This Just In: NEW JOB

Okay, so lots of things happened today. It was Halloween and I finally had the chance to pass out candy to kids. Claire and I took full advantage:

Awww yeah! Penguin and ladybug? No one doesn't like that. Anyways, so we spent the night "scaring" little kids and giving out candy. Ah, to be a kid again....

However, the big, bad story is...................

I got a new job.

That's right. Your beloved blog writer has achieved the highly coveted new job of Blog Writer at a giant, super sick company (I promise I am not cheating on you guys. I will be writing this blog for, like, evs, so no worries there). I start in two weeks and I couldn't be more terrified excited!

I had to break the news to my job this morning. It was horrible. For all intents and purposes, I loved my current job. Sure, there were issues - which is why I went a-hunting for new one - but it doesn't make anything easier.

I mean, I'm over-the-moon excited for my new job. Seriously, blog writing? For a JOB? Yes please! But I had to tell people - who I have conned into liking me - that I was leaving, and I got a new awesome job, and everything was coming up Pharon. But I unexpectedly got all sentimental over the coffee maker and Kitchen Cleaning schedule. Honestly? Weepy-eyed.

That's the trouble with changing jobs. All the good parts of an old job become crystal clear. Everyone loves you, and will miss you, and won't know what to do without you. And so for a little bit, I got scared to do the whole "Listen, it's not you, it's me. I need to grow and blah blah blah." I was all "No way! This place is comfortable, and I know the rules of the bathrooms and whether or not I can wear my ear buds at work! I can't leave all this behind!"

But then I got over it and remembered how awesome the job would be. Did I mention that I will be writing? For a living?! You couldn't color me a happier color.

Despite the fact that I was ecstatic to land my new job, I still couldn't shake the feeling that I have to say goodbye to an old job. And if we could bring the house lights down and get serious for a moment, I just want to say one thing. I'll dearly miss some of the best people in the world at my old job. There were people who made me laugh, who let me vent to them, and who commiserated with me when I couldn't handle it anymore. They make life fun and interesting. Sure, I'll probably replace you in a few weeks with new people (ha!), but for now, you are my guiding lights. I'm nervous that I won't meet anyone as cool as them at my new job, though.

Actually, I'm nervous for a bazillion things. Will anyone care about Kim and Kris getting divorced? Does anyone worry about whether or not my nieces are going to redecorate their room? Where is the closest candy dish? And, most importantly, how do these pants really look on me? These are all helpful relationships that I need to re-cultivate.

So, yes. I'm leaving my current job for a different job. I'm scared, nervous, excited, stoked, petrified, and a zillion other emotions. I want to do a good job. I want to be the best damn blog writer they've ever seen. I want to be friendly and fun and smart, but I'm kind of worried I'll be b!tchy and boring and dumb. I think all that comes with starting a new job (at least I hope I'm not alone here).

Okay, if you guys could do me a solid and just flood my email and comments with words about how awesome I am and how lucky the New Job is to have me, I think it would help loads. Even though I'm pumped beyond belief, I could use the superficial shows of encouragement. So yeah, go ahead and give me your BEST New Job advice. I mean, I probably won't need it because I'm super awesome and totally fun, but...you know, just in case...

Love you guys!!

BOOOOO!

I may not be the only person who has a birthday pretty much every year - I'm not, right? - but it certainly felt like it this weekend. All eyes were on yours truly and it felt awesome. I had a small little party on Friday night and everyone ate grilled cheese, drank beer, and danced our tushies off to Dance Central (which, by the way was a HUGE HIT!) I had a rough day of recovery on Saturday, but that was fine. Totally worth it.

Today, the Vikings gave me an awesome WIN for a present, and then I had dinner with my family. I love family birthday parties. Delicious food, lots of laughs, and a group of people I love loads, all paying attention to me. Perfection!

In all seriousness, I really want to say a ginormous heap of thanks to all my family and friends who were able to share my birthday with me. And all the people who wished me well on Facebook and in the mail (thanks, Madeline and Geo!) were so thoughtful and I am so proud to have such amazing people in my life. Thank you to everyone!

So, while I was in recovery mode on Saturday, there were so many Halloween and horror movies on TV. I watched several of them (in between the Jersey Shore season 1 marathon), but I found myself constantly dozing off and losing interest in the Fright Nights. A girl can only watch so many zombie apocalypse scenarios, and even the homicidal maniacs on killing sprees of teenage girl lost their luster. I just can NOT get into the spirit this year.

It also probably didn't help that I don't even particularly like scary movies. I have terrible nightmares after watching horror movies that have a bad guy in a mask. I don't know what it is about masks, but they scare the bejeezus out of me. All the Saw films, Friday the 13th, Scream - you know what I mean? I HATE masks. So I've tried to watch some of those "paranormal" scary movies, but those just made me jump at every creaking door.

Then I tried to settle for the zombie apocalypse movies. Blah, blah, blah, slow-moving undead bodies, shotguns, and the pretty girl with the half-torn shirt screaming bloody murder. Sure, that genre has a healthy sense of humor about itself, but it just got old after the forty or fiftieth close-up shot of yellow, glowing eyes of the reanimated.

So I gave the whole "spooky Halloween" thing a chance, but I just didn't have my heart in it. Tonight, though, when my nieces were describing their costumes for tomorrow night and trick-or-treating, I realized that I like CUTE Halloween, not SCARY. I like candy and funny costumes and the Monster Mash song. Not screaming witches, ghosts and blood. Man, I wish It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown would have been on yesterday.

But I hope you all have a fabulous, safe Halloween this year. And if you dress(ed) up and had a bomb costume, send in a pic to pharonsquare@gmail.com and I'll post it on the blog tomorrow! Who knows, maybe you'll win a treat! (Or maybe it's just a trick...)

Theatahhh Yeah

It may surprise you to know that I enjoy me some culture from time to time. Yes, every once in awhile I pry myself away from TMZ and Pinterest to do something smart-like. Tonight, I met up with Lana and Valerie to have a quick drink and a trip to the theatahhhh! (That's how the word "theater" sounds in my head.) The problem is, though, I'm not always the ideal date for the theatahhh, which was very obvious tonight.

Lana is an actress, and works at this awesome theater in downtown Minneapolis called The Guthrie. Valerie went to an Ivy league school, speaks French fluently, and has friends from allllll over the world. I speak broken Spanish and have debilitating stage fright. The last play I was involved in was in 5th grade when I was in the "munchkin chorus" in Wizard of Oz. And I ended up quitting.

So, I'm a n00b. The girls are really good about getting me to plays that I would otherwise never see. The kind where actors interact with the audience, or where they break out into a song about a naked chicken. Tonight, it was a play with ONE character in it. Just this one chick. And halfway through her 90-minute show, a "janitor" came in a cleared off the stage. I gazed around the audience like, "Am I the only one seeing this? Doesn't he know that there's a SHOW going on?!" Needless to say, it was PART OF THE PLAY.

First thing that went way over my head.

The play continued, and I was in awe of this actress. She didn't mess up ONE LINE. She was emotional, articulate, and she didn't even flinch when she looked right at me and I picked my nose. Just to see if it would throw her. It didn't.

Also, during the play, the world's tallest/antsiest man was sitting in front me. I kept having to shift from side to side to see past his head. Note to the man: You should really invest in some Rogaine as there is a not-so-hairy situation on the top of your head.

Then came the stress. Towards the end of the play, the girl starts to wrap her hair into a bun with one of those chopstick dealies. My palms started sweating immediately. What if that bun falls out? What if the chopstick doesn't stay in?! Phew! The chopstick stays in. Then she starts unbuttoning her skirt and shirt. I shoot a sideways glance at Lana as if to ask "What kind of play is this? I was not warned about nudity." So she's taking off her outfit, and I'm too nervous to breathe, and very worried that I'll start giggling. Oh man, this is getting real. Did she shave today? Has she worked out her abs lately? Am I old enough to be seeing this?!?! I suddenly feel like screaming out "You don't have to get naked to prove yourself, Bernadette! Don't do it!!! She doesn't. She simply takes off her costume to reveal some silk gown dealie. Crisis averted.

The play ends, everyone claps, Bernadette takes a well-deserved bow, and we head out. Here's where everything became clear. I walk out and confess to Lana and Valerie, "You guys? I did NOT get that play. Was she in the future? She talks about email and cell phones, but why was there one of those super old radios on the stage? What was with all the journal readings? And seriously, what was with the janitor?" I was flummoxed.

Lana and Valerie are trying to explain it to me, though they were in the dark a bit about the janitor too, and then they start throwing around phrases like "It's so relevant because of the Occupy Wall Street movement going on. Who is REALLY the boss, you know?" I muttered "People thought it was Angela, but I always believed it was Tony*." And then they chitchat about being sustaining members of NPR, and how they don't really watch that much TV anymore. I, on the other hand, love Top 40 radio, and am currently petitioning DirecTV to come to an agreement with FX so I won't have to miss even one episode of Sons of Anarchy.

You can see we have our differences. But what matters is that we had a great time together. And despite the fact that I still have no idea how the girl in the play (who is supposed to be 16) managed to get herself to New York City AND Planned Parenthood and what the significance of the pocket knife was, I very much enjoyed the chutzpah of the actress. She really was amazing and I found myself kind of lost in the world she created.

I suppose that's the point of theatahhh.

So, there you have it. I'm all cultured now! Huzzah! I'm going to get my cultured self to bed. Tomorrow is a big day. I've managed to not say anything about it until today, so I think I'm growing. Tomorrow is my birfday! Yay! I'm having a few friends over to just drink beer and play Dance Central (normal things that normal adults do), and I'm really excited. So, I better get some shut eye. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend! And if you feel so inclined, go ahead and send any and all gifts to my home. I also accept cash. Have a great weekend, everyone!!

* Duh! Ever heard of Who's the Boss?

Dear Crabby

Sorry if I get some sweat on tonight's post. I've been dancin' like a fiend to my new Dance Central 2 game!! That's right people, I'm back in the (video) game! Perks of the new version of the best dancing game ever include voice recognition, dance battle capabilities, and not one but TWO Gaga songs. I'm pretty much the best dancer ever on the Born This Way song already. So while I grab a water and hydrate before gettin' back in da' club (ugh, I need to stop talking like that) I'm going to take a minute and answer your cries for help! Let's hit it!

Dear Crabby,

Well, it was bound to happen. I just moved into my new house last Spring, and in the past week I've met roughly 100 mice who apparently live in my house (but don't even pay rent! Rude!) I read a bunch of tips on how to prevent mice (too late) and how to tell if you have a dead mouse behind your refrigerator (too soon). But what are YOUR best tips for making these rodents move out?

Thank you!
House of Mouse

What's crackin, HoM?
Listen, I've got a looooong, well-documented history of being terrified of mice. I hate them. So if you're here to hear suggestions of "humane traps" or "coexisting peacefully" you have come to the wrong place. The way I think about it, if I stuck my hand into a snake pit, I SHOULD get decimated by venom. I simply DON'T BELONG in there. And mice do not belong in my house, unless they are singing me a song while bedazzling me a ball gown. Therefore, I show no mercy. I start with snap traps. Quick and dirty. The problem is, though, the clean up. That's where my friends and/or boyfriend come in. I'll have nothing to do with the messy aftermath, so I only use these when someone else is around to clean the carnage. Therefore, my ideal solution is Extermination. That's right. Straight up hire someone to come and trim your house in poison and enjoy the peace and quiet. Sure, you may find one or two little guys who got left behind (or stuck in the wall), but whatever. There is no perfect solution. If you find one, though, I'll pay you a million dollars for it.

Dear Crabby,

I bought the CUTEST pair of jeans, but they are apparently made for the world's tallest woman. They're just jeans, and I just will NOT go in to have them professionally tailored or hemmed. Any hot tips?

Thanks a load,
Hemming and Hawing

Hey hey hey, Hemming and Hawing!
Yes, I actually DO have some tips for you! I'm roughly the height of a hobbit, so ALL my pants are too long. Spending the time and money to get all my pants hemmed would rob me of my very valuable Dance Central funds/rehearsal time. Therefore, I get creative. The easiest way is to fold the jeans into themselves until they are the right length. Then just take your everyday stapler and staple those suckers. Color in any flashy silver parts with a black Sharpie. Voila! Another (but a little more time-consuming) option is one I use all the time. I fold the jeans into themselves (just like with the staples), but then I quickly and roughly stitch 'em up using a good ol' needle and thread. Bonus points for using a thread color that matches your jeans. I have at least 3 pairs of jeans that have hints of pink or orange (or one on each leg) running 4 inches about the bottom of the pants. WHATEVER though. No one will EVER notice. Plus, if you do decide to take them to a tailor, it's easy peazy to remove the stitch! Or, you know, shop in the Petite section or something. When it comes to jeans, though, just wing it. It also helps if your standards (much like your height) are seriously lowered.

Dear Crabby,

Got any good Halloween costume ideas? I've got nothing to wear, and a pretty elaborate party to go to this weekend. Everything I think of is either too complicated or too cliche. I'd love an easy, cheap-to-assemble costume that won't look like I just threw it together. Help! :)

Thanks, Crabster!
-Costume Conundrum

Boo, Costume Conundrum!
I'm kind of out of ideas, to be honest with you. I'm not even dressing up this year (for, like, the FIRST TIME EVER)! I mean, maybe DON'T dress up as Steve Jobs, Michele Bachmann, Sarah Palin, Osama, or any other real-world character. Those are played out. Also, don't dress up as something uncomfortable. One year I went as a "bubble bath" and wrapped myself in a nude-colored towel and then yards and yards of bubble wrap. Bubble wrap is NOT breathable. It makes you hot and sweaty and people will pop all the bubbles anyways. /Fail. Hmm...oooh! Okay, I just got an idea! You can have it because I'm not dressing up anyways. (If I DO end up dressing up, though, I reserve the right to take this idea back.) All you do is wear all white, and, using safety pins or something, pin a bunch of pictures to yourself. You'll be this year's greatest invention, Pinterest!! Simple, cheap, timely, and just totally awesome. Pin some weird pics on yourself to start some excellent conversations. So, there you go. Only the greatest costume ever. You're welcome!

Okay, I'm pretty sure I've changed tons of lives with tonight's advice. Did I get anything wrong, though? Do you have better costume ideas/mouse removal procedures/seamstressing (not a word) advice? If so, go ahead and let me know in the comments. And, as per the usual, go ahead and email me your own questions at pharonsquare@gmail.com and I'll bust your balls. But for now, I'm back to busting my moves.

LFL (Or Legit Feminism Loss)

There are VERY few topics on which I claim to be an expert. Song lyrics, Kate Spade, and celebrity couples would be a few exceptions. However, Kim brought up a topic tonight that I am not only proud to NOT be an expert on, but one that I am ashamed to have googled. It's stupid. It's quite possibly the best example of idiocrity that can only be born in the good ol' USA.

The Lingerie Football League.

According to the website, it's named itself "true fantasy football". Let me paint you a very sad picture of what this thing is. Women. "Hot" women. Tiny "uniforms". No pesky pads. Full contact. Football. Thaaaaaaaaaaaat's right, people. It's all the worst parts of football smashed together with the most disappointing "perks" of being a woman.

Listen, I'm going to quote Wikipedia a lot here, because I just can't bring myself to do actual research on this because it truly makes me wish I were not a part of this gender. Apparently, though, the league was birthed in 2009. Probably by some skeevy team of men who need something to do with their excess of wealth when paying for strippers got a little too...not gamble-worthy. Women, who are probably very healthy and athletic and fine don their uniforms (consisting of "shoulder pads, elbow pads, knee pads, garters, bras, panties, and ice hockey-style helmets with clear plastic visors in lieu of face masks" - basically, the basic kind of protection any normal adult uses to go rollerblading) and simulate the act of football.

Here's fundamental flaw #1. Football is about bone-crushing hits, 50-yard passes, super-fast running backs, and larger-than-life athletes that are 300 pounds and also nimble as Jack. (Jack be nimble? Anyone?) It's about seeing big hits and not having to worry that a player might DIE because they don't have the proper protection. It's not about injuries or butt cheeks, it's about underdogs, the thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat.

The LFL is about boobs. And, I'm assuming, the ever-constant hope that it will turn into one big pillow fight, or that women tackling each other will turn into women tickling each other, which will end with - fingers crossed - lots of kissing and torn "uniforms". What else would you expect from a group of adult women attempting to play a FULL CONTACT SPORT wearing nothing more than shoulder pads and garters?

Fundamental flaw #2: Being a hot girl and playing a sport that could, potentially, cause permanent bodily harm is not brave it's, uh, dumb. Heidi Klum wouldn't do that. Gisele may love her fugly football star husband, but you couldn't pay her to get out on the field I'm sure. And I can pretty much guarantee that Anna Kournikova, a legit athlete in her day, would never join a sport that could mangle her face and/or hot body. Good looking people should't do that. (See: Mickey Rouke.) I'm not saying this out of jealously, either. As a woman, I can completely respect and support the best physical examples of my gender. I appreciate that. But I can 100% guarantee you that if I looked like the women in the LFL, I would make it my BUSINESS not to put my awesome face and body in harm's way. I'd take up modeling, or knitting, or graphic design or something not so tackle-y. Do these women not get that?

Kim told me tonight that her guy friend's girlfriend (you following me?) is apparently a quarterback in the LFL and recently broke her arm. Her season is over. Was it worth it? Your season is 6 games long and you're out for all of them. If only someone would have invented some sort of padding to protect you from getting hit so hard...Oh. Wait. THEY DID. (Yes, I know that there are technically no pads to protect the arm bones from breaking in men's football, but it doesn't fit my argument and/or joke, so I'm dismissing it).

Fundamental flaw #3: The team names for this league look like they were taken out of the Cliched Cutesy Names Handbooks. "Fantasy"? "Passion"? "Charm"? "Sin"? "Temptation"? Come on, ladies! At least TRY and flex some of your CREATIVITY muscles for once! The names are dumb and not at all threatening, like regular team names. What about "Black Widows"? Or "Ball and Chains"? Or "The Ultimatums"? THOSE are real team names. A while back, I even suggested - for the Minnesota LFL - "The Purple Nurples". Now THAT'S a good team name. But "Crush"? "Breeze"? THOSE ARE DUMB AND HORRIBLE.

Fundamental flaw #4: I don't know WHO these women are, because ain't nothing comfortable about lingerie. Lingerie is supposed to be worn in slow motion, creeping around door frames and while slinking onto couches like in the Victoria's Secret ads. I can barely get out of a chair without having to adjust my underwear. Lingerie is, almost by definition, designed to be removed very quickly. You aren't supposed to run around for hours at a time while wearing it. It's logistically flawed, people.

The point I'm trying to make is that having a bunch of hot girls pummel the crizzap out of each is only enjoyable for pervy men. ("League founder Mortaza has admitted that the league is marketed toward 'mostly beer-drinking college students aged 21 and up'.") And all it does it showcase the fact that there are actual hot women who can't seem to appreciate their own physical superiority. Someone said "Hey! You're hot, and understand football! Throw on these sequined boy shorts and get the ^&*# beat of out of you!" and they were all "YAY! SPORTS!"

Here's the real beef I have with all this. In high school, I had a few girl friends who had to fight tooth-and-nail to start a women's hockey league. They dealt with the ridicule, the laughter, the lack of financial backing of trying to play a "man's" sport. They worked their BUTTS off to be taken seriously at something they loved. What they DIDN'T do was strut out on the ice in bikinis and full faces of makeup. They played the same sport, with the same equipment as the men. Now they compete in the Olympics. One LFL player is quoted as saying "Maybe one day, girls won't have to wear lingerie to get people interested [in women's football]." Well, lady, we might not ever know because you've COMPLETELY tarnished my view of female football players. Well done.

I've gotten myself all worked up now. I am so annoyed by this stupid excuse for an organization - that gets money! - and I truly can't decide whether to feel bad for these women or full-on tackle one of them if I ever see them. Since I don't make my living on my body and/or face, I'm afraid I'll probably go with the latter. Look out, ladies!

Putting the NICE in NIECE

I have silly string in my hair. Glitter all over my jeans. A slight ringing in my ears from a couple hours of screaming. And my blood is roughly 60% sugar. What have I been up to, you ask? Well, I've either been at a rave in the 90's or a birthday party for one of the cutest kids ever. Here's a hint:

If you guessed "rave in the 90's" you'd be wrong. (Although, that is pretty close to the outfit I'd wear to a rave.) It was my niece Eve's 3rd birthday today and if there is ANYone who knows how to celebrate, it's a three year-old. She squealed with delight at every spoonful of frosting, every glittery card, and every trinket, toy, and treat. After opening each thing, unprompted, she'd search the room and make eye contact with the giver, and exude the most earnest "THANK YOU!" I've ever heard. Like, she meant it.

I always get a tad uncomfortable opening gifts. Don't get me wrong, I luuuuuurve getting presents. But I can't quite figure out the fine line between grateful and gushing. I could open a clump of hair and I'd spent 45 minutes raving about the possibilities of the new hair. "Ohmygod, this clump of hair will look A-MAH-ZING with my winter hat!" I'm probably the easiest person to give a gift to, because I will LOVE anything anyone gives me. I'm not picky. But sometimes that results in going a little overboard in the "thank you" department. Sometimes I worry that it almost comes of as patronizing. But I'd so much rather err on the side of overdoing it than to risk not thoroughly thanking someone enough.

But watching Eve just find the gift giver, hug them and squeal an adorably "Thank you, Gwampa!" was refreshing. There was one exception, though. Her awesome aunt (me) gave her the world's cutest little faux-fur leopard print vest and pink leggings. She literally THREW THE VEST across the room. But, luckily that awesome aunt (again, ME) knows that kids don't especially love getting clothes instead of toys yet, so I also plopped some candy in the bag with the clothes. After chucking the vest across the room, she tore into the chocolate and beamed "Thank you, Phawin!!!" and that was all I needed. Then later, after the excitement had kind of simmered down, she did try on her vest and LOVED it.

I guess I could learn a lot from my niece. At the tender age of three, she knows more about receiving gifts and giving thanks properly than I do at the age of ajdhgauphtiuathjklwtk. I'll tell you this, though, I'd never chuck a present across the room. Kids...

Anyhoozle, a very happy birthday to my beautiful niece! I already look up to you!

The Early Bird...Is a Sucker

Well, I went to sleep at 10 p.m. on Saturday night. That's where my weekend both peaked and weaked. (That's a word, right?) I spent too much time with my sisters at the mall on Saturday, and I was beat. Seriously, who spends 5 hours at the Mall of America? TOURISTS, that's who. Oh, and also my sisters and me. We strolled around all day, and all day I had to actively fight my instincts to roundhouse-kick idiot mall-walkers in the head.

Then we went back to my parents house, and just hung out for 5 more hours, eating deep dish pizza and trying to keep my nieces and nephew from screaming bloody murder for more than 5 minutes at a time. So much for patience. Although, it was probably one of the funnest days ever. I loved it.

Now, there is a major problem with going to bed early on a Saturday night. Sunday mornings are SO BORING. I woke up at basically dawn, made breakfast, had coffee, and watched VH1 for an hour and still had 2 1/2 hours to kill before I could even start running errands because none of the stores were open yet.

The point is: There is no reason to wake up early on the weekends.

It was very boring this morning. I watched a movie that starred Matthew McConaughey and Christian Bale and fire-breathing dragons. Really? This is the reward I get for waking up before noon? And sure coffee is delicious and all, until it gets me all hopped up to...what? Sit around? That's no fun.

Here's the lesson, I guess. Don't wake up early on Sunday mornings. Nothing happens. Do yourself a favor and stay up until 3 a.m. on Saturday night if you can. Waking up early is for jerks over achievers and shmucks. Well, lesson learned. Next weekend, don't call me until noon when I'm just waking up.

The cruelty of it all is that now I feel like I've been up for a bazillion hours and I'm pooped. It's a vicious cycle. Maybe it'll be easier to wake up for work, though! Yay! That's always nice. OH! And world's biggest HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my lovely friend Lana!! We have a super fun happy hour planned later this week, so let's just hope I can stay awake for it!

Let's go out there and pwn this week, shall we? We shall!