An ode to Cupid... and yoga pants
Hello my lovelies,
Happy Valentine's Day! I thought you might appreciate a brief history of Valentine's Day. If so, I'd recommend Google. If you just type "history of Valentine's day" into Google's magical search box, that evil mistress will entice you with hours of time wasting information about the subject and if you get bored with that you can always just pass the time by clicking those pictures of all of the super cute shoes she pastes all over the page. Hmmmm, you don't all have pictures of really cute shoes there. Weird, I guess Google likes me better. OR, perhaps that is a direct result of a recent wine-induced shopping spree... (FWIW, I am returning two of the three pairs because they were soooooo much cuter online.)
OK, that's pretty much the extent of chatter about Valentine's Day that you are going to hear from me, because, well, because Valentine's day is not about ME and you all know that pretty much my sole purpose in writing this prattling drivel is to talk about me. Let's do that, let's talk about me, shall we!
I am delighted to report that last week (Thursday, Feb 8 - Happy Birthday Katie B.) I left my job at the city. Without going into details I'll just say I hated it there, they hated me and mercifully I was released from that little self-induced prison. Oh, and that six-month probation period is really pretty fabulous. No strings, no commitments just mutual goodbyes! I spent the remainder of the day Thursday dealing with a few final Ray accounts that were hanging around. I'd left them active because I wanted to get past the one year mark to see if I heard anything, since it's now been more than a year and I haven't heard anything I cancelled everything. Wahoo, that's another $100 per month I have to piss away on shoes! Kidding, seriously, I have to be kidding, I live in a small apartment now. My closet is FULL and it appears that my clothes/shoes wardrobe either exploded or is possibly reproducing in the closet of my spare bedroom. I'm frankly too afraid to deal with it in its current state.
OK seriously, enough about my damn shoes already, what I'm here to lament about is my new wardrobe. It seems that I have developed a great fondness for yoga pants. Thursday, when I got home, I promptly hung up my work clothes and donned yoga pants. Friday, I had a phone interview, which I thankfully realized 30-minute prior to it starting that it was a video interview, so I was able to jump in the shower to wash my hair (I was on day three and it was not pretty) and slap on a smattering of makeup. For the interview, (totally nailed the interview, but it's not the job I want) since I knew I would be sitting at my kitchen counter I wore a black sweater and pearls with my yoga pants. Booyah! I successfully pulled of the fashion-mullet "Business on the top, party down-below!" Full disclosure, that may also become my new dating slogan! That is IF I ever actually manage to "date" successfully. Sidebar: I recently had one unsuccessful attempt at dating-ish? Don't worry, I did NOT sleep with him. That experience simply reinforced that boys are stupid and dating sucks. Oh, yeah and "dating" in 1998 before texting and pictures sucked, but I think it sucked less. Anyway, I think you get where this is headed. In nearly a week of unemployment I've only put on pants three times. Rest assured the yoga pants do NOT have words on the ass (or anywhere else on them) I only wear them outside of my apartment to take out the trash, get the mail or go to the gym. Furthermore, I HAVE successfully managed to wear said yoga pants to workout 4 of the last 5 days. No judging after a Sunday brunch with a LOT of mimosa's my workout was a nap, though I did manage to get out for a brief walk (I did wear yoga pants on my walk) after my champagne-induced nap.
Before you begin to worry that I am going to inundate your mailboxes with flotsam and jetsam about my love/hate relationship with spandex in public places I am delighted to inform you that accepted a job offer yesterday. Technically, I verbally accepted it on Monday night, but signed the official acceptance letter yesterday. It's an IT Project Management/Consulting role that will involve a fairly significant amount of travel. In the beginning of the interview I told the hiring manager that I do not have any desire to be a full time project manager, by the end of the interview the hiring manager was beaming and assured me that while I will have "Project Manager" in my title the majority of the role will not be typical PM work.
Yesterday, when I returned my acceptance letter I cc'd my new manager. Within seconds of me hitting send he replied with this "Just so you know, this makes my week!! Enjoy your time off…can’t wait to have you here…" I officially start my new job on Monday, March 5 and since I am going to have a project management title I've decided that I need to complete my damn PMP. For those of you who didn't know I sat for the exam in late December and failed. I'd studied for weeks and felt totally prepared, so it was a huge blow to fail. I'm now scheduled to re-sit for the exam on Feb 28, so my time-off is going to largely be spent studying the PMBOK. UGH - it still sucks, I hate everything about it, but I actually feel like I am comprehending it better this time. I'm fairly certain that is mostly because I'm not obsessing about the miserable project I was working on in my last job.
Finally, for those of you who really wanted that history of Valentine's day, here's an excerpt from my googling.
Long before St. Valentine’s execution, February 14 had come to be associated with fertility—and blood. Between February 13 and 15, Romans celebrated the feast of Lupercalia by sacrificing a goat and a dog and then whipping naked women with the hides, all in the interest of making the women more fertile.
WOW! ...whipping naked women with the hides, those crazy Roman's sure did know a thing or two about romance... On second thought, this approach really would make a pretty kickass party story to tell about how we met.
Can't you just see me sitting at party, glass of wine in hand (hello, it's me, of course I have a glass of wine in hand) reminiscing... "Well, after sacrificing a goat he whipped me with a hide which quite literally swept me off my feet. It also caused a little head injury, which is why we've been together ever since. Isn't that precious!"
I wonder if Tinder or Match is a better dating site option to find me a goat sacrificing hunk of manlove..... I'm guessing Tinder! I'll keep you posted!
Until next time...
XOXO