Wednesday, September 27, 2006


As a follow up to yesterday's post regarding the outward display of the company 'dog tags', I was officially carded for the first time this morning. There have been a few 'break ins' over the past year, so my fellow employees are trying to be more diligent. We have been advised to make sure that anyone entering the secure doors shows a badge and can't let anyone 'piggy back' their way in. If we see any maintenance workers, we need to make sure they have a 'visitor' badge on them. Most recently, someone posing as a maintenance worker followed someone in and stole a few wallets and purses from cubes. A few years back a few laptops were stolen.

Apparently, me waltzing in at 11:15am was a cause for concern.. and, no, I wasn't hungover - I had PT this morning. I'm a casual commuter so I wear running shoes, shorts, and a T shirt. I'm looking very laid back. Well, the other lesbian that works on my floor/wing, who has seen me everyday for at least the past year, asked to see my badge before we both entered through the secured doors. I wanted to play the, "Hey, we're family!" card, but thought I'd save it for another more appropriate time.. like at a company happy hour when I'm a little tipsy.

I understand her concern, of course. And I WAS reaching into my pocket for my badge before she asked to see it. And I'm sure I wouldn't have been carded if I used my handy-dandy belt clip badge holder to proudly display my affiliation with the company. None the less, it is good to see other trying to prevent future thefts... BUT I'VE WORKED HERE 4 YEARS! We're not *that* big of a company. Criminy.. get to know a few of your coworkers and, oh, maybe hold the door open for them once in awhile.

I think I'll attend the "Live Safe America: 3 A-s of Living Safe: Awareness, Avoidance & Action" class/meeting this Friday. I'm hoping to learn some 'action' moves so I can roundhouse kick someone to the face.

Don't try piggybacking in with me!

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Corporate Branding

It's not that I don't like where I work at, but I'm not one to advertise it. You won't see me walking around wearing a polo shirt with the company name stiched on it, or using an umbrella with our logo on it, or storing my trusty lunch in a lunchbag of our company colors.

I've been trying to avoid it for the 4.5 years I've been year and have done so with great success, but there comes a time..

... when you wear your ID badge on a retractable clip.

In the past, I had been carrying my badge in my pocket. I didn't want to be one of the dorks with it clipped to a belt loop or around there neck on a shoestring. Maybe it's okay in the office, but once you're out the door, take the friggin thing off. You look cool as is riding the metro in your black business attire and flipflops, but for the love of god, I don't care what government office you work in. Especially lose the 'dog tags' at Happy Hour somewhere on the hill. I know for "identification purposes" you have to wear it like that, and that's fine.. at your place of business. God invented pockets and purses and handbags for a reason - use them outside of the office. He also invented shoes other than flipflops. Take advantage of his gifts.

I sit in my cube in wrinkled jeans, a waffleknit shirt, and Crocs. My badge and keys are in my pockets. I refuse to conform.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Battle Scars

Peer pressure wasn't what made me do it. It was wanting to get back into playing a team sport. Who knew it would be so much fun, yet so painful at the same time.

I feel like the walking wounded.

I grew up playing little league softball and started in on basketball in the 7th grade and then volleyball once I started high school. After graduation, I went on to play softball in college as well as intramural basketball and flag football. After graduation I started doing running races and then triathlons in 2001, but played slowpitch softball from time to time. I loved being part of a team, so when I met someone in early August who played rugby, I jumped at the chance to give it a shot.

What was there to lose?

Well, I've lost the ability to turn my neck from side to side, lift my right arm above my head without a 'hitch', I walk with a bit of a gimp, and making a fist is a bit of a struggle.. as is rotating my left forearm. Most of this is a problem only 3 days of the week - after practice and after games.

The kicker?

I dig it.

I dig the rush of tackling and being tackled. Of being in the middle of scrum or at the bottom of a ruck. Of walking away from a practice exhausted after 2 hours plus 45 minutes of sprints beforehand. I dig the camaraderie. I dig the post match socials and all the hoopla involved. I dig waking up sore wondering why I hurt everywhere and reliving the match in my mind to try and figure out when it all happened. I dig looking in the mirror to see a bruise the shape of a teardrop in the corner of my eye or one that looks like a stain on my chin..

.. and I can't wait to do it all over again..

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

the end of summer

Coworker #1 to Coworker #2 - "Can you do anything about the temperature in here?"

Coworker #2 replies, "Why?"

C1 - "It's freezing in here."

C2 - "It's not that bad."

C1 - "Not that bad? Look at Jen's hands.. feel them."

C2 feels them. "Kinda cold."

C1 - "Kinda? They're ice blocks. And her fingertips are purple. So can you talk to someone about turning up the heat?"

C2 - "Oh.. she's just cold because she's a vegetarian."

C1 and I stare blankly at C2.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

This is an actual (paraphrased) exchange from 3 years ago. It happens every year in my office, and apparently only on the floor I work on. Since then, my group moved from floor 2 on the old side to floor 5 on the new side. You'd think heat would rise, right? Not when the temp is set at 62.

It doesn't help that my hands, feet, ears, and nose are usually cold, but when most of my coworkers are wearing jackets inside, you know something is wrong. I know my company is cheap and like to keep heating costs low, but this is ridiculous. And I know most of my coworkers aren't vegetarians, so that can't be why they're cold.

I would say "can't wait until they turn the heat on", but even then, I'll be cold.. and people will bitch about it being too warm.

Can't win.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

All Hail the Queen

I've been a fan of Queen Latifah's for awhile.. moreso for her movies than for her singing. You have to admit that she looked good in "Chicago".. (those were some bodacious tata's!!) So I want to share one of my few stories from Montreal that I'm willing to share.

The chick to my left in the picture below is from Seattle. She and I were walking to a bar together one night and we got to chatting about clothes and shopping. I told her how I hate shopping because nothing fits. On top of that, I hate seeing myself in the mirror and I admitted to having a poor body image. She admitting that she hates shopping, too, as she's short and squatty and has a hard time finding jeans that fit.

She told me is in a relationship with a woman and they have been together about a year. Things are going great. She said one thing about her new love that has been different from those is the past is how she is treated. Her new love adores her body and she loves that. It makes her feel better about herself.

She also told me about a scene from the movie "Barbershop 2" with Queen Latifah. I haven't seen the movie, but she said Queen asks a guy if the jeans she's wearing makes her butt look big. He says, "Yes." Queen replies, "Good.." slaps her ass, and saunters away.

And she told me that whenever she's feeling bad about her body, she thinks of that scene. QL is by no means skinny and she knows that, but she carries herself well. She's proud of her body.

So when my friend is having a bad body day, she says to herself "Queen Latifah".

I've been saying that to myself a lot recently.

I met someone after Montreal. We've gone out a few times since then and are really hitting it off. She's a great person and I find myself getting those butterflies in my stomach again. It's a good thing. She's a good thing. She is good to me. She is better to me than I am to myself. I can't say how many times I've thought 'why me? what is it she sees in me?' and I've told her this many times. She knows about my reservations about my body.. and for some reason she likes my body. I don't get it. I honestly don't get it. And there a gazillion other single lesbian fish out there I know would be dying to be in my shoes, to be able to get to know such an amazing person.

So I find myself muttering 'Queen Latifah' under my breath, trying to muster up the confidence of The Queen.

I've also been saying, "when you're good to mamma, mamma's good to you," in hopes that mantra has some 'luck' behind it, too.

heck.. doesn't hurt to try!