Tag Archives: job


If I had to pick events that would always fit in the “not exactly ready” kind of moment, a celebrity run-in/spotting would be on the list. I have not had many of those. I once saw Tiny Tim at Target, and there was an Ethan Embry (or Hawk? ugh, I can’t remember now) sighting at an airport in Canada somewhere. Kristin swears we saw Josh Duhamel in NYC, and I’ll claim it because I don’t know enough to say otherwise. The best was Hulk Hogan in the Atlanta airport on my way to Disney World. And then that one time I interviewed professional matchmaker Steve Ward. But I don’t think I’ve ever met a celebrity, or touched one (errrr…..)

Until now!

That’s right, folks. My job doesn’t have a lot of opportunities for universal bragging rights. I mean, unless you know who Mick de Giulio is (I emailed his PR lady one time) or you know the kitchen designs of Karen Williams (totally called her two weeks ago) or you find a Bertazzoni as sexy as I do (not like I’ve ever touched one). But you probably don’t. What you DO probably know, however, is the show Extreme Makeover Home Edition. Now, don’t get too excited. I didn’t meet Ty. (Although, that’s a possibility in the future. So stay tuned. Next spring.) I met Tracy Hutson! Yeah, I didn’t know who she was either. But plenty of people out there do. EITHER WAY; I MET ONE. A REAL-LIFE CELEBRITY. We shook hands. She looked a bit like a sailor. She didn’t eat anything. She talked like a sorority girl (fast, reiterative). She told us about her new TV show that I kind of (totally) want to watch, but can’t actually tell you about yet. I can’t tell you about this sweet kitchen faucet, either, but I bet you don’t care about that.

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I saw him

Let me give you a backstory.

I hate congested driving. Yes, I know Des Moines rush hours are actually nothing compared to you folk in big cities. I don’t care. This is what I have to deal with, or actually, don’t. Instead of engaging my already bad road rage, I leave work by 4 or 4:30, and I arrive at 7 or at 9.

Because I was overeager when I first start the job, and therefore needed to arrive by 7, I became acquainted with the cars of other morning people who also don’t merit parking spots from the company. One car in particular stuck out–a gunmetalish Pontiac TransAm with the ridiculous bird logo all over it and a license plate that says “Luckeeeeey.”


Ever since my first encounter with the douchemobile, I’ve imagined the pink-slip toting fool to be Meredith’s equivalent of The Todd. It’s honestly impossible to believe anyone else could drive this car. His tat might say “web” or “ed” or “art” or “mag” or something equivalent, but the impact is the same.

Due to my competitive road rage, I’ve started an imaginary feud with Sir Bananahammock. When I get to work before him, I consider it a win for the day. Like I want to brag to someone about beating The Todd to his stomping grounds, but no one I work with knows what I’m talking about. So I just smile to myself in my cube. In the dark.


ANYHOO. That quiet-but-satisfying battle reached a new level today when I arrived late, at 7:15. Apparently The Todd had a disheveled morning, because although he arrived early enough to get his coveted spot (right next to the stairs so we all have to check out his ride), he left something in the car. I’m assuming his access badge. As I pull up, iced coffee in hand and “It’s In The Morning” bumpin’ on the speakers, The Todd comes across the bridge. He’s wearing jeans and a stupid graphic-T that’s too small. So far, so good. Everything in its place.

Then he gets in his car. His car with suicide doors.

[Suicide doors. The things that only belong on Lamborghinis or whatever vehicle drunk Ashley lets her man get during a mid-life crisis.]

The Todd shut the door, pranced up the stairs two at a time, and was in the building before I had even processed what had happened.

It was like starting my Friday with a Big Foot sighting. But better than anything I had ever imagined. I was only slightly disappointed he didn’t fistpump the whole way across the bridge.

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as a friend & mentor

On the way to a photoshoot in Humboldt last week [which included awkwardly spilled coffee and a speeding ticket] my boss suggested “as a friend and mentor, not a boss,” that I look for another job.


The problem is, I love what I’m doing. Plus, the market is crazy, a job could open sometime. Maybe. When I’m 60. Not to mention that leaving the happy M family means that I’d be banned from working there for a whole year. A WHOLE YEAR. People, I’ve worked here for 3 years. And, well, I’m lazy. I don’t want to move for a fourth time in a year (if that’s what it comes down to). How much does DSM have to offer a grad school dropout with a broad knowledge of James Bond films and kitchen & bath stuff? Probably not a lot.

But am I really, truly screwing myself over if I stay with the shaky k&b group? Tell me! Don’t worry, your vote is anonymous.

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Work It

Dear printer four floors down from my cube-

My ass, thighs & calves thank you.


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We’re not in the 515 anymore, Toto

Being home has sucked all the drive out of me. Working on my freelance stories (I have three out right now) is impossible. Part of this is because the house is an absolute disaster and I always prefer cleaning and organizing to any kind of important work. The other problem is that I’m trying to work in my giant queen bed–a place where I would much rather be reading, sleeping, or watching the insane amount of Netflix that I’ve consumed since moving back to SUX.

I had dreams of waking up today and  teaching productivity a thing or two. I was going to plug in, earbud up, and tickle the laptop keys–in unison with the tunes on Pandora’s Frank Sinatra radio (a writer’s block favorite of mine)–as long as it’d take me to accomplish a solid chunk of work. Or, at least, make some headway on the work and manage a decent blog update.

This was, until, I realized the city is nothing like Des Moines and I can’t show up at the local library or coffee shop and have that burst of inspiration. Hell, I can’t even really show up at a local shop  at all, because they’re small and don’t have the room for an all-afternoon patron.

Instead, I’m switching between the dining room table and the sun-drenched deck, totally distracted by things like my nonexistent tan, the dead mouse in the laundry room, and the 500 Barnes & Noble boxes I’m anxiously waiting to show up at my front door.

Even at home, though, I can’t shake my alliteration-loving writing style. “With a satin nickel finish, it can be a fun and functional centerpiece or simply a stylish storage solution.” God I hope that gets published.

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Last Day.

To You

…unappreciative Holiday shoppers.
…upper-class housewives and weekday-shoppers.
…impatient gift givers.
…self-entitled, self-righteous, demanding little bitches.
…ten-after shoppers.
…Hollister-and-Abercrombie-toting wanna-be MILFs.
…nubile youths with everything they want plus a general malaise.
…holiday-weekend shoppers cloaked in blood orange sunburns.
…loose-fingered yuppies dangerously dangling Starbucks over slipcovers.
…double-wide-stroller conductors.

Peace out. Today I finished with you. And it feels SO good.

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A Year

I can’t believe I missed my own birthday/anniversary! Today as I sat at the sorority house while some of my sisters were getting ready to go out, I realized that I had started blogging this time last year.


I’d say a lot has happened in that  year. I graduated. I got a part-time job, more gigs in the mag world, and into grad school. I learned to cook more things than just cheese tortillas (boiling water for pasta was a big step). I became addicted to Netflix. I had a random guy ask me for my number for the first time. I visited Boston. I saw some amazing concerts and signed my first apartment lease. I did some things I had always wanted, and definitely discovered some new things about myself.

I wasn’t ready for a lot of it. I’m not as ‘disheveled’ as I was in my first post– although I’m still quite uncertain. But it’s cool. I like where I’m at, who I’m with, and where I’m going. And there are a lot more unexpected things to come.


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