Lonely Heart’s Club

With one of the darkest days of any single person’s life approaching (Valentine’s Day), I felt that it was only proper to blog about how terrible it is to be single 1. Near, around, and on Valentine’s Day; 2. In general.  Now if you are single reading this, you already know.  You have been haunted by the larger than life stuffed animals that fill shelves upon shelves at the grocery store, the cliche jewelry commercials that no matter what station you are on, you can’t hide from, and of course the day to day struggle to not self-indulge in chocolate covered everything because you know that you will not be receiving it as a gift and only as a gift to your ever growing waistline. 

For those of you that know me (which that number has dwindled significantly within the past year)  I began hosting singles events through Plenty of Fish’s website.  My events usually target 25-45 year old men and females and are hosted somewhere in the South Side. The first two were total sausage fests.  My intentions were not in anyway focused on me finding someone.  While I was still struggling to get over my ex, I actually began dating someone new, but unfortunately he was not the solution I was looking for to cure my broken heart, and after that experience, I literally had given up for the time being on me finding love again.  My primary focus was to help others possibly experience one of the greatest feelings in the whole wide world.  Some people go their whole lives without feeling it.  Trying to revive the optimistic Disney princess side of me that had been buried by evil and poison, I set my sights on helping other people get their happy endings.   I will say to the people that did have the balls to show up and really put themselves out there, I have nothing but high levels of respect for them, which is why there will never be a blog about what goes on at these events, because after seeing people who are similar to me and my situation (lack of single friends, had epic revelations in their lives, got their hearts ripped out, etc), I now know that where there is a large group of people entering the lonely hearts club, I am not alone.

After reconnecting with an old friend and telling him the rollercoaster events of my life in the past year, he really put things in to perspective.  He said to me, “Shelby, you are fortunate though... you got to figure it all out... and you got to basically hit the reset button.”  And it was so true.  In 1 year, I have acquired an entirely new group of friends, been through mental hell and back, and eliminated all negative variables in my life.  I now understand that I am exactly where I am meant to be.  

Unfortunately though, with hosting events comes great stupidity and great unwanted attention.  When you host a party on POF and you get a certain number of RSVP’s, you then have the ability to mass message people that are within 10k of your event…or so they claim.  Turns out, that it doesn’t stop at 10k, its more like 100k.  So after my first event, I found myself messaging everyone on the website, literally from Wheeling, WV to St. Clairsville, OH within a 25-45 age range.  So in summary, I basically mass emailed roughly thousands of people about this event. 

By doing this, unfortunately you see the good, bad and ugly side of online dating.  Some men, see a message from you and automatically think that you are messaging them to get to know them, which in return results in a lot of messages back, or straight up messages asking you out on dates.  Others, call you a psycho and ask you to stop sending things to them.  You also get really dumb questions like “Are you going to be at this party?” and “Are you single?”  Within minutes of sending this message my inbox blew up.  I literally  had 200 new messages within a few hours so as far as my friends telling me that I need to “Put myself out there” yeah…go hard or go home right?  Eventually you get so annoyed, and so bothered by the messages you just feel the need to respond back.I share with you now, some of my favorite messages that I have received/responded to while trying to host singles events:

Mr. I Don’t Have a Clue:

Clearly common sense is not a strong point with this one.  That and the fact that he is 23.  Notice how I try to divert the conversation to reflect that “Hey I wasn’t talking to you, I was inviting you to a party so you could meet someone who is so very not me,” but he didn’t get the hint.  His persistence is more annoying than anything, considering he tries to continue the conversation with, “So are you single?”  No, I’m just on a dating website because I enjoy stalking people from afar. I have no life so my other hobbies include printing inspirational cat pictures and framing them and recreating a life size sex doll of Justin Timberlake,  but I’m not at all single, being on a dating website, where it clearly states that I am looking to date someone in my profile.  Dinner with you scares me, considering I’m worried that you will ask me dumb questions through the entire dinner like, “How do I use a fork?”, “Did you drive here?” or “So, You like Food right?.” 

Mr. I Can’t Handle Rejection:

 This is one of my favorite ones simply because it showed 50 shades of fucking crazy.  You see leading up to this conversation, the gentleman asked me out, to which I politely (yes, seriously) declined due to 1. I was not attracted to him and 2. He lived out of state.  With that being said, he began to bombard me with messages as to why I wouldn’t give him a chance.  After ignoring him for a few weeks, my mass email about the party went out and the above was the result.  Just the simple fact that he called me a douchebag, makes me laugh so hard that I can’t even write a witty response.  It’s pathetic enough that he couldn’t handle rejection by a girl that he had never met before, but the fact that he wanted to engage in an internet argument was about as useless as a priest judging a bikini contest.  I think you my friend are the one that should be endorsed by Summer’s Eve.  Can you tell them to hurry up and make a “New Car” scented douche already?  Thanks!

Rub-a-dub-dub

 So yeah, Rub Powers eh?  I can honestly say that this is a whole new world for me.  Is this the equivalent of dry humping?  I was unaware that my vagina had special powers?    I mean I can’t fly because I have one, I do not have the ability to read people’s minds, and I certainly do not have the ability to cast a love spell over anybody, so I’m not really sure where you are going with this Mr. Bump and Grind.   I mean the only thing that is special about it is that it can bleed for 5-7 days and not die?  Does that make me immortal?  Do you think that you are a vagician?  Because the only magic you will be making involves your winky and your pinky. I’m starting to question that you may be a love child of either  Austin Powers or Glenn Quagmire, either way unlike them, you will more than likely be spending your Valentine’s Day alone…

Short, Sweet and To the Point

 There is no need for an explanation – Shelby -1; Every douchebag that puts up a shirtless pic -0.  I promise to all my readers that I will continue to keep fighting the shirtless mirror bathroom pic/duckface war…one picture at a time. 

Learn When to Stop…Please

 You would think that when someone says to you, “I appreciate your interest in me, however to be brutally honest I am not looking to date right now.  I am focusing on hosting events and helping others find happiness” that that would be a cue to walk away.  Not Captain Crabs, he has to take it to the next level of creepiness.  With his age set as 32 and his face looking about 16, the thought of him asking me about my sex life made me feel like a pedophile or even worse, a Beiber fan, I had hoped that “Have A Nice Day J” would be a great cut off…nope.  He had to take it even further in to the realms of total creeper.  Calling someone gorgeous is one thing, however referring to a pair of boobs in a singular term is a bit confusing.  If you are going to complement my “breast” could you please be a bit specific?  Are you a fan of Amelia (Left) or Gretchen (Right)?  Which one do you feel is the perky cheerlearder vs. the bookworm?  You must be a virgin because clearly if you think that it is a choice to “sport” something that is permanently attached to your chest and requires surgery for removal.  Oh and by the way you can take your J and…well never mind, you may get a hard on talking about its upper lip…

No Vacancy

Happy Valentine's Day/Singles Appreciation Awareness Day Everyone!  If you are single, living in the Pittsburgh area and want to attend my Vday Singles Party please email playettechic@gmail.com for more information!

Keepin It Real

Shelby

Ebay takes on the Break Up Box

I’m not exactly sure if people even do this anymore, but I know that when I am going through a break up, I like to assemble what is known as a “Break Up” box.  A “Break Up” box consists of a shoebox, or pending on how serious the relationship was, any size box that can be stored somewhere out of sight, that is filled with every single memory of a recent failed relationship.  You tuck all of your memories in this box (pictures, gifts, clothing, anything that was given to you/reminds you of your ex) and put is somewhere that subconsciously you hope to forget about until you’re ready, or if you’re like me, put it in a place that you have to be 100% sober to have access to it.  (Unless like me, you tend to become a drunken rain man when drinking, then you are fucked.)

My breakup box sat under my bed, behind a storage container, and was a real bitch to get to.  Sadly, for being together over a year, all of my fondest memories of us fit it to a small size 7.5 ankle boot shoe box.  My breakup box sat collecting dust under my bed for a good 6 months before I was ready to even open it again.  Opening your breakup box during a period of time when you are still healing, grieving and trying to accept the fatal fate of your failed relationship is the equivalent of opening up your own personal version of Pandora’s box, and boy is that bitch an unforgiving one. 

For months I had been moping around, secretly hoping that we would reconcile, because even though I felt that I was totally victimized by him and hoped for an apology that I knew I would never get, I clang to the unrealistic hope that love would find its way back to us and we would magically return to being the two people that we were when we first met.  It wasn’t until a co-worker of mine said something to me that finally gave me the ass kicking I needed to open the box.   I was sitting at work one day, and we were randomly talking about relationships/marriage and she said to me, “It’s a known fact that you have to get your heart severely broken one time in your life in order to be ready for true happiness.”

When she said that to me, I had a total epiphany.  I had been living in a shit storm for months, and it was time for me to finally buy an umbrella.  This was the heartbreak I needed to find true happiness.

Temporary happiness at one point for me came when I discovered the joys of Ebay.  What first started as a simple shopping experience, turned in to a full blown obsession with buying clothing via Ebay.  It got so bad that I had to get rid of clothes to make room for new clothes that had overtaken my closet.  When I was getting rid of these clothes, I decided to try to make some additional money and took a stab at selling clothes on Ebay.  After making close to $100 dollars, I had yet another brilliant idea to buy other peoples unwanted clothes and try to turn them for profit.  $700 and 180 articles of clothing later, my apartment is once again over flowing with clothes that aren’t even mine this time around.  The last time I was in any type of position to where I had sellable items post break up, I went to a local pawn shop and got like 50 bucks for a diamond necklace, pair of earrings and the worlds ugliest ring.  I then proudly took that 50 dollars and went straight to the casino and gambled it away.  This time around was different though, I now had Ebay that I could sell my unwanted break up box items on. 

There were really only 2 things that were Ebay worthy.  One was a necklace/earring set from Kay Jewelers and the other was a Pandora equivalent Charm Bracelet with about  8 charms on it.   I remembered him telling me (during the good times) that he couldn’t wait to fill up my charm bracelet.  Even though I was highly allergic to the metal and if worn for long periods of time I would break out in to a rash, I didn’t have the heart to tell him because he was so proud of it, it meant something to him, and it was a sign of our intentions to be together for a long time, so even though it had the potential to disfigure me, it instantly meant something to me as well.

Fast forward to the break up and now what do I have?  A charm bracelet that I’m allergic to with 8 charms that now have no meaning other than a reminder of times that are a distant memory.  I can’t wear it because it’s meaning is insignificant now, I can’t wipe my ass with it, because it would probably legitimately hurt and make my butt bleed, and I can’t pawn it because where its unique to the wearer, a pawn shop could give a shit less.  So I decided to sell it off, one by one on Ebay, but in my own special way.

Disclaimer:  What you are about to read are real product descriptions that I posted on Ebay in efforts to sell these items.   They have not been edited or modified. 

Charm Bracelet and Starter Charm

Give your special someone a gift with true meaning. Unfortunately at one time this bracelet meant something to me, however now I'm hoping that by selling it will fund my eternal match.com membership. It's a really great gift to get a female if you're not looking to put a lot of thought into gifts during a long-term situation. You can get her a charm every single holiday and every single special occasion and it will keep her happy. Typically the bracelet and charm combination would retail for about $125. If you're looking for more information please visit the persona website. I unfortunately do not have the original boxes because I thought that we were never going to break up, nor did I think I would result to selling it on ebay out of spite. Oh well, hopefully you buying this will have better luck than I did.

Heart on My Sleeve Charm

I find the irony in the name of this particular charm. The fact that it's called "heart upon my sleeve" correlates nicely with the fact that when I did wear my actual heart on my sleeve the person who gave me this charm ripped it out, threw it on the ground and stomped on it. I'm glad that I've finally drank myself in to so much of an oblivion that I can chuckle rather than crawl into the fetal position and cry. I still like how the heart glimmers in the light. It is similar to the same glimmer that I would get when I stared into his eyes. But now that glimmer is gone, and all I have left is the reminder that I am 31 and single again, and living in a city where single people are the minority and my neighbor’s dog gets laid more than I do... No original box sorry

Lucky Charm

What can I say about this lucky charm? Don't take it literal. The Shamrock brought me no luck whatsoever, so hopefully you can change that. My ex though that it was thoughtful to get me one considering I'm Irish, and it was also St. Patrick's Day. But the only action that this Shamrock brought me me, was the beginning of the downward spiral that I would look back and call the "dark times". I was hoping to use this money to buy a high grade quality frying pan so that my friends could "butterfly effect" me and I could begin my own series of events that would result in me 1. Being rushed to the hospital with a severe head injury, 2. Having a temporary case of amnesia and not remembering who I am or the events of the past. Which would then lead to. 3. Meeting a handsome Dr, falling in love again, and not having to harvest my eggs for "a later date"

S is for… Charm

Currently this charm is a hot commodity online because it is out of stock on the website.  I’m not sure even where to begin on the meaning behind this.  The representation of this charm was simplistic…the first letter of my name.  9 months later, when I look at it, all that comes to mind are adjectives that parallel my roller coaster like emotions.  Pending on any given time of the day, S could stand for:  Seriously? Shit; Salty; Single; Sucktastic – which in all honestly; is a very good representation of what a day in the life of me is like anymore.  I would suggest dousing this charm in holy water and having it blessed by a priest prior to giving it to your loved one, because let’s face it…given the ratio of how quickly  receiving this charm and the relationship shitting the bed was…I would say S is for…well you get it..No original box…Sorry

Sorrie Wine Charm

I never really got the meaning behind why this charm was purchased for me, so the only conclusion that I could come to was that my ex really didn’t’ know me after over 6 months of dating.  For starters, I do not drink wine, for I am a vodka girl.  You would think him watching me down bottles of vodka in front of him, would lead him to think not only that I have binge drinking problem, but also that I may be mistaken for a Russian Army Sergeant trapped in a females body.   Now mind you, I would have been less likely to sell a charm that consisted of a Belvedere, Three Olives, or when I’m desperate Absolute logo.  Also, when I look at this charm, I think it is meant for a certain type of of “girly girl” that sips wine, acts like a lady and gets tipsy and not too buzzed because she doesn’t want the world to have a bad perception of her.   I, on the other hand am not…by any means…a girly girl or a lady when drinking.  I am more the equivalent of a Russian Army Sergeant at a strip club trapped in a female’s body when drinking….No original box…Sorry

Pink Roses and Dew Drop Charm

Well la de da, if only all relationships were as happy sounding as Pink Roses and Dew Drops, we all would be shitting sunshine and barfing rainbows wouldn’t we? Just saying the name of this charm out loud makes me break in to hives and heave a little.   You can’t help but to think this charm is pretty though, its calming green colors with the pink blobs that look like roses, it almost makes me think of a watermelon. A watermelon made of Italian glass, so really that would be a painful watermelon to ingest.  What a fine job those Italians do with their glass.   I’m starting to think that rather than constantly dating men of Mediterranean decent, maybe I should consider dating an Italian glass maker.  Or even just an Italian Man.  Hell at this point I’ll take a bowl of spaghetti, 2 large meatballs and an average sized piece of garlic bread.  No original box…Sorry

Briocade in Teal

When I look at this charm, with its leaf and vine design, it reminds me of a fairy tale.  Maybe it’s the charm that Robin Hood bestowed upon Maid Marion?  Maybe it’s a gift that Snow White received from her Prince after her life changing kiss?  Then I look at it again and realize that my fairy tale was crinkled up like a baseball, whaled in to a dark forest and molested over and over again by dream killer fairies.  Guess what Marion…Your boyfriend wears tights and calls his friends “merry” men.  You may be a princess, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out on your own that your boyfriend is the spokesperson for gay brothels in the middle of the woods.  And as for Snow White, can someone please explain to me how a lazy narcoleptic woman that has bestiality-like tendencies and hangs out with 7 midgets can manage to get a man to travel for days to rescue her, yet I am a 31 year old employed, financially independent woman with no children and very few friends and yet I can’t get a guy to drive 20 minutes across town to rescue me from my vibrator!  No original box!  Sorry….

Enchanted Escape

This is by far my least favorite and ugliest charm that was purchased for me.  I do not get the correlation of the random bird being surrounded by the roses.  It looks like the bird was raised next to a power plant and was severely deformed, leading to its ability to shit rainbow colored flowers.  It reminds me of an ugly broach that an elderly woman would wear that her 5 year old granddaughter picked out because it was, “Pretty”.    You know, I had hope when he enlisted my friends to help pick out a cookie cutter necklace and earring set from Kay (Also for sale) for my birthday, and my friends steered him towards gold and not silver because that is all I wear.   It is very visible in the form of my gold rings, gold necklaces and gold earrings that I wear.   So when I received this charm bracelet, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I have an allergy to the metal and if I wore it for long periods of time my wrist would break out in to a rash.  When he handed me the book of charms and told me to circle ones I liked, I literally circled all the gold plated ones, with the hopes that he would get the subtle hint.  2 weeks later, instead of a gold plated charm…I ended up with this horrific looking thing.  I am not an artsy person that can look at a pile of shit or a hunk of garbage and see artistic wonderment in it.  I look at it and perceive it as being a literal hunk of smelly rancid garbage or a heaping pile of shit. If you find the beauty in this charm then clearly it is meant for you, and that we should probably not meet in real life because chances we have too many artistic differences to be considered acquaintances. 

Editors Note:  My bracelet sold within 2 hours of it posting along with the “Heart on my sleeve charm.” It was a bitter sweet moment for me.  I was finally letting go…moving on after many grueling months of clinging to the unrealistic hope that a relationship still existed.    After the purchase, I received the following note from the buyer (random stranger) that not only put my faith back in to humanity, but I felt like it was a sign that it was going to a good home:

Keepin it real

Shelby

Letters to My Boss – A collection of real e-mails to a former employer

I know that it has been a while since I last blogged, however I have had good reason.  2013 really hasn't been my year.  Call it karma, call it fate, call it whatever you will, my life kind of shit the bed starting in March, spiraling out of control by summer, and it wasn't until recently that I bounced back and returned on the grid.  I've learned a lot about life, people, and love during the past 9 months and I didn’t feel comfortable blogging, due to the dark depressed state that I had put myself in. 

               

  With that being said, I have been saving this next blog for a time when I knew it would be appreciated.  If you are reading this blog, you have just put its popularity one click closer to reaching 10k views.  When I first started this, I never imagined that so many people would take an interest to it.  I started it solely on the basis of giving people a good read, but unfortunately there were those that took it a bit too serious and literal.  I knew that I must have been doing something right when people (that didn’t do a very good job of hiding their “anonymous” identities) started posting negative comments that didn’t even pertain to the blog itself, but instead decided to take personal shots at me.  I figured I must have been doing something right and I was pissing off the right people.  This is when I first discovered the fakeness of “Facebook” friends.  

                

All seriousness aside, there was a time in my career when going to work was the equivalent of hanging out with friends and I had the world’s coolest boss.  During the good times, going to work was as much fun as a real life episode of “The Office”.   I would like to share with you now actual emails that I sent to a former boss of mine, that were intentionally designed to get a laugh as well as submilimany ask for things in the “Shelby” way.  I also want to thank both fans and secret haters for your support.  I am humbled that this pet project has become as popular as it has, and I hope to continue providing you with entertaining stories and experiences:

From: Shelby
Sent: Monday, December 19, 2011 11:48 AM
To: My Boss
Subject: Mike's Replacement

In light of the recent events (Mike’s Departure), I would like to submit a list of requests in the search for Mike’s replacement.  These qualities should be considered during the interview process, in order to 1. Help the transition period with the team and 2. To help me in search efforts of finding a husband.

1.       Must have a college degree.  Little to no student debt is preferred, however depending on how much debt we are talking is negotiable based on other items listed. 

2.       Must have a car (bus pass, bicycle, or walking is NOT ACCEPTABLE)  Prius cars are not acceptable either.  I do not get along well with “environmentally friendly people”

3.       Between the ages of 26-35.  I’m willing to go as low as 25 as long as they do not look like a man child, or 36 as long as they don’t look like a prison inmate.

4.       Single white male of Italian or Greek decent preferred but I am open to English, Irish, Hungarian, Viking, and German descendants as well.

5.       No children (preferred) and or crazy ex-girlfriends.  Dogs are ok, Cats are not. Cats are evil and the spawn of Satan.   

6.       Not emotionally retarded (I do not want to sit and listen to any sob stories at work about how they are incapable of feelings based on past experiences)

7.       Someone with “loose” morals. (and by loose I mean is NOT a “honk if you love Jesus – Tim Tebow bible hugger”)

8.       Have not been previously married and or has just recently gotten out of a relationship with in the last 6 months. (Please refer to #6 if you need clarity)

9.       Someone in shape, but does not look as if they spend hours at the gym.  (There is a reason why I have not watched an episode of Jersey Shore in my life, I enjoy a good six pack now and then, but not in the form of abs)

1.   Someone with good work ethic, but also has a social life.  (Not accepted: Guy who clings to the unrealistic idea that he is still a college frat boy and thinks he can drink like one, men suffering from “Peter Pan syndrome” (not wanting to grow up), and my personal favorite: has a bro-mance with his best male friend that is borderline homosexual.

 Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to voice requests for Mike’s replacement.  I hope that you will take some of these qualities in to consideration when making a decision.  I am sure interoffice romance is frowned upon, however, I am 29 years old and single.  I am fearful that I have about 5 years of good looks left and would like to snag someone now, before things start going in to disarray.    I look forward to working with our new teammate in the near future!

 Shelby

From: Shelby
Sent: Tuesday, January 17, 2012 2:10 PM
To: My Boss
Subject: Printer in *** Building

 Dear Boss:

                I hope that when disposable income is available, you will consider allowing the purchase of a new printer in the *** building.  The printer, which I refer to as “Stubborn Sally”, is the equivalent of child in its terrible 2’s. 

“Sally’s” issues

1.       Sally cannot count.  When you tell her to print a specific amount of copies, she will either give you more or less than the requested amount.

2.       Sally does not like cardstock.  When I attempt to feed her cardstock, she makes up an imaginary paper jam most of the time, which results in both of us throwing a temper tantrum.  Other times she gets pissed off at me and does jam when I’m feeding her cardstock, causing me to waste paper and time yelling at her for not eating her cardstock properly.

3.       Sally claims that her fuser needs replaced, however Jessica and I have replaced her fuser 2 times (within a year and via *** in corporate), and she just doesn’t want to accept the fact that we got rid of her old fuser and replaced it with a new one.. what a stubborn girl.

4.       Sally likes to waste ink.  Being she is the only child from China that came with an instruction manual, she is not living up to her potential.  She gets ink everywhere, as well as likes to “paint” blobs of ink on some printing jobs. 

5.       Sally does not like to center things.  She stubbornly likes to print things crooked when using the self-feeding tray.  I feel as if the macaroni crafts she will make in kindergarten may reflect that of a serial killer. 

6.       Sally has an addiction with recalibrating.  She loves it so much, sometimes she recalibrates after printing 3 pages.  I worry if recalibrating is a gateway drug that will lead to harder drugs and mental issues later on in life?  i.e Toner Sniffing, Ink Herion or potentially paper cutting herself to death. 

7.       Sally may have a fever.  Every time we replace her fuser, she overheats.  I am convinced she has a few wires loose, however being a hypochondriac does not sit well in this office.

8.       Sally may have hostile tendencies.  Sometimes when she prints, she likes to draw lines in the print job, almost as if she has some sort of resentment for the world from a past life. 

With the list provided above, I hope that you will consider sending Sally back to her homeland of China where she can be taken care of properly and replace her with a more reliable, mature and less stubborn model. 

 Thanks,
Shelby

From: Shelby
Sent: Thursday, January 19, 2012 2:28 PM
To: My Boss
Subject: Obituary for Stubborn Sally's Tray 1


I am sad to announce that today at approx. 1:45 this afternoon, Stubborn Sally's tray #1 ascended into the mechanical heavens joining some of its predecessors such as the CD Player, Walkman, and A-Track player.


I was on site during the passing. It was quite sad. Tray #1 suffered a breakage of a plastic piece that allows the paper to feed in to Sally's Belly. Attempts at a rescue failed, due to a series of unfortunate events.

1. Super Glue was unable to be opened due to the stubbornness of it
adheasiving the cap to itself. Dr. Kate and Dr. Shelby attempted to revive the super glue using pliers, however with time running out we decided to make the executive decision to poke a hole in it.

2. Dr. Shelby then proceeded to try to save Tray #1, by using the rouge super glue to attach the two parts back together. Not only was this unsuccessful, but Dr. Shelby almost not only super glued her fingers together, but also almost glued herself to the tray.

3. Dr. Kate then proceeded to use the Hair Dryer to hope that the
adhesive would bond. While Tray #1 was flat lining at this time, we said a small prayer and before long, there was a pulse. Unfortunately this was short lived. Upon returning Tray #1 back to Sally from the make shift hospital "aka the Barstool in our meeting area" that had housed it, it broke again.


Tray #1 was a the most popular tray of Sally's entourage. It was our go-to tray for any and all needs. It is fortunate that it died however, because now all of our companies printing secrets have died with it.

For the time being, I have promoted Tray #2 to be the replacement until we give ourselves time to mourn the loss of our good friend. Please alert your computers to use Tray #2 as a default. If they question what happened to their pal Tray #1, just tell them he was overworked and cracked under the pressure.


In Lieu of flowers, a memorial fund has been set up in Tray #1's honor. Checks can be made payable to **** Accounts Payable.

In Tray #1's last will and testament *** and Tray #1 agreed that if
anything were to happen, **** would agree to give the open position to Tray #1's first born son. According to the research and Facebook Stalking I have done, Tray #1's wife (Margaret), is 8 months pregnant. Since the child labor laws are different for machinery, we have an executive right to the child upon birth.

RIP Tray #1

From: Shelby
Sent: Monday, June 18, 2012 10:04 AM
To: My Boss
Subject: Computer Issues

Boss-

I think my computer, similar to myself, has gone in to permanent sleep mode.  At one time, also similar to myself, my computer was a self starter, meaning that it would just automatically start working by button pushing and empty threats.  Now my threats are not working....

Currently when I attempt to push Archie's buttons (his power button to be exact), and like any stubborn child of his age (I'm assuming by his looks, condition and his younger Dell siblings, he is probably about 5 years old) he does not cooperate and listen to me.  Rather than showing me a green light indicating that its "all good" followed by the reassuring sounds of his internal parts (a fan and sometimes a weird clicking noise), I now receive a blinking orange light.  With each moment that I watch this orange light blink back at me, I can only imagine Archie try to communicate to me saying "Caution, Caution, Caution,"  however due to the comatose state that he is in, he cannot indicate to me what's wrong.  So as I sit in my office in total silence, receiving no vital signs from Archie, I attempted to perform the following tasks with the hopes of bringing him back from the dead, which all have failed.

1. After consulting with the All Might Monitor God (Lets call her Carrie) , I was instructed that there was no signal coming from Archie.  She instructed me to press any key on the keyboard or mouse to wake him up or to press an imput button.  As I pressed numerous keys on the keyboard in an attempt to wake up my sleeping beauty, nothing happened.  Being slightly short tempered, and it being 7:30 am on a Monday Morning, my anger got the best of me and I proceeded to throw my own temper tantrum by not only using my hands to bang on the keyboard desperately thinking that this time Archie would hear me in his sleep, but also the usage of my forehead on the keyboard was used at the end to prove that I had given up. 

2.  After taking a break and calming myself down, I marched back in to my office with a calm demeanor, and decided rather than taking a boxer approach to fixing this, lets take an electricians approach.  It was at this point I realized 2 things, 1. my floor is absolutely disgusting and I need to clean it, and 2. there are alot of wires that mean nothing to me.  The simplest solution for me was to unplug each wire, one at a time, hoping that by doing this, it would revive Archie and breathe new life in to him.  As I engaged in this second failed attempted at waking up Archie, I did however manage to turn lemons in to lemonade by cleaning up my floor, and making it a more socially acceptable space for the fruit flies that have now invaded my office. 


I am not sure what to do from here.  I do happen to have Archie's stepsister "Anna" with me at all times, so I do have at least 1 computer, however, I am worried that if I arrange Archie to be life flighted to our institution in **, that he may end up where Sally (his printer cousin) did, only as a permanent fixture on the *** "rack of technology shame.   I will contact Dr. ***  and get a second opinion before I go "Office Space" on him and throw him from the first 3rd story window I can find.    I just wanted to make sure that you will be OK funding Archies trip to ** to get emergency surgery first.

Please let me know

Thanks

Shelby

From: Shelby 

Sent: Thursday, August 02, 2012 11:49 AM

To: My Boss

Subject: Alert - Please advise

I would like to inform the team of an incident that has been committed in the *** building. The incident occurred at approximately 10:15 while all upper level management was in attendance of a meeting.



A rouge steamer in the *** building attacked one of our own, causing them a severe panic attack and resulted a trip to the hospital.  The rogue steamer, which was rumored to be a disgruntled employee due to hearing a rumor that it was going to get bumped from a P2 to a P1 position at the bid session tomorrow, decided to attack the unnamed individual by spraying steam in to their face, which resulted in campus police and paramedics to be rushed to the scene.



Where the employee is set to be ok, police interrogated the steamer, to which they found no sufficient evidence to place any charges at this time for any wrong doing.

In light of this incident, I would like to share with you all tips on to prepare yourself in case a situation like this arises.

1. Treat all equipment with respect and love. As I have learned in the past with the "**** Technology Wall of Shame" be sure to treat your equipment the same way you would a small child or an elderly adult. Where people have expiration dates, equipment have things called "expired warranties", which make their funerals more expensive when you need to replace them, and I also hear that their union is the worst to work with, due to being on hold for long periods of time, as well as being unable to understand the dialect of your union rep assigned to your location, which can make the conversations a bit foggy.

2. Assure the equipment they will be ok. We all get overworked sometimes, which causes a cloud of mist to surround us. Teamwork and building long lasting bonds between employee and equipment is crucial in order to maintain a healthy working environment.



3. Assure the equipment that you are there for it, and lend a supportive ear to its needs and wants. If it makes unfamiliar noises, starts peeing on the floor like a small puppy, or just loses its will to go on, be sure to contact the psychiatry department (via ***) ASAP to request an evaluation session, which you will be assured an appointment with in any 6 month time frame.

I hope that by sharing my life experiences with you, it will provide you with a road map to success, allowing you to vaporize any issues that you may have.

Thanks

Shelby

Keeping it real and thank you for 10k hits J

Lock and Key

Lock and Key

                One year ago, if you would of saw me, I had it all.  I was in the process of falling head over heels in love with a guy, I had more friends than I could keep up with, I had the world's easiest job and it was like in some weird way, all the stars had aligned and I felt like I was finally going to get the happy ending I had always dreamed of.

                Fast forward a little over a year later and you would of found me at rock bottom. It's amazing how much difference a year makes.  About 9 months ago, I had begun  to intentionally sabotage my relationships with people that I had known for over 10+ years, because for a period of time, I was literally out of my fucking mind.  During this time, I was miserable and depressed with my life.  30 hit me hard.   My relationship wasn't progressing in the manner that I wanted it to, I was suffering from terrible withdrawal symptoms due to quitting smoking, and I was absolutely miserable at work, sending out 10+ applications a day, to get next to no interviews.   Being around happy people who were getting the most out of their lives, only sent me in to a deeper spiraling depression.  Then 3 months ago, I found myself going through literally the most painful and heartbreaking breakup of my life.  Throw in the fact that I had isolated and pissed off everyone in my comfort zone, I was left picking up the shattered pieces of my heart off the floor, feeling as if I had no one to talk to.  I had reached out to a couple of people from my "past life", and acquaintances that I had met throughout the years, but I still felt alone, abandoned and just downright shitty. 

                Being that I literally spent a majority of the summer moping, crying, and pretty much telling my story to any random stranger that would listen to me.  Now that it is September, I am pretty pissed that I spent the entire summer as an emotional train wreck  rather than actually enjoying it.  It's ok though,  3 months after rock bottom hit, the panic attacks have subsided and with each passing day my heart heals a very little bit, while still being haunted by the ghost of the memories past.  I don't think I would be anywhere near where I am right now if it wasn't for Chuck.  He has been my rock through all of this, and has proven to me that there are good people in this world, especially during a period of time when all I saw was evil. 

                With that being said, once I started to get out of my funk, I began to start dragging myself out of the house, just to be a bit more social.  It had gotten to the point where I had looked forward to going to work, just so that I could be around people.  Chuck played babysitter to me while I got my drinking legs back, and also began entertaining my social calendar.  It's funny, when you are in a relationship, all you see around you is singles; but when you are single all you see are happy fucking ladedah couples skipping, jumping, holding hands and dry humping in public...which is not a good atmosphere to be in when you  are in recovery mode.  I literally gave up Facebook for 2 months, because I had to watch people on my friends list post about getting everything that they their little heart's content while I woke up every day to life giving me the middle finger, and I got sick of it.

                It is very true when you aren't looking how things find you.  Literally, once I snapped out of my funk, and regained most of my self confidence back, it was like the world took notice.  Random guys began hitting on me, smiling, flirting, asking me out on dates, and for the first time in my life, all I wanted to do was be left the fuck alone.  Any guy that approached me, I would lay it out on the line for them: "I do not want to date at the present time.  All I can offer you is friendship."  To which 95% of them would tell me they are ok with it but literally within a week would make some sort of uncomfortable comment about dating to me that left me and Chuck both smacking our foreheads in disappointment.  For the record,  I want more than anything to be ready again to even just be attracted to someone that is not of celebrity status, unfortunately, when you put all your eggs in the "love basket" and they end up blowing up like atomic bombs right in your face, recovering takes time and its taking more time that what I like.  I'm not in any rush whatsoever to get married or have children, and I'm really even questioning if I am someone that is destined for love, marriage and happily ever after.  I feel like a lesbian that is not in to women, and the thought of men absolutely repels me.  For those of you avid readers, I'm sure you find this admission shocking.  You probably would of never thought that I would bare my soul and even mention that I am actually quite human perhaps?  Well I am.   I was a girl that fell deeply in love with a boy, causing all of my logic and level headedness to go out the window.  In the end we had become two totally different people that couldn't make it work.  My trials and tribulations continue and hopefully when the scars heal, I will bounce back as Shelby 2.0, and even better and feistier version. 

                So with that being said, life has been very mellow.  I refuse to turn to online dating when I am ready to put myself out there again, which makes it tough to blog because that was my niche.  That was until I was handed an opportunity that I couldn't refuse...

                My Saturday started like any normal single person's day would, minus the hangover.  I had gone out a little bit the night before, but didn't really overexert myself.  I had dedicated the day to myself, doing adult things.  Apparently though, when you tell people that you are doing adult things all day, they begin to question your motives.  Where in my mind "adult things" are  laundry, shopping, cleaning;  apparently in the minds of those that I communicated with they thought I meant gang bangs and anal beads. 

                I had every intentions of staying in, relaxing and just enjoying "me" time.  Chuck and his friend Mike had registered for a "Lock and Key" singles event at Bossa Nova, to which I wanted him to give me a full report.  I think Chuck was more excited about the fact that there would be door prizes at this event, rather than the potential to meet anyone.  The age range was pretty wide (25-50) so that made for a great story right there.  As fate would have it, one series of events lead to another and I ended up downtown right around the time that the event started.  I had no intentions of going to this event, and I was very unprepared anyways.  I had not showered that day, even after completing week 3 of the Insanity work out.  I was wearing a black wife beater with a hot pink bra that is about 2 sizes 2 small, yoga pants, and white tennis shoes.  My hair was in a pony tail, and the remnants of my make up from the night before still lingered on my face.  Fortunately before I left the house, I did manage to put on deodorant which I considered to be a win.  I literally was rocking my "I do not give a ratsass what I look like" vibe, considering I had planned on doing what I needed to do downtown and go straight home.  Then a part of the old me surfaced randomly and I began to think, "How funny would it be if I went to this event, looking like this, better yet, I'm not even going to tell Chuck I'm showing up and just arrive."  It's a Saturday night, I have no real plans and I'm feeling like my old self again...I'm going for it; and just like that I was off to my first Lock and Key event.

                I should of known that the $32 assraping I had to pay to even get in the door was a sign of things to come.  Unbeknownst to me, my first What the Fuck moment happened, literally as I walked through the door. 

                2 weeks prior to this event, apparently a memo must of went out, and people my past decided it was "Let's drunk dial Shelby" week.    The night of the VMA's, as I'm writing the last blog, my phone rings at 11:30pm.  I don't recognize the number, so obviously I do not answer.  No Voicemail.   2 minutes later, it rings again, I don't answer.  No Voicemail.  5 minutes after that; the same number, so I answer.  "Hi Shelby, I'm not sure if you remember me, but we met last April during speed dating."   WTF?!  I pretend that I didn't remember him hoping that the conversation would be short sweet and to the point.  This part of the story was omitted from the Speed dating blog, because this revelation came after I had written it.  Apparently, Chuck let me roam free after speed dating at Bossa Nova drunk and unattended last April, and I gave one of the guys my #.  When he text me the next day, I had no recollection of doing this, only that I knew I was not interested in anyone romantically from that event.  I do remember, after roughly 5 text messages back and forth,  there was just something off about him, and I just stopped responding to texts.  I even want to say he called me a couple of times to which I bluntly ignored the calls.  The drunk dialer proceeds to go on a tangent about how he has hit a rough patch in his life, and how I left an impression on him, how he needs to live in the moment and his life has been one missed opportunity after another,  eventually leading to asking me out because he "felt that he blew ME off and didn't think it was fair and wanted to give me a chance."  Rather than pointing out that it was in fact me who ignored him last April, never in my life have I been more happier to not have to pull a ridiculous lie out of my ass and tell the truth.  I proceeded to give the "Just got out of a relationship" excuse to which he got very angry about his timing of calling me.  He was so angry to the fact that I was not willing to date him, that he wanted me to tell him EVERYTHING about the demise of my relationship from start to finish.    Being that I had finally started accepting it was over, I really did not want to reopen the wounds and I told him I didn't really feel like talking about it.  He relentless bugged me, and where my head was telling me, "Just hang up, Shelby" I felt bad for him.  I know what it's like to hit rock bottom and feel as if the walls are closing in on you, so I gave him a the benefit of the doubt and a quick summary.  

                "Well it sounds to me like he really didn't ever love you." He said.  I thought  "Wow - thanks man, that's what I really wanted to hear, especially coming from someone who seems more emotionally damaged than Amanda Bynes".   He then proceeded to say,  "I am learning a lot about you, here I thought that you were a strong, independent woman would wouldn't take shit from anyone."  Ummm, ok?  Sorry for being human I guess?  Do you also think that girls don't fart, Santa still exists and if you say Candy man 10 times in front of a mirror, you will have a supernatural experience?  He goes on,   "I remember the only thing I didn't like about you was that you smoked like a chimney."  This conversation is making me consider smoking like a chimney again but only if it will make you leave me alone.  "Why do girls like you always let guys like that break your heart?"  Why is the sky blue?  Why do frogs "ribbit" and not go boooiinng?  I don't have the answer for you buddy, but what girl wouldn't want to date a guy with a sparkling personality and uncanny ability to not come off sounding like a total asshole such as yourself?  It was at this point that I couldn't contain myself and had to end this conversation.  This guy was a bigger train wreck than me, and there is only room for one of those in my world.  I literally had to say "I'm going to bed now" 5 times before he stopped talking about himself to listen to me say that I am getting off the phone. 

                So with that 2 weeks ago, guess who is standing in the doorway at Bossa Nova when I arrive?  Shit.  As I walked up to the counter to register, I instantly gave a fake name.  Tonight I will be Sandy...and Sandy has never met this room full of people  and will not drink and or draw attention to herself, she will just observe and report.  I'm practically dressed like a ninja with the exception of my white shoes, I will just blend.

                The concept of the event is actually pretty cool.  Girls get a lock, guys get a key.  It is then up to you to go around the room talking to people with the hopes that their key will unlock you.  When you unlock, you either 1. remain in conversation and find your soul mate, or 2. walk to the registration table and get a raffle ticket and a new lock.  After the rules were explained to me,  I turned around and  saw Chuck standing there.  I had been spotted...The look on his face was priceless and  worth the $32 expense.  It was a mix of, "I can't believe you showed up looking like this" and "I'm glad you came."

                And so begins the event.  Not even taking the event, or myself serious, I walk up to a couple of 40 something males and say, "Would you like to stick your key in my slot?" and  literally, the first key that went in opened my lock.  As I made my way to the registration table, Mr. Speeddate was standing at the door, meaning I literally had to walk right past him to get my raffle ticket and a new lock.  Ok Sandy you can do this...I literally walked sideways, avoiding him at all costs to get to the table to get my stupid raffle ticket.  Crisis averted and like I felt like I had just powered up my character on a video game and received 1 ninja skill point.

                I was doing great, I wasn't drinking so I wasn't drawing attention to myself, the energy in the room was high and Mr. SpeedDate was on the total opposite end of the room.  So far within the first 10 minutes mission accomplished.  12 minutes in I managed to ruin that. 

                Bossa Nova is a great location, its upscale, trendy and it drives a lot of the business professional- older crowd, however where they make up for the experience, they lack in Feng Shui.  I'm not sure how high the interior decorator was when he went shopping for this establishment, however I would love to get a dime bag of whatever it was he was smoking.  Whatever fucking moron decided to put clear glass knee level tables in a poorly lit bar should be arrested for treason.  While trying to maneuver through the crowd, I managed to knock my right knee on the corner of the glass table, causing me to let out a cry of total pain, followed by an angry scream of "FUCK"....That is when the crickets started chirping and my life turned in to a Tupac song with All Eyes on Me...   Ninja skill point removed.

                As my knee is throbbing and I'm starting to calculate how much a knee replacement surgery is going to cost and at what age it is going to be the most beneficial.. I'm talking to Chuck and Mike, and  out of nowhere,  I get ninjaed by a pudgy Asian guy.  Yes, I am profiling and it sounds horrible,  but it is true.  He literally just came out of nowhere like a random UFO sighting.    It took him 2 minutes to introduce himself because he had a horrible stutter.  We will just call him F-F-Francis for the sake of time.  After his introduction, and the realization that his key did not fit my lock, he said to me, "I don't really think not being able to undo a lock can dictate fate, what do you think?"  To my Beaver County readers, if you heard a strange noise last night around 8:30 pm, it was in fact my eye roll that you heard all the way from downtown Pittsburgh.    I'm still not 100% on my game, and honestly, the old me would of just ran with it, telling ridiculous lies and made up experiences, however I felt kinda bad for him...He had came to this event alone and I think he may have had a bit of social anxiety  that prevented him from really knowing how to be comfortable talking to a woman.  My theory was proven when he began asking me super deep questions about life and love and I got the impression that he had intended on chatting me up all night, so I politely told him to go socialize and to stop back later, hoping he would meet someone else that could appreciate his ninja like ways.

                  Within the first 30 minutes, I had 5 of my locks unlocked, all while still dodging Mr. Speed Date.  I was feeling pretty good.  Even looking like total shit, people were very nice and receptive toward me.   Of course the only ones that I found myself being  slightly attracted  to were there one that snubbed me, but I was having fun and really cared less.

                I was mid conversation with the cutest old man ever (he had to be at least 65+) when I got ninjaed again!  Literally not there one minute, there the next.  Again he wanted to start a deep conversation to which I politely just said I had to poop and walked away.  Ninja skill is now at negative 1.  When I came back from the bathroom, not only had F-F-Francis disappeared from the entire event, but  I noticed a decent looking guy standing by himself in the corner.  I decided to sashay his way rather than ninja roll because my skills were clearly in the red.  His name was extremely unique which I liked, but I couldn't pronounce it for the life of me, so I just called him Iliad.  Iliad had such pretty eyes but the personality of a pet rock.  Talking to him was as painful as what I imagine a colonoscopy would be to a heterosexual male.  Such a waste of something so pretty to look at. 

                As my made my way around the room again, dodging Mr. Speeddate, I had a couple of close calls that resulted in me ducking, bobbing, weaving, and making sudden movements that were similar to that of someone with turrets syndrome.  Character Ninja skills level up!   When attendees would witness this they would say "Sandy, whats wrong?" Half the time I ignored them because I forgot I was using a fake name, so I would literally stand there looking like a spaced out asshole,   the other time I would make up an environmental issue like: I had to tie my shoe, or I had a leg cramp."

                After being mentally exhausted with my mind in the gutter most of the time due to comments that people didn't even realize they were saying like, "My key is stuck in your lock." "My key won't fit in your lock." and  "You broke it" I had found Mike and Chuck talking to 2 women, who looked to be around our age.  I walked over to them and we instantly clicked.  It was like our mini group had been complete.  We began sharing horror stories of the evening, and were in hysterics.  Meeting them, justified my $32 admission fee. 

                It was door prize time, I saw Iliad looking lost again, so I called him over to see if he wanted to hang out with us.  Again we began chatting in forced conversation, that was very dry and boring, leading to nowhere.  I used my infamous line about online dating and "What am I going to tell my grandchildren?  It was love at first type?" which didn't even get a chuckle.  This bothered me and I felt defeated.  Then out of left field, he mentioned how we should hang out sometime.  I grabbed Chuck to be a witness, and told him that I was not looking to date, just hang out, do stuff, be friends etc and I looked at him and said, "Are you OK with this?"  to which he replied, "Yes that's cool".  I turned my back to him to check my raffle ticket, turned back and he had already moved on to the girl sitting down behind us.  I had officially went from the underachieving girl that doesn't give a shit to instant penis repellent now experiencing a Greek Tragedy in progress. I guess he wasn't ok with it after all, considering he ended up leaving with her.  It's amazing how the demeanor of men change once they realize you are not offering up your vagina on a silver plate.   I told Chuck and Mike it was ok, because his breath smelled like actual shit, then realized that I was being very hypocritical because after thinking about it, I remembered that in addition to the fact that I was un-showered, smelly, and in no means trying to impress anyone,  I hadn't brushed my teeth all day...

Keeping it Real

Shelby