Friday, January 27, 2006


My sister almost t-boned me on 1st Avenue today. I was pulling into the turning lane (legally) as she turning left onto first Ave and trying to use the turning lane as a "merge" lane (illegally). Had I stopped, the Buick on my ass would've hit me; had I swerved right, I would've hit the car in the other lane; had I swerved left, I would've either been in oncoming traffic, or I would've hit my sister because she wouldn't have had time to get out of my way. Instead, I hit the gas, and she continued to come at me. At the last second, she must've stopped, making her perpendicular to the oncoming cars. Nice work, KATIE (names have been changed to prevent sister from bitching at me for putting her in a blog).
Then? She had the nerve to call me and leave a message about how I almost hit her! Talk about balls o' steel! I won't get into the number of vehicle mishaps she's been in, compared to my one. I'm not going to call her a bad driver. I'm just saying she tried to kill me this morning.

Soooo, last weekend was our company party. It was pretty uneventful. Josh was sick, so he was unable to partake in the open bar. That was probably a good thing, because the year before, he drank about a bottle of JW Black and was still drunk for the 5:00 news the next night. I toned it down a little, despite the J-bombs that were liberally passed out. I met Boob's wife. He has a picture of them in his office. He's sporting a porno mullet and a molestache, and she is rockin a perm. Judging by the mullet and 'stache, I assume the picture was taken at least 10-15 years ago. His mullet and 'stache are no longer present. Her perm, however, is in full effect.
For the most part, everyone seemed to behave much better than they did last year. Still, some fun-hater complained to the owner about some "inappropriate" behavior. Boob had to bring it up at our meeting the other day, just to say that it wasn't any of us, but he was supposed to remind us how to act at company functions. I was paranoid for a little while, wondering if it was the rendition of "I Touch Myself" that I performed at the bar after the party or the unspeakable things I did to the microphone during the performance, but then I reminded myself that the pole dancing and floor humping that my coworker did while fulfilling his duties of backup dancer were much, much worse. Plus, that was technically after the party. Once drinks aren't free, I'm not bound by The Man's rules anymore.
During the same meeting, Boob told us that he'd like it if we'd sit apart now and then. Apparently, someone mentioned that we're always together. As if that's the only problem with the company right now. We didn't meet our 2005 goals because Purchasing always sits together. Are you f'ing kidding me? We pretty much told him that he was being stupid and that we weren't going to comply. I would think a company would be happy that an entire department gets along. That place is ridiculous. They get all worked up about the dumbest things. I slouch in my chair. I scowl when I squint at the monitor. I wear a coat when I'm cold. I sit with the few people there that I can actually stand during meetings. God forbid! All those things MUST negatively affect my performance! Someone stop her! The company will fall apart!
I had to have lunch with Boob. I was dreading it even more than I dread the yearly unspeakable appointment. It went okay. There was a lot of uncomfortable small talk until he opened up the door for me to bring up his sexism. He backpedalled and stammered a lot. He also tried straight-up lying and taking his own words out of context. I think he's probably a little terrified of me now. He was blowing sunshine up my ass like it was his job by the end of it all. Either that, or he's just going to fire me on Monday. Oh, and he talks with his mouth full and spits little bits of food.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006


So, Boob isn't getting much better. He really seems to be a nice guy, but I have absolutely no respect for him. I'm much smarter than he is, and I don't think there's anything I can learn from him. Every now and then he launches into a Captain Obvious lecture about the goddamn bottom line, but we've all learned to tune him out and nod in the appropriate places. Boob has also established himself as a sexist bastard, in my book. There have been several instances that add up to the result of either a total jackass that doesn't think before opening his silly mouth, or a vertically challenged misogynist.

Exhibit A: The Strip Club
During our first meeting with Boob, he was tooting his own horn (I don't like that phrase. I have never liked that phrase. I don't know why I just used it) about how he knows how to read people in order to get the best results. We have a historically crappy vendor that will always be crappy, and he was saying that sometimes the best way to deal with people like that isn't to threaten them or pull the business. Instead, he would just fly out there, take him to a strip club, and work it out over beers. And beaver.
There are SO many things wrong with that. This was his first meeting with us. He had no way of knowing whether anyone would be offended by the very mention of strip clubs. I personally am mostly amused by strippers, although they terrify me a little. Boob couldn't have known that. One of the guys I work with could be a Morman, or something. Anyway, all that aside? Still offensive. It implies that the decisionmakers in these companies are men, or stripper-loving lesbos.

Exhibit B: Boobies
I totally caught Boob checking out The Girls. I wasn't even wearing anything too scandalous. It was this pink sweater I got at Old Navy on clearance for $6.99. I guess when I leaned on the table to eat my bagel, they were spotted. I glanced up while I was chewing to make eye contact so he would think I was listening to his boobery just as he was tearing his eyes away. When I mentioned that to Tanner, he said at one point I leaned across the table to address them and Boob honed right in. Poor Girls. There should be a screening process before a person is even allowed to be within twenty feet of them. The criteria would include things like being taller than 5'1", not having freakishly small carny hands, and not being named "Boob."

Exhibit C:
We had our reviews last week. I was quizzing Boob on opportunities at the company, because I hear about them all the time but nothing seems to open. When I started there, they promised there would eventually be something in marketing or strategy. I'm still holding my breath. Boob was going down a list of possibilities, and mentioned a facility we might need to staff. That little f'er actually said to me, "Just because you're a woman doesn't mean you can't be a warehouse or production supervisor."
First of all, no thanks. This was right after I told him I had a background in marketing and wanted to do something in that field. And seriously? Seriously? Do people really say things like that? I don't care what anyone says about him just trying to encourage me or present opportunities that a woman normally wouldn't go after. That's ridiculous. F'ing boob. I tried to point out that what he said came across very, very badly, but he didn't get it. If he said to a black person, "Just because you're black..." that would automatically be considered racist. I don't see how this is any different. If he had taken it back after I pointed it out, it wouldn't have been so bad, but he really doesn't understand that what he said was wrong. F'ing moron.

Exhibit D: Porno Police
Boob is obsessed with pornography. Several times, he has walked into the room and said something along the lines of, "Boss is here, close all the porn sites!" *insert comedic pause here* "On second thought, leave 'em open!"
Hilarity ensues.
I haven't actually heard this, but my coworkers have. The only time he came close when I was in the room was after a guy from another department had been job shadowing me for a little while. Boob said something like, "So, did she show you where all the good porn sites are?" The other guy laughed, and I said, "I am SO not comfortable with that." I like the other guy and would gladly discuss porn sites with him, but Boob doesn't need to know that.

I have plenty of other issues with Boob, but I think people could just blow those off as me being a bitch and not wanting a manager. Everything I've mentioned here is totally legit and could easily get someone fired. That company is so f'ed up. I get bitched at for wearing a coat in a 40 f'ing degree office, yet Boob gets to stare at my boobies, talk about strippers and porn, and set the women's lib movement back to 1950 and he's probably making twice what I make. If that place had a cash register, I'd take money out of it. And I'd pee in the pickles.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

2005: It Didn't Suck

Jesse Spano's character in "Showgirls" always says, "It doesn't suck" when asked what she thinks about something. I know she said it about a sports car and champagne, but I can't remember what else. Every time I see that movie on VH1, I tell myself I'm going to start a trend of saying "Doesn't suck" in response to anyone requesting my opinion, but then I forget. It's not that I watch that movie all the time, it just seems to be on VH1 a lot. I don't think I've ever seen the real, unedited version. I hear it's kinda dirty. The movie is pretty hilarious on VH1 because of how it's edited. There are a few times when Jesse Spano (Naomi? I can't remember her name from the movie or the actress's name. Whatever) says something that's so filthy that they have to edit it out and put in something absolutely ridiculous. It's kind of like watching Scarface or Casino on USA. Oh, and they put a cartoon bra on her because she apparently runs around with no top on throughout most of the movie. The first time I saw it, I was wondering why she was wearing such a heinous purple bikini, but I figured it out when it seemed to move by itself.

Anyway, this is my review of 2005. It was a pretty good year overall. It didn't suck.

  • My sister-in-law had their third baby. Each time someone in my family has a baby, it takes any potential pressure off me. I figure I have at least 4 years after the last McGrane baby is born before my family notices and starts asking. Josh's family is another story, but none of them have my phone number and they live a few hours away so it's all good.
  • I had my company party. I drank about a bottle of Absolut and told my boss (not my immediate boss, I mean the guy that owns the damn company) exactly what I thought of the company, my position, and my current boss. It was his fault. He asked.
  • Miraculously, I was offered a new position within the company the following Monday. I was still drunk from the Friday before so I accepted. I got away from my asshole "manager" and the woman next to me that listened to country music all f'ing day. AND there's actually work for me to do now. My coworkers are much better now.
  • I don't remember much about February. I know Josh cooked me a really good meal for Valentine's Day.
  • We hosted a killer Mardi Gras party, complete with beads, hurricanes, and boobies. Josh has a coworker that gets drunk and shows boobies. Not her boobies, mind you. If you're within 100 feet of her, your shirt is probably going to be lifted at some point in the night. Josh and I also made Divorce Jambalaya, which turned out delicious. We had conflicting ideas on how to make everything, then in the middle of it all one of his friends called so he spent the next twenty minutes on the phone while I shredded about 70 chicken breasts. All in all, the night was a success, although someone spilled a red hurricane on our white carpet twenty minutes into the night.
  • This was the first sober St. Patrick's Day for me since I was 18 years old. Sad. Just sad. It was in the middle of the week. I had two Guinesses at Muddy Waters, got annoyed by all the drunk whores that had been at it since before noon, and went home.
  • I don't remember anything about April, either. Maybe this year-in-review was a bad idea.
  • Josh had his camping trip at the end of the month. I went to Ames for a night or two and camped with him the next. Ooh, I ran into Jared Homan, the hottie basketball player. I almost ran into him while carrying two pitchers. He looked at my chest (not the pitchers, I'm sure of it), and declared, "That's my kind of woman." I giggled like a schoolgirl and ran away. He did the double-hands-to-the-waist thing as I walked by and I think I peed a little. This is exactly why Josh can never get jealous. I have no game whatsoever. I don't know if I ever did, but pre-Josh Molly may have had something to say other than "Teeeeeeeeeeeeheheheheheeee!" to the guy she had been drooling over all season.
  • I had a kickass birthday. Lorelle bought Cubs tickets for us so we headed to Chicago. The night before the game, someone told the DJ it was my birthday so this other guy and I were dragged on stage and forced to do a shot of warm Jager out of an inflatable sheep's ass.
  • Josh and I built a fence to separate ourselves from our f-ed up neighbors. Mr. Seyba, the guy that kicked me off the track team in 6th grade, resisted a little because apparently deer used to sleep right in the corner where the fence was going. Josh ignored him, but noted that there was a jug o' Hawkeye vodka and bloody mary mix.
  • We got our doggie! I still just look at her and laugh. She's so damn cute.
  • Josh, his dad, and I went to Cincinnati to visit his family. The first night, we had kickass seats to a Dave Matthews Band concert. His aunt's sister has this rich boyfriend that has permanent VIP seats to everything at the arena. We had a VIP bathroom and a VIP bar. It wasn't just crappy beer, either. They had topshelf mixed drinks. While we were there, it was approximately 139 degrees all hours of the day. We went to a Reds game one of the days. I had Dippin' Dots and lots of beer. Nothing helped, though. I still got a permawedgie from everything sticking together.
  • We also went to King's Island, this amusement park that Josh had been talking about for years, since he found out how much I love Adventureland. Sure, Adventureland is totally ghetto, but I spent every vacation there for the first fifteen years of my life, and everyone knows the Tornado kicks MAJOR ass. It was 175 degrees the day we went to King's Island, so it was just miserable. We went to the water park to cool off for a couple hours, but it was so crowded there wasn't much to do but stand around in piss-tainted water. By the end of the day, I had one of the worst headaches of my life. Plus, some of the roller coasters made me feel like someone ripped out my spine and beat me with it. I'll take my Tornado any day, thank you very much.
  • My oldest sister turned forty. Her birthday celebration lasted the entire month.
  • Joey and I went to Chicago to celebrate Lorelle's birthday. We hung out with a guy that broke my poor little heart in seventh grade. Asshole. I hadn't seen him since high school. Apparently, he's loaded now, so he bought a shitload of shots. Maybe he's okay after all.
  • Two of my coworkers and I drank seven tallboys at lunch. That's all I have to say about that.
  • Josh had to MC a gala for juvenile diabetes. Julie loaned me an absolutely scandalous dress that I would've looked deadly in about ten pounds ago, but I looked hot nonetheless. There was a girdle involved. Talk about hot...
  • Josh's co-host was none other than Carla Davis. My friends and I used to torment her when we were in high school while she was on a call-in show on 96.5. She took requests and dedications and we used to mess (this would be the perfect opportunity for the f-bomb. That's what we did. We f'ed with her) with her all the time. We would make up phony dedications and fake cry. Carla never caught on.
  • We tailgated the shit out of the Iowa/ISU game. We brought a TV, a generator, and lots of beer so we could just watch the game from the tailgate spot. There were all these Iowa sorority sluts hanging out with us for some reason. I just drank enough to drown out their squawking.
  • Josh and I made it through the first year of marriage. Our anniversary is detailed in another entry. There's no reason to get into it again.
  • Speaking of that dirty, hairy little f'er, I finally talked Josh into letting me send a carefully worded letter explaining our side and accusing him of fraud. We didn't get a response. He's probably hibernating in a rabbit hole, or something.
  • After shopping around, we got Doggie #2. He needs someone a little more playful than Maggie, but he's doing pretty well. He's a very sweet and cute boy. He wants to play all the time. I'll be getting dressed at 7 in the morning and he'll be nipping at me or taking my socks.
  • I had a mini reunion with three of my friends from Lucullan's. The four of us worked there together for a long-ass time. Seth is still in Ames, I'm in Crapids, but Dacri is in Arizona and Sam is in California. Yeah, Iowa sucks. Anyway, we drank a few bottles of Mondoro, had a kickass dinner, then went to the bars. Good times.
  • Beej and Melanie had a New Year's Eve party. They're a cute couple, but they tell each other to "shut the f up" and "f off" quite a bit during games if they've been drinking. It's probably terrifying for people that don't know them that well. It's downright hilarious to me.
  • My sister Peggy had a baby on Christmas Eve. I saw him last weekend. He's probably the cutest McNewborn so far. I'm terrified of babies until they can sit up by themselves, but he's pretty okay, for a baby.
That's the year in review. I know I skipped a lot, but I'm doing this between commercials and we polished off a bottle of wine earlier so I really just want to sit on the couch. Moral of the story: 2005 didn't suck.