sail away...

The OC has been one of my guilty pleasures as of late. At work, it seems only the young-uns partake in this weekly dose of primetime trash drama. I guess we're not old enough to know better...or maybe we're just too young to give a damn. One of our co-workers, overhearing Jeanette and I talk about the show over lunch one day, asked if it was any good. "Any good?" we responded in unison, "It's soooo bad, it's good!"

Anyway, as we bade adieu to another season of teenaged angst and melodrama, I had to giggle at the sight of Ryan leaving in the same clothes he originally arrived to the Cohen mansion in - the wifebeater, draped with the cliched leather jacket and hoodie. Oh, and his favorite accessories, those brooding, Russel-Crowe like, puppy dog eyes. *groan* An al-too obvious wardrobe choice...

Another slap-myself-silly-and-ask-myself-why-I'm-so-engrossed-in-this-stupid-show moment occurred as Marissa stood on the balcony weeping over her departing Ryan. As she fake-cries (being the blatantly obvious person on the show who so obviously lacks the talent to act), her bony hands reach into the planters and pull out a lovely bottle of drink. Drowning your sorrows again, Marissa? Tut, tut! You should know better, you're going to end up in therapy with that psycho Oliver again.

Yet another bang-my-head-against-the-wall moment (although, I have to admit that it got me a little misty-eyed) was when Seth sailed away (to Tahiti, I'm assuming) on his yacht...ahem...raft. What the hell?!? Is that thing even sea-worthy? It looks like it's made out of paper!

As much as I scoff in mock horror at the sordid tales of these hip, young, Californians, I will miss them and will be eagerly anticipating their return in the fall. Summer will be freshly tanned from a summer of frollicking in the sun and still be adorable as all hell. Seth will have returned from his soul-searching adventures a man (that is if he doesn't go the way of Tom Hanks in Castaway). Ryan will dump Theresa after she miscarries, or something equally tragic happens so that he can go back to Orange County and reclaim the Cohen pool house. And hopefully (fingers and toes crossed), Marissa will have fallen off that balcony a tangled, boney mess, having boozed up too much over the departure of her beloved Ryan.

deja-vu

The big cheese was quite chatty with me again today when we crossed paths in the lunch room, which was quite disarming. Not so much because of the chattiness (since he's been giving me the silent treatment lately), but because he repeated the same conversation we had last week - also as we crossed paths in the lunch room. Oh, and I use the word conversation lightly, since it consisted mostly of him yammering on about a proposal that I submitted, me nodding, mumbling "uh-huh, uh-huh" over-and-over again, and putting on a toothy smile.

*groan* I hate it when people speak for the sake of filling silence. But I guess it beats getting the silent treatment.

stirring the pot

It's hard to be excited about uncertainty. It's even harder to be excited about monotony. I guess, all the more reason to stir things up with my (somewhat stagnant) career. Sad, that at two years I feel fit to label it 'stagnant.' Maybe it's just the annual cycle of boredom, or my overly ambitious nature. Whatever it is, I'm ready for something else...I think.

Just started reading a novel by Tony Parsons and one of the lines (which I will now attempt to loosely recount from memory) struck me: The ones who care the least have all the power because they've simply got nothing to lose.

Problem is, I'm finding it hard not to care when I've invested so much time and energy caring about where my career goes. Perhaps the secret lies in learning to tear yourself away and somehow detaching...

Uncertainty sure beats monotony. There's a certain element of implied risk and adventure that's aluring about not knowing what lies ahead. Or maybe I'm just deluding myself.

power to the people

Just got back from a union meeting. Wish I had brought a friend, but unfortunately, I didn't plan ahead. Props to B for bringing snacks for our gang. Like a bunch of bored schoolchildren, we devoured the fruit gummies in no time flat. If not for the suga-suga, I doubt I would have had the energy to stay awake throughout the whole meeting.

The big vote of the evening was almost unanimous - at 93% against the management proposal. I can't help but tear up thinking of how proud Jimmy Hoffa would be at our show of solidarity. Can you hear me dripping with sarcasm?

i'm not a pervert!

Caught a flick with my sister last night. We were initially supposed to see Laws of Attraction, which i had free passes to, but the threatre was overbooked, so there were no seats left. The other folks with free passes reacted horribly to the news and were quite viscious to the poor girl at the ticket counter, tearing down signs, raising voices, and demanding to see the manager. Grace and I were good citizens and maintained our decorum, simply asking to purchase tickets to another show. Mom raised us to be well-behaved kids.

So, that's how we ended up watching 13 going on 30. I have to admit that I've been secretly wanting to watch it since I saw the previews a few months ago. I'm such a sucker for romatic comedies! Sap!

Of course, part of my fascination with the film may have to do with the fact that it stars Jennifer Garner, with whom I've harboured a crush since she played Hannah on Felicity. Grace thought she was a geek in that role, but I was all over the geeky grace that she portrayed.

Funny thing about the movie was that she played the role of a thirteen year old so well that I started to feel weird that I was ogling her throughout the movie. I felt like a pervert who was checking out a prepubescent teenage girl. However, I reassured myself that she was in a thirty year-old body - so the ogling, while perhaps a little barbaric and maybe not exactly super-classy, was somewhat validated. Phew!

I'm not a creep, I'm not a creep, I'm not a creep...