And This is Why Men and Women Cannot be Friends in a Crisis!

There has been much debate over the years whether men and women can truly be friends -- many citing negative indications having their root in sexual tensions.  I've never bought into this premise; I frankly have a number of male friends -- a few of which I count amongst my BFFs -- and the only tension we encounter is when they need help moving or they want me to actually travel somewhere to meet them for dinner or drinks.  I mean, obviously that's not gonna happen!

However, today I discovered definitive proof that a real friendship between the sexes is simply not possible because men lack a basic understanding of what is important.  Naturally, I discovered it via text message because I don't like to actually speak directly TO other people if at all possible.  So in the interest of science, I submit to you definitive evidence:

Me:  Accckkkkttt!

Me:  F$&@#%¥*!!!!!!!!

Me: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Kevin:  Problem?

Me:  Shit!  Shit!  Shit!  I think I left my comb in the hotel in DC!!!!  OMFG!  What am I going to do now?

Kevin:  ?

Me:  WTF do you mean, ?  I can't find my comb Kevin!  I can't comb my damn hair!  I'm going to get dreadlocks!!!!

Kevin:  Don't you have another comb?

Me:  WHAT?!  I can't use another comb!  I've had this comb since college!  This comb effin moved with me to the middle east! It survived Africa and the Iraq war Kevin!  That combs a god-damned hero!!!  You should be thankful to that comb, it fought for your freedom.

Kevin:  Are you having a stroke?

Me:  Maybe!  This is horrible!!

Me:   Shit!  I'm supposed to give that presentation to that college in San Diego tomorrow!  I'm obviously
going to have to cancel now.  I can't represent the USG with crazy hair!  Wait, California is really casual.  Do you think I could wear a hat?

Kevin:  Probably not appropriate.

Me:  But it's after Memorial Day.

Kevin:  What does that mean?

Me:  What is wrong with you?  What do you mean what does that mean?  There are RULES about Memorial Day Kev, things are allowed to be more casual after Memorial Day.  How the hell can you not know about this?!?!  Without Rules our whole society breaks down Kevin!

Kevin:  Seriously, I think you are having a stroke.  Maybe you should call 911

Me:  Dude, you gotta go right now to the Marriott where I was staying and see if they have my comb!

Kevin:  Yeah, I'm probably not going to do that...

Me:  Ugh!  You're right.  You know some thieving maid got her grubby paws on it by now.  I wonder if its on eBay?  I should google that shit.  But first, I should call the professor to tell him I'm not gonna make it tomorrow.

Kevin:  You can't seriously be thinking of canceling your presentation.  What the hell would you tell him?

Me:  I'd tell him that I EFFING LOST MY COMB!  What the hell else would I tell him?  NORMAL people understand the strategic implications here.

Me:  I'm not sure why you are being so hateful right now.

Kevin:  JUST GET ANOTHER COMB!  You're a god-damned nut job!!

Me:  GASP!?

Me:  How DARE you!?  I can't just get another comb!  They don't make this comb anymore!  I've tried to get another comb you ass!!!  If it were possible to get another comb do you think I would have this spare drawer of 72 other combs that DON'T WORK RIGHT?

Kevin:  Don't work right?  It's a COMB!  They comb!  What the hell else do they do?!  Jesus!  How on earth do you still walk among the normal people?!?

Me: I can't even talk to you about this! You're being irrational!

Kevin:  Oh for God's sake.  Please just call Liz.

Me:  I will.  SHE understands.

Kevin:  Thank you.  TTYL

Me:  Maybe.  I need to think about the efficacy of our continued friendship.

Kevin:  Whatever! You'll be back the next time you think the lady at the Smoothie place purposefully put bananas in your smoothie because she knows you hate them.

Me:  SHE DOES! She's a total biatch!  She just doesn't like to do special orders!!!

Kevin:  You should steal her comb.  Then leave a note that says, "You know what you did."

Me:  I forgive you.

Surprise!!! ( But not the Good Kind....)

This morning Dillon and I came home from our morning hike and I noticed something truly frightening!  Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a kinda slow moving light colored rodent scurry/saunter across the hallway and then under the couch.  Naturally, my keen self-defense instincts kicked in and I immediately froze in place and stared fixedly at the location.  Because I'm not stupid, I totally knew that the slow saunter it used to get under said couch was a well-thought out trap to lull me into thinking it was not a threatening rodent-like creature, but was rather a sleepy non-threatening monster sent by nature to inspect my furniture placement choices -- and was also likely under some sort of California State Law protecting its right to claim my couch as its natural habitat.

While I stood there frozen, I carefully considered my options and came to the obvious conclusion that I needed to burn down the house.   Cursing my inability to take up smoking and my subsequent lack of a fire starting utensil, I had to go to Plan B....send in Dillon to kill/scare/snuggle the creature.  Not wanting to unnecessarily cause Dillon to panic, I suggested he go "get on the couch and watch TV!"  Obviously, the option to watch TV is always the preferred choice and Dillon headed unknowingly toward the couch...

I'll admit I did have a small twinge of guilt for sending Dillon in unprepared, but that quickly passed when I remembered how Sunday was mother's day -- and also my birthday -- and Dillon didn't get me shit!  Sure, it could be that he doesn't know how to use the internet and/or that he has bad credit and, therefore, doesn't have a credit card because he's a dog -- but I think we all know it's really because he's an asshole.  So I let him go -- you know what you did Dillon!

So Dillon is heading toward the couch clearly thinking of how great it will be to watch re-runs of Animal Hoarders on DVR -- when out of the corner of his eye, he spots the vacuum that I had gotten out with the intention of actually using, but you know what they say about intentions....(let's just say my road to hell is now a four lane highway!)  So Dillon proceeded to do what he always does -- he freaked the hell out and ran into the bathroom to hide in the shower -- which is apparently the only place in the house that is safe from vacuums/sheets/recycling/garbage bags/dust-mops -- you know, all the things that would kill you if given the chance.. --  leaving ME all alone to face the monster that dwells under the couch!

Seriously Dillon??  WHEN has the damn vacuum EVER attacked you?  NEVER you jackass!

I stood there for a few more minutes waiting to see if it would attack, but then remembered that I had not had my cup of coffee yet - which totally trumps nature, FYI -- so I'm working up the nerve to make my way past the couch toward the coffee pot when I notice ANOTHER slow-moving animal coming from around the corner...and it was coming right for me! But slowly...really slowly.  So slowly that I yelled at it to hurry the hell up and get under the couch because I need some damn coffee! -- WTF nature!?  RUDE!!   So anyway, as it gets closer I realize that it's not a couch monster - it's a damn tumbleweed of Dillon hair!  AND, we weren't being invaded, we were just living in a dog-hair infested hovel because I never actually used said killer vacuum.  So the lesson here is that I apparently need to: (a) wear my glasses so I can actually see shit; and (b) vacuum the damn house.

So you may have noticed that I haven't been here -- or if you clicked on this link accidentally, just hit the back button...you'll be back to your perusal of catswholooklikehitler.com in no time.  However, if you were actually wondering; well, wonder no more.

I've moved to California!  Specifically, the OC!  Or, as my father likes to call it, "the land of fruits and nuts."  Which, before you get all Judge Judy on him, it's not an insult according to the people in his head.  Remember that he's from a different time--a time when life was simple and both racism and smoking was cool.  Back in his day, you walked to school barefoot; uphill, both ways -- and if you were not married at age 25, you were a spinster.  The outside was your garbage can, freedom wasn't free and jokes were never funny.

Not much has changed.

There are some downsides to living in CA; most notably that I really don't fit in and the smarties in Washington don't think I "need" diplomatic immunity.  I contend that if there ever was a location where the USG has posted me, I'm pretty sure CA is where immunity is needed the most!  First, I'm not really what anyone would call "caring" or "Eco-friendly."  And, I'm not healthy -- at least the CA definition of healthy.  I like beer, I like vodka, and I'm pro red meat.  Early on when I first moved here, I went out to dinner with some ladies from my hood, and by hood, I mean our small subdivision with the ocean views and roving security patrols in case poor people get in and try to look at our view.  The waiter brought the menus and I shit you not, the discussion went like this:

Buffy:  misquellen, I'm thinking I'm going to be bad today and get the fish taco appetizer!  We girls gotta live a little, don't we!?  Would you like to split them with me?

Me:  (horrified silence...did she say split?)

Anjelica:  Buffy! Her name is not misquellen, it's Miguel. Miggie, I'm going to get the goat cheese plate.  Would you like to split that with me?

Me: (the people in my head are going ape-shit!  Are they seriously going to split 2 small appetizers for their dinner for 4 people?!?  Who the hell is Miggie!?)

Buffy:  Oh sorry Manuel!  I'm so bad with names!  Hey!  I have an AMAZING idea, lets get both and just serve them family style!  Should we be bad and get a glass of wine?  I already had a sugar-free vanilla latte this morning!

Me:  (seriously?  am I giving off the latino vibe today?  Is my peasant shirt that authentic?)

Me:  I'll have a kettle one martini, extra dirty.  Wait!  Double.  I'll have a double.

(What?  I wasn't driving!  And I didn't have a sugar-free vanilla latte!)

I also do not share the state's apparent love for all God's creatures.  My love, if you will, is more shall we say, selective!!  Along the trail where I take Dillon on his daily hikes are signs noting how the trails are the "natural habitat of the rattlesnake" and how I need to respect their right to live and not disturb them.

 What. The. Fuck.  California!?!  I'll admit I scoffed at your assertion that coyotes are protected, not flea-ridden, rabies toting, kitten killers as I initially pointed out....but snakes?  I'm pretty sure even
God is on my side on this one.  They should be killed on principle!  They'd kill us if they could.


The above notwithstanding, I can say that I do love living in CA.  I'm in the land where the Cougar was invented and where there are blow-out super sales on cosmetic procedures!  I have about 2 years to learn how to mingle with the liberals -- keeping my work for the USG on the down-low because here, it's like admitting you enjoy kicking kittens.

Reposted: It was Like That One Movie about the Cuban Missle Crisis, Only More Exciting...and it Pretty Much Ended in Two Hours...Which Is Waay Better.

I was asked to send this post to a friend on Facebook, but I couldn't figure out how to link the stupid thing, so am just reposting and telling them to job open the blog and it should be on top...I'm a damn problem solver!!!  (IF, by "problem solver " you mean makes shit needlessly more complicated for myself, then yes!  that's totally me!!)

=======================================================

Okay, so today I sat through a 2.5 hour meeting -- which normally would put me over the edge and force me to verbally abuse the office intern for not knowing in advance that they should be on standby to interrupt any meeting where I might potentially be getting bored -- But I shouldn't have to TELL THEM when they need to show up.

It's an internship!! There is a reason we don't pay you (because you could probably sue me).

Anyway, so this meeting was like edge of your seat diplomacy!!! There was action, there was adventure..there were donuts.   Everything you need to brew up some sort of international incident.  HOWEVER, this time it was not an incident of my making...

Okay, so NO SHIT! There we were.  Sitting in the most importanty of importanty conference rooms (that I'm allowed to use) for what will undoubtedly be the most crucial meeting of the year (for our intern).  So a team of crack diplomats from Team America are meeting with an unnamed (you have to wait for the movie) foreigners talking about issues that are on the cutting edge of our national policy and/or security!!! (I'm not trying to be coy with that one -- I just honestly wasn't paying attention and have no idea why we were meeting with these people....)

So, naturally, because I'm a "seasoned leader" I realized that I am likely not qualified to actually speak for the USG in an official capacity -- So I ensured that the smart people were there to answer the questions after I finished pontificating.   So we're about halfway through the meeting and I am mentally congratulating myself for yet another international incident free day when the translator asks the Big Wig Foreigner (BWF) for clarification on what he means.  SUDDENLY, one of the USG smarty-pants leans in to clarify what he thinks the foreigner means (because that is always helpful!  Almost like when we lecture them on their culture and stuff...) and -- as if in slow-motion footage -- he lets out the most horrendous fart!!

I dont' even know how to describe it.  It started as kind of a high pitched whine and then ended with what sounded like rapid gunfire -- but only echo-ey (because we're in the big, marble, importanty conference room.   In the initial moments following the incident, the room was eerily silent -- as we all sat there wondering what the hell we were supposed to do now?

I mean, the international diplomacy handbook did not cover this type of situation, and I gotta be honest -- I was SERIOUSLY DYING.  I was literally experiencing physical pain trying to not only hold it together and not burst out laughing (because honestly...is there EVER a time when a fart is not funny?? EVER??  I submit to you, there is NOT!), but I was also trying to stop my body from erupting into the internal-hold-in-your-laughter convulsions.  In fact, I think I might have actually hurt myself -- my throat is STILL sore.

Anyway, following the initial blast and horrified silence -- the translator looked around -- as if he were trying to determine whether he should translate that; AND, if so...how the hell do you say that in Arabic!  The offender, whom we now call, "Gassy McPoopshispants" just kinda smirked and shrugged -- although he might have apologized, but i had to rapidly look away in order to control my impending outburst.

As I'm searching the room for somewhere to look -- the more junior members of the foreign delegation looked down at their notebooks, clearly a victim of the diplomatic shock and awe campaign.  However, the senior official looked me straight in the eye, cocked his head, and lifted one brow.  I gotta admit...at that point, I almost lost it.

Well played, foreign man...well played.

So I stared at the donuts in order to salvage any semblance of maturity left in me...And then I totally noticed that there was only one chocolate cream filled kind left.  And I could tell the intern was eyeing it.  THIS SOBERED ME RIGHT UP..and quickly!!

Distracted, I was able to move through the incident...however, after I finished my chocolate donut (ha HA intern!!) my glance fell upon the perpetrator of the incident.  We made eye contact.  It all came back....

In what was obviously a flash of genius, I interrupted the proceedings to suggest a "smoke break" (foreigners like to smoke -- Thank GOD!)  and the entire entourage leaped up and headed for the elevator.

As the doors closed, we all turned as one and looked at the perpetrator... and literally, lost it!  At one point, I put my head down on the table and cried -- I was laughing that hard!!!

Eventually, the foreigners returned and they calmly resumed the meeting.

My only regret:  I should have sent the translator withthem so he could tell us how hard THEY were laughing once they managed to get away from us.

However, rest assured, I have once again ensured that the US of A is safe for democracy!