How the Writer's Strike Will Affect Your Favorite TV Shows

After watching the Packers suffer a crushing defeat at the hands of the 'Boys, I was perusing the net and found this link. Helpful if you want to check out which of your favorite shows are going to be delegated to re-run city.

Also, TO is overrated and I just dont like the guy.

Procrastination et al.

I should be working on various cover letters and updating my resume. Actually I did that the better part of the morning so I'm allowed some leeway. I also managed to catch up on the new Pushing Daisies episode and create a new JibJab video (not for kids). What a productive morning.

Last night I attended a storytelling night that involved a good friend, 7n7's and cigarettes. A few good stories, one hilarious one. The last story told quelled all my fears of creating some thought-provoking, deep, introspective non-fiction piece. The story was a simple, yet highly humorous account of feeling out of place among the upper crust, elite society of Chanel and couture-wearing witches. It made me realize that I didnt have to have some out of body experiences to be able to write compelling non-fiction prose. Perhaps most of you already knew this but the realization to me finally sunk in last night. So thank you, storyteller, you changed my perspective.

I have decided that I'm going to do my Pilates video every day. Maybe if I get really ambitious, I"ll do two workouts in the morning and one at night. (Note: really ambitious should read: really really really ambitious and there is nothing else to do and I'm bored out of my mind.) I've heard people say its all about discipline and that working out does make you feel good and releases endorphins and endorphins make you happy, etc. but there are tons of other things that make me happy so I'll pick from those until I'm out of options.

I have not heard back yet about my interview. I'm 75% disappointed and 25% apathetic. I wanted the job but do not think I put forth a solid effort in relaying that message. So, part of me is angry with myself for putting forth less than 100% but the other part of me is thinking: WTF? Its not a complicated job and I've had tons of related experience. Why the hell not pick me? But then again, if you told someone you had good verbal and oral communications skills, then corrected yourself and then made an awkward joke about how verbal and oral are the same thing...well, would you want to work with a person like that?

And why is it that Chinese food is so satisfying in the moment but then later you feel the gurgle in your belly and high tail it to the restroom as quick as humanely possible?

Narcissism at it's best

Like, I said: Narcissism at it's best.

You will also enjoy this little video of Mags. I love you, cousin.

Interview Schminterview

So, today I had an interview and I was super nervous because I'm not THAT good at dancing. I mean, I knew I had to have a routine prepared but I only had the music on a mix tape and apparently no one owns a boombox with a cassette player. Come to think of it, I'm not sure many people own a boombox anymore. Anyway, since my music wasnt functioning properly, I offered to interpretative dance if they had a beach ball handy. Sadly, they didnt. They decided we would sit in the lotus position and they would ask me questions. After the usual rigmarole of questions such as What is your favorite word? and Why did the chicken cross the road?, we moved on the tough stuff like, Do you think Superman killed his parents or who makes a better Superman: Brandon Routh or Christopher Reeve? After some serious sweating, they then decided to have a taste test. I would alternately try different brands of soda pop and try to guess which was which. I accurately identified the RC Cola from the Coca-Cola and even succeeded in naming a foreign Coca-Cola product from Singapore. Then came the physicals. I had to shave an extremely hairy dog in less than 2 minutes. I didnt finish shaving the dog but did manage to construct the perfect Beckham updo on an unfortunate French poodle. They liked it so much, they all posed with my creation. After that, they took me out for lobster and steak.
I think I'm shoe-in for the position.

It wasnt what I expected but at least it was better than spending all morning stressing and preparing answers and then taking two buses to the location only to have them spend less than 10 minutes with you to find out you suck at life.

Stay tuned for those photos.

This or That

Sometimes, I want to know what other people are thinking. Since I dont have ESP or any fun superpower, the best way to find out is be inquisitive. So, in honor of being proactive, I want to know what you like better. It's also possible that you will have no opinions on these topics whatsoever. But humor me.

Coke or Pepsi?
Jessica Alba or Jessica Biel?
Fleece or Cotton?
Fajitas or Burritos?
Bruce Willis or Nicholas Cage?
Die Hard or Terminator?
Paperback or Hardcover?
ABC or NBC?
The Office or Arrested Development?
Tom Cruise or Cindy Sheehnan?
Rain or Snow?
Sweet or Salty?
Cold or Hot?
Rome or Paris?

I need to shave.

That would be the caption to go with the picture to my right.

It's all about the salad bowl

I've been reading numerous posts regarding Thanksgiving traditions and how everyone has their own trepidations of the holiday or other families have the perfect holiday and everyone gets along splendidly like the Brady Bunch and how the family that prays together stays together. Yes, yes, this is all very true but in my family, when it comes to holidays, its all about the salad bowl.

I'm not talking about pretty Aunt Mamie's giant salad bowl that holds your favorite spinach and strawberry salad but rather the cutthroat competition that involves charades, word association and, as my brother and I call it, word vomit. See salad bowl is a game and not just any game but a true test of knowledge, acting ability and familial connection. I could explain the game here but that would take too long and well, you just wouldnt get it. You have to experience it.

Now, my family is not perfect. We have issues. We tend to be loud, we tend to be on the overly competitive side and we tend to get somewhat sensitive over comments made during the heat of the battle. But in the end, when all is said and done, we crack a few beers and laugh about how my uncle tried to get us to guess "Yoga for Kids" by rolling around on the floor in the fetal position. Or how my cousin chose the word virgin and we watched with delight as my father awkwardly tried to demonstrate the word. Before you start to think, what an immature, honky, disgusting family, I will also mention how Homer, magic realism, binary fission and gerund managed to make it into the bowl.

You see, salad bowl connects our family. The young and the old. And we dont just play it on holidays, we play it every time there are at least 5 family members present. And since we live in close proximity and insist on getting together every time an opportunity presents itself, we play a lot of salad bowl.

We learn more about eachother in those 2 hours than we could sitting around the dinner table. There is no better way to get to know your cousin than when the game is tied and he has to make you guess the phrase: Meningitis is really getting me down by only using one word. There is no better feeling that high fiving your brother after he scores 15 points in one round in the hardest stage of the game. Or laughing hysterically when your uncle picks the names of three people he knew in high school and then forgetting what he wrote down leaving you and the rest of your teammates in a huge bind as you try to make them guess the name Ezra Chupp.

There are moments of weakness but they also bring about glimpses of character. Like when your 10 year old cousin is trying to make his team guess the term 12th Man and your dad gets up and prances around like an idiot just to help him out.

Our salad bowl game is a tradition. And I believe it makes us stronger as a family. Sure there are moments of frustration, words being said, names being thrown around but in the end, what family doesnt have those brief moments? Fortunately, we have a little friendly competition to use as an outlet and even if tempers flare in the living room, they are extinguished outside as two opposing players instantly bond over Uncle Howie's hilarious interpretation of Julia Childs in the kitchen or your own over the top impression of Cyndi Lauper.

We love the game. We love eachother and thats what its all about in the end. A family is nothing but a group of people who have deep unconditional love for one another. In the end, the family that plays together, stays together. And we plan on playing together for a long, long time.

Nannies vs Babysitters

What is the difference really? In my mind, there is no difference. However, if you want me to come up with a difference, I could arguably say that a nanny is during the day and babysitters come at night. However, I didnt think there was a huge distinction between the two...until today.
I was bannying (my portmanteau for nanny + babysitting) today and my young charge and I decided to go outside and race up and down the sidewalk. As we were reveling in our little game, a neighboring mom approached with her little girl. My young charge and the young girl were quite familiar with eachother so they set off to play some spritely game of their own. As this typical-mom-who-lives-in-Old Town-but-would-probably-be-better-suited-living-in-Lincoln Park and I watched the young girls, she asked the usual how are you, whats your name type questions. I responded with all the right answers. She then asked, "Now, are you the regular nanny?" I didnt know how to respond because a.) it was really early b.) I hadnt had anything to eat c.) The woman was carrying a grocery bag with feminine products and other "items" that were broadcasting her sex life in plain sight so I was distracted and d.) the woman I babysit for is super cool and I dont necessarily nanny or babysit, I just hang out with the kids while she works in her home office for a few hours.

I said, "Naw, Im just the..." and before I could finish this mom looked down her nose and finished the sentence for me with an air of disdain, "...babysitter." As if the very word made her feel all dirty inside and out.

I smiled politely and then grabbed her bag of groceries and made like a hammer thrower and flung her belongings as far as I could into oncoming traffic.

Eggs and Bacon

I'm starving right now. S-T-A-R-V-I-N-G. There are bacon and eggs in the fridge and if I was the least bit proactive, I would get up and make them. But I'd rather sit on my ass and talk about the bacon and eggs and how hungry I am until someone gets the hint and says, well asiankp would you like me to make you some. And then I can hem and haw for a while, all the while they are insisting they can make it and finally I'll relent with some big sigh and say I'll do the dishes to show that I am grateful and helpful. In the end, I'll get what I want because when it comes to bacon and eggs, there is no better motivator. In getting what you want.

A Little Over a Year...

Today I had some extra time so I decided to look over some old posts from the beginning of the year. I wanted to see if my blogging style had changed and in what capacity. It was weird reading what I wrote so many months ago and it occurred to me how many different things I've done. It may not be all that impressive to you but to me, its pretty interesting to see where I've come and where I've gone even though I may not, currently, be happy with the result. So, its been a little over a year since I started this blog. In that time, the following significant events have occurred (not in order):

-Interned/freelanced with the casting company
-Bears went to the Super Bowl
-Worked in a new age spa as housekeeping
-Observed one co-worker perform Native American rituals in the closet
-Learned there is such thing as a feng shui haircut
-Failed to enter World Series of Pop Culture again
-Got married
-Appeared in the Red Eye paper
-Drank so much that I stripped naked in the middle of a play
-Went to New York to visit a friend
-Taught 7/8th grade girls about virtues
-Had triplets
-Worked for a PR/Marketing/Communications company
-Attended 3 weddings
-Developed bunions on my ass from so much sitting and not enough moving
-Almost went to Asia
-Got divorced
-Produced a one-man musical comedy
-Did the Muddy Buddy
-Joined the circus as the bearded lady
-Fell off the Ferris Wheel
-Got fired
-Learned to fly planes and then crashed one killing 8 people
-Went to Colombia
-Got arrested for smuggling drugs back into the states

So, thats where I'm at now. Its amazing how much does or doesnt happen in a little over a year.

Won't You Be My Neighbors

Since I missed a total of 3 days so far in NaBloPoMo, does that mean I'm inadequate for this type of exercise or is it some greater sign that I'm consistently inconsistent in things that require everyday committment? I dont really know and I guess I dont really care. Its not part of my "perspective" at the moment.

In other news, while I've been slumming at home, my car has taken another beating. Nothing to equal the caliber of the rear end incident but still a beating. My parents neighbors backed into my car the other day smashing the drivers side tail light. Now, usually such a thing would send me off in a verbal litany of insults but since I'm the idiot who smashed my mothers side mirror while backing out of the garage a couple months ago, I've decided I am not one to pass judgement on poor driving.

Anyway, my neighbors being the friendly ones that they are, left me a kind note saying they will pay for all the damages, etc. They even taped the broken pieces of the light to my window in a sign of good faith.

So, I got the car fixed (the only productive thing I've done all week besides applying for random online jobs) and I have the bill waiting for them. Nothing too steep. $100 or so. I call my neighbors asking if when a good time to bring over the bill would be and she responds, tomorrow sometime. She then asks if I have roommates in Chicago. I reply positively. She then asks if we like wine. Again, I insist that we do, even though, I dont drink wine nearly as much as I should. She then says, oh honey, thats just great...we'll throw in a couple extra bottles of wine for your trouble.

I seriously live in Mr. Roger's neighborhood. Its awesome. So my roomies, wine is on the way.

The Phone Voice

I want my own personal talkie. Not a walkie talkie, but a talkie. Allow me to elaborate. For the past couple of days, I've had to make phone calls to various people who are strangers to me. They do not know me but they know someone who knows me. I want something from them. Something they can give pretty easily if they like you. Isnt networking fun? However, a majority of this getting to know you biz is done over the phone and it sucks and its awkward and hey thats life. I hate the sound of my own voice. In fact, I hate the sound of my own voice so much that I feel the need to blog about it every 2 months or so. ANYWAY, production companies usually hire voice actors to do voice overs for various things so I figure, why cant I hire a 'talkie.' You know...I could just go to the "voice store" and customize my very own talkie and then I would feed it/her/him (havent figured out the gender thing yet) the words I'd like and it would come out pitch perfect and friendly without being fake, cheery but not ditzy, serious but not monotone, sharp but not caustic, etc. In essence, it would be the perfect voice saying the perfect things. Granted, it would not be prepared to think on its own so I would have to continually feed it lines but it would be great if it could factor in the other person's tone and then adjust accordingly. Like if the person on the other end was getting impatient in tone, then the 'talkie' would speak slightly faster than normal. It would just be great to not have to think that someone who I've never met is judging me based on the sound quality of my voice which, I believe, sounds like scratchy pre-pubescent girl.

Frustration Station

I am SO incredibly frustrated right now, I dont know what to do. This is probably the entirely wrong medium upon which to vent but I'm not a big YouTuber and I dont believe in Myspace. Facebook would have too many people asking questions so my semi-private blog will have to do.

I am currently unemployed. Funemployment is the term I give it so people do not think that I'm depressed or upset that I'm out of work. Here's the thing. I'm not depressed. But I am upset. But its more than upset with not having a job and it goes beyond the "what will people think of me" feeling. I'm upset that I cant figure out what I'm supposed to do in life. I'm upset that it seems so gosh darn easy for other people to figure out what they want to do in life and then they do it. I'm upset that some people have their dream job fall right into their lap. Maybe its unfair for me to assume that no one else has issues when it comes to finding a purpose and a path in life and I'm sure that everyone goes through their own trials and their own inner turmoil but I'm not writing about them. I suffer from a lack of confidence and I'm not really sure how to get over it. I also cannot understand my lack of motivation at this point. Where's my motivation? I feel like most of my days are spent searching for jobs online and applying but it just so happens that only 2% of people get hired via internet job search. So my chances of being that 2% are pretty damn slim.

Sometimes, I want to just throw it all out the window. Literally, package up all this stress and seal with duct tape and throw it out the window. I would love to watch that thing hit the ground and shatter into 3489239487 billion pieces and then get swept up by some street cleaner taken somewhere to never be seen again.

But, then again, I feel like all this stress is a part of growing and as cliche as it sounds, all this will turn out to be some magnificent experience in the end. All this networking bullshit, as stupid as it sounds, will be the thing that saved my life and my sanity. Currently though, my mood is not this light and I'm grasping for perspective here. And I can't seem to find it.

Also, Spiderman 3 is about the worst movie I've ever seen and it is 2.5 hours of my life wasted that I will never get back.

Have you Ever Reached that point in your life where you just want to go to sleep forever not because you are tired physically...but because you

Are just mentally tired out with life? Thats where I'm at. Call me Rip Van Winkle.

In lieu of the writers strike...

Last night as I settled down to watch The Office, I decided to flip flop back and forth between commercials and Greys Anatomy. I was bored. While on ABC, I noticed several advertisements on for shows that were "making a comeback." Both of these shows, Notes from the Underbelly and October Road, are awful. Simply awful. Both were cancelled after several weeks due to low ratings. I think October Road finished out the season but only online (?). Anyway, it was rumored that both shows were written to be ABC's next big hits and I imagine that full seasons of episodes were written. However due to high quality suckage, the shows were cancelled. However, due to a writers strike, I suspect that good material is being hard to come by and networks are being forced to drudge up less than mediocre material to fill time slots and not completely piss off viewers. Hence, two completely asinine shows will air in the coming weeks. Dont miss it. Or miss it. Run the other way, actually.

In other news, tonight I'm playing with several other faculty members in a basketball game versus the varsity girls team. To prepare, I had an extra cup of coffee this morning and not one, but two cigarettes. Best shape of my life.

My Apologies

I feel like NaBloPoMo brings out the long posts in me. Ehh...what can you do?

"It's not racist, it's ethnic."

For the past couple weeks, off and on, I've been working at this school. Just helping out, doing administrative randomness for my friend who also happens to be the assistant head of school. It's nice to have friends in high places. Anyway, today she told me that a certain department required extra help as the school is having a huge open house this weekend. Not knowing whats in store and against my better judgment, I agree. Ridiculousness then ensued.

This woman, who shall remain nameless, is disgustingly blunt and caustic. She is one of those people who says really harsh things under the guise of humor but the kind of humor that only people who have known you for 20 years will get. She is also incredibly nosy. But thats another story for another time. Anyway, somehow we get on the topic of ethnic people...can't really remember how it happened because thats how random this woman is. One minute we are discussing how admission standards have decreased and the next minute, we are discussing how her husband and her sons are so "ethnic." Ethnic. I'm thinking maybe she married some Indian or some Middle Easterner, but no, I've seen her son and he's as white as sour cream and as short as a mushroom. I digress. So back to ethnicity. Knowing full well that she is not married to a foreigner, I ask what she means. "Oh you know, my husband and son are SO ethnic. Like my daughter-in-law is Jewish and my sons always call her the Jew...like right to her face. They love to give her a hard time. They say that stuff to her all the time, right to her face and its so funny." Asiankp figures she is joking. She continues, "Like my husband and I love Mexicans...we have even had 2 or 3 of them stay with us like every year and we always go there but my husband will always say, 'I love Mexico but the problem is there are too many damn Mexicans here. And then all the Mexicans will laugh and say, Oh mister b. you is sooo funny.'" Again, silence on my end. But she is not done. "Oh geez and my sons, they are so ethnic too, I mean, my sister in law is Italian and they always say to her face, 'I'd tell you but then I'd have to kill you. Hohoho...you know its so funny." Again, decidedly not funny.

Finally, after silence for a while she says, "Well, my husband will probably get beat up or shot someday with the way he talks, I mean he's just so ethnic he cant help it sometimes. One day, I'm gonna like find him in the alley and say, 'Who did this to you, was it the spics or the mexs'? I mean, he really has it coming. But he's just so ethnic you know. Like for example, my other sister-in-law is Asian and so we always say to her, 'Hey Sandy, who brought the rice? Or Sandy, did you forget the rice? I mean, my family is so crazy. We are just so crazy and ethnic, we love to give people a hard time. But they find it so funny, you know. They do."

Hmm...I understand a little ethnic joke every now and again, but really, dont pretend that your husband is so "ethnic" when he's so not. Maybe me and my Asian mafia will come by your house and chop off his head with our samurai swords. Now, that would be funny.

Random Thoughts

What would it be like to be a mail person? In my current state of funemployment, I've been thinking about all kinds of work and recently have been perusing the Chicago state department website for job opportunities. Now, one of the links on the site is for the US Postal Service and they are in need of carriers. I can just imagine sorting through mail and seeing that Joe Blow over here receives Men's Health and Sports Illustrated and Susie Q on Elm Street likes to recieve Women's Wear Daily and the Eddie Bauer catalogue. Susie's daughter has a yearly subscription to Tiger Beat or Sweet Sixteen Popstars Hunky Guys magazine. Then later, when I'm at a bar and I meet this same Joe Blow, I can freak the living daylights out of him by spouting off his name and address and what magazines he recieves and ask him how he liked the feature in Men's Health about how to avoid itch in your jockstrap. What fun I would have...

Another random thing, winter makes me feel bloated and tired all the time. Its disgusting, really. So in an attempt to fight off these feelings, I have agreed to play ultimate frisbee this evening in the frigid night air. The problem is I can't find my lucky hat or my long johns so the feelings of bloating and fatigue are washing over me like a warm bath.

And yet another, my roommates and I watched a random movie last night. Reign Over Me with Adam Sandler and Don Cheadle. The movie was, like I said, random and I dont think I'll ever watch it again but my roommate noted that Don Cheadle's nose was so incredibly large that the thought overshadowed the entire evening and I couldnt concentrate on the plot or the acting because I was so distracted by Don's incredibly large schnozz. Dont you hate that when that happens?

And still another, if two members of the opposite sex meet on a certain day every week, would that not in fact be called dating?

The Art of the Insult

Today I was working at this school when the assistant director of admissions came up to say her usual "welcome, thanks for filling in, you are a really big help" speech. Admissions directors always rub me the wrong way because they have that permanent goofy smile on their face even at 7:30am. Anyway, as I grab the free bagels and schmear, she taps me on the shoulder. I've prepared a little speech, something that explains why I'm there, why I dont have a real job, my credentials, what I'm looking for, etc. I'm fully prepared for the cheerful patrol. Instead, she taps me on the shoulder and says, "How old are you dear? Because you look like you are 12 years old. I mean, 12 years old. Gosh, how do you like that?" I pause. How do I like that? How do I like that you think I'm effin 12 years old? Part of me wants to whip out a cigarette and a 7 and 7 and blow smoke in her face and say, Listen lady, would a 12 year old do this and then grab the nearest man and start fornicating right there in the teachers lounge. Unfortunately, this is an all girls school.
I'm not really sure what to say so I curtly smile and say, "No Grandma, I'm 24 years old."

Another thing: Hollywood writers on strike. I guess you can only spin the Iraq war so many ways.

Another thing: Katie Holmes ran the NYC marathon. What a beast! But the best thing I heard was TMZ's dubbing of little Suri the "Scientolotot."

Failure to Launch

So...I've already failed in the great blogging experiment by missing a day. Yesterday, Sunday, I did not blog. But come on, even God needed one day of rest when creating the world so I should be excused. Because I am a god as well. A blogging god. Not the God, but a god. With that in mind, I'll be sure to post later from my lofty perch.

Raviolis for Grandma...

In college, I took a Children's Literature course. It was awesome. The teacher was a lovable old curmudgeon with more opinions than Dear Abby but she knew her stuff. Anyway, for our final project, we had to write and illustrate a children's book of our own. I decided to write mine for my late grandmother who loved pigs and loved to cook. It was called: Irene, A Pig's Tail. It was, in my opinion, the best book ever. I'm not going to reiterate the story here but it was a fine homage to my late grandmother who was probably the closest relative I have that will achieve sainthood.

Anyway, all the women of the family are meeting this afternoon to take part in the ravioli-making tradition. We eat raviolis for Christmas dinner so we make all the raviolis by hand which is a fun yet grueling process that involves more than one brusied ego and ruined raviolis. Then we watch the men take turns admiring their new guns and gambling and talking about their next hit. After all, we are an Italian family.

Lewd, Crude and a Battitude.

I realize that my previous post contained possible "bathroom humor" commonly found hilarious by preteen boys and immature college students. However as a college graduate with a seemingly sophisticated palate of interests and activities, I too, find it hilarious. So for those of you who found it out of taste and gross, I say, get over yourself. I could have talked about the uterus or something if you wanted to get real nasty and I dont think you do. Uterus...thats fun to say.

Speaking of fun words, today's urban dictionary world of the day was: cinematard. This is probably the best word I've heard all week. Since I live with a bunch of cinematards, I thought, great, here is a word I can throw around and have it catch on faster than my FUBAR kick. Spread it, use it, love it. Cinematard. The best thing is that the word can easily be changed into cinematurd. Why is it that all the fun words usually revolve around the buttocks? Is there something inherently funny about the buttocks or maybe its what the buttocks is known for producing...I"ll never know.

I hope to someday move away from this shit and on to some more sophisticated humor. Oh crap. That will never happen. Some caca crazy person will find their way into my life and I'll be forever surrounded by the poo. I guess thats life.

Gassy Gurl...

My friend recently blogged about her fear of urinating in a public restroom and having conversations with her aged boss while urinating. She seems to have a disorder called "pee fright." Well, I myself suffer from a little thing called gassy gurl disorder. In gassy gurl disorder, one cannot help but repeatedly and consistently pass gas in public. With each offending toot, the stench gets ranker and ranker. I am not proud of this. For example, today I volunteered some of my time to a nearby high school. I was working on organizing grades for report cards which are due at the end of the week. After working solidly for half the morning, I realized that GGD (Gassy Gurl Disorder) was upon me. Fortunately, I had been working in a soft bottom chair which is GGD's best friend since it absorbs all noise and conveniently covers up the stench with its overpowering scent of some odorous disinfectant. Anyway, I thought I was safe as the chair was my ally this morning. Unfortunately, I left to get lunch which required me to walk through the foyer which at the lunch hour is populated by 10th grade girls. Wanting to rush through the crowd to avoid a spontaneous GGD but not wanting to trip in my kitten heels, I half ran/walked through the foyer which gave me the appearance of a retarded rhinoceros thereby rendering me completely vulnerable to society's most judgmental group of adolescents. Surprisingly, this performance only earned me a smattering of finger pointings. Then just as I thought I had it made in the shade, as I did not slip or make a complete fool of myself, I turned to give the girls a lingering smile and GGD struck. My smile turned into a face contorting clench (the kind you make when you are trying to hold in gas) and I summoned three short but high pitched toots to signal my exit. Not only were they high pitched, they sounded like train blasts and I'm pretty sure the receptionist behind glass heard them too.

Luckily, I get to go back tomorrow and try to save face. Try being the key word.