Save 83% on a Sports Illustrated subscription for 56 issues.

Or, rather, it’s time to share it with YOU, because I already did that shiz. Check it out:

Our winner is: SkylersDad! I’ll be sending you an email so you can pick out your favorite cookies.

And as an aside, my very first post is up on iostudio’s blog – my 2 cents on Google+ thus far. Check it out!

Mama said share.

Great deals on magazine subscriptions with no auto renewals.

So, you all know that I started a lovely new job in January. (And if you don’t, consider yourself EDUCATED, fool!!)

Said lovely new job involves a bit of travel. One and two day trips to consult with clients around the country; a conference here and there. At first, I was excited. “I’m so Big Time!”, I thought. “I’ll get to visit e-friends all over, see new cities, huzzah!”

Anyone who’s ever had to travel for work would now like to tell me one thing:

I’m an idiot.

Work travel is basically everything that’s stressful about a vacation, except, yanno… minus the vacation. You agonize over what to pack, only times a bazillion because it’s FOR YOUR JOB. You worry about being late, only times a bazillion because it’s FOR YOUR JOB. You actually have to shower in the morning, only times a bazillion because it’s FOR YOUR JOB. (What?)

In a nutshell, it’s travel without sun, sand, skis, or wine. Hopefully at the end of the day there is a job well done, and maybe HBO in the hotel (but never Bravo, WTF?!) – but that’s about it.

Now, I’m not complaining. Because even considering all that, traveling to meet with clients is still pretty cool, frankly. And I love my job, so putting a checkbox in the “great meeting!” box feels fantastic.

It’s just, you know… stressy and such.

(For those of you who were following my journey to Wisconsin on Twitter yesterday, which totally involved me DRIVING A CAR, LIKE, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOUR-ISH YEARS??? … I’m alive! So is everyone else who I encountered on the road! The car is even intact!)

And, as a bonus, I had dinner with the absolutely hysterical and extremely freaking talented Jenn of Ex Hot Girl, who then- probably due to the multiple boozy beverages I plied her with- took me to her studio to just, you know, shoot some headshots for fun. Because that’s what awesome fun people who are also photogs do, apparently. And in less than three minutes (no, seriously) – the girl made me look like this:

Click here to see her professional site/portfolio

If you need a headshot for social media (or anything else), wedding/engagement photos, etc – please check her out! She does travel and she IS amazing. Thank you Jenn!!!

Mama said share.

Well, this has been a long time coming. But the past couple weeks have been such a whirlwind of wonderful, I honestly didn’t know where to start. So, I’m just gonna lay it out there:

You know that shiny new job I wanted for Christmas?

Well…

I GOT IT.

As of January 3rd, 2011, I will no longer spend 40 hours a week at a “job”.

I will be spending it at a CAREER.

Specifically, a career in social media. All the hours spent with my many, many, many, MANY extracurriculars have finally paid off. No longer will my passions and my profession be separate- I will be doing what I’m good at, what I truly enjoy… and getting paid in cold hard cash.

(heyooooooooooo)

And I know that NONE of it would have happened without the internet. Without the web, the job wouldn’t exist. The connections wouldn’t have been made. I wouldn’t have figured out what I want to do with my life.

So God bless you, Al Gore. And more importantly, every single one of YOU who sent me a job link or forwarded my resume or put a shout out on the Tweet or FB or even just listened to me vent on Gchat all day long… or over a beer (or seven).

I don’t know what else to say. It feels like all the pieces have fallen into place, and at just the right time. I know this job won’t be easy- I wouldn’t want it if it weren’t a challenge- but I’m so READY to take it on. I can’t wait to start the new year fresh, with the professional finally matching the personal.

And to all of you who are out there looking… I offer you these words of inspiration and wisdom:

(image credit nataliedee)

Have a scrumptious and sparkle-filled holiday, everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

Monday was, to put it mildly, not a good day.

It was a day of bleak, of gray, of complete and utter desolate-ness. It was a world where unicorns really don’t exist, where kittens never play patty-cake, where you do shoot your eye out with the BB gun.

In sum, I woke up that morning, after a glorious five day vacation, and was physically ill at the idea of going back to my sad, dreary little cubicle, where I spend 40 hours a week with very nice people… that I have nothing in common with, while doing nothing that I love.

Old news, I know. And nobody likes a whiner.

So- after I whined a bit- I finally reached down, deep inside myself, and found my get up and go shut up and keep plodding along.

Because yes, the job hunt is hard. It’s exhausting. It’s disappointing and demeaning and UTTERLY SPIRIT-CRUSHING, at times.

But. If I know anything to be true, it’s the fact that pouting in a corner isn’t going to change a damn thing. (Insert “nobody puts Baby in a” joke here.)

And while many of you have gone above and beyond in your kind words and encouragement regarding me and my talents and whatnot (seriously, bearhugs’nstuff), I think it’s about time I started, oh, what’s that corny phrase again? The one in Pixar movies and fairy tales and Rocky sequels?

Oh, right. “Believing in myself.”

(Is there a way to add glitter to that sentence?)

I just google-imaged "believe in yourself" and this was the only picture that didn't make me want to hurl.

So. It’s time for a little self-love, since I didn’t get any of this action when I went through TSA last week.

REASONS WHY I AM AWESOME
AND YOU SHOULD PROBABLY HIRE ME

(Or tell your boss to hire me.)

(You know, if you actually need someone in the Social Media/Digital Marketing department.)

(Or the “pet the kitties” department. I’d be good at that too.)

1. Since I was ten years old,  I’ve been training to be the brain-storming champion of the world. Ever hear of a little thing called Odyssey of the Mind? No? That’s okay, no one has. But know this: while you spent your childhood playing soccer and selling Girl Scout Cookies, I was off strengthening my creative muscles to be somebody’s idea (wo)man in a 2.0 world someday.

2. I can work unicorns into the conversation at ANY time to diffuse an awkward or uncomfortable situation.

3. I am beyond “plugged in” to the 20- and 30-somethings culture; in some circles, I might even be called a pillar of it. And I dare you to make a pop culture or internet meme joke I won’t get.

4. My degree may be in International Politics and Psychology, rather than Communications. But everything that I’m skilled at- social media, event planning, marketing, writing, networking- are all, in this day and digital age, hopelessly intertwined and (I believe) learned intuitively, by doing, and by possessing a natural inclination for them- more than any Communications degree could ever accomplish. (And hey, MTV doesn’t come knocking on just anyone’s door to be their first Twitter Jockey.)

5. I’m ready for a company and career that I can truly devote myself to, and when I give, I give BIG. Take my heart, now. Go on… take it!!!

6. I’m not just good with people; I can truly talk to anyone or anything. Seriously. Leave me alone with your wall for an hour and I’ll be a bridesmaid at its wedding. Oh, you didn’t know it was dating the couch? Don’t feel bad- we’re just close like that.

7. I’m actually really, really good at this social media/digital marketing shiz. And it’s not just my mom saying so, because she doesn’t understand most of it. So there.

8. And finally, because every office needs their very own Liz Lemon.

Come on, now. How you gonna turn THIS down?

So feel free to pass my LinkedIn profile along. Click that “share” button below and send this post here, there and everywhere. Add it to your email signature, perhaps, or include it on your holiday cards. I’ve always liked your family.

You’ve brought me so far, my beloved interwebs. Let us conquer this one last hill together, you and I. Someone grab my bootstraps and pull, y’all. I feel my nine hundredth wind coming on.

All I want for Christmas… is a SHINY NEW JOB.

(that I love.)

Mama said share.

One of the assistants I work with is newly knocked up. (Yes, it was on purpose, but using that phrase makes me feel like I’m fighting back- just the tiniest bit- against all the MIRACLE OF LIFE talk up in here since she announced her Baby On Board status).

This event, of course, has given every woman in our very large department cause to stop by, congratulate, and of course, share their own entirely-not-work-appropriate pregnancy and labor war stories. As I sit a mere half dozen feet away from said assistant, it has been my distinct displeasure to hear every. single. ONE of them.

And I sit at my computer and type away furiously, ignoring them as hard as I possibly can… that is, until yesterday:

Random Coworker: When I was pregnant, I had this big bump under my belly button. We thought it was the baby’s heel, so we kept telling it “oh, we love you! Look at your strong feet!” etc. etc… Then I went to the doctor for an ultrasound and she told me, “Oh, that’s a hernia.”

Preggers: Oh… my… um… what was it like?

Random Coworker: Oh, just this large, spongy tissue thing. I had surgery to have it removed afterwards.

Me: *VOMITS*

Let’s break down how I felt about that, a la GIFs that @elizabethtalks sends me all day at work to cheer me up:

First, it was a whole lotta this:

And then a hefty side of that:

Topped off with a healthy dose of this:

And, from now on? I will be taking an unscheduled pee break whenever someone comes by and sing-songs How ya doooooin’?? to Preggers. Because, frankly, I like my lunch to stay in my stomach.

Also? Someone PLEASE to find me a new job. Seriously. Email me. … Preferably before we enter the third trimester.

***Don’t forget to check out my DC Blogs round up today!***

Mama said share.

~Hey! Are you reading this in a Reader? That’s cool… don’t want the man to see you being lazy, for sure. But do me a wee favor and click here, just for a second, if you don’t mind… *vague and mysterious ftw*~

Well, it finally happened.

I knew it was going to. I could have stopped it. I could have prevented it, if only I had taken a precious few seconds of my life to think before I acted.

Ok, wait. Let’s back it up. (Ha. That will be punny in a moment.)

Every once in a while, I have to pee. Consequently, I will, at times, use a restroom. Sometimes I even do it at work.

But, see, here’s the thing. I have this really bad efficient habit of, um, “getting ready” before I enter the stall. “Making preparations,” if you will.

Must’ve been all those years of Brownies.

(And by years, I mean one. One class. Brownies freaking blew.)

So, yeah, without fail, I begin the pulling-down-of-the-pants, or the pulling-up-of-the-skirt, before I am actually within in the confines of a specific cube of bathroom privacy.

Which means that anyone walking in said bathroom would unwillingly be privy to a sneak preview of my bathing suit area.

Given that this is A) a women’s restroom and B) a place of work, I’ll go out on a limb here and say that none of the potential viewers want a piece of that.

And I KNOW this. I think about it every time I go to the bathroom, and think,

“Damn! I did it again! Moron… one of these days it is gonna happen, and it’s not going to be pretty. Check yoself!”

But I still do it every. damn. time.

And yesterday, Wile E. Coyote finally caught the Road Runner.

Or something.

Basically, I mooned my boss.

I'm slightly better looking.

No, that’s not accurate, actually…

I mooned my BOSS’ boss.

Is there a someecard for that?

Mama said share.

~Hey! Are you reading this in a Reader? That’s cool… don’t want the man to see you being lazy, for sure. But do me a wee favor and click here, just for a second, if you don’t mind… *vague and mysterious ftw*~

So! My (23 year old) baby sister joined the rat race a few weeks ago. Though we both built character worked through college, she was in restaurants and bank teller-ing, so she’s never had the full-fledged “Office Space” experience before.

It’s been beyond hilarious for me to witness her (via many gchat conversations) discover all the horrible things that come along with the cubicle farm environment, like crotchety old coworkers, bathroom trials and tribulations (the stand-off!!!), pretending to looking busy, avoiding getting dragged into a “lunch group,” etc. etc.

One of the biggest things we both despise about working with people-we-didn’t-choose in a professional setting is, of course, the small talk.

OH GOD, the small talk. If I could banish its existence from this world, I would. I would make everyone’s mouth disappear the moment they tried to talk about the weather, or their kid’s birthday party, or their irritable bowel syndrome.

It would be magical.

But alas, I have no unicorn to speak of, and so we must suffer through it.

Anyhoo, as she was mocking her coworkers yesterday for their endless droning on about insignificant stuff ‘n things, the following conversation ensued…

Lil Sis: seriously, they’re talking about fucking BJs right now
  like literally what things cost

me: who!

Lil Sis: work people

me: *silence*

Lil Sis: You can get 14 bars of Lever soap for like $7!

me: OH
  oh my god.

Lil Sis: RIGHT?

me: um… NOT what i thought you meant when you said BJs.

Lil Sis: ooooo hahahahaha

Apparently, I’ve been away from Massachusetts so long, I’ve forgotten that BJ’s can also mean this:

I kill myself.

Also, now I’m kind of wondering about what they cost.

And not the wholesale kind.




P.S. Thanks to DC Blogs for the shout-out to my neon orange Jersey Shore tribute/condemnation yesterday!

(I’m probably bipolar.)

Mama said share.

Dear ladies in the OFFICE BUILDING gym locker room,

Tatas. Hoo-has. Heinies of all shapes and sizes.

We’ve all got ‘em, to be sure. I’ve seen a boob or ten in my day, and I in no way oppose nudity. I am no Charlotte York; a good skinny dip never hurt anybody. (Unless you can’t swim. Then why the hell were you skinny dipping, idjit??)

But. As Jerry Seinfeld explained to us, there is “good” naked… and there is “bad” naked.

Good naked?

Making pancakes for your significant other on a lazy Sunday afternoon in just that cute little apron. (Not ME, Mom. Like, in movies and stuff. Yeah…)

Bad naked?

Having a ten minute chat with a fellow employee- or God forbid, ME- with the poon just haaaangin out there, waving at me all the while.

(P.S.? If you can braid it, it’s TOO LONG.)

And then. Then when you finally wrap up said chat about your boss (gross) or your children (grosser) or your I-can’t-hear-you-because-I-just-stabbed-myself-in-the-eardrum-with-one-of-the-free-tampons-just-to-make-it-STOP, then…

You cavalierly saunter over to the sink, and begin to blow dry your hair…

With daddy long leg vadge and pancake boobs swinging proudly, for all to see.

*………..*

Look.

I am not a particularly modest woman.

I feed the cats in my birthday suit every morning as I get ready for work. I’ll pee in front of any woman I’ve known and adored for at least five minutes. I’ll happily discuss an interesting bowel movement- “It looked like prepubscent Jesus’ beard!”- with, well, anyone who’ll listen. (And preferably, chime in with a battle/glory story of their own.)

And so, dear ladies at my office gym, I say this to you. If I, of all people, find your utter lack of modesty offensive…

May the heavens above have mercy on your naked ass soul.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***What are you doing for St. Paddy’s Day? I know I’ll be rocking out at Shamrock Fest, March 13th at RFD Stadium. Booze, live music (including LMFAO what!!), and an excuse to wear a ridiculous hat? I’m there. Hopefully you will be too!***

Yes, this is an ad. Mama is poor, yo:

Download 650-393 questions & answers with self paced 000-105 practice test to pass 1Y0-A15 exam within days.

Mama said share.

Bullet time!

~ Yesterday’s comments were pretty amazing- if you haven’t weighed in yet, I’d love to hear what you think. Saved by the Bell is involved.

~ My sister, who is young, talented, gorgeous, way funnier than me, and incredibly intelligent (she totally kicked my ass in the SATs), is in need of a job in the Boston area. If you know of any professional openings, please drop me a line here and I’ll put you in contact. Also, I will forever be in your debt and send you cookies like, at least twice a year. For a year.

~ My butt buddy Jenn, who is young, talented, gorgeous, lit-rally BUCKETS of fun, and too damn smart for her own good (in the “you’d-love-her-to-work-for-you” kinda way), is ALSO in need of a job… in D.C. My people in the District, rise up and come forth and all that! Shoot me an email and I will have her send you her (impressive) resume faster than a Democrat losing the key Senate seat in Massachusetts.

~ ZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!

~ After the 20-hour headache that was putting together the (awesome-and-totally-worth-it!!!!!) Love Harder video, I have officially decided I need a Mac. Anyone selling a laptop? That they will promise on pain of my ripping them a new one on this blog is totally legit and will not die on me? BECAUSE IF ANOTHER COMPUTER DIES ON ME I WILL GO ALL STABBY ON A STRANGE CHILD and no one wants that.

~ I’ve got a guest post over at Middle Aged Waitress today, in which I recount my First Day Ever of being a waitress. Suffice to say, it did not go well…

~ Thought I’ve said it all over the interwebs, I have yet to officially say Thank You, so much, to everyone who voted for me in the 20SB Bootleg Awards. I walked away with more than my fair share, and I could not be more honored. I knew I had “Most Awkward” in the bag, but “Best Female”? “Funniest”? Y’all blow me the freak away. (More awesome news to come re: me and 20SB later this week… WOOT!)

~ I have a copy of TFLN to give away! The book is a comprisal of all the best “Texts No One Remembers Sending”… and it is one hawt mess. Just leave a comment here to be entered! (Winner announced Friday.)

Mama said share.

Last Friday, I had the grave misfortune of attending… dum dum dum… a “Work and Time Management” seminar. You see, I work at one of those huge, incredibly bureaucratic companies where, come Annual Review time, you’d better have some concrete thingamabobs to put on that form that represent trying to better oneself.

I know, I know. Total BS. But whatevs, mama needs a raise. So I’m playing the game, see?

The seminar was from 9 to 5, aka alllllllllllllllllllllllllll goddamn day. So I knew going in it would either be a great thing (i.e. an easy day off work), or complete and utter torture.

I grabbed a coffee and a seat with a few ladies I recognized from my department. I immediately noticed the four “drawing boards” strategically placed at the corners of the room, just screaming “WE ENCOURAGE ACTIVE PARICIPATION!!!”

And the sense of dread set in.

Sure enough, at 9 sharp, a rotund woman in a pants suit that did nothing for her gathered herself at the front of the room, and clapped her hands together sharply.

“Goooooooooood morning!!!”

It was all I could do not to shout “VIETNAM!” at the top of my lungs. The room gave her a half-hearted, “I haven’t had my coffee yet” bedraggled response.

I already knew what was coming.

“I know it’s morning, but you can do better than that!!! It’s FRIIIIIIIIIIday!”

Seriously, lady? SERIOUSLY? That line hasn’t been funny for the past two decades… and I’m willing to bet, neither have you.

She spent the rest of the day giggling at us like Mrs. Butterworth on happy pills while choking on corporate buzzword after buzzword.

“Urgency versus importance!” “Stressful work environments!” “Time management tips & tricks!”

At 10:40, I finally managed to escape long enough to tweet my despair…

“In a seminar w/ teacher Mary Fucking Sunshine. I honestly do not get how one can be so full of PEP and GLEE and STEREOTYPICAL CATCH PHRASES.”

I was just waiting for her to refer to us as her “special people”, a la Billy Madison.

But the most annoying part of it all? It actually wasn’t her. It was the dumbass robots around me who bought every last bit of it, hook line and sinker. The sympathetic nods as people sob-storied about working til 9pm, eating lunch at their desks, even having insomnia from getting up at 3am to handle correspondence with our Asia and Pacific branch.

Um… WHAT? Why??? We’re all assistants. I know what you get paid. Why on earth would you do that to yourself in a dead end job? Didn’t anyone ever teach you to keep the bar low??

After a couple hours of talking about our feeeeeelings, Mary pulls out her handy dandy self-developed “Time Management Matrix” tool, outlining the four categories ‘tasks’ should be labeled as in order to identify their priority in our “work plans”. Whatever, right? Let’s just get this over wi-

And then someone actually tried to ARGUE with Mary that the categories were wrong.

<Insert world’s biggest, huffiest sigh of agitated disbelief here.>

Do you really think the lady who MADE THIS UP is going to say, “Oh hey, glorified secretary, you’re right! I’ve been going about this wrong for 15 years! How silly of me to have been teaching this all over the world!”

It’s a good thing there weren’t any sharp objects in that room. I think I would have been the first person to off another human being with a stapler.

OOOOOOOooooo. I just got the email to complete my evaluation of said course…

This? Should be fun.

*evil cackle*

Mama said share.