But They Won't Be Able To See My Belly-Button Ring

Excerpts from the "Business Casual Dress Guidelines" just received in my email [with editorial comments by the Hotfessional]:

---

WHAT TO WEAR

Appropriate Tops:
§ Business casual shirts / tops / blouses
§ Shells [over your nipples?]
§ Oxford / dress shirts
§ Polo-style shirts
§ Turtlenecks / mock turtlenecks
§ Shirts with collars
§ Crew neck sweaters
§ Cardigan sweaters / sweater sets [this is what I'm wearing today - and it's 92 outside - and 1/2 the building lost power - and is without air conditioning!]
§ Vests worn with a business casual top
§ Suite jackets / blazers / sport coats [Sweet! or Suit! or Whatever!]

Appropriate Bottoms:
§ Business casual pants / slacks / trousers
§ Linen pants
§ Khaki-style pants
§ Dockers [...as opposed to "business casual pants/slacks/trousers"? Huh?]
§ Capri pants

Appropriate Dresses / Skirts:
§ Business casual dresses / skirts
§ Tailored dresses / skirts
§ Linen dresses / skirts
§ Knee-length skirts (within business standards must strike the knee) [again? as opposed to 'business casual, etc, etc.? w.t.f.?]

Appropriate Footwear:
§ Business casual dress shoes / sandals / pumps
§ Sling-back shoes
§ Open back dress shoes / mules
§ Flats / loafers
§ Leather topsiders / docksiders
§ Dress boots [I'm sure my thigh-high stilettos fit the description!]

WHAT NOT TO WEAR

Inappropriate Tops:
§ Sweatshirts / t-shirts (long / short sleeved) (allowed on Friday)
§ Tank tops
§ Shirts with pictures or language (excl. a small logo) [so, my "Heartless Bitches International" membership t-shirt is out?]
§ Backless, low-cut, sheer, tight or revealing tops [and 1/2 of the rest of my wardrobe?]
§ Bare midriff (front or back) / crop tops
§ Untucked shirts (excluding those tailored to be worn outside of trousers)
§ Fabrics: Denim (any color), vinyl, fleece or spandex [Well, here at least I have to say "Thank you Joseph, Mary and Baby Jesus"]

Inappropriate Bottoms:
§ Jeans (allowed on Friday or M-Th if wearing a Monthly Jeans badge) [more about that monthly jeans badge later!]
§ Stretch pants / leggings / stirrup pants [Again, hallelujah!]
§ Sweatpants / sweat suits
§ Shorts / walking shorts
§ Overalls / coveralls
§ Trousers worn below the waistline or revealing navels [As long as they don't go around lifting up shirts to see....how will they know? ]
§ Fabrics: Denim (any color), vinyl, fleece or spandex [And again....that spandex thing?]
§ City shorts [Now, this, I don't really understand. Have you looked at women's suits this season? Or can we override 'no City shorts' with 'business suites'?]

Inappropriate Dresses / Skirts:
§ Sun dresses
§ Backless, low-cut, sheer, tight or revealing dresses
§ Overall / coverall jumpers
§ Skirts / dresses that are too short (i.e. mini's)
§ Fabrics: Denim (any color), vinyl, fleece or spandex [no vinyl? damn. There goes the perfect outfit for my meeting next week.]

Inappropriate Footwear:
§ Athletic / tennis shoes (allowed on Friday or M-Th if wearing a Monthly Jeans badge)
§ Athletic sandals (i.e. Tevas)
§ Hiking boots / outerwear shoes or boots
§ Flip Flops
§ Garden Shoes (i.e. Crocs)

---

I've commented about Casual Friday before, so I'm actually really glad that guidelines came out. But come on - if managers didn't counsel employees on how they dressed before, what makes anyone think that it's going to happen just because an email gets sent out?

Now, about that Monthly Jeans badge? If you pay $25 and wear a bright yellow badge - which must stay visible at all times, you can wear jeans for that month. Jeans and tennis shoes. The t-shirts are still verboten (except on Fridays), but $25 will buy you the privilege of wearing jeans every day! Now, the money does go to a good cause, but people - you're the ones I hear outside my office bitching about the cost of gas, the cost of food in the cafeteria, the low wages and the rising unemployment stats in the state. I can't wait to see how many people buy into this.

---

---- Mr. Hot, Shortman and I are out to see The Gin Blossoms tonight. I consider myself lucky that our 15-year-old will go to concerts with us. Of course, bribing him with Mexican food beforehand may have something to do with it ----

There's Just Nothing Going On Except Conference Calls

After a full day on conference calls - I'm very, very grateful that we don't have video-conferencing.

They wouldn't see me playing with my bra, but since I'm on these damn diuretics (due to constant bloating from pre-menopause), they would see a little bit of a "but I've got to peeeeeeeeeeeee, stop talking and let me take a bio-break" chair dancing.

---

This just made me laugh:

---

I covet handbags. Right now, I'm in love with Beijo Bags. Especially this one:

And I want this briefcase:

But I'm afraid Mr. Hot would never let me hear the end of it. He understands (almost) shoes, but not purses. When I tried to explain why my Kate Spade ebay win ($20 for a black fabric "Sam") was a bargain, he looked at me like I was nuts. "Why do you need another black purse?" Explanations were impossible. There's a gene that they're missing.

---

I've been reading Amy for a while, and caught the early-on "Advice Smackdowns", but haven't been to the all advice, all the time site. Since I'm currently agonizing over my hair - (yes, another side-effect of pre-menopause....dry, dry, dry, ugly fucking hair that won't do a thing I want it to do...argh), maybe I'll pick up some pointers.

---

---- So, by now, you've probably figured out that I'm having a bit of writer's block today. Conference calls will do that to me. Check back tomorrow, maybe something will actually happen worth writing about [grin]. ----

Saturday Snaps

First, we woke up and went to sign the papers to get this. Yes, since I went from a station wagon to a sporty little sedan, we needed something to haul shit around in. This is going to be Shortman's in a few months.

Then we came home and I went and picked a few tomatoes from the planters. And admired the peppers. Yum.

Then I went to check out the flowers. Here are my black-eyed susans with an interspersing of Russian Sage

And my Silver Wave petunias that I grew from seed!

And my calendula. Also from seed.

Then I looked at my stack of books

Picked one (The Richard Bachman book) and made for this:

With some cranberry juice, ice, and this:

---- Life is good in the Hotfessional household this Saturday. ----

Music Mania - The Murder of an MP3 (and alliteration!)

I had an IPod shuffle. I bought it in 2005 - when it debuted. It died. Well, it didn't really die as much as was murdered. Mr. Hot hated the IPod (he's a Mac-hater, too.)

He surprised me with a new mp3 when I went to Amsterdam last summer (yes, for business. I would have liked to have said for the drugs...but I had to be all hotfessional and stuff. And I didn't get to see the red-light district either). He bought me a Samsung - with a screen! and I can load pictures! I love it. I forget to lock it when I throw it in my purse sometimes, so the next time I turn it on? No power. Battery dead (but not murdered!). But I love it. (And, I have to admit, I'm not a slave to iTunes anymore).

Aaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnyyyyyyyyway. Where was I? Oh, yea. The Shuffle. Why, you may wonder, did I buy a Shuffle in the first place. The "Baby" IPod. Cheap. No screen. You had to memorize your 1/2 Mb playlist. Well, I used it when I ran. Yes, races and shit. (I discovered that knees can fucking hurt. bad.) And I read about how running with an mp3 with a harddrive was pure frustration because of lockups and skips and all kinds of whatnot. So, the Shuffle it was. It's just a flash drive. Cool.

Then, when Mr. Hot got me the Samsung, I turned the shuffle over to Shortman. (Yes, a hand-me-down mp3, from his mother - mortifying, right?)

Unfortunately, it was soooo small, that one night, when Shortman piled his books on top of it, and Mr. Hot was looking for his good headphones, which were attached to the Shuffle; Mr. Hot, by pulling the headphones out of the shuffle (that, remember, was under a pile of textbooks), disemboweled the Shuffle. Yep. The innards - where the headphone jack plugs in? Became outtards.

And still attached to the headphones.

Today, as I was working on typing those mid-year reviews into the effed-up appraisal system, I started up iTunes and saw all of the music I had uploaded &/or purchased (aggggh - 99 cents each!). God help me if any of my co-workers saw some of the songs. But you, my friends? I'll share my sad, sad, musical taste with you all.

• The 5th Dimension: Stoned Soul Picnic
• a-ha: Take On Me
• Adam Ant: Goody Two Shoes, Desperate but Not Serious, Strip
• Al B. Sure!: Nite and Day
• Aretha Franklin: Respect
• Astaire: L-L-Love
• B-52s: Love Shack
• The Bangles: Walk Like an Egyptian
• Big Brother & The Holding Company: Piece of My Heart
• Blur: Song 2
• Bonnie Raitt: Longing In Their Hearts
• Brothers Johnson: Strawberry Letter 23
• EMF: Unbelieveable
• Eric Clapton: Bell Bottom Blues
• Foo Fighters: Times Like These
• Friends of Distinction: Grazing In the Grass
• Gwen Stefani: Hollaback Girl
• INXS: Devil Inside
• Joe Cocker: Feeling Alright
• John Butler Trio: What You Want
• k.d. lang: Save Me

Are you all sick yet? Okay - here's some more:

• Kathleen Edwards: Back to Me
• Linda Ronstadt: Someone to Lay Down Beside Me
• The Lovin' Spoonful: Summer In the City
• Martha Reeves & The Vandellas: Dancing in the Street
• Melissa Etheridge: I Run For Life
• Natasha Bedingfield: These Words, Single, Unwritten, Drop Me In the Middle
• Nelly: Hot in Here
• OutKast: Hey Ya!
• R. Kelly: Ignition ((Remix))
• Sheryl Crow: All I Wanna Do, Everyday Is A Winding Road, Steve McQueen, There Goes The Neighborhood
• Smash Mouth: All Star
• Sugar Ray: Fly
• Trace Adkins: Hot Mama

Hey - that last one was my theme song!

And:

• ZZ Top: Legs

---- Okay, so maybe killing it was a good thing! ----

But What Will Happen to Bat Boy?

My Gramma believed the National Enquirer. But my favorite was always The Weekly World News. I got home from work yesterday and Mr. Hot was in mourning. Sadly, Publisher American Media, Inc. announced that it will stop printing the WWN after 28 years. The online version will still exist, but no printed version.

How are we ever going to find out the scientific explanations behind brains blowing up?

Or how much time you have if you've been bitten by a vampire?

And where will Danwei, the Chinese web site, find their news?

At one time, they favored the printed version over the online version. I guess 5 years later, they've reversed their position. It's just sad to me.

I think I'm going to have to buy this book. Especially since there doesn't seem to be archived stories on the online version of the Weekly World News. And I missed this story. ---- The biggest concern I have though? What am I going to read while I'm in the checkout line? ----

And the Winner Is:

They're bringing it over for a test drive in about 30 minutes. I'm excited. I got a darned good deal (rebates being offered if you sign before 7/31) - it's black and shiny - although living on a dirt road, I know I'm going to regret this.

For all of you that recommended minivans - aaaaaahhahahahahahahahahaah. No, actually, I thought about it. For about 3 seconds. Honestly though, every time I've sat in one, I've thought - "Y'know, I could do this - this is pretty nice." - But then.......somehow, I just can't do it. A station wagon was hard enough. But you know I love you all.

The hard part is going to be cleaning up the Magnum enough to turn it in. Three years full of baseball and moving (from a small city to the country) and gardening and hauling and a crazy dog.....it's groady. (Have I just given you all further proof that I'm pushing 45? Groady!)

Now, I'm going to go watch out for the guy bringing it over. And drive around for a few minutes. And then probably end up calling the insurance agent.

---- And my plea for the day - and for a very good cause - look for Secret Agent Josephine's artwork in the sidebar and if you're in Redondo Beach, CA - Go! See! Her! Art! and Rescue! Dogs! ----

Don't Let Me Get Near the Salon

There once was a new blogger who,
had a job and she was a mom, too.
And though try as she might -
to be witty and bright -
This lame post was all she could do.

It's just one of those days. Trying to go in too many different directions. So, I'll just share a few things:

• I have had readers from 20 countries. Okay, this, to me, is amazing. Denmark leads the non-U.S. list with 5% of my hits. But also, Canada, the U.K., Germany, Italy, Australia, France, Norway, Japan, Mexico, Singapore, Peru, Russia, New Zealand, Indonesia, Liechtenstein, Argentina, and Turkey. Wow you guys! How about de-lurking into the comments? Tell me where you're from.
• Based on the keyword searches that brought people to my site, lot of people are interested in Lab/Daschund mix dogs (and I had never heard of these...but 3 different variations of "lab/daschund" sent people to my site). Other keywords? Bandonkadonk Butts, "I love Ohioan guys Tank Top", Porta Johnny, Penis Enlargement and webbed hand pantyhose. I'm guessing on that last one. As far as I know, it's the only time I used the word pantyhose in a post.
• My admin brought me a huge bouquet (no, not because I'm the most wonderfullest boss in the world). Her daughter was in a musical this past weekend, and then left for a week of Leadership Camp (yes, she has one of those 'perfect' children). B was left with nine(!) bunches of cut flowers. The one she brought me is white/purple and pink lilies with a whole bunch of greenery. It makes me smile whenever I look at it.
• Shortman is going to get his eyes examined for contacts today. He's only been wearing glasses for a year, but based on my eyesight (poor) and Mr. Hot's eyesight (poorer), he probably could have used them before that. School screening never picked up a problem - I just decided last year that he needed to get those peepers checked. Contacts are, hopefully, our way of getting him out of the house while wearing corrective lenses. He'll wear them while driving, but then whips off the glasses as soon as he takes the keys out of the ignition. Vanity, thy name is "15-year-old boy"
• I am one class away from having my Leadership Development certification from University of Michigan. I registered for "Managing in a Global Organization" - and I'll be in the September class. I am one of those people I hate - A University of Michigan student. (Be nice people, I bleed Green and White. Went to 3 universities - Michigan State, Eastern Michigan and Marshall. All green/white schools. It's killing me)
• I love watching the hawks and the cranes that fly over this building. We're in the middle of a natural wetlands, and we have all kinds of birds that live around here. The only problem is watching out for the goose poop on your way to the car.
• Speaking of cars. I keep getting this question in my quest for my new vehicle: "And what color are you looking for?" - My response? "Um, you mean, black, gray, grayer, grayest, white or gray?" Seriously. What happened to car colors?
• Chef Jake asked me to check out his site. It's a really great site - and the link is in my sidebar. Go take a look. I love the ability to make find recipes, make meal plans, and print out shopping lists - if you use my sponsor id, you get $5 off a six-month subscription. (Okay, shameless, I know, but it is a wonderful site - and I'm going to use it regularly. I'm hopeless at being creative with meals.)
  

---- When I get like this, (all random and stuff), it usually means I need to take a drastic step in my life. Like maybe a new hairstyle. But I'm 80% gray - and I'm pushing 45 - and I just don't have any ideas. My hair is wavy and notoriously dry, and I hate it. It's never a good idea to go into the stylist in this kinds of mood. Keep your fingers crossed that I do nothing stupid tonight! ----

Happy Birthday Gramma.

Yesterday was my Gramma's birthday. She would have been 95. She was my absolutely favorite person in the world. The one I could always turn to when my life was falling apart (which it did from time to time).

My parents were married in 1962 while Dad was on leave from the Marines. He was in Okinawa when I was born and Mom lived with her parents and her brother and sister. There are approximately 287,769 pictures documenting the first 6 months of my life. Gramma and I were best buddies. She took care of me while Mom was at work. I always felt that I had a special place in her heart - even though I wasn't the first grandchild, or the only girl, or anything like that. I could just feel her love. And lots of times I still do.

I remember her teaching me to dance the polka. (She was Slovak, and was a typical Eastern European babushka). She taught me how to cook pierogis and galumpkis (stuffed cabbage) and beets. She taught me how to crochet. Our afghans weren't always straight, but they were colorful.

I spent as many weekends at her house as I could. My grandfather died when I was 5. My uncle had already gotten married and moved out by this time. My Aunt married soon after, to a man with 3 kids of his own, and they moved away. She was alone. She joined the local "Senior Citizens Club" - where she was a hit with the gentlemen. She never looked twice at any of them. She had married my grandfather, had 5 children with him, and was never interested in another man.

Her oldest son died at 39, leaving 6 children of his own. You should never have to bury your own child. How true this was for her. She got tears in her eyes every time she talked about "Sonny".

She took in boarders - Medical students from Wayne State. I had a huge crush on one of them. I always wonder what happened to Dr. Ken. Another favorite of hers was the young lady from Bangkok. Although the combination of boiled cabbage (Gramma) and Thai spices made it impossible for us to spend much time in the kitchen.

She taught me how to drink tea (lots of milk and sugar). And how to play Rummy. And a card game called "Casina". I've forgotten how to play - I'm going to have to google it and see if I can teach it to Shortman.

We burned too many angel cakes and scorched too many lemon meringue pies to count. One day we decided to make this lime Jello/Oreo Cookie/Cool Whip concoction. We made 3 trips to the store for ingredients. Once to get everything. Twice to start over because we messed it up. The first time, we put the jello in an ice-water bath in the sink to set. As she wiped off the table so we could sit down and have our tea before the next step...she threw the dishrag into the sink. Right.Directly.Into.The.Jello. We trudged back to the store. She had never learned to drive. We walked. This time, we put the jello into the freezer to set. It fell over. Back.We.Went. It was the most delicious lime Jello/Oreo Cookie/Cool Whip concoction I ever tasted. Flavored with the tears we shed laughing so hard we cried.

When I got married the first time, she came to my wedding and danced the polka. She had gone to live with my Aunt in Colorado by this time. All of her children were busy with their families, and the grandchildren were busy, and the neighborhood wasn't what it used to be. So she moved. So many of her things were shipped here and there.

I got her wedding ring - a very plain, very thin silver band that I wear with my own rings (which were my mothers). I also have her Christmas ornaments and her creche. The one that my Grandfather bought her and that always, always had the place of honor on the mantle at Christmas. She always had Christmas Eve at her house, and one of the uncles always dressed as Santa and delivered presents. Every year, when I bring it out, I relive some of those memories.

She had colon cancer and recovered. She had breast cancer, but the Doctors felt that the strain to do a mastectomy was too much. She had had minor heart attacks.

My mother called me one day. I was living with Husband #1 in West Virginia. I answered the phone and knew, immediately, what had happened. Not the details, but the result.

Gramma had been on the phone with my uncle. They were chatting normally - her in Colorado, him in Michigan. He heard her say, as she always did, "Oh Yoy". Then he heard a thud. And she was gone.

---- Twenty years haven't made me miss you any less Gramma. Thank you for watching over me. I love you. ----

Summer Saturday

I'm notoriously bad for posting on Saturdays. But I love my blog, and I want other people to love my blog. So, today - and every Saturday through the rest of the summer, I'm going to try to post pictures of Saturday. Maybe only one, maybe several, but I'll accomplish two things. I'll post AND I'll get out with the camera.

However, today I get to cheat. I'm posting pictures from an earlier Saturday. The day that Shortman and Momanddad and I went to see the Blue Angels perform at the airshow at Willow Run airport.

It was HOT. There was no breeze and barely a cloud in the sky. They sold out of umbrellas after an hour. It took us nearly 2 to get out of the parking lot when it was over. It was a spectacular day.

The first fighters

It was so crowded, they had to turn people away.

A staged helicopter rescue. See the guy in red hanging off the rope?

One of the Blue Angels

The Blue Angels in formation. They are amazing.

---- If you're interested in joining me in the Summer Saturday picture posting, leave me a comment. I'll add a section to my blogroll to point to you. ----

A Fool and His Money

Got back really late last night from Chicago. I was supposed to land at 9:30 pm. I landed at 11:20. It's not the worst delay I've had, by far, but it's so exhausting. It usually takes me about an hour after I get home to decompress enough to fall asleep, so I was not in at 7:30 this morning.

I've had some interesting experiences travelling for this company. Not as many as someone who does this full-time, but for the last 8 years, about every 3 weeks, I pack up my crap and go.

I've had lost luggage, and been in cab wrecks.

After one delay, I arrived in Manhattan at 2 a.m., got to The Plaza (yes, that The Plaza), checked in and stumbled up to my room. When I opened the door, I realized that there was someone in the bed. Snoring.

I've sat next to droolers on planes and drunks on trains. I've been re-routed and cancelled and bumped and upgraded.

But I have to say that something that happened yesterday was a first.

---

I left the office at 3:30 for a 7:17 flight from O'Hare to Detroit Metro. It was a nice, clear afternoon after a night of wicked thunderstorms. (The damn cable went out in the hotel room. At 8 o'clock. I went to sleep. There was no minibar and I had no book. It sucked.)

Outside the office, on Madison, in the Loop, a cab pulled up. There was a woman getting out, so the driver beckoned to me (standing there with a roller bag and laptop case). I nodded and saw her lean over the seat to pay him just as the trunk popped open.

I'm not a damsel in distress, and in the summer, my luggage weighs hardly anything at all, so I lifted the trunk lid, threw my suitcase in, and closed it up. I walked around to the passenger side door just as the driver was opening his door to, I assume, help me with my bags. By the time he got to the back quarterpanel, I was already in my seat.

Then? He's gone. I figured he was checking to make sure that I really did close the trunk. But, when I looked out the back window? No. Not there. So I sit. And sit. And then I see it.

Flying money.

And then I see my driver. Running down the center of Madison. Chasing after the flying money. Stopping traffic.

Picture it. Listen! Tire screeching. Money blowing down a Chicago financial district street. Pedestrians standing there with their mouths hanging open. Horns blaring.

Me? I sat there. Once I knew where to look, I had a pretty good view of the action. Besides, the trunk was closed, I couldn't switch cabs. I had to wait. And I was wearing heels.

He came back with wads in both hands. And a really dumb grin on his face. Another cabbie knocks in the window. Hands in a dollar bill.

My driver thanks him and closes the window. And then turns and says to me:

I keep my money under my leg when I drive. I forgot it was there when I
got up to get your bag.

Keeps his money. Under his leg. Uh, okay.

Forgot it was there? So when he gets up (which he must not do very often, right?), the wind? In Chicago? (This is Chicago, people!) Takes all of his money that he made that day (this was 3:30 in the afternoon!) and flings it down one of the busiest streets in the Loop.

---- Jonathan Swift said "A wise man should have money in his head, but not in his heart. " The Hotfessional adds, "And certainly not under his ass." ----

Well, duh.

This article sums it up. Why this morning at 3 am, I was:

• on a conference call
• while writing emails
• while getting dressed to head down to the hotel's fitness center (sinceI was up anyway)

and then why at 6 am, I was

• on a conference call
• while writing an email
• while drying my hair

and at 7 am, I was

• walking to the office
• while talking to Mr. Hot
• while rearranging a conference call so I could attend a different conference call
• while putting on my earrings and brushing my hair

and why at 9:45 am, I am

• on a conference call
• while writing an email
• while blogging
• and trying to figure out how to get some food
• and researching system failures of imaging controller databases

The original article said:

Because she’s a woman. I have a theory that women, especially mothers, have
several advantages over men in the small-business world.
¶They are better listeners.
¶Consequently, they pick up details and nuances men often miss.
¶They are more active networkers.
¶They are better motivators.
¶Having to juggle home and workplace duties, they are better multi-taskers.
¶They are more patient, and thus better able to stick to long-term strategies.
¶They are more tenacious. Men can be pretty dogged, but not a single one, to my knowledge, has had to endure childbirth.

I love the last one. Based on my experiences whenever Mr. Hot or Shortman isn't feeling well, I know that neither one of them would be able to survive. One of my peers had a strained shoulder muscle that had him moaning and groaning for a good 6 weeks.

So now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go:

• Take a pee
• and fix my ponytail, because I left in a bit of a hurry this morning,

and then

• Call my boss
• while rescheduling some meetings
• while writing up the research on the failure of the synchronized SAN disks
• while googling what I can eat that will be at least semi-healthy from Au Bon Pain since they have a store downstairs

---- Maybe someday I'll publish my secrets about how to mix a damn good vodka/cranberry/limeade while reading, polishing my toenails, changing the cat litter, and deadheading the daisies in my flowerbed. Now if I could just get Mr. Hot to be able to give me a backrub while watching Keith Olbermann, I'd be one happy little camper. ----

Wheels and Whines

In Motown there once lived a chick,

who thought car shopping was rather 'ick'.

"But they all look the same,

the only change is the name,

and the salesman can be such a prick."

I have to find a new car. My lease is up next month. I have a 2005 Dodge Magnum. It's a station wagon. I'm a Hotfessional. I didn't want the station wagon - but Mr. Hot and Shortman? They wanted the Magnum. Thought it was cool.

When Mr. Hot and I met, he sang the praises of station wagons. My reaction? "Over my dead body." His family always had station wagons. Well, yea....they had 6 kids. Where else do you put them? It was the 1960s. There weren't minivans or SUVs. There were station wagons. When the Magnum came out, he tried to sell it to me as a "cool" station wagon.

Mr. Hot: "But it's so cool looking. "
The Hotfessional: "But it's a station wagon."
Mr. Hot: "But it's like an SUV without being an SUV."
The Hotfessional: "But it's a station wagon."
Mr. Hot: "But Chrysler is giving everyone employee financing. Your payment will be less than that little car you want."
The Hotfessional: "But it's a stat...."

You get the point.

The hard part about this is that I don't like cars. I hate them. I grew up in Michigan. Near Detroit. Motor City? No mass transit. Hating cars? You might as well kick me out of the state. My uncles worked for the auto industry. They pretend they don't know me. I just want to get into the dealer, pick something out, write that check, and move on.

Unfortunately, I need a car. And Mr. Hot and Shortman need a vehicle. We went to a single car about 5 years ago, and it's been fine. But now Shortman can drive. And we live out in the country. So we're shopping for a used pick-up truck for them, and a car for me.

I've been a loyal Dodge lease holder since 1996. Four different cars. This year? I'm looking at something other than Chrysler products - I heard that the Saturn Aura (which is a nice looking car) is great. Then I find out that I have a turn-in fee of $300 if I don't get another Dodge.

Hate.

Now I have to decide if it's worth 300 more bucks to get away from Chrysler. I am looking for a mid-sized sedan. Good gas mileage. Decent room (I'm 5'9", Mr. Hot is 6', and Shortman is 6'2" and growing). I don't want an SUV. I'd prefer front-wheel drive. Whatever suggestions you all have, please let me know.

---- Okay, there is ONE car that I love. I lust after it. I would marry it. I want to kiss it and lick it. It's the Jaguar XJ. If you have an extra one laying around in your garage? Call me. Kisses and licks. ----

Land of Elephants, Camels and the Taj Mahal

In October, 2004, I went to India to meet with the consulting firm we were using for application support and development. It was, without a doubt, one of the most interesting and bizarre experiences of my life.

We left Chicago on a Wednesday evening and flew to London. From London, we flew to Delhi. When we got to Delhi, it was 11 pm Thursday night. Nearly 7,500 miles and about 15 hours in the air. Luckily, corporate policy allows business class, so we were at least comfortable.

Just before we landed in Delhi, the plane was hit by lightening. Twice. I don't have a picture of that, but....it certainly felt like this:

Then when we woke the next morning (Friday, after about 4 hours of sleep in an actual bed), we walked the gardens of the hotel. It was beautiful. We were sleepy. (Bigger pics)

We went to one of the offices and spent the day trying to remember to not drink the water. Or coffee. Which meant that the presenters couldn't turn off the lights in the conference rooms to show us their Powerpoints without at least one of us nodding off.

On the way back to the hotel, we shared the road with some interesting vehicles.

Saturday morning, we piled into a van to head for our sight-seeing weekend in Agra. Approximately 200 kms (125 miles) - which would take 5 hours. It was an enlightening 5 hours.

Hey Hotfessional, I don't think we're in Chicago anymore.

There are no lane dividers. Or lanes.

Store and restaurant. And tractors. And lots and lots of people. Everywhere.

After no real sleep for 4 days, and the sensory overload that is India - this sign at a toll booth sent me into a giggle-fit that nearly caused me to pee my pants. Why? Why is spitting prohibited? Who needs to spit there? Is spitting a problem only on certain roads?

Spitting is prohibited, but believe me, if you want to expel any other bodily fluids? Go for it.

In the United States, if you had a sign painted on the back of your truck that said "Horn"? OTHER drivers would shoot you.

Pay special attention to all of the people in the small yellow vehicle. Those things are called "Trishaws". They're supposed to fit 3 people. We counted some that had 12 or 15. On top. Hanging off the doors. It didn't matter. Some of the motorcycles had 5. Mom, Dad, 2 kids and Mom holding a baby. Seriously.

The road between Delhi and Agra was a divided highway. Indians drive on the left, like they do in Great Britain. The sacred cows of India lay on the grassy divider (which isn't very grassy, it's actually mostly dirt, with fences around the trees that are trying to grow - the fences are to protect the trees from the cows - who push them down). Sometimes, though, the cows only lay halfway on the divider. And half in the road.

Also in the divider are little openings for drivers to change direction. Say you're going north - and suddenly decide that you need to spit. And you know you're coming to a "no spitting" zone. So you decide to go back south. No problem! Use one of these little turnarounds.

But if you're carrying a really heavy load? Of steel pipes? You may want to tie them down. Because otherwise? When you turn? It's possible that the load may slide. And make you pop a wicked wheelie. See the front tires? Off the ground? This delayed us for a little while.

But then, we arrived. And saw the most famous tribute of a husband to his wife - The Taj Mahal.

It was an awe-inspiring sight - on a beautiful October day. We stayed on the grounds, taking pictures and watching people until sunset. And when the sun set behind the white marble? It can take your breath away.

People asked me, when I came back, if I'd ever go again. A lot of them wouldn't have gone in the first place. They looked at my pictures and commented on the dirtiness and crowdedness and "how could you eat the food?". [By the way, Indian food? Yum. Indian food three times/day? Bring the Kaopectate.] I told them I'd go back in a second. We saw Delhi, Agra, Mumbai (Bombay) and Bangalore. There's so much more I want to see.

The people are warm and charming and we were treated like kings. They brought out their pashminas and jewelry and silks and were thrilled to speak about their history. They welcomed us and fed us and fed us some more. I'd still go back. I still can't believe I got to go there once.

---- Maybe I had it wrong about the spitting though? Do you think the sign was for these guys???? ---

The Week that Sucked

Ballard Street is one of my favorite comics. And this one? Had me cracking up.

It has not been a good week for the Hotfessional. Mr. Hot and I did NOT like each other this week. Between last Friday's post and yesterday? Twenty words. Tops. I think Dickhead and Bitch made up a goodly portion of those 20.

Work sucked monkey balls what with the layoffs and the reorganizations. I've stressed myself into a massive canker sore outbreak - with a side order of zits. I did lose 6 lbs....mostly because I was certain I was going to hurl if I got near food.

Annnnyyyyywwwwaaaayyyyy - Mr. Hot and I? - we made up. Yes, make-up kissing and rubbing was involved, and it was all very, very nice...well, except for that canker sore....and today when I ran across the Ballard Street comic I thought:

I need to show a little appreciation to all of the people who mad me laugh and
think and got me through these past few days when I would have loved, more than anything, to just get into the fetal position for 10 or 12 hours. Here they are, in no
particular order....

• Badger - because of her reading list - which made me smile - because I've read so many of those same books - over and over again.
• Cupcake - because she posted about Huntington, WV - and when I commented about the Holiday Inn where Mr. Hot and I used to 'hang out' between classes, she answered. It brought back memories of when we were young and I used to shake at the thought of never seeing him again.
• Blackbird - because she admitted that she doesn't wash her face every night - and sometimes I think everyone else is perfect. It helps that they're not.
• Crystal - because she's just freakin' hilarious....
• And last, but certainly not least - Amalah - to whom I dedicate this next Ballard Street - because I got so wrapped up in her archives and sharing her joys and sorrows, that I temporarily forgot about mine:

Thank you all so very much. We may never meet face to face, but you all are some of the funniest writers I've read. Put yourselves up on that little pedestal for a few minutes.

---- And Mr. Hot? Yea, he makes me laugh too. And for the record? He was pretty much right. ----

Alphabet Soup ....

.... now with gratuitious sex references!

Once upon a time, there were 3 co-workers who were thrown together to create a new way of doing the job they'd been doing individually for 25, 22 and 10 years. They became very good friends and were extremely well known around the company. W., G. and B. (nicknames that have been shortened to assure anonymity, but The Hotfessional is "B", and suffice it to say that it stands for a certain style of [usually black leather, zippered and high-heeled] footwear that she spends wayyyy toooo much money on) were the stars of the show for a while.

Last year, G and B were given new jobs, and although they were still closely tied to W, they added more members to their "inner circle". D. first - because D and W and G had worked together before, and then more recently, P.

Now, I've blogged several times about the state of the organization I work for. Here, and here, and most recently - here. The restructuring that has been announced is extremely strange. Not at all what was expected, and people are talking about it. They're pissed. They see injustice and placements that can only be described as suspect. Egos that definitely don't need to be stroked are being given the equivalent of hand jobs.

Not to say that it's all doom and gloom. Those of us in our own "inner circle" are having a great time whenever we can.

Except for P. - the new guy. (And yes, for those of you that are wondering, I'm the only one in the inner circle with tits.) He's taking great umbrage at the fact that we're teasing G for his place in the restructuring.

P. told me yesterday, "You know, you are completely stepping over the line on this. The teasing has got to stop. It's not corporately responsible."

Harumph. Excuse me???? I'm stepping over the line? I'm not corporately responsible? What about the fact that there's a guy with almost 30 years of service, who never, NOT once, has been evaluated any lower than "exceeds expectations", is universally admired for his ability to get done whatever needs to be done, is known for taking care of his employees BUT is now reporting to a woman hired in 1998 - one with no experience managing a staff at all?

---- P? Don't make me get my boots dirty. ----

It's Monday - I'm Moaning.

I received a quote from a contractor today with a $2500/day rate. He's self employed. Assume he works 150 days/year. $375,000 per year. For "consulting" and "transitioning". Did I mention that I've been "transitioning" for the last 6 years through reorganizations and restructuring and mergers? I think I can undercut him. $2250 is reasonable, don't you think? I'm a bargain. (But not cheap. Really. It's just an act. Yeh.)

---

Last Tuesday, I got a call from a project manager who needed my "help" to get a couple of signatures so that she could cover her ass on a big mistake that had been made on one of her projects. She didn't test (or have tested) a major piece of functionality on a new system that was implemented on July 1. That piece? Blew up.

When it blew? Four other pieces went to hell. In a handbasket.

The pleading and begging conversation started at 11:30 in the morning. By 9:00 p.m. I'd we'd gotten the appropriate signatures and were going to be okay. I asked the absolutely useless project manager to keep me informed (since I'd given up a major part of my evening to handle this for her). Never got a single update. Thursday morning, (Wednesday was a holiday), I sent her an email asking how it went.

Hotfessional: "So, I assume everything ran fine since I didn't hear from anyone after I worked on this all day?"
Her response: "Oh, yea, thought you were on the email string."

Guess what I'm working on now? The exact same BITCH project manager has another "issue" that requires my assistance. I'm still deciding on the murder weapon on how to use this as a learning opportunity. I know I'll do it, since her incompetence shouldn't hurt the clients, but oh, I'd so love to have the power to show her the freakin' door. I only have enough power to tell her boss that she needs to be shown the freakin' door. And unfortunately, she reports to my one grudge.

---

We have 9 microwaves for this building. And a cafeteria. And vending machines all over the place. When I decide to stop buying my lunch because Lean Cuisines are all 1/2 price (and the good ones - that I used to eat when I was a teller a long, long time ago in a...never mind)? Yea, 5 of the microwaves die. Dead. Gone. And the remaining ones? Can't do anything but full power. 100% nuclear. Now I have to be selective about which damn frozen lunch (but with less than 300 calories!) I grab out of the freezer in the morning just in case the microwaves here can't handle it!

---

I still have to do mid-year reviews. On 5 employees and myself. I have most of my own data gathered, but I really do check to make sure that my staff's numbers (which they put in themselves) are correct, so I have to gather data on them as well. And, the sad part is, none of us expect to have a future here. So really, who gives a shit? This may be the first year I take them all at their word. [And if you're thinking that they overstate and I mark them lower? No, that's really rare. Usually I keep track better, and therefore, they're graded higher when I double-check].

And to make it worse, this year I have another 4 people "matrixed" to me. I get to give input to their reviews, too.

---

Our spam filter seems to have broken on work email. So, now I'm getting emails with these subjects:

• Finance your cosmetic surgery. Get a FREE quote!
• We're #1 OnlinePharmacy, Save up to 80% on your prescription drugs hayv
• Demande de confirmation d'inscription à EAN [note: In french!!!]
• re: Prosodie Interactive - "Your Outsourced IVR One Stop Shop"

And those are the fairly tame ones. They just take up room. Thankfully, the penis enlargement and "Have Sex All Night" items are still being caught. What I want to know is how these fuckers people broke through the heaven that was our spam blocker.

---

On another note, this blog was rated:

Today at least.

I can only assume that it's rated on the most recent post, because I'm sure it was an R last week when I checked. I bet the 'fuckers' in this one change my rating. It only found 2 asses and a bitch when it checked and gave out the PG-13. [Or, maybe it was looking into my living room this weekend during the 97-degree heat....Mr. Hot, Shortman and me!]

---

---- Back to the mid-year reviews. That sound that you hear from the midwest is all of the motivation and drive being sucked out of me. Sounds kinda like your sink when it finishes draining. Ssssssssssssllllllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkkk.----

Not Including the Title

Here's a point for debate. Who talks more, men or women?

At work? Definitely the men I work with. They don't shut up. At least compared to me, but I personally think I'm very quiet (for a woman?) One man, in fact, is known for taking an agenda topic scheduled for a 10 minute overview and spending 15 minutes simply taking about WHY his team can't possibly be held accountable for delivering. Remember that I work in financial services? Remember that the Federal-freaking government keeps a close eye on what we do with your money and personal information? Remember that reporting on these types of things is what keeps us out of jail? Well, his team either a) knows better or b) are way too busy to worrry about these things. (Sorry, got off topic there)

Aaaannnyyyywaaayyyyy - After his 15 minute diatribe, he starts over at the beginning. Seriously. Maybe you know someone like this? Feels like you can't possibly have understood the level of intelligence at which they were speaking, so they have to repeat it, all over again in 3rd grade terms?

Because....you....know.....we.....are.....so.....important....that.....we....have....to....waste....your....
time....making....sure.....you....understand....our.....words.

At home? Shortman started talking when he was 20 months old and hasn't shut up yet - 169 months later. He lost his first baby tooth when he was 4. I told the dentist he must have shaken it loose with the constant. talking. about. nothing. His first geekiness showed through when he insisted, before anything else got installed, that he had to have TeamSpeak and his microphone set up on the new computer. He even talks, coherently - and generally about baseball - in his sleep, dammit.

Of course, considering Mr. Hot and I aren't speaking right now, it's a tie on the marriage-front. The reason we're not talking isn't really the important part of the topic. The fact is, we're both about as stubborn as can be, and when one says "That's it, I'm not talking to you", the other takes it as a personal challenge to last even longer. Sometimes, in fact, I enjoy the silence - it's better than the smart-ass shit that I get when my own mouth moves too fast for my brain. (Okay, I can admit that it does happen from time to time.)

Really though. 16,000 words. How many of those have 4 letters? What's the difference between those of us who work outside the home vs. stay-at-home moms? I know that some of you are authors. Give us an idea about what 16,000 words means anyway. How many words to you think you speak in a given 24 hour period. Give me some background - at home vs. work? Are you male or female? Married or single?

---- There’s 478 words in this post. Man, I guess I may have to talk to Mr. Hot today to get to my quota. Or not. ----

Wednesday Holidays are Weird

I don't normally hold grudges. I have a problem forgetting things, I'll admit, but not a problem forgiving. I regularly counsel employees - "Let it go." I tell friends - "Take a deep breath, have a drink and a good cry, and move on. It doesn't do you any good to stew." I tell Mr. Hot - "Shut it already....."

Except once - and yes, I have held onto this, tightly to my breast, for about 8 years now. When I was a newly promoted manager, located in a different state than my boss and peers, my goal was to prove that my team was capable of doing anything that the "local" team was doing. One person in particular (let's call her Janice, shall we - just to make it easier) was determined that nothing that "the Michigan group" was up to her high expectations.

The setting was our regular staff meeting, and this time, my boss's boss (who is actually now a very close friend of mine) was in attendance. It was very important that my team did well and proved its worth - there was no real reason to keep 5 people who sat 300 miles from the rest of the team otherwise. When a particular project was discussed, (for one of Janice's clients), and other managers hemmed and hawed around (she was notoriously difficult to work with), I quickly stepped up and volunteered my team. This was my chance to show the boss's boss that we were important contributors to the effort.

But Janice? (Janice the bitch?) Well, here's what happened y'all:

Janice: "Oh no, that's okay, I'll wait until Tom's team is available."

Tom: "But my team is working on the VeryBigLarge project that isn't scheduled to be completed for 4 months."

Janice: "Okay, what about Steve's team?"

Steve: "Well, we're finishing up Medium project, but you know that we've got TheCriticalFavored project lined up right after that. We won't be able to start your's until that's over."

Hotfessional: "We're just finishing Tiny project, but we can be ready to go within 2 weeks, and with your timeline, we can actually come in 3 weeks before your deadline."

Janice: "Um, well, I just don't think your team is up to this. Nothing I've gotten back from them has ever been right."

Oh no she didn't.

Oh hell yes, she did.

Now, you all know that I slammed that phone into mute mode, called her some very, very choice words, and managed to calm myself down in about 30 seconds flat. She was there. Face to face with Boss's boss, and I was on the phone and she said that. If I could have reached through the virtual world and slapped her silly, you know I would have.

But no. I was the consummate professional.

Hotfessional: "Janice, I certainly must apologize. I was never informed that my team's work was not up to your standards. In fact, I don't believe we've ever worked on one of your projects. We've worked most recently on Susan's and Sally's projects, and their clients have been very complimentary. Please send me the examples of what problems you had and I certainly will have a discussion with the team."

Janice: "Um, well, really Hotfessional, I didn't tell you because I didn't follow the project process to get this work done, and when it came back with mistakes, I just did the work myself."

Okay, now. Her role was not supposed to actually DO this work - whether there were 'mistakes' in it or not. The project process was very important in order to appropriately track client time and resource efforts. We were in the midst of attempting some certification that relied on ensuring that all processes where followed. She cared so much about making sure that my team and I were seen as incompetent - in front of Boss's boss!!!!!!, that she actually forgot that she had made a bigger, badder blunder than a simple formatting mistake on a website.

Boss's Boss: "Janice, I think the Michigan team is well suited to take on this work, and can get it accomplished within the appropriate timeframes. You make sure that you keep Hotfessional informed and involved so that if any questions arise she can ensure that her team knows what the client's requirements are. "

But, sometimes there's no justice in the world. Janice got promoted. To a position that should have gone to one of my peers. I've had about 5 phone calls from people (who are very senior in the organization) wanting to know if I agree with the decision to promote her. Not only to promote her, but to have my friend reporting to her. My friend who has way more experience and knowledge than Janice. My friend who should have that job.

---

How many of my co-workers are included in this number? I don't have the exact count yet, or know everyone that has been let go, but it's a BIG number. And the restructured organization? Demoralizing. A lot of work that has been done over the past 6 years to make this company more efficient and (as evidenced by the number of bidders when merger/aquisition talks started) successful was wiped out in one fell swoop. My peers and I all had the same reactions - we've made peace with the fact that we no longer see ourselves as having careers here. We'll be professional, we'll take care of our clients, but we don't understand or buy into the decisions that were made. And when the top level of management doesn't have the backing of their senior managers? It's only a matter of time before the senior managers are gone. No matter whose choice it is, the loss of drive for a bunch of type-As can only hurt the organization.

---- And what is with a Wednesday off? Yesterday seemed like Saturday. Today seems like Monday. Maybe that has something to do with this sucky mood. It's either that or it's because Mr. Hot forgot the vodka ----

The Dilemma

First - dilemma - one of those words that - no matter what - doesn't look right when you type it out. And to make it even weirder. Keep saying it. Over and over?

Aaaaanyway. We all face them, right? Fish or chicken? Roses or carnations? Vodka or rum? Stay or quit?

Yep, about sums it up. Someone that I respect and admire has an opening that I know he'd love to give me. I would like to work with this guy. But, it's at least an hour drive from home. And I'd be giving up a very lucrative retention and severance package. One that would allow me to change careers if I chose to do so. The dilemma (there it is again....) isn't really whether or not to take the job - it's whether or not to even discuss the job.

I have been agonizing all weekend over the basic decision to give this man a call. (How sad is that, really?). A mutual friend of ours sent me an email and said, "Hotfessional. Call Mr. Big. I know he'd love to give you this job. Just do it."

I decided this morning that I owe them both the courtesy. So, I called. Luckily, Mr. Big was in a meeting and said he'd need to call me back. I emailed my contact information to him, but I'm really hoping (with the holiday tomorrow) that he waits and I don't need to deal with this today. Sometimes, I'm such a pussy.

---

[edited about 45 minutes later]

Geez. Maybe I should wish for a couple of million dollars. So, Mr. Big sends me an email and says that he filled the senior position that he wanted me for. He'd heard that my financial situation was going to make it nearly impossible for me to leave before early next year. If only ALL of my dilemmas (try it, seriously, it's just a strange word) were that easily solved.

----- Especially the vodka/rum one. -----

The Weekend in Review

Oh my holy hotdamn. Drag racing is awesome. I've been to the Nascar and Formula 1 races before. Yawn. Lots of rednecks drinking beer and eating fried chicken. Whooping and hollering for Junior. You can keep it. But this 325-mph stuff? All kinds of cool.

We left Saturday morning around 8 a.m. - and got to the track before 11. We only stayed until 3 o'clock or so, because the traffic would have been horrendous otherwise, but ... we will be going back. If you like speed, this is the stuff. It blew me away.

---

Sunday I started working out again. I need to lose 10 lbs so that the Hotfessional wardrobe doesn't need to be replaced. In April, 2003, I started doing "The Firm". I went from a size 12 to a size 6 over the next 6 months. I started eating smarter, and worked out 5-6 times/week. Even with my travel schedule, I kept up with it. And pretty much kept off the weight and bought a bunch of new clothes.

And then, somehow, after we moved into this house last year, I started slacking off. And then, this past spring, I simply got so freaking bored with it all, and I was tired of getting home and changing into workout clothes and going down to the 'House of Pain' (the basement) and then by the time I was finished? Dark outside. I felt like I never got to see the sun. I was seriously feeling deprived, and wanted to work in my garden. So, I hung up the DVDs and decided to take a couple of months off.

Unfortunately, my body didn't like that I was taking time off. Ewww, and it's short & tank top weather. The flabby arms and cellulite and belly hanging over my low-rise shorts were. grossing. me. out. So, I worked out yesterday for an hour. Today? Can't fucking move. But I know it will be worth it.

---

Shortman came home yesterday. He termed his week with 5 cousins (aged 18 to 3) as "an adventure." The three youngest absolutely adore him. The 10-year-old, who has some developmental problems, kept Shortman hopping. He so wants to be "grown up", and he has some interesting ways of proving that he's "big".

First, he assumed that Shortman's toothpaste was shaving gel, and proceeded to get a razor from someplace and, using toothpaste, shaved. The mess was, according to Shortman, nothing less than spectacular. No injuries, thank goodness, but the 10-year-old was certainly going to impress upon his cousin just how mature he is.

Another incident involved a different toothpaste. When the 13-year-old (girl) punched the 10-year-old in the nose (this is why I stopped at one child you'all, I knew that I couldn't stand the kind of drama that surrounds my sister), the 10-year-old decided that he needed some extra sympathy. Up to the bathroom, a squirt of Close-up (red) toothpaste into the nostril....and voila! a bloody nose, courtesy of his mean sister.

How do you not laugh at that? That is some creative shit!

---

---- D-day ended up being last Friday. Nearly 200 people that I knew and worked with lost their jobs. It's just too depressing to talk about. Maybe later. ----