The Post-MBA 99-Cent Book Sale

I’m done my MBA! I have my unbalanced life back!

(Or at least until I start my PhD, which is 10+ years away.)

It’s been a long three years, but my bosses can get off my case now and let me have some semblance of a life. There’s no sense of accomplishment because I really do think a monkey can get an MBA and I wasn’t doing it for me. There’s just this sense of utter relief and “Finally!”

So, to celebrate, all the books to which I hold the rights are now on sale for 99 cents until someday in May.

Bullying Follow-up

Last October, I wrote a post on bullying and, despite the lack of reader engagement, promised to donate $1,000 to a charity that actively works to support anti-bullying.

Here’s the proof:

Of course, while doing my tax returns this year, I noticed that my 2012 donations are kind of pitiful. It’s time for me to step up on the charity front. In the past, I always focused on children and education, but I think it’s time to branch out. I hear the Canadian Cancer Society is always in need of money.

Jon Bon Jovi, Still Limber at 51

Got a break from work and school and saw Bon Jovi two nights ago. Richie Sambora was a no-show, but Jon is still as charming as ever.

Anyway…

Sis: There are seats on the floor? Why are there seats on the floor? They weren’t there for the Muse concert.

Me: The average Bon Jovi fan is middle-aged now and can’t stand for long periods.

Seriously. There were grandmas and grandpas all around me. And I don’t think anyone explained to Jon that Calgary is an early-to-bed, early-to-rise city, so he was noticeably disappointed that the crowd didn’t go wild during every minute of the concert. Hey, they still sold out, so I’m sure the band made a pretty penny. (Or well, maybe pretty nickels since Canada nixed the penny.)

Happy International Women’s Day

(For some reason, my Russian female friends take this day seriously. One of them even gave me flowers today. I reciprocated with vodka…French vodka.)

After a fantastic dinner at Vero Bistro, where they don’t commit the heinous food crime of smothering escargot in cheese, a girlfriend and I went to watch the latest installment of Die Hard. The franchise has strayed far from its roots (but who can really top Alan Rickman as Hans Gruber?), but admiring Jai Courtney’s muscles and not-too-pretty face (pretty boys aren’t for us) was a pleasant way to spend 90 minutes. And my friend got to see her home country on the big screen. Her only criticism was that the smiling taxi driver wasn’t authentic because Russians don’t smile.

All in all, while I don’t think we did our part to progress the women’s movement, it was a great girls’ night out.

Life Just Got Crazier

This afternoon, I accepted a supervisory role on top of my current role. Well, I can’t say I didn’t ask for it with my whining about not being busy at work. I’m replacing someone in the UK (but, thankfully, I won’t have to relocate), getting an additional boss, and inheriting another team based entirely in Houston…which is better than having a team scattered across four continents (been there, done that, got no sleep). Masochist that I am, I’m actually quite excited about the new role, despite more frequent trips to Houston.

Once I get a handle on the new role, the writing should get back on track.

Only for the Pope (or Ex-Pope)

…would I stand in the middle of an insanely large crowd for three hours. (I have claustrophobia and mild agoraphobia, so I won’t put myself in a crowded space like that for any movie or rock star. I might’ve for Steve Jobs, but it’s too late now.) Anyway, I think I will miss Benedict XVI. He’s no JPII, but he was doing the best he could with all the issues he faced.

I even went to confession for the first time in over 15 years in Basilica Papale di San Pietro. The priest was very understanding and went easy on me.

Seafood Risotto the Way It Should Be

The awesome guys at Rosetta didn’t have this item on the menu, but they were more than happy to accommodate me. BTW, since none of the waiters at Rosetta batted an eyelash at my running shoes, hiking pants, down vest, and backpack, they more than made up for the douchey service I received at Cafeteria Antica Roma.

And I may never eat panna cotta outside of Italy ever again after tonight. It was light and creamy and not too sweet and I could’ve eaten a tub of it. And that’s saying something after a five (six?) course meal.