Monthly Archives: May 2009

Leave no (wo)man behind

Last Saturday I witnessed something very disturbing in nature.

I watched a squirrel scurry out into the middle of the road where another squirrel was laying. Quite deadly, in fact. But recently dead. None of this half-deteriorated carnage that you often see when it comes to dead squirrels.

I slammed on my brakes. (Because, yes, I’m one of those drivers who slams on her breaks anytime a small animal crosses the road in front of her.)

What I saw next has haunted me all week: Live squirrel picked up dead squirrel and carried him off the road into the grassy area.

Aaaauuuuughhhhh! (Followed by a <beep> <beep>from behind telling me that the car behind me had better things to do than watch this squirrel reality show play out.)

At first I thought, well that is sad and kind of sweet? Maybe it was his brother or buddy or <sniff> mom (Bambi flashbacks. Oh dear.)

But then a more horrific thought occurred to me.

(Brace yourself.)

Maybe he is going to eat it.

Are squirrels cannibals? Do they typically take their dead brethren home for dinner? (In this case, probably brunch.) Has the nut economy sunk that low?

I still don’t have the answers to these life altering questions. But I’ve decided to embrace the thought that this squirrel was a little soldier. His motto: Leave no squirrel behind.

And that, dear readers, is the message I leave you with as you go off into this wild wilderness of a weekend.

Whether it’s your obnoxious child in a grocery store, your drunken friend at a party, your spouse who turns every weekend home improvement project into a home crime scene or your mother-in-law who thinks her nose belongs in your business, don’t abandon your fellow humans. Stick up for your peeps. Return to catch them when they fall down.

And above all else, take a moment to enjoy life this weekend. Just don’t slam on your brakes in the middle of a busy road when you do.

This public service announcement brought to you by Queen of Quirky and one weird little squirrel.

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The event in which I walk up to a table full of strangers and say, “Are you KC Bloggers?”

Eh, they looked like bloggers.

<snort.> What do bloggers look like?

Seriously though, I really enjoyed the opportunity to meet some of KC’s bloggers face-to-face. Who says Web geeks are not social?

And, I think we have already established that I’m not shy.

In other news, my post on Jon and Kate has created a little mini-buzz, both here and on Facebook. As a journalist it was drilled into me that if you don’t get any criticisms, you aren’t doing your job right! So I welcome the debate.

For those not on my Facebook page, one reader found the criticism of Kate was too much and that more emphasis needed to be on Jon for the alleged cheating.

Here’s what I had to say:

I wholeheartedly agree that cheating is bad, (I too was cheated on by my ex-husband.) BUT even in my own situation, I have to look at my own actions and say what would have led him down that path?

Additionally, there were other factors involved in my situation, but the point I’m getting at is that when someone cheats, there is often a good reason and if a partner treats another partner bad enough the relationship will get to that point.

I would do myself a dis-service by placing all blame on the other person and not working on myself to be better. Kate too has to take responsibility for her own actions in the relationship.

I think the reason people are being more critical of her is because she has been so mean to Jon on the show. We didn’t watch Jon cheat, so we haven’t seen that side of him.

Ok, so like four people commented on my thoughts on Jon and Kate and I called it a mini-buzz.  That makes me giggle at my own self-importance.

Anywho, you gotta work what you’ve got.  

 

 

 

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Yes. I went there.

I shouldn’t be left alone with my DVR for very long.

I just watched last night’s season premier of Jon & Kate Plus 8. 

Annnnnd for the 2 people who are still reading this….

It’s been interesting watching demise of their marriage play out. First on their show (Oh, come on. It’s not like we were super surprised that Jon would go elsewhere to find affection and attention after we saw how Kate treated him*.) and then in the tabloids.

But regardless of how self-promotional and media whorish they have been in the past, divorce sucks. I can’t imagine if I’d had cameras in my face when I was going through my separation. Good gracious, I was a hot mess. (Picture: a bottle of wine in one hand, a pile of tissues on the couch next to me, both dogs in my lap and a constant stream of texts to anyone who would listen.) 

I also didn’t have eight kids to tote around. It was pretty easy to ship the dogs off to doggy day care in my time of crisis. 

Couple all that with paparazzi chasing you, tabloid rumors and a celebrity-like image to hold together….woah. I just had a Facebook profile and twitter account to hold together. 

But like many others out there, I watched the show. Ouch. I don’t know how much worse it can get. 

*Ok, and I know Kate has been really, really hard to watch on that show. As someone who has a critical side, I watch her and cringe. She is everything I don’t want to be. And she’s everything I turned into when my own marriage fell apart. A critical, loathing, hateful, nagging creature. And maybe I had very good reason to be all those things, but I hated myself for it.

No, we don’t know the whole story. No one does. They never will. Anyone who tells you they have the entire story of their divorce is full of it. Because trust me. There are 5 sides to every tale. But what we do know is that there is a family in pain, trying to fake it for national television. There are eight beautiful children who will hurt and then later will watch their pain unfold on old reruns of a reality TV show.  

And I just DVR’d it.

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Braggy Brag Brag

This is so lame, but I have to brag it: I ran eight miles yesterday.

It’s lame because I’m bragging. It’s lame because it was only eight miles (for serious distance runners, eight is the bottom of the barrel of long runs – the bare minimum  you need to scrape by and call it a “long run.” ) It’s lame because it was the highlight of my weekend.

I need a life.

I mean, yeah, I was in the news after witnessing a scaffolding accident and then reporting it on twitter. But that was Friday…oh so long ago.

And I did go to a kicking barbecue on Saturday afternoon and got to hang with some of the Lunch Bunch. But that took about zero effort, unless you count the trips back and forth to the fridge to fetch another beer.

And the boyfriend did take me to a very nice dinner on Sunday after we visited the parents. But I spent most of that dinner still reeling from the stress my parents were oozing over their pending move.

So, the fact that I got my  butt out of bed on Monday morning to run eight miles for no other reason than I may or may not run a marathon this fall and I kinda want to see how my body does in some long runs, kind of impressed me.  And it was the first time I’ve run that far since 2006. And it was a drizzly dreary morning.

I can get over myself about right. now.

Ok, but one more thing.

(And then I pinky swear, cross my heart and hope to die, Girl Scout promise that the next post on this blog will not be a bragolicious, self-righteous, look at me, I’m such a good runner, tale.)

The rotel cheese dip and bacon ranch pasta salad I made for the Barbecue at the boyfriends rocked the hizzouse.

That’s all.

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Happy Hour

This is the tale of Queen of Quirky and DD Girl who both had  time off work on a Friday. They enjoyed lunch, a store full of shoes and decided a cocktail was in order.

While they were sipping on tasty sangrias, they heard a thud and looked up to see a bucket of paint falling from scaffolding across the street.  They looked up higher and realized that the scaffolding itself had partially fallen. Two men held onto a window ledge while another hung onto the last rope holding up the partially fallen scaffoding.

Queen of Quirky called 911. DD Girl ordered another round of drinks.

Meanwhile, they watched 8 fire trucks and 1 EMT unit show up. Luckily, the two on the ledge, had the foresight to kick in a window and crawl in.

More than 30 minutes passed before the last man was pulled to safety.

Queen of Quirky was more than happy to give a few media interviews to the swarm of reporters that rushed to the scene. They were impressed with the use of twitter to report the story.

All in all, it was an unforgetable happy hour. Luckily, no one was more seriously hurt.

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I am special today

Or so says my coffee mug.

Why am I special?

Because at 7 a.m., when I arrived at work, I entered my alarm code and received the following message:

<Code not valid>

Craaaaaaaap.

Entered it again, carefully and deliberately pushing each key.

<Code not valid>

Pause. Waiting for the dreaded inevitable.

woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop woop

Should I back out of the doorway with my hands in the air? What is standard operating procedure here? Will it hurt if I get tazered? Who should I make my one phone call to?

After standing there dumbfounded, I decided that the K.C. SWAT team had far more important items to tend to. Or, they were running late.

Either way, I decided it was safe to proceed into the building. I dug out the number for our H.R. director, made the appropriate calls  and resolved the situation.

No tazer gun. No big dramatic arrest. Just a mug of coffee that reads, “You are special today.”

Because sometimes you need a little extra validation.

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Cheese please

Observation: when  no one’s watching, I regress to a no holds bar, all manners and rules are off the table slob. I feel the need to share this with you, why? Eh, it’s cheaper than therapy.

Case in point: I just polished off a huge piece of buttery blueberry lemon pound cake. About 3/4 through said breakfast, I thought to myself, why am I bothering with this fork? So I abandoned the fork. Then when all that was left were a few buttery crumbly bits, I was literally scraping them off the plate and licking them from my fingers, then re- picking up the smallest bits with my sticky finger tips to lick those off. Ew. (but yum.)

Speaking of yum, I have to share with you a recipe I tried last night. This was completely plagiarized from one of the work girls who says she snagged it off a can of enchilada sauce.

I had the pleasure of trying this recipe at a surprise baby shower fiesta we threw for preggo work girl.  I begged for the recipe. And I had been dreaming of it ever since. (I know. I have issues.)

I present: The Queen of Quirky Work Girls’ Cream Cheese Surprise! – We’re Throwing You a Baby Shower Fiesta – Chicken Enchiladas (or just Cream Cheese Chicken Enchiladas if you are lazy)

Buy: A pound of chicken, a block of cream cheese, an onion, a large can of green chili enchilada sauce, a small can of diced green chilli’s, a bag of flour tortillas and a package of shredded cheddar cheese.

Also buy: a bottle of Margarita mix with tequila in it. This recipe is way too easy to bother with fussy margaritas. Pour yourself a glass while preparing and enjoy. You’ll finish in time for your second glass while they cook. (Yes, I take tips via PayPal – e-mail me at queenofquirky at the g-mail)

Editor’s note: margaritas are for the cook, not for the baby shower fiesta recipient herself. Not that I’d judge any expecting mother for having a few sips of a delicious Margarita.

Turn your oven on to 350. (Be sure to remove any pans, toys, shoes or other items you may have stored in your oven since your last usage. Again, I don’t judge.)

Dice up the chicken into small cubes. Then, chop up the onion and throw it all in a pan with some olive oil and salt and pepper.

While that’s cooking, open up the cream cheese and cut it into cubes. Grab your can opener and open the can of chili’s. Once the chicken is done, turn the heat down to low and throw in the cream cheese and chili’s.

Mix it up really well, then fill your flour tortillas with the cheesey chicken mix. Roll them up and place them seam side down in a Pyrex.

Back to your can opener and open up the green chili enchilada sauce and pour that baby all over the tortillas. Oh yeah.

Then grab your package of shredded cheese, rip it open and dump almost all of it on top of the enchiladas.  (Reach inside and grab a few bites of what’s left  for yourself, allowing some to fall to the floor for the dog. Did you not read the first part of this post? I’m a pig.)

Put your enchiladas in the oven and bake for about 20 minutes, or until you can no longer watch another second of baseball on t.v. with your boyfriend.

Serve it up instantly (and grab that remote while he’s distracted with the cheesey goodness.) Oh, and if you were planning on taking these to a baby shower fiesta, you’re going to have to make another batch . But that’s ok. More margaritas while you cook, right?

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