Monday, December 31, 2007

How White People Take Their Vengeance...per the Mackistani

This is so funny. The Mack is in Florida right now and he's been calling me today for assistance here and there. So, he goes to rent this car at Payless Car Rental in Orlando and immediately after, he calls me up to tell me about his adventure.

Since the Mack's English is sometimes difficult to understand, I won't go into details, except to say that he ticked off the desk agent. Apparently, she was white.

He goes, "...and she was mad at me for giving her all this trouble and extra work."

So I say to him, "Well, what did she *say*?"

"She didn't say anything. You don't understand," he says as I sense another lecture on how things work in America. He loves telling me about what he's learned in his travels. "Black people and colored people are stupid. They yell at you and curse you to your face. White people are smart. They just screw up your LIFE. That's how they take their revenge...with a smile on their face!"

"I thought you were smart girl and that you knew this!" Yeah, he often forgets his articles.

"Well, honey, I don't go around making people angry left and right."

"Oh, ok."

Sunday, December 30, 2007

Time for a New Career

But what shall it be?

Watching how the Mack runs his business life has been inspiring. When he gets an idea about something, he researches it, then he evaluates it - figuring out the 'secret' of it - then if it's still a good idea, he just does it.

This is probably the first relationship where I've been extremely upfront about how I am with money and about my financial situation. Granted, that's easier when you're not lying and being dishonest left and right and you're not doing freaky, possibly illegal things with money. So I'm really glad that I've changed.

And I'm really glad I can be that honest. I'm getting on a tangent now, but this is the first time that I've thought, well, I'm just going to show who I am in all my glory or lack thereof, and if he likes it, great. If not, I'll be ok.

Anyway, the Mack has been really great about where I am financially. I don't have much debt, relatively speaking, but what I do have is past due and I'm working to get rid of it. I haven't had any real ambition for a while now, but I feel my ambitions for success returning and I have to admit that Dedee is a large reason for that.

He has had great advice for how I can get out of debt, how to negotiate with bill collectors, and how I can simplify my life and achieve my very simple goals of obtaining an education and a house.

So I've been a secretary for about five years now. Just at ABC Nuts and Bolts, that is. I've been in administrative assistant work for longer than that. And I'm pretty tired of it. I need a job where I can be creative and I can talk to people. Where I can be passionate and use my people skills to their fullest advantage.

And I am leaning toward that job being sales.

Now, I have sold Mary Kay before. But at that time, I was in my addiction, and so it didn't go very well. Read: more wreckage. I was good at it, but I had no real confidence to acquire really good customers, and my personal life was a hot steaming mess.

At this time, I have a year of abstinence. I have a plan for how to get myself out of debt. I believe that I really can achieve my goals, as long I keep them simple. I'm paying my bills, not being crazy, brushing my teeth every day, and doing laundry occasionally too. Dedee is doing ok and I have some boundaries. I think I might be finally ready to do something and actually be successful at it.

I still have a lot of questions and I'm not sure what's going to happen, but I'm going to use this time while the Mack is in Florida and after his subsequent move to Chicago to figure out what I'm going to do.

The Mack really wants me to go get an associate's degree at least. I don't see how I can do *everything* that I want to do and get that at the same time. I know it's important, but I just don't know how doable it is right at this moment. I don't really need to know right now; I just need to keep moving forward.

Friday, December 28, 2007

A Clot it is Not

So I got this ginormous hematoma from the snowboarding fun on Sunday.

Remember how I said that it looked 'fun' and that I would probably try it again?

Well, no I fucking will not. I don't care if I have to whore out my being a parent in order to avoid it (as in, 'I'm a parent and it would be irresponsible for me to risk making my child an orphan by undertaking a 'very dangerous' sport').

So far, this damn adventure has cost me $100.00 that I didn't have to begin with. $20 for the doctor's office visit to see if my tailbone was broken (Dedee just learned a new word tonight, ie, "Don't run so fast, Mommy's coccyx hurts."), then $5.00 for the vicodin, and now $75.00 for the ER visit to make sure Mommy doesn't have a clot that might float up to her heart or brain and kill her. Plus three hours of ER time, about 30 minutes of which was spent actually doing things.

So what happened today is that I have this ginormous, ugly bruise on my left shin. No biggy right? It'll heal, right? Well, I was kneeling on my chair for some reason and something flippin BURST inside that damn thing. So you know that freaked me out, and I called up my doctor. And what do you think they said, "Get thee to an emergency room, for thy may have a clot, and we do not haveth a Doppler machine to check that shit out." I was like, "Are you kidding?"

So I was messaging Lashanda Williams and I go, 'Yeah they want me to go to the ER.'

'Why?'

'I might have a clot in my leg. But I'm not going yet, because I have a lunch date and expense reports to do. I sound crazy don't I?'

'Yes.'

'Ok.'

So, I ended up going to the ER. My blood contained elevated levels of the byproducts of clots. Which, the doctor explained, could have resulted from the multiple harmless clots in my leg, or and he closed the door for this one, my 'menstrual period'. LOL. Dude practically whispered 'menstrual period' like it's a crazy alien phenomenon or a position in the kama sutra. lol.

Anyway, all that time in the ER was productive, I GUESS. I don't have a clot. Whoopee.

'Enchanted' Aftermath

So my little blossom and I went to see 'Enchanted' tonight. Great movie. Worked for kids too. Dedee loved it.

After we see movies, Dedee is always a little over-excited. One time, we were at a theater and my little 80 pound blossom collapsed the landing gear. This was after 'The Golden Compass,' which, by the way, is frickin eye candy. The police officer there thought he was going to solve this problem tout de suite. Yeah, whatever, knight in shining Kevlar. Ye have met thy match.

Anyway, he couldn't fix it. I fixed it though.

So, moving on, tonight after the movie, Dedee decided to run around the parking lot. She wasn't watching for cars very well and with my bruised tailbone, I couldn't chase her, but I did my best and we made it to the car without any broken bones.

However, little Dedee wanted to take control of the situation and didn't feel like getting in. I got in the car and tried to get her with something like five requests. No dice. She was out there taunting me. Daring me to control her. 'Hey gimp, you can't control the seven year old!!!!'

So I locked all the doors but the one that I wished her to use and proceeded to turn up the music and start dancing in my seat and looking like I was having the time of my life. LOL. Worked like a charm!

But then of course she didn't want to buckle up. One warning about the kid police was all it took.

I'm really getting good at this. Mack and I were just joking the other day about how I better heal up soon, before Dedee takes over the world and starts bombing other countries while I'm out on the corner selling flowers. He was soooo right!

Dedee, Mommy's only 31 and she ain't a gimp. I'll be healed in about five days and your reign of terror will be over, biatch!!!!

Christmas Eve 2007

Christmas Eve was frickin awesome. I will really cherish this memory forever. I have decided to start a new tagged section of my blog, called Awesome Freakin Memories. This will be the inaugural post.

I had to fight some depression on Christmas Eve as the Mackistani was gleefully planning to leave for Florida on 12/26 to play professional tennis for a little while until he's forced to find employment again. But I did manage to fight it off.

And so, I picked up my little blossom from school on Christmas Eve, and we were off to our apartment. Having arrived there, we proceeded to eat something for dinner, but I don't remember what. Dedee wasn't too off her rocker, having spent the whole day at Behave'n having her behavior corrected. :)

After dinner, it was time to find something to do besides watch TV. So, I thought, what should we do? Well, first we wrapped the snowflake ornament that Dedee painted for her *real* Mommy. I tried to teach her something about wrapping stuff. We did a good job. Dedee wrote on the gift tag. To 'Momy' from 'Dedee'. LOL. Yes, she used her new nick. hehehehehehe.

Next up, trying to pass some more time, I thought, hmm, what should we do? Well, Dedee is only seven, so she is still innocent. I love answering her questions about Santa. I have an answer for every question.

'How will Santa get into our apartment?'
  • A: I will leave the patio door unlocked. The reindeer will hang out on the roof.
'How will Santa know where I am?'
  • A: Well, you sent him a letter, right? And didn't we just see him at that party last Saturday?
I forget what else she asked. I should have started this chain of posts long ago. Because she says innocent stuff like this every day!

Anyway, so we decided to track Santa on NORAD's site. Awesome! She loved it and believed every word.

Then we tried to watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer on YouTube and also Frosty the Snowman. That went well also.

Then it was time for bed and Dedee was tempted to be naughty, but I reminded her that Santa is stillllll watching. Worked like a charm. Anti-psychotics and melatonin taken, Dedee curled right up for bed. And stayed put.

It's Dedee, Bitch

So my little blossom, no, not an onion blossom, but a flower blossom....has decided most decidedly that she wishes to be called none other than Dedee. And she picked the spelling, so don't blame me.

Now I know I'm not supposed to be spiteful, I'm supposed to be a little angel, a 12 stepping, serene angel, whose serenity nobody can freak with. Gonna try and keep it G rated so that if I decide to de-privatize this blog, I won't look like a big rear opening from which waste is escaping when it's not supposed to be. :)

So anyway, I know I'm supposed to be a little 12 stepping serene angel person, but I'm not, I'm a bitch sometimes, just like anyone else. :) And so, I can't help it but get a slightly warm and fuzzy feeling in the cockles of my little black heart when my sister gets a wee bit irritated that Dedee has chosen this name, and that she was most certainly encouraged in this choice by her ex foster parents, whom my sister despises. Why she despises them, I know not, as they were an awesome family for Dedee.

Oh, probably because she has lost the biggest fight of her life, that of trying to keep her child. And her self-worth is in the shitter. Oh dang it, Compassion and Maturity, go back to your corners, no one wants your boring asses around here!

Monday, December 24, 2007

Snowboarding -- A Sport that is Not For Me

I am not very often inspired to write in my blog anymore. But an update is sometimes required to satisfy the lone reader of my blog.

Frankly, now that the custody stuff is over and the wee one's been adopted, I might just make the blog public again. Perhaps that will inspire more frequent updates, who knows?

I wrote so much better when I was depressed and bitter. The wit flowed right out of my fingertips into the blog. It was amazing.

So I have this new boyfriend. I guess he's not new anymore, since we've been together for nine months now. He is the Mackistani.

The Mackistani is athletic and he wants me to join him in his athletic adventures. I have lost weight but not enough to put on a cute little tennis outfit and run around the court yet. The Mackistani loves tennis.

So he proposes yesterday that we go for an adventure in snowboarding at a local ski area. Oh dear. Wanting to be a sporting type, I agree that it's a *great* idea and, boy, what an adventure that will make!

We suit up and program the GPS and off we go to Mt. Crescent Ski Area in loverly Crestent, Iowa.

Upon arriving, we note that it appears a little run down. We get out of the car and also note that it's notably more frigid here in loverly Crescent, IA. Personally, I was enthralled at being someplace so athletic. There's even snow machines and skiers, which I've only seen on TV! Wow!!!

We depart from the car and walk on up into the 'lodge'. Upon entering, I noted that it was more than a little stinky. This place was amazingly well run-down. The windows were gross, the carpet was worse, and the tables and chairs looked like they came from the breakroom of a greasy telemarketing operation.

The Mackistani uses me as his mouthpiece as he is convinced that his South Asian looks and bearing will probably earn him some discrimination and a bad price to boot. I go up to the desk and talk to the friendly guy there and we eventually sign up for snowboarding lessons, which take about an hour and a half. We sign waivers stating that we understand that snowboarding is a VERY DANGEROUS SPORT. Clue, anyone? After sitting for a while and eating some fries, we go downstairs to get our equipment.

I immediately notice that the ski boots guarantee that your calves will burn, because they are set at an angle and your leg is braced at that angle. I also noted that all the skiers and snowboarders are in good shape and that they have helmets and goggles on. Hmmm. However, I'm delighted that my shoe size is small enough for me to be in the world of normalcy. That is, I can rent a pair of ski boots and be ok. I was also delighted that it was easier for me to figure out the boots than the Mackistani. So there!!!

All suited up and equipped with snowboards, Mack notes that we should go out there and start getting used to our snowboards. Yeah, he's like a kid in a candy shop. I am more like a deer in the headlights. We go out and affix the deathb....I mean snowboards...to our feet. Some happy go lucky dude shows up and I go 'Are you our instructor?' 'Yep, I'll be your instructor for today!' And he starts to instruct us. Seemed like he was the instructor, right? He was INSTRUCTING. I thought he was the instructor, what would you think?

So Mr. Instructor starts INSTRUCTING us outside. First thing he tells us is to make sure that we have the right foot on the right part of the board. We can either be regular footed or goofy footed. WTF? We both discover that we are regular footed. So we have our feet affixed to these things and we slide/fall down the ramp toward the lifts. Neither of us have been on a lift before. We get up there and the lift comes up behind me so I sit down. Soon we're starting to lift off and I look down after I hear Mack screaming. One of his hands is holding onto the lift seat for dear life and his little cherubic face is looking up at me from the ground as he's being dragged!!!! I'm like, "Oh no!' and the lift stops. Mack scrambles onto the seat. We're both happy that we've survived this. Whew!

So we get up there and a sign on the shack says something about preparing to get off the lift. Oh great. Perfect! We step off the lift and prepare to go down this little slide. We both end up flopping onto the ground and soon find a way to get up. I now have a huge shiner on my left leg which is, as I write this 24 hours later, giving off heat!

Here we are at the top of the hill...two people who can barely stay on the snowboards and we're about to go down the same hill that the other skiers go down. The 'instructor' affixes the snowboard to my other foot. I end up snowboarding down the hill at an incredible speed, trying to turn, and then get turned around backward and ending up slamming onto my back with my head bouncing off the snow.

So while Mack and the 'instructor' are up there laughing at me, I'm laying on the ground staring at the sky and I have a moment to ponder this. Should I continue to try and snowboard, which, as I have previously explained, is a VERY DANGEROUS sport? Or should I quit, as I am quite clearly injured?

At this time, I realize that I am now injured and so this will be it for me.

Mack is still trying to get down the hill and trying to learn and he's making progress. That little athlete. I walk down the hill in those hellish f*cking skiboots and am so grateful to finally make it to the lodge, exhausted and seriously hurting. I get the d*mn things off and try to sit down. Luckily, my back is not so injured as to make it impossible to sit. It's just hard to get up and sit down. Movement is a challenge.

Today, the day afterward, my neck and shoulders are stiff as boards, but with the help of ibuprofen, I can move around and not suffer too much. Yay!!!

And, honestly, snowboarding looks fun. I just need to get the hang of it. I am losing weight right now and though it might not be a good idea right at this time, maybe I could snowboard when I more fit. And healed from my injuries.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

My Writing Used to Be So Much Funnier

OMG it was so much funnier. Like rapier-sharp funny. What is up with that? Where did my sense of humor go? Now this blog is all just whining. WTF?

Like, there was the post about 'A Food I Shall Endeavor to Never Eat Again', which I was thinking of today because I have A TON of gas. I think Twiggy is actually surreptitiously spraying air freshener in my cube. Every so often after I let one loose, I'll catch a whiff of something that smells like frickin roses.

See, the thing is that I used to not care about this stuff or I thought it was kinda funny. No longer, friend. I'm not sure what changed, but I am kinda concerned that I may be known in the department as a gas-bag or something. :o( That would suck. Combine that with being overweight, and you get the stereotypical gross fat person stereotype thingy. Ugh, I gotta get some Gas-X. This will actually dovetail nicely with my plan to finally get my flex spending account debit card back. It's not really going my way so far, which I shall post about soon.

Then there was the post about my cube being changed so people can see me. Do you realize that that happened in August 2006 and it was changed in November or October 2007 - over a year later? That post even had a drawing.

Aw God, I have gas again. Dangit! Where the heck is all this coming from? It can't be the lentils, can it? The pokoras? Maybe the stuff that one covers the pokoras with -- the chickpea flour. Yes, I did say chickpea flour - you can indeed grind up anything and call it flour, apparently. That lady who wrote about hiding the spinach in the cookies should have talked to a PAkistani or Indian person and she'd have learned quick that you can hide good stuff anywhere if you fry it in veggie oil and add salt. Well, broccoli probably wouldn't go over too well that way.

Anyway, why on God's green earth would a parent go through a complicated, super secret recipe in order to hide spinach in the cookies? Only wussy parent have to do that. The rest of us, who are not wussies, command our children to eat their veggies and those same children will starve to death before they get ice cream prior to eating their veggies. Again, I cite the child-worshipping society that we now find ourselves living in.


Monday, November 19, 2007

So sick of this job?

I feel like there must be something wrong with me.

I've been parking wherever I felt like for a long time. Facilities finally got fed up and sent one of their security minions upstairs to let me know that should I do that again, my little grocery getter shall be unceremoniously towed. That was last week. Ok, no problem. I parked legally today. And when they sent their minion, of course I didn't get upset or persnickety with him. You break the rules, there are going to be consequences, end of story.

Sooooo everything's going swimmingly, right? My supervisor comes up to my cube this morning and mentions that she heard through the grapevine that I've been parking illegally and that it's a serious infraction and not something you want on your record here. Parking is a serious infraction? You've got to be kidding. Oh God, here we go again. It's already done and over with so I don't understand why people are still wasting energy over this. Well, you break the rules, there are going to be consequences. Have a nice day, Secretary!

Why can't I just follow the dang rules around here? Why must I always be so rebellious? I'm not special, this world doesn't revolve around me, and why can't I get that through my head?

There are no excuses for consciously breaking the rules. You cannot do so and then expect nothing to happen. But I will say that I feel much less valued here when I'm being picked on for jeans and makeup. Especially when I see Twiggy wearing an entire denim outfit today. And it's not Friday, folks.

But at the same time, I have trouble believing that I'm just somehow being picked on, even when someone out and out tells me that Napoleon just doesn't like fat people. Sometimes I think, well if there was nothing wrong with me and what I'm doing, then I would not be recieving all this attention. (Of course, the parking thing is not being picked on. Something about consequences...).

I just do not belong here, I sometimes think.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

The Secret

Have you heard all the buzz about 'The Secret'?

Hey, I've got a secret for you. For free. Yes, that's right, I'm happy to do my fellow man a major favor at no cost.

HOW TO EAT CHEETOS WITHOUT GETTING NEON ORANGE STUFF ON YOUR FINGERS
Basically, you just need to make sure your fingers always remain dry. Never touch your mouth with your fingers and don't lick them in between Cheetos. Have your napkin at the ready to ensure finger-dryness.

Ok so this book "The Secret" came out and it's a Christian industry thing. Yes, I said INDUSTRY. Just like "The Purpose-Drive Life" became an industry and still is. Well, apparently, this book tells you that all you have to do to be happy is be in complete submission to the Will of God. It's also a marketing tool, forgot that.

Well, let me let you in on a little secret. You can get this information, a book that gives you step-by-step instructions on doing this, and free coaching and support all by attending a 12-step meeting. This SECRET was already figured out back in the 20's by a little group known as Alcoholics Anonymous.

Oh and the Muslims already knew this secret also. In fact, they discovered this secret about 1500 years ago when a fellow named Muhammad spent about 23 years taking dictation from God in a cave. This dictation became a book called the Quran. The word Islam means peace, which, according to Muslims, is achieved through complete submission to the will of God, whom they call Allah.

So basically it's not a secret. But people are always looking for some book or self-help work that will fill their God-sized holes...

Dress Code

Soooo...I work in an office with a professional dress code. Great, no problem. I'm happy to comply. It used to be that I had no idea how to dress professionally, and no motivation to brush my teeth let alone dress properly for work. But nowadays, I both brush my teeth every day and dress professionally. I've invested in my wardrobe and while it's not as dapper as some people's, it's decent and meets the dress code.

On Fridays we are allowed to dress in business casual attire. I have a brand new pair of dark black jeans that fit perfectly, neither too tight nor too loose, and I usually wear those on Friday with a top that I wear during the week, usually a light orange cableknit sweater with 3/4 sleeves. It looks good on me. I've gotten a lot of compliments on it. Twiggy also wears colored jeans on Fridays. Colored jeans are specifically mentioned as being acceptable in our dress code.

Well on Thursday of this last week, my supervisor was busy making much ado about nothing as usual and wanted to meet with me about something inconsequential. I hate it when she does that. She practically gives me an ulcer over nothing. So we cleared up the little bit of nothing she called a frickin meeting about and then she tells me that Napoleon has issued an edict that I shall no longer be able to wear my black jeans to work on Fridays. That he's gotten comments from other people about it, etc.

Did I also mentioned that Napoleon ordered that my cube be reconfigured so that it is completely walled in again? Yes indeedy folks. Apparently, it is disruptive to have me be able to speak to others. Sales people were congregating by my cubicle and being loud and I heard Twiggy tell someone who'd asked her for the lowdown that, 'Well, you know, her voice carries...'. Betch. Well last week was when this magical event actually took place. So we have the jeans thing and the cubicle thing all at once.

I was not too happy about the jeans. I think my reaction to my supervisor was, "What the hell?" I just felt really picked on. Like, why can't this guy leave me alone? Next sentence, "I will just say that I think that it's very difficult for employees to know what the rules are when they only exist in the minds of this company's executives."

So again I just felt really picked on. So I talk with my favorite director, SeaBee. She lets me know that Napoleon is a pig who does not like fat people. Niiice. So now I feel even worse. I cannot overcome someone's ignorance and bigotry. Don't like me because I'm late everyday, don't like me because I call in to work every so often, don't like me because I surf the web too much, but please don't decide I'm worthless because I'm fat. Because I cannot lose weight for you or for a job.

I go home that night and cry on the Makistani's shoulder. He's so understanding and tries to comfort me. Bless his heart, he didn't say anything stupid. Check this out, it works better when you tell someone what they ought avoid saying, for example, "And DO NOT tell me that fat people get paid less and get discriminated against and that if I don't want that that I ought to lose weight!" He just says and does the right things.

Friday morning comes along and I dress in different pants, same top as usual, arrive at work and notice that Twiggy is wearing jeans, then I go and show my supervisor and ask her if anything's wrong with my appearance. Since she's in some fairyland thinking that I want to move up in this company, she says to me, "You should really wear some makeup if you want to make a good impression."

WHAT? Ok I wear makeup sometimes, but I only wear it when I bloody well feel like it and it's not covered in the dress code. So forget it, I'm not wearing it, especially because I can't now that you just told me I should! Dangit!!!! LOL I cannot look like I'm giving in to the s*xist alpha males that run this department and this company! Then the Makistani called and asked me out for lunch so I put on some makeup for him. :o) He tried really hard to say nothing stupid, but one thing slipped out, something about that they pick on people whom they're about to fire. I immediately forgave him. He tries so hard.

Anyway, I went home that night and tried to forget about this stupid week and get a more positive attitude back so that I could function. This week I am doing much better. It's so funny that I whined incessantly to so many people about this stupid thing and last week all I got was, well slap some makeup on. What's the big deal? This morning one friend called me back whom I had called last week while depressed and her answer was completely different, "DOCUMENT IT! They can't make you wear makeup!!!" lol. Well I guess this documents it.

I don't know why the happenings of last week threw me off so badly. I felt so depressed. Maybe it was because I felt like I was doing the best I could and it still wasn't good enough. Maybe it was the brush with discrimination. Well I am not going to get fired over a pair of pants so whatever on that. I am working on getting a degree right now so I can leave the world of secretaries once and for all. Then maybe I won't have to work in a department full of s*xists again. Maybe there is less s*xism in a bigger city, like Chicago...

Friday, November 02, 2007

War and Peace

    Yesterday I took some checks downstairs to the CreditNazi, also known as the DealKiller, also known as Teresa. She's on the 3rd floor. After stopping by her desk, I tooled 'round to the elevators. I was about to step onto the elevator, but then I got a nudge to stop by my friend's office. We'll call her Tummy Tuck as she got gastric bypasss a while back and then had a tummy tuck. Here's a link to a story about her before...http://asecretaryslife.blogspot.com/2007/09/bariatric-surgery-is-gamble.html

    Moving right along...

    I saw TummyTuck yesterday and she talked about how desperate she is feeling because she is gaining weight. Why, yes she is. She feels helpless. At that weight, you can barely eat anything. She is worried about getting her tummy back and many other things.

    The feeling of helplessness I sensed from her is palpable. I didn't have much to tell her except to give her food to God everyday. She's still dieting, she's going to Weight Watchers, she's excercising, she's limiting her foods, she's obsessing over her food. She's snapping at her husband and she's calling him stupid. She notices that when she refrains from doing that, her husband is nicer to her.

    Textbook case of compulsive eating. An alcoholic in his cups is not a pretty thing, and neither is a compulsive eater in her food. She hates herself because of her weight, and she takes it out on her long-suffering husband.

    I just told her that it sounds like she feels powerless over food and her life is unmanageable. The whole thing is just really sad.

    And what's even sadder is that I can relate to every bit of it. I can relate to snapping at my husband and treating him horridly. I used to act *just* like that when I was married. And it's because I was in my addiction and food was my god.

    She tried to tell me something about how some Dr. soandso from the Celebrity Fit Club or something was on Ellen the other day and Ellen was talking about how she was getting ready for the Oscars again by trying to get fit and lose some weight. She had followed the food plan exactly, done the exercise, and she had gained weight. Dr. Soandso soothes the audience, telling them that there is no limit to what stress can do to our lives. Well FYI Dr. Soandso, it ain't stress. Weight gain is a simple matter of more coming in than is going out. Simple. It's not anymore complicated than that.

    I just pray that Tummytuck will realize that she is an addict and that she needs to get better.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Another Year Goes By

And now I'm 31.

I'm now one year closer to the end of my childbearing years.

Still not married. Might be approaching it though.

The Mackistani and I are doing well. Deirdre's doing great. Work is the same as always.

Let's look back over this year!

October 2006 -- At this time last year, D had been in my care for two months. I was going crazy, she had just been kicked out of kindergarten. This is when I started to really learn the value of friends who will step up at a moment's notice. My money was still crazy and I was in the hole most of the time. I had restarted my abstinence for the last time in September. The termination of parental rights trial was on the 16th of that month and I gave my testimony but the trial was re-scheduled for later. I went to my first OA retreat. What an eye-opener.

November 2006 -- My parenting still sucked and my babysitting resources weren't quite in place yet. Still letting my family drive me nuts. We went to Thanksgiving at my parents' house and I fell asleep on the living room floor, during which time Cathleen took Deirdre into a bedrooom for a nap and when I went to go get Deirdre, she had no dress on. Oh I don't think so. Lesson learned - less exposure to biomom is a good idea. Also, started to take more ownership of my child's welfare.

Deirdre starts Behaven. Oh boy.

December 2006 -- Deirdre's first birthday party with me as her mom at Chuck E. Cheese. It was flippin' awesome. Hamster madness begins and Mommy learns that we don't like pets.

The. Worst. Christmas. Ever. I got salmonilla on Christmas eve morning and by the evening time, rockets of vile liquids were coming out both ends. Not good. My mommy brought me some fenergan that night and I learned that my Mommy will always love me and is just a human being. Deirdre gets up at the crack of dawn on Christmas day and rips into her presents. I am sleep-deprived and extremely crabby that morning. Not the best Christmas for anyone.

January 2007 -- I go on my first date since the whole no-dating bit started in March when I jettisoned Ex. It was fun and interesting to know that even at this weight, I can date and find nice, quality people.

Termination of rights trial resumes. Cathleen relinquishes and Will loses his rights. Deirdre is now technically an orphan. I feel sad and happy at the same time.

February 2007 -- I'm sure something good happened in February but I can't remember what it is. Lol.

March 2007 -- Met the Mackistani and started dating him. First impressions were not too favorable. Lol.

April 2007 -- Mackistani wants to date exclusively. Weirdo.

May 2007 -- Nothing special this month.

June 2007 -- Deirdre gets thrown out of kindergarten again. Later that month we go to my friend Angie's summer party. It's a blast. I can't remember what month it was that I elected to stop all visits with mom.

July 2007 -- Mackistani moves in. Oh dear, it's like four months to the day that we started seeing eachother!!!!

August 2007 -- Deirdre's adoption is finalized. YAY! Later that month we have the adoption party. We take D camping for the first time. She's pretty crabby. Actually both her and Mackistani were crabby. Not the most well-executed party, that's for sure.

September 2007 -- Mackistani goes on vacation to Florida. That was hard. A whole week without Mackistani!!! Jesus deliver me. Well I somehow survived and I actually did really well without him around! LOL. First anniversary of abstinence. :)

Now here we are in October. Month 13 of my abstinence was yesterday. I went to the retreat again this year and ended up with a sponsee. Wow, I am all grown up! Ok, not quite. Am contemplating moving to Chicago with Mackistani but am thinking this is a bad idea if we are not married. We'll see. I hope he doesn't move!!!! But if he does, we will be ok.

Monday, October 22, 2007

More Bliss

Ok my life is going pretty well right now. It's so cool!

I just my one-year abstinence chip. Woohoo!!! I feel better than ever! Now I just need to get my budget under control. :) Not a problem. God's will be done, not mine.

Next up, home life. It flippin rocks. Did I mention we completed the adoption of D on August 13? Yep, we are now an 'official' family!

The Mackistani has been wonderful. That relationship is amazing. We are very happy together. And the coolest thing about it is -- we have discovered that we have a shared spirituality. I love it that we have that in common. I have never had that before and it's an amazing connection to have.

He is Muslim and I used to be Roman Catholic but I have sort of abandoned that. I never really believed in all of that. Now that I have a direct connection with God, I am much more fulfilled spiritually. I haven't figured out how I relate to Jesus and all the saints, whether they are inventions of the Church or if they are real, but I only have one God and God doesn't have three parts. I secretly fear that I will go to H*ll for no longer believing in Jesus and the Catholic Church, but I guess I need to stay in today, not the hereafter.

So we are now definitely in bliss.

Unfortunately, bliss will go on hold in December when the Mackistani moves to Chicago, which I very much dread, but hopefully we'll then have pockets of weekend bliss when he visits. And then daily bliss will resume when I and the Little Devil move to Chicago, God willing.

I also secretly hope that my sister is really pyschic, since she predicted that the Mackistani and I will get married. Well a girl can dream, can't she?

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Shrinking Worlds...

My main concern right now, which I'm not sure how to solve but which I am getting closer to a solution to day by day, is that of the shrinkage of my world. I was going to say my world and the Mackistani's. Did I mention he lives with us? He does indeed.

The Mackistani used to love going to the gym, playing tennis, and stuff like that. Lately, he just comes home, waits for me to make dinner, and watches TV. D usually either tries to tickle him or irritate him, depending on her mood. I'm not saying that's bad in terms of why isn't he helping me or something. I'm saying that this cannot be helping how he feels about himself.

So last night after D goes to bed, we're sitting there watching TV.

Sick of watching TV, I say, 'You know what honey?'

'What?'

'Watching TV is boring. It makes me feel old, like I have no life, like I'm 40 and I'm just killing time until bedtime rolls around.'

'Ok, so let's shut off the TV and go to bed.'

'No, I don't want to go to bed.'

'You want me to talk to you?'

'Yes?'

'Ok, what do you want me to talk about?'

'I don't know, pick something.' Then I remembered something I'd wanted to tell him about -- two middle-aged people who were playing tongue wrestle in their ginormous gas-guzzling old Caddy in traffic today at a stoplight. Another nasty reminder that even the less-than-beautiful people still get jiggy. Never mind that we are both members of the less-than-beautiful-people party. Actually, the Mackistani told me one night, 'Honestly, you are much prettier than me.' Awww, he knows exactly what to say. :)

So then we talked for a while. We finally went to bed. But I am still thinking about this. Life doesn't feel like living unless you have plenty of human connections and self-actualization. IE You make your dreams and your wants into an actuality rather than them remaining forever a fantasy. When we're just coming home everyday, watching TV until we fall into a coma, we're wasting our lives and our time. We're not doing anythng useful except numbing out. It's like after D goes to bed, we just sit there. While she's up, things are much more lively. But at the same time, where is the love there? I don't feel all that connected then either. I mean, I feel connected to the Mackistani and to D, but we're not connecting by doing things together. I'm not sure how to put it, but I feel like something is being revealed here and I'm slowly approaching what it means. I'm getting closer to the answer.

I guess I know the answer -- turn off the dang TV. Watch one show, then turn it off and do something together, something meaningful, or at least something that feels less boring and less like we're waiting to die. Even if it's playing Candyland or Monopoly.

Extremely Important Issue Alert Update

This is extremely important. Please tuuuuune in.

No more free pop at work! There is now a SIGN on the refrigerator that houses our pop supply here at the office…"Please refrain from consuming the beverages. They are for client visits, visitors, and...something or other I can't remember what it says, I think it says...meetings."

Yeah, whatever, you cheap-a$$ secretary. Puh-lease. If no one consumed the 'beverages', they would expire, which is what has happened to many of them in recent weeks. There are NO client visits up here and very few visitors. Meetings? Oh come on. That is dumber than dumb.

This must have come about after she overheard me telling the new VP that the supplies used to be for all of the above but now there are so few client visits that it's open-season. Man, I wish I could be a quieter person!!!

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

It's Britney, B*tch

This morning I had a client visit. I am extremely irritable this morning, despite going to bed early and taking a Tylenol to boot. Two in fact, which is enough to give me a buzz, frankly.

So of course I'm running late as can be and hoping against hope the clients will not be early. I'm trying to hurry my little blossom along, but let me tell you something about my little blossom - she has a will of steel and she will not be moved any faster than she intends to move, unless you are offering either candy or money. A has caught onto this, which is why he frequently offers her either candy or money to get her to be quiet, stop fighting, or whatever else he wants her to do.

I finally drop off the little one and I'm irritated but proud of her that she is so good at taking care of herself, because that little thing bundled right up this morning in a coat and mittens though it's only raining. :) So cute.

Moving on, I arrive at work at about 8:10. The clients arrive right as I do and they are not due here until 8:30. Crazy b*st*rds. So I hurry into the EBC, oversized shoes flopping around and pants falling into said shoes, and get right to work. Thank God I had ordered catering from the Café guy, otherwise I'd have been SO screwed. I hurry up, put out the glasses, pop, and water, and hightail it outta there. My heart is beating really fast and I am super-stressed and cursing at everything.

While I walk out of the Field of Dreams conference room, I see the gent whose client visit this is walking in, and he looks at me in amazement, "Secretary, you're…here. I didn't think you were here.'

I am so serene and smile and say, 'Of course I'm here, silly,' and keep walking. I am the picture of confidence.

So as I'm walking out of the Field of Dreams lobby, Twiggy is walking in and she looks at me and goes, 'Oh. You're here. Everything's set up?'

'Yep, we're good to go,' and here's the kicker, 'I tried to call upstairs to let someone know that I'm here but I got the voicemail, otherwise I'd have let you know that all is well.' IE it's nearly 8:30 and you haven't turned that off yet? HA! Gotcha!

Well, you know I really miss Twiggy when she's not here, because then I have to answer her flipping phone. And can't get a damn thing done. Oh, wait, like right now,because she IS here, but she is yapping, so I am stuck with her phone. And it's ringing again. Fizzuck.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Wow

Every time I want to post a happy blog about something having to do with the Mackistani, I always think, 'Well ok, but just remember you might regret that later when it doesn't work out.' Gosh, what stupid thinking. I'm happy today and I need to just stay in today.

ANYWAY.

What a great weekend! On Friday we went to see Knocked Up. Sometimes it's hard seeing movies with the Mackistani. He doesn't have much of a willing suspension of disbelief going on. He's extremely grounded in reality. That's why it was hard to watch the latest installment of the Bourne trilogy, because during the fight scenes, he's in the seat next to me, muttering in his accented voice, 'This is such bullsh*t!. Bullsh*t. I call bullsh*t!' Just kidding about that last part. It was funny though, right? :o)

So then Saturday came and we spent most of the day at home but then went shopping because I needed some new clothes as I have lost some weight. I asked A to go with me as I always talk myself out of buying anything. It was fun but I felt awkward. I eventually got over it.

So here is the crown jewel of the weekend -- dancing at the gay club. We have this awesome gay dance club - The Max - www.TheMaxOmaha.com - and I had suggested that we go to it. So we did and we had a BLAST. We both agreed that I need sluttier clothes though. LOL. We're going to shop. LOL.

In other news, D got a bike this weekend. We are putting the training wheels on tonight. She is muy excited! I am too, because she just gained another two pounds. Oh no! That dang medication is reallllly chunking her out. I still think she's adorable but I am just worried about her health.

Have you ever been in love with someone and felt drunk on it or something? That's how I feel right now. Although he is an athlete and I'm not and there are some differences between us, this is the easiest relationship I have ever been in. Even easier than things were with ex boyfriend in the beginning. That beginning was over in month four, when I found out he'd been cheating.

I'm just happy, happy, happy. :o)


Sunday, September 09, 2007

Britney's Comeback...

...what a disaster. She was plainly, PLAINLY lipsynching. Secondly, her dancing was extremely slow and sluggish. Extremely. Well, I think that's to be expected, she'd been drinking left and right all weekend. She's probably hungover in the extreme. What a twit. Why doesn't she just listen to someone?

Oh, I know why. Because she's an addict.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

Bariatric Surgery is a Gamble

Today is the Sales and Marketing golf outing. Everyone has gone except for me and Supervisor. Supervisor is going out there in the afternoon to have lunch and watch the awards ceremony. Executive Assistant has my camera so she can take pictures of everyone getting drunk and Napoleon's loser face. This year, he resorted to finding out what everyone's handicap is so he could pick his team. He never wins though. Doesn't even get second place usually. He's totally cheating. But I think he might be mellowing a little bit, because yesterday he said, "I may be cheating but at least I admit it when I cheat.'

Yeah, everyone is pretty much feeling sorry for you now, Napoleon. Actually, it really stokes the competitive fire of the Directors. They just want to beat him that much more badly. I know the King certainly does.

Anyway, moving on…I think I have mentioned in this blog that two of my friends had gastric bypass surgery and one had a tummy tuck afterward. We'll call her TummyTuck.

So TummyTuck was the larger of the two of my friends and that's why she needed the TummyTuck - excess skin. She also has ginormous boobs. She has slowly been gaining her weight back. I once suggested OA to her but no dice, she was *not* interested. Well hey that's ok, it's not for everyone.

TummyTuck manages our travel department and they work extremely hard. She hired a new person who will work in Manila, Philippines and she starts Monday. TummyTuck is one of the most thoughtful people I know and she wanted to send her new hire some ABC Nuts and Bolts Company stuff. So she stopped up to see what's in the Marketing prize closet.

It's unfortunate, but it's obvious that TummyTuck has gained some more weight. She is on her way back to point A from point B. It's too bad, not for me, because I will like her no matter what, but for her, because I know how she will feel when she gets back to point A again…worthless. I just hope she can arrest her disease and avoid getting all the way back to point A. OA definitely arrested my journey back to point A (369 pounds). Thank God.

Bariatric surgery is always a gamble…it may work for a time, but once the malabsorption wears off, then you will have to work pretty hard at staying put. Which is not easy when you have a disease that you are not getting treated, IE compulsive eating.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Update

Well there's not really a whole lot to update. Since D's med change, she has been so much better. Life is about 100x easier. Thank you God for making me listen to the psychiatrist. What I don't get, though, is that she is on so many meds...oh wait, it's only two meds, just broken into many different pills. Anyway, D's therapist told me that the psychiatrist is being conservative with meds. I thought that seemed odd. I feel like D's on a lot of stuff. Mind you, this is mind-altering shit. It's not just tylenol or something. We're talking about Zoloft and Risperdal.

Sometimes I am conflicted about using meds to help D...but the alternative is not workable in our lives. I don't have a partner to help me parent this child and I don't have the resources to stay home with her. So we do the best we can do.

Meanwhile, I am trying to fire the Mackistani as my higher power. I felt so out of sorts this weekend when he first left...and a friend of mine pointed out that it was probably because my god was out of town. I did indeed find myself questioning how I do virtually everything, wondering if it met his approval or not. I don't think anyone would find that attractive. I certainly wasn't like that when we first started dating.

And doing all that worship of the Mackistani certainly is wreaking havoc on my program and on my food. So I need to correct that. My inner voice says, '...before I start gaining weight.' God says, 'Stop worrying about your weight and start working on your relationship with me and with yourself.'

Which brings me to my next question...is it worship to get all happy when he says he missed me last night? Or is that just normal? Am I being codependent when I say I can't wait till he's back? :)

Anyhoo, it's time to get in bed and prep for tomorrow with some journalling. Nighty night.

Maxine

My father is the 2nd youngest of nine children. His family lives on the West Coast and he has a decent relationship with them. Therefore, I also have a decent relationship with them. My mom is  the second oldest of 14…and she does not have a decent relationship with her family. I have a relationship with some members of her family, namely my Uncle Dougie. Whom she named. Whom he resents for same.

Just kidding.

Anyway, the point is that I get these joke emails from my dad's family. And as far as I can tell, I am the youngest of the first cousins. The other first cousins are anywhere from 40 to 60. I am 30. See?

This, then, would explain why I receive flippin Maxine emails left and right. You know Maxine, right? Emails about Maxine are usually stuff like, 'I have five boyfriends. One of them is named Charlie Horse. He takes a lot of my time and attention while he's here. Then there's Art Ritis. Then at the end of a long day, I go to bed with Ben Gay.'

How much more need I say? I'm 30. I don't have arthritis. I don't need Ben Gay after weeding a garden, although I don't actually have a garden to weed. I'm so tempted to tell my cousins to quit sending me Maxine jokes, but you know at least they're sending me something, right? Family is family.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Not a Fan of Reality...

Last night we came home and D was acting absolutely out of her mind. Mackistani was out on the back porch, talking on the phone with a friend. D of course made a beeline for the back porch. So then he moved to the bathroom, trying to avoid D.

I finally got D calmed down and she went to bed. I was pretty upset; it was a full-blown rage and just absolutely exhausting. I changed into my nightgown, grabbed my journal, and started writing. This is part of my process. It helps me get my thoughts clear and to get all the junk out of my head.

Soon I hear the doorknob jiggling. Mr. Hand-Eye Coordination couldn't figure out how to pop the lock on the bedroom door with the stick I'd provided. It is a simple lock, just meant to provide the leanest of privacy…ie to let people know 'hey don't come in here' and to fool children into thinking they can't get in a room, when in fact they could easily pop the lock had they the inkwell to a ballpoint pen to stick in the lock. I finally had to let him in. I really didn't want to be around anybody. I needed to get some crying done so I could feel better.

Crying is like a pressure valve for me. It is hard to be spat on and to have your clothes ruined by the drain cleaner that your child splashed on you. It is even harder when you can't restrain the child because you're not strong enough and then to have the child ask if they put the drain cleaner in your mouth, would you die? That's not a big deal of a question from a normal child. You don't fear that your normal child will actually think that trying to kill you one day. But when you have a RAD child, you've read about RADs growing up with all kinds of disorders and growing up without a conscience. It's just scarier. Everything takes on a whole new meaning.

So the Mackistani comes in. We'll just call him Boyfriend. He sits down and is talking to me, and he, without any prompting from me, begins to explain why he was trying to get away from D during her rage. I thought it was just because, well, anyone would. And he probably wanted privacy, which he surely can have. But what comes out of his mouth is entirely not what I expected.

"My friends don't know I'm staying with you. I have always lived on my own and so I am not telling them I'm staying with you. It's a class thing. It's my culture. You might not understand."

I confess, I intellectually understood but not emotionally. And then it continues, that this was meant to be temporary and he might move out next month. Unless I want him to stay. Which I do, but not if that is not what he wants. But then it continues some more.

So we have this very realistic talk, that he needs to evaluate whether he can live with D permanently. And whether my family drama is going to be something he can tolerate.

For my part, I express that I'm not part of their drama in a material sense. And I express that if he doesn't want to commit, then it might be a good idea to express a consistent idea. Instead of calling my dad his future father-in-law one day and then telling me he's moving out the next day.

Can I be honest here and just say it is awfully hard to trust someone who is so inconsistent? How do I know what he's going to be doing on this week long trip to Florida?

I don't understand, everything seemed to be going so well and we were happy…am I just being used? I know there IS an understanding of this in my head somewhere…but I can't seem to access it right now.

This morning, he was his usual charming, loving self, connected to me, interested in me, and in love with me. Should I really even trust someone who is this inconsistent?

I'm not going to break up with him. I love him. I just need to relax and let it be what it's going to be, and stop trying to make it something else, something bigger than what it is.

But, you know, combined with all D's stuff, the extremely stressful week that I've had, and everything else, I have just had enough this week. I wish I could escape.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

I think I might have a large facial orifice

There is this baby-faced salesperson that recently joined our staff and he's the youngest in the department now, maybe with the exception of the white-hot, fashion-plate marketing assistant who's thin as a whippet.

So anyway, I recently reviewed some letters he had already printed and signed and wanted me to mail out for him. I found something like six or seven typos in them and let him know so he could make a good impression. This is what I am paid to do, folks.

Yesterday he brought me some more letters. My ego was so excited. He hands me the letters and then he's walking away and I say, "Ok, I'll just look these over and make sure they're not embarrassing."

He goes, "Wow, that is insulting."

He was kidding, but I felt so guilty all day lol. No, seriously, I really did.

So then today he's coming back from lunch with the King, and he stops by my desk and brings the King with him.

He tells the King about the little situation yesterday and I defended myself, saying, "Well, he brought me some letters one time and there were six or seven errors in them. It looked like he didn't have a college education!!"

Oh dear…someone please gag me!!! LOL

What followed next was a discussion that included the expression that the reason I can be so abrasive lol is because every salesperson here has a ginormous ego and can definitely take it. LOL.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

On what planet is Tom Cruise actually taller than Katie Holmes?

Look at the picture and you'll understand. Glad he's doing something different with his hair. Thank God!!!

One word: LIFTS.

Monday, August 13, 2007

The Temp Has Been Fired

B*tch FUBAR'd a couple CEO and COO phone calls…ERG. Damn Master's degree…

…Now I'm going to be stuck dealing with the phones all the cotton pickin time. Fizzuck.

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

Cranky

It makes me a little cranky that Marketing asks me to proof their stuff, I offer my edits and they're not taken seriously. Then I have the temp who has the big brain offer her edits and now the same edits that I recommended receive greater weight, all because the temp has a master's.

What a load of BS.

Diarrhea

D is trying soooooo hard to be sick right now so she can go to sick kid daycare, where they play games and watch movies and have no discipline lol

so this morning she fakes vomit by either making herself puke or by chewing up some fruit and whatnot and spitting it into a bowl.

Next up, she goes potty in the morning and says to me, with maximum joy, 'I have DIARRHEA!!!!!'

Well this munchkin has faked being sick so many times, I just say, 'Ok, thanks for letting me know.'

 Sure enough, she had a loose stool. I take her temperature, no fever, no nothing, so I tell her to get dressed. I do not say where she's going today.

'Are you tricking me?'

'No, please get dressed.'

A short while later, 'It's time to go.'

So on the way down the stairs, she goes, 'Are we going to Behave'n?'

'Yep.'

'But I have DIARRHEA!'

'No, you had a loose poopy. Diarrhea is when your poop is uncontrollable.'

Now wait for it..
....wait for it....

'But my poop is going WILD!!!!'

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

We're having bliss, people

Ok people, we are officially having bliss. Wow this guy is awesome! The more I find out about him, the more I love him. It's amazing. And the more I find out that my assumptions were wrong.

It's also kinda scary. What if it doesn't work out? Ok I am just not going to think about that today!

Thursday, August 02, 2007

What is significant about this picture?


This is a top story on Yahoo. About the laptop batteries.

Look at the woman in the picture. Why is this significant?

Wednesday, August 01, 2007

The Mackistani, aka Boyfriend

I think I'm in love. Like real love.

Now I've been dating this guy for about four months. And he's staying with us for a month. I didn't trust him for a long time because I've been so screwed over before. And he sure didn't seem to be in any rush to take down his dating profile online. But last night we talked and things changed.

And today I feel really, really happy.

And what's odd about it is that it's so calm. I'm just happy. Today I might escalate that to ecstatic.

I haven't posted anything to the blog about it, not really. I posted something about Mr. Exclusivity. This is the same guy. Let's rename him!

Lol how about this?

The Mackistani?

No…cultural reference is too obscure. You know, like…'Oooo, girl, he is totally mackin' on her.' + Pakistani = Mackistani LOL

Hmmm…nah, let's just call him Boyfriend.

Sponsor has her doubts, I know. And she's usually right. So I will be careful and tread lightly.

For now. :o)

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Britney Spears

So many bad pictures of Britney come out everyday that I wonder if the paparazzi are now getting paid more for horrid pictures of that tart than they get paid for good ones.

http://socialitelife.com/2007/07/31/fashion_disaster_britney_spears.php#more

Temporary Irritations #200

WHY

Is every single f*ckin temp we hire obsessed with her g*dd*mned weight?

If I have to listen to one more temp talk about how she weighs herself everyday, is on Weight Watchers, or her husband's bugging her about her big a$$, I'll slit my wrists! F*CK!!

Oh and I'm soooo talking to supervisor about whom to hire next time. This one sucks. She can't learn a d*mn thing; what's ironic is she used to frickin teach this subject in high school.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

I'm sick of being selfless.

My feelings are weighing heavily on me today. Each thing I do feels as though it takes a gargantuan amount of energy to accomplish.

I mentioned to D when I picked her up yesterday that I had reserved the time and space for our adoption party at the YMCA. At dinner, when I reminded D that she ought to be grateful that she has a mom who takes care of her and that I had not really had that, I was promptly schooled that I am not her real mom. And that her real mom folds her laundry. And makes her dinner.

"Oh really? And how does she do that? With magic fairy dust?"

"Yes."

Ok, kid, you got me there. I didn't expect that.

So it was off to family therapy shortly thereafter. It went ok. I was dismayed that D admitted she's not too happy about this adoption and then asked the counselor, not me, for a hug.

Later that night, I talked to my sponsor and she was like, well, yes, that is what we talked about.

So I guess I need to adjust my expectations. I want the happy family, etc., but I want it my way, not the way that God seems intent on providing it to me.

Tomorrow will probably be different...

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Temporary Irritations #231

God I hate temps…we have a perfectly pleasant temp right now, though. Her name is Anne. Anne is an older lady, very pleasant and helpful, and very bored, which is common among the temps that we hire. This may explain their overly-helpful nature.

They always think they can do your job better than you can. You're sitting there at your desk cursing at your computer and they're so damn 'helpful'.

'Damn formula! Why can't you just WORK!?'

Temp chimes in. 'Formulas? You're working on formulas? I thought she just wanted a bar chart.'

Hello! I don't want to f'in explain it. I'm talking to MYSELF. It's my inner monologue gone crazy, UNDERSTAND?

FRICK.

Friday, June 29, 2007

Reactions

1. Being asked to reformat a PowerPoint that's all screwed up…
….It's a personal affront to me that someone could possibly screw up a PowerPoint, ignoring our marketing standards, because surely they must have known that I would be called on to fix their FUBAR'd presentation! How dare they create more work for me?!

2. Being asked to do something NOW…
…How dare you assume I have nothing to do simply because I'm reading A Socialite's Life and checking my Yahoo mail? I am taking a much-needed mental break from my demanding job. You know, your lack of planning does not constitute my emergency, dude.

3. Being asked to put paper in the copier…
…Why? Are you too STUPID to open a drawer and put paper in it, moron?!

4. Geico Callers…
…No, I don't know Geico's number, fat fingers. I'm not directory assistance and stop interrupting my reading of important celebrity gossip and watching Britney Spears develop borderline personality disorder in front of our very eyes.

That's about it. I'm too tired to write any more on this post…I am starting to plot how I can maybe get to leave early today, but there's close to zero chance of that happening.

Revelation #10: Paris Hilton doesn't do drugs...

Little Paris Hilton doesn't do drugs.

Not according to the Smoking Gun...http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2007/0628071parishilton1.html

LOL. What *was* she smoking?

Paris Hilton

Ahhh, Paris Hilton.

I know that at least one of my two readers is going to read this and think, "You hardly ever write in your blog and your most recent post is about Paris Hilton?"

But surely you saw that interview with Larry King. Let me, from memory, paraphrase my favorite part:

"You were seen with a Bible prior to going to jail."

"Yes."

"So you're religious?"

"I'm more spiritual than religious."

"Catholic? You go to Mass?"

"Yes." Now she looks kinda scared…since she just told a lie lol. Honey, most people don't go churchin' on Sunday these days, you don't need to tell him what you think he wants to hear.

"So did you take your Bible to jail with you?"

"Well, you're not allowed to take anything with you into Lynwood. I ordered one off the commissary list though."

"Oh ok. So you read the Bible a lot in jail?"

"Yes." So introspective and philosophical, this one.

"So what was your favorite verse?"

*silence*

"Umm…" Now she's looking around…maybe she's hoping Jesus will float down from the heavens and whisper in her ear, 'Jesus wept', the shortest verse in the Bible.

"Let's see…." More looking around.

"I don't really have a favorite verse."


Monday, June 18, 2007

Music

I'm so thankful we can listen to music at work.

I don't feel particularly inspired today, about the funniest thing that's happened today is that I was listening to a Hilary Duff song and turned it down because I was afraid someone might hear…and notice that I was listening to Hilary Duff…she's not that bad, ok?!

Other than that, I pissed off the King today. I was neglectful and lazy and procroastinor-y because I didn't act on the knowledge, which I obtained with my psychic abilities last Wednesday, that his clients would be 30 minutes early today. 'See, that's why I wanted all this in place on Thurday or Friday.' On Thursday or Friday, I was helping other people who needed their stuff asap too. I know you're the human equivalent of the Sun, Your Highness, but no one else seems to recognize that. Forgive them, Highness, they know not what they do.

I like this dude, but he needs to lay off the prima donna act. Sure, I could've worked a little faster on his stuff this morning, but everyone else here is high-maintenance too. I can't just put them off.

That's about it for now folks.

Friday, June 15, 2007

The Story of Crabby

Secretary: crabby just stopped by.
Secretary: she is feuding with her department's executive assistant.
Secretary: she came up with a new way to order office supplies.
Secretary: it's innovative.
Secretary: wanna know what it is?
RicoSuave: Sure...go for it
Secretary: it's efficient it's effective it's so wonderful it's almost defective!
Secretary: lol
Secretary: 'gimme some goddamn staples, BETCH!'
RicoSuave: Excuse me...shouldn't that have been spelled....BIOTCH?
Secretary: no.
RicoSuave: LOL
Secretary: you need to look up kelly's song, shoes, on youtube.
Secretary: then you'll understand.
RicoSuave: OK...that sounds interesting

Oh you bet your a$$ it is.

Tuesday, June 12, 2007

It's Time to Blog

I have this very, very, very dear friend of mine, we'll call him Rico Suave, which is actually what he named himself for purposes of referral in this blog. And he said to me one day, 'I hope you never post about me in your blog, because if you do, it'll mean that I've screwed up big time.' That is very accurate. Most of what I post here is a big fat whine. It's a place to vent and get over stuff.

Yes, I have almost 30 things on my to-do list (but many are crossed offfffff). Yes, I barely have time to breathe and don't  know how I'm going to find time to do expenses today, even though they desperately need doing.

But I need to vent because I am taking people's heads off.

I have five or six client visits these three days, including today. All of them have printing/binding needs, many of them have meals involved.

But ONE director is driving me nuts in particular. He has a client visit tomorrow and it's in another building.

And he wants me to actually transport china and silverware over to this building. I feel a bit like a putz, because after I initially responded to his query with, 'Are you kidding?', I caved. Never mind that it's going to be f*ckin hotter than a popcorn fart tomorrow, never mind that I have a lot of other more important stuff to do, and who cares that it might break along the frickin way and then must be transported back here dirty?!!! What a flippin prima donna!

Of course I caved.

Administrative assistant is a fancy f*ckin word for, 'Not allowed to say no.' He said he would carry the damn plates. You wouldn't believe the stuff that's come out of Supervisor's mouth before, like for example, 'Sure, you can go ahead and complain. Just make sure no one hears you.' 'Just say yes and thank you, then go somewhere else and complain.' So the image of the administrative staff is that of people who'll do anything you say.

We're so PLEASANT to work with because we never point out how stupid or wasteful your dumb a$$ is. We just say yes.

Today I hate my job. Yesterday I was happy with it. Tomorrow will be better. I just need to keep myself from making my feelings into the problem of others. *I* need to deal with them.

Honestly, I think I just feel really angry right now and I'm pretty sure it's not really because of my job. I think it has more to do with my home life. My little blossom had violent fits on Thursday and Friday and I think I'm still ticked off about it. I mean, I accept that this is just who she is, but I haven't really decompressed from it yet. I've just been maintaining, really. Just been suriving. I didn't really deal with it, I just got through it. I didn't even really cry over it. I have to admit, I didn't like being kicked in the face twice. I didn't like being slapped and bitten on the arm. At least she didn't do it like she meant it. No damage.

I wanted to beat the living sh*t out of her, which I of course would not even consider actually doing, and I didn’t appreciate it that the chick from Bschool seemed to disapprove that after taking a second round of blows to the face, I stepped out of D's room and screamed my guts out because I was upset. I'm so sick of being judged by people who AREN'T EVEN RAISING CHILDREN, let alone a child with REACTIVE ATTACHMENT DISORDER, let alone DOING IT BY THEMSELVES. I don't see what the problem with my course of action was. I'm terribly sorry that my six year old terrorist actually heard that, yes, kicking someone does indeed hurt their feelings and tick them off. Imagine that.

God I need a nap.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

The Saga of Therapy Boy

Sooooo, remember that guy who called me passive aggressive? What did we call him?....Ah yes, Therapy Boy.

Ok so I had told a friend of mine at work about Plenty of Fish. She said she had a friend who was perpetually single and really, really wanted to get married and have babies. So I said, 'Hey, check out Plenty of Fish. It's huge and it's free.' So that's what her friend did. Hmmm….let's call my friend Crabby; trust me, it fits.

One day, Crabby stops by my cube and asks me how dating was going and I told her about Therapy Boy and how he'd said I was passive aggressive and stuff. We both agreed that his instincts were right; he does indeed belong in therapy.

A few weeks later, Crabby stopped by and told me about her friend's experience with Plenty of Fish. She said that her friend had met someone on there who seemed promising. 'That's great!' I felt like a co-conspirator in someone's happiness. So then Crabby told me that her friend's prospect lives in Crabby's neighborhood, and apparently some of the neighborhood soccer moms had decided that their husbands shouldn't associate with this degenerate, because there were rumors he had cheated on his wife and stuff and that's why they were divorced. Something started clicking for me and I asked Crabby what her friend's prospect's name was. And guess what? Oh yes. It was our Therapy Boy.

Now between the time that Therapy Boy had called me passive aggressive and had met Crabby's friend, he had come back to me saying that he missed me, etc. Yippy skippy. So we'd seen eachother again and all that happy stuff. I think that during at least part of the time that we were talking and he was flirting, he was probably seeing Crabby's friend. So I felt like he probably was not an entirely honest person. Next up, I hear that Crabby's friend and Therapy Boy are getting along famously. Within a week or two, I found out that Crabby's friend and Therapy Boy now know eachother in the Biblical sense and they were knowing eachother in the Biblical sense exclusively, although Therapy Boy had recently been propositioning me and continuing to flirt.

I chose not to divulge this information. Why stir up drama? It's not like they were engaged and it's not like anything was actually happening as a result of Therapy Boy's entreaties. The only thing I told Crabby was that I had asked him how dating was going and did he have a new girlfriend or anything? His answer was, 'Nope.' Hmmmm…

So as time went on, I occasionally inquired with Crabby as to how things were going. Meanwhile, Therapy Boy propositioned me one more time and after being turned down again, he stopped bugging me. I took him off my friends list, which I like to keep neat and tidy and populated only by real friends. :) Hence it is a fairly short list. I recently removed Mr. Wrong from it; we were supposedly 'friends' but how is it a friendship when someone never answers you and never messages you? It's not. So now my list is one shorter. Moving on…

Crabby stopped by my desk today and I asked her, 'So how is your friend doing with her prospect?'

'Apparently, they stopped seeing eachother last week. He wasn't returning her phone calls and so it all happened via IM.'

'Oh how cowardly. What happened?'

'Remember how he called you passive aggressive? How did he put it again?'

'Well, I had said something sarcastic and he said to me, 'I just can't be in a relationship with someone who's passive aggressive'.'

'Well, he said the same thing to her.  I think he's got something wrong with him.'

'Hmmm, you might be right about that.'

So there is the end of the Therapy Boy saga. May it rest in peace. If you want my personal opinion of Therapy Boy, which I am sure you do not, and which I will be sure to share anyway, it is that Therapy Boy needs to be in Program. I couldn't presume to say which one, but he needs one of them. Probably OA. Poor Therapy Boy...

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

High Maintenance

It's hard to believe but our department is so high-maintenance that tech support has an eternally open ticket that calls for them to come up here and check with us once a week to find out if we need anything. The tech guys come upstairs and shoot the proverbial crap with me for a while, then they leave. One of them sometimes leaves me 'Jesus money'. It's a fake dollar bill that says it's a 50 or 100, and when you pick it up and turn it over, it says something about, 'You'd be a lot happier with eternal life, wouldn't you?' I don't know…would eternal life make me this tired?

I guess this sort of dovetails with the guy who called me into this office this morning because he couldn't figure out why, when he clicked on one email, several were selected. He spent twenty minutes trying to figure it out. So I went in there and hit the shift key and it was fixed. I laughed so hard on my way out of that office. No, no, I wasn't cruel, he was laughing too, and then the big kahuna who sits next to his office also started laughing. Classic. :)

I haven't posted much here lately. Everything is going really well, including work. It's busy around here with Supervisor on vacation. This is her last week of vacation. God, if she ever retires, I'm quitting. The way things look, I might quit earlier. But she's only got two more years, and next year I'll have another week of vacation. Hmmm…that presents a problem. How can I leave three weeks of vacation?

D and I have family therapy tonight. I'm so tired, even though I got plenty of sleep last night, that I wish we could just skip it. Also, I will probably have to play dress-up. I hope this doesn't suck big time.

Right now life is good. D is improving all the time, and my life seems too juicy for containment right now. I have too many choices. School looms in the distance as a ginormous sucker of free time. Sometimes I think, why the heck am I doing this to myself? As it gets closer, I get a little more fearful.

Ok, back to work. Y'all have a nice day now. :)

Friday, May 18, 2007

Do you feel the same?

So, tell me something, do you feel this way too?

Every time I get in my car and drive somewhere, I feel like I'm helping to kill the Earth!!!!

When I see how much trash that we accumulate and throw out, all I can think about is 'where is this trash going to be put? How much trash can our planet deal with?' I have four trashbags in my living room right now, ready to be taken to the dumpster. Yeah….FOUR. AND my bathroom trashcan is full and needs to be emptied, as does my kitchen trashcan. So, actually, I have SIX. It's CRAZY. And, tonight, at home, I'm going to be decluttering 27 items that I no longer love or use (thanks Flylady), so that'll be even more crap. God, what is wrong with us? Why in the Hell do I have so much crap that I don't even want????? Must I fill every flippin space with something? Geez!!! Then we take the clutter to the Goodwill, and why do we do that? So someone else can bring our clutter home and clutter up their house??? What????

Then, when I buy gas, I think about, 'How much longer can our society sustain and survive such high gas prices, which are only going to get higher?'

What if gas gets to $4.00 a gallon? It would cost $60 to fill up my car. Which I now feel stupid for having bought, because it sucks gas! I miss the 30 miles per gallon that my crappy little Escort station wagon got. That rocked. It's kind of like breaking up with a guy…I have to keep referring to my, 'The Truth About That Car' list.

Soon, driving a Hummer will no longer be a badge of wealth like it is now. It'll be a badge of SUPER wealth. The social and economic status (and conspicuous consumerism) that the Hummer itself now represents will soon be represented by the simple fact of whether one can afford to drive or not.

Well, hey, if the world ends or it gets too expensive to drive, at least we know we'll lose some weight, don't we? I mean, the obesity epidemic might actually take care of itself. LOL. BECAUSE WE'LL BE WALKING EVERY_FRICKIN_WHERE!

Where is the cry in Omaha about improving mass transportation, hmmm? It sucks a$$ right now. Why is no one talking about this?? Pretty soon, we're going to need it.

And I don't mean the Hummer drivers…I mean the folks that work at McDonald's, the secretaries, the TEACHERS, the teenagers, the baggers, the cashiers, the cleaners, the babysitters. *They* are the ones who are going to desperately need improved mass transportation. Because, God knows, they are the people who can least afford to either convert their existing car to electric OR buy a brand spankin new $20,000 Prius or other small electric car. So, again, WHY is no one saying anything about about this? WTF?


Friday, May 04, 2007

GM Ads

Read this. It's flippin funny.

http://www.itnews.com.au/newsstory.aspx?CIaNID=31376

Coordinates of the Rich and Famous

She really makes some very good points. But I wonder if it has gone a little far. I do believe there is a fair bit of commercialism in celebrities and the paparazzi, and that there probably is a symbiotic relationship there.

However, why shouldn't celebrities get to control their image? Their image is what they parlay into a living. Do they really have more to offer than that? Why shouldn't they be concerned about their bottom line? If someone was doing something that was going to jeopardize how I make my living, I'd be p*ssy too. Except that I do that myself on a day-to-day basis. By posting to my blog from this computer. But at least I don't say anything nasty about the company…except for that RFP post.

Never mind!!!!!

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/04/opinion/04gould.html?th&emc=th

By EMILY GOULD
Published: May 4, 2007

WHEN I agreed to represent Gawker, the Web site I co-edit, on an episode of “Larry King Live” last month, I didn’t expect to be shouted at, cut off, talked down to and told that I was going to hell. But as everyone who caught the show — or has seen it since on YouTube — knows, that’s exactly what happened, courtesy of Mr. King’s fill-in, Jimmy Kimmel. If you saw the clip, you probably noticed that I looked sort of stunned. I even rolled my eyes a few times. Here’s why.

Mr. Kimmel’s real target was the Gawker Stalker Map, a regular feature that displays brief, user-generated celebrity sightings on a map of Manhattan. He especially took issue with an entry last summer, when a tipster had reported that Mr. Kimmel was “visibly drunk and talking loud.”

It’s hard to believe that Mr. Kimmel, a late-night talk show host who has made on-air inebriation a cornerstone of his public image, was truly upset that people knew he’d gone out drinking. So what was he really angry about?

More likely, Mr. Kimmel was trying to defend the symbiotic relationship that has existed between celebrities and the mainstream entertainment media since the dawn of Hollywood, and which the Internet is steadily eroding.

Mr. Kimmel pointed out that we “post things that simply aren’t true,” and he’s right: some sightings do turn out to be false. But his real problem may be that most of our sightings are the truest to be found anywhere.

The stalker map sightings aren’t verified or vetted by publicists, and we won’t publish sightings that seem to come from publicists, though we receive many. Our posts are written by ordinary people with no obligation to tone down their insults in order to maintain access to a celebrity, as gossip reporters must — a recent sighting describes Hilary Swank as resembling “JonBenet Ramsey, but prettier and not dead,” a characterization that would probably never find its way into Us Weekly.

Is there anyone who reads the Page Six column in The New York Post or Star magazine credulous enough to believe that starlets are really “spotted” enjoying, say, a specific brand of vodka? Those glamorous sightings, flattering both celebrity and product, are the antithesis of Gawker Stalker, which often captures stars in quotidian, boring moments. Our sightings anger the rich and famous because it’s impossible for them to control their coverage by an unlimited number of anonymous writers the way they can with the smallish cadre of reporters in the mainstream news media.

Another canard that Mr. Kimmel dug up was the supposed threat to celebrities’ safety posed by the stalker map. Since the sightings aren’t posted in anything like real time, it would be a ludicrously ineffective tool for “real” stalkers.

When I mentioned this, Mr. Kimmel changed his tack, deploring the invasion of celebrities’ privacy. But why do celebrities find this “invasion” so much more reprehensible than the “invasion” represented by the carefully posed pictures and meticulously constructed narratives that we see in celebrity weeklies and newspaper society pages?

Imagine, for a moment, that you’re a celebrity who wants to show off a new hair color, is trying to land a coveted role or needs to drum up interest in a new movie or TV show. You, or more likely your publicist, call up some favorite photographers and tell them in advance where you’ll be clubbing that night. You work hard to make sure that people are going to see you exactly the way you’d like them to — and whether that’s panty-less or picture-perfect depends on what you’re selling.

But the Internet, instead of relying on the expertise of an incestuous network of reporters and managers and publicists and photographers, gets its information from an army of anonymous strangers. And no matter how long and hard celebrities work to get the well-timed, utterly staged attention that’s going to be most profitable for them, the Internet can circumvent those efforts in a heartbeat. Celebrities like Mr. Kimmel who pretend that this new generation of gossip is hurting their feelings are covering up their real concern — that it’s hurting their bottom lines.

The effects of Internet-based, user-generated gossip aren’t limited to the stars themselves, of course. Publicists’ jobs are made more difficult when clients blame them for not being able to manipulate coverage by controlling access. And celebrity lawyers find themselves confused, to say the least, by the flexible, ephemeral nature of blogs: if a cease-and-desist order arrives, the remedy’s usually as quick and simple as taking the offending post down. Also threatened — though less so — are the paparazzi. True, their services are more in demand than ever. But the near-instantaneous diffusion across the Internet of celebrity images damages their ability to charge magazines and newspapers insane prices for their photographs.

Certainly, the stalker sightings invade celebrities’ privacy. Because of the Internet, they can no longer demand attention only when they’ve got something to promote, and are subject instead to constant scrutiny. But these stars deserve only as much sympathy as the people who get fired because their employers discover a “my boss is awful” blog posting. There’s just more information available to more people, about more people, than ever these days.

Supermarket tabloids and gossip columns still sell the illusion that stars live in a different world from the rest of us; but the Internet has created a new reality, and we’re all living in it together.

Emily Gould is the co-editor of the Web site Gawker.