Bathroom Thievery

Attention, everyone I work with, which is none of you, since I didn’t tell anyone at work I had a blog, so that I could write about work without fear of being dooced: lock up your purses. We have a thief in our midst. There is a sign in the women’s restroom that says: TO WHOEVER TOOK MY MUG ON WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 28TH: Would you please be so kind as to bring my mug back.

So many questions come to mind.

Who would possibly steal a mug that is sitting in a bathroom? And who takes a mug into a bathroom to begin with? And is the thief just supposed to return the mug to the bathroom since the victim gave no name or phone number or column location*? And why didn’t the sign maker put a question mark at the end of her request?

Personally, I think it is the mug owner’s fault. I remember seeing that mug sitting there practically all damn day. If it had been a twenty or maybe a new mascara (I am out of mine, y’all, but if you want to get me some more, I am partial to ginger cocoa from this place), I might have taken it myself. Or not. I wouldn’t want to risk pinkeye or something. Twenties can be quite dirty, you know.

*My building is so big that we use column numbers to get places. Like if I was telling somebody where to find me, I’d send them to 7D, column W3. Gotta love corporate America.

My Personality in a Nutshell

At work, my team just took the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator test. If you’re not familiar with it, this test gives you a four-letter code that describes your personality type. My company is having everyone take this test so we can all learn how best to work with each other and whatnot. I’m sure having this information will be useful and not at all a waste of everyone’s time (part of my personality is critical and skeptical—seriously).

The test indicated that I am an ISFJ, meaning I am Introverted, Sensing, Feeling, and Judging. I’m not going to go into detail on what all that means. You all know how to google. However, below is what the results said my personality is like. I’m not sure I agree with all of it (my commentary is included for your reading pleasure).

ISFJs are typically dependable and helpful to others, often behind the scenes (though I would prefer to get credit for this sort of thing). They accept responsibility beyond the call of duty (define “beyond the call of duty”) and follow through until their work is completed. They notice what needs to be done to help people, and they do so quietly.

They focus on seeing the facts clearly and accurately, especially those related to people. Facts are also important to ISFJs in making practical decisions (actually, I tend to avoid making practical decisions altogether). They are sympathetic, tactful, and supportive of others in need. They often notice and do little things that help others feel good and also get the job done.

ISFJs tend to act soundly and sensibly. However, in a crisis it is difficult for them to remain calm and composed (how would they know? I’ve never been in a real crisis). They find it hard to hide their distress (yes, true, I am an open book) and may worry until the situation is resolved.

Usually ISFJs are thorough, painstaking, and patient with particulars and procedures (ew, yuck, no way). They rely on their past experiences for guidance. They come across as consistent, kind, and moderate.

ISFJs are likely to be most satisfied in a work environment that values responsibility, organization, accuracy (I am a big fan of accuracy), and people. People can count on them to notice what needs to be done for others and to follow through in a timely matter.

So...does that sound like me? I’m not completely convinced.

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

Three words (or five, depending on how you view hyphens): Sing-a-long Mary Poppins.

Oh yes. It is coming to Kansas City.

Friday, December 14. 6:30pm. Union Station. The Regnier Extreme Screen (yes, those Regniers).

This is an open invitation for all you Kansas City people to come and sing your little hearts out. I know you know the words. I will be there. Will you?

Team Boston

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day, and that means that this is the time of year when our friends start coming to town in droves. Except no droves yet. Just Paul. So Andrew and I have been hanging out with Paul because we like him. Last night we went to a bar in Lenexa for Trivia Night.

I am not really a bar person. I hate cigarette smoke and too-loud music. I would rather not pay $2.75 a bottle for mediocre beer. I don’t care to see drunk old guys ogling the waitresses in their ultra-low-rise jeans. But we went to a bar because it was Trivia Night. And it turned out to be really fun.

I think we actually came in last place. In our defense, we managed to stay ahead of at least one other team for most of the game, then wagered all our points in the last round and ended up losing it all. We just weren’t the right age for this particular trivia. The questions were largely based on music, movies, and TV (with a few sports questions thrown in for good measure). If we were ten years older, we might have stood a chance. But it wasn’t meant to be.

Our server wasn’t meant to be, either (You like that segue? This is the kind of high-quality writing you’re going to get.). She was terrible. She preferred to only speak to one of us at the table, then bolt away before another drink was ordered. Andrew seemed to be her customer of choice. Maybe she had a little thing for him. She spoke to me once, so maybe she had a little thing for me, too. But definitely not for Paul. I'm not sure she ever even saw him. Maybe he was wearing his invisibility cloak, Harry Potter style (Have I mentioned that I am a huge dork?).

So Trivia Night was fun. Next time we’ll kick some ass and take some names. Like, in ten years. And let’s not mention the Harry Potter reference ever again.

Getting to Know You

Hello, world. I'm Megan. But you know that. You already know me, because you are my friends and family. I'm 5' 8", with strawberry-blond hair and really bad eyesight. Yes. That is me.

Welcome to my blog. I've been wanting to start one of these things for awhile. My sister, Courtney, started a blog and like older sisters tend to do, she inspired me to start my own. Even though Courtney and I don't talk very often, I feel like I know what's going on with her since she started blogging. You know, I feel all connected and shit (Sorry, Mom and Dad, for the swearing. But if I'm going to write one of these blog things, I have to be me. I know you didn't raise me this way.).

(Blog... I don't care for that word. It reminds me of something one might cough up if one should get the flu. Yes, hello, strangers who might read this. I talk about phlegm.) (But enough with the parentheses already.)

Anyway...what was the point? Oh, yes. The point is, I started a blog (ew, there's that word again) because I have a lot of friends that live hundreds of miles away, and while we do talk once in a while, I thought that if I started writing about my life, people might feel more connected to me, like I do to Courtney, so I wrote the longest sentence known to mankind. And then I got all sentimental, blah blah blah. Ultimately my plan is to one day support my family with this website like she does. So pass on this link to anyone who cares and even those who don't care so much. I'm about to get this party started.