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NOVEMBER ARCHIVES 9:55 AM 11/8/2006 plankton's mad!!  these make my day. volunteer: excuse me miss, what's your address? me: uh, it's on my driver's license that i just handed you. volunteer: oh, ok, got it. so, last name cheng...what's your first name? me: uh, it's connie. that's on my license too. volunteer: oh, i see. and you, what's your name? lynn: lynn shimohara. here's my driver's license. volunteer: shima....shime....shimi...i can't find your last name on this list. connie: (peering over volunteer's shoulder) um, flip the page. you're not at the S-H-I-M-O's yet. volunteer: oh. right. ARGHH. there's nothing like dealing with complete idiots right before you vote to renew your confidence in your fellow americans. anyways, a short message to Nancy Pelosi and all of the Democrats in the House and Senate: please, please, please do not screw this up. you've gotten this far, and though i'm fairly certain a good number of you are just as shady as some of the republicans you've replaced, PLEASE try to resist the urge to engage in distasteful extramarital affairs or steal money. here is your chance to make a positive change, so don't waste it. anyways, i've had a busy past couple of days...rosa flew in from NYC on friday and we spent the entire weeking driving around LA and eating massive quantities of food. thankfully, this particular visit did not involve me backing my car into my driveway post or having to squish millions of ants pouring out the vents of a rented impala (thanks again, enterprise). nor did we have to duck out of a party early because of shady asians and their bags of ecstasy/coke lying around.  us at the walt disney concert hall. if you can't tell, we have the same chanel sunglasses on. isn't that sick? in other news...EY just released information on its annual holiday party. you know what this means... TIME TO FIND CONNIE A SUITABLE DATE. and hey, while we're at it, let's invent cold fusion and find the answer to world peace. since i swore last year i'd never go to a company party alone again (not that i care about hanging on a particular person's arm; it just sucks when everybody else is busy chatting it up with their dates and you're stuck trying to make friends with the bartender), the search is on for somebody who is willing to put on halfway decent clothes and hang out with me for four hours straight. i know, i know, it sounds excruciating (major props go out to johnny, ryan and jordan for making it through KPMG's ultra-formal parties in the past). anyways, it's at highlands this year, which is a bit teeny-bopper for my taste. but dinner is being catered by wolfgang puck and it's cocktail attire, so it can't be entirely cheesy. ok fine, it probably will turn out to be outrageously cheesy, but c'mon. good food. open bar. me dressed up. ok, the last one wasn't good incentive at all. OPEN BAR! anyway, i gotta get back to work, but i'll leave you all with one last picture. i'm not sure who the random people in back are. we look like a bunch of high schoolers here. except we're actually smiling for the cameras and nobody is smoking.  can't wait to chop off that hair.... work is kicking my ass. boy, it feels great. i would love to discuss the crappy specifics of my profession, but i would probably violate five different confidentiality agreements in doing so and i'm not ready to get fired yet. speaking of getting my ass kicked, some of my coworkers and i have started climbing the stairs in my building this week in order to prepare for the US Bank tower challenge next year. i'm not entirely sure how we're going to take on all 75 flights, considering we're only up to 10 flights a day now and my calves are killing me. here's a tip for you ladies out there: knee-length pencil skirts and 4" peep-toe BCBG heels are not really conducive to stair-climbing. next week we're up to 12 flights. i'm a bit concerned about the E&Y building only having forty-something stories - we have no idea how we're gonna properly train for all 1500 steps. but we'll worry about that once we actually work up to the forties. in other news, i'm finally going on vacation tomorrow. that's right kids, i'm taking monday AND tuesday off and flying to phoenix/scottsdale with my girls. i sent out an email to people at work telling them i was gonna be taking personal time off and received several concerned responses: "all you all right? is something the matter?" oh for heaven's sake people, i'm taking VACATION. now please stop staring at me like i'm gonna have a nervous breakdown. anyway, i'm looking forward to sitting by the pool, vegging in general, hiking around the mountains/desert (can you believe i just typed that? me neither!), eating good food, and of course, SHOPPING. we're staying at the biltmore, so it should be an awesome (albeit quick) experience. the best part is that the hotel room and flight are free, thanks to the billion points i accumulated while flying out to omaha every week last summer. i am currently in the midst of packing, and i've managed to shove four pairs of shoes in my bag so far. and please, spare me "you're such a girl, who the hell brings that much stuff on a two-day trip?" comments. I KNOW, I KNOW, I'M RETARDED, OKAY? I JUST LIKE TO CHANGE CLOTHES. A LOT. just remember, if we're on vacation one day and there is a random downpour or some surprise event that calls for semi-formal clothes, who's gonna be totally prepared? that's right - ME. and if our suitcases get lost, who's probably gonna shoot herself because she'll have lost half of her existing wardrobe? that's right - ME! so rosa sent me a gorgeous bouquet of red roses from empty vase on friday - they are quite possibly the prettiest bunch of flowers i've ever received. in fact, they are infinitely better than all of the birthday/anniversary/valentine's/please-forgive-me-i'm-a-dick flowers from past boyfriends/weirdos, COMBINED. thanks, darling - you can come visit anytime, as long as you keep sending me nice stuff. ;) i took a picture of it to post here but i got the background of my messy desk and it was so embarassingly disorganized that i couldn't bear to show everybody out there what a freakin' slob i am. ALL RIGHT fine, since you guys already know how messy i am, i guess it can't hurt. uh, in my defense, my desk isn't normally like this. it's worse.  beautiful, no? ignore the stacks of paper and calculator. and yes, that is a random plant in the corner of the desk sitting in a red dixie cup - a coworker made me babysit it for her while she went on vacation and ended up never taking it back. so now i dutifully water and talk to it every week (it's good for plants - remember photosynthesis? carbon dioxide and water in, oxygen out. photosystem I, photosystem II, blah blah blah). and i can't count the number of times i've accidentally knocked the dang cup over. my coworkers are so used to it that the guy next to me actually keeps a roll of paper towels sitting on his desk, ready for the next time i let out a yelp and start frantically mopping up water with a used starbucks napkin. i'm sure the partners wonder why my workpapers and files are always slightly wrinkly. stupid plant. stupid coworker. stupid connie. ok, back to packing. ugh. and working. update more when i get back from AZ. have a great week, everybody. 10:50 PM 11/19/2006 hey, kids. hope you all had a great weekend. i've had a fairly miserable one, filled with work, headaches, and random hot flashes (is it possible to hit menopause at 24?)....nevermind. before i launch into my typical update about...well, nothing important, really, i would like to add my two cents about the ucla student who got tasered in powell library last week. let me preface my opinion by pointing out two things: 1) i spent an UNGODLY amount of time in that very same computing lab, so i know all about the 11pm ID policy crap, and 2) i hated some of those campus security officers with a passion because they must have confiscated like, forty cups of my coffee in just one quarter alone. with that being said, i'm almost certain that this guy did something fairly stupid to justify the tasering. sure, maybe the cops could have dealt with the situation a little differently and found another way to drag the guy out the door without zapping him a whoppin' three times. but i don't think they would taser a random student without being seriously provoked in the first place. and did you hear the nonsense he was yelling about? if i were ever kicked out of powell for doing something stupid (for instance, trying to smuggle in girl scout cookies), i would take back the damn box of thin mints, calmly walk out the door without complaining, cram every stinking cookie into my mouth, and then walk back in quietly five minutes later. uh, not that i ever did that (i could only manage to get through half the box and then i had to throw the rest away). my point is, you don't accomplish anything by being a belligerent asshole (unless your name is Connie Cheng and you work at EY). i can't recall how many times i've sat on the front steps of powell, glumly sipping my starbucks in the cold and texting my friends inside with "stupid CSOs, why do they always catch ME?!?" i was pretty much at the top of the library sh*t list by the time i graduated. but did i ever get tasered? NO, because I KNEW WHEN TO GET MY ASS OUTTA THE LIBRARY. so really, i have very little sympathy for this kid - if you don't wanna get hurt, don't do anything stupid! all right, enough about that. it's PICTURE TIME!  me and a random assortment of relatives. this is from the night all of us cooked for my aunt and uncle (in the matching shirts). i was going to make a snide comment, but i won't, because hello, i'm related to these people. and i love 'em. here are some highlights from our 36-hour vacation in phoenix (these are just me and lynn's cruddy shots, keri's really good pictures should be up next week):  the red mustang convertible we rented. it took us a good 15 minutes to figure out how to get the top off.  me & keri eating. this place had the best guacamole ever.  more food - this is from bario cafe.  lynn, on our hike. this must have been at the bottom, when we still had enough energy to look happy and take pictures.  some of the BILLIONS of cacti we saw on our way up. 1,200 feet!  at the top of squaw peak. this is keri doing her best wonder woman impression.  me at the top, trying not to hyperventilate.  fifth avenue shops in old town scottsdale. which, in case you were wondering, is NOTHING like the fifth avenue in manhattan.  eating again. yum. i spent the remainder of the week frantically trying to catch up on work stuff. i guess the ucla/byu basketball game @ pauley pavilion thursday night didn't really help (btw, i had insanely good seats. if you watched the game on TV - though i'm not sure why you would - you might have seen me, eating a hot dog and doing the 8-clap over and over again). worked most of the weekend, except for friday night and sunday afternoon. oh yeah, i also saw the new bond movie, casino royale. it was GREAT. i only cried once. ok, maybe twice. the bond girl is supposed to be an accountant in the movie. oh yeah, now that's realistic. if i looked like her, i'd be a victoria's secret model, not a freakin' accountant. ok, i'm out. have a great week, everybody. time to bust out the elastic waistband pants for thanksgiving! 12:28 AM 11/24/2006 happy thanksgiving! i hope everybody had a fabulous one - just doing a quick update before the tryptophan kicks in. although judging by my overwhelming drowsiness, it may be a little too late... oh, i almost forgot to do my annual list of things i'm thankful for. which is really pointless now that i think about it, because it's pretty much the same every year. family, friends, a decent-paying job, our troops, i love you guys, blah blah blah, etc. ok, and now that the boring stuff is out of the way, here is my annual x-mas wish list! to be fulfilled by um....me, of course. by the way, who wants to get up with me at 5am tomorrow to shop!?! the first two cups of coffee are on me. 1. a cartier love bracelet in white gold.  2. a yves saint laurent bag.  3. a shiba inu. SO cute!  4. a bedat watch.  5. and last but not least, a new clk 55 amg.  and since none of you guys plan on winning the lottery anytime soon or feel like wasting half of your life savings on buying me ridiculously superficial and overpriced (but beautiful) trinkets, i guess i should come up with a more realistic list as well. man, i really gotta look into finding some richer friends. just kidding. 1. a dozen donuts. preferably chocolate bars, i like those. 2. ammo for my gun. i hate going to wal-mart! 3. a new pillow, since my sister stole the last one i bought. 4. black cashmere gloves. i always seem to lose a pair every year. 5. a decent recording of gershwin's "an american in paris." 6. actually, can somebody just clean out the trunk of my car or organize my closet? both are a mess. that would be the ultimate gift. so i crawled into bed early last night to catch up on my sleep, but then wayne called just to tell me the following: "uh, 15 minutes to get the top off the mustang you rented isn't so bad, considering how i've been trying for years to get your top off and still haven't succeeded yet." i almost laughed myself out of bed. later on, as we were discussing the possibility of me chopping off my hair sometime in the near future, i asked him if he would be upset if i cut it all off. his response: "what do i care what your hair looks like? i'd love you if you were bald." now, i know wayne's full of crap because our relationship for the past seven years has been based primarily on both of us saying completely retarded things to each other, but i thought the comment was very nice nevertheless. maybe one day i'll find myself a man who will say the things wayne says to me but actually mean it. :) speaking of finding myself a man, i'm still date-less for the EY holiday party on the 16th. granted, i haven't done a very good job of looking so far, because i was sort of hoping i could just sit around and wait for some guy dressed in a suit to fall into my lap. "wait, you mean i actually have to get out there and ask somebody!? jeez!" so this year i'm hoping for a guy who 1) isn't such a platonic friend that he starts blatantly hitting on coworkers, or 2) isn't so quiet that coworkers start wondering if maybe he's a deaf-mute, or 3) isn't so good looking that my coworkers start hitting on him. yeah, good luck to me. maybe i could borrow somebody's blow-up doll? johnny, hook a sister up. 1:25 PM 11/25/2006 first things first: friend: no, connie, you didn't! connie: oh, yes i did.  that's almost half a paycheck right there. i woke up at the butt crack of dawn yesterday to drive down to south coast and buy it. my sister can't believe i spent so much on "something that looks like a freakin' diaper bag." yeah, yeah. hater. anyways, i would just like to clarify a story that has resurfaced recently. i didn't want to write about this in detail when it initially happened, but apparently the facts have been wildly exaggerated and blown out of proportion. as such, i'm gonna clear things up once and for all. skip this section if you're one of the few people i've already told. otherwise, read ahead and stop asking me dumb questions already. as most of you already know, i spent the majority of last summer in omaha for work with a bunch of other EY people from all over the US. most of the people were fun and laid back, and it was always interesting to hang out with people from different parts of the country. i got heckled a lot because i was the only girl from LA. plus, i was also the youngest, next to the interns. bad combination. so one day, i'm eating lunch and get pulled into the following conversation with some of my coworkers (i've labeled people by their home offices for simplicity) cleveland: hey connie, it's my birthday tomorrow. you gonna come out with us or what? me: i don't know, i have a lot of work to do.... cleveland: girl, it's my birthday! work can wait! phoenix: what's the matter, princess? too busy organizing all the shoes in your closet to hang with the big boys? me: hey, leave my shoes out of this. i really do have a ton of work! denver: jesus, this whole time we thought girls from LA were supposed to be fun. fellas, i guess we were wrong. kansas city: BOOOORING. st. louis: yeah, BOOOORING. me: oh, all right, i'll go. what are you guys doing, anyways? cleveland: i dunno, maybe hit up a couple bars or the casinos. something low key. me: fine. count me in. cleveland: you PROMISE you'll come with us? you won't flake? me: of course i'm not gonna flake! dallas: then say you promise. me: what?! why? phoenix: look, if you're scared about partying with real men, just admit it. me: shut up. i'll go. dallas: you swear? me: i SWEAR!! jeez. the constant snickering in the background should have made me think twice, but whatever. fast forward to the next night. we decide to meet in front of the hotel around nine-ish and manage to fit everybody into two cars. for a brief moment, i wonder why i'm the only girl in the group, but i end up getting distracted when i realize we're pulling into a gas station to buy lots of beer. oookay, i guess we're not going to a bar. maybe we're heading to the casinos? the gas station cashier gives us a knowing grin and asks us if we need a bunch of ones. hey, waaaait a minute. the blackjack tables have a minimum five dollar bet, so why would we need ones? oh...sh*t. i guess we're not going gambling either. a side note: i really don't have a problem with strippers or strip clubs in general. i figure, the girls work hard for their money, so who am i to judge them or the men who occasionally enjoy them? my only issue is the fact that i'm going with coworkers. i mean, we only work for the most conservative of the big 4 firms. i'm not entirely sure how i can watch my male coworkers get all worked up by a bunch of naked chicks and then manage to sit through a serious meeting with them the next day without having bad mental images. but, since a promise is a promise, i've got no choice but to go through with it. we pull up to the place a few minutes later and pay the $20 cover to get in. i look over to see all of my coworkers practically salivating. since they all know it's my first time at a strip club, dollar bills start appearing out of nowhere on the stage right in front of me, which prompts the dancers to come over and shower me with a little extra attention. um, thanks guys. the girls are nice enough and most are decent looking so it's not a bad experience at all, though i'm starting to get a little bored. honestly, it all looks the same after a while. half an hour later it's lap dance time, so most of my coworkers disappear into the private rooms, leaving me and one other coworker behind. all of a sudden, a stripper walks up to me, straddles me and says, "hey, sugar. want a lap dance?" well, now why on earth would i pay money for a girl to grind up on me when i can go to any club and get it for free? so i manage a real half-assed, "oh, no thanks, i'm okay," and then the stripper goes, "all right, but the man over there just offered me fifty bucks to give you a dance in front of everybody. whaddya say?" ok, talk about being put on the spot. like i'm gonna deny a girl her money, right? i shoot a glance in the direction the stripper is pointing and see an overweight dude in his mid-fifties grinning at us. eww, great. so she starts dancing, and i realize the whole room is looking at us because for some stupid reason, there's no girl on the stage at that moment. luckily, most of my coworkers are still in their private rooms, which means there are less people around to witness my discomfort. the stripper starts unbuttoning my shirt, and i say a silent prayer of thanks that i have another tank top on under the shirt. as i'm starting to breathe a sigh of relief, she suddenly pushes the tank top up, all the way past my bra. i look over at my coworker sitting next to me and the poor guy's eyes are about to pop out of his head. i tell him to look the other way, but i don't think he's really listening. i glance down and say yet another prayer of thanks that i happen to be wearing a hot black bra and not a silly one with like, cartoon characters all over it. the stripper leans up into me and whispers, "you have really nice breasts," and i'm a bit flattered but mostly grossed out. so i go, "thanks. you do too." just when i think it can't get any worse, she pulls down my bra and starts tonguing me. (lynn: wait, wait, she licked you? where? connie: where ELSE, genius!?) by now i'm mortified AND irritated, because i'm not making a single penny from this stupid lap dance and the entire room is getting a decent glimpse of the goods. goods which, up until this point, only a handful of guys have ever had the privilege (ha!) of seeing. (somewhere, my first bf is reading this and thinking, "wait a minute, it took me three months to get to first base with this girl and then some random stripper gets her bra off in five minutes? wtf?") ten freakin' years later, the stripper finishes up the dance, pulls my bra back up, kisses me, and walks off. the random guys in the room applaud, and then i hear the voices of my coworkers behind me as i'm pulling my tank top back down: "HOLY SH*T, I CAN'T BELIEVE I MISSED THE BEGINNING OF THAT!" i ask them how much they saw, and the guy from phoenix goes, "ENOUGH TO SAY YOU ARE THE COOLEST GIRL I'VE EVER MET FROM LA. EVER!!" needless to say, i've never had to put up with any more accusations of being boring since then. my one small consolation that night was knowing that none of the guys were from LA - i was fairly certain the story wouldn't get back to my office. BOY, WAS I WRONG. hence, the reason for this post. now, i'm off to finish up my work. hope this clears up any confusion - don't hate me if you have nightmares tonight about me being traumatized by a stripper. :) later, everybody. 10:48 AM 11/29/2006 check out the frequent meaningless updating by yours truly - i don't think i've written this often since college. i guess that's what happens when i start looking for excuses NOT to work. by the way, i will pay somebody a hundred bucks to finish this stinkin' tax return for me. it's due jan 15th but we promised the client we'd get it done a month early. so far we have....nothing. excellent. i guess it is time to start pulling numbers outta my ass. can you believe my billing rate is $495/hr? i am SO not worth it. btw, we are up to fifteen flights a day for our stair-climb challenge. only 60 more to go. i'm thinking about collecting bets on who will be first person to collapse from a heart attack. i would put fifty bucks on myself, but that would be stupid and pointless since i'd be dead by the time i won. anyways, still no date yet for the x-mas party. i don't think you people really understand my predicament here. the event is less than three weeks away, and so far my best prospect is either 1) the crazy bum with 2 teeth who stands in front of the EY parking lot, or 2) the crazy bum with a shopping cart who stands next to the freeway entrance on 8th and francisco. call me crazy, but i'd rather be with a guy who owns a suit and won't steal all the cash in my purse just to finance his drug habit. how about you guys just send the below picture out to all of your single guy friends? wait...on second thought, i've had enough awkward set-ups to last me a lifetime - i'd probably be better off with bum #1 or 2.  all compliments about my superb Paint skills can be sent here. before i go, i'll leave you guys with a poem some guy wrote me a while ago - he sent it right after he woke me up at six in the morning to tell me how much he liked me. i never posted it before, mostly because i was grossed out and deleted the e-mail two seconds after forwarding it to my girlfriends (with the subject line of "HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM!"). but lynn, being the thoughtful friend she is, saved it for over a year and sent it back to me again yesterday just to make me laugh/cringe. sorry for the early call again, I just feel bad for being so sappy. you still make me happy, and glad to be alive. I guess we all need a reason to strive, and you should know that your mine. look you even got me trying to rhyme here's a tip for all you clueless men out there: don't send a mushy poem to a girl after two freakin' dates and five million unreturned calls, because you will seriously creep her out. and if for some bizarre reason you still feel compelled to express your feelings through poetry, please use proper grammar and at least try to be somewhat funny/clever/silly. if i were a guy and i had to write a poem in an attempt to get into a girl's pants, here's what i would say: roses are red, violets are blue, Salma Hayek is hot, and dear, so are you. you have a nice smile, and i think you are smart. i know we just met, but you've stolen my heart. i swear i won't cheat, i'll call every day. and when you are moody, I won't run away. i may not have money, and i'm sure not well-read. but all that i lack, i make up for, in bed. awww. i make myself want to cry. i mean, throw up. one last note - if any of you are interested, some of my coworkers and i are going paintballing on dec. 9th near magic mtn. i'm hoping i don't get stuck on the managers team again (consisting mostly of thirty-somethings who smoke regularly and can't run for more than 5 seconds straight without huffing and puffing). it makes for a very frustrating experience when we go up against the staff, who all have nice guns and healthy lungs and lots of paintballing experience. i think i'll just demote myself for a day so i can ditch the old smokers team this time around. i'm also going to find me a nice gun, because it's just wrong to get capped from a mile away when the crappy rental i'm using can barely reach ten feet. anyways, let me know if you wanna go - it should be a lot of fun (if anything, you get a chance to shoot me, which is probably pretty high on everybody's Top Ten Things To Do Before I Die list). all right? i'm out - have a great week, everybody.  thoughts/comments? i'm thinking it may be time to double my gun collection... | |||||||
Copyright 2006 Connie Cheng
