Category Archives: Whine(o)

The business of travel

By nopasanada | Published: August 6, 2007

First off: Y’all are awesome and so willing to share. Thank you.

Second: Behold the powers of my laziness. I’m a cross-posting machine.

Third: Please read this. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you might piss your pants in front of several elected officials.

“Men for the sake of getting a living forget to live.” ~Margaret Fuller

At my former place of employment I did a lot of scheduling and booked a lot of travel. Sometimes to places that I wanted to visit like Jackson Hole or Italy and other times to less extravagant places like some random city in Ohio or the always exciting Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. I would get jealous of course, when it came to the trips to Juneau or Florence because I’ve always wanted to travel to Juneau or Florence and wouldn’t it be glorious to get to do so for BUSINESS?? I wanted to travel for work. I was bored and restless and thought that some travel would do me good. Now would be an excellent time to become delirious with laughter because apparently when I had these thoughts I was either drunk or high. Or both.

A few weeks ago, I happened upon this post from Pink Lemonade Diva in regards to a quick business trip she had to take, while the soon to be Mr. PLD travels several times a month:

People who don’t travel for work think that traveling for work is alluring. I’m one of those people. We hear Jim’s stories about trips to Ireland, Holland, Puerto Rico, and think “how cool” without noticing that he’s not tan. He’s Diamond, Platinum, Preferred and I don’t know what else. He’s in a hotel rewards program for people who have stayed in the hotel at least 75 nights in one calendar year. That’s not alluring – that’s annoying

Because there was a time when business travel looked sexy and there was something about expensing a few nights at the Fairmont or a Kimpton property – with FREE bonus happy hours – would be wonderful. I would could write off meals in fantastic cities while earning bonus frequent flyer miles. Let it be known that I moved in May and since May I have managed to earn three Southwest travel awards, 12 drink coupons, and I keep all of my liquids in a 3oz container or less inside of a quart sized bag. I’ve learned the art of removing my belt and getting it back on once through security quickly enough to then get my shoes on without exposing my ass to those in Security line 3. I can pack 9 days worth of clothing in a carryon. I rock.

I love my job. I love my job more than anything and it’s the perfect job for a 20-something who is young and has drive and has no problem waking up in the middle of the night not knowing where exactly she is. I don’t have a family or any real responsibilities I only have to worry about myself thus business travel is easy for someone like me. Yet my youth still leaves much to be desired because I still get tired, weepy and cranky. I can’t handle 7 AM flights and my arm is starting to hurt from dragging that damn suitcase/computer bag around (P.S. Macbooks, while lovely aren’t exactly light) around and maybe one day, I’d like to actually unpack. I’ve heard good things about padded hangers and would love to be able to use mine.

After August 12 I get to spend two entire weeks at home. I might take a day trip or two. But will most likely catch up on sleeping in my own bed, where I know that Dateline won’t be able to find anything mysterious with a black light. All I’m saying is that for two blissful weeks I get to be at home. I’ll make good use of my gym membership and God willing, I’ll actually unpack because there’s something about having to step over a rather large suitcase every time I want to go from one side of my room to the other. The other day it was my big toe versus a stray high heel. Guess which won.

Also posted in BlogHer, Mmhmm That's Right | 12 Comments

Because sometimes I don’t want to be notified of “FREE PORN” every 12 seconds

By nopasanada | Published: June 13, 2007

“I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind.
Some come from ahead and some come from behind.
But I’ve bought a big bat. I’m all ready you see.
Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!”
~Dr. Seuss

Being one of those “I have such good intentions, but fuck me, the intentions are like my red carpet to hell” people, I’m always ‘really trying’ to do something.

Which explains why this morning when I intended to wake at 6 to use the elliptical, I literally rolled over and put my head at the foot of the bed, next to a random pillow and the ring that I’ve been looking for, for the past week and a half. When I politely asked my mother when she would be ready so that we could stop at Dunkin Donuts on the way to the office, she bellowed back something about ‘being ready when she’d be ready’.

I then kindly suggested possibly streamlining her morning routine, which involves sponges and serums and maybe a quick eyebrow pluck and spending five hours meticulously applying lotion. Because lord forbid, that spot on her inner arm is not adequately moisturized.

I’ve been dependent on her driving me to work because my car is apparently in body shop hell and will not be coming out anytime before my 30th birthday. And ‘it’s not her problem’.

Oh and then we went to work. TOGETHER.

I started The Arbitrarian at 9 in hopes of having it done before noon. But was derailed by some asshole whose blog came with bonus pop up ads. And doesn’t everyone want to start their day with Anna Nicole having lesbian sex with a brunette? If so, I can tell you exactly where to go.

Then I had to keep myself together while I compiled a laundry list of things to discuss with someone and the hour at which that person would be leaving until next week, slowly crept up. I had to shut my office door and listen to ‘Dirty Diana’ seven times while my bottom lip quivered.

It’s either Wednesday, thereby destined to be a shitty day or someone’s Klonopin isn’t doing it’s job. I’m going for the latter.

Posted in Whine(o) | 6 Comments

A minor case of homesickness

By nopasanada | Published: May 20, 2007

“Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.” ~Charles Dickens

Before offering to pass me a joint, Neil asked how Upstate is treating me. It’s treating me like it’s red headed bastard stepchild who stole the neighbor’s 16-year-old son’s virginity after filling him up with Magic Hat and shots of vodka. I’ve already been in a car accident and from what I understand there are points involved and an increase in insurance and this must be the result of sleeping with the above 16 year old.

And with that, I made an impromptu meeting/overnight trip to DC – at my old office building which probably doesn’t help with the whole separation thing. During which I did my most favorite activity: randomly ringing people’s doorbells and just showing up; which is just something that I do. Only to be showered with hugs and baby kisses and wine and possibly singing selections from Rent. And perhaps a vodka tonic or two.

And it was all so, so good.

But since then – yesterday – I keep waking up and forgetting where I am and where I’m supposed to be. Though there’s something to be said for having two residences and two beds of my very own. I woke up from a nap this afternoon and briefly contemplated getting up to finish packing because I had to have a flight or something to catch to somewhere because I don’t actually LIVE here. But I do live here. In a small town where there are Targets everywhere but no Sephora and with my mother. But where things are significantly cheaper and when the washing machine starts dumping water all over the place, my father can be right over.

Yet it still doesn’t feel like home.

Posted in Whine(o) | 7 Comments

Just like death and taxes

By nopasanada | Published: April 17, 2007

“I personally believe we developed language because of our deep inner need to complain.” ~Jane Wagner

Right around this time last year I wrote these two gems. Both were my way of putting my anger and disdain into fine literary prose, peppered with the word ‘fuck’ a few dozen times just for good measure and dramatic affect. I wanted those around me and visiting and breathing the same oxygen in this tiny nation’s capitol of ours to understand the basic principles of dealing with several thousand smart Type A personalities, as every year we Washingtonians deal with the same shit and frankly, something needed to be said. I wanted them to understand that if you get on our nerves we will have no choice but to shove you down the White Flint metro escalator. And do y’all know how long that sucker is?

Which leads me to this morning when I took an impromptu trip on the metro. In a perfectly fine/excited/anxious mood but good nonetheless; that is until I encountered the first set of escalators. I wanted to walk up on the LEFT side but could I? Of course not, because standing on the RIGHT side would really be too much of a hassle. No, no, please do take up the entire escalator with your fabulous Jordache fanny pack and I’ll just stand here and smile and wait while you enjoy all that DC has to offer.

On the first escalator, “Please move over” I said it nicely, yet with an air of authority which says that I live here and you are totally just not following the rules, but I understand. The offending party quickly moved.

On the second escalator, they were just STANDING. Just standing still acting like they didn’t have a care in the world. And given the surly mood I find myself in without some good old fashioned medication, I did as any average PMSing female would do: “STAND on one side, WALK on the other. Why is this so difficult for you?” Then shoved my way through, huffing and puffing, with a trail of angry turistas behind me yelling that they were in fact tourists and/or new. Maybe I didn’t get that memo from the way they just take up all the damn space on the little tiny escalator.

Later was free cone day. And oh my lord, don’t get me started. But there’s nothing like a line of children under the age of 7 screaming about ice cream and generally flailing themselves around, that will force a woman to seriously contemplate tubal ligation.

Posted in Whine(o) | 4 Comments

Par for the course

By nopasanada | Published: March 25, 2007

“Drag your thoughts away from your troubles… by the ears, by the heels, or any other way you can manage it.” ~Mark Twain

To say that I’ve been in a bad, bad mood as of late would be like saying that today is March 25th, 2007 and it is quite sunny: Stating the fucking obvious. Though I feel I’m preternaturally laden with an awful attitude, I can usually just get over it, but I find that increasingly difficult to do while systematically having your soul sucked out of you for eight weeks straight. Hell, I’m surprised I still have the ability to FEEL without crumbling into a heap of ash and dust.

“But, Heather, why don’t you do anything to make yourself feel better and change the fact that you spent an inordinate amount of time wishing you could remove your eyeballs with a rusty, tetanus riddled spoon?”

Well, hell, why hadn’t I thought of that really easy and simple solution? Or perhaps, I have thought of that really easy and simple solution and yet the ease and simplicity are greatly lacking. Which leaves me to wonder if it’s just me and something I’m doing wrong or maybe I just don’t deserve it. I do not know.

What I do know is that going to bed two nights in a row at 7:30PM only to wake up at 8 AM and lay in bed because I am tired strikes me as somewhat of a problem and inhibiting on any life that involves walking out of my front door and maybe I should just stay in and watch more Borat. Though when I did walk out of my front door yesterday afternoon, with the clouds and the rain and the man who tried to run me over with his Hummer, I complained that it was too bright. Did I mention the clouds and the rain??

Like I said, I’ve been surly at best.

All of this suffering has led me to believe that a) Maybe it’s a sign that it’s high time that I do actually find out what real suffering is about, b) Maybe I should try harder but dude, the trying is getting a little frustrating and vexing C) that I deserve a little something – that isn’t fermented – to ease the pain.