1)Finish my review of Eragon and sent to my editor
2)Exercise asap when I get home
3)Go to Night at the Museum Wed
4)Write notes for review
5)Set up home owners insurance & switch car ins. to same company
6)Get mortgage papers and fill out with loan officer and the boy
7)Get some food in the house
8)Start packing small stuff I don't need
9)Get more boxes
10)Call mom & tell her we found a house, bid on it and got it
11)Finish filing all those pages I rip outta magazines & print off the internet
12)Finally read the last two Sandman volumes
13)Post some stuff to flickr
14)Set up a budget dammit
15)Work on screenplay again
16)See about working at Sundance, SXSW and CineVegas
17)Formulate more interesting blog posts
18)Join Film Independent by 12/15
19)Stop coughing and having a sore throat
20)Donate $ somewhere
21)See what's left to buy of Christmas gifts
22)Wrap stuff
23)Make tea cakes for Mrs Nichols
24)Make cookies for me, because I deserve them
25)Stop getting in the bed after midnight already
26)Fill out paperwork to take house closing day off work
27)Consider decorative options for the walls at new house
28)See if I can get $ back from FedEx
29)Get refund from Newport News
30)List more stuff on Half.com
Wow, I'm already thinking of ways to pretend I don't need to do 90% of this stuff.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Monday, December 11, 2006
Hmmmm, And Now...?
Ok, so I had this whole post planned out yesterday about how the boy and I put a bid on a house after he made one decision and then got all confused and frustrated again five minutes after I called our realtor and told her we were doing one thing and had to call her back and tell her another, right? Well that's not even news now, cause now? Now, internet? THE BOY AND I HAVE ACTUALLY REALLY BOUGHT A HOUSE.
I got so very little done today with all the talking to the realtor and faxing stuff to sign and signing and getting ahold of the boy to get his fax number and calling the mortgage man and having him call me back and learning FHA would kinda screw us so we needed to go conventional and finding out Ms. Realtor made an appointment for our inspection this weekend and it'll cost $358. That, and I'm gonna have to pony up my last two months rent (aka $900 I don't have) to get outta the lease.
I feel too rushed to be happy or excited right now. I need to cash in some vacation days to pay for my rent. I have to get our utilities switched over. We need to talk to his folks, who are holding onto an inheritance we're using to pay for some of this, about the cash for that damned expensive inspection. And there's like 50 million other things to do.
Did I mention I feel like I need to throw up? Or that I have the smell of fear about my person?
Holy shit, internet. Throw a few good vibes by me and the boy. We is so gonna need 'em.
I got so very little done today with all the talking to the realtor and faxing stuff to sign and signing and getting ahold of the boy to get his fax number and calling the mortgage man and having him call me back and learning FHA would kinda screw us so we needed to go conventional and finding out Ms. Realtor made an appointment for our inspection this weekend and it'll cost $358. That, and I'm gonna have to pony up my last two months rent (aka $900 I don't have) to get outta the lease.
I feel too rushed to be happy or excited right now. I need to cash in some vacation days to pay for my rent. I have to get our utilities switched over. We need to talk to his folks, who are holding onto an inheritance we're using to pay for some of this, about the cash for that damned expensive inspection. And there's like 50 million other things to do.
Did I mention I feel like I need to throw up? Or that I have the smell of fear about my person?
Holy shit, internet. Throw a few good vibes by me and the boy. We is so gonna need 'em.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Just A Letter
Dearest Person Who Used the Bathroom Before Me,
Thank you for reiterating several points I (and probably not you) learned as a wee babe:
1) Always look closely at the toilet prior to sitting down
2) Use toilet paper
3) Flush the damn toilet
4) Wash your hands...with soap & water as warm as you can stand
5) Never flush with your foot while wearing flip flops (because nobody wants to hop out of a boardwalk bathroom with one shoe)
As none of these issues seem to be on your mind, I trust you're having a fine and trouble free life before burning to crispy-fried goodness in hell.
Thank you. Goodnight.
Thank you for reiterating several points I (and probably not you) learned as a wee babe:
1) Always look closely at the toilet prior to sitting down
2) Use toilet paper
3) Flush the damn toilet
4) Wash your hands...with soap & water as warm as you can stand
5) Never flush with your foot while wearing flip flops (because nobody wants to hop out of a boardwalk bathroom with one shoe)
As none of these issues seem to be on your mind, I trust you're having a fine and trouble free life before burning to crispy-fried goodness in hell.
Thank you. Goodnight.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Crunch Time
Unfortunately this post is not about all the sit-ups I've been doing. The boy and I are trying to buy a house.
He has been surprisingly animated about the whole thing. I'd been led to believe that guys wouldn't really get into the whole "this one looks good" thing. My boy, though, is all over this. So much so that left to his own devices he ran our realtor.com picks up to 45 houses. Honestly, that was just insane. True, he was picking cheap and well updated place. But they were HU-NORMOUS. I'm talking 6 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, three floor housing extravaganzas. Internet, I had to reign him in.
Now, after two weekends of go-sees we've narrowed it to a nice field of 8 we're making appointments to see the inside of. We did most of our neighborhood house stalking in the dark because of that damned daylight savings time. One positive thing about that is we got to see how well lit these areas were, and if people seemed comfortable outside after dark.
Now that the boy is guided, he's picked sensible places. No mare than 2 bedrooms & bathrooms. I seriously don't know who the hell he thought was going to clean 5 toilets. We all know it wasn't going to be me, right?
We're trying to get our move on by the end of February when my lease is up. I realize that technically it wouldn't have made any sense to start looking earlier than this month, but I feel kinda rushed now. Is that normal? And what about all the fees and stuff? I have a feeling we're not planning for some financial burden with this house buying thing. I'd hate for us to commit ourselves and think we've got it all covered and then realize we're up the creek because we forgot about one little thing that costs a few grand to take care of before we can move in.
Any suggestions? Ideas? Advice?
He has been surprisingly animated about the whole thing. I'd been led to believe that guys wouldn't really get into the whole "this one looks good" thing. My boy, though, is all over this. So much so that left to his own devices he ran our realtor.com picks up to 45 houses. Honestly, that was just insane. True, he was picking cheap and well updated place. But they were HU-NORMOUS. I'm talking 6 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, three floor housing extravaganzas. Internet, I had to reign him in.
Now, after two weekends of go-sees we've narrowed it to a nice field of 8 we're making appointments to see the inside of. We did most of our neighborhood house stalking in the dark because of that damned daylight savings time. One positive thing about that is we got to see how well lit these areas were, and if people seemed comfortable outside after dark.
Now that the boy is guided, he's picked sensible places. No mare than 2 bedrooms & bathrooms. I seriously don't know who the hell he thought was going to clean 5 toilets. We all know it wasn't going to be me, right?
We're trying to get our move on by the end of February when my lease is up. I realize that technically it wouldn't have made any sense to start looking earlier than this month, but I feel kinda rushed now. Is that normal? And what about all the fees and stuff? I have a feeling we're not planning for some financial burden with this house buying thing. I'd hate for us to commit ourselves and think we've got it all covered and then realize we're up the creek because we forgot about one little thing that costs a few grand to take care of before we can move in.
Any suggestions? Ideas? Advice?
Monday, November 27, 2006
Cat-tastrophy*
It's Sunday. Four o'clock in the morning, actually. All the boy and I wanted to do was wind down and prepare for our last day of the four day weekend. He gets in the bed and I head to the porch to check on our fiercely pawed feline. Oh crap, I can't see him! Oh super crap! I found him. Our Tux is ON THE ROOF (dammit!). I gasped in ultimate horror and must've looked about like this. Seriously, I am surprised I was able to refrain from screaming and fainting.
So now we (aka my half-naked fiance' in a ratty robe and clunky tennis shoes) have to try coaxing the kitty down before he falls to his death. It's dark and cold and we're on the third floor. Fuck.
This must be what parenthood is like. You want your progeny to explore, but you know they might overstep their bounds and get hurt at some point. That, and it scares the shit out of you.
Of course just asking Tux to come down and having him, I don't know...do it, would be too simple. The boy has one chair and the last time he had to stand on it to retrieve Sir Tuxenstiegel (damn cat) he almost died. That chair, it swivels. Not good for standing. So what does he drag out to the porch? An empty cooler. This did not instill me with any more confidence than the chair, but whattaya gonna do?
Tux is meowing mournfully now, he clearly knows he's out of his element. But will he just let the boy grab him? No. He has to start clawing and move away from the edge of the roof so we can't get to him. I'm behind the boy, spotting him and praying that neither of them falls off the building to the concrete-of-death below.
It probably only took 10 minutes to fish him down, but it felt like forever and almost killed me.
Damn that cat.
*God, I'm so clever.
So now we (aka my half-naked fiance' in a ratty robe and clunky tennis shoes) have to try coaxing the kitty down before he falls to his death. It's dark and cold and we're on the third floor. Fuck.
This must be what parenthood is like. You want your progeny to explore, but you know they might overstep their bounds and get hurt at some point. That, and it scares the shit out of you.
Of course just asking Tux to come down and having him, I don't know...do it, would be too simple. The boy has one chair and the last time he had to stand on it to retrieve Sir Tuxenstiegel (damn cat) he almost died. That chair, it swivels. Not good for standing. So what does he drag out to the porch? An empty cooler. This did not instill me with any more confidence than the chair, but whattaya gonna do?
Tux is meowing mournfully now, he clearly knows he's out of his element. But will he just let the boy grab him? No. He has to start clawing and move away from the edge of the roof so we can't get to him. I'm behind the boy, spotting him and praying that neither of them falls off the building to the concrete-of-death below.
It probably only took 10 minutes to fish him down, but it felt like forever and almost killed me.
Damn that cat.
*God, I'm so clever.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
It's Been One Of Those Weeks
Sunday
We go to a super early showing of The Prestige. Two tickets only cost $8 and we had to get to the theater at 11:11am. I'm not even playing. There were only 3 people at the show. We sneak in cheapo breakfast goodies by way of my huge-ass purse. It's like I'm a kid again. Oh yeah, everyone needs to see this movie. It. Is amazing.
At the end of a lazy weekend the boy decides we should play frisbee inside his tiny apartment. With the top from a Rubbermaid container. I catch and return; the top bounces off the wall and hits him in the nose, skinning a significant portion of said appendage. The boy spends most of the week with a huge scab on his cute, nobby nose. As you might imagine I feel horrible for this, but blame him for it anyway. I mean, hey, he started it.
The boy leaves his debit card in the ATM. Dammit!
Monday
I went to work. This would soon change.
Also, the boy has an unquenchable desire to watch the copy of last week's Battlestar Gallactica (geek) he got his grubby little hands on. I protest but give in, and we watch BG at 11pm before heading back to my place. I'm sleepy. The boy will pay for this.
Tuesday
I get antsy for Christmas decorations and make plans to clean and get my holiday on. I have visions of me and the boy decorating my place as cookies bake and Christmas music plays. I decide we'll get this done before the end of the week.
I make cookies for tomorrow's potluck at work and pack up 1/2 of each batch. I'm proud that I manage to go to bed with only 2 cookies in my belly.
Wednesday
We have our potluck. This takes up a good two hours of actual work time. I simply adore sanctioned time wastage!
The boy and I have a talk. He wants to go out, but can't access his cash at this late hour since he left behind his ATM card on Sunday and is waiting on a new one. He asks if I can spot us. I get pissy and tell him so. He literally had ALL DAY to go to the bank and take money out. Instead he did lots of sleeping and video game playing(ok, he did have a job interview, too). Why is this so difficult sometimes?
He actually finds a drive-up teller open after 5pm and we speed over. We spend the night with dinner at House of Wong, drinks and my pool learnin' at Nick's in Dogtown. We're out late and have a lot of fun. This day turned out real nice.
Thursday
Me and the boy walked to the park near my and played frisbee (for real this time) until well after dark. For some reason I got into it and worked my ass off. It's the one good workout I had all week.
Friday
The boy returns from another job interview (yay!) and drops the idea of another early movie. We see Stranger Than Fiction (get thee to a theater post haste, internet) with a purse full of Jack-n-the Box. Loverly afternoon.
I tell the boy I want us to decorate my apartment. I begin to clean and he dutifully LAYS DOWN ON THE COUCH AND GOES TO SLEEP. TOTALLY ON PURPOSE. Can you imagine, internet, that this gets on my nerves? I did not decorate. Instead I played Christmas music, straightened my place and made pizza (cheese, tomato, onion, lots of spices...*drool*).
Saturday
We did our civic duty and recycled a ton of glass, paper, cans, etc. As usual, our reward for this is eating out. This time we went to Joe's Crab Shack and I did indeed spot us to the tune of $36. See why this is so difficult? It didn't even occur to me to care this time. And I didn't even realize the boy was going to return the favor for this one until we sat down. Maybe this is horrible, but only then did I decide to buy that appetizer.
Sunday
I told myself that this weekend at the boy's place would be about working on my screenplay, creating a budget and other really useful things. Instead I'm watching football and writing my blog. Well, fuck. The day ain't over yet.
We go to a super early showing of The Prestige. Two tickets only cost $8 and we had to get to the theater at 11:11am. I'm not even playing. There were only 3 people at the show. We sneak in cheapo breakfast goodies by way of my huge-ass purse. It's like I'm a kid again. Oh yeah, everyone needs to see this movie. It. Is amazing.
At the end of a lazy weekend the boy decides we should play frisbee inside his tiny apartment. With the top from a Rubbermaid container. I catch and return; the top bounces off the wall and hits him in the nose, skinning a significant portion of said appendage. The boy spends most of the week with a huge scab on his cute, nobby nose. As you might imagine I feel horrible for this, but blame him for it anyway. I mean, hey, he started it.
The boy leaves his debit card in the ATM. Dammit!
Monday
I went to work. This would soon change.
Also, the boy has an unquenchable desire to watch the copy of last week's Battlestar Gallactica (geek) he got his grubby little hands on. I protest but give in, and we watch BG at 11pm before heading back to my place. I'm sleepy. The boy will pay for this.
Tuesday
I get antsy for Christmas decorations and make plans to clean and get my holiday on. I have visions of me and the boy decorating my place as cookies bake and Christmas music plays. I decide we'll get this done before the end of the week.
I make cookies for tomorrow's potluck at work and pack up 1/2 of each batch. I'm proud that I manage to go to bed with only 2 cookies in my belly.
Wednesday
We have our potluck. This takes up a good two hours of actual work time. I simply adore sanctioned time wastage!
The boy and I have a talk. He wants to go out, but can't access his cash at this late hour since he left behind his ATM card on Sunday and is waiting on a new one. He asks if I can spot us. I get pissy and tell him so. He literally had ALL DAY to go to the bank and take money out. Instead he did lots of sleeping and video game playing(ok, he did have a job interview, too). Why is this so difficult sometimes?
He actually finds a drive-up teller open after 5pm and we speed over. We spend the night with dinner at House of Wong, drinks and my pool learnin' at Nick's in Dogtown. We're out late and have a lot of fun. This day turned out real nice.
Thursday
Me and the boy walked to the park near my and played frisbee (for real this time) until well after dark. For some reason I got into it and worked my ass off. It's the one good workout I had all week.
Friday
The boy returns from another job interview (yay!) and drops the idea of another early movie. We see Stranger Than Fiction (get thee to a theater post haste, internet) with a purse full of Jack-n-the Box. Loverly afternoon.
I tell the boy I want us to decorate my apartment. I begin to clean and he dutifully LAYS DOWN ON THE COUCH AND GOES TO SLEEP. TOTALLY ON PURPOSE. Can you imagine, internet, that this gets on my nerves? I did not decorate. Instead I played Christmas music, straightened my place and made pizza (cheese, tomato, onion, lots of spices...*drool*).
Saturday
We did our civic duty and recycled a ton of glass, paper, cans, etc. As usual, our reward for this is eating out. This time we went to Joe's Crab Shack and I did indeed spot us to the tune of $36. See why this is so difficult? It didn't even occur to me to care this time. And I didn't even realize the boy was going to return the favor for this one until we sat down. Maybe this is horrible, but only then did I decide to buy that appetizer.
Sunday
I told myself that this weekend at the boy's place would be about working on my screenplay, creating a budget and other really useful things. Instead I'm watching football and writing my blog. Well, fuck. The day ain't over yet.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Splenda Packets I've Stolen
It's all the boy's fault. I was perfectly happy using real sugar for everything: cereal, coffee, tea...But he's all crazy about the Splenda. If something's got that crap in it, he's gonna buy it. The fiance' even got a big ol' box a that stuff for his house, but he never uses it. Who does? Me. Why? Because I'm addicted now and I blame him. I'm still screctly convinced it'll kill us all one day, but I can't think about that now dammit. I'm trying to lose weight! What really sucks is that it's about twice as expensive as sugar.
----------------------------------------------------------
In other news, me and the ladies from my new department had lunch with recent quitter J on Friday. She's finally engaged to BigTallD, her boy of over three years. What's even better is she asked me to be her wedding photographer next year! They're hiring someone for the ceremony, but want me to do all the fun pre and post shots. I'm actually looking forward to this. I shot one wedding about seven years ago and swore I'd never do it again, but I can already feel that this'll be a good time.
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Tux the emperor cat has been all about bundling up lately. I can't sit on the couch with a blanket without him getting all up under my cover. He lays at my feet, by my side, on my legs, and most strangely - between my legs right in my crotch. As cute as it all is I cannot emphasize enough how odd it is to feel his furry kitty body BETWEEN MY THIGHS. As if I've given birth to his fuzzy, Tuxy self. I suppose I should just get used to it because we've got at least 4 months of the cold stuff left.
------------------------------------------------------------
How's the new job? Good, really good. Thanks for asking. There seems to be just one thing. I'm kinda getting bored already. It's only been a month, so...dammit, I don't know what to do about that. I haven't even had a chance to decorate my cubby yet and already I'm giving thought to how long I can stand this.
------------------------------------------------------------
I exercised on Saturday! This may not sound like a big deal to any of you, but trust me, when you go a whole week without doing anything it's easy to say fuck it and give up on the weekends and pretend it'll be easier to start over the following week. Now I've kinda got my groove back.
-------------------------------------------------------------
The boy has a 2nd interview for a job that would be really cool today. Wish him luck!
----------------------------------------------------------
In other news, me and the ladies from my new department had lunch with recent quitter J on Friday. She's finally engaged to BigTallD, her boy of over three years. What's even better is she asked me to be her wedding photographer next year! They're hiring someone for the ceremony, but want me to do all the fun pre and post shots. I'm actually looking forward to this. I shot one wedding about seven years ago and swore I'd never do it again, but I can already feel that this'll be a good time.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Tux the emperor cat has been all about bundling up lately. I can't sit on the couch with a blanket without him getting all up under my cover. He lays at my feet, by my side, on my legs, and most strangely - between my legs right in my crotch. As cute as it all is I cannot emphasize enough how odd it is to feel his furry kitty body BETWEEN MY THIGHS. As if I've given birth to his fuzzy, Tuxy self. I suppose I should just get used to it because we've got at least 4 months of the cold stuff left.
------------------------------------------------------------
How's the new job? Good, really good. Thanks for asking. There seems to be just one thing. I'm kinda getting bored already. It's only been a month, so...dammit, I don't know what to do about that. I haven't even had a chance to decorate my cubby yet and already I'm giving thought to how long I can stand this.
------------------------------------------------------------
I exercised on Saturday! This may not sound like a big deal to any of you, but trust me, when you go a whole week without doing anything it's easy to say fuck it and give up on the weekends and pretend it'll be easier to start over the following week. Now I've kinda got my groove back.
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The boy has a 2nd interview for a job that would be really cool today. Wish him luck!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Wishing Won't Make It So
Wow, did I ever suffer from wishful thinking here or what? If you read it, I bet you can guess what I screwed up. That's right. I have never in my adult life weighed as little as 132 pounds. You know which number needs to change...? You got it, amigos. It should be 232. Fuck. It hurts all over again.
I haven't exercised once this week. I had plenty of time Monday, since I called in sick on our dreary, cold, rainy day, but spent most of my time reading for my class. With my butt firmly planted on the couch. I tried to put on one of my favorite skirts (my only winter item for my lower half that's not pants)Tuesday and it basically fit. But when I looked in the mirror and saw how much stomach was poofed over the top it pissed me off, made me sad and depressed me all at once. I opted for pants.
I've got a lot to do: a ton of homework, three film reviews to write, another film to see, quick trip to WalMart...There's got to be something I'm forgetting. Oh yeah, trying not to stuff my face with food from the sadness. That's it.
I haven't exercised once this week. I had plenty of time Monday, since I called in sick on our dreary, cold, rainy day, but spent most of my time reading for my class. With my butt firmly planted on the couch. I tried to put on one of my favorite skirts (my only winter item for my lower half that's not pants)Tuesday and it basically fit. But when I looked in the mirror and saw how much stomach was poofed over the top it pissed me off, made me sad and depressed me all at once. I opted for pants.
I've got a lot to do: a ton of homework, three film reviews to write, another film to see, quick trip to WalMart...There's got to be something I'm forgetting. Oh yeah, trying not to stuff my face with food from the sadness. That's it.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Sorts
I'm foggy today. I can't concentrate on anything for very long. My brain feels heavy. I spent 10 minutes trying to figure out how to turn a cardboard ring into a bangle bracelet. I am obviously not quite right. The endless round of stuffy, runny, sneezy, blowy nose crap is getting to me. I had to get up at 4:30 this morning to pee and stayed up until five taking allergy meds, drinking hot tea and blowing my nose but having nothing come out. All I want? To curl up in bed and sleep.
On a really, seriously good note though, I got two more film review assignments today. One tonight and one for Saturday morning. Thank God. I though I'd burned that bridge. Why? Well it's a long story that I'll make simple: I missed a screening. That's right, I had to tell my editor that I couldn't write one of the reviews he assigned me because I wasn't able to see the damn movie. What happened? It's my fault and the boy's fault and there was irritation and anger and disappointment and it's all three weeks over now. The point is that I don't have to have a talk with my editor asking if he's avoiding me because of the incident. I don't care if I only get to review the crap movies for a bit, I'm working my way back into his good graces.
On a really, seriously good note though, I got two more film review assignments today. One tonight and one for Saturday morning. Thank God. I though I'd burned that bridge. Why? Well it's a long story that I'll make simple: I missed a screening. That's right, I had to tell my editor that I couldn't write one of the reviews he assigned me because I wasn't able to see the damn movie. What happened? It's my fault and the boy's fault and there was irritation and anger and disappointment and it's all three weeks over now. The point is that I don't have to have a talk with my editor asking if he's avoiding me because of the incident. I don't care if I only get to review the crap movies for a bit, I'm working my way back into his good graces.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Where The Hell Have I Been?
-Sneezing*. You remember how I've had allergies all summer? Well today a new phenomenom started: blowing my nose now causes me to fart. And not little, cute *pop* *ptttthhhppp* farts but big, hard *BOOM* *CRACK* *DAMN* farts. Also? The odor, she is bad. Shit. Stop it gastrointestinal tract! I hate you now.
-Being speckled. Apparently I'm allergic to something I've used on my face recently. How do I know this? Because for the past week I've looked like someone attacked me with gravel...and it stuck to my face. The skin thing was bad enough, but then I woke up Friday morning with puffy, puss lips. Fuck. What's wrong with you skin? I had to see my mom for her birthday like this -- the next day. I was really afraid she'd notice, pull me aside and ask "What the hell did that boy give you? What the shit did he do to your face!!?" Luckily it was kinda dark in her house and she can't really see anyway. Thank you Sweet Baby Jesus for mid-life sight loss.
-Under paying my credit card bill. Did you know that if you paid your bill on time but accidentally forgot to pay enough to cover the minimum that you'd get hit with a late fee? Did you know that this "late" fee cost me $39 this month? No? Yeah, well, it did. Dammit Chase bank! Why can't a sista get ahead!? I owed them $139 this month which just about ate up my raise. Thusly, I have $12 to keep me until Friday, when the pay/pity cycle starts all over again.
-Working. So I've got this new job, right? I love the new freedom. I just kinda miss the old freedom a teensy bit, too. Jeez, I'm greedy.
-Not answering the phone. I don't have to listen to a ringing phone all day anymore so I don't. And. It. Is. AWESOME. My phone is on "do not disturb" so any calls go directly to my voice mail. If people leave an email address I get in touch that way instead of calling. BECAUSE I CAN. Loverly.
-Addressing the issue that is my flab. Turns out I weigh a whole ton more than I thought I did. I stepped on a scale last week and it's amazing that I didn't start crying on the spot. Unbelievable that I didn't become hysterical and then fall into a coma from the stress that is...SEEING EVIDENCE THAT I WEIGH 132 POUNDS. Fan-fucking-tastic folks. I now weigh around what my mom did at this ripe old age of 31. I've been doing well not eating late. I can even watch the boy eat Taco Bell, Jack'n the Box, McDonald's, chocolate covered peanuts, Snickers, etc. at midnight and not join in. Exercise? I'm still shooting for 30 minutes a day but haven't made it yet. Doesn't mean it's not still my goal. Cause it is. You hear that flab? I'm comin for ya!
-Wondering how I can finally have an orgasm. Shit. Do I need to take a siminar, or what?
-Watching tv. Also known as watching LOST, Studio 60, Gilmore Girls, Veronica Mars, Girlfriends (maybe past its peak), Desperate Housewives (will never be as good as the first season again), The Office, My Name is Earl, Supernatural, Smallville, Grey's Anatomy, Family Guy and American Dad. See? I'm busy.
-Not getting any film review assignments. I can't help but believe that this is directly related to an incident two weeks ago. Dammit, I'll tell you about it later.
-Comforting the boy after Eddie Van Halen scared the crap outta him.
*Do any of you ever feel that blowing your nose makes it bigger? Fine. You can lie to me, but not yourselves...liers.
-Being speckled. Apparently I'm allergic to something I've used on my face recently. How do I know this? Because for the past week I've looked like someone attacked me with gravel...and it stuck to my face. The skin thing was bad enough, but then I woke up Friday morning with puffy, puss lips. Fuck. What's wrong with you skin? I had to see my mom for her birthday like this -- the next day. I was really afraid she'd notice, pull me aside and ask "What the hell did that boy give you? What the shit did he do to your face!!?" Luckily it was kinda dark in her house and she can't really see anyway. Thank you Sweet Baby Jesus for mid-life sight loss.
-Under paying my credit card bill. Did you know that if you paid your bill on time but accidentally forgot to pay enough to cover the minimum that you'd get hit with a late fee? Did you know that this "late" fee cost me $39 this month? No? Yeah, well, it did. Dammit Chase bank! Why can't a sista get ahead!? I owed them $139 this month which just about ate up my raise. Thusly, I have $12 to keep me until Friday, when the pay/pity cycle starts all over again.
-Working. So I've got this new job, right? I love the new freedom. I just kinda miss the old freedom a teensy bit, too. Jeez, I'm greedy.
-Not answering the phone. I don't have to listen to a ringing phone all day anymore so I don't. And. It. Is. AWESOME. My phone is on "do not disturb" so any calls go directly to my voice mail. If people leave an email address I get in touch that way instead of calling. BECAUSE I CAN. Loverly.
-Addressing the issue that is my flab. Turns out I weigh a whole ton more than I thought I did. I stepped on a scale last week and it's amazing that I didn't start crying on the spot. Unbelievable that I didn't become hysterical and then fall into a coma from the stress that is...SEEING EVIDENCE THAT I WEIGH 132 POUNDS. Fan-fucking-tastic folks. I now weigh around what my mom did at this ripe old age of 31. I've been doing well not eating late. I can even watch the boy eat Taco Bell, Jack'n the Box, McDonald's, chocolate covered peanuts, Snickers, etc. at midnight and not join in. Exercise? I'm still shooting for 30 minutes a day but haven't made it yet. Doesn't mean it's not still my goal. Cause it is. You hear that flab? I'm comin for ya!
-Wondering how I can finally have an orgasm. Shit. Do I need to take a siminar, or what?
-Watching tv. Also known as watching LOST, Studio 60, Gilmore Girls, Veronica Mars, Girlfriends (maybe past its peak), Desperate Housewives (will never be as good as the first season again), The Office, My Name is Earl, Supernatural, Smallville, Grey's Anatomy, Family Guy and American Dad. See? I'm busy.
-Not getting any film review assignments. I can't help but believe that this is directly related to an incident two weeks ago. Dammit, I'll tell you about it later.
-Comforting the boy after Eddie Van Halen scared the crap outta him.
*Do any of you ever feel that blowing your nose makes it bigger? Fine. You can lie to me, but not yourselves...liers.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
These Are My Thighs
I made the mistake of going to my beloved Gap outlet store this weekend. Why was it a mistake? Because I knew what was going to happen. I'd find pants in my size (18 to 20...yeah, I know) try them on and be disappointed. I wish I could just blame the Gap. Say that they've started making things like crap, but it ain't true.
So I found a ton of cheap pants to try on. I took about 12 pairs into the fitting room, and NONE of them fit me. Not even the size 20s. The only thing that stopped me from crying is that the boy was there. When I got done he was sitting in front of the fitting room waiting for me. He sounded shocked when I said that not-a-one of those pants (oh, except for the sweats, which were a XXL)fit my ass.
"You mean they didn't fit the way you like them to, or they didn't fit?"
"They didn't fit."
"So, they just..."
"I couldn't even get some of them on."
"Ok. Even the 20s?"
"Even those."
I could tell he was horrified. Not just because he realized his fiancee was a giant, but because he saw I was upset by the same realization.
"Do you think that maybe it was just those pants? The way they're made?"
Bless his country heart for trying to make this all the Gap's fault. I fessed up, I've gained a lot of weight. I didn't give him the exact number, but revealed that pants I wore in the spring don't fit now. Last time I went to the doctor I was 220 lbs. I'm kinda tall, so I'm capable of carrying it without looking like an oompa loompa, but still. I'm way too heavy. I told myself I wouldn't get past a size 20 and I seem to have done it anyway.
"This'll be ok," he says. "We need to exercise more. If we just stick to walking and playing frisbee every day, it'll take awhile but we'll get in shape. I can stand to lose about 10 pounds. And, I'd never suggest you lose weight 'cause I think you look great, but if you're worried about it this will help you too."
Theoretically this is easy. Stop eating so much junk so often and get off your ass. But I love sitting on my ass! When I sit on my ass I can watch movies and tv and read books and magazines. I'd love, really to get back to 180lbs. Going up the boy's two flights of stairs would be so much easier. Everything would be easier.
How did I let myself get so lazy?
So I found a ton of cheap pants to try on. I took about 12 pairs into the fitting room, and NONE of them fit me. Not even the size 20s. The only thing that stopped me from crying is that the boy was there. When I got done he was sitting in front of the fitting room waiting for me. He sounded shocked when I said that not-a-one of those pants (oh, except for the sweats, which were a XXL)fit my ass.
"You mean they didn't fit the way you like them to, or they didn't fit?"
"They didn't fit."
"So, they just..."
"I couldn't even get some of them on."
"Ok. Even the 20s?"
"Even those."
I could tell he was horrified. Not just because he realized his fiancee was a giant, but because he saw I was upset by the same realization.
"Do you think that maybe it was just those pants? The way they're made?"
Bless his country heart for trying to make this all the Gap's fault. I fessed up, I've gained a lot of weight. I didn't give him the exact number, but revealed that pants I wore in the spring don't fit now. Last time I went to the doctor I was 220 lbs. I'm kinda tall, so I'm capable of carrying it without looking like an oompa loompa, but still. I'm way too heavy. I told myself I wouldn't get past a size 20 and I seem to have done it anyway.
"This'll be ok," he says. "We need to exercise more. If we just stick to walking and playing frisbee every day, it'll take awhile but we'll get in shape. I can stand to lose about 10 pounds. And, I'd never suggest you lose weight 'cause I think you look great, but if you're worried about it this will help you too."
Theoretically this is easy. Stop eating so much junk so often and get off your ass. But I love sitting on my ass! When I sit on my ass I can watch movies and tv and read books and magazines. I'd love, really to get back to 180lbs. Going up the boy's two flights of stairs would be so much easier. Everything would be easier.
How did I let myself get so lazy?
Monday, September 25, 2006
And The Hits Just Keep A'Comin
Wouldn't you know it? I'm not free yet. My Panamanian replacement had some difficulties and was promptly fired on Tuesday afternoon. I got called into the boss' office and told "We've got a problem..." I was not happy, but here's the deal: I work the front from open until my lunch, then after lunch whoever they can pull from the rest of the office will take over. I still get my new salary, and my permanent replacement starts in 1 week. I agreed to do it, hoping that it'll buy me some points with my boss.
Still, though, I'm outrageously happy about the new job. And I've hardly ever had to get on the phone. That? Is. Amazing.
Still, though, I'm outrageously happy about the new job. And I've hardly ever had to get on the phone. That? Is. Amazing.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Ok, So, I Feel Silly
About an hour after I got all hot over my boss's poor hiring decision, I was told that they indeed would be getting a temp until someone could be hired full time. Well, look at that. For once I got all worked up over nothing at work. Still? It took me about two hours after hearing the news to calm the hell down. The fierce anger literally made me physically HOT. Lord, internet. It's just a damn shame how I let that get the best of me.
The goodness now is that I've officially started my new job. Monday. I trained our Panamanian temp for half the day then moved my crap to my new desk in a cube(YAY!) and started working. I'm a bit slow with the new system I had to learn but I've gotten the hang of it. I don't even need my notes most of the time anymore. You know why? Cause I'm super special and shit.
So there.
The goodness now is that I've officially started my new job. Monday. I trained our Panamanian temp for half the day then moved my crap to my new desk in a cube(YAY!) and started working. I'm a bit slow with the new system I had to learn but I've gotten the hang of it. I don't even need my notes most of the time anymore. You know why? Cause I'm super special and shit.
So there.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Shit, God Dammit, Shit And Fuck
The woman who was supposed to takeover my receptionist job next Monday called today and decided to change her mind. Ass. This means I'm stuck here, answering the God Dammed phones and greeting fucking delivery men and answering inane questions and sitting sitting sitting on my ass through an ad going in the paper, resumes coming in, at least one round of interviews, someone getting hired and giving their two weeks notice at their old job. Fuck. This could take another month. I would have had my new salary in my account starting at the end of this month. In just two weeks, internet.
Being professional, working hard and caring right now? Not fucking easy. In fact. Fuck it.
This is what they get for hiring an INTERIOR DESIGNER WHO JUST WANTED A JOB WITH BENEFITS. That's right. She specializes in colors and patterns and fabrics and...lamps and shit. They had to know this was, at the very least, not going to last long. And here we go. Why do I have to get screwed over for their mistake? I should lobby to start my new job anyway, they should get a temp. Hell, a tree frog could do this job. Anybody got any tree frogs out there? How about a gecko? I hear geckos are smart.
I'm hot and I feel like crying. I think I'll go home for lunch. The one good thing about the fiance being laid off? He can comfort me at home from 1-2 pm.
Being professional, working hard and caring right now? Not fucking easy. In fact. Fuck it.
This is what they get for hiring an INTERIOR DESIGNER WHO JUST WANTED A JOB WITH BENEFITS. That's right. She specializes in colors and patterns and fabrics and...lamps and shit. They had to know this was, at the very least, not going to last long. And here we go. Why do I have to get screwed over for their mistake? I should lobby to start my new job anyway, they should get a temp. Hell, a tree frog could do this job. Anybody got any tree frogs out there? How about a gecko? I hear geckos are smart.
I'm hot and I feel like crying. I think I'll go home for lunch. The one good thing about the fiance being laid off? He can comfort me at home from 1-2 pm.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Enough Already!
I get it. Seriously, I really do. She's young and pretty. She can dance and sing and go on stage in next to nothing and still look fucking good. Her weave is fabulous and her makeup is always exquisite. Sometimes she wears kooky clothes, but she's theatrical; a full-service entertaining diva, so it works on her. Plus, she's got a new cd coming out, so yeah, there's lots of publicity to be done. Honestly, internet. I totally understand the fascination. But? But this, this and this is getting ridiculous. And this? Bullshit. Her boyfriend gave her a $1 million dollar car for her birthday. The least she could do is have the humility to only celebrate being born once. Not here, here and here. I have reached my saturation point.
God dammit, I'm cute too. I have scads of talent, and just because it's not of the singing/dancing/flouncing variety doesn't mean that I and my similarly gifted sisters should be ignored. And a skill she hasn't yet proven? Hat wearin'. I am all over the hat wearin'! Not to mention that I can get dressed without anybody helping me and come out looking just fine, I'll have you know.
Playa hater? Possibly. Happy now? Abso-freakin-lutely.
God dammit, I'm cute too. I have scads of talent, and just because it's not of the singing/dancing/flouncing variety doesn't mean that I and my similarly gifted sisters should be ignored. And a skill she hasn't yet proven? Hat wearin'. I am all over the hat wearin'! Not to mention that I can get dressed without anybody helping me and come out looking just fine, I'll have you know.
Playa hater? Possibly. Happy now? Abso-freakin-lutely.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
I Am Way More Excited Than You Right Now
You know how sometimes everything happens at once? Usually it's the bad stuff that goes like that, but last week I had three really good things happen to me.
The first two were on Tuesday. I let my supervisor and boss know months ago that when a certain employee in our development department left in August I'd be interested in taking over her job. It's just finally, really way past time to stop being a receptionist. I got to talk to our new VP of Development last week. I was terrified, this was essentially an interview. He'd already talked to two other possibles, from outside our organization, about the position and I didn't want to blow my edge by saying or doing something stupid in front of the man. Luckily he made me feel comfortable and I just talked a bit about myself. I suppose he liked what he heard because HE HIRED ME ON THE SPOT! I got so excited that I started to cry. I'm such a nutcase! It wasn't a boo-hoo-sobbing-tears-streaming kind of cry, but I did have to pretend I had something in my eye.
Do you, internet, have any idea how amazing this is for me? I'll still be answering phones, but for a specific department. It looks like my new title may be Administrative Assistant for Cause Related Marketing. And, SWEET BLESSED JESUS, I will actually be able to come and go from my desk as I please. No more begging someone to take the phones so I can pee, or scrambling to find somebody to grab my seat if I'm running late in the morning. Holy Fuckcats, Batman! THIS IS GONNA BE AWESOME!!
Also on Tuesday? We found out that our hours have been shortened to 8:30am-4:30pm PERMANENTLY. Oh yes. Thank you Lord.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
On to Saturday. Let's see, what happened on Saturday...Oh, right. THE BOY AND I GOT ENGAGED. Alright, before you get uber-amped, it's gonna be a loooong time before we make an official announcement. Let me explain.
I was trying to get my emissions test done on my car. Driving, with the boy, to the testing place with our Quick Trip drinks and Taco Bell late lunch. We're heading over a bridge, a pretty bridge with fleur de leis and big gas light style lampposts lining each side. I mention to the boyfriend that he's made references to us being married twice in just a few minutes. He gets all quiet and shy and hemming and hawing. The boy says:
"Well, ok, I'd feel kinda bad asking you to marry me right now since I've gotten laid-off. I mean, financially, I don't know what's coming. You know?
"So, if you were still working, you'd be asking me right about now."
"Yeah. That's our bridge now, you know that right?"
"Because we talked about marrying stuff while driving over it?"
"Yup."
We get to the emissions place and it's closed. We missed it by about 20 minutes. I pulled into an empty parking lot so we could eat our Taco Bell.
"What would my ring look like?"
"Um...I hadn't really thought of it. Anything you want it to look like. Especially since you know about it now."
"I've always thought it was crappy that men don't wear engagement rings, but women do. It's like some old patriarchal 'men can do whatever they want but women are owned' thing."
"Yeah, I've wondered why that is too. I'll wear a ring, though."
We're eating. It's a severely pleasant summer evening. Lots of lovely, apropos songs are playing on the radio, none of which I can remember now. I dig earnestly into my baja chicken chalupa and start crying.
"Dammit! You're making me cry. Shit!" I hit him playfully in the chest for making me tear up over Taco Bell. He laughs at me and the preposterousness of the proposal.
"In my heart," the boy says,"we've been engaged since the middle of January. That's why I've kept the ring you loaned me on New Year's Eve."
That was it for me. Big, giant boo hoo tears. But I'm still eating.
"Why didn't you ask me then?"
"It was too soon. I've been burned too many times."
"Yeah, it was too soon." SILENCE..."Ok, let's just say we're engaged now."
He agreed. The boy switched my ring (which I chose for him because of its unisex nature) from his right to left hand, and in one second went from being my boyfriend to my fiance. I thought we should keep this non-official official proposal between us and of course he was willing to comply. Unfortunately I couldn't keep my mouth shut, so I've told three friends at work and the internet and will tell at least one more person. I'll let him know what I did, but don't think he'll mind. Parental announcements and wide open proclamations are TOTALLY OUT, however. There's so much to think about with something that doesn't seem real yet.
So, can anyone top my week?
The first two were on Tuesday. I let my supervisor and boss know months ago that when a certain employee in our development department left in August I'd be interested in taking over her job. It's just finally, really way past time to stop being a receptionist. I got to talk to our new VP of Development last week. I was terrified, this was essentially an interview. He'd already talked to two other possibles, from outside our organization, about the position and I didn't want to blow my edge by saying or doing something stupid in front of the man. Luckily he made me feel comfortable and I just talked a bit about myself. I suppose he liked what he heard because HE HIRED ME ON THE SPOT! I got so excited that I started to cry. I'm such a nutcase! It wasn't a boo-hoo-sobbing-tears-streaming kind of cry, but I did have to pretend I had something in my eye.
Do you, internet, have any idea how amazing this is for me? I'll still be answering phones, but for a specific department. It looks like my new title may be Administrative Assistant for Cause Related Marketing. And, SWEET BLESSED JESUS, I will actually be able to come and go from my desk as I please. No more begging someone to take the phones so I can pee, or scrambling to find somebody to grab my seat if I'm running late in the morning. Holy Fuckcats, Batman! THIS IS GONNA BE AWESOME!!
Also on Tuesday? We found out that our hours have been shortened to 8:30am-4:30pm PERMANENTLY. Oh yes. Thank you Lord.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
On to Saturday. Let's see, what happened on Saturday...Oh, right. THE BOY AND I GOT ENGAGED. Alright, before you get uber-amped, it's gonna be a loooong time before we make an official announcement. Let me explain.
I was trying to get my emissions test done on my car. Driving, with the boy, to the testing place with our Quick Trip drinks and Taco Bell late lunch. We're heading over a bridge, a pretty bridge with fleur de leis and big gas light style lampposts lining each side. I mention to the boyfriend that he's made references to us being married twice in just a few minutes. He gets all quiet and shy and hemming and hawing. The boy says:
"Well, ok, I'd feel kinda bad asking you to marry me right now since I've gotten laid-off. I mean, financially, I don't know what's coming. You know?
"So, if you were still working, you'd be asking me right about now."
"Yeah. That's our bridge now, you know that right?"
"Because we talked about marrying stuff while driving over it?"
"Yup."
We get to the emissions place and it's closed. We missed it by about 20 minutes. I pulled into an empty parking lot so we could eat our Taco Bell.
"What would my ring look like?"
"Um...I hadn't really thought of it. Anything you want it to look like. Especially since you know about it now."
"I've always thought it was crappy that men don't wear engagement rings, but women do. It's like some old patriarchal 'men can do whatever they want but women are owned' thing."
"Yeah, I've wondered why that is too. I'll wear a ring, though."
We're eating. It's a severely pleasant summer evening. Lots of lovely, apropos songs are playing on the radio, none of which I can remember now. I dig earnestly into my baja chicken chalupa and start crying.
"Dammit! You're making me cry. Shit!" I hit him playfully in the chest for making me tear up over Taco Bell. He laughs at me and the preposterousness of the proposal.
"In my heart," the boy says,"we've been engaged since the middle of January. That's why I've kept the ring you loaned me on New Year's Eve."
That was it for me. Big, giant boo hoo tears. But I'm still eating.
"Why didn't you ask me then?"
"It was too soon. I've been burned too many times."
"Yeah, it was too soon." SILENCE..."Ok, let's just say we're engaged now."
He agreed. The boy switched my ring (which I chose for him because of its unisex nature) from his right to left hand, and in one second went from being my boyfriend to my fiance. I thought we should keep this non-official official proposal between us and of course he was willing to comply. Unfortunately I couldn't keep my mouth shut, so I've told three friends at work and the internet and will tell at least one more person. I'll let him know what I did, but don't think he'll mind. Parental announcements and wide open proclamations are TOTALLY OUT, however. There's so much to think about with something that doesn't seem real yet.
So, can anyone top my week?
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Tuesday Was Just Another Day
7:25 am Wake up just in time to get ready for work
7:55 am Drive as fast as possible, only to be continually waylaid by slow-ass bitches who refuse to drive like they have someplace to go
8:29 am Make it into my seat just as 8:30 am hits
8:34 am Wish my boyfriend didn't live so far away from my job
1:00 pm Have a weird combo of leftovers for lunch that equal so much crap
2:15 pm Begin the post lunch "wish I were leaving now" meditation
4:30 pm Get through the day with relative ease
5:00 pm Head back to the boy's place only to arrive completely starving
5:15 pm Demand boy cook for me as I nibble anything that doesn't move (too hungry - got no time for killin')
5:59 pm Try not to scarf pasta as boy and I watch The Simpsons, but do so anyway
6:00 pm Feel out of sorts from normal monthly...frustration
6:30 pm Watch as Tux tries to jump onto the window sill and instead hits his head on the closed window
6:33 pm Laugh and enjoy being kinda mean
6:45 pm Drive boy and myself to movie theater for a review assignment
6:49 pm Become irritated with driver who denies his/her ability to merge already and scream shrilly and loudly at them
6:50 pm Scare the boy in his passenger's seat and make him get reeeeeeeeal quiet so I don't take anger out on him
7:00 pm Giggle hysterically at myself as boy tries to change the subject
7:10 pm Find our press seats in theater and listen as boy boisterously extols the virtues of Pamprin and Midol to me
7:10 pm Fight urge to throw boy from press seats into movie screen
7:20 pm Smile at Asian lady who hears my boy say "I don't want you to do this for me, I want you to do this for your period. I can't stand seeing your period make you like this anymore. I mean, if those lady period medicines can help relieve the stress from your period then you should get some. To help. With your period."
7:30 pm Watch the movie
9:10 pm Leave the movie and go the wrong way as driving home
9:45 pm Arrive home and have boy feed me headache meds and make me pink lemonade
10:05 pm Relax with a magazine
11:12 pm Watch as Tux captures a baby wasp
11:15 pm Look on in horror as Tux eats the baby wasp
1:00 am Lay down to sleep
1:30 am Get up when it becomes obvious I can't sleep even though I'm fucked up tired
2:55 am Finally sleep
7:55 am Drive as fast as possible, only to be continually waylaid by slow-ass bitches who refuse to drive like they have someplace to go
8:29 am Make it into my seat just as 8:30 am hits
8:34 am Wish my boyfriend didn't live so far away from my job
1:00 pm Have a weird combo of leftovers for lunch that equal so much crap
2:15 pm Begin the post lunch "wish I were leaving now" meditation
4:30 pm Get through the day with relative ease
5:00 pm Head back to the boy's place only to arrive completely starving
5:15 pm Demand boy cook for me as I nibble anything that doesn't move (too hungry - got no time for killin')
5:59 pm Try not to scarf pasta as boy and I watch The Simpsons, but do so anyway
6:00 pm Feel out of sorts from normal monthly...frustration
6:30 pm Watch as Tux tries to jump onto the window sill and instead hits his head on the closed window
6:33 pm Laugh and enjoy being kinda mean
6:45 pm Drive boy and myself to movie theater for a review assignment
6:49 pm Become irritated with driver who denies his/her ability to merge already and scream shrilly and loudly at them
6:50 pm Scare the boy in his passenger's seat and make him get reeeeeeeeal quiet so I don't take anger out on him
7:00 pm Giggle hysterically at myself as boy tries to change the subject
7:10 pm Find our press seats in theater and listen as boy boisterously extols the virtues of Pamprin and Midol to me
7:10 pm Fight urge to throw boy from press seats into movie screen
7:20 pm Smile at Asian lady who hears my boy say "I don't want you to do this for me, I want you to do this for your period. I can't stand seeing your period make you like this anymore. I mean, if those lady period medicines can help relieve the stress from your period then you should get some. To help. With your period."
7:30 pm Watch the movie
9:10 pm Leave the movie and go the wrong way as driving home
9:45 pm Arrive home and have boy feed me headache meds and make me pink lemonade
10:05 pm Relax with a magazine
11:12 pm Watch as Tux captures a baby wasp
11:15 pm Look on in horror as Tux eats the baby wasp
1:00 am Lay down to sleep
1:30 am Get up when it becomes obvious I can't sleep even though I'm fucked up tired
2:55 am Finally sleep
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Development
A divorce can follow you for a long time. My dad left my mom 12 years ago and just when you think all the crap is over something else happens.
About a month ago my mom's alimony check suddenly dwindled to almost nothing. She was given a nice portion of his wages and pension for life in the final settlement. (I realize that may sound harsh to a lot of people, but when he decided to leave he did it in such backhanded way that pretty much anyone would want, at least, to get money out of him.) Anyway, she had to call her lawyer and go to court. Of course he showed up without his attorney, so everything had to be rescheduled.
Mom went back to court last Monday. Turns out my dad retired. Because he had to. Because he has cancer. In his leg.
I don't know what to say about this. Mom told me because she promised me all those years ago when this crap was just starting that she'd never keep any of this from me. Since I told her I'd want to know. Well, ok, but here's the thing. I haven't spoken to my dad since December 1994. I haven't seen him (on purpose) in that same amount of time. He and his family treated my mom horribly when he left, even though he was the one doing all the dirt. I decided I couldn't deal with someone who'd treat my mother so shittily, so I cut him & his out.
He sent me a letter, by way of mom, in August of 2004. I read it. I kept it. But I never contacted him. I had no interest in it.
So now he's sick, and I still don't want anything to do with him. Am I terrible? Wouldn't it be worse to force a conversation with him just because he's got cancer? That would be disingenuous. Like lying. I simply don't have time for it. But I wonder all the same, does this make me a cold, evil bitch?
I found out about this on Sunday and have been able to go about my business without thinking about it until the writing of this entry. I'm so used to not thinking about that man that having to think about him at all is off-putting. I hate giving mental space to him just for this 10 minute span of time. Really? I'm not sure why I'm asking these questions. I have no intention of calling/writing/seeing him just because someone random believes I should. Even if mom, when I asked her the same thing, had said "Yes, you are cold, sick, devilish and horrid my darling daughter", I would not have contacted him just for that. It would not have been an honest response to the situation. Why is it that I seem to care what you think? When I don't?
About a month ago my mom's alimony check suddenly dwindled to almost nothing. She was given a nice portion of his wages and pension for life in the final settlement. (I realize that may sound harsh to a lot of people, but when he decided to leave he did it in such backhanded way that pretty much anyone would want, at least, to get money out of him.) Anyway, she had to call her lawyer and go to court. Of course he showed up without his attorney, so everything had to be rescheduled.
Mom went back to court last Monday. Turns out my dad retired. Because he had to. Because he has cancer. In his leg.
I don't know what to say about this. Mom told me because she promised me all those years ago when this crap was just starting that she'd never keep any of this from me. Since I told her I'd want to know. Well, ok, but here's the thing. I haven't spoken to my dad since December 1994. I haven't seen him (on purpose) in that same amount of time. He and his family treated my mom horribly when he left, even though he was the one doing all the dirt. I decided I couldn't deal with someone who'd treat my mother so shittily, so I cut him & his out.
He sent me a letter, by way of mom, in August of 2004. I read it. I kept it. But I never contacted him. I had no interest in it.
So now he's sick, and I still don't want anything to do with him. Am I terrible? Wouldn't it be worse to force a conversation with him just because he's got cancer? That would be disingenuous. Like lying. I simply don't have time for it. But I wonder all the same, does this make me a cold, evil bitch?
I found out about this on Sunday and have been able to go about my business without thinking about it until the writing of this entry. I'm so used to not thinking about that man that having to think about him at all is off-putting. I hate giving mental space to him just for this 10 minute span of time. Really? I'm not sure why I'm asking these questions. I have no intention of calling/writing/seeing him just because someone random believes I should. Even if mom, when I asked her the same thing, had said "Yes, you are cold, sick, devilish and horrid my darling daughter", I would not have contacted him just for that. It would not have been an honest response to the situation. Why is it that I seem to care what you think? When I don't?
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Notes For The Cat
Dear High Kitty Emperor Tuximillion Howard G.J.
We love having you around and realize that you officially run our respective homes depending on where you are staying at the moment. However, we respectfully request that you halt some of your more troubling activities. Such as:
1) Biting our feet
2) Biting our ankles
3) Hanging from our arms by your fangs
4) Jumping at our defenseless faces
5) Clawing my hair
6) Shitting on the floor (yes, this only happened once...BUT STILL)
7) Fur turding on the carpet (linoleum only, please)
8) Slapping me (I do appreciate that there was only one occurrence here, also)
9) Pawing my boyfriend's pee stream (I never want to have to hold your paws under warm running water again)
10) Pawing my boyfriend's Hello-And-How-Are-You? (I promise that his balls are not at all like the jingly balls we buy you)
Also, we regret to inform you of this most disturbing new development that came to our attention this morning in the wee hours:
11) Don't ever, Ever, EVEREVEREVER jump onto the boyfriend's goodies as he's trying to sleep or AT ANY OTHER TIME. You could have killed him. And we most assuredly will need those later. Or right now. To soothe our frayed cat-attacked nerves.
Thank You
Sincerely,
citygirl and the boy *currently wearing a cup around the cat*
We love having you around and realize that you officially run our respective homes depending on where you are staying at the moment. However, we respectfully request that you halt some of your more troubling activities. Such as:
1) Biting our feet
2) Biting our ankles
3) Hanging from our arms by your fangs
4) Jumping at our defenseless faces
5) Clawing my hair
6) Shitting on the floor (yes, this only happened once...BUT STILL)
7) Fur turding on the carpet (linoleum only, please)
8) Slapping me (I do appreciate that there was only one occurrence here, also)
9) Pawing my boyfriend's pee stream (I never want to have to hold your paws under warm running water again)
10) Pawing my boyfriend's Hello-And-How-Are-You? (I promise that his balls are not at all like the jingly balls we buy you)
Also, we regret to inform you of this most disturbing new development that came to our attention this morning in the wee hours:
11) Don't ever, Ever, EVEREVEREVER jump onto the boyfriend's goodies as he's trying to sleep or AT ANY OTHER TIME. You could have killed him. And we most assuredly will need those later. Or right now. To soothe our frayed cat-attacked nerves.
Thank You
Sincerely,
citygirl and the boy *currently wearing a cup around the cat*
Friday, August 18, 2006
Happy Friday!
How's it going, internet? Doing anything fun this weekend? I've got no plans other than working on the script, cleaning house and writing a review for my new job. Damn! Are we glad it's Friday, or what?
So, what's new? That film reviewer job I just told you about has hit a bit of a snag. They still need contributors but have ceased physical publication. It's now strictly a web based magazine. Most of my reviews were going to end up online anyway, so from my perspective it really doesn't matter. But, it's sad to see a locally based national publication give up the print ghost. At least we'll always have you, internet.
My day job is still crappy. Even more so now that a good friend of mine has left for greener pastures. She found out about the offer on Tuesday morning. Unfortunately, the gig starts next MONDAY. Nice of them to give her enough time to leave on good terms with two weeks notice. But she had to take it, since she's moving from business to a new career in teaching and this job will have her as a TA at her old grade school.
Here's the thing, since our boss rode her ass everyday about things real, imagined, big and small anyway...this was especially not good news. He became so angry that he actually turned PURPLE. In general, I understand disliking the fact that she didn't give more notice, but the situation was explained to him. It's not really her fault. He's still all pissed that she "was selfish and put herself ahead of the organization." Fuck, man! Who the hell else is going to look out for her future if she doesn't? He even sent an email around the day after she left (she was planning to finish the week here but he told her to get her shit and go by the end of business Wednesday) blasting her publicly for leaving when everyone already knew what happened. He just needed to get that last word in. ASS JACKAL.
And he wears Cosby Sweaters.
All in all, though? It makes for an excellently interesting, maddening, exciting work environment. Drama, thy name is THE WORKPLACE.
So, what's new? That film reviewer job I just told you about has hit a bit of a snag. They still need contributors but have ceased physical publication. It's now strictly a web based magazine. Most of my reviews were going to end up online anyway, so from my perspective it really doesn't matter. But, it's sad to see a locally based national publication give up the print ghost. At least we'll always have you, internet.
My day job is still crappy. Even more so now that a good friend of mine has left for greener pastures. She found out about the offer on Tuesday morning. Unfortunately, the gig starts next MONDAY. Nice of them to give her enough time to leave on good terms with two weeks notice. But she had to take it, since she's moving from business to a new career in teaching and this job will have her as a TA at her old grade school.
Here's the thing, since our boss rode her ass everyday about things real, imagined, big and small anyway...this was especially not good news. He became so angry that he actually turned PURPLE. In general, I understand disliking the fact that she didn't give more notice, but the situation was explained to him. It's not really her fault. He's still all pissed that she "was selfish and put herself ahead of the organization." Fuck, man! Who the hell else is going to look out for her future if she doesn't? He even sent an email around the day after she left (she was planning to finish the week here but he told her to get her shit and go by the end of business Wednesday) blasting her publicly for leaving when everyone already knew what happened. He just needed to get that last word in. ASS JACKAL.
And he wears Cosby Sweaters.
All in all, though? It makes for an excellently interesting, maddening, exciting work environment. Drama, thy name is THE WORKPLACE.
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