Raw Fish

So Austin gets struck every once in awhile with these weird hunger pangs for Sushi.  Weirdo.  I mean, come on.  Besides the fact that the stuff is awful, we pretty much couldn't be farther from any body of water worth eating whatever you catch out of it.  Unless you LIKE Clinton Lake tuna...

Anyway, when he gets these pangs, normally, we visit a Chinese Buffet in Larry that also serves Sushi so we can both satisfy our appetite.  We've been there at least 5 times in the past month. But that's beside the point.  This blog is about me.  Here's the real story:

Every time Austin gets Sushi, I have this weird desire to try it - just in case it wasn't as bad as last time.  It always is but I still always want to try it.  He'll see me eye-balling his plate and say, "Are you surrre?" like I'm some dumb kid who knows it's hot but keeps grabbing the stupid burner anyway.  He's right.  Inevitably, I try it.  And inevitably, I hate it.

Here's the problem: I actually CRAVE the crap.  Have you ever craved something you hate?  What's up with that?  Last week, I even got super sick off the stuff but still...here I sit...craving Sushi.  It's so weird and I hate it.  I have this theory that my body refuses to believe that something so minuscule as raw fish wrapped in rice can master it.  I mean, I love brussel sprouts, spinach, cabbage, liver and onions, and most things that would make others spend their night in the latrine.

"You cannot defeat me!" -My body

The problem with that theory is that I don't have the desire to overcome my hate for the tomato.  Those things can just stay as far away from my mouth as possible, thank you very much.

Austin and Marshall both think I'm some sort of Sushi masochist in desperate need of help.  The non-sexual type. They think I enjoy the fact that my gag reflex is activated every time I put some of that seaweed wrapped nasty in my mouth.  Enjoy the gag reflex?  What am I, a model?

Though that would explain why I dated some of those guys as long as I did...

FML

For those of you who don't know, yours truly is currently employed with American Family Insurance [pause inserted here because I know you're singing the jingle].  I actually work for a District Manager who is over a good chunk of Agents in the KC Area.  So, if you live in KC, have insurance with American Family, and have a complaint about your Agent, you could call me.  And I'll tell you to call State Farm.

There's actually a whole lot of fun going on here at American Family...for everyone else.  I recently scheduled a week long trip to Cancun for my boss and 6 of our Agents, along with the District Manager, District Manager Assistant and 5 agents all from another District.  Now, maybe you caught that and maybe you didn't.  That's right, I said District Manager Assistant from another District. "But wait. Aren't you a District Manager Assistant, Mandy."

Yes. Yes I am.

For some reason, I didn't get to go on this week long, paid vacation to Cancun.  Why?  I've narrowed it down to 4 reasons:

1. My District Manager doesn't like me as much as hers likes her.
2. My District Manager fell asleep in his office the day he was supposed to ask me to come.
3. My District Manager was afraid I would let it slip to his wife just how much he falls asleep in his office.
4. My District Manager found out I spend 85% of my day emailing Marshall about how he's sleeping in his office AGAIN.
5. No one wanted to see my pasty white skin in a 2 piece.

Personally, I bet it was #4.

-Mandy-


PS - Told you my life is boring now.

For Maggie

I was shocked to find out today that people still venture over here in search of some sort of life-affirming post by yours truly. Apparently, these people miss me so much, that they come over just to read my last post, hoping that, in some way, it will still speak to them in the here and now or I will magically show up and give them that hug they so desperately crave.

People, I'm going to say this as gently as I can: You need to know that I will never again be able to satisfy your deepest desires. I am married, for heaven's sake. Do you know what that does to a person? It turns them into the most sinfully boring person alive. There is absolutely NOTHING blog worthy going on in my life right now. Until Austin and I decide to move to Costa Rica, take hip-hop dance classes, jump off a bridge, or, God forbid, get pregnant, I have nothing to tell you. I mean come on, it should be obvious how un-noteworthy my life is by my constant Facebook updating. I'm even following the latest profile pic changing trend! Gross.

So, unless you really want to hear how I colored my hair for the first time ever out of some need for change, leave me be. I happen to enjoy stewing in my own boredom, thank you very much.

In the words of the great Dr. Perry Cox: “I suppose I could riff a list of things that I care as little about as [your need for my blogging]. Lemme see, uhh…. Low-carb diets. Michael Moore. The Republican National Convention. Kabbalah and all Kabbalah-related products. Hi-def TV, the Bush daughters, wireless hot spots, ‘The O.C.’, the U.N., recycling, getting Punk’d, Danny Gans, the Latin Grammys, the real Grammys. Jeff, that Wiggle who sleeps too darn much! The Yankees payroll, all the red states, all the blue states, every hybrid car, every talk show host! Everything on the planet, everything in the solar system, everything everything everything everything everything everything–eve–everything that exists — past, present and future, in all discovered and undiscovered dimensions. Oh! And Hugh Jackman.”

Sincerely,
Mandy