Sleeping My Way Up The Company Ladder

***This post is the second part of a 2 part story. So, do yourself a favor and if you haven’t already, click here to read the first part to catch up and then come back. Hurry!  

Okay, so where were we? Oh yes, I had just dramatically crawled out of a dirty canyon and desperately needed to be hooked up to life support.  However, nobody would take me to the hospital and I couldn’t drive because my legs were so tired they could not move from the gas to the brake pedals so instead I just went to the office. OH!!! I didn’t tell you, did I???? The boot camp is sponsored by the company I work for. So yeah, all this happened with and in front of MY CO-WORKERS!!!!!!! 

Calm down, calm down- that’s not the embarrassing part either.

Remember when I said I couldn’t sleep the night before because I was SO nervous about oversleeping? So I kept jerking awake all night? Well, that combined with the actual death-defying physical exertion back at the canyon left me deliriously exhausted.  All day at work, my head bobbed and I struggled to stay awake. 

A friend had invited me to a food and wine pairing that evening.  As the end of the work day approached, I knew- I just knew I wouldn’t be able to stay awake for the event without some kind of rest.  Did I have time to race home before the function and take a quick nap? I glanced at the clock: 5:02pm.  Rush hour.  By the time I sat in traffic, and got to my house, there would be no time for a nap. Rats. 

I could put my head on my desk for a few minutes, maybe nobody would notice? But what if they DID notice? That would be awkward….

I called my partner in crime, frantic, “Amy!! I’m sosososososos tired. Like more tired than I’ve ever been. I’m supposed to go to this wine pairing tonight. I just can’t do it. I can’t go without a rest. How awful would it be if I took a nap out in my car? Just a quick catnap? Or even under my desk?”

“Yeah, do it!” she encouraged. “Everybody’s leaving, just turn the lights off…nobody will know.”

I was positive that Amy’s response was going to be that I was nuts and something along the lines of a “Who DOES that?” speech. But when she gave me her blessing, I thought no further. I glanced toward my gym bag. It was now filled with my workout clothes and the 2 towels from my shower earlier. Perfect! I fluffed the bag up like a pillow, set my alarm for a half hour and shut the lights off.  Then, I crawled under my desk for a little afternoon snooze. 

Little did I know that while I was stowed away under my desk dreaming, this happened:

“Hey, Amy….we’re looking for the birthday decorations, do you know what happened to them? It’s Cory’s birthday and we want to decorate her desk!”

“Oh yeah- Try Tracy’s office, she always has stuff like that hanging around.”

Um. TIME OUT. (Everyone freezes like when Zack used to do that in Saved By the Bell. Tell me you know what I’m talking about??) 

During the time out, while everyone is motionless, I walk over to Amy and bitch slap her, reminding her that she can’t send the sweet new girl into my office because I’m SLEEPING.  And Amy’s like, “Oh yeah duh.”  And then the sweet new girl goes back to her desk and is none the wiser.

‘Cept that didn’t happen-  you wanna know why? No, not because Zack Morris “Time Out’s” don’t exist- because I WAS ASLEEP UNDER MY DESK and I couldn’t call a  time out!!!


New girl came into my office and was (rightfully!) taken aback by the image of a member of management curled under her desk in slumber.

She crept back to Amy’s office. “Uhh…Amy, she’s umm.. She’s sleeping.” She whispered.

“HAHAHA Oh my God–  I forgot!!!” Amy laughed.

Then, like the traitor she is, instead of keeping it under wraps, Amy slowly let the sleeping cat out of the bag and nudged some of my other coworkers (some meaning anyone who hadn’t left for the day) to come take a peek at Sleeping Beauty.

Of course, this was all unbeknownst to me… because my alarm hadn’t gone off yet.

At some point, I must have sensed someone present because my eyes popped open wide to the sight of my co-worker Ryan standing at my desk stifling laughter.

This jig was up.

And that is the day that all my co-workers caught me sleeping under my desk a la George Costanza.

For the next several days, anyone walking by my office would stick their head in and casually ask, “Hey, I’m kinda tired you have any room under there?” “Hey, Tracy – is it naptime?” “Hi, George…”

Employee of the year right here.  That’s what I’m sayin’.  I don’t think this is what anyone meant by “Sleeping your way up the company ladder”…but if it was, I’d be at the top!


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Photo Courtesy of Amy “And Amy….et tu, Brute???”


If you liked this post, you’ll love the book I’m in! Grab a copy of “I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone,” the follow up to the NYT Best-Seller!

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The Trail of Tears (Mostly Mine) : A Tale Of Boot Camp By Someone Who Shouldn’t Be Going to Boot Camps


The story I’m about to tell you is pretty embarrassing. For me, not you, of course.  Considering some of the pickles I’ve gotten myself in, it’s not that bad but for the average Joe, it’s moderately humiliating. So you wanna hear it, huh? Okay…(deep breath) here goes:

 Once upon a time (last Thursday) I decided to get my butt in gear, and kick up my workouts so I crawled out of bed at some crazy early hour and giddy up’ed.  Something you should know about me is, if there is one thing I hate doing more than working out, it’s getting up early. That probably makes me sound like a total sloth but I have just always been more of a night owl. It’s not like I’m always staying up watching TV and stuffing my face with Cheetohs – okay, sometimes Cheetohs are involved- but that’s not the point. The point is, I’m very productive into the wee hours, whether it’s writing or reading or doing laundry: I just function better at night!

So, the night before boot camp, I laid out all my workout clothes, packed a gym bag with my work clothes and shower gear and set my alarm for 6am.  Now, 6am might not sound that early to you but that’s usually when I’m deep in my REM sleep! I was so terrified of oversleeping or not hearing my alarm, that I woke up about eleventy million times in a panic, pressing the clock up to my un-glassesed eyes, “Is it boot camp time yet?” I gasped. “Oh no, just 2:47am.”  That happened about 4 more times throughout the night and needless to say when the alarm finally did go off, I felt about as rested as…someone who hasn’t slept.  (I couldn’t think of a good comparison there.  I tried. But then, I gave up.)

So, off I went to boot camp, half-asleep holding my eyelids up with toothpicks (probably ones that had pierced the olives to my martini the night before but I’m too tired to remember the exact origin).

When I arrived, a “field trip” was announced.  Off we zipped to the canyon for a workout. “What’s with the canyon workout?” I asked innocently.

“Oh it’s really hard, don’t base your impression of boot camp on this,” one participant said.

“You mean the trail of tears?” Another answered.

Um. Pardon? What in the H-E double hockey stick had I signed up for??

I’ll tell you what: Pain, torture, purgatory.

Down the hill into the canyon we ran, over rocks threatening to break and twist our ankles. No sooner had we run down the hill, we were running back up it.  I started to lose steam pretty early on.  “You gotta start somewhere,” I told myself as I huffed and puffed. 

The instructor had us running all over God’s green earth down in that canyon and by green earth, I mean brown dirt.  Dirt that was smeared all over us.  If there’s one thing I hate almost as much as waking up early and working out, it’s getting dirty.

“Okay, guys duck your head and watch out for that poison oak!” the instructor yelled. 

POISON WHAT? I hadn’t signed up for this! I was too prissy for this!!

“Now, we’re coming over here- everybody pick up a rock. We are going to use these as weights. Make sure there aren’t any snakes under there!!” The instructor cautioned.  

Snakes? Now if there’s one thing I hate more than mornings, working out and being dirty- well, you get the picture. It just kept going from bad to worse!

Finally, when I had nothing left to give, the class was over. All we had to do was get out of the canyon. Instead of going out the way we came in, he had us climb up the side of the mountainous terrain.  The hill was so steep, I was clawing at the dirt (and probably also poison oak and stepping on snakes but at that point I was too tired to care) to get out.

My friend Ryan held back with me once everyone else was out of sight. “Ryan, I can’t. I can’t do it anymore. My brain is telling my leg to move and it won’t do it. Please, please call an ambulance. An air lift, helicopter, parachute, I need help. I can’t do this.” I pleaded.

“You can. You will. You have to. There’s no other way out!” He encouraged. Thank God for him, coaxing me up that hill. Stopping to rest. Telling me that at his first boot camp, he was as beat up and bad off.  (Doubt it). “You can do it! A few more steps!” he would call back and I lifted my limp leg with my hand and then dropped it, shuffling up one more step.

Finally, I was met with sweet victory- a miracle had occurred! Not just that I made it to the top, but that I didn’t die in the process. Not dying meaning aside from the fact that my body didn’t crap out on me, I also didn’t fling myself to the bottom of the canyon onto the rocks and to my early death as I had contemplated multiple times.

I was probably 20 minutes behind everyone else making it out of that damn trail of tears but I did it!

I bet you thought that was the embarrassing part: the part where I emerged like a limp, sweaty noodle from the canyon way behind everyone. Not even close.  

But, this post is getting really long, so….TO BE CONTINUED. (Part 2 will be up later this week)

**UPDATED: Click HERE for the second part of this story


If you liked this post, you’ll love the book I’m in! Grab a copy of “I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone,” the follow up to the NYT Best-Seller!

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Toddler Question Sessions

My niece is 4 and like most toddlers, she’s at the age where she asks a gazillion questions.  I always try to be honest no matter what’s she’s curious about at that moment.

“Auntie, why do you have that thing on your toothbrush?”

“It’s a cover so when I travel, it doesn’t get yucky.”


 “Auntie, why are your earring holes so big and stretched out?”

“Because when Auntie was younger she wore heavy earrings and they stretched out her ears. When you get older, be careful not to wear heavy earrings, okay?”


 “Auntie, why do you wear makeup?”

“Well, sweetheart, girls don’t HAVE to wear makeup.  Makeup isn’t what make girls pretty. Sometimes a little blush is nice though. Here let me put a little dab on you, just for fun.”

 So during my recent trip to visit her, it was no surprise when Kailee started in with one of her question- sessions while she was “helping me” get ready in the bathroom.

“Auntie, why are your boobs so big? Will I have big boobs some day?”

“Auntie, what was I like when I was a baby?”

Climbing up on her stool to come be next to me at the mirror, “Auntie, when you were little like me, did you- “

She slipped and fell right on her arse mid-sentence.

“Kailee!” I laughed, “Good thing you have a big bum like Auntie does, to break your fall!”

“Auntie, what if I didn’t have a bum and I only had a ‘gina?”

“Well, sweetheart. Um.” It would be fucking weird is what it would be, I thought.

Kailee looked at me expectantly.  “Umm. See the thing is.  I really don’t know.” Then, she just laughed hysterically and ran out of the bathroom.

That was the first time I wasn’t able to answer one of her questions, but probably not the last. And hopefully the weirdest.

Do you have kids or little ones in your life? What’s the weirdest/funniest/hardest thing to answer they’ve asked you during a question-session?


If you liked this post, you’ll love the book I’m in! Grab a copy of “I STILL Just Want to Pee Alone,” the follow up to the NYT Best-Seller!

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I Still Just Want to Pee Alone- Available Now!

And the moment you’ve all been waiting for!!! Oh wait, more like the moment I’VE been waiting for….(Drum roll please!)

I’m in a book! And it’s available Tah-DAY! 40 of us kick-ass bloggers all got together with hilarious and heartwarming stories about parenthood.  Now I know what you’re thinking-  “Tracy doesn’t have kids, what the heck does she know about parenting?” Well, nothing. But I snuck my way in by exploiting my niece with a story about her.

If you want to get your hands on a paperback copy of the follow-up to the NY Times and Amazon Best-Selling book , CLICK HERE!

Also available on Kindle: CLICK HERE


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Thanks so much for supporting my blog…and now, this book!





The Pony-Show Interview

Nobody likes interviewing: fact. It’s awful. You have to dress up in a suit and talk about how great you are for an hour and carry on about why you’d be perfect for a job that you don’t even *really* know you want… because as much as you’re lying your face off about how great you are, the employers are probably lying theirs off about how great the job is. It’s horrible. It’s not fun- period, end of story.

Know what else isn’t fun? Interviewing people. How the hell am I supposed to know in an hour if you’re a good catch? It’s like marrying someone after going on one speed-date with him. The whole thing is just awful.
A while ago, I wrote a post about the time I bombed an interview. You can read it here if you’re interested and need a self-esteem pick me up. Turns out, that wasn’t the last interview I would bomb….

Amy and I are co-managers of a department, so we co-interview for new candidates. We did a couple together and they went really well. Amy said to me, “I like doing interviews together. We always have the same questions, the same answers to their questions and it saves the person from having to repeat themselves. Plus, it’s more fun with a different energy when we’re together.”

Today, a nice young lady came in to interview for the job. She did all the right things and we were really impressed. We try to be ourselves in interviews and give the job-seeker a relatively normal glimpse into how casual our work environment is and how we operate. Everything went fine and we asked some good questions and were impressed with her answers. At the end of the interview, I was wrapping things up and concluded with:

(What my brain thought I was saying): As you can probably tell, we’re pretty casual here. We work really hard but we aren’t a stuffy company and we know it’s important to have a lot of fun when you’re at work. We want to find someone who’s a good fit for our culture and I hope you felt that in talking to us.

Somewhere the message got lost in translation from my brain to my mouth and this is what came out instead: (Hands gesturing around wildly) “Sorry for the pony show –“ (Cut myself off hysterically laugh/cackling as I realized that was NOT what I meant to say…)

I STG I actually said the words “pony show” IN. AN. INTERVIEW. And with NO CONTEXT!!

I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t MEAN to say that- it doesn’t even make sense! The other day, Amy said “What’s up with this crazy pony show” and for some reason I’ve been laughing to myself about it ever since, and have been dying to use it. OBVIOUSLY time to use it WASN’T at the end of an interview, tourettes-style.

Thankfully the girl just laughed and said, “No, I think you guys are great- I think you’re funny.”
While I feebly attempted to pull myself together and pathetically explain my very strange outburst, I glanced over at Amy who was just staring back at me with wide eyes and her mouth gaping. Somehow we made a break and thanked the girl for coming in and as we left the conference room, Amy burst out laughing. “WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT BACK THERE?” She asked, half horrified, half laughing.

“I don’t know!! I really don’t know what is wrong with me?!” I responded as we walked by one of our co-worker’s desks.

“What happened?” our co-worker asked.

“Oh my god- I just BOMBED that interview,” I told her.

She looked at me, confused, “Huh? How did YOU bomb an interview? I mean I know you can bomb an interview for a job you’re trying to get but how do you bomb one that you’re conducting?”

As I tried to explain what happened, Amy corrected me- “It’s not just that you said ‘pony show’ it’s that you realized how ridiculous it was and hysterically started laughing and none of it made any sense.”

If this girl takes the job, at least we’ll know she’s fully equipped for the insanity that is bound to ensue.

And THAT, my friends, is how you bomb an interview.

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Thanks for reading! ~Tracy

Are You A Keeper or a Tosser?

My mom likes stuff.  She’s a bit of a collector.  She’s not like “Hoarders: Buried Alive” yet or anything.  Maybe more of the “Borderline Hoarder: Might Be Buried Some Day So Keep Checking on Me” variety.

Mom has had stuff stashed away for the grandkids since before there was an inkling that there might be grandkids. Also if the end of the world comes, my parents will be the last ones living because they have a bunker in their basement with canned food that could keep them going for years.

My sister, on the other hand, is a tosser. She throws everything away. She places zero sentimental value on anything and therefore things that are not necessary for everyday use she considers to be clutter.

Mandy has always been like that.  When were kids, Mandy and I shared a room. I remember one day we were cleaning out our closets.  I held up a sweater one of my mom’s friends had knitted me a few years ago.  Since she had made one for Mandy too, I turned to her for advice. “Ugh.  I feel so bad.  Obviously this sweater took a lot of time to make.  It’s really nicely made but let’s be honest, I’m never going to wear it.  But I feel horrible giving it away.  What should I do?” I asked my sister who was throwing things into the “giveaway” bag at lightening speed.

She momentarily looked up from her “tossing.”

“Are you kidding me?” she snorted.  “I got rid of that thing like two days after we got it.  Yeah, it was a nice gesture but it’s ugly.  I can’t believe you still have it!” She shook her head as she went back to her sorting.

I probably kept the sweater for another year or so before I finally got rid of it.  That pretty much sums us all up. Mom keeps things, Mandy throws everything away, and I’m somewhere in between.

What’s hilarious is watching my niece deal with living in a Throw-Away house.  She’s 4 and by now she’s figured out that things in her house “disappear” unexpectedly. Mandy said sometimes she sneaks things over to Grammy’s for safekeeping because she’s also figured out nothing disappears at Grammy’s house.

When I was out visiting them last, we took my niece Kailee to the grocery store.  She ogled over a Princess Ariel Pez dispenser and my sister told her if she was good the entire time- no whining!- she could keep it.  On her best behavior, she got to take Ariel home.  The next day, I saw her frantically rifling through a drawer in the kitchen.

“Kailee, whatcha looking for?” I asked.

“My Ariel! I can’t find my Ariel. Someone must have throwed it away,” she sighed.

I chuckled, “Oh yeah, who would do that?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders.

HAHAAH I don’t know what’s funnier: that she has figured out and accepted that shit just disappears….OR that she has no idea who the “someone” is and it hasn’t occurred to her it’s her own mother and finds it totally acceptable that “someone” creeps into her house throwing her crap away. Ahhaha

So Mandy made a deal with her. Kailee has a nightstand with two drawers and anything that she wants to keep in them,  Mandy promised won’t get thrown away.   I love looking in Kailee’s drawers to see what treasures she’s deemed worthy of protecting.  All her special things get put in there for safekeeping against “someone” throwing them away.

Last time I peeked in there, she had stashed these little plastic animals that I had given her and a couple of other things and I was so giddy that she had wanted to spare her presents from Auntie from disappearing.

I keep laughing at Mandy that Kailee is a hoarder in the making because she’s going to grow up wanting to keep everything in retaliation to the tossing. Who knows what will really happen, in the meantime it’s hilarious to keep tabs on her treasures drawers.

What about you? Are you a keeper or a tosser?


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Kailee’s Junk Drawer

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 Thanks for reading! ~Tracy

Thanks so much for reading! ~Tracy


A Letter to Bam

One of my best friends lost a parent to cancer today and my heart hearts for her loss and my heart hurts because I knew her and loved her too. She was a wonderful, dynamic and loving person and I am happy she doesn’t have to bear the burden of fighting anymore. I know I will hear her laughter forever in my memories.

Here is a letter I wrote to her a while back. I am posting it here because I don’t know what else to do.
This is not my usual post and I promise my next one will be more upbeat. But today, I will mourn the loss of a wonderful lady, and I will pay tribute to her in the only way I know how.

As I sit here trying to find the words, I wonder what you would say to someone who was sick. I wonder if you would feel the anger I am feeling now, the rage at the unjust. I wonder if you would punch your pillow with tears falling down your face, crying, “Why?” over and over again. I wonder how you would handle hearing a loved one was facing cancer. I wonder this because you are the person others try to emulate. You are the person we all want to be like. You always just know. You know how to say the right words, you know how to find comfort in times that feel helpless. You know how to be positive and graceful and kind when all the rest of us feel that positivity and grace and kindness have escaped us.
I am not sure, because I have not perfected the art of living the way you have, but I think that you would tell me to put the rage and anger aside and express kindness and love. I think you would tell me to pray- however it is that I pray, whether it be to God or to a different power, for hope and for calm. I think you would tell me that anger isn’t a productive emotion and you would tell me to speak with words of love.
You may not have any idea how often I think about you- how being around you and Cap forever changed my outlook on life. You have such a fabulous energy about you, such a wonderful and sincere charisma. You have always exuded an aura that anything getting in the way of what you wanted was a joke. Not in an arrogant way- and I’m not saying that things came easy! I know you’ve worked hard. You just calmly DON’T ACCEPT that something isn’t going to happen. You believe in paving your OWN path and you just find a way to make it work— sure, you hit hiccups along the way, but you embrace those as just little pit-stops on the path to where you want to wind up.
And you LAUGH! When things go wrong, you LAUGH! I can hear your laugh now. You have this way of lighting up the room when you laugh. You don’t have a wimpy laugh, you have a bubbled up from the belly laugh that can only come from someone who has learned to enjoy life in such a way that a laugh isn’t just a way of expressing that something is funny. Your laugh is a piece of your soul escaping your lips and touching the people around you.
I remember in college, Jess invited me to go skiing with you guys. My immediate reaction was to politely decline. There were a million reasons not to go: First, I had never been skiing. Imagine! Growing up in New Hampshire and I had never been on a ski lift! I was a struggling college kid, I couldn’t afford it. I didn’t have the gear…the list of reasons not to go- and my list of fears- was a mile long. “Pfff! Of course you’ll come with us! Don’t worry about that stuff!” you said. So we piled into the car and you had gear for me and we drove up to the mountain. Remember how we loved that Macy Gray song, “I Try”? We sang on the top of our lungs, “I try to say goodbye and I choke. Try to walk away and I stumble. Though I try to hide, it’s clear…My world crumbles when you are not near” over and over and over again. I remember the feeling I had when I finally made my way down the Bunny Trail- I did it!! I really did it! I remember thinking, I really need to say “Pfff!!” more often to things that scared me.
Bam, no matter what happens with this cancer and how it tries to get you down, please know that YOU will always have the last laugh. I know this is so because your laugh has already touched everyone you’ve ever met and it’s become a part of us too. Whenever I have a moment where I have to remind myself to be brave in the face of fear, whenever I ask myself, “What would Bam do?” (which is often!), I know that you’ve already beat being sick. You’ve kicked cancer’s ass because cancer will NEVER be able to take away all the people you’ve touched just by being you.

Kindness with a Side of Cheese

Last night we had a happy hour in our office after work.  We brought in some beer and wine and had Mexican catered in.  Everyone was chatting and hanging out, and as the crowd dwindled, the few of us who were left started in on cleanup duty. 

“What are we going to do with all this leftover food?” someone asked.

I surveyed the table: large tin containers of tortillas, beans, rice, guacamole, salsa and all the fixings remained untouched. 

“Tracy, you could drop it off to your friends in Tent City downtown on your way home?” Sonja suggested.

That was very nice of Sonja, considering she’s terrified of my transient neighbors….

We all agreed it was a good idea, and we packaged everything up to bring down to my car.  Each of us had our arms full with trays of food. I drove down to a part of town where I know a lot of homeless people hang out.   Parking near a group of people on the street, I got out of my car and asked, “Are you guys hungry?”

“Yes!!” They exclaimed excitedly.

“Great- I’ve got some Mexican food here,” I told them as I began unloading the trays of food onto the street.   Each of them was grabbing a tray for him or herself and I kept yelling, “SHARE!! YOU GOTTA SHARE!!” as I brought more food out of my car.

All of a sudden this guy came out of nowhere and yanked a bag of tortilla chips out of my hand.  He was dangerously close to being in violation of my personal space. “What kind of chips are these?” he barked.

“Umm… I don’t know? I assume they’re tortilla…” I said as I turned around to get a tray from the car.

I guess that answer wasn’t good enough because he took the bag and shook it in my face, yelling “I NEED YOU TO OPEN THIS BAG. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT KIND OF CHIPS THESE ARE!!!” He demanded.

“Okay, okay!” I shook my head as I opened the bag for him. “Yep, just as I suspected. Tortilla.”

He wordlessly yanked the bag back and scampered off.

Just as I was finishing unloading my car of its Mexican food contents, the chip guy came back. 


Now listen, if he had asked for anything else other than cheese, I might have gotten annoyed or thought he was being ungrateful.  But homeboy had a point; if there’s anything to get disgruntled about it would be not having cheese for your tacos. 

“It’s right there!” I laughed and pointed at a tray of shredded cheese.


Aside from the chips and cheese guy, they all showered me with Thank you’s and God bless you’s while they excitedly assembled  tacos on the street.  I think one guy peed himself in glee right there on his tent when he saw me break out the churros.

It felt good to do randomly do something nice for others, and I told Sonja that when I got home.

“Really? That’s awesome. It almost makes me wish I was there….watching from the safety of my car.” She replied.

Hahaha Okay so maybe up close and personal action with transients isn’t your thing—and that’s okay.  But whatever it is you’re comfortable with, go randomly do something nice for someone this weekend.  I promise it will make you feel good. 

But don’t forget the cheese!!  


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 Thanks for reading! ~Tracy


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“Best Writing” of a Weblog Finalist- Please Vote for Me!

You guys! I am so thrilled to announce that I have been nominated for a BLOGGIE AWARD! In the land of bloggers, this is kind of a big deal. It’s like the Academy Awards of Blogging kind of big.  I was a finalist in the Humor category last year and this year I am honored to be up for “Best Writing.”

Could I ask you all to do me a favor and vote for me? I sure would appreciate it and it only takes a minute! (I promise! Maybe less if you’re a fast clicker!)  

I want to truly thank every one of you who follows my blog.  This is my little corner of the internet that I get to share with you and I am so honored you want to be a part of it! It’s been so much fun making new friends, surprising even myself sometimes with the crazy stories that come out of my head, and reading everyone’s comments to my insanity.  Bloggie Award or no Bloggie, I’m so happy you’re here. Okay, enough mush!

To cast your vote, there are 4 easy steps. (Trust me they are easy and in my attempt to simplify it, I’m probably making it seem harder than it is…)

  1. Go to http://2015.bloggi.es/

This screen will appear:

Bloggies Award Best Writing Best Blog Funny Blog







2. Scroll to “Best Writing Category” (6th up from the bottom) – Click the bottom right hand button on “Tracy on the Rocks” (The boxes rotate positions so make sure you actually look to make sure it’s T on the R- mine isn’t always the last in the row!)

Bloggie Awards Best Blog humor blog best writing



3. Scroll all the way to the bottom. It will require you to put your name, email address and fill out the image you see to prove you aren’t a robot. Then, hit SUBMIT!

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The Idiot Samaritan

I was running around like a madman last week doing last-minute errands getting ready for a trip to visit my family: gifts for the kids, picking up a few mini-toiletries at Target, etc etc.  Then I stopped into an Asian place for some to-go food to bring home to eat while I packed. So I was sitting there waiting for my order and minding my own business when in walks some dude. He asks the counter girl if she knows if there is a car parts shop nearby.  He was speaking very slowly and deliberately and with an accent.  I couldn’t place the accent- German or Russian maybe…Hebrew? . I’m not so great at identifying accents. Or understanding them. Anyway it was very obvious that English was not his first language. So the girl tells him there’s nothing really around and then she says, “Oh wait!  Why don’t you just go across the street to Target and buy the jumper cables and then return them?”

Now here’s the part where I should have kept my head down, waited for my food and left to go finish packing and get on with my day. It was already close to 9pm and I was exhausted. But nooooooooo dumb old Tracy can’t keep her mouth shut. “Wait, is that all you need? Jumper cables?” I asked the German Russian Hebrew man. “I mean, I have jumper cables. I don’t know how to USE them but I’ve got ‘em and you’re welcome to them.”

Outside I marched to where the Russian’s girlfriend was waiting and I happened to be parked right next to them, so that was handy. I dug the cables out of my trunk and handed them to the guy. He looked at me blankly.

“Um so yeah, so like I said I really don’t know HOW to use these things but umm….here you go,” I said as I held them out to him.

“Um yes, I do not really know how to use?” He said back to me timidly.

“Okay well, that sucks. See ya later, buddy! Good luck!” I said and I took my jumper cables and got back in my car and drove off to pack.

Of course that’s not true. Because I’m a big fat idiot.

“Okay, well….let’s YouTube it!” I exclaimed as I got my phone out and shook my head as I prepared to get electrocuted and/or blow my car up.

No lie, this guy was more useless than I was under the hood. And that’s saying something considering I barely know how to open my hood.  I’m not saying because he is a dude that he should know more than I do about cars- that would be sexist.  I’m saying everyone should.  Guys, girls, monkeys…because I’m that inept.  So it was alarming when I was the one taking the bull by the horns on his dead battery.

Ten minutes later, we had figured out how to prop both hoods up.  I had the YouTube playing on the first “How to jump start a car” video that had come up and was using my flashlight app to identify where the battery was.  Just as I was about to stick the red clamp onto the engine, a man and a woman wearing hairnets approached our vehicles. 

These two nice people had been summoned from in the kitchen to come help the dopes out in the parking lot.  The hair-netted woman started speaking very fast in Spanish to the hair-netted man.  Please don’t ask why the cooks at Pei Wei Asian Diner were Mexican.  This is Southern California and Mexicans can do anything. They are like Superheroes.

The Russian guy pointed at his girlfriend.  The girlfriend started speaking Spanish back to the hairnet lady.  The guy in the hairnet started yelling in Spanish too. The Mexican man was then shouting orders at the Mexican woman who had identified that the Russian’s girlfriend also spoke Spanish.  The three of them went back and forth for a bit. The Russian and I just stuck our thumbs up our asses because we were the only two who didn’t know what was going on.

Through all the shouting, they finally figured out how to hook up the correct clamps to the correct parts of the battery.  The cooks went back inside and I sat outside while the battery charged. As I sat there, alone in the dark, it suddenly occurred to me how utterly ridiculous this whole thing was. I was either being Punk’d or I was about to become an after-school special on why you shouldn’t talk to strangers, especially those you didn’t understand.  (I have a tendency to think I’m always going to get murdered, which is odd for a person who is always stopping to help strangers…)

In the end, their battery wouldn’t charge so the whole debacle was a waste.  But, the moral of the story is….oh, Hell there is no moral. I just like to think there was some nice happy ending twist I could put on the whole thing. Next time someone needs help with their car, I’m handing them the number to AAA before my chow mein gets cold.

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 Thanks for reading! ~Tracy




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