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PGA day (and, MC Days 2 & 3)

Yesterday the family (plus a friend for my stepson) went to see the PGA practice round at Hazeltine.  I am not sporty or golf-y in the least, but really enjoyed the afternoon.  We saw several big name golfers, watched them play various holes – it was most mazing to watch them tee off.  The ball makes a much different noise and goes high high in the air . . . you can really appreciate this IRL as opposed to watching on TV. 

This was my PGA outfit.  It was cute, but I would have felt more comfortable in some sort of sport or golf attire, and definitely tennis shoes:

As for my MC update – it was 90 degrees yesterday.  We walked several miles over the course of the afternoon.  I carried my little water bottle full of the MC lemonade all over the golf course, sipping occasionally, and did my best to soldier on!  (If you ever see some disoriented person wandering aimlessly, clutching a water bottle, please be kind as they are likely on the MC and have only brain stem functioning!)  

So far today (MC Day 3) feel pretty horrible – nauseous, headaches, and achy limbs – apparently this is due to toxins coming out of the body. My friend K is also doing the MC, however, in contrast, she has been business as usual, even went the gym yesterday, and aside from the desire to eat something crunchy, is absolutely fine.   Yikes, clearly I must be chock full of toxins . . . but 4 pounds lost!

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Wearing 8/11/09 (and, MC Day 1)

Here’s my work outfit today:

The high-waisted skirt was not so adorable IRL – imagine a belted sausage with legs, and furthermore, that this sausage is also wearing the J. Crew Contrast Stitch Perfect Shirt. After viewing self in mirror, particularly the horrible side view, was almost happy that I had agreed to start the Master Cleanse (“MC”) today with a friend.  (If unfamiliar with the MC, its basically a lemonade fast . . .)

Day 1 of MC has been pretty easy so far.  I even made my husband and stepson pancakes this morning (now a permanent, once a week, weekday ritual) and wasn’t tempted by their steamy sweet buttery goodness. Okay, maybe a little bit tempted, but did not succumb.  There is also enough maple syrup in just today’s MC lemonade for 3 or 4 breakfasts – difficult to justify cheating.  It’s now close to 5 p.m. and my stomach is rumbling a little bit, but I don’t feel hungry yet.   Have a class tonight, and will miss dinner with the boys, but probably am better off without watching them eat their pizza, giant burgers,  milk shakes, etc . . .

XO Debtonaire

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Taps

Been away for a while – up to my eyeballs in distressed assets.  My firm’s third (and final) hedge fund is on the rocks – two funds either went into liquidation earlier this year.  I keep looking for updside, and maybe the only upside is that I know to expect a maelstrom of bottom cycle activity, none all of which will be endured without anesthetic.  (Retail therapy anyone?)  Hope you are weathering the recessionary winds a bit better than I . . .

XO Debtonaire

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Payroll Report 3/6/09

Another edge-of-my-seat payroll cycle is completed – per online banking the cash is in my account!

XO Debtonaire

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Banana Regrets

I was pretty hard on Banana in my last post and feel the need to make it right.  In way do I mean to imply that Banana has done me wrong – to the contrary Banana was a spot-on supplier of professional wear (both back in the day and as recently as last Tuesday).  It also seems that any sort of weight/water/carbohydrate  fluxuation seems to bring me out of alignment with Bananas fit model, hence the troubles.  So, Banana, I am sorry – maybe its not you, its me . . . 

Additionally, spring surplus and subsequent deficit spending have achieved equilibrium – I spent less as a result of returning more  – including all the Banana loot (kept the shiny khaki skirt), a fantastic clearance priced Marni cotton frock, and black patent D&G sandals. 

XO Debtonaire

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New Header . . . again

Changed the header, again.  Due to the liquidation of the spring surplus and resulting shipments coming in over the next week or so, I am feeling all flush with retail therapy endorphins.  The old header – with the little red Chloe bag in the nuclear winter – was just too depressing . . .

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Analyst Class of 2009?

Last night I had a Horrible NIGHTMARE.  I do not typically dream, remember my dreams, or share them with others and generally rail against such things on principal– so thanks in advance for your indulgence in this regard.

In the nightmare, I found myself in the very plush offices of (get this) Wormwood Ltd., an investment bank where I had applied for (sweet mercy!) one of a handful of seats in the incoming corporate finance analyst class of 2009, due to begin training in June.  Reception escorted me to a classroom where a tall, muscular woman,  rather Germanic of feature and poured into a thankfully sturdy looking charcoal tweed skirt suit, was administering a ‘personality test’ to a group of approximately 25 prospective analysts.  Like me, these prospects had successfully navigated several rounds of grueling interviews – at this stage of the hiring process, the remaining candidates were fully vetted.  Final selection would come down to margins of suitability that earlier on would have been rounding errors.  The anxiety level among the candidates was palpable –we were all on high alert for signs of weakness in our competitors, or any variety of blood in the water.  The test itself resembled a chain restaurant menu (full-color high-gloss double-sided) and was oddly subjective – sections included dance-ability of popular music, ranking meals in order of deliciousness, etc.  The tester singled me out with concerns regarding my test taking method.  I had left the ‘deliciousness’ section, chronologically the first section of the test, until last.  She was concerned that I might be an abstract, circular thinker, and indicated Wormwood’s preference for linear types.  After testing, the class broke for lunch, and I flooded into the warm spring afternoon en masse with the other candidates.  I spied into one of my interviewers, a managing director of one of the industry groups, among the wrought iron tables in the Wormwood piazza, and proceeded to regale the poor guy (who was just trying to eat his sandwich) with an impassioned discourse on my unique suitability for a position in Wormwood’s analyst class because I had “done it all before, still knew all the analyses backwards and forwards”, and “had absolutely no ego problems stepping into an analyst role again” because, above all else, I was “looking for a solid cultural fit and growth opportunity”.  I think I was just about to spit shine the man’s shoes when, thank goodness, I woke up. 

 This dream was so vivid, right down to the Wormwood offices –from the modern art on the walls, blonde marble floors, wood molding so wide it was over halfway to wainscoting, to the personal details of the principals, the fabric of the suits, gorgeous glossy shoes, the tiny pink horseshoes on the rose silk Hermes necktie of the managing director, and the creamy thick stock Wormwood business cards which bore raised type and a hand-embossed logo of a massive gnarled tree.  It was all so real that I must confess to still being a bit shaken up and, frankly, mortified at my obsequious behavior.  Given my tenuous employ and the limited opportunities in the financial sector at large, what I would do if a real life “Wormwood opportunity” presented itself.  Clearly my subconscious is in anxiety-ridden Freudian overdrive (Wormwood? seriously now . . .), but is my situation truly so dire that I would position myself to toady against 22 year-old Ivys for the opportunity to once again crank out pitchbooks at 3 a.m.?  

XO Debtonaire

 

 

 

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