A wonderful discovery

As I was perusing through articles today, I ran across something that was completely fantastic! And because of it, I feel that I have discovered that people are like me all around the world - they have the same sense of humor, the laugh at people, they get drunk and do weird things, and basically rock.

The article, titled, "The Five Worst Hotel Rooms for Drunk People," goes through a short list of hotel rooms that basically spell disaster for any drunken idiot (a.k.a. me and/or most of my friends). And it made me laugh out loud numerous times. The kicker is that it is from a website for the hotel industry (hotelchatter.com), but it just doesn't care - the writers just make fun of anything and everything - like the things that most magazines would rave about, just because it's new or different or "all the rage." But Hotel Chatter rebels against the professional jargon and instead reports what's really going down. Including, I may add, all the shit that no one would ever admit...and they are hilarious.

My favorite part of the article comes after a photo of a clear (plastic?) chair at a hotel room in Paris, and the writer says, "We can see how a little tequila might make you think that sitting in this see-through chair totally naked and letting your friend take photos of you might seem like a really, really funny idea at the time. Trust us: it's not."

And that pretty much sums it up. Rockstars.

A name: the continuation

I received a package at work today from a company that wants us to use them. The label, cover sheet and letter all said "Dear Mary Schreibman..."

At least that makes my decision easier.

What's in a name?

I would say that, on average, 8 out of 10 of my e-mails begin with "Dear Marcie"...and it pisses me off to no end. I mean, seriously. They send the email to macie @_________, really, did you not get that you spelled my name Macie and then Marcie. It's like people cannot believe that my name could possibly be Macie - because that is like the store! Oh my god...can you imagine what would happen then???!!! "You mean Macie, like the store?" My response: "Yep. Just with an i-e at the end..." Their answer: "Oh, wow. I have NEVER heard that before!" My thoughts: Oh, really...I couldn't tell by your shriek of shock, My words: "Oh, really? Awesome. So, what is your name...something super cool like Sarah or Melissa?" (Okay, so maybe I don't say that but you get the point).

So, emails are undoubtedly bad, but it's so much worse when people say it out loud. Work examples include a hand-written thank you note addressed to the proper name on the envelope, and inside above the three paragraphs explaining how awesome I am and how great it was to meet me, sits, "Dear Marcie," It just ruins the entire note. Or, and this is my personal favorite, in my work birthday card from my coworkers...two (count them, TWO!) Marcies. Really? Our office has 15 employees...really? You can't learn 15 names of people you sit less than 20 feet from at the longest point.

Oh, and another thing: A notice to all you spell check systems out there...Macie and Schreibman are real words, spelled correctly. So deal with it. And, a notice to all you key chain vendors out there: it would be nice to see Macie on just one California license plate key chain or one light-up Vegas dice. It would be nice.

BUStin' a move

Aside from Kermit the Frog, I have very few arch nemeses. This past Friday, however, I have come across one more: the bus system. To preface, I have a very poor sense of direction...I can literally walk out of a store in the mall and walk the same way I had just come from for quite a while until I realize I was just there. It's that bad.

Anyway, on Friday I woke up early so my co-worker could take me into work because I was going to meet up with my cousins, friends, boyfriend, etc. at the Giants game. After a long day at work anxiously awaiting the game, it was finally 5:30 and time to go. My co-worker, again, took me to Civic Center and unleashed me to take public transportation the rest of the way. In a conversation with a very city-savvy employee before I left, I was also told that I could take the #49 bus to a spot near AT&T Park...so, against my better judgement (because taking a bus that I haven't taken before scares me), that is what I did.

As I sat on the bus, things got a little weird. I sat through the entire Mission district, which I do not like and sat next to a gentleman holding a guitar and wearing no shirt...needless to say, it was an unpleasant experience. After about 15 minutes, I felt that I was going in the wrong direction, so I asked the bus driver if we were headed toward AT&T Park. The conversation went like this:

Me: Are we going to AT&T Park? Or anywhere near it? Like can I walk there from somewhere you stop?

Driver: Yes.

Me: OK. Awesome...cause it sort of seems like we are going away from where I need to be.

Driver: No, it's good.

Me: OK.

So, maybe I should have said a little more. Or maybe I should have never gotten on the bus at all. But, hey...you live and you learn right.

30 minutes later I find myself at the Bart station like 5 minutes from my house (across town from where I want to be, by the way). So, (like any adult would do) I start to cry. And not just like one glistening tear down my cheek - I am talking a full-on cry. After Eric talks me into not crying all night, I hop onto Bart and jump in a cab...problem solved in 20 minutes flat. (So, the moral of the story may be that San Francisco is awesome and you can get anywhere really fast, but I'm not that positive of a person).

OK, so I guess I overreacted a bit. I met up with Eric, drank a beer very fast and was at the game 5 minutes after the first pitch. Still, I hate the bus system. And until I take the time to learn the routes, I will still blame them.