This is a prime example of why I don't like my new office:

I was in the lunchroom making my lunch -- a nice, regular-size salad, with lettuce, olives, and slices of ham and cheese, with some low-fat ranch dressing. There were about six other people in the room at the time.

From across the room, some idiot yells out, "That's a mighty big salad you got there. You gonna eat all that?"

Seriously? Is that necessary? Why are you: 1) looking at my lunch, and 2) commenting on it. Do I even know you? Do I even want to know you? Sort of, and no.

Another instance: My cell phone rings. A passerby announces, rather loudly, "Your cell phone is ringing." No shit, Sherlock. You're kidding me? That's what that noise is. I thought it was my biological clock going off.

Arrrrrrghhhhh.

Only someone from Spain can get away with this:

You know you're from Spain if...

Your mother or grandmother has Maria in her name.
Your father or grandfather is called Manuel (Manolo), Jose, Antonio or Juan.
You decorate your walls with plates.
Your house is a mini church with just as may statues of saints and Jesus as your church itself.
You're 25 and still living with your parents. (Extra points if you're married and living with your spouse in your parents' house.)
You baptize your child and send him to catechism, even though you might never go to church except for weddings and funerals.
You park on the sidewalk when necessary, even asking the person standing there to please move away.
You have a mother or grandmother who wears black.
You spend your holidays in Portugal instead of in Spain because it is cheaper.
Your parents own, like, nine houses in Spain but complain about the lack of money in the States.
Going to Spain involves buying gifts for all 500 members of your family.
You go crazy for soccer.
You have grape vines in your backyard.
You earned over $10,000 for your first communion.
A barbeque does not consist of burgers on the grill. Can you say "sardines"?
A wooden spoon equals discipline, or if you ever had to duck so you wouldn't get hit with flying shoes.
Your parents anticipate that you'll marry your first long-term boyfriend/girlfriend.
Your 15-year-old brother is allowed to have two girls sleep over, but your 19-year-old sister can't go out past 7 p.m.
You think that 2 a.m. is too early to go to bed and that 11 a.m. is too early to get out of bed.
Your grandmother tells you look sick because you are too thin. (I wish! -- MD)
Your parents make you eat three servings of dinner at each sitting, otherwise they think you don't like the cooking.
You have ever used your nose or lips to point something out.
You've ever dropped food on the floor, picked it up, ate it after saying, "Lo que no mata engorda."
You've been hit by a zapatilla.
People tell you to stop screaming when you're really just talking.
Whenever you're angry, you spout off a torrent of "coño", "mierda" and "carajo."
Your mother yells at the top of her lungs to call you to dinner, and you're in the next room.
If you just can't imagine anyone not liking Spanish food.
If you've been in a two-passenger car with over seven people in it, with a person shouting, "Entrar, que caben mas!"
If you have at least 30 cousins.
If you start clapping when your plane lands on the runway.
If you say crazy things like, "Me cago en dios."
You can't leave a party without taking home a plate of food.
Your grandma makes you put on slippers because walking around barefooted will make you get sick.
You need that piece of cake before you leave the party.
You go to a birthday party and your friends that couldn't go are asking you to bring them back some food.
Your mom/tia/abuelita has a ceramic elephant on the living room table.

Que via España!

Went to another NJYP event on Saturday. This time, it was an "unofficial" event, and it was so much better than the first one.

For starters, everyone was super-nice. I felt as if I'd known them longer than just having met them. They also agreed that some of the events are meat markets, especially the ones in Hoboken. I'll probably stay away from those in the future.

The event was at Fratelli's Bistro in Bayonne, which just opened up. The place is really nice! There are two bars, a dance floor and a live band on weekends. It's a good crowd, too.

But I got a bone to pick: I take the Light Rail to work every morning, and there are some mighty-fine Hotty McHottertons on that train. So where are they? They obviously live in Bayonne, since that's where the Light Rail starts and where I catch it. So where are these guys hanging out? How come I never see these Hotty McHottertons around town? I gotta start scoping this out. It's like the racecar has started but the track is closed. Not good, people.

On another note, I still haven't sold my house. Sigh. If you know anyone in the market for a really cute house in Suffolk County, send 'em my way!

I went to my first NJYP mixer last night. Three words: hor-ri-ble.

First of all, I was the first one there (natch), and it turns out the evening's host is a journalist who uses my company's service. So we talked about the service for about 15 minutes before the next person showed up. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't necessarily want to talk about work when I'm not at work. There are so many more interesting topics to talk about -- like root canals, colonoscopies, third-world hunger.

Second of all, it wasn't so much a networking social as it was a meat market. Yes, any time you put women and men together in the same place, especially a bar, that will happen. But I was hoping for something more along friendship lines, introductions to other people. We were pretty much left on our own. Hello? If I didn't have trouble going up to people and introducing myself to them, I wouldn't need the NJYP, okay?

Third, the bartender stole my money. Ok, it was only $4, but still ... I bought a diet coke, and left the change next to my purse, and after a couple of minutes, the change was gone. Now, I'm not a bad tipper; I always leave at least 20 percent. But 400 percent?!? Um, no. I don't care if you are really cute.

But I am not giving up hope. I will march on. There's another gathering tomorrow in Bayonne, so I'm going to go anyway. It'll probably suck, but hey, let's be realistic here -- what else have I got to do?

Two book recommendations:

"The Kite Runner," Khaled Hosseini's novel about a young Afghan boy, Amir, as he faces the challenges that confront him on the path to manhood.

"Night," Elie Wiesel's memoir of his experiences during the Holocaust. It's the current Oprah's Book Club pick.

Up next: "Case Histories" by Kate Atkinson, picked as one of the year's best by Stephen King in his Entertainment Weekly column.

I saw "Brokeback Mountain" this weekend -- one of the most beautiful, touching, profound, heartbreaking movies I have ever seen, and probably will likely ever see.

Y'all know what the movie is about, so I won't recap. I will say that it's one of those movies that leaves an impact long after you see it.

I've always been fairly liberal, and have never understood why homosexuality is so looked-down on. I mean, it's hard enough to find love, so when people do, what does it matter what their sexual orientation is? But I defy those who are against it to see this movie and not be moved. It truly is one of the most beautiful love stories on film. The fact that it's between two men doesn't change that.

I thought Heath Ledger was excellent as "Ennis." But Jake Gyllenhaal was absolutely amazing as "Jack," who is more comfortable with his sexuality and more willing to live out in the open. It's a damn shame that they couldn't.

Whichever way you feel about the issue, I implore you to see the movie. If it doesn't change your opinion, it will at least humanize it.

Things are looking up. Ok, maybe it's more like sideways, but it's better than down, right?

So I joined New Jersey Young Professionals. I know, I know -- I'm not young. But I am professional (I think), and they didn't have a New Jersey Semi-Young, Sort-of-Old Professionals group, so...

Anyhoo, I posted a note on the message board, saying I was back in NJ after a few years away, and was interested in making new connections. The next day, I had about 25 e-mails from other members, welcoming me to the group and encouraging me to go to the events.

So I'm going to my first event next week -- a mixer in Hoboken. I'm going alone, so it should be interesting. I'm sure I'll spend about five minutes avoiding all eye contact, because that's what I do, and then walk out. Hey, but at least I'm going.

This year, it's all about making myself do things I'm not fully comfortable doing. Up next: milking a cow. Just kidding!

It's the end of my second week in Jersey ... Here's what I did this week:

Monday: Woke up, went to work, came home, ate dinner, went to sleep.
Tuesday: Woke up, went to work, came home, ate dinner, went to sleep.
Wednesday: Woke up, went to work, came home, ate dinner, went to sleep.
Thursday: Woke up, went to work, came home, ate dinner, went to Target (yay!), came home again, went to sleep.

Frankly, I am bored out of my gourd. I know I went through this stage when I moved to Long Island five years ago. There was nothing for me to do yet, I didn't really know anyone, all I did is shop. But it's so frustrating! I know that, in the grand scheme, I should shut up, cuz I got it pretty good. But ugh, I am going to fall into a coma if I don't come up with something to do!

Things I'm thinking about: piano lessons, cooking lessons, going back to finish my Master's, finding a local community theater. All sound good, but I can't get motivated to actually start. I'm stuck in one long-ass rut. I need someone to slap me and say, "Snap out of it!" (Any takers? The line forms to your right ...)

I mean, I'm just plum excited I've got an appointment to highlight my hair next Saturday. Yipee! Something different to do! It's a sad day in Maria-land, my friends, when the most excitement I've got lined up is to sit in a chair while some supposedly straight guy puts foils and chemicals in my hair.

That's it. I'm doing something about it. I'm going to start researching classes right now. If not right now, then definitely later, or this weekend, or early next week. Yeah, definitely by the end of next week...

Well, it's been my first full week in New Jersey. If I had written this yesterday afternoon, I'd have two words: "This sucks." But one small event changed everything -- my company's holiday party last night. (Yes, it's a holiday party after the holidays. If it means we get our bonus, I'll deal.)

I caught up with some old friends from whom I'd drifted apart. And I met some new people that look promising for friendship. And I got assurances from my old pals that they would actually make me leave my house, and not just sit around watching TV, which I'm wont to do. There was also a Hotty McHotterton, but that's all I'll say for now.

So bring on 2006! I'm ready for it ... now.