather party and show up this time and be in on the jokes and know the stories.

Maya's comment was spot fucking on, and I really just wanted to post it and write "THIS ------>" next to it, but I'll elaborate instead. Maya said this: " I think, for me anyway, it was the fact that most things in the UK are so similar to North America that the differences, even the little ones, felt like a personal affront." I would say especially the little ones; the kind of things you never notice until they are different. In America, almost invariably, when you go inside a public building you just walk into it without breaking stride because the door is going to shut behind you. But in England where many of the buildings are older than my country, you walk into the building and you have to remember to shut the door behind you or it will just swing in the wind until the person at the desk gets up and closes it while glaring at you. There are no screens in the windows because there aren't that many bugs; you go shopping several times a week because the bread and the vegetables haven't been engineered to last for 2 months; the toilet doesn't flush the same way. I cannot fucking find wax paper at the store - grease proof baking paper is the closest thing. I know these things all sound dumb and petty because they are, but they add up into this sick feeling that this is not your home, no matter how much you want it to be.

Ok, that was sad. Let's do a different one:

Anonymous said...

44 degrees celcius here in Australia today, nature is bi-polar (and yeah that whole global warming thing). my question - did you ever choose a stripper name? or did I miss the big reveal in one of your posts?

Well anonymous, I'm pretty sure all of North America hates you right now, despite the fact that if it were 44 degrees there (111 F) they would be complaining that it was too hot. I did choose a stripper name and I did write a (half-assed) post about it. For the show I went with Phoebe Moon because I am a nerd. Now that I am in the UK however, I'll be using Poppy Cox because it's better and people get that joke here.

S said...

What have you learned about Brits/Britain by living here that you didn't learn by visiting?

Many many things, actually. I've learned that the words "noodle" and "pasta" are in no way interchangeable. In related news, I've learned that I'll need to bring a shit ton of Ramen back with me when I visit the states because the equivalents here are yucky in comparison. I've learned that people will fall over laughing if you pronounce squirrel as "skwerl". I've learned that driving students aren't allowed on the motorway, which means that when people get their first driving license, they have not learned to drive on one, which seems kind of dumb. Just last week I learned that when I say "look at those cans" no one realizes I'm talking about boobs. I've learned what stollen is, and that I hate it (raisins. why must everybody ruin perfectly good bakery with raisins? Knock it off already). I've learned that Christmas tree skirts aren't a thing here. I've learned that StereoNinja can't say prosciutto correctly. One thing that I already knew, but can't seem to get used to is being greeted with the phrase "You all right?". The American equivalent would be "How are you?". "You all right?" is what you would ask if someone just fell down the stairs or slipped on some black ice and landed on their head or just was walking around looking all sad. So whenever I'm asked that I immediately am confused about why they think I might not be all right. Gets me every time.

Thank you all for your questions. I like answering questions, so send more if you like and ask about whatever you want: stuff about me or why do Americans do that weird thing or where can I buy dildos or what is it about Patrick Stewart that makes him so sexy or Chris Christie, seriously, wtf is with that guy - whatever you want.

I'm not going to do a birthday wrap up post because it was overshadowed by paper writing and homesickness, but I did want to mention that StereoNinja bought me a telescope. HE BOUGHT ME A TELESCOPE. A FUCKING TELESCOPE. This feeling that I'm feeling is I think what it would be like for a normal person if their partner bought them a surprise Ferrari or a diamond as big as their hand. I HAVE A TELESCOPE YOU GUYS, and I live somewhere that I can actually use it. If it ever stops being shitty weather, that is.

Having A Social Life Makes It Really Hard To Blog Sometimes

I was told this morning by StereoNinja that I am being a shitty blogger in 2012 so far. Which I know, but see, there's this thing where I'm busy at my job and travelling and other excuses both legit and complete and utter bullshit. One of them is that I went on an epic trip to Austin last weekend. And I really want to tell you all about it, but chronologically it doesn't make sense if I skip over all of December and my birthday. Also, personally it doesn't make sense either. I have never skipped December or my birthday, they are my favorite things. So herein I will attempt to briefly recap the last month and a half so that in the next post I can describe the most epic reunion of my entire life. Cool? Cool.

A Brief Recap of What Amberance Has Been Up To Since Early December, Minus The Parts That Are None of Your Business and You Don't Want to Know About Anyway (Trust Me)

• On December 10th, as advertised, I walked onto a stage at Martyr's with 16 other women and took off all my clothes in front of hundreds of strangers and it. was. AWESOME. Despite it being oddly disconcerting to be walking around in a bar all night in a nightie and a robe while everyone else around me was dressed, but whatever. The show on the whole was excellent. The girls graduating were amazingly talented and creative and their acts included a girl who stripped to the Imperial March as Darth Vader and left the mask on the entire time, two girls who did a number together to Bon Jovi's "Dead or Alive" in which one of them was the cowboy and the other one was her horse, and a girl who according to Michelle L'Amour said that she wanted to do a number in which "I do all of the things you always tell us we should never do", and so did a completely disinterested strip tease dressed in a ratty house coat with her hair a complete mess and a cigarette dangling out of her mouth, then finished with taking her bra off to reveal another flesh colored bra underneath to which she had sewn baggy tits that hung down to her knees and when she couldn't get the nipple tassels to twirl she just picked them up in her hand with a shrug and juggled them. It was the most hilarious strip tease I have ever seen.
• The bartender bought me an auto hammer for Christmas and I was filled with joy. I am a tool for tools. And puns.
• The next day I flew to Cleveland for two days because something is seriously wrong with me. I packed a backpack for the trip. My brother had also come to town, for four days, and had brought three huge suitcases and a garment bag, prompting me to ask my dad if it was weird for him that his son is his daughter and his daughter is his son (I did, after all, get an auto hammer for Christmas).
• I saw my brother again the following weekend when he came to town for the annual New Year's Eve party thrown by some friends of ours. My loving brother greeted me with a loud "Fuck you," when I walked in, due to my having worn an amazing tank top with chains and tiny handcuffs for straps that everybody but him loved, including all the women who were pregnant which was ALL OF THEM.
• The following week we had our work holiday party, to which I took the gorilla after giving me his word that he would behave himself. I shouldn't have worried, he was absolutely fine. It was me and my coworkers who were out of control, but it wasn't our fault - someone had brought a Shake Weight to the gift exchange which we were inappropriate about, and then we were under the minimum for the contract we'd signed, so the obvious thing to do was to order lots more booze which led to me teaching everyone how to twirl nipple tassels and shouting "It's PHYSICS" at everyone who tried to object.
• The following Monday I flew to Portland and didn't even try to kill my boss once!
• Which leads us to my Amber's Super Ultra Fantabulous Birthtacular Celebration Extravaganza: Now With MORE KELLY! weekend. This did not start out well. El Nino or whatever the hell the weather is doing had kept things pleasantly warm and dry in Chicago this winter, right up until the night of my birthday when it decided to drop 8 inches of snow on us overnight. This meant that only Charlie and Mrs. Sizemore showed up to my party at Tai's and got to see my Epic Cake which depicted me in not a whole lot of clothing.

  

  So hot it is literally on fire.

  This gave me the opportunity, after we had partially eaten it, to yell "WHO IS GOING TO EAT MY CROTCH?" at some innocent strangers for a totally legitimate reason. Earlier in the day, I had taken my pink princess wand to work with me in order to command people to do my bidding, such as wear hats and sing to me, and had ended up using it help my co-worker figure out what NOT to get his wife for her birthday by waving it at him after every suggestion and saying "No, that's stupid." Because of this, I decided to name it the Wand of Truth and then brought it to the bar and had a duel with the bartender and his magic wand because his Schwartz was as big as mine. The next day, Kelly and Mike showed up and we spent the weekend playing Pulse on our respective iPads and eating/drinking our faces off. Kelly ate some caterpillars. Lots more awesome things happened, but that is the thing that stands out - Kelly eating her way through a plate of caterpillars at Sticky Rice.

So that about brings us up to speed, and though I've missed some major things out (see bolded header), I feel better about blogging the Epic Austin Trip. Which I will do shortly to avoid further admonishments from StereoNinja. You don't want to piss off a ninja*.

*he is not a real ninja**.
*OR IS HE?

You Can't Get There From Here

When I woke up yesterday, the 18th of April, and I looked out the window and saw that it had snowed two inches in the early morning hours of April the 18th, and my sleep fogged brain realized that it was snowing, and it was April, I have to say I was pretty fucking pissed off. I stomped off to work and spent the day complaining about the fact that it was cold, and it was snowing, and it was April. Even so, I was relatively certain that it would be the worst morning of my week, what with the snowing and the April, and on the whole I think I took it in stride.

I spent a lot of time thinking wistfully about yesterday morning during the two and a half hour clusterfuck that served as my commute this morning.

It started out well enough. I timed the leaving of my house in a such a way that I would largely miss the rain on my 1/2 mile walk to the train, thereby allowing me to leave my umbrella at home and saving me from having to buy yet another umbrella since I almost invariably forget I have one with me and leave it on the train. A train pulled into the station in due course, and I stepped onto it and found a seat, which is always a bit of a victory. I finished the sudoku while we traveled a few stops. In between Paulina and Southport we stood on the tracks for an unusually long amount of time. I finished the crossword puzzle. The conductor told us there was some trouble with a train that had "broken" ahead of us and that we would be standing "momentarily". I still wasn't alarmed as this happens frequently and we are usually moving again inside of five minutes. Fifteen minutes later we still hadn't moved.

By now I had read the entire paper (to be fair it's the free morning paper and there's not a whole lot to it once you skip all the celebrity gossip and stories about a new bar that won't be open long enough for you to check it out). The conductor came back on to give us the exact same announcement which seemed superfluous as the situation hadn't changed and no one had gotten on or off the train since the last announcement. After another ten minutes he did make a new announcement: the broken train was fairly well fucked. It would not be going anywhere for a while and neither would we. And further to that, when we did go somewhere, it would be to the Southport stop, where we would need to get off and get onto a shuttle bus which would take us to Fullerton where we could get back on a train having bypassed several miles of track to which they had cut power. We had some time to think about our individual game plans though as we couldn't pull into Southport until the train that was already there was able to get onto the northbound tracks and out of our way. Even at this point I was remaining calm. Sometimes things break and it's nobody's fault and there's little you can do about it but soldier on. I called my office and explained the situation and that I didn't know what time I would be in. Then I remembered I had Peggle on my phone and started playing it.

Eventually we pulled into Southport, where we were told there were shuttle buses waiting for us downstairs to take us to Fullerton. Out on the street I did indeed see two buses and also a man in an orange vest with a clipboard who seemed to be directing things. Everything appeared to be under control. It fucking wasn't. There was firstly a problem of physics and the inability to condense the volume of humans that fit into eight train cars into the space of two buses. There was additionally the problem that trains were continuing to come into the station and drop off their human cargo. For me personally, there was the problem that it was 40 degrees outside and that it had started pissing down ice cold rain and I hadn't brought an umbrella. A very lovely Asian girl with an enormous Cubs umbrella offered me a space beneath it - don't ever try to tell me that Cubs fans are assholes, it simply isn't true. The first batch of buses were full up and left without us. I managed to wedge myself on to one of the second set of buses and we took off in rush hour traffic on a circumlocutory route designed to pick up, per orange vest guy, "as many people as possible" from the other three train stops between the one we were at and the one we were headed for. It was possible for us to fit exactly zero other passengers on our clown car of a bus, and we drove past the other stranded CTA customers feeling a mixture of relief and survivor's guilt.

Upon our eventual arrival at Fullerton, we filed into the station like a horde of spawning salmon and headed, logically we collectively believed, to the southbound platform in order that we might catch a southbound train. After allowing us to stand there for ten minutes in the freezing rain and wind, we were disabused of this ridiculous notion by a man on the loudspeaker who told us in a tone dripping with irritation at our stupidity that it was obvious we needed to catch a southbound train on the northbound tracks. As we headed back down the stairs to get to the other platform the woman next to me summed up the feelings of all of us by saying "I've never wanted to get to work so much in my entire life." Almost immediately after the last of us had reached the northbound platform, a brown line train pulled up to the southbound platform we had just vacated. It was followed in about two minutes time by a red line train pulling up to the southbound platform. Those of us who chose not to run back to the other side like the proverbial chicken stood there dumbfounded for the fifteen minutes it took for a train to pull up to the platform to which we had been directed.

By now I was soaked to the core and shivering, having lost my umbrella buddy in the shuffle, and I stepped on the train with no small measure of relief, pleased as punch to find a seat available and for once not caring that there was a mother holding a screaming infant in the seat just in front of me (I also ignored that she was speaking fucking French). About this time, the same announcer who had chastised us earlier began to tell us in the same exasperated tone as before that we were NOT to go to the northbound platform, that southbound trains must obviously be boarded from the southbound platform. He didn't actually finish with "you fucking idiots" but we all heard it. I was already on a train, and had been informed by the conductor that it was a southbound train to the loop, and also I was sitting and starting to dry - I was not, under any circumstances, getting up to go back where I had been in the first place. I continued to sit there for the half hour it took that train to finally close its doors and pull away towards the oasis of downtown. I finally arrived in the office around 11 a.m. at nearly the same time as the person who had flown in that morning from Boston in less time than it had taken me to commute from Lakeview.

And to think, only yesterday I had woken to the sight of beautiful, pristine, non-public transit interrupting April snow. Sigh...

Everything's Perfectly All Right Now. We're Fine. We're All Fine Here Now, Thank You. How Are You?

Everything's under control. Situation normal. Thanks for asking. In case you somehow managed to not get clobbered over the head by the media last week, Chicago and in a fact a very large swath of the entire country got hammered by a blizzard last Tuesday and Wednesday. I was not one of the poor souls who got trapped in their cars on Lake Shore Drive all night long last Tuesday, mainly because when meteorologists nationwide all say "There is going to be a big fuck off storm, stay inside" and the local meteorologists say "The big fuck off storm is going to be worst near the shoreline of Lake Michigan, don't use Lake Shore Drive", I assume that they probably know more than I do and I STAY INSIDE, far, far away from Lake Shore Drive. Morons.

I woke up Wednesday morning to find that it looked like Hoth outside and a renewed interesting in buying this. Now, I don't attend a lot of sleep overs these days and when I do they rarely involve my having to sleep on the floor because my friends are grown ups with spare bedrooms or at least a couch. But I think we can all agree this sleeping bag should be filed under "Need" rather than under "Want".

I also experienced that most elusive of all storms - thundersnow. I'm sure there's a very good scientific reason why it almost never thunders during a snowstorm and that H-town or the bartender can tell you all about it while you pretend to be paying attention during their nerdgasm (speaking of nerdgams, Chicagoans, was anyone else concerned that Tom Skilling might rip his clothes off from his overwhelming excitement over this severe weather? Because I was happy for him and everything but, seriously, no one needs to see that). All I know is, thunder during a snow storm is awesomely rare and now that I've experienced it I'm merely one tornado away from being ready to die.

The only other severe blizzard I've lived through nearly killed me (and it actually DID kill 70 other people). The Great Blizzard of 1978 barrelled into Cleveland on January 25th of that year. I was two weeks old. My parents were noobs at the whole parenting thing, what with me being their first child and all, and they were totally unprepared for the apocalypse that completely buried every door to the house. They were trapped. Then they ran out of baby formula for me. Big thanks to the Middleburg Heights police department for answering my parents' call for help by going to the store, buying me formula, and then digging a tunnel to our front door in order to deliver said formula (which they refused to let my parents pay for, bless) and keep me from starving to death. When I told that story to the CEO he said "Oh, so THAT'S what's wrong with you." It's one of the things.

Snow Blows

Me: i hate this time of year, i really really do. why isn't it christmas?

Fish: Because it's august, duh. Why would they do christmas in august?

Me: because why not? i bet JoE would go to a christmas party in august

Fish: Nope. No snow. Snow is the holiday lubricant

Me: I thought booze was the holiday lubricant

Fish. No, snow is the lubricant that helps us slide into the moist crevasse of Christmas

Me: you're writing christmas porn

Fish: Or I'm just making holiday innuendos

Me: either way i disagree. snow is the lone drawback to the holiday season. it is cold and wet and makes me fall down

(it is in cahoots with alcohol)

Fish: I have no idea how you love Xmas and hate snow

Maybe you should move to the southern hemisphere

Me: oh, it's ok as long as i never have to go outside. but short of having groceries delivered and door to door laundry service, snow is just in my way and ruining my pants

My Tonton Will Die Before I Reach the First Marker

"You're going to have a rough commute today," announced the bartender this morning. I blew this off and attempted to roll over and go back to sleep. (It turns out I couldn't move, because Kristen was sitting on top of me like a conquering explorer with a look on her face like she was going to yell "I claim this mountain for the United States!" and plant a flag in my hip.) It had snowed all night overnight and was still snowing. I wasn't concerned. After all, I take the train to work like a sane person so how bad could it be? It is this kind of thinking that causes one to fail at life.

In fact, it could be very bad. My four block walk to the train took me 20 minutes. This is because there was a foot of snow on the ground and it was too early for anyone to have shoveled. Also when I got to the train I was exhausted and sweating from the effort. I figure, who needs an exercise plan when you can just walk in feet of snow with a backpack? I reasoned that if I had to do this every day I'd be as skinny as Twiggy. Except for my thighs which would be more like Barbaro (pre glue factory).

I hate snow.

We're Getting Six Inches of Snow Today

The owner called from Hawaii because he's shitty like that.

Me: What's up dude?
Owner: I'm a little chilly. It's only 83 degrees.
Me: I hate you.
Owner: I love you, I just want to punch you in the face most of the time.
Me: Whatever, you know it's negative degrees here today right?
Owner: Yep, and I'm here on the beach with my tropical lemonade.
Me: You know, you call and harass me every time you go to Hawaii.
Owner: I know. That's because you're the only one who's still dumb enough to answer the phone.

He texted me later:

Owner: Don't u hate when u get too much sand on your feet? It's uncomfortable.
Me: I hope a shark bites your kneecap.
Owner: Oh nice! I hope spiders attack you in your sleep!
Me: I feel your love from here!
Owner: Hopefully that's the spiders you feel.

Panic Sets In

It is snowing outside. SNOWING. And, as if to mock me, the sun is shining.

I am not ready for this. For one thing, I have no gloves. But it's mostly psychological. The leaves haven't even finished turning yet. I haven't gone on a fall walk anywhere. We're still playing baseball for Pete's sake. It's just too soon. I need more time to prepare.

Snowing. Ugh.

Hostage Situation

I was a prisoner in my own home this weekend. Friday I left work early, went home, drank a fifth of Nyquil (ok, it was the recommended dose - I just like to pretend I'm badass) and fell asleep on my couch watching Star Trek: Enterprise. On Saturday, I woke up feeling like a train hit me. Another shot of Nyquil and a treat (maybe 3 treats) for Kristen then immediately back to bed. At 2 pm, more because of an irrational fear of getting bed sores than anything else, I finally rousted myself from my bedchamber and looked outside. Apparently while I had been channeling Rip Van Winkle, God had decided it would be funny to first drop another foot of snow on Ohio, and then swirl it all around, culminating in a giant 3 foot snow drift covering half my driveway. Seriously, snow up to Alistair's door handles. In addition to my aching mucus-riddled head, I suddenly realized I was experiencing another sensation: Hunger. This was likely due to my having consumed nothing but Nyquil and water for the better part of two days.

I checked the fridge: onions, one Corona (been in there for 5 months - also no lime), expired apple cider, assorted condiments. Hmm. It seems I haven't gone grocery shopping in a while. I tried the cabinet: a can of stewed tomatoes, cheesecake flavored pudding mix, half a jar of Jif, olive oil, teabags, two packets of Changin'-Cherry Kool-Aid mix (the package reads "Watch the Green mix change into a Blue liquid. Surprise! It tastes like juicy Red cherry!" I think to myself :OH YEEAAHH! and crash through a brick wall, figuratively of course). OK. First of all, I can't believe I don't have any friggin pasta in my house. I ALWAYS have pasta; I'm Italian for fuck's sake. I can always count on pasta in an emergency. Not so much today. There is no way I am going to be able to shovel myself out of the driveway and get to the grocery store in my current condition. I'm woozy just from standing up for 10 minutes. I sigh, make a cup of tea, grab the Jif and a spoon and settle in on the couch.

I proceed to spend the next umpteen hours watching "I Love the 90's: Part Deux" on VH1. If you haven't seen it yet, check it out. It's worth it just for "Ben Stein's Pimpin'-est Tracks". Also for Hal Sparks' speculation that "More Than Words" by Extreme is not so much a love song as it is a euphemism for "Shut up and give me a blow job". Hal Sparks - what a card. I laughed out loud, and then said "Ow." When I finally couldn't take any more of that I put the Jif away and went to bed.

On Sunday I woke up feeling exactly the same, except now my lungs also hurt. I glanced out the window hoping that the snow had been miraculously swept away, but it hadn't. I really wanted to do two things: go to the doctor and buy groceries so I'd have something to eat. To do that I needed to get my car out of the driveway. To do that, I'd have to shovel. I put 27 pairs of pants on, my heaviest coat, my mittens (I wear mittens like a little kid - they're warm and I think it's funny when people say "What the hell are you wearing? Mittens?"), a hat, and my yard-work shoes and headed out to the driveway. I managed to shovel about a quarter of it before my disease-weakened frame gave out. I was not going anywhere. Defeated I trudged back into the house. Nyquil followed, and then football. Halfway through the NFC game I suddenly recalled that it was possible to actually have pizza delivered to the house. It just hadn't occurred to me before. So I called Pizza Hut and they brought me the first solid food I'd had in days. Smurfiest pizza I'd ever tasted.

I guess it wasn't so terrible. Kristen was pleased that I stayed home with her for two entire days, my inability to leave gave me a chance to watch both football games in their entirety, and I'd had the forethought to buy the Cherry Nyquil instead of that ass-flavored stuff, so I wasn't gagging on that all weekend. But in the future I will definitely make sure I have staple foods in the house at all times. And a backup plan for having some poor sap come over and shovel for me. Because you never know.

Mother Nature Sucks My Ass

At 7:00 am this morning my phone rang. Normally, if my phone rings at 7:00 am, it's my bartender, calling to tell me bar stories from the night before, or to bitch about what a cunt his roommate's girlfriend is (she really is). Today it was Bia, wanting to know if I was going to work.

For those of you who are not living in this part of the country, let me give you some background. It's been snowing like a mother fucker for over 24 hours. Actually, it snowed, then it rained, then it freezing-rained, then it snowed again, and it is still snowing. There is about 16 inches of snow on the ground, as well as standing water everywhere from the rain last night. I dug my truck out of the driveway this morning while standing in snow more than halfway up to my knees. It's wet sticky snowball makin' snow, and it's heavy. I nearly had a heart attack trying to scrape the stuff off my windows.

Bia wanted to know if I was going to work because she was worried about the Cherub. The Cherub didn't have anyone to back her up on phones today, and Bia was going to do it. However the roads where Bia lives are impassable and there was no way she was going to make it here, so since I live in the city and have 4 wheel drive she called to make sure I was going.

I had considered not going. The freezing-rain woke me up at 3 am and I looked out my window and said "Fucking A." Then I, erm, rocked myself back to sleep. When my alarm went off I looked out and saw that it was even worse than when I looked at 3, and the roads hadn't been plowed AT ALL (This was not a surprise. Cleveland never plows my neighborhood, or anyone else's for that matter. It sucks here, hence why I'm leaving). Today is only a half day at the office anyway, our company's little gift to us to kick start our holiday weekend. We close up shop at noon. It's even listed on the corporate calendar. I thought "Fuck the half day, fuck changing the back up tapes in the server room, fuck everything. I'm staying in bed with my cat." She was adorably sleeping on my head at the time. But then Bia called to see if I would go. And I felt bad for the Cherub, so I went.

Holy freakin shit! I have never, ever seen anything like that in my life. Dumbasses were out in cars, CARS! careening around like bumper boats in a hurricane. Visibility was...well, invisible basically. I myself felt like I was off-roading the way my big honking truck was handling in that miserable slush. And I'm out driving in it with my heart in my throat because even though I have 4 wheel drive, most other people don't, and I know one of them is going to spin right into me and kill us both. I'm not ready to die, I just got my life back for crying out loud! And I'm pissed off that no one has called from the office to say "We love you. Please don't go out and kill yourself for a half-day. Stay home and watch porn instead."

Next, Mary hits me up on the TM.

Mary cell: U R not going in R U?????
Me: Have to. Bia is not going, [Cherub] needs help on phones. Bad out. Don't go.
Mary cell: WHAT??? R U fucking kidding me? Why is the office even open?
Me: Who knows?
Mary cell: Call when you get there.

When I get here, the Cherub is sitting all cute and cherubic at the front desk. "Did Bia call you?" I asked.

"Yes. Thanks! I was the only one here until about 10 minutes ago, when [Captain Morgan] came in."

"Wow. I think it's going to be just us today. That will be fun."

WRONG. Twenty minutes later the CEO shows up. I think I've mentioned before, but I'll say it again anyway, the CEO's head is so far up his own ass he can see his lungs. "You made it!" I said to him. "Are you still alive?"

"Piece of cake," he said, grinning stupidly. The CEO truly believes he is the best at everything. Even driving his crudded up Lexus in the snow. "Seriously though, it's getting bad outside. [Cherub], why don't you stay til about 2, to answer the phone, and the rest of us, let's all go home at noon." And with that he walked away, whistling obliviously.

The Cherub stood there shocked. "He's kidding right? He has to be kidding. He's not going to make me stay here is he?" I was too dumbfounded to answer her. I mean, the guy is stupid, but his name is on the fucking door, you'd think he'd be know when his own office is closed. Fortunately for our stunned selves, Captain Morgan overheard this surreal exchange and informed the CEO that we were ALREADY closing the office at noon, as per the corporate calendar, and there was no reason for the Cherub to stay.

Someday I'm going to figure out how a guy that disconnected from any events transpiring around him got to be so successful. In the meantime, as it's nearly 12, I'm going to pack up my shit and go the hell home before I get snowed in here for the holidays.

P.S. With not being at work I'm not sure when if I'll get a chance to blog over the weekend. But you all should be spending time with your families anyway, so go be merry and I'll be back on Monday. Peace, love, and lots of Christmas gifts for you all. And Happy Birthday to my cat Kristen and my bartender Jeff, both Christmas Eve babies, and both a joy to be around. I'm out like the fat kid in dodgeball.

Why I Hate Snow

It started snowing this weekend, like for real snow that sticks, not the scattered flurries we'd had so far this year. I woke up on Saturday and looked out and there it was, staring back at me with frosty gloom.

I hate snow. It's been out to get me since I was born. Seriously. I was born in January of 1978, and if you're older than me, you may remember that winter also being referred to as the Blizzard of '78. So here's me, little baby Amber, cooing and being all cute (except for my big floppy dumbo ears), and along comes Mother Nature and drops about 3 feet of the white shit all over my parents' house and snows them in. And of course being new parents and not realizing that they should be prepared for Armageddon at all times, they run out of formula. And suddenly I'm not so cute anymore because I am starving. Lucky for starving baby Amber, my parents are pretty intelligent people, so they called the police. The police drove to the store, bought me some baby formula, beat a path to my parents door and I was saved. Incidentally, they also refused to accept any money from my parents for the formula, which was nice. But that was only the beginning.

Flash forward. A little girls sits in the living room. Her blonde hair is pulled up in pigtails, showing off her cute smile and dumbo ears. Streamers and balloons are hung gaily throughout the room. A cake shaped like a pair of ballet slippers is on display in the dining room. The little girl looks out the window at...nothing, because she can't see through the friggin white out. The party was supposed to start half an hour ago, and no one is there yet. The phone rings. Mom answers it and speaks for a while. No sooner does she hang up then the phone rings again. And again. Eventually, my mom comes into the room. "Sweetie, that storm outside is really bad, and, uh, well honey, no one is coming." So snow has fucked me again.

When I got out of college, I was at one of the lowest points in my life. I had just broken off an engagement (later to become a theme of mine), and I didn't have a job. I was pretty depressed. One day my parents went out somewhere, and I thought I'd try to do something nice for them by shoveling the driveway while they were gone. So I put on about 6 pairs of pants, my coat, my gloves and a big hat to cover my dumbo ears and went outside to be a good daughter. Oh, did I mention how fat I got in college? I was a tub of lard from my daily regimen of sitting on my ass and eating pizza. Ask Heather, she was there. Can you guess what happened next? That's right. I shoveled about 6 square feet of driveway and collapsed from exhaustion. And in my fragile mental state, I cracked. I sat down right in the middle of the driveway, sobbing, because I was SO PATHETIC I couldn't even SHOVEL THE FUCKING DRIVEWAY. Who was ever going to hire me? Or marry me? I was doomed, destined to live with my parents for the rest of my life, at least until they died, when hopefully I could find a nice cardboard box to live in so I wouldn't have to sleep out in the fucking snow.

So today, Mary and I went to Suzy's for some yummy tomato tortellini soup. As soon as we hit the doors we were nearly knocked over from the blast of horizontally traveling snow that was whipped at us. "HOLY FUCK!" I shrieked. "IT'S GOING RIGHT IN MY MOUTH!" Mary was laughing too hard to tell me that I could stop that by shutting my stupid mouth. We continued on, getting pelted by freezing white schrapnel. "AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH! MOTHER FUCKER!" I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

"Amber, shut up, people are looking at us!"

"I DON'T CARE! SON OF A BITCH! THIS SUUUUCCKS!" A guy walking in the other direction started chuckling, sympathetically I'm sure. "I HATE THIS! AAAAAAGGGGHHHH!" A woman turned around and gave me a dirty look. I covered up my dumbo ears with my hands in an attempt to prevent them from flying right off. "AAAAGGGGHHHH! FUUUUCK!"

"Amber," Mary pointed out, "it's the first time it's really snowed. It's going to get worse before it gets better. You'd better get used to it."

She's right. Man, I hate snow.