Silence would be appreciated

I wish my camera phone didn't make noise. Because then, I could take a photo and share with you the glory that is the moomoo a coworker of mine wore to work today.

I didn't think moomoos existed anymore. Is that even how one spell's it? (A Google search turned up a better spelling of "Muumuu" for all intents and purposes. Yet, "moomoo" feels more accurate.

I am not a fashionista. I could care less about something that appears on a runway, unless it has something to do with the plane I'm about to board, I suppose (and then I'm thinking safety over style... I'm digressing).   


Anywaaaaaaay ... Come. On. A moomoo?

I've always associated the fashion mistake that is the moomoo with my mom... who is a human mistake walking in all aspects of life. She used to wear them all the time, but I've got to give her props in that I can't ever remember her wearing the moomoo out of the house.










Unless the driveway counts. *remembers neighbors reactions...* Okay, yeah, it counts. But, more digression...

My coworker is not an unattractive woman. And I know her fashion sense is a wee less than mine, given that I've seen the intricate patterned (read: colorful cat) sweaters she's worn. But... the moomoo? She came to my desk to discuss... something, I'm really not sure what, because I couldn't stop staring at the full turtlenecked, long-sleeve, skirt-to-the-floor moomoo she was wearing.

Obviously, human resources departments should take such distracting clothing choices into account when writing dress codes into the books.

Burnt Popcorn

My office building has this office floor plan (read: waste of space) where the center of every floor is wide open, creating this square where you can see, hear and yes… smell, everything that happens on any given floor. So you can really visualize it, every time someone retires, we all go out to the railings on our assigned floors and clap for the escapee… err… retiree as they leave the building on the first floor.

No one in my building has been able to explain the architecture genius that is this too-open floor plan.

But never is it worse than when someone burns popcorn.

Forget just making popcorn, which turns your work area into a buttery movie-theater. But burnt popcorn on any floor of the building brings upon nasal suffering of 400 works who share the same air.

Rant over.

(Disclaimer: I enjoy ranting.)