Mj the Destroyer

Emily Posts Says, “No You Crazy B”….

Have you ever noticed that a week right before you go on a trip or vacation, it is hella busy. Yeah that’s right, Hella busy. And not the good kind of busy, but like that crazy everything goes wrong kind of hella busy. Welcome to my week… 

With this in mind, I keep a pretty tight schedule. I like to stay busy, by staying busy I stay focused and am much more productive. While staying crazy busy and trying to be productive,  I have a fair amount of meetings that I attend. I am usually on time if not early for meetings. It is kind of the golden rule of etiquette; “be on time and others will be on time for you”.( There is also a ring of karma to it)…

Today of all days I agreed to take a meeting with a client that approached me. They were going to be in the Valley just for the day taking multiple meetings. I agreed to meet them at 3:30pm today, I had a small window of time, that needed to be filled with an unnecessary meeting —- because apparently I felt I was Wonder Woman at the time of coordinating the appointment.  Oh and they seemed to be so over booked when making the arrangements, it was as if I was helping them out in taking the late meeting. 

What do they do… They show up at 2:00pm.

Today at 2:00pm, I had a party going on with about 70 people in attendance. The party took an ugly turn which required for me to stick around. But hey, it was OK because I didn’t have anything until 3:30pm. 

During the party - the poor receptionist is trying her best to locate me. I finally check in on tablet, and realized I had several emails and voice mails from the front desk asking me to collect my visitors and meet with them. I unknowingly kept them waiting for about 35 minutes which bugged me - I felt so rude and unorganized. 

Once I finally greeted my very early guests- they were ready to get down to business… they made their apologizes for being early, and were ready to talk. I promptly informed them that I was not able to meet at the unscheduled time, and I would not be able to meet later today, but I would love to take their business card. 

They used every tactic in the book to try to keep me engaged in what they were presenting, and kept trying to tell me they could come back at a later time. I kindly took the card, gave my best generic smile, and told them I would email them.

While shaking their hands for what seemed like the fifth time, I felt time slow down and thought to myself… Why do I feel bad for them being an hour and a half early for a meeting they asked for? I have a meeting room of about 70 residents  who are getting drunk off wine and Andes Mints in the middle of the afternoon, with a giant puddle of water that needed to be mopped up, and ten other things to attend to just in the next room. I’m all ready having a crazy week, I don’t need to deal with these overly eager clients - and I realized that I was at the end of my rope for the week… I was stressed, crazy tired, and still hella busy. And I had one of those moments that you really only see in television shows. Where two people are engaged in a conversation, and then one turns into a glazed eye zombie and walks away mid-sentence with out an explication or reason - leaving the other involved in the scene dumbfounded and confused and a little crushed. 

As I walked away, glazed eyes - on the verge of becoming a true Zombie and seeking human flash to snack on - the interesting thought came into my mind: Did Emily Post ever break the rules she wrote for social order? Did she ever just screw with people and seat them next to people they would hate at a dinner party? Did she ever just bitch slap someone for not in RSVP-ing for a party and they just showed up anyway, unannounced? Rather than writing a thank you note, she writes on a Hello Kitty post-it, “I donated your crap of a gift to the homeless. They didn’t want it either.” 

Did Emily Post ever get so burn out, that she began to hate what she once loved? Or did she simply know how to manage her time better and give herself limitations - and know when to take a real vacation? 

2 more days, 2 more very long days…

No April Post…

Holy Crap! I have been busy. Once I started this Blog, I told myself I would make one post a month… I missed April. Honestly I don’t know how… I have been dating checks as if it has still been April and 2010. So here is a run down of what I have been up to…

• Wrote up a crazy employee for being insubordinate, she did not take it well
• Found a puppy 
• Gave the puppy away 
•  Not attended the Gym 
• Attended a family reunion
• Began Game of Thrones season two
• Discovered the movie Lady Hawk
• Saw Demetri Martin
• Said goodbye to Tedd 
• Ate at the Chuck Box twice
• Went to a wedding, with luffas hanging from the ceiling…
• and I have been working about 60 to 70 hour weeks for about two straight months… Thus the lack in blogging. 

I mentioned before I started this blog about a year ago, and it kind of turned into something I am sort of proud of. Granted I am the worst blogger in the sense of volume, but I am proud to have 30 followers! ( I know that isn’t very much, but I like to believe they enjoy my posts). And I have a small following outside of tumblr, which is kind of cool too…

So I am going to make a goal of going a little more public with Mj the Destroyer… make a few more posts a month, and cleaning up a few of the older posts. Wish me luck true followers! 

You are still thinking about the luffa wedding aren’t you? It is just lingering in the back of your mind…. 

Indie Girl Gots to Dance…

Growing up, I found myself not really belonging to a group. In high school, I was cool with the band nerds, art kids, some of the jocks ( did their homework), skaters, etc. I even managed to get invited to one of the graduation parties one of the popular guys were throwing. He personally invited me ( didn’t go). College was very similar. I was simply nice to people. Regardless of being cool with the different clicks, and being nice — I was awkward and weird. Naturally this lead me to weird music, clothing, cartoons, etc. I primarily blame my older brothers for this…          ( Thanks!) 

There is, and has been a many girls and boys just like me… they are the gypsies of the ugly and social order of high school and frankly society. They are indie. I am indie… 

Being “indie” has become oddly trendy. I recently went to a show, Of Montreal, in Tucson at a pretty small venue. Tickets cost $9 bucks. Indie shows such of this, brings out all the cute indie boys and girls from near and far. It is a sea of eye liner, crazy hair cuts, thick framed glasses… and polite boys and girls that want to dance. I love indie shows because of this! Everyone is cool with each other, they want to be there, and the respect the dance bubble. No one yells ” Free Bird”, no one throws thing at the band, and no one really drinks pasts their limit. 

This last show, was not puppies, cupcakes and helpful eyeliner tips. I saw an ugly storm of posers trying to be something they are clearly not. ( if you are an indie poser, puppies die…)

So this is what went down… First there were two guys that manged to get loaded before the first band even went on. They were hitting on these girls who where only 15 years old. When the first band did go on, they kept yelling out to the crowd for everyone to dance. Super annoying. Luckily, by the second band, they got lost or something and the 15 year old girls escaped… 

As the second band went on and played, the ASU sorority girls showed up with their meat head boy friends. They introduced themselves and acted like we were BFFs because we were standing by each other. ( Indie girls usually don’t connect with sorority girls, or maybe that’s just me. I want to punch them). They even had the nerve to confront this super nice girl standing behind me they told her,  ”stop  giving us the stink eye, whore”. Not cool! I honestly think her name was Bunny, no girl named bunny is really going to be a whore.  As OM went on they, the stupid bimbos, affectionately called out to Kevin Barnes, the lead singer, ” We love you Kevie B” Again Super Annoying!!!! Then the meat heads, told their girls that they were willing to throw elbows, to get them up front. The second or third song in, the meat heads delivered….

With the crowd being pushed and knocked around, the bimbos stooped to an even lower level and dumped their beers on the people in the very front. This caused the  people in the front to look back, drop their guard and loose out on their prime real estate. Some how the meat heads brought with them the worst of the worst. Two ass hats that thought they were the biggest fans in the world, which happened to be even more drunk that the guys previously mentioned. Literally they were going to pass out…   They kept yelling out how they have listened to these guys since 2006. Which isn’t saying much, since the last OM concert they attended was in 2006. A lot has changed. Not only that, but I have seen OM 8 times now. 8… 

At one point Kevin Barnes was doing this song that was so beautiful and intense, the crowd was still, all eyes were on him, the illustrations projected we perfectly coragraphed to what he was singing… These guys kept talking about how cool they were and how they were the ultimate fans, barf. Finally I spoke up, and told them, ” Shut up, and listen…” They did not, if anything this caused a world of pain for my as the show continued. They threw elbows at me all night. Stepped on me, pushed me, drunkenly leaned on me, etc. Others surrounding me, stepped in trying to help, but their was no escape. After the show, they disappeared… knowing full well they were going to see the suppressed wrath of indie boys who have bruised ribs whose skinny jeans are a little too tight. 

Overall the show was amazing, buts as I left I couldn’t help but noticed how many other indie boys and girls looked defeated that night. We had lost something that we had fought for since our adolescence. We discovered a world that so many others ignored, and now that we were rising to the top and claiming what was rightfully better than the social mediocrity that is mass produce… we were put back in our place. That night, so many of us were subject to the greed and ugly fear that consumes the pretty boys and girls at the popular table in the lunch room that worked for little and that were handed every opportunity.  My heart broke for Bunny and so many others that were pushed and kicked for no reason… 

Maybe Bunny and myself really are whores that give the stink eye, I doubt it… But the next Sorority girl I see at an indie show will be getting a beer thrown in her face. And I don’t even drink beer… 

Gods save the Queen…

I think I have shared this theory with very few of you… and frankly it is kind of a weird theory. Just heard me out -

I believe that people from England that come to live in America are a magnet for white trash. Again, heard me out… I am not just making this up… I have somewhat concrete proof. 

And really I have to clarify that English men that come to live in America are a magnet for white trash.  

Before I dive into this- I have to give you something to keep you reading…

A) I love Princess Kate, however I do believe that if Prince William came to live in the states for just a couple of years - he would have made Kim Kardashian his wife. 

B) My Step Mother-in-Law is from England. She moved to the states when she was 11.

C) I worked with an Executive Sous Chef that was from England for about three years. 

Ok these three facts alone give me a little credibility. Lets start with Fact C: Chef Nick. Chef Nick came from a well bred family, that happened to be very wealthy, and happen to hold a large presence within the wine industry within the states. Nick mother had a great passion for cooking - blah blah blah Nick was shipped off to boarding school, blah blah blah, poor little rich boy, Nick grew up to be a chef. Nick was incredible - made food look amazing! He was a huge snob, fairly good looking, had the whole English accent, he was cultured, and I giggled every time he said “Mum”.

Nick had one thing wrong with him. He had this wild and unnatural attraction to older women. Ok - some guys can pull off the whole going after Cougars, I don’t get it… but whatever.  But Nick had the ability to find the craziest go nuts women. To give you an idea- he was 24, had the potential talent to be one of the most influential chefs in the United States in five years easily. And he started to date a 40 year old, ex stripper (and ex stripper by like a year), who was divorced multiple times, loved rottweilers a little too much, who happened to have freakishly small hands, and had the life long dream to have her own cupcake shop one day. I made the mistake of hiring her to work in the restaurant that Nick and I worked at -and the nutty gem that she was made the description that I just gave seem normal…She ended up stealing from Nick, money, his rottweilers, and his heart. 

After all of this happened - rather than taking a break from 40 year old women, Nick found himself another soccer mom. Nick actually left his really good job at the restaurant to become a fry cook at a bar to win over his new love. She was 40, bartender for life( her college education couldn’t get her a job), smoked multiple cigars a day( so naturally she sounded like a man),  had six dogs - all of which slept in bed with her, and a really bad boob job. 

Nick will never be a great chef, no one will ever experience his culinary talent, and will always wake up next to a dog butt. This example alone founded my theory about people from England. And could have potentially made Statement A, and fact - thankfully Prince William never spent years of his adolescent life in the states.

Now Fact B: My Step Mother-in- Law, was from England and made me realize that not all people from England are magnets for white trash, because she is great. Men from England are the true WT magnets… and this was proven to me just this week. I am currently planning a 90th birthday party for a women from England. We had our second meeting this week, she introduced me to daughter-in -law. The first thing that the daughter-in-law said to me was, “This party is going to kick ass”. This triggered everything I suppressed about Nick. I stepped back and took a double take at the woman standing before me. She was dripping with gold and questionable diamonds, glitter tipped fake nails, dressed like she was 20 years younger, thick thick eye liner, and crazy blue eye shadow…

As we talked over the details the daughter-in-law began to tell me all of her favorite and oh so original party secrets. 

A) Pick A Theme - Purple ( COLORS ARE NOT A THEME!)

B) Give A Party Favor - M & M’s that go along with your theme, purple. And those M & M’s need to go in something - why not a wine glass that has something etched on them… oh and those wine glasses should also be purple. 

C) Have a Slogan - ” Cheers to 90 years” 

D) Signature Drink - Wine coolers

I honestly left that meeting, wondering why they even bothered asking for my help. If this story doesn’t prove my theory I don’t know what would. And why does a 90 year old woman need a kick ass party? What is kick ass about turning 90? It can be classy, fun, possibly depressing. When I think kick ass, I say bring in the keg of beer and the  really good cover band.  

I have all the love in the world for England. I would love to travel there one day. And really what do I know about party planning.

 I guess all those white trash beauties of the world deserve to find their prince charming…

Pop Tarts for Breakfast…

It is January. January is usually a time to reevaluate one’s diet and buy planners and to organize all the crap you are unwilling to throw away. It is a new start, a clean slate…

For me January is always so scary. I say this because I was born in January, and ever since I was a little girl I have felt that my birthday is cursed. I don’t say this to get attention or for anyone to feel pity towards me, or to receive a few more gifts…I say this because it is true. This is a secret that I share because I need to let the universe know that I see what it is doing and I am choosing not to deal with it right now!

Here is an example…

Heath Ledger died on my birthday. I loved Heath Ledger… he was my high school girl, he is so dreamy, I have a huge poster on my door kind of love… I was crushed! 

This year…

The company I worked for asked each department to cut 10% of their budget. This means lay offs, pay cuts, and tears. I also got into a really bad car accident - in which the only car I own will probably be totaled. Awesome…  

I realize the second example is much worse than the first… but honestly if I get into all the curses - I am going to come off crazy and whinny.

I swear to you every year it is something crazy, bizarre, and stressful.  My stress level has hit an all time high - I have been eating nothing but Pop Tarts. Pop Tarts for breakfast… Pop Tarts for lunch…  

Remember Your Troops…

There are only select few that know this story. So I am debating even telling it. However, I feel like it would be a dishonor to our troops that are being brought home from the Middle East this holiday season…

During my time in Culinary School the administrators were very supported of the troops in the War. The made care packages during the fourth of July, sent cards in September… Well during Christmas, the school wanted to do something extra special. The sent out fliers to notify all the class and instructors. It was going to be awesome. 

I along with the other cool culinary kids, we didn’t get the notice. As we left class one afternoon, there was a group of other students making sugar cookies. Naturally we joined in. Since the cool culinary kids, are actually not culinary driven but management driven ( meaning we took all of two basic culinary classes), we have no shame in slopping some frosting on a cookie and stuffing our face with the cookie. 

During our cookie binge a few of the instructors, asked us to put a little more thought into how we decorate them.  We proclaimed that weren’t culinary driven and that we were just stopping by. As I took my third pipping bag of colored frosting, to add yet another M to my monogrammed star cookie, I began to look around… something wasn’t adding up. No one was eating cookies. Everyone was taking great care in each cookie they frosted. I then looked at the giant banner hanging behind me, “Cookies for Our Troops”. I nudge one of my cool friends, motioned to the banner…

Her terrified eyes met mine- this was the special thing! And we were ruining it. We couldn’t give our troops our ugly cookies! And we couldn’t show them to the chef that was walking towards us. My friend picked up her cookies and mouthed the word ” run” - so that is what we did… we took our cookies and booked it! 

Ok so at this point we are scum. There would be at least four troops that would not be given cookies - But we didn’t get caught, so it would be a super culinary secret, that we would take to our graves. 

The next day in class, our instructor began the class with telling how the special troop cookie extravaganza was super successful, and started passing around a few photographs. The photographs were of two students running down the hall while trying to eat over sized sugar cookies. Literally you could see the cookies in hand…

I think by far it was one of my proudest moments in my life. And now every time I eat sugar cookies, I have a patriotic moment and remember the troops and how much they sacrificed for our country…