Annexed: Odds and Ends

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First of all, I have to start by thanking everyone for all the kind words regarding not only the Annexed series, but the blog in general. I started this on a whim because I’ve always love to write and share funny stories about my life, so this seemed like the way to do it. The response has been amazing and I thank you all for the compliments and comments. Please forward on the links to any friends/family who might enjoy as well!

Now, on with the show!

So this week was kind of dull around The Mall. We were really busy at work so there wasn’t any time to walk around and search for stuff. But there are a few unrelated things that happened during the week which I will share.

First of all, the Brit has a new name. From  here on out she will be known as The Strangler. Don’t ask. If I divulge any more information I would be going against my lawyers advice. Let’s just say she’s a hard ass and leave it at that.

The Interview
This week I decided to do some hard-core journalism and I set out to get an interview with Scooter. It wasn’t hard to find him. All you have to do is step outside the office and listen for the whirring sound of his scooter.

[Side story – last week The Strangler and I were doing laps around the mall and happened upon Scooter. He came whizzing up and gave us his usual greeting, “Hiiiii ladies….” We said “hi” back and then continued on our way. He followed us. We walked faster. He sped up. Finally we made a quick U-turn, which was through some benches and stuff that he couldn’t get by on his scooter. He sped up and went down to a point where he could also turn around and then headed back. We were practically running to the office and kept hearing this increasingly loud and fast “whiiirrrrrr” behind us as he tried to catch up! It was scary!]

So on Monday of this week, I headed out to the cafeteria to get a soda and as I exited, there was Scooter. I usually try to avoid eye contact in the hopes that he’ll go away but this time I looked right at him. Here’s how the interview went:

  • Me: “Hello!”
  • Scooter, genuinely surprised: “Hiiiii”
  • Me: “How are you?” 
  • Scooter: “Good, how are you?”
  • Me: “Good. Did you have a nice weekend?”
  • Scooter: “Yes, didn’t do much but watch TV and play with my dog.”

By this point I was back to the office so I said good-bye and headed in.

Let’s see Katie Couric or Oprah get an interview like that! In your face Brian Williams!

The First Stall
So, the women’s bathroom in the Annex is not the nicest bathroom I’ve ever had the pleasure to use. The paper towel dispenser routinely breaks, the ceiling leaks and it smells like “wizzy hobos” (to quote The Strangler). The bathroom has 4 stalls: 3 regular ones and a giant handicapped one. We’ve determined that the first stall has some evil force over it that causes gross and bad things to happen. I’ll try not to get too detailed in case any of you are reading this while eating but here are some of the things that have occurred in the first stall:

  1. The fainting incident (now referred to around the office as “pulling a Sarah”)
  2. The discovery of a used piece of toilet paper left sitting on the seat.
  3. Someone having some major intestinal issues causing them to make all kinds of uh, “noises”
  4. A take-out box with someone’s lunch in it was found on the floor
  5. And there was some residue left on the seat after someone visited a man about a big dog, if you know what I mean

So, I now refuse to use the first stall. Call me superstitious but I’d rather not take that gamble. I fell victim to its evilness once already this  year. And that was enough, my friend, that was enough.

Holiday cheer
Remember how last week I talked about there being absolutely NO holiday decorations in the mall whatsoever? Well this week there was an inkling of Christmas that appeared. The company had their holiday luncheon on Wednesday so the decorations were dusted off. They consisted of red tablecloths, poinsettia plants, a big wreath and a holiday bough on the wall. It wasn’t a lot but it was enough to lift our spirits just a bit. I just hope they don’t hang up mistletoe though. Don’t want to give Scooter any opportunities…

Well, that’s about all I have for this week. Today I worked from the West office because I needed a dose  of vitamin D. Here are some pics so that you can appreciate the difference.

The atrium

The entrance

See what I mean? Wouldn’t you rather work here ^ than at The Mall?

Upper level

Thanks you for tuning in and until next time, you’ve been Annexed!

On next week’s episode: I’m going to conduct an experiment. Now that I’ve done the journalism thing, it’s time to put on my science hat! Stay tuned – it’s bound to be dangerous and action packed. You won’t want to miss it!

Samson Stories: The Escape Artist

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I’ve decided that on days when I don’t really have anything exciting to report, I will recycle and post a Samson Story from years past. He was a rascal and gave us LOTS of material. I didn’t have a blog then (or even Facebook – gasp!) so therefore no real way to share these little gems. I actually wrote them all down in a journal, thinking I might publish a book someday (thanks John Grogan for the idea!). 

1 year old

We got Samson when he was 4 months old and were the 5th house he lived in (not counting the breeder). He was a handful and more work than most folks were ready for. So naturally by the time he got to us, he had absolutely no trust for humans whatsoever and wouldn’t even look us in the eye until we’d had him for close to a year.

Because of that, little Samson was all about getting away. I think he did it as a protective mechanism, kind of like people who break up with their boy/girlfriend because they don’t want to be the one getting dumped. We could never let him out without a leash and trust that he would stay by us. Those people you see who walk their dogs without any type of restraint? Ha! That’s a pipe dream for us!

We live on a corner lot and have a pretty good-sized backyard with 3 gates: 2 on one side and 1 on the other. Of the 2 on the north side, one is a double gate because the previous owner had a boat or motor home or something. Well, one day I was in the kitchen and Samson was outside. I looked out the window and saw him trying to squeeze himself through the opening between the 2 gates! I sort of laughed because at that time he was about 60 lbs and I figured there was no way he could get through there,but it was fun to watch him try.

Then all of a sudden he got his head through the opening and was working on getting his shoulders through. I knew if he did that, he’d be gone. I yelled out, “Samson, no!” which produced the following effect: nothing. His way of dealing with me back then was to ignore me. I opened the door and ran outside. As I was running to the gate (which of course was at the farthest point of the yard from the door), he got his shoulders through and was shimmy-ing the rest of the way out. I got there just in time, stuck my arm through the opening and grabbed his collar .

Let’s pause a moment while I paint a picture for you. Here is the scene:

Samson is on one side of the fence, I am squatted down on the other with my arm stuck through the gate opening. The only thing connecting us and therefore keeping him from running away was the fact that I had a death grip on his collar, which he was now trying to wriggle out of. Oh and did I mention that the gate was locked and I didn’t have my keys on me? Yeah….so now, how to get this big dog back in the yard?

Obviously I couldn’t open the gate. He was too heavy to lift over. I couldn’t walk around because I would have to let go of him to do that. So naturally I thought, well, I’ll bring him in the same way he got out: through the opening in the middle. Well wouldn’t you know it, he was suddenly too big to get his head through. I pulled and twisted and turned and no matter how I tried it, he was not coming back through.

Crap.

I had no phone on me and there were no neighbors outside. I was just about to start shouting for help when CJ popped his head out the back door.  He saw right away the predicament I was in and came running down. He grabbed Samson, bringing him back inside. Within an hour we had put chains on the gate securing the opening and taking away any opportunity for him to try that again (and believe me, he tried again).

He has gotten out on a couple other occasions when gates were accidentally left open (3 times to be exact and all when  he was older and calmer). All 3 times we were able to get him back easily. The first time, he went to the park and was on his way back home when I found him. The second time  he went up the circle and was sniffing about. The third time, he went up the circle and through someone’s yard which led to the park. A couple of college kids found him and brought him to their house and then called us. They put a make shift leash on him and kept him in the garage where they were watching a Husker game. When I saw him, he was laying next to one of the guys begging for chips. Big goofball.

So there you have it. A few “tails” of how Samson has tried his darndest to escape our horrible home. Can’t say I blame him. Would you want to live in a house where you got yummy food and treats all the time, a special bone birthday cake, frequent trips to the park, day camp, your own bed and lots of snuggles?  I know, he’s so abused.

Samson Stories: Doggie Day Camp

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Every other Tuesday, we take Samson to Doggie Day Camp at PetSmart. Why? Because he’s a Lab. If that means nothing to you, let me clue you in.

Labs have more energy than the sun. Especially Lab puppies. We got Samson when he was 4 months old. He was your classic cute, soft, cuddly little yellow puppy like you see in all the commercials.  But underneath was a firecracker! This dog had more energy than we knew what to do with. I’d take him for hour-long walks every day and it wasn’t enough. CJ would wrestle and chase him and it wasn’t enough. As a result, he had to get that energy out one way or another so he’d get in trouble. We were at our wit’s end. You know Marley? Yeah, it’s like that book/movie was about Samson.

Then someone suggested we take him to Doggie Day Camp. This would allow him all day play time, so he wouldn’t be stuck in his kennel, and he’d be tired by the time we got him home so we could actually relax.  We started with one day a week. That first night when we picked him up it was like a miracle. He was so tired, he slept the whole way home and all night once at home. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves! He was even still tired the next day! Alleluia and praise  Jesus! Can I get an Amen!

So then we increased it to twice a week, every week. I tell you it made a world of difference. He was more cooperative at home and would actually obey! DDC isn’t very expensive either and for us, it was worth the $19 a day. Another added bonus – it got him socialized to other dogs so that he wasn’t Mr. Spazzy Pants when he encountered one in the neighborhood. All in all, DDC was a life saver for us.

As he got older, he didn’t need to go as much. Plus, we became a one income family and had to make some cutbacks. So we reduced him down to one day a week, every week. Now that he’s almost 5 (his birthday is Christmas Eve…all together now…awwwwww), he only needs to go once a week, every other week. And let me tell you, he knows exactly what day is THE day.

And today was the day. He came bounding out of his kennel and was raring to go. All during our morning ritual, he was looking at me like, “Are you ready yet? It’s Day Camp day! Yippee! Are you ready yet?” Then finally I said the magic words, “Ready to go for a ride in the car?”

I swear to you, he jumped from the top step to the landing in one bound. No joke. He was not about to waste time with steps! Course, he had to wait for the slow human to come down and he did a little dance at the bottom of the stairs while waiting for me. His eyes said, “Hurry up you slow poke! This is why I should be Alpha! You’re way too slow to be the Alpha!”

We got in the car and were off!

Most of the drive was pretty tame. Me listening to the radio and singing at the top of my lungs to sappy Christmas songs while he sat in the back and looked out the window. But, don’t be fooled. Samson knows the route. I take Harrison to 144th and then head over to Oakview Mall. As soon as we approached L St. he started whining and I could hear the tail thumping. Then I got across L St. and got in to the right hand turn lane for Oakview Dr. and all hell broke loose.

He started whining and panting and trying to jump in the front seat! Then he’d jump in the back, then in the front. If he were little it wouldn’t be a big deal but he’s 95 lbs of muscle so it’s kind of distracting.

This is what I saw when trying to look over my shoulder to merge:

And the whining was LOUD! And it’s right in my ear. I thought for sure I had a busted eardrum at one point.

But we finally got to PetSmart and it was time to get out.

(there was no chance of getting a still picture because he would not stop moving. He wanted out of that car and in to the store, like, NOW!)

We got inside at the same time as another guy who had 2 dogs with him: a yellow lab and a Great Dane. And boy was this Dane great. He was frickin’ huge! Probably out weighed me and Samson combined. His name was Zeus which seemed fitting. But Samson is an equal opportunity dog and he did not care that Zeus could eat him for breakfast and still have room for his other lab friend. Samson went ahead and barked and barked and barked at him. Zeus actually looked at him as if to say, “Wow, I admire your cojones brother. You’re a badass.”

They took Samson away to his happy place of playing and licking and humping and peeing freely. Plus he gets to see his girlfriend Willow, who is a Golden Retriever. They heart each other.

Samson has a nickname at DDC. They call him the Governor because when they load up the room, he has to greet and “shake hands” with every single dog that comes through the door. What can I say, he has political aspirations.

Tonight we’ll pick up the big guy around 8pm and he’ll be sleepy and content, dreaming the whole way home about his sweetheart, her flowing golden tail and how he’s totally gonna kick Zues’ ass at the polls.

Fantasy vs. Nightmare

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I am fiercely competitive. I was always this way but never realized how bad it was until I started dating CJ. He likes to do all kinds of sports/activities and he introduced me to them as well.  Many of our dates were spent playing volleyball, frisbee, darts, mini golf, video games, racquetball, and tennis. Turns out, I don’t like to lose. And wouldn’t you know it, CJ always won. I’m not exaggerating either. He ALWAYS won! He would even play me left-handed sometimes and still win!

This did not go over well. We finally agreed to stop keeping score because it was causing too much strife.

I figured, ok, he’s superior with the physical stuff but surely I could beat him when it comes to intellect (just call me Vizzini). Ah, no. Turns out he’s better at that too (or at least equal). Inconceivable! He won many, but not all, of our trivia games or other such mental jousts. Dammit!

At least I can say I’m the one with the looks. Oh wait, he went to modeling school. Dammit!

Ok, well, um, I’m younger. Ha, there, I win!

See, what I mean? Competitive. This, among other reasons, is why I am the real life equivalent to Monica from “Friends” (the part of this episode where Monica and Mike are playing table tennis is pretty true to life with how I am).

Anywho, it’s no secret that I enjoy watching and following the NFL. I’m a big Steelers fan and enjoy Sunday football days and Monday football nights. This year I decided to participate in a Fantasy Football league. I had done one a few years ago and did poorly because I was relatively new to the whole thing and didn’t know the players. Now I do. And I am doing awesome! My fantasy team has been in first place pretty much the entire time! (neener-neener-neener!)

Until this week.

Unfortunately, I made the mistake of benching Adrian Peterson. I know, I know. Why bench the #1 fantasy draft pick? Well, hHe’s been doing poorly the last couple weeks and he didn’t practice all week due to an injury. Figured IF he played it would be limited so I benched him. And wouldn’t you know it, he played and played awesome. Like, really awesome. 

Inconceivable!

I actually had nightmares over this. Literally. I tossed and turned all night dreaming of how I lost the FFL because of that one mistake. And then the world ended.

Ok, not really but that’s how much this bothered me! I shouldn’t have doubted my number 1 guy! And now I’ve fallen to (gasp!) second place.

I sure hope Isabella doesn’t get my competitive streak, or at least not as much of it. Sometimes it’s beneficial because it pushes me to try harder and play better. But more often than not, it gets me in trouble or at least very frustrated. I really have to work on it.

Now, who wants to race me up and down the halls of The Mall? I bet I would totally win! Ready, set, go!

TTM has a new look!

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Team Trader Mom got a make-over! Did ya notice? If you didn’t then it’s either:

  1. your first visit to this blog or,
  2. you’re a man and have no observational skills or,
  3. you’re color blind and design-challenged or,
  4. you just don’t care.

Regardless, I really like the new look. It’s more “me”. The other look was a little too frilly, swirly, girly and “touchy-feely” for my taste. I’m not a girly girl. Don’t get me wrong, I like pretty things, just not TOO pretty if you know what I mean. There are no doilies or pink or flowery stuff in my house. In fact, only this year did I buy my first pink item of clothing. I also have never cried at a movie, book, TV show or commercial. In fact, my mom calls me “hard-hearted Hannah from the south of Savannah”. 

Anyway, the new look is colorful but in a more modern way and it’s more streamlined and clean. AND, the font is Arial, instead of that ghastly Times New Roman. I H.A.T.E. any type of serif font. Don’t even get me started…

Hope you like the new look! 🙂