Vigorous Anonymity

Archive for the ‘Paranoia Runs Deep’ Category

Sigh…I wrote a post that disappeared and I don’t even remember what I wrote about.  That’s pretty sad.

So you know I don’t talk about work much around here (are you listening Kristin?) but there’s some stuff going on and I’m unsettled about it.

Friday night, my friend, She Who Reads This Blog (SWRTB), and I went out after work for drinks and for the first time ever, we were joined by the Vice President of another department and his staff of salesmen.  These guys are the “cool kids”, the ones you WANT to go out for drinks with.  They’re young, fun and irreverent and I adore them.  I’ve always thought I belonged in that department and not the one I’m in because I spoke their language.  But alas, I am stuck in Legal…yawwwwwn…

Anyway…the VP eventually works his way over to me and very matter-of-factly tells me to be prepared, because he’s planning to swap his assistant out for me.  And then my brain exploded.

I had already had two glasses of wine at this point, and was working on my third, so I’m a little twitchy about the details, but he and his assistant have been at odds for some time now.  Last week he asked me if I would be her back-up because she’s been taking a lot of time off and leaving them unsupported.  I guess that was the precursor to this.

So I’m excited about the prospect and the possibility and terrified about the implications.  First, I don’t know how I feel about getting a job at someone else’s expense.  I mean, his assistant and I are office friends.  We chat at the water cooler.  She complains about her bosses to me.  And I now know that her boss is planning to get rid of her, and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that.  If the situation was reversed I’d want her to tell me so I could get my ducks in a row.  But I’m at a loss.

SWRTB tells me to “go to the mattresses.”  It’s business, not pleasure.  And I mostly agree…but part of me feels icky.

What do you think?


What an interesting evening.

Jackass and I left directly from work, and for the first time ever, we took the ferry from Weehawken to Manhattan.  Everyone always raves about them, but we’ve never done it, and it’s really silly not to.  Still, we got stuck in traffic getting to the ferry, but the ride across the Hudson is delightful and picturesque and everyone should do it.  One of the things it is not however, is cheap.  It costs just as much as driving in and parking, but it’s less filling.  Or tastes great.  Either way, it’s a win.

While standing in line to buy our ferry tickets, a 40ish year old man got in line behind me, and started chewing some sweet, sickening smelling chewing wad like a cow chews its cud.  It was absolutely disgusting on so many sensory levels:  it smelled horrible, it looked nasty and the sound was making me nauseous.  If he’d been 15 I’d have given him the benefit of the doubt, but come on, seriously?  Oral fixation, much?

After the ferry ride, we hopped on a free shuttle bus to mid-town as if we were commuters and knew what we were doing.  We were awesome.

Guess who sat in the aisle across from us.  Go ‘head.  Yup, Gumby.  And you know how I knew it was him.  By the enormous snapping bubble he blew with his disgusting pink bubblegum cud-wad.  I had to restrain Jackass, who was just itching to punch him in the face everytime he blew a bubble.

We were meeting some friends at a restaurant near the theater, which happened to be right next door to The David Letterman Show.  I’m not kidding, it’s so right next door I almost walked into the theater instead of the restaurant.  People were milling about outside taking their pictures with the marquis in the background like tourists.  I refrained.  I wish I hadn’t.  By the way, Angelo’s in mid-town NY?  Best.Fettucine.Carbonara.Ever.

So far, it’s a nice evening right?

We got to the theater – where, sidebar, we knew one of the performers and the costumer is one of Jackass’ best friend’s son.  We found our seats…middle section, 20 rows back, middle of the aisle!  AWESOME!  We sat down.  There was a man two rows in front of me who was kind of tall, and of course, his head was smack in the middle of the stage for me, but I could crane around him and it was ok.  Then the occupants of the two seats directly in front of us showed up.

He was 6’6″.  Had to be.  And equally as broad.  I have never seen so big a man.  His head took up the entire right side of the stage (KJ, if the set design was the same as when you saw it, I had no view of the stairs that the actors kept going up and down.)  So coupled with the guy two rows in front whose head blocked the center of the stage, and the guy in front of us who blocked the entire right, I couldn’t see shit.  In fact, at the end of the show, during the standing ovation, some actor let out an amazing note and I have no idea who it was cause I couldn’t see anything.  Just the red checked shirt of the guy in front of me.

Seated directly to my left, however, was a friendly looking man, who I assumed was with the people to HIS left.  He was not.  As it turned out, he was alone.  We had a lovely chat.  He’s from Canada – Edmonton, Alberta to be exact, and it was his first visit to NY, and he’d been to see Wicked, In The Heights, and two others I can’t remember, and Jersey Boys was his fifth play in 5 days.  His partner couldn’t make the trip so he was alone.

We talked a little about health care (it’s what I do) and about the theater, and about Canada and about the fact that he’s a barrister and I work for a lawyer, and 20 minutes into it, I thought, this is silly, and I held out my hand and introduced myself.

“So, hi!  My name is Candy!”




A timid, “Seriously?”  And his eyes filled with a look I didn’t recognize.  I still don’t know what it was…a cross between incredulity and fear I guess.

“Yes, seriously,” I laughed.

He hesitantly took my hand, shook it and said, “Rod.”

“Nice to meet you, Rod from Alberta,” I said.  And then the lights went down and the show started and that was that.

At intermission, I leaned over to Rod from Alberta, and asked him what he thought of the show.  “Super!” he said.  And then he excused himself to go do whatever you do in the lobby of a NY theater.

We didn’t leave, we just stayed put…the crush is unbearable at those things and I for once didn’t have to pee.  But I was sitting forward in my seat because I knew Rod from Alberta would be back and I’d have to stand to let him through.

And then the lights lowered for Act II.  And 15 minutes went by, and then 30, and then I realized…


I’m trying not to take this personally.  Trying and failing.  Rod from Alberta, what did I dooooo???

p.s.  Show was awesome, even with understudies..  I highly recommend.

Last week, I bought this very adorable (I thought) jacket at my new favorite store.  I have never shopped there before because their sizing was intimidating.  How do I know if I’m a 2.5 or a 3?  It’s hard enough admitting what size I really am, let alone having it converted to the metric system.

But I used to walk by this store and think how purty their stuff was (and how pricey!) so one night, when I was really desperate for a couple of pairs of slacks that actually fit me, I went in and gave myself up to the salespeople.  Turns out I’m a 2.5, and they carry “short” slacks.  I am now officially in love.

Back to the story, I bought a jacket.  And I frankly think it’s smashing.  It’s got a 3/4 sleeve, and it’s sort of a metallic looking thing, but it’s actually made of linen – with some sort of coating on it to give it the metallic look and to make it sort of…um…coated?  Here, I’ll show you:

Jacket 001

There’s a reason for the face.

I wore it to work last Friday, because I was planning to go to that pseudo-reunion and it looks really cute with a nice pair of jeans (also bought from Chico’s.  They call them “Skinny Jeans”.  What’s not to love??)

The jacket was a little much for the office, I admit.  But I wore it with an awesome pair of brown twill slacks and a nice little turtleneck shell under it and I thought it was great.  And then the men in the office saw it.  Let me share with you the comments:

“Where did you get that, from the set of Miami Vice?”

“Hey, look, it’s Erik Estrada.”

“Nice raincoat.”

“Do you have a walk-on with the Giants this weekend?”

and my favorite…

“I didn’t know you were a volunteer fireman.”

It went on all day.  ALL. FUCKING. DAY.  And then one of them whispered, soto voce, to the other, “That jacket is going to the back of the closet.  We’ll never see it again.”

And damn them.  They’re so right.

Today I am tooth-pain free.  It’s a Interwebz miracle!

Whatever good mojo you all sent me, keep sending it.  It’s better than Percoset.  And it doesn’t make me constipated.

You know, of course, that if one of my kids had a toothache I would make them immediately go to the dentist.  I’m just screwed up in the head about my own mouth.  Besides, it’s crowded in their, what with my own foot in it most of the time.  I don’t have room for a handful of…hands.


So I gotta tell you what’s going on tomorrow night.  And Saturday.

This weekend is Jackass’ 40th high school reunion.  40!  Yeah, I know, only dirt is older.

We have an arrangement.  He doesn’t go to my reunions, and I don’t go to his.  I think this is a swell arrangement for two reasons:

  1. Jackass and The First Wife went to high school together and the one and only time I went to one of his reunions I had to endure her presence AND the snide looks from their former classmates as they sized me up and down all night; and
  2. I don’t want Jackass following me around at mine while I talk to guys I had crushes on in high school who wouldn’t give me the time of day, but now find me charming and cute.  (Ricky C. I’m talking about YOU!)

Jackass went to high school not far from where we live.  Many of his classmates have, however, moved to other states, and so they’ll be coming in to spend the weekend at a local hotel that is sponsoring the reunion.  I recommended to Jackass that he get himself a room there too, for Saturday night, so he could drink himself into a stupor and not have to drive home.  And so he did.

I am thrilled with this whole thing.  First, I’m not going to his frigging high school reunion (a room COMPLETELY FULL OF 63 YEAR OLDS!), second, I get to sleep in my own bed instead of the spare one, and three, I am going to a Rock Band party (Beatles!  YAY!) Saturday and don’t have to worry about what time I get home.  This is a win win win for me.

Then another event unfolded.  One of Jackass’ friends – who he hasn’t seen since 1964 – is coming in from California on Friday and wants their group of friends to get together.  I don’t know how many the “group” consists of but Jackass is so psyched he can’t stand himself.  This required yet another night at the hotel (again…drunken stupor.  Again…me in my own bed!) which I wholeheartedly supported.

And then the boom was lowered.  My presence was requested.  By the friend.  Who not only asked Jackass to ask me…nay to beseech me…he actually finagled my cell number from Jackass and called me himself to beg me.  WTF?  This guy has no idea who I am, except that I broke up the marriage of Jackass and The First Wife (who he obviously knew from high school!) and he needs to meet me so much he’s begging?

Is it just me or does anyone else see this ending badly?

I have been left with no alternative.  I’m going to meet the “group” Friday night.  Who wants to take odds on whether or not the “group” includes The First Wife?

Last night, Ingrid said, “Cheryl [her friend] said she tried to get on your blog last night but you put a password up!”

And I said, yes.  Yes I did.


“Because I don’t want your friends reading my blog, I thought that would be obvious.”  I didn’t add that I’m a little annoyed that because of you and your friends, I had to give up something that was important to me, but I’ll manage.  OK, make that a lot annoyed.

And then she said, “Good, I don’t want them reading it either.”

And like a fool, I said, “I started a new one somewhere where you and your friends will never find it!”

And she laughed and said, “How do you know the people reading your blog all along haven’t been my friends?”

And that left me a little icky.  Are you?  Are you all just Ingrid’s friends, here disguising your sweet young nubile bodies in post-baby fat, and middle-aged spread?  Say it isn’t so.


  • None
  • TheQueen: Yeah, perhaps next year suggest you ALL just skip the adult gifts and focus on the little ones. I'm sure you won't miss it!
  • kristabella: Yay! You're back!
  • Shania Ring: Out of all of that, the only thing in my head is 20?!? Twenty? I remember a little boy in middle school when I first started reading you. Are you SURE