Meat on a Stick

As promised, a picture from my trip to Greekfest on Sunday afternoon. If I've learned one thing about Greeks from the trip (and the past ten months of dating one), it's that they like meat on sticks. Often I'll come home from work to find Nick on the balcony, roasting a chicken on a spit...

Kidding. Usually I come home from work to find Nick in his underwear watching Sci-Fi. But I'm pretty sure somewhere in his blood lies the desire to roast whole animals, since that's what Greekfest was all about. And let me tell you, that lamb was delicious. Readers (of the non-vegetarian variety), I urge you to seek out Greekfests in your own towns, because these people know how to have fun. I ate way too much, heard to some festive (and very loud) Greek music, visited the Hellenic museum, and got a chance to practice the two Greek phrases Nick has taught me thus far: Efharisto (Thank you) and Do onoma moo inay Emily (my name is Emily). Keep in mind that I have spelled these out in pure phoenetic spelling, as I have no clue what the Greek letters are, depsite being in a sorority for 2 years. I think I'm well on my way to learning the language!

Aaaaand it's back at the office for another week of administrative fun. Today I had the task of calling and discussing logistics with the flaky artist who has been commissioned to paint the President of the Association's cat. She was a real peach. The high note of the day was the celebratory free coffee cake break mid-morning, since I didn't have time for breakfast and apparently didn't have time to zip my fly either. That's right, I got on the bus today with my fly down, and had to awkwardly stand with my book pressed against my crotch until I could get a seat and inconspicuously zip up.

A couple things I've been pondering: I've noticed, as of late, that lots of women walk sort of funny and bow-legged-like. Is this because of their shoes? Is it an attempt to look skinnier? I mean, I guess they could just be bow-legged, but I'd think their parents would have been kind enough to have them straightened out during childhood.
Also, the word guestimate. I really hate this word, and people in this office love it. Just choose one: guess or estimate! They mean basically the same goddamn thing, right?!?!

And now back to work planning a luxury retreat for real estate executives. If you're reading this and you have not yet chosen your career or are in a position to change careers, I urge you: GET THYSELF INTO REAL ESTATE. You will be glad, very, very glad.