Stream of Consciousness: Swimming at a DC Public Pool

21 Sep

This locker room is what I would expect to find in a prison.

Except with more people in it.

And probably lice.

Soap on a rope!

Wow. That is one naked woman.

Why is she sitting on a chair in the shower?

Note to self: don’t ever sit naked on a chair in a public shower. Gross.

I’m glad the lifeguard didn’t ask for my ID today.

I must look urban.

I wonder if they would’ve stopped Alan.

Wow. The water is WARM.

I bet I’ll overheat.

Sweating in the water is weird.

But it happens.

Why does that sign say “Water Running?”

I don’t SEE any water running.

<Four laps later>

Ah ha! They mean “water running” as in “people running” in the water.

Not the water running.

That’s embarrassing. I’ve been here a half dozen times looking for running water.

That explains why the fat woman always hangs out in this lane and doesn’t swim.

Although actually, she’s not running. She’s water-standing.

I wonder if I’ll get kicked out of this lane?

I am hot.

I wonder if the water tastes saltier because I am sweating?

Is my key still stuck to my head?

<Patting back of head while breast-stroking>

It is! Good!

What would I do if it wasn’t there?

How ironic would that be?

If by trying to protect my stuff, I end up losing the  key.

Which would be worse: having someone steal my stuff because I left the key to my lock on the deck, or not being able to get to my stuff because I tied the key to my goggles and it fell off and disappeared into the pool drain?

Not sure.

Those girls have on the exact same suit.

I wonder if they’re on a team together?

If they are, then it’s not a good team because I’m faster than them.

I wonder if the lifeguard would actually notice if someone drowned?

Are they allowed to talk on their cell phones on duty?

I bet they are breaking the rules.

<Scanning bottom of pool to make sure no swimmers need to be rescued.>

How weird that I can’t wait to get out of the water to cool down.

I bet that’s why that woman was sitting on a chair in the shower: heat stroke.

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I hope this means he has rhythm.

18 Sep

Ah, Facebook. What would I do without you? My life is so much richer for having you in it.

Case in point: without Facebook, I wouldn’t realize that my 12 year-old nephew is actually 68% black.

I know, I know. This might come as something of a shock to people who are familiar with his corn-silk white hair, blue eyes and creamy complexion. But according to a quiz he took on Facebook (titled, “How Black Are You?”), it turns out he’s 68% black.

Now, I haven’t seen the questions that led to this conclusion, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t involve a DNA sample. Perhaps he knows some rap lyrics and can appropriately attribute the “I have a dream” speech to MLK Jr?

I just hope he doesn’t take the result too seriously and think it means he is a good dancer. I made that mistake once myself, dancing wildly to Eminem at a discotheque in France shouting, “Detroit in the house! Right here!” and pointing at my chest. Fortunately, no one in France can dance, so it wasn’t as horrific if I’d made that claim in a NY club.

Another reason I love Facebook is because it allows me to crack myself up. Regularly. Last week I was practically in tears coming up with what I thought were funny comments to add when  “Alan is in a relationship” showed up in my news feed. My first response (which I refrained from posting) was, “…with his hand.”

That had me rolling on the floor, in no small part because I had stolen the phrase from one of my nephew’s pre-teen friends. (Yes, I’m admitting my sense of humor most closely aligns to that of prepubescent boys.)

When I told Alan how much this thought had tickled me, he said, “Good thing you didn’t post that, because my response would’ve been, ‘With YOUR hand.'” Which also cracked me up.

For whatever reason, when I get to laughing like this, it reminds me of how Snoopy would laugh on Peanuts, slapping the table with his paw:

So to all the Facebook haters, I offer: anything that causes that much laughter can’t be all bad. It has to be at least 68% good, right?

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The stuff nightmares are made of…

15 Sep

This week I’ve been plagued by some crazy nightmares. Not the kind that involve monsters or death, but the kind that to me are infinitely more frightening: the kind that are based in reality and involve a total brainfart on my part.

For example, last night’s nightmare featured me blogging about how I’ve only had six vacation days this year – followed by a scene in which my boss tells me I’ve incorrectly tracked my days and have actually taken 24 days of vacation – PLUS the five I’m out on now – and as a result I need to pay the company back for my excessive absence. My favorite part was when I said, “Hold on. You mean you track this in a SPREADSHEET?” like it was the craziest thing an employer could do, and she asked how I tracked my days and I started to demonstrate by counting on my fingers.

At least, I’m pretty sure that didn’t actually happen. Yet.

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Staycation – Day One: Shhhh… this is a library!

14 Sep

So my post yesterday was about a real, live negotiation that I thought went rather poorly because I had a fifty year old woman screaming at me for 45 minutes. Apparently the universe wanted to help me put it in perspective, because today I got to witness a REAL difference of opinion. At the library, nonetheless.

Today is Day One of my Staycation.

(Long story short, I’ve only taken six days off this year and my stress level is through the roof, so I decided to take four days off to recharge my batteries. Alas, having bought, furnished and decorated a place over the last three months, I’m not exactly rolling in cash for a vacation, so I decided to keep it local and do my favorite things. All at once. Like I’m a one-man-vacation-band of sorts.)

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TIP: If it really was a partnership, you wouldn’t need to tell me.

13 Sep

"You might be a more effective negotiator if you didn't use the 'f' word so frequently."

I can’t provide too much back-story here without compromising the anonymity of the other party (and no, it’s not Alan!), so I’m just going to offer some seemingly obvious bits of advice that  occurred to me in the midst of an unfortunate exchange with another person today:

  • When negotiating, it is generally best to NOT let the other party know they have nothing left to lose before you’ve arrived at what it is you’re seeking.
  • Try not to shriek – unless you would like to perpetuate the notion that women are too emotional to be trusted in Corporate America.
  • When I’m in the middle of summarizing my understanding of the situation and on my way to proposing a solution, don’t interrupt me unless you don’t want a solution.
  • Don’t say “legally” unless you have a J.D. or – barring that – can pronounce “fiduciary” without sounding like you’re hooked on phonics.
  • If you DO say “legally” and I know you don’t have a leg to stand on, don’t act insulted when I ask if you have a law degree or suggest that you conference in your counsel so that we can get a valid interpretation of the contract.
  • If you have to state (repeatedly) that, “We are all adults here. We are MATURE adults here. We are grown-ups. We behave like grown-ups,” then you probably aren’t. Act it, don’t say it.
  • And if you find yourself saying, “I’m not trying to be unprofessional by yelling at you,” then guess what? You’re not only trying, you’re succeeding!

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