Attn: Department Of Child & Family Services

For years, I have claimed to have worked with some of the most ridiculous people on Earth. Many of you have heard the crazy stories of things that have happened in the office or quotes that people have said and you, most likely, think I'm kidding. You probably think that I'm making it up...or, at least, exaggerating the truth.
Well, here's another one for the books...
This afternoon was my department's annual pizza lunch and Yankee Swap. We ordered from Pizza Pie-er (yum!) and booked ourselves a conference room so we had PLENTY of space to fill with nonsensical conversation.
The grab gifts were as follows: $10 Dunkin Donuts gift card and some Lindt chocolate truffles; two 5"x7" silver picture frames; a popcorn maker; a foot massaging slipper thing and a Starbucks gift bag; a holiday Pyrex serving dish; a Crate & Barrel candy dish and some chocolates; two holiday movies and some movie candy; a set of four wine glasses; and, finally, a bottle of pinot grigio.
I've played different versions of a Yankee Swap. The way we played today was everyone picks a number. Number one picks a gift. Then, number two picks a gift and opens it. They can decide to steal number one's gift if they choose...and so on. Then, at the very end, number one can pick any gift they want.
This year, I picked number seven. When we're dealing with just nine people, number seven is not great.
I had a choice between the gift I brought, a rumored Chia Obama and something in a penguin bag. I chose the penguin bag. In the bag were the two picture frames. Because I'm trying to declutter my house and get rid of my frames, I decided to steal the bottle of pinot from a team leader. Thank you very much.
After me, the most ridiculous of my ridiculous coworkers opened the four wine glasses (not Chia Obama) and deliberated for what seemed like 10 minutes about whether she wanted to keep the wine glasses for herself or steal my bottle of wine...not because she drinks wine...but...wait for it...because her underage daughters drink wine.
There were a lot of strained eyeballs in that room and my good friend not-so-softly whispered to me, "Isn't that illegal?"
I'm not saying I didn't drink before I was 21 years old. I'm not saying that my parents never let me try a sip of beer or a sip of wine or a mixed drink before my 21st birthday. What I AM saying is that bringing home a bottle of pinot grigio from a work holiday party for your boozehound daughters just doesn't seem right to me.
On the bright side, my boss, number one, decided to steal the gift I brought from someone else to end the game. Hell yeah! I knew that How The Grinch Stole Christmas, Four Christmases, Goobers, Twizzlers, Reese's Pieces, Junior Mints and Swedish Fish were the way to go. I win!

"That Number's A Little High"

Being the good person that I am, after work last night, I went to the Rhode Island Blood Center to donate blood. I arrived at about 6:15pm and was surprised to see a crowd in the waiting room. After a few minutes, "Patricia" was called into the interview room by a young Asian girl with flaming red hair. She asked me the normal blood donation interview questions to confirm that I was, indeed, Patricia. I passed.
She then pricked my finger and ran the blood through that mystery machine. It's, clearly, a mystery because I have no idea what it actually does. I passed.
She then took my temperature. I passed.
Finally, she took my blood pressure. 124/90. She states, "That bottom number is a little high."
This is the only time I've EVER had a response like that.
It's ironic because for the first time in a very long time I'm actually watching what I eat and exercising regularly. How do I now need to watch this?
After 3 minutes of research, I learned that diastolic blood pressure (the bottom number) measures the pressure in your blood vessels between heartbeats, when your heart is resting.
Perhaps I'm just stressed? Well, after news of this, I'm more stressed than I was originally.

Trading Spaces

This has been QUITE the week. Work was just hellish and I haven't gotten much sleep. I left work promptly at 430pm today and successfully made it home without being hit by a car. All I wanted to do when I arrived home was jump in some sweats and vegetate on the couch. I did do this but not before I found some strange woman attempting to use her key to get into my neighbor's condo.
She looks at me as I open the door to the hallway and, not recognizing me, says, "Am I on the wrong floor?"
Silently in my head, I say, "How the hell do I know, lady?"
Then, she looks at the number on the door across the hall from me and says, "Oh, yes, I am. I'm not well." She then takes my neighbor's "Welcome" door mat that she had moved in front of my door and puts it back in place where she found it originally and hustles past me. I was convinced that Paige Davis from Trading Spaces was going to jump out from behind a door and tell me I had to paint my neighbor's place and reupholster their old loveseat. Ugh, that would've been bad. I just wanted to nap.

The Day I Was Hit By A Car

The first thing I heard on the radio when I woke up this morning was how warm it was going to be today. At 7am, it was 55 degrees...in Rhode Island...in late November. Despite this news, I decided to wear my long red wool coat to work today. Little did I know that it would save my life.
(If I really WERE to write a book, wouldn't that pull you in?)
Unfortunately, my escapade in the Providence Place Mall parking lot was not that dramatic but it still happened. I was hit by a car.
Not my car. But me - Trish-the-Dish.
I left work a little later than usual so I have a few extra pennies in my paycheck. When I clocked out, it was super dark out. The clock said 4:57pm but it looked like midnight.
Anyways, I got stuck in the elevator with two obnoxious women talking about Zumba. This was annoying on it's own but they didn't leave me there. They escorted me to the door at - a - very - slow - pace. When I finally got to the double doors leading to freedom, I cut to the right and blew right past them. Out of my way, ladies!
I power walked to the corner and waited for the signal telling me it was safe to walk across the street. While there, a coworker came up to me and we waited together...safely on the side of the street. We finally cross and realize that we park in the same parking lot.
As I always do, I walk in the drive-out opening in the building, which positions me facing the oncoming cars so I can see everything. I lure Linda to do the same. Because there's so much traffic at the toll booths, this is usually an easy task. You simply just breeze through them. They ain't going anywhere.
We were talking about her upcoming Florida vacation when we cut in between two cars. The one at the end of the line got fed up with his line and decided to reverse it and switch lines. Let's call him Mr. Patience. This allowed Linda & I to walk through without incid...
OUCH!
The crazy woman that was in line right in front of Mr. Patience decided that she would also jump ship. Ship being her line of traffic.
Let's call her Mrs. Hit & Run because she totally backed up into me! Um...hello! Did you not see my bright red coat? Also, I'm pretty sure we made eye contact as I walked through the cars.
She just tapped my left calf and I won't have as much as a bruise but I'm going to milk it for everything I can. In fact, I may develop a limp overnight. That should score me a free breakfast, no?

Isn't Thanksgiving Ironic?

The product of a broken home, for years, I've had to split my time between Mom and Dad during the holidays. Dad's holidays are elegant and polished, while Mom's holidays are casual and relaxing. For anyone who knows me, you KNOW I prefer Mom's holidays.
This morning, while I was getting ready for another Ginnetti Thanksgiving, I was cursing the fact that I needed to put on "work clothes" when I wanted to throw on some jeans & a hooded sweatshirt for a Sheridan turkey day. I wore a pair of black slacks, a pattered top with 3/4-length sleeves, pearl earrings and suede flats. Outerwear included a purple scarf and my knee-length red wool winter coat.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I was greeted at the door by my father in a polo, jeans & all-white sneakers. (The all-white sneakers are another story altogether!) I enter the house and see Sue in a nice top, jeans and wedged shoes. A few hours later, Sue's son and his family arrived - all in casual clothes. Hell, David wore khaki shorts and a baseball hat!
Then, I look outside and saw flying pigs! I, clearly, missed a memo.
Perhaps next year, to avoid confusion, we should dress like this:

Scamming Second Dates

I think I may have accidentally stumbled upon a new dating tactic.
I have been casually talking to this boy and we decided to grab a quick bite to eat over the weekend. I showered, dried and straightened my hair, brushed my teeth, applied deodorant and ran threw a cloud of perfume, wore "big girl" shoes & a nice sweater...also known as put forth effort. What I did NOT do is put my debit/credit cards in my purse.
He and I have a great conversation, have a few drinks, share a few stories, some laughs and a slice of vanilla bean cheesecake and, then, the waiter brings the bill over to the table. Being the nice girl that I am, I reach for the bill and add up my portion in my head. I put the bill back on the table and reach for my purse.
I grab my change purse, which holds all money, my license, AAA card, insurance information, my health insurance card, a Charlie Card for the Boston T, a Cilantro frequent shopper card (with 4 punched stars) among other things. Those other things typically are my debit card and my credit card...but not tonight.
I take the folded cash out of my purse while I feel my face getting more red by the second. Oh great, six dollars!
I rifle threw my cards praying that one of them has cash on the other end. No such luck.
"Hi, ____. Funny story. I realize this is our first date and it looks like you're having a good time. Well, I'm here to ruin it."
I totally didn't have enough money with me to pay my portion. Needless to say, I was mortified. I can not believe I had done this. I'm usually the girl that checks 100 times to make sure she has anything. En route to any game or concert, I'm the girl that checks 20 times to make sure that the tickets didn't crawl out of my bag, open the car window and fly out.
LUCKILY, ____ didn't leave me at the restaurant to clean dishes. He very graciously reopened his wallet and paid the full amount. We continued our conversation and left well after our server did.
On the bright side, I now owe him dinner. Looks like someone scored herself a second date.

Nibbles Woodaway

One of the first things I learned when I moved to the State of Rhode Island was that the proper name of New England Pest Control's "Big Blue Bug" was "Nibbles Woodaway". He is stationed at the Thurbers Avenue curve on I-95 in Providence and is, no doubt, the cause of many rush hour traffic accidents to those looking to sneak a peek of the massive attraction.
Since my move in 2004, I have told people this fun fact and very few people actually believe me. They have never heard of such a ludicrous name for the state's most well-known insect. Livelong Rhodies tell me that Kate's crazy for thinking this and that I'm crazy for believing her.
Well, read it and weep, people! Per Wikipedia, the "Big Blue Bug" is also known as "Nibbles Woodaway".
Nibbles is 928 times the size of an actual termite, standing at 9 feet tall and 58 feet long, and weighing 4,000 pounds. It was constructed over a four day period from wire mesh and fiberglass in late 1980 at a cost of $20,000.
Nibbles has made numerous media appearances, including the film Dumb and Dumber, and the television programs The Today Show, The Oprah Winfrey Show, The Daily Show and Family Guy.
The reason why I bring this up is that on my drive home tonight, Nibbles was getting his annual holiday garb on. Can we say "costume change"?
I don't know what it is but nothing quite says "Happy Holidays!" like a massive termite in reindeer antlers and a red nose.
Tis the season!