Judgemental Facebook Friend Suggester

I think we're all familiar with Facebook's "People You May Know" feature, yes?  If not, you must not have Facebook but, to explain, this feature will suggest friends for you to add. Every time I see these recommendations I get the feeling that Facebook is judging me.  This is what I feel the friend suggester would be saying if it could talk.

"Hey there, Bre.  I see that you and Jill McJillerson have 40 friends in common.  40!  It seems to me that you obviously know her.  So...why aren't you friends with Jill?  What happened between you two that 40 friends in common can't fix, hmmm?"

"Bre.  I suggested you add Jill McJillerson two weeks ago. TWO WEEKS AGO.  I can't help but wonder why you haven't added her, and I'm forced to recommend her friendship again.  Clearly, you're acquainted."

"You do know it's only Facebook friends, right?  I'm not suggesting BFFs or anything!"

"Ok, I'm starting to get the idea that you don't want to add Jill.  Though she's pretty cool, just sayin'. Last chance for you to add her.  I'll leave it up a while and let you mull it over.  Also, I'll suggest her in a couple weeks."

"While you're thinking about Jill, might I suggest Bob McBobster?  Ok, hear me out. I know he's a coworker, I know this coworker loves to eavesdrop on your conversations, and his creep factor is  a 9 out of 10, but look at his profile pic.  It's a baby!  A chubby little baby!  Who doesn't love babies?   Anyone with a baby as a profile picture couldn't be bad."

"I see you didn't add Bob.  I didn't want to say this, but it's apparent you hate babies."

"Fine, Bob is a no go.  How about these other coworkers?  I know you don't actually work in the same department, and you've never actually met, but it's probably not weird to add someone just because you work at the same company.  Friend away!"

"All right, I concede- no coworkers. You're really making this difficult for me.  Here are a couple people you knew from high school.  I'm pretty sure you had science with Jose McJosef and U.S. History with Gabe McGabin.  There's nothing like reconnecting with the past!"

"Ok, you're being a real jerk, Bre.  I recall you were lab partners with Jose, and I know for a fact you had a crush on Gabe, so why won't you just add them?  What's the problem, you don't even have to talk to them, just add them!"

"I realize you haven't kept in contact with them in the last 9 years, and I will admit if you wanted to be friends you would have added them by now, but Mark McMarcus was the bleeping CLASS PRESIDENT!  How can you not want the frickin' Class President on your friends list?!"

"Hey there Bre.  You may have noticed I've been absent for a while; I've been replaced with ads encouraging young mothers to go to college.  I think I needed this time to calm down, relax and regroup.  I've been going about this the wrong way, and am trying something new.  Bre, please meet Sanjeep McSanjay.  You do not know him, have zero friends in common and live in a completely different country.  Better yet, you don't even speak the same language, and I think he's looking for someone to buy him a plane ticket to America.  Since you have no desire to reconnect with old friends, I think it's best that you make new ones."

"Well up yours too!"

The Trainer

Over the last couple years I have...let myself go, as they say. With perfectly orchestrated laziness I have ignored physical activity and embraced a diet shared only by pro-football players and amateur sumo wrestlers.

I can't tell you what urged me to change, 'cause I'm not so sure myself. It's not like I woke up one morning thinking, "Well shoot, I should probably lay off ice cream a lil bit." I just started to make wiser choices, and got my lazy bones off the couch and put some miles on my treadmill. I have lost 45 lbs. so far, and yes, I am bragging.

My employer decided to offer free Gold’s Gym passes to employees, and I began to go to the gym with my mom. We were pretty clueless, but at least we were making an effort. Then I got a trainer. He even offered to work my mom out for free. I'm not sure if it was kindness or pity, because the two of us were puttering around the gym trying to figure out how the machines worked. I imagine we looked like a cavemen might, when trying to figure out modern conveniences.

Said trainer is a pretty cool guy; all smiles and jokes, and to cheer me up when I'm frustrated likes to sing, "I am a child of God, pop-pop-popping on the apricot tree." However bad he is at remembering primary songs, he still manages to be incredibly intimidating all the same. Super tall, super lean and with a thick Ghana accent, he gets me to push myself simply because I don't want to experience his bad side.

Most people can pick up on physical cues, e.g., She looks as though vomiting is imminent, therefore perhaps she is not capable of this level of exercise. Not this guy, if he said I have to do 30 pushups then I will be doing 30 come hell or high water. He will give me a number of reps to accomplish, and will count as I go. Nevertheless, if I start to slow down or, heaven forbid, stop mid-rep he will start to count backward. It's incredibly disparaging to be so burned out that you can't push anymore, and to hear him counting backward, tacking on more reps the longer you wait. Listening to 16, 17, 18, 17, 16, is very disheartening.

The first time he worked out me and my mom together I was hoping he would take it easy on my mom. Partly because I didn't want him to kill her, but mostly I didn't want him to scare her off. Instead, he put punching bags in a circle, weights in our hands and told us to punch the bags with everything we've got. Then, when he would say "left" or "right" then we would run around the punching bag circle in that direction. He then told us that he was going to chase us. I have never been more legitimately terrified, while knowing nothing bad would actually happen. But I did know that I did not want to be caught; I had no idea what being caught entailed.

When we were running to the right I knew I was ok because my mom was behind me, and he couldn't get me. But when we were running to the left I was begging my mom to go faster 'cause I was emphatically uninterested in finding out what might happen should he catch us. And as we sprinted (read: lightly jogged) I would hear taunting from behind, "I see your ponytail. I'm going to get your ponytail!" Most people would imagine their ponytail being tugged, but mine went immediately straight to scalping, and forevermore seeing my ponytail hung on the gym wall as a trophy.

I used to think the only way I was ever going to run was if I was chased by a cheetah. Now, I can say the only way I'm going to run is if I'm chased by a cheetah, or my personal trainer. I'm not sure which scares me more.

A story of two gals and 14 donuts

Admittedly, I have fallen off the blogger wagon. I feel like a slacker, and the thought of having to play catch up only fueled my procrastination. So, I'm not going to recap the last couple months. Let's be honest; No one likes/reads those massive long blog posts that rehash everything you did in the months since you last blogged.

That is my gift to you.  Now it's time for a story.

Once upon a time...today, more specifically...My coworker and I decided it was important to support local businesses.  Of course, the best way to do this is to make a purchase.

Basically, we wanted donuts.

We drove to Krispy Kreme all a-twitter with the excitement of the sugary delights to come.  Once inside we were assaulted by the sickly sweet smell of fried dough and dripping fresh frosting. It was little overwhelming and my memory got a little hazy after that.

We ordered a dozen glazed donuts.  To recap, there were only two of us, and we ordered a dozen.  Why would we do that?  Couldn't tell you; like I said my memory is fuzzy and filled with the cloud of a contact sugar high.

As we were about to leave, a KK employee asked if we would like a sample. This seemed pretty silly to me because we already bought a dozen, it's not like they needed to sell us on their product.  We had already committed ourselves to a donut binge.  The absolute last thing we needed was another donut.

Naturally, I said I would love a sample.  Again, I have zero reasoning behind this, and am convinced Krispy Kreme slips mild narcotics into the air systems.

Said sample was so fresh it burned my lip as I bit into it.  I have never been so OK with being burned as I was in that moment.  After polishing the donut off in the car regret began to sink in as the high faded.  I started to realize what had transpired; we purchased a dozen donuts, received 14 and there were still 12 left.  I was already sick off the first one, and the thought of eating any more made my stomach churn.

After I finished the second donut my self-esteem took a plummet, and I began to question every decision I had made past 10:00 AM.  Luckily, common sense began to make its way back into my sugar-addled brain.

And that's the story of why a dozen of my coworkers got a donut, courtesy of my sugar-instigated fugue state.

The End.

The World's Most Awkward Conversation

At the Subway Drive Thru window:

Employee: "Hi, how're you?"

Bre: "Uh, good.  And you?"

Employee: "Your total is $8.00"

I hand him my card, he stops in the middle of taking it from me.

Employee: "Oh, I'm good.  Having a good day."

Bre: "Well, good.  That's good."

"Employee: "Here's your sandwich."

Bre: "Thank you."

Employee: "And this is your drink."

Bre: "Thank you."

Employee: "Have a good night!"

Bre: "Thanks, you too." 

And I prepare to pull out.  Suddenly, he leans out the window.

Employee: "Looks like it's going to rain."

Bre: "Oh...really?"

Employee:  "Just look at those clouds, I think it's going to rain.  It's dark."

Bre: "Uh huh....Ok, bye!"

Employee: "See ya!"

And then I high-tailed it out of there.

Redemption Is MINE!

Today me and a bunch of coworkers went back to the Habitat for Humanity house for more team-building and volunteer work.  I was not looking forward to it after my last experience a mere three weeks ago.  If you're confused and would like to not be, you can read about it by clicking...here.

Now that you're all caught up, and fully understand why I was dreading a return visit, I'll continue with my story.

I spent some time trying to think of a good reason not to go, but couldn't find anything reasonable or believable and found myself once more on the build site.  I felt it was important to prove myself not completely incompetent and got right to work.  I was mainly able to do so because all there was to do at first was haul wood from the living room to outside, and any idiot could do that.

Then I got my assignment, and I'm not even sure how it landed in my lap, not if I would be able to pull it off.  I was told to build the windowsills and moldings.  Sounds complicated?  That's because it was.  I almost laughed when the foreman was giving instructions 'cause I couldn't believe he really expected me to be able to accomplish such a task.  It was a process with many many steps, involving four different kinds of saws and a nail gun.  And they let me play with power tools, even after the last time.

I had to measure the window, adding a bit for the lip, then cut a board to fit, saw around the lip, and nail the sucker down.  Then measure, cut and nail in the molding.  Considering I couldn't even measure right last time this is extra impressive.  I did six windows in total in the four hours that we were there.

I am freaking Bob Villa.  I'm considering starting my own home improvement show, with the only topic of building window sills and molding, 'cause that's all that I can do.  But I can make the crap out of them.  I am now convinced I should go into construction because I fancy myself a full on carpenter.

I should have taken a picture so you could really get the full effect, but didn't want to look like a dork taking a picture of (the world's best-fashioned) window sills.  Though, I suppose it's no less dorky to blog about making window sills...

It's safe to say I've redeemed myself, and can now show mysefl at Habitat for Humanity.  Can, but probably won't.  I think I've had my fill this year.

Where's The Humanity?

Today me and a couple coworkers went to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity as a team building exercise.  I felt pretty good about it because:

       1. I was still on the clock.
       2. I wasn't at work.
       3. I was doing charity.

I hate to admit, but that is in order with the happiest on the top.  I love helping other people, but unfortunately getting a paycheck out ranks that.

Ready to jump in and help out, I then came to the realization that I have zero knowledge on how to do anything regarding building a house.  I remembered the time where it took Jordan and I several hours to install an overhead fan in the living room.  And when I say "Jordan and I",  I really mean Jordan.

Yet, I felt confident there would be a place for me, something I could do to contribute, and possibly learn a skill.  Then I found out that we were going to be putting siding on a house.  (Excuse me while I blow the sawdust out of my nose...)

Basically the two jobs that were needed and available was to either climb up onto the second story of some very untrustworthy looking scaffolding to nail in the siding, or cut the wooden siding to specific sizes to fit around windows and what not.

I might have made a statement that I would rather die than climb up the rickety scaffolding, which is what probably would have happened had I attempted it.  So, I was to find a job while earth-bound.  Partnering up with a very nice and patient man, he suggested that I measure and mark the siding boards, and he would cut them. 

Sure.

I tried to make the first measurement, while he hung over my shoulder most apprehensively.  The measurement was 44 1/8.  When I pointed at a hash mark asked if that was right it must not have been because he suggested that he measure, and I cut.

Sure. 

I wanted to giggle that he was actually letting me operate a power saw, but thought that might not instill any more faith in my competency.  He instructed me on how to use the saw, and kept saying crazy things like, "Get your fingers away from the blade!".  I made my first shaky cut, then stopped, worried that I was doing it wrong.  He very patiently reiterated his instructions, and I was on my way.  I cut the crap out of that board.  But, I don't think I cut it the right length 'cause they sent it back to us saying it was too long.  Better too long than too short, I said confidently and we he remeasured.  I made another cut- less shaky, more straight and was so proud.  But then I heard someone from the scaffolding say, "This board is cut crappy."  I offered to let my partner give it a go, but he insisted I try again.  Bless his heart.  When it came back again still just a hair too short, I told the guy to go ahead and shave the excess off, saying I had faith that this board would be right if he were to cut it.  He graciously suggested that he could measure and cut if I would be so kind as to take the cut boards and toss them up to the guys on the scaffolding.

Sure.

I was doing ok with the long pieces that I could just hold up vertically and the scaffolding guys could reach down and grab, but then it took me six tries to toss the smaller boards high enough and accurately enough so the guy on the scaffolding could catch it, without dying at least.

After I messed up every job that I figured it was time for a lengthy water break and to get reacquainted with my kindle.  No one was complaining, that was for sure.  It's actually reaffirming that yes, I belong at a desk 'cause there is no way I would be able to hack it in construction.

I'm excited that my boss signed us up to go back in a couple weeks.

How To Survive an Alien Attack

Recently I have had four very vivid dreams about aliens attacking us.  One was scary, the second a coincidence and after the third I was convinced that these dreams were sent to me directly from the aliens themselves.  I believe they are testing out their methods of invasion on the human subconscious, to see how we might react when they invade.

Of course, their plan has backfired as now I know all their secrets and am fully prepared for an attack.  Because I care deeply about the human race, and its subsequent survival, I will share with you how to survive when the aliens come.

When you see the giant mother ship your first intinct is to either stop and stare, or freak out.  Neither of these will help you; they will send out their fighter jets lickity split, and those buggers are fast ya'll.  So gather your loved ones and make it to a safe place quickly.  You're going to want to get home, and I can't blame you 'cause that was what I wanted as well.  But that's what they want you to do.  They line their fighter jets up and down the streets and fire directly into the houses, knowing that's where people seek cover in.  This isn't so bad because they haven't figured out bombs yet, they just shoot large egg-shaped metal chunks, and are essentially punching holes into houses.  To outsmart them all you have to do is lay in your backyard, out in the open.  They don't expect that, and don't look for you there.  If you can build an underground bunker, all the better.

If you don't have a backyard and live in condos or apartments then you're going to have a much different experience.  They let groups of aliens off the ship to go through the apartments and clear them out manually.  You're probably thinking this sounds much worse, but while scary as all get out, you have a pretty good shot at coming through, and I'll tell you why.  They don't use firearms, they use swords.  They also do not fully understand what humans are capable of and are just as scared of us.  That is what's going to save you; they hesitate before attacking and very nervous about it.  Just make your move quickly, attack first and you'll be A-OK 'cause they die pretty easily.  I recommend keeping your own sword by the door of your house to be safe and prepared.

While lacking firearms and missiles, they do employ fireballs.  So have a lot of rootbeer on hand 'cause I learned from one dream that in a pinch rootbeer works great to put out fires, and you can shake it up so when opened the pressurized rootbeer will shoot up to get the higher flames you can't reach.

And the last point to remember is not to hate the individual alien, they are just following orders, and some of them are good chaps.  While they don't successfully take over Earth because we have the best military and were simply no match, some aliens stay behind to live amongst the humans 'cause we are that awesome.

I hope my tutorial has helped, and in the future you're able to survive the alien onslaught.

This guy already has a head start in defeating the alien race.  Way to go, comrade!