So I've come up with a plan to put more focus/organization into this blog. (I know, single slow clap in the distance). And it's called, an outline! Yes, not just for 8th grade book reports anymore! The blog outline can keep you in-line and focused so you can easily plan the day-to-day rants! WEll, here's how I see it going down:

Mondays' will be Dear Monday, followed by whatever horrendous events occured on the weekend or against me in any way, shape, or form.

Tuesdays' will be Top Ten Tuesdays when i count down something I came up with 5 seconds before it flew out of my fingers.

Wednesdays will be Whine-about-Wednesdays, you can use your imagination on that.

Thursdays will be Traffic Reports in which I regal you with some tale of my commuting adventures. I sit on K street for a full 20 minutes by a bus stop, you'd be surprised.

Fridays will be a Free for All.

I don't blog on weekends. It's against my religion. So, it keeping with my new outline, which I'll have to write on a post-it and stick somewhere so I don't deviate, I bring you my first:

Traffic Report Thursday
This week I felt like small vehicles get the shaft more often than not in traffic. I was cut off by an SUV behind a pick up I was trying to make space for so he'd stop lane straddeling and then -woooosh!! In comes the suburban. What the hell am I going to do? Nothing, thats' what. Happens all the time.
I thought for sure I actually witnessed an accident on Monday though. I'm sitting on K st (as always) and a cop car with it's lights on is coming towards me in the far right lane and then makes a wide Left turn into crossing pedestrians and stops short and gets out of the car. It's raining, it's dark, but I saw stuff (bags or brief case) on the ground in front of the patrol vehicle. Then I see the cop helping some girl in blue argyle move onto the sidewalk and she's covering her face with her hands. I swear this cop hit her with his car while making a completely illegal traffic maneuver. She was not in the crosswalk, but about 8-10 feet in front of it. I wonder how that will all go down in court. She didn't look hurt but if you get hit with a moving vehicle, I don't think it matters much how fast/slow they're going, it probably leaves a scratch or two. Is the cop going to get away with this move because she was technically 'jay walking'? I really hope not.
I always love how cops can just put their lights on and do whatever illegal traffic manuever they feel like. I mean, great if they're actually going to the scene of a crime (not creating one) but I bet 9 times out of 10 they're just late to get the videos back at Blockbuster or trying to make it to the McDonalds' drive-thru before they switch from breakfast to lunch. Cuz if I had that power, I'd use it to. The heck with sitting in traffic, turn on those lights!

I do have dreams.
Not the 'I want to be president someday' kind. Wierd-ass, where did that come from and why are you telling me kind. Since I've always bugged my mother with them and she's not there in the AM for it now, guess what? I"m sharing via blog!
Last night I had a dream in which the pope was very corrupt, just like any other man. ONly he was required to sign everyones tax return. WE were like buds (so not even religious) so he signed mine right away so I could go do whatever. I think I was waiting for the bus with a stick bug. I also was friends with a guy who owned a dive bar (also not true) and everyone at the college hung out there while waiting for the pope to sign taxes and get on a bus. It was tiny, wooden sticky floors, one wall windows, few tall tables and bar stools. Some person with a baby resembling the Benjiman Button baby with it's nose clogged with green snot wanted me to remedy the situation. I looked at it (eww) and was like "you want me to suck it out?" I declined and recommended one of those rubber ball syringes they use at hospitals for just that. Snot sucking. (may have something to do with my current lingering cold)
Then I got to go into the back 'residential' part of the bar, which was a giant palatial palace with a bowling alley and art gallery. I said to the dude I knew there was more to this building. It had long corridors and secret passageways. And wooden doors with windows like in old detective movies.
So themes would be me in on secrets, (not usually the case) still waiting for some random bus everyone is taking to somewhere, snot, bugs, and there was a girl that I was friends with, a black girl and she and I kept crossign paths while preparing for this bus.
And a special thanks to Chloe for waking me up at 3:30AM to open a water bottle, after which I had trouble falling back asleep and wanted to cry at the idea of getting up at 7:anything AM.

Dear Monday,
What did I ever do to you? I'm not sure what it is lately, but I dont' like it. Is it the weather? January tends to give everyone Seasonal Effective Disorder (i.e. SAD thank you 30-Rock) but it's actually 61 degrees out here in D.C. in January which tops the temperatures I experienced in Key West on vacation 2 weeks ago -which does sort of piss me off that not only did I pay for a flight, dog-boarding, rental car, but I wasted 56 hours of PTO for what was hailed as coldest temperature in 112 years. Thanks weather gods. Thanks a friggin LOT.

In the past I've been claiming I have no goals, well guess what? I have decided on a goal: Move to the West coast. Mud-slides, earthquakes, bankrupt state, and wild-fires be damned. I want to live in California. Despite the fact I have never actually been to California, I know I belong there. I am quirkly, creative, hate working, look good with beach hair, own a dog. I mean, what more do I need?

I think that certain people fit in in certain places better, and I'm just not really cut-out for D.C. I don't like wearing black. I only have one pair of black shoes, I refuse to carry a black purse, don't care about politics AT ALL, and I've said time and time again my lack of career goals. Ambiton, meh. My sister in law, she belongs here. She LOVES it here, she LovES politics, she's ambitious as all get out. She actually knows what is going on here, me, really my sole source of world news is the Express my coworker hands me every morning and maybe an episode of the Daily show. She wears black all the time. I'm that wierd one in the cubicle with all the color swatches b.c. the drab grey is killing my spirit. Look at me, I have on a multi-ruffled dress and leggings with Lacoste flats. I so don't fit in here. So, i've decided once of for all: I need to live on the west coast where at the very least it's sunny. Even when everything else is going wrong, the weather is great!

How I will accomplish this goal, I am not sure yet. It would be easier if I knew someone in Cali, if I knew ANYONE in cali, if my job would just transfer me there or if I could even sell my G.D. house in this market, but so far none of those things are coming to fruition. I'll have to work on that. If anyone has ever done a coastal relocation I'd like to hear how that went. In the meantime, I will be mentally estimating which of my worldly belongings are worthy of a coastal relocation, and purging the rest via craigslist and ebay and good old salvation army. It was a lot easier to move when everything fit in my car but I suppose those days are gone. I really am serious about this so I will consider this:

Day 1 of Project Coastal Relocation. Now, I will make my interests known to Corporate and see what might be available for me in their Newport office.

Daily Rant
Welp, I have said that blogs are just online-bitching so I might as well vent. I try not to complain too much about work, since it is a paycheck that keeps me from shoving over the scary homeless dude on the bench outside and taking up permanent residence there but! there are just those repeated things that I can not shake.

I am a graphic designer. This means I actually went to college and took courses in how to make shit look good. Which is great, because I do just that every day. I do my besties to make ugly horrible real estate, look leasable. But, the brokers are NO help what-so-ever. My absolute favorite is when they take something perfectly fine and then decide to throw a whole bunch more crap in there, do their own re-design mock up and then follow it up with "or whatever you think is best.."

Let me tell you what I think is best: the first draft I gave you. Yes drafts are for tweaking, but let me assure you, they mostly go down hill from there when these guys get involved. I realize ads are expensive but trust me, no one is going to read that shit if I have to add so much in it's down to a 5pt font. Guess what? They won't read anything smaller than 24pt so less = more. I can't tell them that though. They insist on adding logos, bullet points, starburst stickers, and useless information until it's so mucked up it's not ever going near my portfolio.

Whatever you think is best.

Why don't you give me the grainiest picture you can find, take a 5kb logo off the web, and add 3 pages of text to an quarter page ad. Looks great!

I'm done here.

A Hard Days Night
I just got back from lunch with an old friend who went from working a few more hours a week than I do, to probably double the hours. Sadly, he isn't getting paid much (yet) for his efforts. I feel like I get paid fairly decent, but the thought of working those hours makes me want to weep, it's just not worth it to me. ON the other hand, had I chosen to be a gym teacher I could work about a third of what I do, have the entire summer off, 2 weeks at Christmas, A week in FEbruary, a week in April, a week full of sick days, and still get paid the same. It also breaks my fragile little green heart.

So I come back to my cubical of dreams and putz around a little and stumble upon this little article:
http://wonderwall.msn.com/movies/confirmed-vince-vaughn-weds-1532080.story?GT1=28135#wallState=2__/movies/lindsay-lohan-claims-friend-robbed-her-1532163.story
The part that caught my attention was that our dear friend Lindsay Lohan was on vacation when she was allegedly wronged. On Vacation.

Now correct me if I am wrong, but being on vacation is a term reserved for those people whom, up until that particular point, were actually working. When is the last time Lohan actually put in a days work? 2004? Forgive me, but a days worth of fake tanning, snorting coke, avoiding carbs, and getting your clavical bones sharpened while lugging around a $3000 Louis Vuitton bag you probably got for FREE is not considered work no matter how difficult it is for your under-nuriched body to support itself, let alone a bag you can fit into. There is a huge difference from being on vacation and being unemployed. You, my friend, are the latter.
Just because you decided to jet off to some other location that has palm trees and frozen drinks to wash down your coke with and some other hotel rooms for you to stay in doesn't make it a vacation for you, it makes it a Tuesday. When your day already consists of spa treatments, mai-tais before noon, unlimited shopping sprees, and someone else screening your calls, my idea of a vacation would actually be work to you.