We didn’t think she would do it… But she did.

As we were brewing beer and watching the football game, we heard yelling from outside our condo. Our first reaction was to quiet down and try to understand if the yelling was due to a football game or for help. We realized it was time to react because the noises suggested that something was very wrong.

The yelling was coming from outside, so I went outside to our condo’s balcony. I quickly realized that the yelling was coming from a visiting female on our neighbor’s balcony. She was yelling about Jesus and looked panicked. She asked me if I could come over and hug her. I told her I couldn’t make it over… since there was 9ft of space and a 25ft. drop between our balcony’s. Other neighbors were outside trying to assess the situation.

Fitz was right behind me and saw that this chick was out of her mind. Our neighbor always has girls visiting his apartment… and we rarely see the same chick twice. We’ve always been skeptical of his activities, but this is the first time we saw a girl holding the door shut and yelling for Jesus. I tried to talk to her and understand why she was upset. And before the onlookers knew it, she made a bizarre, exorcist-like movement and hauled herself over the railing. Fitz ran out of our condo to alert our womanizing neighbor that the female on his porch was threatening to jump two stories down.  Also, the neighbor above the womanizer’s apartment came running down to alert him that the girl was over the railing. As the two guys confronted our next-door neighbor about the situation that he seemed oblivious of, I continued to monitor the girl. Yep that’s right. Half a dozen people came outside to help this girl, except for the guy who’s apartment she was in… and his other guest.  She was hanging from the railing and quickly loosing her grip. I started yelling “Help, someone help” and other ramblings that came out too fast before I could think. She lost her grip and fell.  During her fall she hit the below neighbor’s balcony and knocked his plants off the ledge. Her fall resembled someone hitting their head on the diving board, except remove the pool of water and replace it with leaf-covered ground. Her body was laid out on the ground like a crime scene victim. I ran to find Fitz and alert him that she was down.0

Fitz came inside our condo and I grabbed the phone to call 911. As I was on the phone, Fitz told me to stay inside and he locked the doors. I stayed by the window to keep an eye on the situation. Then, she got up. Yep, she fell 25ft and started making moves. It was nutty. She had lost a shoe and her pants had slid down exposing her buttocks. She picked up her wig and in a very disoriented fashion made her way to the fence. She miraculously climbed the fence and made it to the sidewalk where she stumbled around. Her pants were still down and she placed her wig on her head while wandering around. I guess putting on the blond wig was more important than covering up the lady-parts. But who am I to judge? It didn’t seem that she realized what happened and the commotion caused by her leap of fate. By this time, the host of the apartment she was previously visiting, proceeded to throw the rest of her belongings over the balcony. Classy. He and a male friend (apparently another neighbor that I had never seen before) abruptly left the scene. They claimed the girl was nuts and  knew nothing about her erratic behavior. As I gave the details to the emergency operator, the fire department arrived. By this time, the girl had climbed over the fence again and was back on the property. It appeared that the firemen had herded her back to her original landing spot. As they questioned her, I gave details to the emergency operator. The ambulance and the cops arrived and shut down the street temporarily. The fire department left and seemed relieved to hand this one over to the paramedics.

I got off the phone and Fitz and I just looked at each other baffled. Like WTF, did that just happen? We were surprised and relieved that the girl was ok. As we debriefed about the situation, one question remained on our minds … what the heck was going on at our neighbor’s place at 5pm on a Sunday that caused this girl to leave from the balcony and not the front door? It was really an upsetting experience.

The cops didn’t stay too long and didn’t seem interested to meet the resident of the condo who just had a girl fall from the balcony. All that remained was the ambulance. We awaited its departure as we resumed our brewing process. But the ambulance didn’t leave… instead, the doors opened and the girl came traipsing out the back. This time she was dressed, wig and all, and used a bed sheet to cover her exposed arms. She and a paramedic were back on the scene with a flash light searching for something… After 30mins of searching for her belongings, the ambulance drove away and left her on the sidewalk with her new bed sheet. Am I the only one who thinks that this is getting even nuttier? Why didn’t they haul her away?

I was worried about her. I didn’t care if she was on drugs or whatever the situation was… she just fell from two stories and wasn’t dressed to be outside on a cold evening. I yelled down and asked her if she was ok. She informed me that she was looking for her phone and couldn’t find it. I asked her if she needed a sweatshirt or a coat, because I was worried about her condition. She wasn’t interested… all she wanted was her phone. She asked me if it was on our neighbor’s balcony. Sure enough,  it was sitting perfectly on the edge. She wanted me to go get it or to get her a ladder so she could retrieve it. I’m not sure why she thought there was a 20 foot ladder lying around or that I could fly over to the balcony… but I did tell her that we would try to contact our neighbor and the two of them could handle it. Though I was concerned that maybe our neighbor was the original threat to her…  I kept asking if she was OK and if I could help her. Meanwhile, the womanizing neighbor was still hiding from the cops and not home. But the rest of the joining-walled neighbors were still outside trying to figure out what the heck was going on. The jumper asked me if I could drive her somewhere. I told her we were working on getting her phone by contacting our neighbor, and that I had been drinking all day (I mean we were brewing) and unable to drive. She was worried that we were calling the cops and not her previous party-host. I reassured her the cops weren’t going to be back due to us. She continued to wander around outside with the bed sheet and I decided to go back inside.

Within a few minutes there was a knock on our door… it was our womanizing neighbor. Yay, he returned! Fitz informed him that his guest was outside, looking for her phone, and that her phone was on his balcony. We left it at that, went back to brewing, cracked open another beer to calm our nerves and to watch the rest of the football game. The last thing I saw was our neighbor driving off in his car.

I don’t understand the entire situation and I’m sure I never will. However,  I know that I will never forget the sight of a person deciding to fall from a balcony. That was some scary shit.


I want to Fart on Office Potlucks

A slew of emails went out this week notifying staff of the annual Thanksgiving potluck lunch. We are all familiar with this tradition… Company pays for the meat and colleagues bring in all the fixings. A sign up sheet gets posted in the main break room and everyone notices who is cheap, who thinks they can cook and wants bragging rights, who slacks by opting for the donation-option, and all the other amusings between.

It’s the holiday tradition in most offices and I just want to fart on it, around it, and pretty much all over it. I absolutely disgust potlucks and people’s behavior resulting from potlucks.

The following scenarios will happen:

1. Person with food allergies/sensitivities– Awkwardly singled out for either bringing their own food or nitpicking everyone else’s dish to make a federal case out of their dilemma.

2. “Chef” competitions– Who’s grandma has the best recipe for sweet potato casserole? 7b5c33971a26779c2df047ee16a8fc86What’s the ‘secret’ ingredient in her bean casserole? Is it farts? Because it looks like shit. But we all know that there will be some sort of rivalry over the food categories. The pies, the potatoes, the stuffing, the cranberry sauce… Someone’s side will go faster than someone else’s in the same category. There will be a winner. And there will be a loser. And the drama will continue throughout the rest of the year. Yay!

3. The overachiever vs. the underachiever– Everyone was given the option to bring a side, utensils/cups, or donate financially. Someone will show up with a $1 bottle of soda or a box of pop-tarts. They may even go back for thirds to stretch their dollar for that extra lap around the table. Technically, they found the loophole to the $10 donation rule…. And then there’s the person who decided to bring in the over-the-top lobster souffle. They brag about the fancy cream and cheeses they handcrafted over the weekend to include in their dish. They spent hours and a significant amount of money to show off their side. And…they will be pissed about the guy who brought the bag of marshmallows and 4 canisters of Tupperware for leftovers….

4. Food Preservation is Nonexistent– There will be a huge spread of food. Then after the first 10 people have laid their eyes and hands on the buffet , the spread will begin to look like a pack of rats attacked it. The food will become unappetizing and picked over. Someone ate all the edges of the casserole or ate the middle of the pie. The only pieces left are oddly shaped crumbs. How did it get to this point? Or the food has sat at room temperature that now it’s lukewarm jello slop and cold mashed potatoes. Yum! Totally worth the calories… I’m sure of it.

5. Surprise!– Someone will get socially manhandled into putting something on their plate that they didn’t want because the cook forced them. Or, you thought the corn looked kosher but after that one bite you are left scrambling for a napkin to spit into. Your left thinking “This tastes like shit!” While forced to hold a big smile on your face because the chef is fishing for compliments. Yay!

And more reasons on why I will not participate:

6. The Infectious– Have you taken a good look at your co-workerH Pot Lucks? We all know of someone in our office that tends to skip on washing their hands after using the restroom. Or maybe you share a wall with the “cat-lady”. She has 4 cats, her cube is decorated with cat-attire, and when she can slip a kitty-pic, she will. But after work she goes home… to her cat-infested house. And her kitchen looks like? You can only imagine.  Do you really want to eat something from your zombie-looking co-worker who suffered a bout of mono over the past 3 months? Just consider it before you take that first bite.

7. Gone Postal– Again, have you taken a good look at your co-workers? Have you pegged the person that is “Most-Likely to Go Postal”? I have. And I’ve also planned my escape if/when they do. A potluck could be their most ideal time to go nutty. Maybe a little sprinkle in the mashed potatoes? NO THANK YOU!

8. The “I Wife-d Her Guy”– He’s a tool and is completely incapable of cooking. Maybe the grill, but that’s  questionable. So he opts out of creating anything for the potluck and signs his wife up to do the chore. His topic of conversation is all about how he got his wife to bake cupcakes. It’s borderline demeaning and it slowly approaches inappropriate sexist remarks when his immature buddies join him. These guys get forced to eat his wife’s cupcakes while swapping stories about their own wife’s cooking excursions. I truly wish that this guy’s wife walks in to the office and begins flipping tables. That would be a memorable potluck.

9. Brainwashing and Forced Socialization– The real reason for office wide potlucks is because someone in management decided it was a good idea and it may boost morale. They lied and they were wrong.

10. Other people feel the same. Google it. This entire post has been scattered with links to other people’s disdain for potlucks. I say we walk in to the next potluck, lay a fart, blame it on the asshole who brought in cabbage and walk out.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Sometimes I think that I’m just not meant to be in a long-term relationship. I would say there is an equal part of me that  fantasizes about this happy, obnoxious relationship. The other part of me that fantasizes about being a  hybrid professional female bad-ass/world explorer that seeks an internal nirvana while putting relationships in their time/place within my journeys.

I like protecting myself from being under someone’s control. When I start feeling like my control is threatened, I push back. I try to question why I feel the way that I feel and consider if this is a temporary issue or apart of a bigger problem.

Over the weekend I realized that Fitz and I have a bigger problem. From what I can access, it’s not something that will go away. We handle things fundamentally differently and the way he goes about his friendships stresses me out. I tried to stay patient and hide  my feelings. But all that did was cause me to not eat, excessively drink, not sleep, and become depressed. Something that is so simple for him wrecks havoc on my well-being. It’s not intentional on his part and it’s not fair for either of us. I don’t want to deny him his simple pleasures. But I can’t emotionally and physically handle it.  I have become angry and resentful. Which makes me feel awful because I don’t want to be like that…

I want to run away from this relationship, this small-minded city, and my stupid job. Get things back into control. Live my life and stop holding off  my goals until he accomplishes his. I wrote down my 3 issues on a sheet of paper and carry them with me as a reminder to reconsider, to reassess, to over-analyze… and at the bottom I posed the question, Where do we go from here? What’s next?

I just don’t know and I don’t think I should be the only one solving the question.


It drives me nuts when coworkers think that computers perform “magic”. At a touch of a button it happens… Auto-magically! It’s one thing to overhear their moronic conversations, it’s another to conversate with them about auto-magical functions.

I’ve discovered that it’s an art to try to speak to them in a language that they can relate to, and not feel alienated.

I had to talk to Cletus for a sanity check… here’s how that went:

Me: So they say “behind-the-scenes” like it’s a fucking magic show. Why can’t they say ‘backend’ when they refer to a (SQL) database?

Cletus: Well, maybe “behind the scenes” is a concept they understand. I don’t know… ‘backend’ to what? A horse’s ass?

Me: Yes, backend. A horse’s backend. We take your data and shove it up a horse’s ass. When it poops, we make reports!

Cletus: Yes, it literally shits out reports.

Me: Lit-er-ally.

Cletus: We just cram it all up there.

Me:  I’m imagining a horse in a server room just shitting everywhere…

Cletus: …With its tail wagging around.

Me: It’s automagical.