Baked Potato Outrage and the Ethics of Free Condiments

Tragedy to end all tragedies--I went to Fuddrucker's no less than 30 minutes ago to get a baked potato. I was so excited about it. I've been on kind of a baked potato kick lately, mostly satisfying my cravings by going through the Wendy's drive-thru. (They're not great, but they are potato-y, and that's really all I'm after) So, in doing a little research, I discovered that Fuddrucker's sells baked potatoes, with bacon, cheese, etc. Only they don't. Yeah, not really. When I asked about a baked potato, I was met with blank stares. Fine. That's fine.

Anyway, I decided to make the best of it and get a burger and potato wedges. They have this "dress your own" principle in place there, which I rather enjoy. My burger goes like this: mayo, brown mustard, ketchup, lettuce, single slice of tomato, single ring of purple onion, and about five pounds of pickle slices. They even have that ever-so-delicious/revolting liquid cheese dispenser. So, I got one little container of liquid cheese for my fries. Then, as I was debating whether it was enough, it occurred to me to use the pico de gallo on the toppings bar to make a half-assed queso with the liquid cheese. My friends, I stand here today to tell you that I have had better queso, but not made from accoutrements on a toppings bar.

So, it came out quite good. I was pleased, in general. Now, here's the conundrum: I would like to make more toppings-bar queso some day in the future. And I know that it's a big no-no to just go into Fuddrucker's, not purchase anything, and fix myself a little plastic container of queso. What if, the next time I went in to get lunch, I just made an extra container of queso and kept it in my fridge? Does that violate the ethics of condiment offerings?

Here's another--the place near my office that has good fries doesn't have ketchup. I did once (gulp) just walk into McDonald's and grab some ketchup to eat with the fries purchased elsewhere. I still feel guilty about this. But what if I grabbed a handful of packets the next time I got some McDonald's (far too frequent), knowing I wasn't going to use them for that meal? I just don't know. I mean, I wouldn't walk into a regular restaurant, grab a glass of water, drink it, and walk out. Where do I draw the line?

More Music

Recently, I created a new station on Pandora radio (I feel like I talk about this every other post) based on the Pet Shop Boys. I came to like them after I saw them in concert in Detroit in...2006? That seems about right. So I am definitely a fan-come-lately. The concert was outstanding, even for someone like me, who wasn't familiar with any of their music. The big finale, though, was their mix of "Where the Streets Have No Names/Can't Take My Eyes Off of You." Truly fantastic. And I think that cover at left shows how fantastically weird they are otherwise.

Oh, right, the Pandora station. Well, in addition to this, it also plays tons of Depeche Mode and other, weird New Wave. Some pleasant surprises in the category of bleepy, bloopy, dancy music: Basement Jaxx and the Scissor Sisters. I am a fan of the Scissor Sisters in general (although my lack of knowledge as to whether to include the definite article in front of their name probably shows how bad a fan I am), but I become particularly delighted when hearing their songs outside of the context of my iPod. It makes me feel like they are probably not counting on my lukewarm support to make their livings. Thank God. Basement Jaxx are new to me, and I really like them. Perhaps some downloading is on the way.

In other news, I helped my ex-Darlin' move over the weekend and I feel like every muscle in my body is sore. This has renewed my dedication to giving things away to charity every month. I not only helped him move, but I also helped him pack. Those of you who have moved lately probably know that it's the worst thing ever. There's just so much stuff. Every time you think you've reached the end, you realize that you haven't (a) cleaned out the hall closet, (b) cleaned out the refrigerator, (c) taken down the curtains and curtain rods, or (d) all of the above. And he has things that are still in boxes since moving to Virginia from Michigan two years ago, and he probably moved things here from Michigan that he packed up in St. Louis three years before that. It's just all so much.

So, he's moving from a one bedroom into a studio, which means some downsizing. We have already made several runs to Goodwill and will probably make several more. Currently, he's struggling with the dilemma: should I just get rid of everything that doesn't fit into the storage available to me in my new place, or should I construct something to hold all of the stuff that doesn't fit? I think he's leaning toward constructing; I'm leaning toward PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST GET RID OF IT BECAUSE I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU IF I MOVE THIS STUFF AGAIN IN TWO YEARS. The end.

The World Has Had Enough of Silly Love Songs

Or is the world not enough? No matter.

This, my friend, is a placeholder post. I have a link to my blog here in my favorites and I just skipped over it completely every day for five months. Now I am trying to get in the habit of clicking on the link again. And, after clicking, of posting something, inane though it may be.

I have been all about making lists lately--lists of Christmas presents to buy, chores to do, groceries I need, things I want to do to my apartment, etc. This afternoon will probably see me making a list of things I have to spend a lot of money on in the coming months.

Oh, what the heck. Here it is:

1. wedding gift for friends in October
2. Christmas presents for what seems like everyone I have ever met
3. trip home -- while this doesn't actually cost me that much money (maybe $150 in gas) (OK, that is a lot of money to me), it does mean I won't be working at retail job for two different weekends, which will cut down the size of my paycheck
4. trip to Boston in February

That list seems awfully short. Why am I so stressed about money? Weird. I'm sure there's more stuff that belongs on there. I will revisit it later.

So, yeah, nothing new. Just being stressed out about money and time.

Hey, speaking of nothing related! I went to a meeting yesterday where I got a time-sensitive visitor's pass (like the ones pictured here). I stuck it to my monitor at my desk so I could see if it changed color as obviously as they allege. Verdict--not quite as glaring as I would hope, but I suppose if my job were to check everyone's badge and make sure it wasn't covered in purple lines, it would do the trick.

What's that? This was a boring post. Yes, yes it was. I can't be perfect every time out. I'm not Ozzie Osbourne.

Save the Drama for Your Wife and Kids.

So, apparently some people around me at work are engaged in a pitched battle that is invisible to the naked eye. One of these people, who seems to believe that we are "friends," keeps taking shots at the other in my presence: asking about whether that person is doing their job properly and whether they're up to the task of supervising the people under them. Honestly, I have no idea and being asked makes me uncomfortable. I can't really figure out what the point is, as I have no power here and no one would benefit from my loyalty. I can only assume that some sort of power play is in the works and when it goes down, the asker intends to have me on their side. News flash--I'm here because I like my job and I have bills to pay. I am not interested in power plays and I'm certainly not on the side of someone who goes out of their way to take digs at their co-workers. I am interested in getting my paycheck on time, producing the things expected of me, and being able to go on vacation from time to time. That is all. Generally, I don't care. Do not care. Don't get me caught up in your foolishness.

In more news...recently, one of my friends, who we'll call Abigail, told me that another friend, who we'll call Zoë, reported that a third friend, who we'll call Peter, was talking about Abigail. Hold on, let's review: Zoë told Abigail that Peter was talking about Abigail. Clear? OK. I hope I can keep these names right. Anyway, the three work together and are friendly. I understand, though, that sometimes your co-workers tick you off and you have to vent to someone. So, OK--Peter tells Zoë that Abigail didn't do something right at work? Or that she is driving him crazy? Cool. Why would Zoë ever tell Abigail that? Abigial seems to be of the impression that Zoë likes to create drama in people's lives, which is probably true.

I wonder, though, what good Zoë thought would come from her telling Abigail about it. If it was something personal that Peter said about her, then (were I in that position) I would have spoken up and defended Abigail, because she's my friend. And I probably wouldn't have told her unless it was really serious. Because only hurt feelings can arise from this, and it will only cause tension in Abigail and Peter's relationship. Regardless of what was said, what good could have come from this? They still have to work together. What makes this more suspect is that Zoë won't tell Abigail what Peter said, only that he was talking about her. This whole thing smacks of high school and makes me a little angry at Zoë and a little sad for Abigail. As far as Peter is concerned, he's not the type to say actual negative things about one of his friends or co-workers to another co-worker. Maybe venting, but not a snide personal remark. And, frankly, definitely not to Zoë.

Oh, and why Dwight? Because all of this reminds me of his attempts to be disloyal to Michael. And remember the alliance with Jim? Yeah.

A Little of This, a Little of That

So, I know what you're thinking--"where have you been?" Or, "oh, I didn't even notice you hadn't posted in the past five months. I have other things going on in my life." You're rude, OK? Don't pretend to be all nice and then say things like that.

I threw a bridal shower for a friend of mine a couple of weeks ago and I'm so relieved it's over. My friend is...shall we say high-maintenance? Yes, that is a good way to put it. So I figured anything I did wouldn't be good enough and certainly wouldn't be what she would want, which is a posh blow-out at a fancy restaurant. My apartment is many things, but it is neither posh nor fancy. She was very appreciative and pleasant, though, so I think perhaps I should try to table some of my resentment over doing something I didn't really mind doing, for someone who actually appreciated it.

Was that a weirdly worded and weirdly wordy paragraph? Yes, I believe it was.

In other news, my friend Laura is getting married in December. It is the antithesis of the wedding the shower recipient is having. Whereas Bride A is going all out, Laura is planning to get her flowers from Sam's Club and just put them wherever. I think it's going to be fun. It'll certainly be like no wedding I've ever been to before. We're all going to make a dish to bring to her Dad's house for the wedding. The wedding, weather permitting, will be in his backyard.

I did my semi-monthly desk clean-off ritual yesterday and discovered about 3 loaves' worth of bread crumbs hidden under a stack of papers. I swear, if this office building is ever infiltrated by ants, my office will be the first that is overrun.

And, lastly but certainly foremost on my mind, my Darlin' and I have broken up. It happened in July and I'm still having a hard time with it. We were together for almost four years. And I was so sure we were set for life. It's kind of embarrassing to think about how easily I let myself ignore all the signs that he wasn't going to marry me. And he's started seeing someone else. I knew he would, eventually, but did it have to be a month after we broke up? Ugh.

Anyway, I've been trying to distract myself with some quality Etsy shopping today at work, but I have just been feeling sick about it all day. I was actually doing pretty well with it--we were still hanging out, grabbing dinner together sometimes, talking and exchanging e-mails, and now I'm starting to feel all that rejection and pain that I felt when it first happened. That's enough of this talk. This is hard.