I am a horrible texter. Most of my friends know this about me, and most have them have gotten a text from me that says some thing like "pmtmdp gnd", which is the same as "sounds good" without the word function turned on. We laugh, and I vow to try harder to be a better texter. As much as I don't prefer text, I understand the ways of the world and that we are a society of texters. I will conform. It may take me 20 minutes to says "lets meet at 7" via text and only 5 seconds to say it on the phone, but I will conform.
Not everyone is as flexible as I am. Some are absolutely texting averse. So averse that they do not even have text capability on their phones. While I think this is ridiculous, I understand and will respect their wishes. I just think they need to alert the rest of us that they will not be receiving or responding to any texts that we, the general texting population, send.
Why my sudden introspection on texting? Well, I recently sent a text that I expected to get a response to, but I haven't, and it is causing me some concern.
I went out on a blind date a few weeks ago. It was fine. Not spectacular, but not horrible either. He was nice, dinner was good, conversation was okay. He called me on Friday of the next weekend, but I already had plans for both Friday and Saturday. Then, he called me the next week to tell me that he was going to be busy the coming weekend, so he wouldn't be calling. I thought "strange, but considerate". Then he called me last Monday at noon to see if I could go to lunch. I was already at lunch when he called, so lunch wasn't going to work for me. All of this contact was pretty much through messages he left on my voicemail.
I didn't ever actually call him back, but after his last message, I sent him a text that said "I already have plans for lunch, but maybe we could get together some other night this week." He had been fairly persistent, so I thought he would take me up on the offer, but at this point I haven't heard back from him. Kind of strange, right?
I was discussing this with some friends, and when I said that I had texted him, they asked if he had ever texted me. No, he hasn't. All contact he has made has been purely voice communication. I have concluded that he doesn't have text, which leads me to believe that he has concluded that I am a total brat who won't call him back. Now, I don't like people to think that I am a brat, but really it is his fault. If you don't have text capabilities on your phone, first, move into the new century, and second make it a point to alert those you are in contact with. Introduce yourself to people with "Hi, my name is Rob, and I don't get text." Treat it like a support group, like "hi, my name is Nicole, and I'm a shopaholic". This solves two problems-we can adjust our communication habits accordingly, and we can help you overcome such a ridiculous problem.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Potty Talk
There are strange things going on in the restroom at my job. Sounds creepy, right? Well, it is. The firm that I work for shares the floor in our building with a law firm, and an employee at the law firm is a non-hand washer. Gross. And weird. I mean, what adult doesn't wash their hands?
It gets grosser, and weirder. Occasionally, the non-hand washer come into the restroom barefoot. There aren't that many people that use the women's restroom, but still, don't walk into a public restroom barefoot. That is just a foot fungus waiting to happen.
There is a gym in our building that this lady must use because at least once a week, there is a pile of clothes in the handicap stall. She goes in there, changes into her gym clothes, and just leaves her regular clothes on the floor. So that foot fungus caused by her bare feet is slowly spreading to her work clothes.
I just don't understand the non-hand washing. The other things I can overlook, but we are taught from age zero that we always wash our hands. A couple of weeks ago, a girl I work with was in the restroom at the same time as this woman, and the woman actually turned on the water and walked out. No, she didn't wash her hands, she only turned on the water. She didn't even turn the water off. It was almost like she was turning on the water for my coworker, just to make sure she was going to wash her hands.
Can anyone think of any reason to not wash? We even have one of those automatic paper towel dispensers, so it makes it even easier to wash your hands. I cannot think of even one excuse. She is a grown woman, a lawyer, and I will never ever shake her hand.
It gets grosser, and weirder. Occasionally, the non-hand washer come into the restroom barefoot. There aren't that many people that use the women's restroom, but still, don't walk into a public restroom barefoot. That is just a foot fungus waiting to happen.
There is a gym in our building that this lady must use because at least once a week, there is a pile of clothes in the handicap stall. She goes in there, changes into her gym clothes, and just leaves her regular clothes on the floor. So that foot fungus caused by her bare feet is slowly spreading to her work clothes.
I just don't understand the non-hand washing. The other things I can overlook, but we are taught from age zero that we always wash our hands. A couple of weeks ago, a girl I work with was in the restroom at the same time as this woman, and the woman actually turned on the water and walked out. No, she didn't wash her hands, she only turned on the water. She didn't even turn the water off. It was almost like she was turning on the water for my coworker, just to make sure she was going to wash her hands.
Can anyone think of any reason to not wash? We even have one of those automatic paper towel dispensers, so it makes it even easier to wash your hands. I cannot think of even one excuse. She is a grown woman, a lawyer, and I will never ever shake her hand.
Friday, January 23, 2009
You Are My Federer
When I was in high school, Melissa was my Sampras. Pete Sampras and Andre Agassi were the top tennis players in the world, and Pete Sampras could beat anyone. Melissa and I took tennis lessons together, we went to tennis camp together, we played on the tennis team together, we played tennis together all the time. In all the time that we have been playing tennis, I have probably beat Melissa three times. Sometimes I like to say that it is my lack of competitive spirit, but we all know the truth, Melissa is just better than I am. I think it really says something about her that she continues to play with me, but I guess Sampras just kept playing with the lowly underlings. That's how he kept his ranking. Melissa wasn't out for a ranking though, she's just really nice. ( P.S.-happy birthday Melissa. Sorry I haven't called yet.)
Well, Melissa and I haven't played in quite some time (and, on the down low, I think I may be able to take her), but I have been playing with my friend Luke. Where Melissa was my Sampras, Luke is my Federer. He always beats me. Every match starts with me talking some trash about bringing my "A" game or him "going down", but it always ends with me saying "Good game, Eastman".
Tonight, things were going to be different. During warm up, I was doing really well. You know the feeling. Everything you hit is perfect-it clears the net low, it lands deep, the placement is great. I was ready. I was serving first, and I double faulted on the first point. Then, I lost the first game. I didn't give up though, and I fought back to win the first set 7-5. I have never beat Luke in a set. This was awesome!!! A Miracle!!
Set two didn't go so well. All my good tennis had been used up, and I lost 1-6. Pathetic. My spirits were down, but the third set was a little better. I won the first game, but then, even though almost all the games went to deuce or were really close, I lost the third set 2-6.
If Luke really were Federer and we were playing in Wimbledon, John McEnroe would have said that I made a great effort, but Luke is just like no tennis player we have ever seen. It really says something that I could even take one set. I should feel proud that I won even one set against the almighty Luke.
This may sound silly, but really, winning one set is enough to make me happy and keep me talking trash until the next time. In fact, next time I may just be the Nadal to Luke's Federer.
Well, Melissa and I haven't played in quite some time (and, on the down low, I think I may be able to take her), but I have been playing with my friend Luke. Where Melissa was my Sampras, Luke is my Federer. He always beats me. Every match starts with me talking some trash about bringing my "A" game or him "going down", but it always ends with me saying "Good game, Eastman".
Tonight, things were going to be different. During warm up, I was doing really well. You know the feeling. Everything you hit is perfect-it clears the net low, it lands deep, the placement is great. I was ready. I was serving first, and I double faulted on the first point. Then, I lost the first game. I didn't give up though, and I fought back to win the first set 7-5. I have never beat Luke in a set. This was awesome!!! A Miracle!!
Set two didn't go so well. All my good tennis had been used up, and I lost 1-6. Pathetic. My spirits were down, but the third set was a little better. I won the first game, but then, even though almost all the games went to deuce or were really close, I lost the third set 2-6.
If Luke really were Federer and we were playing in Wimbledon, John McEnroe would have said that I made a great effort, but Luke is just like no tennis player we have ever seen. It really says something that I could even take one set. I should feel proud that I won even one set against the almighty Luke.
This may sound silly, but really, winning one set is enough to make me happy and keep me talking trash until the next time. In fact, next time I may just be the Nadal to Luke's Federer.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Blog Problems
I know that I'm not the greatest blogger out there...I don't update that frequently, I never post pictures, and you really won't learn too much about me or my life by reading my blog. When I see things I find interesting or something happens to me that I think is funny, it frequently results in a blog post.
Recently, I have had a few funny things occur, and tonight something that was actually hilarious. Sadly, I haven't blogged about any of them. Why? Well, I am concerned about the readership of my blog. There are a few people in my life who I don't think read my blog, but because of recent events, I am now thinking they might be followers. For example, my mountain man shaved his mountain mad beard. Awesome!! I really don't think he reads my blog, but he shaved right after I blogged about how horrible I think the mountain man beard is. Coincidence? I don't know...
Because of the unknown people who may be reading this, let me just say tonight was hilarious, and I wish I could tell you all about it. Lets just say I was completely out of my comfort zone, drinking diet coke way too late at night, all while trying to avoid doing laundry. Scary.
Recently, I have had a few funny things occur, and tonight something that was actually hilarious. Sadly, I haven't blogged about any of them. Why? Well, I am concerned about the readership of my blog. There are a few people in my life who I don't think read my blog, but because of recent events, I am now thinking they might be followers. For example, my mountain man shaved his mountain mad beard. Awesome!! I really don't think he reads my blog, but he shaved right after I blogged about how horrible I think the mountain man beard is. Coincidence? I don't know...
Because of the unknown people who may be reading this, let me just say tonight was hilarious, and I wish I could tell you all about it. Lets just say I was completely out of my comfort zone, drinking diet coke way too late at night, all while trying to avoid doing laundry. Scary.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Just because you can doesn't mean you should
I went to church today, and I was surrounded by mountain men. I'm not kidding, half the guys in my ward have these hideous bushy beards covering their faces. We live in a day and age where we have heaters in our homes and cars. We buy our food at the grocery store and don't have to hunt out in the cold weather to put food on the table. There is no practical reason for the mountain man beard to be so widespread! I look at all these hairy faces around me, and it makes me wonder "what are they thinking?!! Do they not realize they look ridiculous?"
Now, you may want to call me shallow for judging all these boys based on their facial hair choices, but really I'm not. One of my best friends has a mountain man beard. I really like him. We hang out a lot and have a lot in common. I have another friend who always asks me if there is anything else going on between me and first mentioned friend, and my answer is always "no...he has a mountain man beard." I have no problem being friends with a mountain man, but I don't think I could ever see a mountain man and think "wouldn't it be great to kiss that rugged mountain man."
Again, you may think I am shallow, but really I think I am justified. I think these mountain men should realize that just because they are capable of growing a big bushy beard, doesn't mean they should. Just because I am capable of rolling out of bed and heading to work five minutes later, doesn't mean I shouldn't shower, brush my teeth, blow dry my hair, put on makeup, etc. before I leave the house. I think everyone should realize the world would be better off if the mountain men stayed in the 1800's and stop trying to make a comeback in 2009.
Now, you may want to call me shallow for judging all these boys based on their facial hair choices, but really I'm not. One of my best friends has a mountain man beard. I really like him. We hang out a lot and have a lot in common. I have another friend who always asks me if there is anything else going on between me and first mentioned friend, and my answer is always "no...he has a mountain man beard." I have no problem being friends with a mountain man, but I don't think I could ever see a mountain man and think "wouldn't it be great to kiss that rugged mountain man."
Again, you may think I am shallow, but really I think I am justified. I think these mountain men should realize that just because they are capable of growing a big bushy beard, doesn't mean they should. Just because I am capable of rolling out of bed and heading to work five minutes later, doesn't mean I shouldn't shower, brush my teeth, blow dry my hair, put on makeup, etc. before I leave the house. I think everyone should realize the world would be better off if the mountain men stayed in the 1800's and stop trying to make a comeback in 2009.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Doing Laundry
When I was in college and living in student apartments, I used to have to do laundry in whatever laundry facility was available. Some of you know that the term "doing laundry", which started out meaning actually washing clothes, became synonymous with something else entirely. When you lived in an apartment with six people, sometimes the best place to "do laundry" was in the laundry facility at the apartment complex.
For the last five years or so, I have lived in places where I actually have a washer and dryer readily available and also don't have six roommates. Doing laundry has not been as big of a deal as it used to be.
Recently, my situation changed. I no longer have a washer and dryer in my house, but fortunately for me, I live across the street from a laundromat. Doing laundry is now something I actually have to plan for, and I will do laundry anytime I have a chance. And by that, I mean actually washing my clothes. I haven't actually visited the laundromat yet, as I have been washing my clothes at my mom's house or my sister's house. In an emergency, I have even washed clothes at my friend Natalie's house.
Last weekend, I was leaving my house, and I looked across the street at the laundromat, and there was a person sitting on a bench in front of the building who looked like a transvestite prostitute. I know that sounds harsh, but it was 9:00 in the morning, and the person was in full makeup, super short skirt, purple top, and tall boots. Really weird. I immediately called Natalie and made her go check out the situation. She agreed with my description of said person. I'm not sure if this person was washing their clothes or not, but just seeing her (or maybe him) at the laundromat gives a whole new meaning to "doing laundry".
For the last five years or so, I have lived in places where I actually have a washer and dryer readily available and also don't have six roommates. Doing laundry has not been as big of a deal as it used to be.
Recently, my situation changed. I no longer have a washer and dryer in my house, but fortunately for me, I live across the street from a laundromat. Doing laundry is now something I actually have to plan for, and I will do laundry anytime I have a chance. And by that, I mean actually washing my clothes. I haven't actually visited the laundromat yet, as I have been washing my clothes at my mom's house or my sister's house. In an emergency, I have even washed clothes at my friend Natalie's house.
Last weekend, I was leaving my house, and I looked across the street at the laundromat, and there was a person sitting on a bench in front of the building who looked like a transvestite prostitute. I know that sounds harsh, but it was 9:00 in the morning, and the person was in full makeup, super short skirt, purple top, and tall boots. Really weird. I immediately called Natalie and made her go check out the situation. She agreed with my description of said person. I'm not sure if this person was washing their clothes or not, but just seeing her (or maybe him) at the laundromat gives a whole new meaning to "doing laundry".
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Effective Communication
Alexis: "hey, can I ask you a question?"
Nicole: "sure"
Alexis: "I am classifying some files in the blah blah blah. Something something something, and some more blah blah blah." Pause, as if waiting for response.
Nicole: "I'm sorry I didn't hear the last 45 seconds of your question."
Alexis: "I've only been talking for 45 seconds."
Nicole: "Yeah, I know."
Nicole: "sure"
Alexis: "I am classifying some files in the blah blah blah. Something something something, and some more blah blah blah." Pause, as if waiting for response.
Nicole: "I'm sorry I didn't hear the last 45 seconds of your question."
Alexis: "I've only been talking for 45 seconds."
Nicole: "Yeah, I know."
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