Oct
29
Yesterday morning at my workplace it was announced that due to celebrating some milestones, we were having a Game Day, meaning all employees were supposed to play board games, card games, pinball, pool, video games, computer games, or watch a movie (my office actually has facilities for all these activities and more; unbelievably, we develop productivity software), but no working was allowed.
I always feel out of sorts when my office does this. It’s not like it happens all that often, but I don’t really like playing games, and honestly, if I were going to have a chance to watch a movie during the day, I’d rather go to the theater. Plus, it’s never announced ahead of time, so I always feel annoyed for having gone through my normal hectic morning routine and wasted the time and gas on my commute, and if there was going to be no working required then I can sure think of about a million ways I’d rather spend my free time, none of which involve hanging around the office. I like my coworkers, don’t get me wrong, I just . . . don’t necessarily like spending more time at the office than I have to, you know? Basically, I’m a giant gift-horse-looking whiner who can’t enjoy a free day off. I know, sometimes even *I* can’t believe how much I suck.
Anyway, I spent some time chit-chatting, then went slinking out the door while the cacophony of pinball and the Star Trek arcade machine filled the air, and while I had very good intentions for heading directly home and tackling the monstrous amount of housework and laundry that had been piling up, then getting some freelance work done before getting the kids from daycare, I somehow found myself driving to H&M.
H&M is new to Seattle, and I’d never been there before (for the local yokels, I visited the University Village store). If you haven’t had the pleasure, it’s sort of like an upscale Old Navy, except with 150% less crappy styles. The whole place was stuffed with cute, cheap outfits, and I felt like I had been dropped into some magical fairyland where fashion was actually affordable and didn’t come with those big-assed PLEASE REMOVE BEFORE WEARING tags.
The only problem was the sizes. The majority of the available inventory was in size XS, which seemed about the right fit for Dylan, if he maybe skipped a few YoBaby meals. There was a lot of inconsistency in the numbered sizing, too, which resulted in a frustrating dressing-room experience as I crammed myself into one skirt that fit like a sausage casing, then another in the same exact goddamned size which drooped halfway to my knees. Whiskey tango foxtrot, H&M?
Still, I had a totally pleasurable childfree afternoon browsing around, and even bought a few spiffy new things, including a much-needed dressy winter coat, before heading home to the laundry and projects and children. It may not have been what Workplace intended in terms of employee morale-building, but I guarantee I had just as much fun as my fellow employees who spent eight hours playing Rock Band.
Oct
27
Right. So, that last post was . . . probably an ill-advised use of the Publish button, amplifying an ugly little online situation and ultimately spreading the yuck around. I definitely did not mean for Gillian to receive personal attacks in return, and I am very sorry for that. All I can say is that I was feeling angry and hurt and this is where I tend to go when I feel that way. It always helps, sometimes just by the process of writing something out and thus banishing it from my head to the screen, but more often because of the kindness and sanity so many of you send in my direction.
Still, it would have been smarter to just let it go: not worth my attention, not worth wasting your time by bringing it to your attention. Especially when we have other things to discuss, like playgrounds.
I found the Best Playground Ever this weekend. I never thought I’d be the sort of person who would be all, “OH MY GOD, STOP THE CAR! DID YOU SEE THAT? THAT AWESOME-LOOKING PLAYGROUND?!” — but hey, I never thought I’d find myself using my pinky finger to more accurately remove a booger from a nostril that is not my own.
My criteria for Best Playground Ever includes the following:
The entire place should be deserted. I know, that sounds really anti-social and kind of greedy, but an empty playground means you can just completely dork out with your kid and dangle upside down from the monkeybars without worrying about a stranger being privy to the unflattering sight (or sounds) of you heaving yourself back upright.
There should be plenty of things for a little kid to safely play on. I know, sounds like a no-shitter, right? But I can’t count the number of playgrounds that have, say, metal slides that heat to approximately 3958301 degrees on a sunny day. Have fun, kids! See you at the burn center!
There should be several structures for an adult male to try and jump over.
I don’t know, I guess it’s like how I can’t pass a shoe store without pressing my forehead to the window and snorfling like a truffle-pig: JB can’t pass a leapable object without giving it a go.
There should be a soft surface for cushioning the painful fall when a small child drops from where he was cruelly forced to dangle, Survivor-style, with no assistance.
(I kid, I kid. He was jumping off that step.) (OR WAS HE PUSHED OMG CALL CPS.)
There should be a (non-metal) slide that is barely big enough for a grownup’s ass to fit into, so as you go down you make that humiliating eeeeeeeeeee sound.
The Best Playground Ever should make your kid shout, “HEY! THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA, MOMMY!” afterwards.
Also, the act of screeching your way down the aforementioned slide should build up, like, a LOT of static electricity, so your husband can laugh so hard at your expense he accidentally rips a gunshot-loud fart while pointing the camera at you.
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