Considering a haircut.

Posted on by lindsay
I just returned from a particularly disturbing trip to the bathroom, where I was instantly disheartened with one glimpse of my poufy, frizzy hair. "Okay," I moaned to my coworker. "My hair really does need to be addressed.""You know, they make frizz control products," he replied."But they make my hair flat!"A disdainful look followed. "That would be the idea."

I cried at my desk today.

Posted on by lindsay
Before you start assuming that I was being a "typical female" who cried after a silly dispute with a coworker or a reprimand from her boss, let me stop you. I don't cry in those situations; I just go home, crack open a keg, and forget about my day. And my name. The reason for my tears was a far more desolate moment: I was forced to discuss the Twilight Zone episode "Time Enough At Last" with my coworker and boss.In case you are unaware, this is the plot of the episode:"Henry Bemis can never find the time to read. He can't read at home or at work because both his wife and boss think reading is a waste of time. At one point his wife, as a cruel joke, asks Henry to read her poems from a book. He is very pleased that she has asked him to do ...continue reading.

Ring of Fire

Posted on by lindsay
On any ordinary work day, there are a number of people in my office who answer the company phone. There's an actual person who is assigned to answer the phone when he is present and not otherwise occupied, and when he is not around, somebody else usually picks up the phone. In my three months of working here, that person has been me only a handful of times, each of which resulted in mild panic as I tried to determine what to do with the caller. I'd leap up from my desk, run into my coworkers office, gasp that so-and-so was calling for so-and-so, and then beg for instructions on how to respond.In the past few weeks, I have gotten better at learning how to handle calls, but nothing had prepared me for today. I got to work and looked at the interoffice calendar, only to discover that I would ...continue reading.

Small Talk

Posted on by lindsay
My coworker, on her dogs:"When they come back inside all wet and I get the hairdryer out, they push and fight to get blown first.""During the whole six weeks of diarrhea, I had to constantly clean his butt after he pooped. But he loved it; I'd call out "Butt rub!" and he'd come running over."

Bringing Crazy Back

Posted on by lindsay
In an attempt to make the people around me apprehensive that I may try to kill them unexpectedly, I've been tampering with my antidepressant medication. I'd originally reached a happy place with my daily dosage, a sunny spot that allowed me to take things like getting run over with a dump truck in stride. But then about a month ago, I ran out of pills unexpectedly (well, as unexpectedly as you'd expect when you watch the number in the bottle dwindle but are too lazy to call in a refill) and by the time the new bottle arrived in the mail, it had been over a week since my last dose. And then, although I started right back up again, I had to battle through the side effects that I'd dealt with initially, side effects that became so annoying that I have quit taking the medication entirely. Now I just ...continue reading.

Putting The Lag In Goal

Posted on by lindsay
When I first left law school last September, I did so with the unwavering intention of returning this upcoming fall. It's law school, I reasoned, and it's been my dream and my sole motivation for years now.Unfortunately, I then remembered that it sucked.I have since decided that I will not being going to law school anymore. There are a number of boring logistical reasons as to why law school is just not practical at this point, but the biggest reason is that I just don't think I will be happy as a lawyer. I'd have to wear nylons everyday, and that just does not work for me. They make my feet sweat.All kidding aside, I've come to the realization that I want things out of life that being a lawyer can't provide. When I was younger, I wanted to be a marine biologist or a divemaster or a food critic. ...continue reading.