Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Assholes, Idiots and Morons and the Weekend

Why, you ask, do we have so many laws in this country? Because assholes abound, and we are infested with idiots and morons without manners (yes, I love alliteration.)

Listen and learn if you are one of these people. Commiserate with me if you are afflicted by them.

The asshole I am referring to today is the deaf twiddle who thinks I want to hear the crappy, banging, shit coming from his gangsta-wanna-be SUV. You just are not cool. You are an asshole.

The idiot who crossed my path nearly ran into me because she took her eyes off the road to shove her handsfree earpiece into her brainless skull. It means handsfree from you phone not from the steering wheel. You are an idiot.

The moron without manners strolled around the grocery store subjecting me to his side of his phone conversation. Take your private life home and chastise your wife about her troubles with the neighbors in private. You have no manners. You are a moron.

Phew, I feel better.

I am headed for the high hills. Tomorrow, I am off to the mountains for three full days of trees. I won’t be back until Monday afternoon. I am so looking forward to the piece and quiet. Falling asleep to a babbling brook. Shooting some arrows. Walking. Reading. Writing the old fashioned way. No computer. No Internet. Will I survive? Yes, I think I’ll manage. Write lots of good things for me to read when I get back. Have a great weekend everyone.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Da Vinci, Tarot and Past Lives

This is in response to Jenn's post. (Go read her posts. She writes beautifully.) My comments were getting too long and I had nothing else to write about, so now I have a post. Thanks, Jenn. Yippee.

I always thought as the perfect Human (and God, simultaneously) it would be ok for Jesus to be married and have children. My opinion is if you haven’t experienced sex, one of our more fundamental drives, how can you be fully human?

I did read The Da Vinci Code, but have not seen the movie yet. The book was an easy read and the entire plot and ending were predictable.

I had heard this idea many years ago, too. I read the Nag Hammadi texts maybe 20 years ago, along with books on the Essenes, Jesus studying Zoroastrianism, and studying in India and China during his “lost” years. Although fun and interesting, I don’t think any of it matters either.

A friend of mine wanted to learn to read Tarot cards. She didn’t want to go alone and since my great grandmother read cards, I said I’d go with her and learn, too. Well, my friend quit, I didn’t. So among my other talents, I read cards. I’ve discovered some very odd things about people while reading for them. The main benefit to me was that I began trusting my intuition again.

For a while, I got paid to read. Every Saturday, I’d go to this metaphysical bookstore and turn cards for customers; not a bad way to make extra cash for a single mom and I developed quite a following.

This one woman, let’s call her Betty (not her real name), was very addicted to all of the New Age stuff. She had her cards read a minimum of once a week, sometimes two and three (not by me, I wouldn’t read for any one more than once a month.) So, Betty had gone to a gypsy to have a reading for past life regression. Betty was beside herself with joy because it turns out that she was Marilyn Monroe reincarnated. I had the lovely duty of informing Betty, born in 1958, that she could not be Marilyn, as Marilyn died in 1962.

People who had pastlife regressions were always kings and queens. Popular ones were Cleopatra, Napoleon, Pharaohs, and the like. I had mine done. One of my lives went as follows: I was born to a peasant family in an area of the Black Forest in Germany around the 1200’s. There was famine, little work; we were homeless and traveling to find a better place. My parents had several other children. I wasn’t too bright so I was fed last. When food became almost non-existent, I was left by the side of the road and I starved to death at the age of eight. Glamorous, huh?

Sunday, May 21, 2006


As promised, I have entered a new segment to Elyria's story.

Show Me Sunday - Sundries

For those of you waiting with bated breath, Storytime will be updated later today. My husband and I had other things to do yesterday *wink, wink*.

Here's some of my fantastic photography for you.

Notice the frosty bottle of Bombay. This is why I must start behaving myself or start going to confession again. I can't go to hell. The Devil doesn't keep his gin in the freezer.

This is my work buddy, Oscar. He says nice things to me when I'm ready to stick the knife in my solar plexis and draw upwards.

This was my first rose. I can't take credit for it. But it's still mine, all mine.

And this is the shiny prezzie I bought myself last week. I like the glittery butterflies.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Friday's Five - Fulmination

The black, thick clouds matted the sky, blocking the light. Gray colored the day. The air carried an impending threat of rain. The deluge held off until I closed and locked my car door. I inched my way backward out of the driveway, praying other cars would have their headlights on, to give me some chance of sensing their presence.

Once on the road, the fast setting on the windshield wipers only served to make me nauseous. Their excessive whooshing back and forth caused seasickness, but no clear vision. I turned the speed down on the blades, and on my vehicle, allowing my tires to settle back on the road’s surface. Hydroplaning at seven in the morning sucks. Waves of water flash out from my wheels on the right side. I grip the steering wheel to maintain control.

Lightening flashed around me, attracted to the line of the river less than a mile away. Thunder clapped seconds later, screaming the nearness of its power. Up ahead, my field of vision expands to a sharp white light all around me. A fine pinpoint of electricity attacks the traffic light, setting off a sonic boom explosion, turning the read light black. Less than a second later, the thunder answers.

Ozone and burnt wires stink up the air even through the buckets of water pouring from the heavens. My heart and lungs throb from the currents ricocheting around the center of the action. The hair on my arms stands up in response and I shiver. My mouth dries up, my lips purse in tension. My neck muscles twist in chords. I can feel the adrenaline surging through my veins.

God, I love thunderstorms.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Thirsty Thursday - Thinking

It is time to map out the next phase of my life. I believe in making a plan, listing what I want and defining my goals. Whenever I’ve done this, I’ve gotten exactly what I’ve outlined. It requires work and careful thought. All aspects of an issue must be considered: who, what, where, when and how, oh, and why.

Since I have decided it is time to move on in my work life and since I know I won’t be going any where for at least four or five months, I have time to make some decisions. I think I’d like to change the industry I work in and maybe even the actual work I do. I also think I’m going to go for the more impersonalness of a big company, this time.

The last time I did this for work, nine years ago, I limited my requests, trying not to grasp too greedily at the world. I will attempt to be bolder this time around. It can’t hurt to dream. No one but myself (and you sweet readers) need know what I desire.

Let’s start by picking a date: I like October 15th, 2006. This allows the busy season to be over and gives me time to use all of my paid leave days. It is enough time to look, plan and take action.

Speaking of action: Time to rewrite my resume. That’s a positive action that can be taken now. It will help me feel like I’m doing something useful. It will also help me clarify my thoughts for that conversation I know I will need to have in the near future once I’ve calmed down a bit. I’ve begun by starting a list of tasks I do. He’s going to need to hire a couple of people to replace me.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

Wednesday's Child - Is Full of Woe

I’m going to be babbling, so I ask your forgiveness in advance.

It’s a terrible thing to be unappreciated, as I’m sure you will all agree.

My boss does not appreciate me. I have worked for him for over nine years. I currently handle, among many other things, payroll. Today, he gave a raise, to my exact salary, to a woman who has no education other than a couple of semesters at college. She is our bookkeeper. She didn’t know anything about bookkeeping, until I taught her. She works fewer hours than I do. She is 20 years younger than I am, so has 20 years less experience. When she encounters anything new, she still has to ask me how to do it. She is very nice and I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve her raise. I don’t begrudge her the money. I’m happy for her.

What has upset me is that I should be paid more and I am not. I have a BA in Elementary Education, with a minor in Art. I have a Computer Programmer Certificate. I am a Certified DER. I am the only employee he has who has consistently learned, on my own, how to do every new task that has come across my desk. I have over 30 years of varied experience in the business world. I write letters to lawyers that back them off. I have written employee manuals that are better than ones written by trained individuals. I routinely give my boss advice that is right on and would save him thousands if he’d listen to me right away. During my last review, he asked if I didn’t think I made enough money.

I have talked to him about this. His response was that the company was not making enough money to give me another worthy raise.

So, here I am. Sad. On the verge of tears. Ready to quit, NOW!

But I can’t. I have responsibilities at home. I will keep my mouth shut and quietly look for another job. He will know that I’m not happy, because he’s not stupid, just delusional. I’m pretty sure he’s on drugs, whether prescription or otherwise (another story.) I am definitely not happy. I really like the people I work with for the first time in my entire life, but the company is too small and my pride too hurt to put up with this.

I know he is not my friend and I’m taking it too personally, but I do. I’m not a very good self-promoter. I feel he should see and know my worth after all these years without me having to badger him to get what I deserve. Nothing pisses me off more than being taken for granted. Nothing. When that happens, I am done.

And as has happened in previous situations, I will get a call after I’ve left, telling me how wrong he was to treat me so, but I will have moved on and he will no longer matter to me.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Too True Tuesday – In Case You Ever Wondered

Sue was at home yesterday with her 17 year old daughter, Mary. They live in attached rental condos. New neighbors were moving in next door. At some point, she was at her window looking out and heard a crunch, and saw her new neighbor’s car hit Sue’s husband’s car. Sue goes outside to see what happened. At this point, she sees the damage is not bad and plans on not making a big deal out of it until:

1. Two adults climb out of the back seat of the car and high tail it,

2. The driver appears young,

3. The driver says when confronted that she did not hit Sue’s car, the damage was already there,

4. Sue asks to see the girl’s permit, and the girl replies, “You want to see my permanent?”

5. When the girl’s mother arrives after Sue had the girl get her, the mother replies in clear English, “Oh, the damage is not bad, we’ll take care of it.” And tries to send her daughter away,

6. Sue asks mom, “Where’s your daughter’s permit?” Mom says, “She’s only 11.”

Now, Sue calls the police.

When the police arrive, so do about 30 people who claim to be relatives of mom: men, women and children. Also, mom can no longer speak English.

No one knows who owns the car. The girl claims she was the only person in the car (besides the two adults that ran away, the girl’s younger brother and their dog were in the car, too.) Mom is playing the “I don’t understand, I’m a poor foreigner” card. All of the bystanders, who are not witnesses, are confusing the matter by conversing in their native tongue. And while Sue is trying to sort things out, three grown men, related to mom, are giving Mary the eye and licking their lips at her.

When we were growing up, we were taught that it was rude to speak another language in front of people that couldn’t understand. Whether we were here or in Germany, we spoke the language of the host country or we waited until we were alone to speak to each other. In case you ever wondered: people are suspicious of people when they can’t understand them.

In case you ever wondered: eleven year olds are not allowed to drive cars in this country. We tend to frown on that. And if thirty people can arrive when the police show up, can’t thirty people watch your kid? Oh, that’s right, you had two adults watching her, they just didn’t have the balls to stick around, when, as one might imagine, an accident happened.

In case you ever wondered: you’ve already got the selfish, “I’m out for only me” attitude, so welcome to the US, you should fit right in.

Monday, May 15, 2006

Monday's Madness - The End Times

On May 31, 2006, life as we know it will cease on this planet. Yes, folks, the End Times are truly here. I know many people before me have made such statements, but they didn’t have my predictive powers. They were charlatans, scam artists, or deluded individuals. I alone know what the future brings.

All of the signs are plain and clear: severe weather conditions, radical climatic changes, people killing each other, loose morals, famine, epidemics and my hangnail, all things that have never happened before. Other people have based their prognostications on dreams, visions and voices they heard in the night. I, on the other hand, had a feeling, a really strong one and it occurred at the same time I got a paper cut. It was then that I knew my life was over. The feeling of impending doom grew as I worried that little slice in my finger.

For those of you that do not believe in God and an afterlife, I suggest you go bungee jumping and have sex with as many people as you can in the next 16 days.

Anyone who is not sure, but doesn’t want to take any chances of offending a possible Almighty One, send me all of your money and I will use it to support my favorite charity (yes, it’s me, duh.)

All of you true believers out there, you have just enough time to be nice to your kids, go announce your sins on the street corners and then wait for the spaceship that will take you to God.

I chose May 31st, 2006 as the last day of human existence because I am going on vacation from Friday, May 26th through Tuesday, May 30th. Wednesday is my first day back at work and that can only be considered a horrible disaster.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Saturday's Storytime

I managed to reach all of my goals this week. Storytime has a new entry. I walked every morning with my puppy before going to work. I did my 250 word minumum each day. And I also did all of the things on my many to do lists.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. Best wishes to all you Muthas out there. We are off to my brother's house for a little get together. I'm making cucumber salad and brownies.

I got a new kitchen garbage can.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Friday's Five - Poetry

What do I spy with my little eye?
Oh, no, a silly game, I hear you sigh.
It’s something you just can’t buy,
A clear and blue and sunny sky.

What sound reaches my cauliflower ear?
My questions are getting weirder I fear.
Why I’m doing this isn’t clear,
But “I’m comin’ up” is the song I hear.

What morsel passed my greedy lips?
And took away my zippers’ zips.
It travel directly to my hips,
Try lovely, tasty, sirloin tips.

What tidbit landed under my sneaky nose?
It caused petals to fall from my rose
And the shades on my windows to close.
My neighbor does things with his garden hose.

What occurrence gets under my thin skin?
And puts my brain in a tizzy and spin.
I’m sure getting so upset is a major sin,
But, I can’t open up my bottle of gin.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Thirsty Thursday - A Cautionary Tale

She made an appointment with a diet doctor in the city. He came highly recommended. He prescribed a regime of amphetamines and barbiturates guaranteed to help her lose weight. She weighed thirty pounds over the “ideal” weight for her height. She had no idea that real men loved women with curves. All she saw when she looked in the mirror was fat.

She started on the course of pills the doctor had given her. She took four pink ones first thing in the morning before breakfast. Then, she swallowed three green at lunchtime and popped two yellow ones just before dinnertime. The six white pills she took before bed made her body sleep.

Man, she felt good: strong and full of energy. The weight dropped off. The cost of the program took all of her spare cash and then some, but this was worth it. Besides, she was saving money on food since she barely ate.

About two weeks into the process, she stopped taking the white sleeping pills. Under regular circumstances, her dreams were full of light, color and excitement. Now, great, giant dragons followed her in the night and huge spiders stalked the landscape.

After a full week of not eating or sleeping, people at her job told her she talked to herself. This was just another price she was willing to pay for perfection. They didn’t understand. What was a psychotic break compared to a svelte figure?

Now that she lost all of the weight she wanted, she was very popular. She went out one night drinking until the regular clubs closed. Then, it was on to the all night club where she continued to drink and dance the night away.

When they closed at six in the morning, everyone went to the diner for breakfast. She could eat a horse and pretty much did.

She drove herself and a friend home. Her friend was cold and tired, so they rolled the windows up, turned the heat on and the radio off.

Next thing she knew, she heard screaming. At first, she thought the screams came from her head, but then she saw her friend running up and down the highway calling for help, yelling she was dead. For some reason, she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to move. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

“Did you have anything to drink, tonight?” The police officer asked. He just wanted to know, no one got DUI’s back then.

“Yes, sir. We were out partying all night.”

“How do you feel?”

“Tired. I want to sleep.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“Yeah, I hit the back of a bread truck.”

The emergency technicians stopped strapping her to the gurney. The policemen looked at her oddly. Then, they all started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” She didn’t get it.

Gasping for breath between guffaws, the policeman informed her, “Yeah, you hit a bread truck all right. You ran into the back of a Wells Fargo Armored Car.”

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Wednesday's Child - A Savior

My daughter was born on a Friday. She is loving and giving. Her love for me gave me back my life. I had a few crises of the soul when I was younger. I seemed to always trip over my own two feet. Dead-end, mediocre, menial jobs occupied my financial life. I partied every off minute and lead a debauched existence.

My daughter’s father entertained me with amusing, witty stories. Is there a better reason to have a relationship with someone? Back then I didn’t think so. That man could weave a yarn. Pie in the sky tales, funny, sarcastic jokes, wild dreams and promises of castles in the sky that we would build together.

He lived in Canada. I even visited him there early in our relationship and I continued with him after discovering he lived with a friend in his friend’s apartment and he had no car. I believed all of the stupid reasons for his situation. I knew better even then but thought so poorly of myself that I ignored my better judgment. Neither of us were children at this point. I was twenty-seven when I got pregnant, he was (brace yourself) forty-four.

I moved to Canada. We lived with his friend. I couldn’t work. The Canadian economy wasn’t too great and they didn’t want to hire an American. The only car we had was mine. I ended up being stuck in Niagara Falls bored out of my mind, pregnant and with a bunch of unfulfilled promises. The last straw for me (six months pregnant) was when he wouldn’t go to work because he wanted to go bowling. I finally woke up.

I wrote a note saying bye. I packed my car up and moved back to Jersey and never looked back.

Tuesday, May 09, 2006

Too True Tuesday - A Boy Named Sue

I remember someone from High School. I didn’t know this person, except to see her in the hallways, but she fascinated me to no end.

In 1975, I graduated from High School at the age of seventeen. I hated High School, so I took the accelerated program that allowed me to get out a year early. My new graduating class had 1,200 students in it, 990 of which actually made it out the traditional way. I didn’t know anyone, except by sight. I just marked the days until I could leave.

One person I saw on occasion was a senior boy named Sue*. He was a light skinned black boy, with long brown hair, long painted artificial fingernails, a bright shiny lip-glossed mouth, a tight skinny ass, long, long legs and budding boobs. Now, when I say my school didn’t rate high on the progressive scale, I think most of you will know what I mean. This was 1975 after all and the suburbs.

Sue sashayed around the halls, giggling with the cheerleaders and flirting with the football players. She had the classic, overblown Queen gestures you see in movies, only her drag looked more natural. Her teachers loved her, she always had a huge smile on her face and people flocked around her. That is what I find amazing to this day. No one ever beat her up, pushed her around or called her names, despite the fact that she was completely different from anything any of us had ever known.

I always wonder what happened to her. Her parents gave her a sex change operation for a graduation present.

*Not his real name.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Show Me Sunday - Redneck City

My outhouse.

My backyard bar.

My still. Yes, this is a whiskey still. We found it buried in the backyard this weekend, when we rearranged the fenceline. There's got to be $80 of copper tubing in that trashcan.

Monday's Madness - Me

I am mad. I am mad at myself. I am mad because I can't manage to follow a plan for one lousy week. I am mad because I am so out of shape, that a little manual labor wore me out so much that I couldn’t follow my plan. I am mad because I did not write all last week on Storytime, so I didn’t have a post ready for Saturday. I am mad because my focus is poor, my determination lax, and my drive over, my zip done du da-ed.

And before all of you lovely sympathetic people start telling me not to be too hard on myself, I say don’t. I deserve it. I am always finding ways to put off what I should be doing. I have a million excuses to give myself to rationalize doing it another day.

I am not hard enough on myself. I plan, I make notes, I have a million and one schedules, to do lists and post it notes. I ignore them when it is convenient for me. I spend all of my time planning, researching, and thinking. All excuses for not doing what I tell myself I want to do.

If I say I want to write, why then do I not write? Why do I allow the laundry and plants get in my way? My husband thinks I am talking to my trans-sexual boyfriend. Why do I allow that to distract me? (Well, that is pretty amusing.) Now, he’s giving my ear a Wet Willy. See how easily I’m distracted? I have no discipline.

Friday, May 05, 2006

Friday's Five

I listen to John Tesh on morning radio as I drive to work each day. Besides music that eases me into the day (I’m not a morning person), he has “Intelligence For Your Life.”

One morning, he said to boost creativity you should break small habits each day to get your mind out of its rut and take it for a stroll. So, that’s what Friday’s Five is going to be about. Five new things I did this week and five new things I’m going to do next week based on the five senses. One sense concentrated on each day and the honing of my observational skills.

Sound – ears – I drove home every day with the radio off and the window open. My front driver’s side wheel squeaks. My tires squeal as I go around corners. I heard every kind of music from the other cars on the road: rap, country, classical, classic rock, head banging stuff. The whooshing sound when cars passed by me was different than the whooshing sound when I passed them, and different again if we were all moving. And the lawnmower cars crack me up. Those little souped up cars that sound like high-strung miniature poodles.

Sight – eyes – Tuesday, I drove a new way to work. I saw a Jewish temple, a Presbyterian church and an AME church, which apparently is an African Methodist Episcopal church. Seedpods and flower petals flew through the air like confetti. A huge, two million-dollar home sat between small, single story homes in a fifty-year-old residential neighborhood. The builder had included a seven-foot white barricade style fence all around it. Talk about a white elephant. I wondered how long the For Sale sign had been up. The front lawn grass needed mowing.

Taste – mouth – Wednesday, I ate a Twinkie. I love Twinkies. It must be over a year since I’ve had one. The vanilla cake was spongy, soft and moist. The filling was the perfect amount of sweet, so I didn’t get a headache. And underlying the light, creamy taste was a bit of salt.

Touch – skin – The breezes this week have been heavenly. Cool, clear and clean, they caressed my skin, sometimes encouraging goosebumps on my arms. I’d be sitting on my livingroom chaise when a kiss of air would touch the nape of my neck.

Smell – nose – I’ve noticed that most of the time, on the surface at least, the smells around me are neutral. Unless I try hard, I can not distinguish different smells. Then, a repairman walked into my office and I couldn’t breath because I was so overwhelmed by body odor, sweat and unwashed clothes. The stench lingered for an half-hour, hovering in my doorway where he stood. I feared passing through the portal, envisioning faint yellow molecules attaching to me.

Next week, I will explore an onion using all five senses.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

Thirsty Thursday

It’s Thirsty Thursday. Normally, this means going out to a bar and getting drunk. And while I’ve now had four glasses of wine, today Thirsty Thursday will refer to the things for which I thirst and what I am doing to quench my thirst.

Jenn at As I Was Passing was talking about the Chicken Soup For The Soul series of books. I went out and got the one on how to achieve your dreams.

The first thing they talk about is stating what you want and to do it without limitations.

So, here we go, installment one (I want lots):

I want to earn a living that will allow me to support my entire family by working for myself as a writer, artist and craftsperson. I want to be able to set my own hours, my own schedule, my own terms. I want many novels on the NY Times Best Seller list. I want shows in Art Galleries. I want to make tons of money. I want to be bigger than J.K. Rowling. (I’m pouring another glass of wine, hold on…you can start breathing again, I didn’t spill any. Oh, and Smoking Loon, Merlot, 2004 California, is a frisky little tart.)

The second thing you do, is plan the small steps that get you where you want to be. So, here are some of the things I am doing now:

I will write a minimum of 250 words a day. I have also chosen some topics which I will loosely follow to gain writing momentum.

On Saturday, I will post a minimum of 1,000 words to Storytime. Storytime is my tool to show myself I can finish a long story and also to write without my sensor, that disgusting, annoying ass that keeps telling me what to do and not do all of the time. In the words of Serra “Fuck Off and Die.”

I am setting up my home office. A space just for me, where I can leave everything out, instead of cleaning up and taking out and boring myself with keeping things neat. I want to be able to walk in my house, go to my room and just pick up a project where I left off. Yeah, baby.

Ooo, Ooo, Ooo and I’m doing that thing where you cut out pictures and make an “I want” poster/collage. I’ll take a picture when it’s done.

So, that’s Want Number One. I will do more next Thursday. I must finish my wine and watch Manson’s Women.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Mother Goosed Me

I imagine most of you have heard this nursery rhyme by Mother Goose:

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child born on the Sabbath Day,
Is fair and wise and good and gay.

I was born on a Thursday. I want to know what it means to “have far to go.”

Do I get depressed thinking about the long slog my life will be? Will every step I take be an illusion of forward motion? When I take one step forward I will be pushed two steps back. I can picture myself clawing my way up an icy slope, digging my nails in to keep from falling, only to have my nails break off painfully and I slip and slide my way down to the bottom, back to the beginning. If a depressed mood hung over my head today, I might be tempted along those lines.

But I always hated Mother Goose anyway. If I liked duck, I’d cook her for dinner (yes, I know a duck and a goose are birds of a different feather, ok.) I could say, “I’d like to cook her goose for trying to comdemn me to a life of perpetual peddling to catch up.” Fuck that Bool Shite!

To me it means I have unlimited potential for all things good. Like (said in Valley Girl accent) I can go from one wonderful vacation destination to the next without end. I dare to dream without reservation. I yearn to strive for goals beyond my limited needs. I use the bottomless gifts I have within myself.

**ack, ack, ack** Sorry, I was choking on goose down.

Tuesday, May 02, 2006

Too True Tuesday

We hired a new office employee. She started on Monday. She’s quite cute. About five foot three, twenty-seven years old, short brown hair cute in a bob slanting towards her chin, lovely pouty mouth, big brown eyes and big boobs. She’s one of those rare brunette bimbos. Nice girl and smarter than she first appears.

Each day, she sits with a different employee every few hours, to become acclimated to our environment and learn how each job relates to all of the others. She’s done some computer work, such as entering time card hours in an excel spreadsheet to keep track of operations’ overtime. She’s called some customers to confirm delivery times. She’s seen mega forms and paperwork for our highly regulated business. All in all she’s seen a lot in two days and she keeps smiling. A good sign.

Late this afternoon, she sat with one of our customer service reps, waiting for calls to come in to see the start of a sales transaction, you know, basically waiting for five o’clock to arrive. They chatted, getting to know each other.

Old employee: “This is my MySpace.” (Yeah, we know it goes on. It’s our slow time of the year.)

They look for a while.

Old employee: “Do you have a site?”

New employee: “Yeah, the address is ______.” (I don’t know it. the person telling me this story had a hard time getting it out between hysterical laughter.)

They go to new employee’s MySpace.

New employee is Bi-sexual.

As my husband would say (if his lips weren’t still super-glued together from last night), “That doesn’t make her a bad person. Oh and ah, can you bring her home?”

Monday, May 01, 2006

Monday's Madness - PMS

I was having a great day. The weather today expressed itself in perfection. I kept my cursing of fellow drivers to a minimum. The new clerk I hired actually showed up. We had a few good laughs at work, you know, because on Mondays people are just brain dead. We told our boss he’s not allowed to talk to the new hire for two weeks, so she doesn’t get scared and quit. He laughed, instead of firing us. I called the customer who left me the nasty voice mail, including curses and yelling, and he managed to stay calm so I didn’t have to climb through the phone and slit his throat. I ran my lunch time errands without any glitches. The traffic on the way home parted for me, like the Red Sea before the Israelites. I was beginning to lament a topic for today’s. Until I talked to Hubby on the phone before I got home.

Men get PMS. The Pissy Male Syndrome. I never heard one person bitch as much as he can once he gets started. And it’s the same thing over and over again. Where are these husbands that don’t talk to their wives? I want one. I can’t get mine to shut the fuck up.

“The leaves keep falling on the pool cover.”

“I have to go to New York tomorrow, I hate driving in New York.”

“Your daughter’s car has a flat tire. When will she start taking care of herself?”

“I’m not opening the pool until the things stop falling.”

“My beer is frozen.”

“I just cleaned the pool cover a couple of days ago.”

“Plus, she was two quarts low in oil.”

“And I don’t think the fan is working in her car.”

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, dear.” Shoot me now.

“Did you get bread today?”


“When is she going to take care of her stuff. Have you seen her room? There are piles of clothes everywhere.”

Oh, my God, please save me.

“You’re not listening to me.”

“I have to go into New York, tomorrow.”

“I’m going to bed.”

Yes, there is a God. See I told you.