Quote of the Afternoon…

The best part of having shallow friends is that you know you’re pretty, because if you weren’t, they’d never be seen with you in public…

Aieeee

By the way, for those keeping tabs; It’s been over 24 hours and I still can’t get the Poo Song out of my head.

That Great Might Poo has some serious sticking power…

The Joys of Being a Front Desk Receptionist

I work as a receptionist at the front desk for a very large title company. You know; mortgages and stuff like that. We have closings in our office from time to time. Today there are three on our floor. A[n extremely unattractive] woman came up to my desk and said she was “here for a closing”, and then proceeded to rattle off a whole list of names of people who were meant to be in the closing; none of whom are actually employees of the company, so I didn’t recognise a single name. I asked her if she knew who was holding the closing so I could call them for her and she rudely replied [as if I were asking some crazy, outlandishly presumptuous question] that she had no idea who the closer was. Um…. okay? I then told her the three names of the people who are having closings this afternoon. She continued to gape at me blankly as if I were an idiot. I then started calling closers willy-nilly, and when I reached one of their assistants, “Beth”, I explained our little dilemma. She immediately told me she’d be right up to help me sort it out, bless her. The client was no nicer to poor Beth than she was to me. Needless to say, Beth didn’t have much more luck figuring out where Ms. Pleasant was supposed to be than I did, especially since every suggestion she made in the hopes of earning a lightbulb “Aha! Yes that’s the one!” response was instead met with a rude, “I don’t know!” Well I was a bit distracted by other receptionist duties while Beth played the process of elimination game, but eventually I think she narrowed it down and the two walked away in the direction of the meeting rooms as Ms. Pleasant scoffed in condescending incredulity something along the lines of “I’ve never heard of anybody not knowing…” though her voice trailed off in the echoey elevator lobby before I could hear the end of her sentence.

Well lady; I know where I’m supposed to be…. Beth knows where she’s supposed to be… Seems you’re the only genius here who doesn’t know jack, and you’ve got the nerve to snipe at us? Way to go someplace and have no idea what you’re doing and where you’re going! [Note: I realise the aforementioned fact that she was excessively unattractive is technically irrelevant to the situation, but… I thought it was noteworthy nonetheless.] [Not to mention her outfit made it look like Dolores Umbridge’s closet threw up on her. *gag*]

After depositing Ms. Sunshine in her respective meeting room, Beth returned to my desk on her way back to her cubicle and asked “Was she being a really big [fill in the blank] to you too?” I just gave her the wry “mmmmmm hmmmmm” smirk and rolled my eyes, thanking her earnestly for her help as she rounded the corner.

As long as I’m complaining about the quirks of the job…

When you answer phones all day you develop very specific pet peeves about it…. Like people launching into a big long explanation about why they’re calling immediately after you’ve answered, not letting you get so much as a single peep in until after they’ve finished their entire 10 minute spiel. Whoa, buddy, I don’t really care to hear about your life story; I’m just the receptionist. All I can help you with is a transfer to the right department and a wholly insincere “have a nice day.” I can’t look up your case number, I can’t fax you your paperwork and I haven’t got have a clue what those technical terms mean, now for Heaven’s sake be quiet so I can transfer you already!

Also annoying are people who ask you “how are you doing?” before introducing themselves. It always catches me comletely off guard… This isn’t a personal call, buddy! It’s just so awkward. And there are two different types of “how are you doing?” callers: The first type is that guy who asks and then waits– however long it takes– for you to respond before proceeding with the conversation. This is highly irritating when all you’re trying to do is hurry up and process the call as quickly and efficiently as possible. Especially when you’ve got a switchboard lit up like a Christmas tree and three people waiting at your desk to talk to you and the FedEx guy waiting for you to let him in the back door to deliver packages to the mail room and several inter-office ims flashing on the bottom of your screen, and ol’ boy on the phone’s trying to have a heart to heart with you– “how are you doing?”??

Type two is the guy that asks and then doesn’t even pretend to wait for you to respond. Why even bother? It’s infinitely more rude to ask and blatenly not care than to not ask at all… Really we’d just rather you not ask at all.

There is a time and a place for everything, people. Next time you speak with a receptionist on the telephone, don’t ask her how she’s doing. We both know you couldn’t care less about how I’m doing. And I sure as heck don’t care about how you’re doing, so don’t expect me to ask “…and you?” Is it just me that thinks it’s unprofessional all together? Okay, I’m not nearly as bent out of shape over this as I sound, but I’ve had several more “how are you” guys today than normal .

Then there are the people who call in with horribly quiet phones, or unbelievably bad reception. And then they get mad at me when I can’t hear or understand what they’ve asked for and need them to repeat it. Look, buddy; it’s not MY fault I can’t hear you over the deafening roar of static on your broke-a** phone, where the heck are you even calling me from, Timbuktu?!

The next type of caller is my least favourite of all: the unprepared caller. You can always tell who these ones are immediately. From the very first syllable she utters in that distracted, space-cadet tone of hers, you instantly know you’re in for a conversation that will more than likely take at least twice as long as it ought to, neither of you will have gained anything from the conversation at all by the time it’s over because she’s a total air head and your clairvoyance skills aren’t what they used to be, and you’ll probably hang up the phone feeling infinitely less intelligent than you were when you picked it up several minutes earlier. [Note: The unprepared caller isn’t always an air head… intelligent people get distracted/forgetful too… but that doesn’t make these types of calls any less excruciating.] The unprepared caller is that person who, when you’ve prompted her with your standard über-cheery “Good afternoon, thank you for calling _________, how may I help you?” she responds with “……………Hi…..ummm….” (perhaps distracted as she scrifts around for a pen in her luggage-sized purse, or is attempting to maneouver her school bus-sized suv as she takes the kids to soccer practise, or perhaps she’s at her desk trying to get some work done and doesn’t realise that her multi-tasking skills are simply abominable) “…yeah I’m looking for….um…..” Do I need to remind you of the Christmas tree switchboard, three clients, FedEx man and handfull of unanswered im’s flashing their little hearts out for attention…? Yeah.

Listen, lady; You’re the one that called me, remember? Not the other way around. And yet here we are and you’re completely caught off guard and can’t tell me who you are, what you’re calling for and with whom you’d like to speak. Stop wasting both of our time: hang up the phone, finish whatever it is you’re doing and call me back in a few minutes when you’ve got your act together.

I think you get the point. (I still attest to the fact that I am not nearly as surly about these things as I’ve made myself sound, mind you…) I could probably come up with a million more things that I adore about being a receptionist, but… I’ll spare you. I think that was a sufficient amount of venting. I feel much relieved.

me: This post is taking forever to write

me: I keep getting interrupted.

Jellybean: more poo?

me: nah, it’s about my job this time lol

Jellybean: lol your job is interrupting your blogging about your job!

me: don’t you love the irony?

The Great Mighty Poo

Of all the songs to have stuck in my head (ALL morning)…. I cannot, for the life of me, stop singing the The Great Mighty Poo song. If you’ve never played Conker’s Bad Fur Day you probably have no idea what I’m talking about and think I’m totally nuts. If you HAVE played CBFD…. you’re probably laughing right now. Or at least chuckling…. And hopefully now you’ve got the song in your head too. It’s an extremely catchy lil’ ditty if I do say so myself…

The first verse goes a little something like this:

I am the great mighty poo
and I’m going to throw my shit at you.
A huge supply of thish
comes from my chocolate star fish.
How about some scat you little twat?

Conker’s is one of the best video games of all time. He’s a squirrel, a red squirrel, and the premise of the game is that he got wasted one night and got lost and is now trying to make his way home (or something along those lines), and a long, perilous journey it is. (Needless to say; this is not a G-Rated game.) The Great Mighty Poo is one of the first baddies he has to fight, and as his name indicates, the Great Mighty Poo is a giant blob of poo… And… he sings… opera. Oh yeah and he throws balls of poo at you throughout his delightful little aria. I highly recommend watching the video. It’s pretty great. I just wish the darn song wasn’t stuck in my head. Too much of a good thing, ya know?

The Great Mighty Poo

I think the level in general, and this particular area/character are so thoroughly enjoyable to me mostly because as much as I’ve tried (yeah for some reason I actually tried… your guess is as good as mine as to why…), I can’t think of all the brown stuff that makes up the ceilings and walls and floors and general architecture/topography, and characters and the gooey brown stuff that drips from overhead (and injures you if you let it hit you) as poo. It’s always looked like chocolate, or fudge to me. The darn level actually makes me hungry! Think of it as fudge next time you play and you’ll see. It looks positively delicious! And the little squishy sounds Conker’s feet make when he walks on the stuff are infinitely more enjoyable when you imagine it as sticky gooey fudge!!

Anyhow, feces-inspired serenades aside; I finally made my very first foray into the glory that is Tres Leches Cake last night. (Nice transition there, eh?)

I’ve been dying for an excuse to make Tres Leches Cake for ages now, but the occasion just hasn’t come about until now. In case you’re unfamiliar with this little bit of confectionery Heaven, Tres Leches (Spanish for “Three Milks”) Cake is a lovely vanilla (sometimes sponge) cake that is saturated in a mixture of Sweetened Condensed, Evaporated and Whole Milk or Cream after baking, and then covered with something lovely and fluffy and white, i.e. meringue or whipped cream. (More in-depth explanation here.)

When I asked Jellybean what kind of dessert she wanted for her birthday, she said “surprise me.” Damnit. Not that I’m not creative and/or industrious enough to come up with my own ideas for original desserts, but… I wanted it to be spectacular, I wanted it to be over the top, I wanted it to be perfect for my Jellybean. Especially since this is the first time I’ll be properly feeding her… (I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to make her a meal!) So it was a lot of pressure… I actually did come up with a few good ideas, but I remembered her saying her mum was going to make her signature Tres Leches Cake which JB adores, but then it turned out her mum hadn’t made it after all (long story.) Ta daaaaaaaaaaa! My problem was solved! I no longer had the pressure of coming up with an awe-inspiring original dessert, and I finally had a golden opportunity to test out the dessert of all desserts that I had been dying to try! (Not to mention Jellybean seemed thoroughly pleased with the idea of getting her Birthday Tres Leches Cake after all.)

Now the only pressure I’ve got on me is to not muck up her mother’s recipe too much. That I can handle. As I said in my previous post; Beans has already graciously excused me for not being quite up to mom’s standards. I just hope all the extra TenderLovingCare (my favourite special ingredient) I’ve put into it will at least make it SORT of near mum’s standards…

So I made the cake last night which turned out moist and lovely and golden; I chose to go with a [round] spring form tin instead of a rectangular baking tin as the recipe called for… I have a thing for round cakes, I dunno…

The milk mixture was divine and quite frankly I could have just left it as-was and sipped it outta the mixing bowl straight… screw pouring it over the cake! Sweetened condensed milk is like liquid Heaven, man. If you’ve not had the pleasure of tasting it, I highly recommend it. (Not sipping it, though. Unless you’re a humming bird or something…)

So I managed to get almost all of the milk mixture into the cake with minimal leakage (springform pans leak; it’s not a design flaw, it’s just…. how they roll.) (No pun intended.) and the cake has been sitting in the fridge overnight for maximum absorption. The recipe calls for a whipped cream coating on the outside, instead of the popular meringue, which is lucky cuz I think I hate meringue (and so does JB.)

I had intentions of decorating the cake with edible flowers but the store was out, confound it. The rich, bright colours and exotic shapes of the flowers would have been perfect against the the crisp, clean, pure backdrop of the fluffy white cream… Perfect enough for me to run out to a few other stores after work today in the hopes of finding them before I have to be over at JB’s house at 7ish. If I can’t find ’em… well, I picked up a box of Rowentree Fruit Pastilles which are rather pretty as well, and I think I’ve still got several sprigs of fresh mint leaves lying around the kitchen somewhere. We shall see.

I’ve actually taken pictures of the preparation process throughout, and will post them shortly in case anyone is curious….

I also prepared the Macaroni and Cheese last night. It’s Martha Stewart’s recipe and oh my God is it good so far. I made the noodles and the cheese sauce and put them into the baking dish and it’s waiting for me in the fridge to bring it over to JB’s house to pop into the oven when I get there. Seriously I was so ready to just bring her the cheese sauce and pretend I had changed the menu to Cheese Soup instead and eat it straight. It’s that awesome. The recipe calls for mild white Cheddar and either Gruyere or Pecorino Romano. I opted for the Gruyere. *drool* Can’t wait to try it out tonight after it’s legitimately assembled and baked. I think JB and everyone else will be pleased.

: )

Cheesed to Meet You

http://www.gadling.com/2008/08/21/united-to-charge-for-meals-on-international-flights/

Does anyone happen to know where any of the obnoxious, over-paid airline CEOs live so we can egg their houses? Poopheads.  I won’t say anything else about the matter.  I was just hoping someone else would read the article and be irritated along with me.  I used to like United, too.  It was the only domestic airline I was fond of.  Meh.

Anywho, I’ve had my caffeine and have just finished the tedious project I was assigned this morning I am a relatively cappy hamper at this point.  There’s a Starbucks in my building’s lobby, so I popped down there on my break.

Now I’d like to take a moment to clarify my [all important] opinion of Starbucks [which I have lovingly dubbed, and shall henceforth be referred to in this blog as Starsucks and/or Starschmucks].

Over-roasted. Over-priced. And sorely over-rated.

I only ever go there when I have no other sensible/feasible option.  Starsucks is one of those irritating establisments that general society flocks to like the sheep they are.  (Pardon my callous cynisism here.)  I have a thing about yuppies.  And by “a thing” I simply mean that I don’t like them.  (The only thing worse than a yuppie is a wannabe yuppie.)  Starbucks is the epitome of a yuppie brand name.  Don’t try to deny it.

Ok I don’t hate the establishment of Starbucks, per se; in fact, going in there (assuming there aren’t 8,000,000 other people crammed in the store with me) is usually extremely pleasant.  I don’t know what they pay those people but it’s got to be good cuz they are some of the happiest, friendliest, most fun employees of the service industry that I have ever encountered.  And it doesn’t matter which location you go to–they’re ALL like that!  (Maybe they give them free coffee all day and so they’re all hopped up on caffeine…?  That’d certainly make me happy…) So my hat is off to Starbucks employees everywhere; they are pretty cool…

I just have an issue with any beverage that has more than 3 words in its name.  Iced grande caramel half-calf, skim, no whip chocolate mochaccinolattefrappe–what the hell is wrong with you people?? Is there even any room left in the cup for actual COFFee after you’ve put all that other shit in there??  And don’t you know there’s like, 5000 calories in every sip of that concoction you’re sucking on?  And what’s with the size names? Venti? Grande? Tall?  What ever happened to Small, Medium and Large?  I get the Grande… I get the Tall, even… But mistake me if I’m wrong–doesn’t Venti mean Twenty in Italian?  Is that ounces? Is there some other meaning for the word that my Italian 101 Prof failed to clarify?  Damn, man; just gimme the biggest cup you’ve got back there and fill it with some hot black coffee and a little sugar.  Please.

I almost turned around and back-handed a 13 year old girl in line behind me once for asking her friend what she could get that “doesn’t have any coffee in it.”  First of all; what in God’s name does a 13 year old need to be in Starbucks for anyway?  Second, why bother spending $9 on a Starbucks drink, honey, if it’s not even coffee related?  Go find a drinking fountain, damnit!  Maybe your mum who’s waiting for you outside of the store’s got a Juicy Juice in her purse for you…

I digress.  (It’s not easy to rile me up, but for some reason Starsucks makes the very short list of things that really gets me goin’. ) (No pun intended.)

Don’t even get me started on Dunkin’ Donuts. I’ll save that one for a rainy day…

On to my best friend, Jellybean.

No, her name isn’t actually Jellybean.  It’s not even her real nickname… But we both have dessert-inspired nicknames for each other, and when I asked her whether she preferred I keep her real name private on here she replied with an emphatic “yes”, as I knew she would (she’s got good reasons to do so), and I thought it only appropriate to come up with an equally cute sugary nickname alias.  So Jellybean it is.

This Sunday was Jellybean’s birthday, and as her present I will be making her favourite; home made baked macaroni and cheese from scratch for dinner on Wednesday.  It’ll be a nice little party, too, with her parents and brother and possibly aunt.  (I love JB’s family.)  Hopefully the festivities will make up for her lack of a proper birthday Sunday due to… well… a few obligations that she was less than pleased to have to deal with on her birthday of all days.  I will also be making a Tres Leches cake… her mother’s recipe.  Hopefully it’ll be up to snuff, I’ve never made it before and oh boy what an audience for an inagural attempt… (She’s already offered me pre-emptive forgiveness for it not being as good as her mum’s, bless her.)

I’m excited to make the Mac an’ Cheese, though, cuz it gives me an excuse to visit the new cheese shop in town that I’ve been meaning to get to.

Yay cheese.

No Caffeine and Needy Clients Make Homer…Something Something….

Yep.  It’s 10:15 on a Tuesday morning and I still haven’t had any caffeine.  Note: I tend to be exceptionally irritable until I’ve gotten sufficient amounts of caffeine in my system.  (See image above.)

What’s a Blog for, if not to whine and complain like a five year old brat?

That is all for now.

Harumpf.

Gingerbread Log Cabin Replica

My [large-ish Irish Catholic] family has a log cabin that my dad and Uncles built in 1984 (the year I was born!) It’s our little piece of Heaven on a lazy river in BuFu Illinois when we want to escape the city. It’s not perfect, but it means a lot to us. Well, some of us anyway. But even for those of my family members who don’t make it out very often, The Cottage has a special little place in all of our hearts. (Okay that sounded infinitely more cheesy than I had intended it to, but… oh well.)

So last year I came up with the brilliant idea of attempting to recreate our lil’ cottage as a gingerbread replica, and presenting it at our annual family Christmas party.

Well, I happened to be in Africa for our annual family Christmas party last year, so needless to say…that didn’t exactly happen.

This year, however, I will be home for the holidays (bum deal), so I think I’m gonna go for it! I realise it’s only August (I’ve actually been working out the schematics since last month already), but I figure this is going to take a bit of trial and error and… possibly some math…. to figure out.

Now as mentioned in my previous post… I tend to be extremely persnickety about certain things, and excessively detail-oriented. Ahem. That being said; I already know that accuracy and true-to-life detail is going to be a big deal for this project… I can’t help it. If I’m going to do something [like this] I’m going to do it right. Very, very, very right. Hooray for debilitating perfectionism!

So I think I’m going to begin experimenting with the logs themselves first. Individual 2-D ones piped out onto cookie sheets. Possible detailling done with marmalade and cinnamon…. the real logs have an interesting treatment to them… a bit glossy, a beautiful colour, though peeling a little bit… We shall see. Suggestions welcome. I haven’t ruled out pretzel rods entirely, but…. it is, after all, a gingerbread house…

I’d also like to have a crack at sugar windows soon. The Cottage has quite a few windows, including a large picture window and a few dormers. Anyone know how I might go about giving the corners that powdery-white snow-collecting-in-my-panes look? I’m thinking white Pixie Stix/Sherbet powder, or maybe even just caster sugar…for that extra pretty sparkly effect…

Updates and photos to be posted if/when I ever get around to testing these things out…

; )

How do you do…

Oh boy. I’ve done it. I’ve gone and gotten myself a blog. I suppose I ought to start out with a disclaimer of sorts…

How ’bout….

I have no idea what I’m doing…

No seriously, though. I don’t really have anything specific to tell the masses about… I don’t “do” anything…

I just um…wanted to write about stuff, I guess.

I am a rather sporadic person… I’d introduce and describe myself, but honestly that changes constantly. Like…day to day…hour to hour sometimes even… Something as simple as a cup of coffee can drastically change things… (note: I am pathetically addicted to caffeine.) …which may or may not make me seem like I suffer from multiple personality disorder or something… which may or may not be true… (but as of now, I have not been clinically diagnosed as so…) I think I’m relatively normal, however… I think I just have a lot jammed in this little package and it all decides to show itself at various times for various occasions…

I’d say right now I’m in an extremely random mood. Which is why this post is all over the place. Also, I am currently at work and keep getting interrupted by duty as it calls, so this hasn’t all been written in one sitting… and before you scoff at my slackerish, blog-writing-while-on-the-clock ways, I’ll tell you that I am a receptionist with not much to do. Seriously. I’m not procrastinating or ignoring work that I don’t want to do in the hopes that it’ll just go away… I honestly don’t have anything else to do. My job consists almost entirely of sitting here and smiling while I wait for people to call, clients to arrive and packages to be delivered…. which doesn’t happen all that much. Ergo my boredom. And mildly delerious random demeanour at the moment. But back to the introduction/description…

I think generally speaking… people might describe me as consistently easy-going, upbeat, relatively funny, creative, a lil’ goofy, and exceptionally sarcastic. I don’t consider myself a particularly abrasive person, so if I say something that’s offensive… 98 times out of 100 it’s just my satirical side rearing its ugly head… And I swear I’m not just saying that so I don’t get an inbox stuffed full of angry emails for anything that gets written here that’s even mildly upsetting. Almost everything I say should be taken with a grain of salt. (Sometimes a whole shaker when I’m feeling feisty.)

My mind is all over the place. Almost always. I have a million hobbies and I’m kind of rubbish at all of them… Well… not rubbish, per say, but certainly not talented enough to make a living of any of them… which is what makes them hobbies I suppose…

My latest obsession is cooking and baking. I mean I’ve always loved cooking and baking… I’ve been making a mess of my mother’s kitchen with hare-brained culinary experiments since I was old enough to reach the counters. Before then, even. I distinctly remember my very first kitchen (Fischer Price, perhaps?) as a toddler (I swear I’m not making it up; I really do remember a thing or two from when I was that young). It was plastic. But that was okay with me. It had counterspace and that was all I needed. My poor cousin, we’ll call him “BJ”…oh no, he’d hate that…how ’bout “CJ”… is my age, and he’s been my Guinea Pig since I can remember. That’s partially his fault, though, because not once have I ever had to tie him down and plug his nose to get him to try anything. He still reminds me of the “soup” I made when we were about 9 that made his nose run like Niagara Falls because I had used about half the bottle of Cayenne Pepper, among other kick-infusing ingredients, in the glop. I don’t think he minds too much. I make him legitimate food now that he thoroughly enjoys, so I think he agrees that it was all worth it.

Swedish Princess Cake.

But much more than cooking; I love baking. Cakes, tarts, pies, crumbles, trifles, puddings, tortes– you name it I love to make it. The prettier the better. I’m kind of obsessed with minor (often trivial) details when it comes to certain things, and desserts is definitely one of those things. Give me fondant and gum paste flowers and crystallised fruits and lattice crusts and dizzying icing designs any day. I love the complex, the time-consuming, the excessively ornate… I may have a.d.d. (now THAT I am legitimately diagnosed with), but constructing a beautiful dessert can hold my attention for hours on end. It’s in my genes, I think… I found out at some point that my biological father and grandfather owned their own bakery. Go figure!

(On that note, I’ll state now that I am adopted… and am my very own Nature vs. Nurture experiment. In that respect, I actually fascinate myself. And I mean that most humbly. More on that later, I’m sure…)

Anyhow, back to introducing myself… I’m 24 years old, I live a mile outside the city limits of Chicago, Illinois, I have absolutely no idea what to do with myself and life, and…um…have apparently decided to write about it. I do enjoy writing, and am working on a rather large, novel-length fiction piece that may or may not be finished by the time I’m collecting Social Security. I’m a book worm; escapism is one of my favourite pastimes… I was a synchronised swimmer several years back, and, like cooking… I got a very early start in the water… my parents practically had to drag me out of the pool and bath tub. I work to live, not the other way around. Ergo my lack of a career at this stage in the game. Though my latest kick is to become a pastry chef… An actual career aspiration *gasp!* We’ll see how well that goes. Sometimes I like to pontificate. A lot. What can I say; I can be a persnickety pain in the arse at times. Nobody’s perfect.

So I think that’ll have to do for now in the way of an introduction because… I can’t think of anything else to say about myself without boring the snot out of anyone that happens to stumble across and read this monstrosity.

I’m not quite sure why I decided to start a blog… I’m not sure I’m interesting enough to have a regular, consistent source of material to put up here… but we’ll see…

Ta for now.