How old are you? Seriously!

Working in an office environment can have its ups and downs. I love my job. It's perfect for me. I'm so grateful for it.

But what is it about the office that turns 60-year-olds into 14-year-olds? Let me be more specific...dramatic, I-just-realized-that-I-have-all-these-feelings-about-things, I-don't-know-how-to-express-them-in-a-mature-fashion-yet, GET OFF MY BACK, 14-year-olds.

Yes, offices are filled with these types of women. I can honestly say that I haven't run into any men that act like this.

I'm 25 and every single day I feel like I have more control over my actions and words than my co-workers that have been in the office for 10+ years.

Maybe that's why they've all gone crazy!

Hmmmmm...

Anyway, if it's your job to do something and you decide to have a fit one day and then proceed to stop doing that certain job, then I have lost all respect for you.

***

Here ends my rant about this past week at work.

GRRRR!

I feel better now.

Wimpy Kid Mania

On Saturday I took my lovely little niece, Caitlyn, to Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules. It was really good. Very funny - for both adults and children.

Short review: Greg Heffley (Zachary Gordon) returns to middle school a year older - 7th grade. This time the movie focuses less on school and more on family with Greg's older brother/tormentor Rodrick (Devon Bostick) as part of the main plot. Their mother (Rachael Harris) bribes the boys with "Mom Bucks" in exchange for brother bonding. The movie soars with undeniable funny family feuding, and the loyal best friend Rowley (Robert Capron) steals a few scenes with his endearing self. Also stars Steve Zahn as Frank Heffley.

Rating: 3 1/2 out of 5 stars.

I asked my niece if she liked the first Diary or this one better, and she replied: "This one."

Now I have to tell you about my experience while waiting in line to get popcorn before the movie. We arrived about 25 minutes before the movie started to give us enough time to go to the bathroom, get concessions, and find a good seat. Well, as Caitlyn and I headed to get popcorn, this little girl (about 6) raced in front of us, turned the corner to the concessions stand, and went straight up to the counter.

I noticed right away that she "cut" in line. The people (a high schooler with what looked like her younger sister), now behind her, also noticed but didn't say anything. Caitlyn and I stood in our respective spots in line. About 10 seconds later, the little 6-year-old deviant's father and brother walked up to the stand. The dad asked for five popcorns and two large sodas. The register dude said, "That comes to $40.37."

The dad was outraged at the cost. Meanwhile, Caitlyn asked what time it was. I said I didn't know, but not to worry, because we have a lot of time before the movie starts.

The father then said, "What if I get 3 popcorns and four large sodas?" The poor guy behind the counter told him that the price would still be 40 some bucks. Still outraged the dad said that was too much money. Um, yeah! CAN'T YOU READ THE PRICES IN FRONT OF YOU? Jeez.

I bent down to Caitlyn and said, "See that little girl." Caitlyn nodded. "If she wouldn't have cut in line, we would be sitting in theater by now." Caitlyn nodded again with an extra eye roll. I looked to my right and saw that the other line for concessions was moving at a regular pace. Ugh, I couldn't switch lines now, we were so close! So I stayed in my line with an annoyed look on my face.

Back to the father: Finally he decided on a large popcorn combo and another soda. The register guy asked him what kind of soda he wanted. And ya' know what? The father didn't know. He asked his two kids what they wanted...they didn't know either. So they THOUGHT about it for awhile.

Ohmigosh! I was starting to lose it. I was seriously going to throw some punches soon. Caitlyn looked at me again and asked what time it was. I told her again that we still have lots of time. I honestly had no idea what time it was, but I didn't want to worry Caitlyn that we might be late for our movie, because of some indecisive/unprepared parent. People in line behind me were also getting annoyed, shuffling their feet and rubbing their foreheads.

After they paid, the line moved fast, since everyone had plenty of time to decide on what they wanted. It's really a no-brainer...this theater concession stuff. Pretty much everyone I hear in line knows what they want before they get there. It's not like people are deciding on a five-course meal here.

When it was my turn to order I simply said, "One large popcorn with butter. That's it." Wow, that took me less than a minute to order, pay, and receive my food.

I like people. I do. But when some people pull a "stunt" like this, I get really annoyed. Quietly annoyed. I would never throw punches...haha, I wouldn't ever even say anything. I'm too scared to do something reckless like that.

Anyway, after the movie was done, Caitlyn and I walked to my car, and Caitlyn said, "Remember that girl who cut in line?"
I said, "Yeah."
"Well," Caitlyn said, "We would've gotten our popcorn a lot faster if she didn't cut."

Yep.

Confirm Your Address

Why is it that when you enter information into a form on a web page to win a contest there is always that line that says: Confirm e-mail address. So just by typing in my email twice...it's a confirmation?

Same with passwords. What's magical about entering the password again? I don't get it. Frankly, I find it a little annoying when I have to type in the same exact information consecutively on a web page.

I would rather have a confirmation e-mail sent to my address where, then, I can confirm that I'm entering to win a pink punching bag on fitness.com.

If I win that pink punching bag, the first thing I'm going to do is punch out my frustration about this ridiculous e-mail and password confirmation hoopla. Sheesh, I tell ya.

What's the Deal with Meteorologists?

I like watching the news. I like watching the weather even more, because I'm interested in knowing what the temperature is going to be in the morning, at noon, and night. I love the 7-day forecast. It's my favorite part.

But what's the deal with meteorologists? Just tell me the weather. Seriously, all I need is a screen with numbers in Fahrenheit and pictures of clouds. I don't want you to explain what fog is or a bunch of other fast-talking information you feel is important. All I want is the weather.

Frankly, I don't even need a meteorologist. In my perfect world the meteorologist would stay behind the scenes. If they did come out and present the weather it would go something like this: "It's going to thunderstorm today until about 5:00 pm. Tomorrow is going to be sunny with a high of 75. Here's your 7-day forecast." Then they would walk away.

Instead, I get this..."Good Thursday afternoon. We have a low pressure system coming from the South. The national weather system says blahblahblah, but blahblahblah, I don't really get it. Hey, am I still talking? Ha, I think I have the best job in the world. I'm almost always wrong. We've had a week of record temperatures, but it might snow tomorrow. Then it will be pretty nice again next week. Something about some counties blahblahblah, and more counties that aren't even in our viewing area...let's talk about them for awhile. Oh, and in Texas the temperatures are in the blahboogerblah. But we live in Wisconsin. Maybe I should spend time actually talking about our state. I like to wave my arms and hands around to distract you viewers from seeing the 7-day forecast. Guess what? It took me three hours to figure out how to make that sun on the screen sparkle. Like my tie? It's festive. Now that I've wasted your time, back to you."

So annoying. I find myself zoning out when the weather comes on - like I'm in a trance. I have a theory that my local meteorologist is actually hypnotizing the viewers into thinking he's actually good at his job. My only defense is the mute button on the remote...if I can get to it in time.

The Cover Letter that I've Been Dying to Write

2010 was a year of disappointments for me career wise. My favorite was when I applied to a local newspaper and got rejected in two ways: email and snail mail. Thanks. On the flipside, at least they let me know that they found someone else.

I've been tempted to write a cover letter to really get across my argument of why a company should hire me as a writer (technical, creative, proofreader, whatever). So here it is, my no holds back cover letter that I will never send out because it would get rejected faster than Christina Aguilera ran off the football field.

Dear Reviewer:

I heard about your job opening, because I'm desperate for a job in a field where I spent four years of my life and money at a wonderful university. I would like to apply for this position, because I know I would do an outstanding job.

I graduated from Winona State University with a Bachelors Degree in English: Writing. If I would've known that all you employers were just interested in experience, then I would've gotten an Associates Degree in Administrative Assistance (because apparently I can't even get hired for that unless I have an degree in answering phones...no offense to secretaries, I'm sure the job is harder than it looks) and spent the other two years working on getting experience before my actual experience. Too bad I didn't know this. Be that as it may, I think my four years at Winona State gave me equal or even better of an experience in writing as a job would.

Furthermore, I've had more than eight years experience with computers. Although I don't have "job experience" entering data into a computer, I've spent half of my life working with multiple computer software including Microsoft Office. If a monkey can do it, so can I. While attending school I worked as a waitress where I assisted the guests with excellent customer service in person and over the phone. I'm a great people-person who can handle stressful situations with a smile and a great attitude. I know I would be an important asset to your company, because I'm a creative, energetic, and hard-working individual who is more than ready for a job in the career path I've studied all my life for. Attached is my resume. Don't get scared off by my multiple past jobs. I worked summers to help pay for my overpriced education.

I will contact your office within a week to confirm that you received my application. Don't sound so surprised, I do know how to dial a telephone.

Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,

Kinsey Bodenburg


Wow, that felt good. The sad part is, besides how desperate and rude I sound, half of my submissions don't even get looked at. A computer searches for certain words and picks out the application, or somebody just chooses candidates that they know. So really, I have a slim chance to get a good writing job. I've applied all over the U.S. and nothing back yet besides a few rejections. I guess time will tell.

Lawn Gnomes Camping in the Yard

There should be a Regulation Lawn Toy(s) Law. It may be "in style" to put out lawn gnomes in your garden here and there, or eye-pleasing to stick a wind-powered flower light generator in your yard, and it's even welcoming to hang a seasoned flag from your door, but when you cross that thin line of too much stuff in your yard, I have a problem.

And like the saying goes: too much is not always a good thing.

I drive back and forth to work everyday. You see, because I need to go to work and then come back home. Hence: back and forth. While I take this monotonous drive every morning and every night, I pass by this two-story home.

This home could be beautiful. Some little fixes to the siding and the roof would make this house look like a pleasant place to live. The problem is, though, that this place is a dump.

The owners have a hodge-podge of items scattered throughout their front lawn. More like junk than actually items. A run-down pop-up camper sits directly in the front of the house. Poles stick up randomly throughout the yard, a "fort" made out of boards and black and green, ripped tarp sits next to the camper, and lawn ornaments (if I can even call them ornaments) are scattered in no particular fashion throughout. There are boards laying everywhere with words painted on them...none of which say "For Sale" or "Free, please take it so my house doesn't look like a dump!"

If only there was a law that made the owners of this house clean up their place. It amazes me that they can come home every night and manage to navigate through their yard without stepping on a land-mine.

And here's what really bothers me: these people probably have NO problem with how their house looks to the public. I think people should be able to put anything (that is legal) in their BACKyard. The front yard, however, should have some regulations, because this house is an eye sore.

Now, I have always thought that lawn gnomes are pretty frickin' cute. And if there's one hiding in your garden watching over your plants, that's wonderful...because that gnome has a purpose.

On the other hand, if you have a tarp-tent and a gross, old camper sitting right next to each other in the middle of Winter...I have a serious issue with that. It's hard to believe that someone is residing in the holey tarp-tent, or windowless camper in January. No Purpose - get rid of it.

De'ja Favre??

Yes, again I find myself staring at a newspaper filled with Brett Favre's sad, old face. Excuse me, ma'am, what year is it? Ohh, thank you, 2010, not 2008. I feel like I'm reliving my summers over and over, since this story about Favre hasn't changed.

Seriously, he needs to retire and stay retired. He should not, I repeat, he should NOT, say he's going to retire, miss training camp (on purpose...I honestly think that's what he's doing) and then make a public announcement saying, "I'M BAAAAACK!!!"

Now, to clear up how I feel about Favre, (if I'm hard to read, already) I should tell you my history with him. Back when he was playing with the Packers, I loved him. I wanted to marry him, or at least have his babies, so my babies could grow up and play professional football and make their mother lots of money. Needless to say, he was like a god in Wisconsin. Then he said he was retiring (the first time, not to be confused with the second or the third), and I cried. I cried over a professional football player.

After he said he was returning, I was all happy again, but a little peeved. When the Packers didn't really have a place for him, I understood the position they were in. Then I grew to love Aaron Rodgers and now I want to have his babies. Brett Favre played for the Jets, and it didn't bother me, because well, the Packers and the Jets never played each other.

Then, Favre called it quits again, but later caught the eyes of the Purple People Eaters - the Vikings...ick. Excuse me while I throw up. And that's how Favre became a Viking. I was spitting angry!!!!!!! I almost cried again, for why would Brett do such a thing? In the name of FOOTBALL, why would Favre (a once beloved Packer, turn away from the team that gave him life, the team that made him great, and become a Viking? Why? Why?) So after I grieved for his ignorance to all of Wisconsin, I began to dislike Favre.

Sure, he played one helluva season with the Vikes, but stick a fork in him-he's done.

Well, for now at least.

But just think, the Packers are really gaining ground here. They had a pretty good season last year, and with Favre out of the picture for the Vikings, I'm expecting great things for Rodgers' and company.

And Brett or Aaron, if you're reading this, I guess...ya know...if you're up to it, that "baby offer" will never expire :)

Why Facebook, Why?

I haven't been on Facebook in awhile. The sparkle that was once in my eye for that special networking site has faded. I've been a Facebook member since high school, and I used to waste away my day looking at pictures, searching for new buttons that expressed who I am, and adding more information to an already jam-packed profile.

Now, as a 22 (almost 23 year old) the last thing I did was post pictures from this summer. I had to...you see, my newest nephew was born on the 17th, and I had the Facebook urge to show my friends and relatives his cute, little baby face. His name, if you would like to know is Alec Boyd Bodenburg. And I have a feeling I will love him just as much as I love Alec Baldwin.

The day he was born I traveled to the nearest computer to write in my status a congratulatory statement to my brother and his wife. My sister, Tyne, had already written one, and so had my brother (the father of Alec) - earlier in the morning after Alec was born. Then I realized that this information on my six hour old nephew had already gone viral!

Back in the day, when dinosaurs weren't able to chat with their prehistoric buddies via Facebook chat, since it was down (as it almost always is), they had to telephone people, send letters, walk to their neighbor's house to deliver news of any sort. Now, I can go on my laptop and type in a simple sentence and have hundreds of friends know instantly.

I'm not saying this is a bad thing, but it seems like not long ago, we were a more connected society. And through physical contact we achieved this.

Likewise, I can go on Facebook and find out in about ten minutes of browsing, who is pregnant, who is single, who got laid-off, and who got drunk the weekend before. I can see who got a new tattoo, who scored the highest in the racing game, who would "rather be enjoying the nice weather instead of working," and who is putting their child down for a nap and will be back to Facebook shortly. This social network is more of a private network seen socially by anyone who is "friends" with someone else.

But this isn't all bad. On the contrary, word spreads fast on Facebook and you can learn a lot about someone or something that is going on. I agree that Facebook is a nice way to massively spread information and share good news - like my nephew, Alec.

But I also think that maybe we should step back a bit, and not share anything and everything that happens to us the moment it happens. I don't want to know about the hair clog in your sink drain. I don't need to know that (Pet name here) peed all over the carpet, and I definitely don't want to know when you woke up, went to bed, or when you are eating.

If you would send out a public announcement about an engagement, wedding, baby arrival, and/or change of address to your friends and family, then it is okay to post that on Facebook.

If you call up your mother every time you take a bite out of your sandwich...then I would think twice about letting your Facebook friends know, because, honestly, we don't care.

(I've been subject to writing useless Facebook status updates in the past...I think we all have)

Shame On You!

High school sports. Ahhhh, those were the good ole days, right? Eh, I suppose.

Don't get me wrong, I love sports. I LOVE athletics! I really do, but sometimes the politics or something else got in the way of the game.

Let's take a look at my junior year of volleyball. That year, the coach's daughter was a freshman. She was a great athlete and so were a couple of her freshmen friends, but they weren't quite ready for the varsity level - or at least that's what the varsity team thought. Our coach felt different. Needless to say, the coach's daughter and her friends played varsity with us.

After we voiced our opinions on the matter of the younger girls' little experience, we had a "meeting" after one of our away games in our high school locker room. Here, our coach yelled at us. We took it in stride and some of the girls cried and some talked about it and some (me) just sat and took it all in. At one point, my friend Hayley accidentally knocked a table over and us girls giggled about it (because it was funny...and really late at night). Our coach thought we weren't taking the meeting seriously and stormed out. When she came back she yelled at us some more and said, "SHAME ON YOU!" This is an example of politics getting in the way of my love for volleyball.

I'm not saying that my coach was mean or anything, because she was a very good coach. At the time though, I just wanted to play the game without any drama.

Next came softball. Not so much politics in this sport, but other things. Like the year I was in a "slump" with another girl. Our coach moved us down in the batting order, instead of giving us a chance to hit. We never got to practice improving out hitting game during practice...so how were we supposed to get better? Magic? I don't think so. To top it off, my coach printed off an article on hitting slumps and handed them out before a game, where she announced that me and this other girl were both struggling and should really take this article seriously.

If Derek Jeter can go 0-a lot, then so can I. DJ and I had a slump going on at the same time. Except, he was still getting paid thousands and thousands of dollars and I was, well, wasn't.

Another softball moment. It was a windy day one game. I played center field. I had about three or four hits out to me one inning, and the wind would take the ball a lot further than expected. Naturally, because of this wind thing, I couldn't get to the ball in time. So my coach yells from the dugout, "KINSEY! CATCH THE BALL!!!"

I thought to myself, you come out here and try and catch the ball. It's not as easy as it looks. I have a lot of field to cover on top of this frickin' wind blowing the ball every which way. Does it look like I'm trying not to catch the ball??.

So anyway, this post probably sounds like a rant, but I loved high school sports...really, I did. It was just those few moments (which as I look back on them, have made me a better player) that weren't about the game so much as about politics or just about winning.

To me, that's not what sports are all about. It's about love for the game, diving for a ball on the gym floor, getting an ACE and celebrating in the middle of the court, hitting a double, throwing out the runner at home, and (as weird as this sounds) getting hit by a pitch and running down the line to first base where the assistant coach would say, "Pain is temporary, Pride is forever."

Then I would think, yeah, but that really hurt.