Another Successful Interaction With a Man

Long-term readers of my blog are familiar with my verbosity, but I have a treat for anyone out there who might prefer that I include more visual aids to my posts. Today I have not one but 2 videos to illustrate this post.

This one explains where I got the title for the post.


Allow me to explain why I can relate to this clip so much.

I should have seen it coming. That was stupid of me. After what he did on New Year's Eve, I knew in the back of my head he'd do something again. But after two months of blissful dating, I let my guard down. And I paid for it.

For the first two months of this year, I was floating on air. MM was great! He was super into me, we really clicked, he was a great kisser and really fun to be around. He even wanted to be my Valentine and took me out to a really nice restaurant. I bragged to my mom about how how he always turned his cell phone off when he was with me and was always wholly focused on me when he was with me.

The thing was, something about him made me not trust him. Yes, the NYE stunt was part of that. But eventually I began to realize that
A) He was a little too good to be true. Any guy that seems to always tell you what you want to hear is bad news bears, in my experience. He seemed to look for reasons to tell me I was doing something "hot". Last time I checked, a girl watching football isn't "hot". She's just watching football. I think he was just trying to butter me up. He would text me during working hours, telling me he can't stop thinking about me. He told me that seeing me once a week was not enough and he definitely could see me every day. He would talk about taking vacations several months from now and "if we're still together, you're definitely coming with me!" Like an idiot, I lapped all this up like a hungry little puppy. This was my reward for being so forgiving after the NYE let down! This guy was all about me! Thank goodness I was open to giving him a second chance. He was obviously worth it. *mental pat on the back*

and the other thing bugging me, waaay in the back of my mind was....

B) I was not in any way, shape or form, being included in his life. After 2 months of dating, I had yet to meet any of his friends or anyone who knew him at all. And based on a phone conversation with his sister that I overheard, I could tell she didn't even know I existed. I was sitting right next to him when he said he was "just hanging out with a friend". Apparently, despite the fact that he'd seen me with some of my clothing removed and we made out all the time, I still only qualified as a friend. WTF.

Now, I am not a pushy kind of girl when it comes to dating. I am fairly patient with all the various stages of dating. But after 2 months, you don't feel the need to introduce me to anyone you know? Or at least tell people you're seeing someone? I was starting to feel like a secret. For all I knew, he could have some other girl or a girlfriend or who knows what else?! It began to bother me. I could wait on meeting family, but I can't even meet your 2 best guy friends? We can't even double date with them and their girlfriends? Your sister can't even know you're dating someone?

About a month ago, we went to Williamsburg and went to the outlet malls there. I was flattered that he decided to spend his whole day off with me. And you don't drive an hour out of town to spend the day shopping with someone if you don't really like them. I mean, this is something that couples do! We were definitely on the way to being a couple. I could feel it.

But he acted a little funny that day. He seemed really self-absorbed and preoccupied. For the first time, he was on his phone when he was with me. Something crazy at work. But what bothered me the most, I think, was that he was not affectionate with me at all. Come to think of it, he had never been publicly affectionate with me! I started to get annoyed after realizing all of this on the way home. I had made dinner, so he came over to eat with me, and we talked. I dropped a hint about feeling like a secret and wanting to meet his friends. He said that would be fun and we could do it on Saturday. Whew! That's a relief. See, it just hadn't occurred to him yet, that's all. He stayed at my house as late as he possibly could that night (yes, there was serious making-out -- I told you he's an excellent kisser!), and then kissed me good-bye and told me he hoped I would have a good day the next day. All perfectly normal.

I didn't hear from him the next day (a Tuesday), which was normal and fine. But by Thursday night, I was feeling anxious. I texted him. Turns out, he was sick. Ah, yes, of course. No worries. I asked him if he needed anything and he said no. I told him I hope he feels better and went to bed. The next day, I asked how he was feeling. He said he was better, but would probably have to work all weekend to make up some stuff from work. Guess that means hanging out with his friends on Saturday was out of the question. He said that was probably true, but he might be able to finish in time to still go out.

I didn't hear from him on Saturday. On Sunday morning, I log into facebook, and find that his buddies have posted all these pics of them hanging out together the night before. I was crushed.

After moping around most of the weekend, I went into work the next Monday. It also happened to be my birthday. MM texted me to ask how my weekend was. Seriously??! Why do men pull shit like this and then act like nothing is wrong? Do they think that a woman has the memory of a goldfish?

"Well, I'm having a good birthday so far," I replied.
"Oh, I'm such a bonehead! It is your birthday!" he replied.
Yes. It is my fucking birthday, you piece of shit. You are definitely a bonehead, I thought.
I didn't reply.
A few seconds later, he texted me again: "Did you defriend me on FB?"
"Honestly, I didn't think I'd ever hear from you again," I replied.
He claimed to be shocked and confused, despite the fact that he had blown me off for a week. He said he didn't want to have this conversation on my birthday and that he'd call me later in the week. Fine. Whatever.

Two days later, he called and apologized, but the conversation was definitely tense. I was still pretty pissed off and hurt. We caught up briefly and he said he'd call me again later. And that was the last I've heard of him. Which brings me to video #2, an awesome song I just discovered (sorry, I'm probably the last person on Earth to discover this song, so bear with me!) -- this song pretty much captures exactly how I felt at the time:


Considering I am 33 and this is the first guy I have dated (heck, the first guy I have WANTED to date) in 2 and a half years, it was kind of a blow to me, I'm not gonna lie. I'm just now feeling like I am over him and it took me several tries to write this post. I've been running. A lot. I think I've lost about 10 pounds, actually. But I digress.

I'm just so mad at myself. I broke all my own rules:
1. Don't date a guy who is ok with disappointing you
2. Don't date a guy who makes you cry
3. Wait, wait, wait and wait some more to get nekkid with a guy. At least until you have girlfriend status and have met some of his friends.
4. If a guy tells you everything you want to hear, it's because he's blowing smoke up your ass and it's coming out through your empty, idiot head and into your ears.
5. Listen to your gut. My gut said, "Don't date him, you will regret it." I chose to ignore this particular loud-and-clear gut warning. Dumb, VB. Very dumb.

The part that hurt the most was the disappearing act. Right around my fricking birthday. At the age of 34, you'd think a guy could grow a pair and break things off quickly, honestly and humanely. But no. He pulled a stunt that no one had pulled on me since I was in my early 20s. When I realized this, that's when it all started to make sense: As a recent divorcee, he is starting to date again after being off the market for approximately 7 years. So emotionally, he's a frat boy. Which is why he basically hit it and quit it. I'm just one in what will probably be a long line of new toys for this boy. (Like the rhyming? Cuz I can keep going. No? Alright.) Glad I can be of service in helping you get over the fact that your ex-wife left you. I'm here to please. No really. My feelings don't matter. Just do whatever you want to me. Because I have s-u-c-k-e-r written in Sharpie, right across my forehead, apparently.

But let's talk about possible reasons his wife may have left him, shall we? Because this list made me feel waaaaaaay better once I put it together.
1. bad credit
2. baggage. Baggage for days and days. And I'm not just referring to his 2 kids and ex-wife. (I actually don't mind the kids, just for the record.)
3. beer gut (normally I don't mind that, but he should really hit the gym)
4. possible binge drinker (based strictly on his own descriptions of fb photos)
5. Well, I can't really put it any better than Lily Allen, so here's a song you can listen to which describes many of the things I am too nice to spell out directly to you. *ahem*

After my moping phase was done, I got to the point where I had to decide the extent to which I wanted him erased from my life. FB was already taken care of, thankfully, so I would be prevented from stalking. Then, I got a new phone, so all my old text message conversations are all gone. But do I delete the number, exposing myself to a surprise call from an unrecognizable number? Or do I keep it there, as a depressing reminder of yet another failed relationship, so at least if he calls, I will know not to answer? I could fight off the temptation if he ever called. At least I wouldn't get caught off guard.

Wait.

I had a better idea. I thought of a way to make sure I would not want to answer the phone if he called. I wouldn't want to answer because I would change his name into something that would remind me of why I have no interest in ever talking to him again. A genius moment, for sure. Every time I think about it, I grin like a fat kid at Baskin Robbins. I'll delete it entirely one day, but for now, I will enjoy the daydream of seeing his new name come up on my phone.

Tiny Penis.

New Year's Peeve

Greetings from Virginia! I will fill you in on my new life here later, with details about The Most Frustrating and Neverending Move Ever in the History of Relocations, The Magical Weight Loss Phenomenon and The Vague Job with Unavailable Boss (Through No Fault of Her Own). All you need to know at this moment is that

A) I love Richmond already.
B) My love life has already gone to shit, if you can believe it. Luckily, this has not impacted A (see above). Yet.

You may have noticed that it is almost 9pm on New Year's Eve. And I am blogging. In my jammies. Alone. What, did you think things would be different, now that I am out of horrible Savannah? That just because I am closer to my family and finally back where I feel at home that my romantic endeavors would be any different than they always have been? Or perhaps it's because last year's NYE was absolutely amazingly fun and awesome? Oh, my little naive readers. You know I can't let this year end without yet another crash-and-burn tale from my dating life, or lack thereof. Although I got down to the wire, I did manage to squeeze one final story into 2011 for you.

2011 started with a great dating story and it will end with another. Ok, I guess last year's NYE wasn't totally amazing and fun by the time it was over. But it most certainly started off that way, and it was a helluva lot better than the way this one is shaping up. Let me explain.

Thanks to the intervention of several friends and/or relatives, I was talked into (read: dragged kicking and screaming) signing up for eHarmony (emphasis on "harm") late last summer. Since you pay for it 3 months' at a time, I had completely forgotten that it would automatically renew itself, so after 3 months of guys who didn't even sound good on paper, I got to -- surprise! -- get automatically charged for another 3 months' of depressing dating prospects! Well, by the time I realized that this had happened, I was in the midst of leaving Savannah to move to Richmond. And they don't do refunds. So I had another 3 months' worth of prepaid virtual dating to burn through. Ever the Pollyanna/mental nimrod/glutton for punishment that I am when it comes to dating, I decided I would just update my eHarmony profile to list Richmond as my location and keep on trying. I am new in town. What else was I going to do with my free time?

Well, I was very pleasantly surprised, let me tell you. Not only were the men better looking in Richmond, but they were better educated, too, with more interesting jobs. Gone were the Savannah hipster bartenders who looked like they don't bathe and the desperate-for-any-female military men. (I do support our men in uniform, heck, my brother is a vet for pete's sake, but what is with their desperation to get girlfriends? It is seriously freaky. I wish they would work on that, collectively.) The guys in Richmond seem...pretty great, actually! Woo hoo!

There were a few that seemed pretty good, but one stood out above the rest. MM was just the right age, looked like he knew how to have a good time and was pretty good looking. I had looked at his profile about 3 times before I realized that in this one photo, there was a kid. He looked so good in the photo, I literally didn't even see the kid, who turns out to be one of his daughters. Yes, he has 2 daughters and an ex-wife. That's a decent amount of baggage, but I like kids and I am trying to be more open minded about stuff like that. I haven't been dating much lately (read: at all...for 2 years....). I just wanted someone who seemed like fun. So we started emailing, which progressed to texting.

He was great! He was flirtatious, funny and seemed interested in me. He asked me out and we booked a date. We were going to meet for dinner in The Fan, which is the old home/cool boutiques/best restaurants area of Richmond. I was pretty stoked. It was my first date in *ahem* over 2 years (except for the blind date where I was a cougar and we didn't really hit it off anyway, so I am not even going to link to that post). I had an outfit picked out and was kind of excited to do some in-person flirting with MM.

That is, until he canceled on me the day before. Something about work being really crazy and he had to work late on the night of our date. Ok, well, everyone deserves the benefit of the doubt, I thought. It's the holidays, and everyone is a little crazy right now. So we rescheduled. And then I cried a little, because I was so disappointed. Normally, I have a rule against dating guys who make me cry, but since this was a work thing, it wasn't his fault. So we ended up just texting for another week. (I began to get annoyed at the texting after a while...why not just call me? So much easier and less sketchy.) Things got very flirtatious, though. It's so easy to flirt via text...where was I?

Our first date went well...even though he was a little bit late. (Again, I try to give people the benefit of the doubt on first dates. They can be nerve-wracking. So I let it slide. He had texted me to say he was running a little late, so that helped.) The food was good and we had good conversation, but what was odd was the complete and total lack of flirting going on. And he was sitting a little farther away from me than I would have preferred. This, from the guy who, earlier in the week, was asking me some very PG-13 questions via my phone (some I would not even answer because they were a little too personal). This same guy, who had been talking up a big storm about kissing me, was acting like we were on a totally blind date. It was very odd.

He also did most of the talking, which is one of my first date pet peeves. I like a healthy split of getting to know each other, not the entire sordid story of why your marriage broke up. All I asked was how long he had been divorced. I didn't really need to know that she cheated and lied and all that other stuff. It's not really any of my business and made me a little uncomfortable.

I switched topics and asked him about his family. He describes his mother as "manipulative and controlling" and I could see a little red flag pop up. Now, anyone who knows me at all knows that my mother drives me nuts and I believe The Czarina to be a major control freak, but I would never describe her as manipulative, and I certainly wouldn't tell any of that to someone I just met. This, combined with his description of his ex-wife and a couple of bad dates he'd been on recently caused me to make a joke about how he'd bad mouth me later, too. He assured me I was a very pleasant surprise and that I was as attractive in person as I was in my photos. That was a relief. I decided that I would keep my ears peeled for more misogynistic comments, but the little things he said weren't instant deal breakers. For all I knew, it could have been nerves.

I decided to focus on how good looking he was and how good he smelled. And how to get him to sit closer to me. I decided to take off my jacket, exposing a black sequined top that was cut just low enough to be date-worthy, but not slutty. I could feel his eyes right where I wanted them to be. And although he did angle his body towards me a little more and put his arm on the back of the booth, his rear remained firmly in place...too far away for any serious flirting to take place. Rats. I guess that's what I got for telling him the he's not allowed to kiss me on our first date. Oh the joys of trying to pretend to be good when I really don't want to be..........

Our date got better as the night wore on. Aside from the comments about his mom and ex and my unsuccessful attempt to get him to scoot closer, it went well. It went so well that he asked me for a 2nd date just before hugging me goodbye. I was stoked.

Then, all this week, he went back to the vicious flirting and regular texting. I told him I was tired of texting and just wanted to talk, so he called me. After the phone call, he texted me to say how much he likes hearing my voice on the phone. He even asked my favorite question in the whole world: "When can I see you again?". *sigh* I love that question. At this point, I am thinking we are definitely having a super hot makeout session on Date #2. Even if I have to wear a super slut-tastic shirt this time. I can't take it anymore.

Two hours before he's supposed to pick me up for our second date, he texts me.

Would you be pissed if I asked you if we could reschedule for next week?

"If you have to ask that question, you already know the answer, douchebag," I thought. I texted back: So you're canceling on me again?

I am so sorry, he replied.

At this point, I am about to punch a wall I am so pissed. I don't reply. When I get home from work, he texts me again: I am so sorry. If you don't ever want to talk to me again, I totally understand.

Now, I am not stupid. I know that if you really liked someone, you would never say that, out of fear they'd take you up on the idea. He wanted out, but didn't want to be the bad guy. This guy has really mastered texting. He uses it to say all sorts of things he doesn't have the balls to say in person. Despite texting me every day, despite all his little innuendos about sleeping with me, despite the compliments he gave me, despite asking me out a 2nd time...he wanted out. Why, I don't know. And I never will know. Because I replied with

Good. Because I don't.

The worst part was, he never replied to that text.

The Gorilla Chronicles

I know it is the holidays, and I should be posting nice, warm-fuzzy posts, full of holiday cheer and goodwill towards men.

But I hate one of my coworkers.

And I have to vent about him before I can get back to my warm fuzzy place. Luckily for you, dear readers, I am pretty much exhausted from talking about him, thinking about him, venting about him and stressing out about him. So I will give you the short version of what I will call The Gorilla Chronicles.

Last June, we hired this guy. He's the supervisor for another department at the library. This department works pretty closely with my department, so it's only natural for us to share an office (there are few private offices in my building). I prepared for his arrival by stocking up his desk with some office supplies, giving him a copy of a training manual I made for my department and emailing him stuff I thought he might be interested in knowing. I assumed that since he was new not only to our school, but also to Savannah, he would have TONS of questions to ask me. I mean, isn't that what people do when they are new at a job? They ask a bunch of questions. Since I answer questions for a living, this is fine with me. I am happy to help.

Only, he didn't ask questions. And when our boss and our colleagues tried to explain to him why we do certain things a certain way, they were all ignored. When S, the woman who was temporarily running his department before he arrived gave him advice, it was ignored.

So this guy was basically learning nothing about his new job. When he did ask questions, he never understood people's explanations, so the other person had to explain themselves over and over and over. It's extremely frustrating. It was like he wasn't even listening. So even when he does want to know something, it's an uphill battle to explain it to him. But usually he operates in this vicious cycle: he doesn't ask questions --> he doesn't know anything --> this doesn't stop him from barking orders at people to do things that make no sense --> he is totally opposed from receiving input from others. Sounds fun, huh? Yeah, the last 6 months at work have sucked.

To boot, he snubbed his nose at us whenever we invited him out to baseball games (most of us attend the local baseball games here in town about 3 x per summer), happy hours, lunches, etc. We realize that socializing with your coworkers is not a requirement of your job, but is it too much to ask that you at least say good morning to people? Or tell your staff that you're leaving for the evening? It's like he didn't want to talk to ANYONE. He literally does not talk to me. Do you know how awkward it is to sit 6 feet away from someone, 40 hours a week, and never acknowledge their existence?

For a while, we thought he was just kind of weird. Ok, so he's not social. Whatever. But then, he started to make all these changes in his department. His ideas stink on ice, to put it bluntly. They were confusing to his staff, not communicated well and seemed to be fixing things that weren't broken. Whenever his staff asked a question about it, because like I said, these ideas were not communicated clearly, he would tell them that they are not supposed to ask questions, but instead are supposed to just do what he says -- he's the supervisor. He is one of those macho guys who drinks protein shakes and works out for 2 hours every day. He props his feet up on his desk when he's on the phone, he wears tight t-shirts to work to show off his muscles and he drives a BMW. This attitude, combined with his persona, is why we call him The Gorilla.

I could write a post just about the super mean things he has done to one girl in his department, including threatening her, making sexist comments/implications, and telling her to follow rules that he breaks on a regular basis! And she's supposed to shut up and do what he says!

Well, I can tell you that this is NOT how we roll at our library. One of the things I like about my job is that it's super team-oriented and very collaborative. Everyone's input is valued and shared and discussed. He wants to operate like a dictator over his staff. This is so foreign, I cannot even tell you. I know you may be thinking that perhaps we were a little bossy towards him or something, or telling him what to do, but that was not it at all. We have been giving him heads up about things which affect his department, and described successful ways to deal with these situations, and he just ignores us. Everything we have done has been as a gesture of helping him. But he doesn't think anyone can tell him anything. He thinks he knows everything.

The worst part about it is, our boss, who could have gotten him all straightened out, quit while I was in Hong Kong. This leaves Big Boss to supervise him, and she is super busy and travels a lot. It's not her fault, but he is just not being supervised well right now. Meanwhile, his ideas are getting worse, he refuses to listen to anyone and has started to get into arguments with people, including me.

But I am not the only one. There are no fewer than 5 people that have complained about him to Big Boss. He will "forget" to attend meetings, avoid responsibility for things which fall under his authority, not uphold his end of bargains, do something directly opposite of what Big Boss tells him, show up an hour late, take 2 hour lunch breaks, etc. Every once in a while, he will ask a question, and it's something he should have learned MONTHS ago. Or he'll ask a question, and it's totally lame. Basically, he sucks. He's incompetent. And he's not even nice to people!

One day, I was working at my desk when he blurted out to another coworker an idea that was so ridiculously stupid, I turned around and said, "Dude, I hear you. That is a problem, but doing what you're thinking of doing is probably a bad idea, and I can tell you why." So I tried to explain to him why it was such a bad idea, and since he's either stupid or refuses to listen, it became a very frustrating conversation on my end -- he just wasn't getting what I was saying, and I had to keep repeating myself. Apparently, at some point in the conversation, although I do not remember saying it, I called him "stupid" or an "idiot". I do not remember saying this at all, although I will admit to thinking it a lot!!! (I am not excusing my behavior -- I was unprofessional and shouldn't have said whatever I said.)

The next thing I know, I have to have a meeting with HR and Big Boss about all of this. I told them that I may have said it, because I was very frustrated at the time, but I do not remember saying the exact phrase he was claiming. In fact, I think what I may have said is that the IDEA was stupid. (Yes, I realize that neither comment is professional or appropriate, but they mean different things!) I was kind of pissed that rather than talking to me about all of this, he went to HR, and was now making a big deal out of nothing. I realized during this meeting that The Gorilla was not playing, and I needed to protect myself. So I sang like a canary and told them all stuff he had done. My Big Boss, who was there, was shocked and had no idea all of this stuff had been going on. She also talked to the girl on his staff I mentioned a minute ago -- she sang like a canary, too. But Big Boss was still thinking it may just be a personality conflict and that he just needed more training. We were worried that she wasn't taking us seriously, and that she was on his side.

Then, all hell broke loose on the last day of classes before Thanksgiving. As this is the day that all the students are done with classes and exams, we get a T-O-N of books returned at the desk. We literally have thousands returned in the matter of one day. So we have always used this great organization system to manage it all so we don't end up with giant piles of books on the floor. This system works great, and so ahead of time, my coworker S told him all about it. She said, "Hey, this is the system I came up with, and it works really great. You may want to put it in place before the last day of classes, or you can do your own thing, too, if you want." (By this point in time, she had already been told, like I had, to mind her own business and keep her nose out of his department, so she just wanted to offer it as an option to him. Besides, Big Boss had told her to mentor him until the end of the year, so she was doing as she was instructed.)

True to form, he ignored her. Then, he was not even at work on this super busy day (it is the busiest day of the whole year for his department!). So all hell is breaking loose while he is gone, because he told his staff to NOT use the system that worked. They were supposed to use this other system that he created (which was not really anything at all). S happens to walk by the desk and sees his staff (who are also her friends, btw) struggling to keep up with all the books. She asks them what the plan is for dealing w/all of this, and no one says anything. One person asked if they could set up the usual system. S asked everyone, "Do you want to use the regular system?" and everyone nodded. So they did it, and everything began to get organized and the staff wasn't so stressed out. Yay!

The next day, when The Gorilla came into work, and saw that the old system was set up, he took it all down, ripping the organization signs down, and demanded answers from his staff as to who had set up the old system. Once he found out, he emailed S a very nasty email, claiming she was undermining his authority and lowering the morale of his staff. This email made S cry, it was so mean spirited. S did not reply to it, because honestly, it didn't deserve a response. It was totally out of line, unprofessional and disrespectful. S just told Big Boss that she wanted to talk to her about it, and forwarded the email to Big Boss.

Big Boss told her that The Gorilla had already forwarded a copy to her. Yes, you read that correctly, The Gorilla sent a copy of his nasty email to Big Boss voluntarily. That is how much he thinks he is right! He can't even recognize when he's being a jerk! He thought that email was totally appropriate!

This event, combined with stuff that he has done to Big Boss (oh yes, this guy has some serious cojones!!!), has definitely turned the tables on him. S and I had to meet again with HR about our "conflicts" because basically, The Gorilla wanted us to apologize to him. He wanted accountability. Whatever. I apologized for what I said, as I should have. I don't have a problem with that. But even though the HR lady was trying to explain to him how inappropriate his email was, he still didn't get it. During this meeting with HR, I found out that The Gorilla has been talking to HR for WEEKS saying who knows what about all of us. I know that some of the stuff he's said is flat-out not true, because we had to correct the HR lady at the meeting. I think that he's got a lawyer and is being coached on how to sue for hostile work environment or something. His last job was at a law firm, so we are thinking he has a buddy who is coaching him. This guy is super dangerous. That's why even though he has not acknowledged my existence, I am ok with that, because I don't want to give him any more ammo!

Anyway, this guy is ridiculous, and I really hope his arguments don't hold up, because I am so tired of dealing with him. We all are. Luckily, Big Boss totally sees our side (now that she has been a victim, too!) now and I am pretty sure she is ready to give him the old heave ho. His arguments really don't carry much weight. I guess we will have to see how it turns out.

Whew! Sorry, I tried to make it short. I'm going home to Virginia tomorrow. If I don't get a chance to blog while I'm there, I hope everyone reading this has a VERY Merry Christmas!!!!

Karma Has Some Serious Explaining to Do

I think CN and I are paying for all of our past evil deeds here in Savannah. I'm beginning to wonder if this town is cursed. We had the weekend from hell.

Friday night, his Jeep was broken into. It sucked, but the good thing was that the perpetrator just unzipped his soft top, rather than cutting it, which would have been an expensive repair. And all they got were about 20 CDs. So as far as car break-ins go, it was as good as it gets. But you still get upset and feel violated. He was pretty pissed.

We didn't discover the break in until Saturday morning, as we were on our way to Columbia to move his stuff out of his house and bring it down to Savannah. Filing the police report delayed us by at least an hour. Yeah, we know it's kind of silly to file a police report over some stolen CDs, but CN's going to call his insurance company to see if he can get reimbursed. And who knows, maybe if a pattern pops up, having our report on file will help the police nab this guy.

We didn't start packing up the U-Haul until around noon. I was thinking it would take us maybe 4 hours to pack it up. But I didn't realize I was moving with the Dawdle Brothers, also known as my boyfriend and his buddy. They spent 2 and a half hours taking CN's washer and dryer over to his buddy's house. (It was his gift from us for helping us move.) We didn't finish packing until 9pm that night. For Pete's freaking sake.

Then on Sunday, I went to work (yes, I now work the occasional Sunday.) While I was at work, CN's mom called to tell him that she had looked out the back window of her house to see her dogs attacking her cat, so she ran out of the house to save her cat. On the way out the door, she had a bad fall and had skinned her knees, hurt her back, and cut open the back of her head. She probably should have gone to the emergency room to get checked out, but she couldn't because her husband is on his death bed. Yeah. CN's dad is not eating or speaking at this point, which is not a good sign. Not at all.

"What are you and Virginia doing this coming weekend?" she asked him.

CN told her that we are going to my cousin's wedding in Chicago.

She told him that is probably not a good idea and that she doesn't think he should go out of town right now, because of the state his dad's in.

So when I got home, CN told me that he's not going to the wedding, but I can go without him if I want. But I can't have fun without him! One of the reasons I was so excited to go was so that he can meet some of my extended family. And I can't enjoy myself, knowing that he's all bummed out about his dad. He still wants me to go, and The Czarina wants me to go (I am one of the few people from our branch of the family going to the wedding, so I need to represent, yo.), but I think I will feel guilty if I do. Besides, I hate driving in Atlanta and that's where I'm flying out.

So I really didn't know what to do yesterday. I'm looking at non-refundable tickets, a sick (practically) father-in-law, a bummed boyfriend and a favorite aunt who was REALLY looking forward to seeing me and meeting CN. Argh. I hate making choices like this. And the timing? Couldn't be worse. Not that there's a great time for his dad to get really sick.

I got home from work yesterday to find CN watching tv. And a kitchen full of clean dishes. Which made my day, because I HATE washing dishes by hand. He's the best, what can I say?

"How did you have time to wash the dishes?" I asked."Didn't you have to work today?"

"Nope. I called my boss and told her about my dad. She told me to go ahead and take the whole week off. I'm going to go see my family tomorrow, and I'll be there the rest of the week. Hopefully by Friday, I will know what's going on and how he's doing, and I might still be able to go to the wedding with you," he explained.

YAY! Er, maybe. I guess we will have to see. Something good has to happen, right? Aren't bad things only supposed to happen in 3s?

Red & Green

Today, they are not only Christmas colors, but also relevant to my life.

Red -- the color of my left eye. No, I do not have pinkeye. I think I have burst some blood vessels, because I have no change in vision, pain, itching, swelling or eye crusties. And it's not getting worse or spreading. Just one half of one eye, red. Just hanging out. Every time I look in the mirror, it says to me, "Hi! Yup. Still here. Making you look like you're sick, tired, high or otherwise not a good person to stand next to! Enjoy wearing your glasses!" I'm pretty sure it's just some irritated/burst blood vessels. Which, according to my casual internet research, can happen from something as simple as a sneeze, violent coughing or vomiting. It probably happened on Tuesday night, after I barfed on the way home from the gym.

Math moment:

Lazy attitude towards exercise
random, intense trainer workout at gym
+ genetic predisposition for sensitive stomach
---------------------------------------
barfing in a parking lot.

Luckily, I picked a vacant office building parking lot, so no one had to stumble upon my barf upon arriving at work the next morning. WHEW.

Anyway, WebMD says that it should get better on its own, gradually, over the next 2 weeks. If not, it's time to see a doctor. I'm not wearing my contacts as a precaution. I'm now wearing my glasses until further notice. Which I hate doing. Oh well.

Trivia fact for you: Despite my fairly frequent and unpredictable barfing spells, CN has yet to witness me barf. He didn't know that I barfed throughout our first date until weeks later when I told him. Yeah, I'm a pro. Don't hate.

Green -- As in, the color of money. Luckily, it's not my money I am referring to.

CN has a company car, which is great. He doesn't have to pay a dime out of pocket for anything car-related, including gas. Don't you just hate him? I know, me too. Because it's not his car, he has to take it to company-approved mechanics, because they have special agreements worked out with them. One of these companies is Jiffy Lube. Or, as I like to call it, Stiffy Rube. Because they are full of idiots who rip you off. Or idiots who make you take it up the ass. I will let you choose your own definition, depending on your level of pervertedness.

Hopefully, I am not offending any of you by saying this, but in my experience, Jiffy Lube hires only the most supreme morons of America. Their last straw with me was when I got an oil change, and they forgot to put the cap back on. During my drive from NC to Virginia, I started noticing something leaking from the engine up to my windshield. When my wipers failed to remove it, I pulled over to find a coating of motor oil all over my car. It was also all over my engine, and it was beginning to burn, which if you have never smelled, is not exactly anything close to Chanel No. 5. I still had about 3 hours of travel time left, and had to just deal with it until I got to The Czarina's and pay $100 to have my engine power washed. Grrrrr...

Anyway, despite my Tales of Horror and Warning Concerning Jiffy Lube, CN always gets his oil changed there -- it's one of the company approved places. It's right by our house and one of his favorite dive bars. He usually goes to the bar for a beer and pizza or to watch a game while he waits. This is what he did on Friday afternoon.

While he was enjoying his beer and pizza, the friggin idiots over at Jiffy Lube were getting a lesson in car lifts: DO NOT lift a car by anything other than pre-approved, sturdy areas of the under carriage. This is because the other areas are not meant to bear the weight of a vehicle, you frigging numb nuts who apparently flunked out of mechanic school.

When CN picked up his car, they inform him that they "had some difficulty" in removing the tires (I think he got a tire rotation, too) and didn't rotate them because of that. CN was like, "Ok, whatever," and proceeded to get into the car to get it back home. One the way home, he realizes that something is very wrong. Despite normal steering activity and decision-making skills on the part of the driver, the car wants to turn sideways, especially when the brake is applied. You can imagine how fun this is when you approach a stoplight, or say, oncoming traffic. It gives bumper cars a whole new meaning. At worst, you could die in a T-Bone collision. At best, you look like you're doing some pretty cool 180s. In traffic.

So, to sum up, Jiffy Lube is full of dipshits who are taking *no* responsibility for this, CN's car is now at a better mechanic, getting worked on. But it's so jacked up that he may actually end up getting a new company car. THAT is how much they jacked up his car. (His car is only a year old.)

While it's no skin off his nose, because he doesn't have to pay for it, CN is finally hating JackAss Lube as much as I am. File this under: "I Told You So".

Ok, I will share The Czarina's latest exploit with you in the next post. Promise. It's time to go home, and that is a post which will take some careful wording.

The Stalker

I have mentioned my stalker before. See here and here.

If you look at the dates on those posts, you will see that he's been bothering me since at least March 2007. Thankfully, it has not been continuous because he doesn't attend school every semester. I had kind of forgotten about him, because he wasn't here for the spring semester or the summer. But now, he's back. Every Monday and Wednesday, when he's got classes, he camps out in the library pretty much all day long. (We have learned that his mom drops him off in the mornings and then picks him up when she gets off of work. So he doesn't have a car, which is GOOD.) When he's here, I have to strategically avoid him and hope that he won't follow me to my car. This is not a good working environment!!!

He came up to the desk the other night and asked if he could talk to me. (Unfortunately, I stupidly told him my first name a long time ago, before I knew he would give me the creeps.) My coworker informed him that I had left for the day. But he creeped her out so much that she emailed me about it. He gives everyone the creeps around here, but for some unknown reason, he has become fixated on me, especially. In addition to dealing with his creepiness (staring, lurking, hanging out for no apparent reason, smacking his lips incessantly), I have also had to endure personal questions about my boyfriend and love life. It's pretty evident that this guy has some screws loose, so in a way, I have some sympathy for him. Which is why I have, in the past, sugar-coated my responses to his nosy and inappropriate questions.

As you can probably guess, this only encouraged him. Despite my heavy hints to leave me alone, he still wants to talk to me. It culminated with him finding my myspace page last April and emailing me a bizarre email. Since he was not here at school at the time, I didn't worry about it too much. But I kept the email he sent me, just in case. (When he is not at school, I do not have to really worry about him, as he does not have a car and lives on the other side of town. So the good thing is, he cannot follow me home or anything like that.)

Fast forward to last week, when he asked my coworker if he could talk to me. After hearing that he's now bothering everyone, and not just me, I have decided that I have had enough. In addition to his creepiness, he has been confrontational with some of my coworkers in the past. He's got a mouth and isn't afraid to get mouthy whenever one of us asks him to be quiet or obey the library rules. My coworker and I were talking about his attitude and ultra-creepiness the next day when she reminded me that some criminal records are considered public information here in SC, and were therefore, online. So we looked him up.

Here's what we found: disorderly conduct, domestic violence (multiple offenses against his own mother), resisting arrest, driving on a suspended license and assaulting an officer. And he's spent some time in jail. His rap sheet goes back to 1998, when he was still in high school.

After reading that, I was officially freaked out. If it had been one minor offense, I would not have really worried about it. But to see multiple offenses, some of which are violent, really worried me. He has the ability to turn violent. Against anyone. This guy has a temper, and I know that stalkers do not deal well with rejection. Grrrrrrrrrreat.

I knew I had to do something. But what??? Going to the police and getting a restraining order would only make me a target for revenge. He would know I am the one who filed it. And he could come into the library and totally wig out and/or shoot me or something. Or ramp up his efforts to talk to me. (Stalkers often see restraining orders as challenges to overcome. Yes, I did some research. I'm a librarian -- what did you expect?)

CN wanted to come to campus and follow him into the men's room with a crowbar. I told him that would not be necessary. But I appreciated the thought. He offered a less-violent, more legal idea -- how about he just come to campus and talk to the stalker? I turned down this idea. The last thing I need is for CN to be a target, too.

I decided to go to the office here on campus that deals with problem students. That way, it would be the school that is making the complaint, and my name would not be involved. I was pretty sure that he'd been causing problems around campus, so I was thinking maybe my statement would be the straw that could break the camel's back. If enough people complained, they'd have to do something, right???

I met with one of the student services peeps and told him everything. I even brought a print-out of the strange email he had sent me. When I informed him of my stalker's rap sheet, he looked at me in amazement. "How did you know about all that?" he asked. I told him it was public information. He made some scribbles in his notes, I assume listing all his criminal offenses. He said his office is very familiar with this student and they are "keeping an eye on him", whatever that means. He told me that if all he's doing is being creepy, they can't really do anything. He had sympathy for me, but he's right -- it's not a crime to be a wierdo. I knew the student services office had their hands tied until I could prove my stalker refused to leave me alone or did something violent. Unfortunately, this is the world we live in. And I understand that. But I at least wanted it on record that I had made a complaint.

But he did tell me that this student does have some mental problems, and that as long as I am firm but respectful, I should have some success in getting him to leave me alone. The student services guy said that other people on campus have had success with this strategy. He told me to always keep my phone with me, no matter where I am on campus. He also told me to never walk to my car alone. He also advised me to write down every encounter I have with him, including the date and time and place and what was said, so that we can start keeping track of everything. Yes, I realize now that I should have been doing this all along, but I stupidly didn't take this guy seriously. Luckily, I have mentioned him in this blog, which will help me at least report how long it's been going on.

According to their records, he's never been violent on campus, just mouthy. "There's a first time for everything," I thought. So I informed him that the only reason I was talking to his office instead of the cops was because I didn't want my name on a restraining order. I didn't want to make myself a target. I also said that if he didn't have a violent criminal history, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. I had really wanted to go straight to police, to be honest.

Anyway, I am waiting to hear back from his office about what we can do. I told him I would like it if he was banned from the library entirely, if possible. And without my name specifically involved. Ideally, he would be kicked out of school! Until then, I have to just watch my back, be really firm with him and make myself more unavailable online. I am going to remove even more personally identifiying information on my myspace and facebook accounts. It can't hurt.

What makes me angry is that the whole office didnt' even know about his criminal record!!! You would think that after the Virginia Tech shootings, we would not have to deal with crap like this anymore! I mean, I know the school needs to make money via tuition, and I believe in privacy laws and giving people 2nd chances to turn their lives around, but at what cost? I'm not getting the impression this guy is interested in behaving himself or trying to overcome his bad past decisions. I think he's a potentially violent stalker who could flip at any moment and should not be allowed on campus. And I'm a little angry at how vulnerable my place of employment is leaving me. Who knows what other wack jobs are roaming around out here?! If I'm at risk, so are all of my coworkers. I hate that they basically wont' do anything until it's too late. That is a crappy policy. Have we learned nothing after Virginia Tech????

Monday, Monday

Well, it's certainly Monday. Let's see. Where should I begin? I think I will ease into it with something funny.

I have told you how my little sister, Smurf, is a horrible driver. Well, despite a year's worth of practice, involving a learner's permit, driver's ed and much practicing with family members, she is no better today than she was the first time she got behind the wheel. Somehow, this did not stop the Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles from issuing her a driver's license last month. Do not ask me how on earth she passed the driving test, but she did. So she got her license in mid-July. That was only a few weeks ago. She now has THREE tickets. She got them ALL on the same day: speeding, running a stop sign and driving on the wrong side of the road. "It was only for a second," she told me. "And there was no one else on the road." I told her that apparently, there was someone else on the road. She says she's learned her lesson, but I doubt that will be enough to convince the judge that he should not revoke her driver's license, which is probably what he will do. My poor mother and her insurance rates....yeesh.

This weekend, CN's dad had to go back to the hospital again. "Do you want to go with me to visit him?" CN asked me Saturday morning. I asked CN why he was in the hospital. CN was pretty vague. So I declined because...
1. The request was phrased in a way that made it seem optional.
2. It was my weekend off.
3. The hospital was an hour away.
4. I was having a dinner party that night for my girlfriends, and needed to prepare.
5. When my dad was sick, he was in the hospital a dozen times before things got serious.

By now, you have probably realized that "No" was the wrong answer. Unfortunately, I am not nearly as bright as my readers. Because I should have realized that CN isn't the kind of person who would say, "Look, I am really worried, and I really want you to come with me." Because if he had said that, then yes, I would have dropped everything and gone with him. But I am dense, and he downplays things, which leads to misunderstandings and people being upset. This is not the first time he has downplayed something important, and I was too stupid to figure it out.

By Sunday morning, he was pretty angry with me, and I could tell something was wrong. He told me I had really let him down and that he was really worried about his dad. I instantly felt like a candidate for Worst Girlfriend Ever, apologized and explained my reasoning to him. He agreed that he should have explained things better, and I canceled all my Sunday plans and went down with him to the hospital yesterday.

Not long after we got to the hospital, CN's mom took us to lunch, where she explained that CN's dad had been acting funny lately, which was part of the reason she had put him back in the hospital. She just had a hunch something wasn't right. So the doctor gave CN's dad a MRI (or was it a CT scan?) and we were waiting to hear the results. The doctor called when we got back from lunch. And the news was not good. CN's dad has prostate cancer that has metasticized all over his body. And the MRI showed that he now has lesions in his brain and they are bleeding. So he's being put back on radiation again today. It's not looking so hot. Because the doctors have actually had him on a break from the chemo/radiation treatments because his body can't really handle too much more. So I don't have a good feeling about all of this.

Obviously, I won't be skipping any more hospital visits, either. I am thinking I should maybe quit my Dildo's job, so I will have more free time to go with him to the hospital.

Then, at 2am last night, I was awakened by my roommate, E, again. She and her boyf broke up (again) and so instead of being at his house all the time, she's now at my house all the time. Which would be fine, except for the fact that she has insomnia, so she gets up all through the night, which wakes me up. She has woken me up just about every night for the last 2 weeks. It's getting old.

Anyway, at 2am last night, I awoke to the sound of her giggling. I got up to shut the door to my room, only to realize that there was a 2nd voice -- a man's voice -- giggling with her. In the shower.

"Great," I thought.

I was already upset about CN's dad and I had to get up early this morning for work. So I had a difficult time falling back asleep. I tossed and turned for at least an hour, furious at her inconsideration. When I got up this morning, I noticed that this random guy's car was still outside. This kind of annoyed me. I mean, if you want to hook up with random guys, fine. But do it on the weekend and make sure he's gone by the morning, you know?

I started to get ready for work, and as I'm getting ready, I hear my roommate quietly slip out and leave. That's unusual for her -- she usually asks me if her outfit looks okay every morning. And I didn't hear a man's footsteps following her. Hmmm.

I finished getting ready, trying to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. But when I went to leave, I saw that the random guy's car was still parked outside, and my roommate was gone!

I. Was. Furious.

I threw open the door to her room and woke up Mr. Random.

"You have to leave. Now." I said, fuming.

"Ok," he replied, groggily.

I just stood there, waiting, with my hand on my hip, as he shuffled around, trying to get dressed.

"Let's go! I'm late for work! I'm leaving and you can't be here!" I yelled.

"It's not what it looks like. E and I have known each other for years," he said, trying to explain.

"Yesss," I hissed. "But I don't know who the fuck you are, and this is MY house, so you have to get the fuck out of my house. NOW."

Apparently, I communicated my rage very clearly, because he left the house in nothing but his boxer shorts! He carried the rest of his stuff and didn't even put his shoes on fully! LOL

"Did you see his wiener?" CN asked me later.

"No. And he's lucky, because I would have ripped it off!!!" I replied.

E and I are going to have a loooooong chat this afternoon, when I get home from work.

Wow. I was a total bitch this weekend, huh?

Groundhog Day

**WARNING** There is an obscene amount of whining and bitching in this post. Skip if you don't feel like listening today. Don't worry. I won't have time to notice a lack of comments.

Groundhog Day.

Have you seen the Bill Murray movie? I haven't, but based on what I've heard, I probably should. Apparently, it's about a man who has to re-live the same day over and over.

Oh, how I can relate.

Ironically, I don't have time to watch it. I'm too busy living my own Groundhog Day.

CN told me about an old "In Living Color" skit about the Hedleys, a family of Jamaicans, caught in a one-upmanship of employment. But the end of the skit, their claims are pretty outrageous:

I can relate to that skit, too: "I don't have time. I have to go to work." Sometimes, I feel like I work 12 jobs.

My full-time job is on the same schedule every week. My part time job is on the same schedule every week. With a few small gaps, these two schedules mesh perfectly together all week long. My house isn't so much of a home as it is an extremely dirty hotel room to me. I hurry between my bed, my main job and my part time job, only to repeat it again and again and again. Day in and day out, with each job session connected to the next, like a circled chain. I feel like I'm stuck in the pilot episode of an extremely popular dramadey: "Broadcast tonight with no commercial interruptions."

You have no idea what I would give for a goddamn commercial interruption. Time to sleep, time to clean, time to sit on my couch and BREATHE. Time to do laundry, time to cook a real meal, time to actually SEE my friends, instead of just texting them sporadically. Time to play with my dog and wander around Target.

My schedule is so strict, that if I don't get an errand done early Thursday morning, it doesn't get done. Period. I have to plan when to fill up my gas tank. I forget to go to the bathroom, only to realize I needed to pee 3 hours ago. Or I am baffled as to why I'm suddenly so thirsty, only to realize that it's 3pm, and the last thing I drank was the 6am coffee that morning. I am so concerned with the "OMG! I'm late! Where am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to be doing?" that I'm forgetting to do little things, like water my yard, return phone calls or make deposits at the bank. I find myself really looking at my priorities: unload the dishwasher or shave my legs? Iron the clean shirt, or dig through the dirty clothes to find something that will pass? Sleep or eat?

And lately, with my brain's dial set to the "Go! Do! Now!" setting, I'm having a hard time turning my body off at the end of the day, no matter how exhausted I am. That means that now, I am starting to get insomnia.

Hoo fucking ray.

Btw, this is on top of the constant headaches and gastro-intestinal issues I've already developed, thanks to my super fun new schedule.

And if you are someone who is good friends with/dating/married to someone who works two jobs, you would be The Most Awesome Person in the World if you would offer to run errands for that person. Or vaccuum their living room. Or cook them a meal. Or throw their clothes in the dryer. Instead of saying things like, "Yeah, I'm going on vacation to your most favoritest place in the world! Wish you could go with me! But you have to work, right?" or "My day? Oh, I just sorta watched tv today. Went to the gym. Took a nap. Not much." Saying these things might get your head ripped off, instantly and without apology.

So much for the Public Service Announcement portion of this blog post...and yes, CN did say that 2nd one to me the other day. But I was too exhausted to do anything more than whimper. Thinking about it pisses me off. A lot. But how can you ask your boyfriend to vacuum your living room for you, when getting the 2nd job was your idea in the first place? *sigh*

You can imagine how much fun I am to be around. Let me tell you, I am a *peach*. If I had my wish right now, I would scream at a stranger, and then have a good cry and a nap. It's sort of what I imagine being pregnant is like. Exhaustion, frustration and hopelessness. It's not going to end for months. And months. What have I gotten myself into? Why did I think this was a good idea? Is it too late to go back to the good ol' days?

Those of you who are mothers, work two jobs or have otherwise absurd numbers of juggled balls in the air, I salute you. Seriously, how the fuck do you do this without either losing your mind or turning into a supreme mega bitch?

I know what you are asking. "VB, why not just take a sick day? Call in, take a day off, you will feel better!" To which I reply:

1. I need much MUCH more than a day off. I need like a week off. Complete with clean sheets, a massage and fruity drinks. A pile of books, a big TV and a totally blank calendar. One day off wouldn't be a drop in the bucket. I had last Sunday off. It wasn't enough. It was nice to cook, don't get me wrong. But it wasn't enough. I need a Decompression Period.
2. I can't take a day off from my library job. I am working on Super Massive Huge Project, remember? And it's due on August 1st. I am about 85-90% done. So until it is done, no can do. To be perfectly honest, I have no business typing this blog post right now. I don't technically have time. But I have to do it, or I might kill a kitten or something.
3. I can't call in sick to Dildo's. First of all, it would only give me 3 hours off, and 3 evening hours isn't enough, either. Besides, they tend to fire people who call in. Not that it matters. I might quit today anyway.

Too bad my poor Dildo's manager has no idea what's coming for her at 6pm tonight. It is I, in all of my exhausted rage, and I have every intention of getting in her face and being a total bitch. Without warning. This is why:

1. Every employee gets one full weekend and one additional Sunday off per month. To date, I have had one weekend and two Sunday off. Over a 3 month period. Also, no Dildo's employee is supposed to close every Saturday. I have. So I think I've been getting screwed. This is not making me happy. Especially since that ONE weekend off was spent at my mother's house. So think about aaaaaaaall the stuff you have done in the last 11 weekends. I have not had that time at all. It was spent standing on my feet.

2. I have brought up the fact that I am not a machine to my manager, who replies with either, "Sorry, that's Dildo's policy." or "I didn't give you that day off? I'm sorry! I will fix it!" -- Both replies piss me off. Because they both communicate the same message: "I don't care!" It's bad enough hearing this message from any manager. But when it comes from the mouth of a 23 year old bimbo who spends most of her time at work doing nothing except flirting with another manager, you pretty much want to rip her face off.

This past weekend, I became fed up. After asking my worthless Dildo's manager for a weekend off this month THREE times, she "forgot" to change my schedule before she called in sick for a three day weekend so she could hang out with her boyfriend. So I had to work all weekend, AGAIN. If you are looking at a calendar right now, you will see that there are 4 weekends in July. Three of which have already passed without her fixing my schedule.

That means, there's only one weekend left. It's inventory weekend. No one is supposed to have that weekend off. So I know she's going to tell me I can't have this coming weekend off, either. And that's when I will punch her in the face. My goal is to break her nose in the process. I think that under the circumstances, the judge will be merciful.

"Give me Friday, Saturday and Sunday off, or I quit. Now." -- is what I will say. I know it doesn't sound like much of a threat, but that's because you don't know she's had some major turnover in her department lately. (My guess is because she never gives anyone any fucking days off.) So she is MEGA short handed at the moment.

And if she doesn't go for it? Fine by me. I was planning on quitting soon, anyway. Because I just cannot take this any more. At this point, maybe being in debt is worth a little sanity. Who knew how important weekends are to your psyche?? I mean, yeah, I'm making $150-200 a week. But at what price? I feel like shit. My house smells. I haven't exercised in three months. I am exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally.

Fuck. I'm late. I gotta go. I was supposed to go to lunch 45 minutes ago. Sorry about all the bitching and whining. I will try and be funner tomorrow. :\

The Twerp

So far, my part-time job at Dildo's is pretty much what you'd expect from a retail job: lots of work on the weekends, ample quantities of boredom and a seemingly endless supply of annoying customers.

I could write a post about some of these incredibly frustrating customers, and I probably will at some point. But today, I want to talk about one of the managers. I call him The Twerp, which is a kind nickname, considering I would really like to call him His Royal Douchiness. The total suckage embodied in this guy is definitely at an imperial level, I can assure you.

Rumor has it that he came to Dildo's by way of Toys R Us, where he was also a department manager. Apparently, he was fired from Toys R Us because his wife abused the employee discount too much. This is a completely idiotic reason to get fired, in my opinion. Hey, moron, tell your wife to knock it off. Duh. So now he is the manager of the home store department at Dildo's. He runs the show upstairs, where they sell bedding, dishes, fine china and the like.

In other words, he is NOT my manager. I work in accessories (jewelry, handbags, scarves, etc.). As you can probably tell, he likes to think he's everyone's manager. You can guess how well this sits with me and my coworkers.

His wife is rumored to wear the pants in their relationship, which isn't surprising, considering how fucking stupid he is. And supposedly she keeps him on a short leash. Speaking of short, he's short. At least 3 inches shorter than me. So we have all the ingredients necessary:

1. Overbearing wife
2. Short stature
3. A lower management position

Mix together and you get: one helluva Napoleon complex. This guy is on a power trip from the minute he steps into the store until the minute he leaves for the day. Which would normally just cause you to feel pity for his pathetic existence, but in his case, he is so goddamn irritating, all you want to do is fantasize about smashing his skull into the pavement. Repeatedly. Until his brains spill out.

As evidence of my wholly encompassing, sheer hatred for this man, I present to you the following anecdotes as evidence to substantiate my claim that he is in fact due for a serious beat-down in the Dildo's parking lot.

1. One time, a customer was looking at a bedspread set (comforter, shams, etc.). She really liked it, and since her birthday was coming up, she was going to ask her parents to get it for her as a gift. In order to show them what it looked like, she took out her cell phone so that she could take some photos of it. Out of nowhere, The Twerp swoops in to inform the customer that he cannot allow her to take photographs of the merchandise for "liability reasons".

Like what? The comforter is involved in a bitter custody battle?? Come on! He just did this because he could.

More evidence that he's stupid: The customer works at the daycare where his kids go. She knew exactly who he was! But he was sitting up so high on his horse, he didn't recognize her. Which is typical -- he has a tendency to act like he cannot be bothered to take the time out of his ultra-busy and important lower management schedule to do things like look people in the eye or ask them how their day is going. He looks at other people as though they are objects, rather than human beings. He probably didn't even realize who she was.

Needless to say, the woman didn't buy squat from him or his department. And she made sure to tell another employee why. Which is how I know about it.

2. I was working with Courtney Love (yes, the girl is the spitting image of her) one evening. She and I were marking down some jewelry that was now on sale. In order to do this, each item needs to be scanned with a scan gun, which sends the information to the printer. Then the printer makes a sale sticker for each item. It's not difficult work, but it is time consuming. Most of the time is spent looking for the scan guns. It had taken us a good 30 minutes to find 2 scan guns.

So we had scanned about 200 items a piece, and we were ready to print out that set of stickers before moving on. Courtney left to go find our manager to tell her we were ready to start printing. As soon as she walked away, The Twerp walked by, said, "I need these," and then proceeded to just take the scan guns! No explanation, no discussion, no apologies. I watched in horror as he immediately turned off the scan guns. This means that all 200 records we had just done were GONE. Courtney and I had to start all over.

What was really frustrating about this was that if he had been just a TINY bit considerate, and just waited for us to print off the stickers, he could have had the scan guns in ten minutes. But of course, this would rob him of an opportunity to be a fucking asshole.

3. To warrant against employee theft, Dildo's technically requires all female employees to carry a clear purse (nevermind that this doesn't stop people from stealing, but that's another post for another time). During training, you are issued a clear purse by management. When I first started working at Dildo's again, I saw that this policy was still in place. But I also noticed that a lot of the female employees did not abide by this rule. It's a long story, but I never went to any of the training, so I never got a clear purse. Since no one ever gave me a clear purse, and it seemed this rule was not really enforced anyway, I didn't worry about it. And no one has said a word to me about it.

Until Sunday, when The Twerp was the manager for the day.

It was just after 6pm, and all the employees headed upstairs to customer service so that we could clock out. Now, if an employee purchases something while they are at work, it has to be kept at customer service until their shift is over. So a lot of people were picking up their purchases before they went home. We all filed back downstairs so that we could exit the building through the back door, just like we always do.

True to character, The Twerp was perched on a table, right next to the back door. He wanted to look inside everyone's Dildo's bags. He wanted to make sure none of us were stealing things and sticking them into Dildo's bags, because you know, we are all criminals. He inspected everyone's receipts and scrutinized their purchases before letting them out the door.

"What a fucking douchebag," I thought. In my opinion and experience, these sorts of policies do not stop employee theft. They only serve to irritate and offend your staff.

Since I hadn't purchased anything, I went around him towards the door. Just as I began to push on the back door, The Twerp stopped me. I should have known.

"Where's your clear purse?" he asked me, in a condescending tone one usually reserves for three-year-olds.

With the same tone of voice and facial expression as a defiant teenager, I replied, "No one ever gave me one."

"Well," he continued, using a tone of voice that was so sickeningly sweet and fake it made my stomach churn, "We will have to just get you one on your next shift!"

By the time he finished this sentence, he was talking to the back of my head. I was so instantly irritated and annoyed, I had to walk away from him right at that second, or else I would have flipped him the bird and told him to suck it. It was all I could do not to get right in his face and scream, "FUCK OFF!!!"

Because my beef here is not with the store's policy about clear purses. I understand the policy, and yes, it's probably a good idea. My beef is with the way he handled it. He has had numerous opportunities to learn my name, to treat me like a human being and to give me the basic respect any employee would want from a supervisor. But instead, he treats me like a subject of his royal power. He doesn't even know my name or what department I work in. He has taken every opportunity to insult me and treat me like a child. None of the other managers do this. At all. In fact, the other managers are all cool as hell. Which only bothers me more -- you'd think he would see how other managers behave and realize that he doesn't have to act like that.

So that's why I want to grab him by the ear, drag him out into the parking lot and bash his skull in while I scream at him, "It is NOT my problem that you are a nutless wonder and wholly incapable of standing up to your own wife! I am tired of you treating me and everyone else here like we are scum of the earth! So you can take your Napoleon complex somewhere else, and go fuck yourself, you power-tripping twerp!"

And then, I want to stop, stand up, and kick him really hard in the ribs, ending with, "Fucking douchebag!"

And then I would walk to my car and drive home. And never go back to Dildo's.

Wow. I guess I'm due for a nice, long run. Or a vacation. Or a massage. I think I have a lot of pent-up rage right now. I need to do something about it. Because this daydream is WAY more interesting to me than anything involving Julian McMahon and suntan lotion.

CN and the Doctors

On Saturday afternoon, I made strawberry shortcake for CN. He loved it.

But after he ate, he said he didn't feel well. After some jokes about how I am poisoning him and/or not washing the strawberries, he decided to lie down. I joined him, because I didn't feel well either (little did I know, I was hours away from getting a migraine, and this was my body trying to warn me). Besides, my calves were killing me, thanks to my trainer's brilliant idea that I do 150 calf raises AND 30 pound lifts (45 times) on the calf weight machine at the gym. I would spend the weekend trying to stretch out my calves, only to end up hobbling around on my tippy toes, like some geriatric Barbie doll.

After our nap, I felt a little better, but CN felt worse -- much worse. He had nausea, dizziness, bloating, lower back pain, chills and....let's just say that "things" weren't "moving along". So I spent the evening taking care of him. I felt helpless, because nothing I did seemed to make him feel much better. I tried to stay up late with him -- he was in so much pain that he couldn't sleep -- but I konked out around 11pm. "Wake me up if you need anything," I said drowsily. I suck at being a night owl.

This pattern went on through Saturday night, all day Sunday and all day Monday. CN would eat, feel terrible, lie down, writhe in pain all night, then wake up feeling slightly better in the morning. And he had to go to extreme measures to get things "going", if you know what I mean.

To make things even worse, I woke up with a mild migraine on Sunday, so I was feeling pretty miserable, too. Thanks to a lot of caffeine, I managed to keep most of the pain at bay. So we went to Wal-Mart. But that was it! By the time we left, both of us were feeling worse. We laid around in bed for the rest of the day, feeling like crap!

"Wow, we are one exciting couple," he said.

On Monday morning, CN went to go see Dr. Quack. I call him Dr. Quack because when CN went to him last year, complaining of um....something really gross that can be a sign of something REALLY bad, he told CN to "just cut back on alcohol".

WTF?? A young, otherwise healthy man comes to you, complaining of unexplained bleeding, and you tell him to cut back on beer??! ARG!

"I really wish you wouldn't go see him again," I said. "He's a quack!"

"Well, I already made the appointment," he replied.

CN comes back from the doctor and calls me at work. "Ok, Dr. Quack says I have a kidney infection."

"But you have been complaining about gastro-intestinal issues," I replied, confused.

"Yeah, I know. But he tested my pee, and it came back infected. So I'm on antibiotics."

I remembered his lower back pain -- it must have been in his kidneys. That kind of made sense. I asked him if Dr. Quack said anything else about his other symptoms.

"Yeah, I told him about the dizziness, and he said I probably have congested sinuses, so he told me to go buy some Mucinex," CN replied.

"Do you have congestion?" I asked.

"No," CN answered. "But I bought some anyway. Just took the first dose."

Who the hell is this doctor?? I thought to myself. And why is my normally intelligent boyfriend just accepting everything he is saying as gospel?? Doesn't he see that this doc is a moron?? Apparently, I am going to have to just do all this for CN, because he cannot be trusted to be in charge of his own health. This is so ridiculous.

That's when I recognized this particular Voice in My Head: It was the worst voice of all. It was the voice of The Czarina. I was turning into my mother before my very eyes. As terrifying as it was, I couldn't stop it. It was like a ventriloquist had taken over my body. I was the dummy on her lap, saying whatever she would say.

"Ok, well, I will come check on you when I get home today," I replied. [Czarina Voice Translation: When I come over today after work, I am going to make you go see a real doctor who gives logical answers, because I am pretty sure this doctor got his MD from the back of a cereal box.]

By the time I got home, he was feeling a lot better, but he hadn't really eaten anything that day, so we went to grab some BBQ. As soon as he finished eating, he felt terrible again. Seeing the pattern of eating --> illness, I tell him I really think he should go to see a gastroenterologist. I was worried he might have IBS, diverticulitis or an intestinal blockage -- or worse.

We go home, and he's now really uncomfortable and lying on the couch. "We might need to go to the emergency room," he said. I explained (ok, Czarina's Voice explained) to him that if we go to the emergency room, they will put him at the bottom of the list because he's not bleeding to death and he doesn't have any heart/lung issues. Then, once they get around to seeing us at 4am, they will probably tell us to pop some vicodin and call your regular doctor in the morning.

He agreed and decided to stay put for the time being. He took some tylenol for the pain. To make him feel better, I stayed at his house in case he needed anything.

He felt ok yesterday morning -- not great, but ok. I went to work and came to check on him at lunch. It was time to visit a REAL doctor. One who didn't prescribe medicines for non-existent symptoms.

"But I've already been to the doctor," he whined.

"My coworkers recommend Dr. B," I said, ignoring him. He was going to the doctor whether he liked it or not. [Czarina was in full swing now.]

"Shouldn't we wait until the antibiotics really kick in? I mean, I'm fine! This is no big deal!" he said.

That's when I lost it. I gave CN a tear-filled lecture about how worried I was and how he's got to go to the doctor, if only so that I can stop worrying. I listed off all the reasons I wasn't happy with Dr. Quack and told him a bunch of scary stories I had heard about unresolved gastro-intestinal issues. After about 20 minutes of nagging, lecturing, guilt-tripping and begging, he finally caved in and agreed to call.

Dr. B couldn't see him for 2 days.

"Ok, yeah, Friday is ok, then," CN said into the phone.

"No, it's NOT!!" I hissed. "You need to see someone TODAY!!"

We called the doctor recommended to us by Dr. B's receptionist.

"Tomorrow morning at 9? Sure, that would be ok," CN said into the phone.

By this point, I was ready to grab the phone away from him and do it myself. What is it with men and doctors??!!

"Does he specialize in gastroenterology? Ask her if he specializes in gastro-intestinal issues," I asked. CN asked receptionist #2.

"No, he doesn't," CN told me. He went back to talking to receptionist #2.

"My chief complaint? Uh...I don't feel good. Just, ya know, in pain, in my back, mostly," he said.

"No!! You are having severe abdominal pain and nothing is making it better and you need to see someone TODAY!" I practically yelled. I was hovering over him by this point, like a helicopter.

CN made the appointment for the next morning at 9am. He got off the phone.

"Ok, we are calling a gastroenterologist this time," I said.

"But I just made an appointment with a family doctor for tomorrow," he said, confused.

"Yes, I realize this, but you need a gastroenterologist TODAY. Tomorrow isn't good enough. If you don't take health problems seriously, they will turn into serious health problems," I said. I gave him the number I had looked up in the phone book. He called and made an appointment for 2:30 that afternoon.

I took off the rest of the afternoon so that I could go with him.

"This really isn't necessary," CN said, as I made a list of all his symptoms and all the foods he had eaten in the past 48 hours. "I'm a big boy. I can go to the doctor by myself."

"Oh yeah? You can? What happened last time?" I asked.

"He told me I was congested. And I'm not," he mumbled.

"What else?" I asked, shrewishly. I was on a roll, now. This was Classic Czarina, spewing from my mouth. My hands may have even been on my hips.

"And I forgot to tell the doctor all of my symptoms. Or ask questions," he mumbled again.

"I'm going to the doctor's appointment with you, even if they make me sit in the waiting room the whole time." I announced, one eyebrow raised. "Besides, look at you. You're in so much pain, you can't even sit up straight. You can't drive like this."

We went to the doctor, complete with the list of symptoms I had written and all his medicines, including the over the counter stuff. They let me go into the exam room with CN.

The doctor comes in, and we tell him everything. I make CN show him the list I made.

The doctor tells us that sometimes, when someone gets any kind of infection, it can mess with your gastro-intestinal tract. So it was probably the kidney infection causing the gastro-intestinal problems. The doctor asked CN some questions, just to rule out anything serious. CN was fine. Just a little backed up, was all. (Finally! Some answers!!)

"So what's up with the Mucinex?" I asked.

The doctor turned to CN. "Are you congested?" he asked.

"No," said CN.

"Hmmm....I bet Dr. Quack meant to write down 'Miralax', an OTC laxative, but he wrote down 'Mucinex' by mistake. So stop taking the Mucinex if you don't have congestion. Let's get you some Miralax instead, ok? You can get it at drugstores or grocery stores. It's over the counter," he said.

Oh my gawd. You have got to be kidding me, I thought. Jeez Louise. If CN was allowed to do what he wanted, he'd be dead or buying snake oil from some infomercial. I am just going to have to run this show from now on.

"Tell him about your prostate!!" I whispered to CN. CN has an enlarged prostate. It is hereditary in his family. His dad has prostate cancer right now, in fact, which is something you are at a high risk for if you have an enlarged prostate.

CN tells him all about the prostate issues.

"Ok, so let me get this straight. You have a urinary/kidney infection and an enlarged prostate?" asked the doctor.

"Yes," said CN.

"Well, what does your urologist say?" he continued.

"Um, I have never been to a urologist. Dr. Quack just told me to take saw palmetto, that herbal supplement that is supposed to help," CN explained.

You could have knocked the doctor over with a feather! He was visibly shocked. "You mean to tell me that you have prostate cancer in your immediate family, a history of enlarged prostate symptoms AND a urinary/kidney tract infection and you haven't been to a urologist??!" he exclaimed.

Thank you, you genius doctor, I thought. I have been telling him to go to a urologist for months.

"Um. No." CN mumbled.

"I'm referring you to one right away. You really don't need me, you need a urologist," he said.

We made the appointment at the urologist's, paid the bill and drove home.

"Thanks for coming with me, babe," CN said.

"You're welcome. Sorry I had to get all Czarina on your ass, but I was worried sick and you acted like you weren't concerned, and I got scared, which brings out my inner control freak," I said.

"No, I'm glad you did. It shows you care. I was kind of scared that there was something really wrong with me, and I didn't want to deal with it. Thanks for making me talk to a good doctor. I feel a lot better," he said.

"So I wasn't totally obnoxious?" I asked.

"No! You were great. I really appreciate it...Czarina."

"Shut up. Don't call me that ever again," I mumbled.

Sick Puppy

Note to readers: This is one of those posts where you should not eat and read. So put down your lunch.

This is a photo of my dog, Sammy. Yesterday, Sammy went to the vet to have some teeth pulled. Yes, I know I should brush my dog's teeth and yadda yadda yadda. Trust me, I have a pretty hefty guilt trip about it and I have sworn on all things holy to start brushing his teeth ASAP. But it was too late to save a couple of them, so he had to be put under so they could be removed. Just like humans, dogs must have empty tummies before being put under anesthesia. So poor Sammy didn't get to eat that morning.

After I got off work, I picked him up. The combination of anesthesia, pain killers and antibiotics left him looking pretty ill. He was lethargic and wobbly. The vet said that he will be like that for maybe a day, because the anesthesia had to wear off.

I took him home, and waited an hour to feed him, like the vet told me. I fed him half of what I normally fed him, and added water to the food so it would be soft, just like the vet told me. I also gave him one of the painkillers the vet had given me. Since Sammy was sick and I had a headache, we vegged out on the couch together all night. He was really not himself, poor little thing.

This morning, everything seemed to be fine -- Sammy was a littler perkier and seemed more like himself. So I gave him one of his antibiotic capsules before I forgot. Which was stupid of me, because I am Barf Queen, and I should have remembered one of the Laws of Barf:

Empty tummy + antibiotics = barf

So the medicine came back up. Realizing what I had done wrong, I decided to give Sammy some canned dog food and then tried again to give him his medicine.

He was starved, so he pretty much wolfed it down as usual. I followed it up with the antibiotic. Everything was fine for about an hour.

Then I went to go get ready for work. I came out of the bathroom a little later to find....

Tons of barf. It was everywhere. And not just in one spot, either -- it was like Sammy had made a lap around the room, barfing as he went. There was a giant circle of chunky, pinkish-reddish barf in my living room.

And of course, true to my level of luck, it was all on the carpet, rather than the easy-to-clean linoleum. I sighed and looked at my dog.

Sammy had that look on his face that he has when he does something wrong. Aw. My poor baby. He thought he was in trouble! So I reassured him that everything was ok, and began cleaning it up.

"Well, his tummy just needs to calm down still. I will try feeding him tonight when I get home," I thought. Worried, I decided to call the vet anyway. She said that it is just taking him longer to recover than usual, and just to give it time, and don't let him eat any more food for a while.

I went back to getting ready for work.

Sammy barfed again.

And again.

And again.

Seven pools of dog barf later, I was totally out of paper towels and rags. I was now running late for work, and my house smelled like carpet cleaner. Aw, man! I wish Sammy could just barf once and get it all over with, you know?

Hurrying around to get ready and clean up, I suddenly remembered that I had some leftover dog medicine for vomiting, from a while back. So I gave one of the pills to Sammy before I left for work today. CN is going to check on him in a little bit, but hopefully he will be ok now.

Poor little guy. He hasn't eaten in two days. :( And he looks so pathetic!!!



In other news, I went to my Big Brothers Big Sisters orientation. I am so excited about volunteering for them!! But first, I have to have a 2 hour interview, where they will ask me all kinds of stuff, including, but not limited to:

- my use of drugs, alcohol and tobacco
- whether or not I own firearms/have them in the house
- my living situation (ie, roommates, pets, etc.)
- my sexual orientation (I'm sure they will have questions about CN, since he lives so close to me)
- any abuse/neglect I have experienced in my life
- what my childhood was like and what my relationships with my family members are like
- why I want to volunteer for them

I figured these would be the sort of things they'd ask me about. And it's fine -- I totally understand, and I'm glad they ask the important questions. But I am afraid I'm going to cry during the interview!!! There's no way I can answer these questions without talking about my brother's death, my father's death, all the alcoholism in my family, my own alcoholism and the sexual assault I had in college. (No, I was not raped, but it was an act that I was forced into and I was physically restrained during it. So it's not exactly the highlight of my college experience. It's not a huge deal for me to talk about it, but it's not a picnic, either.)

It is about 4 weeks until my interview. So I have time to mentally prepare myself to talk about pretty much all the crap in my life in one go. Ugh. Anyway, after that, if my references check out and they like who I am and what I say during the interview (ie, I am not a danger to any child), they will start to look for a Little Sister for me. I was disappointed to hear that this process might take about 6 months. :( But it's just that they want to make sure they pair you up with someone who you can hang out with over the long term. So I understand.

They have encouraged us to think about what kind of a Little we are looking for. We have to think about what sorts of issues we are willing to deal with: behavioral, abuse, domestic violence, physical disability, etc. It's kind of a weird feeling, to sit here and think "yes" or "no" about some kid's life experience. A kid who has been having a rough go of things. And here I am, deciding what I can tolerate. But I understand why they want us to do this. Not everyone can handle every type of situation. And sometimes, if you have been in the same situation as the kid, you are a better match for them. So in the long run, I think it's good, the way they do this. You don't want to go through the whole process, only to back out of it 4 months later. These kids have enough problems, without you getting their hopes up.

Another thing they encouraged us to do was to do free or low-cost activities with the kids. Not only do you not want to feel resentment towards the kid about the money you spend, you don't want to spoil the kid or cause a rift between you and the parent. Most of the parents in this program don't have a lot of money, and you don't want to swoop down with your credit card and "save the day". Splitting the cost with the parents and doing something special for the kid's birthday are fine, but you don't want to be a walking wallet. It's just not a good idea. This is fine with me, because as we all know, I am trying to budget, anyway!

So I guess that is all I have for right now. The ball won't really get rolling until I go to my interview and cry when the lady brings up all my personal stuff! :P

Cruise News, Part 3

As much as I have complained about the cruise, it was not all bad.

Friday, we were in port at Freeport. We decided not to go on any excursions that day, in order to save money. Besides, we were only there for about 7 hours, and none of the excursions sounded like they were can't-miss. Freeport is, according to all the travel websites and books I consulted, not anything worth seeing.

CN and I did look at the little tshirt shops that were literally right off the gangplank. I finally got to listen to someone speak in the local Bahamian accent. It sounds very similar to a Jamaican accent, but not as thick. After about an hour, we had seen everything there was to see, so we got back on the boat.

That night, we had our formal dinner. We went to the cocktail party beforehand, where we had yummy appetizers and drinks--all free. CN and I did a little slow dancing, which was nice (aw). For dinner, most of our group opted for the surf n turf combo: filet mignon and lobster tail. Aside from the lobster tail being rubbery and overcooked, it was good food.

Everyone changed into more comfortable clothes immediately after eating dinner, which doesn't really justify getting all dressed up to begin with. (Note to self: VB, you enjoy vacations which do not require formal wear.) Everything was going pretty well, and CN and I even managed to stay up with the rest of the group for about an hour. But by then, we were pooped, so we went to bed.

At some point that night, we were jarred awake by extremely loud banging on our door. At first, I imagined we were in the midst of some kind of Titanic-like sinking, or there was a big fire on board. CN, who was closer to the door, jumped up to see who was banging at the door.

No one was there. No one was even in the hallway.

Waking up in a panicked state is probably my least favorite thing in the whole world. So I was pretty pissed. "Stupid kids..." I mumbled, as I rolled back over to go back to sleep.

That's when the phone rang.

CN answered it.

"Hello?" asked CN.

*BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRP!!!* said Larva.

*click!* went the phone. Larva hung up on CN.

"It's Larva," explained CN. "I know him. He's not going to stop."

I groaned.

That's when the banging started again. As soon as CN would get up to tell Larva to stop, Larva would run down the hall, giggling, and finally ducking into his room in the nic of time. CN would come back to bed, and as soon as we had gotten comfortable and closed our eyes, the phone would ring again. Ignoring the phone did not work. It just kept ringing. Taking it off the hook caused it to make a very loud beeping sound. So we were forced to deal with the incessant ringing.

This went on for at least a half an hour. Banging. Ringing. Burping. Giggling. Repeat.

After round 3 of this, I had had enough. I stood up and informed CN that although Larva is his friend, I officially hate him and never wish to ever hang out with him again. And that this bullshit had to stop. Now.

CN was way ahead of me. He was even more pissed off than I was. "That's it. I'm punching him in the face. I'm going down to his room and when he opens the door, I'm clocking him," he announced.

CN went down to Larva's room. I can't remember how long he was there, since I was groggy at best. But I remember that CN came back frustrated that Larva wouldn't even answer the door. Neither would his wife, Sandra. (We found out later this was because she had PTFO.)

We tried to go back to sleep, but ended up tossing and turning for about an hour, since we were so wound up. We didn't sleep very well that night.

In the morning, we tried to get in better moods, despite Larva's lack of an apology. *grrrr* We had breakfast and then got ready for our port-of-call in Nassau. We all decided to spend $65 (each) on a 4 hour excursion and go together as a group. At 9am, we got onto a ferry for a 30 minute ride off the coast. By this point, the water was breathtaking. It looked like this, but better. I don't really know how to describe it, other than to say that all those photos you see of the Caribbean do not do the real thing any justice. The weather was perfect, and there was a nice breeze. Ahhh. So far, so good.

The ferry took us to a small island, where there was a beach, a bar, a souvenir shop and a snack shack. We had our photos taken, and then put our stuff down on some lawn chairs. Then, we went to a little roped-off area where we grabbed snorkeling equipment.

It was time to go swimming with sting rays.

Oh yes. The same animal that killed the Crocodile Hunter. Only these were de-barbed for our safety. Whew. On a side note, these animals are really creepy, so the barbs are really superfluous, IMHO.

I put on my snorkeling equipment and began swimming around the sting ray area. The creepy sting rays move like underwater birds. They tend to herd together and swim in schools. If you have ever seen a horseshoe crab, the sting ray looks like a flattened version of it! [Note: These two animals are not really related. Sting rays are related to sharks and horseshoe crabs are related to spiders and ticks. Sorry for the geek moment, folks.]

I am giddy with excitement about this whole experience. Not only were there sting rays of various sizes and colors, there were also white, blue and yellow fish. I am pretty sure some of them were Angelfish. I have gone snorkeling before, and I absolutely adore it. It's like being in a giant aquarium. So I was really enjoying this.

Until I realized........that I had no idea where my boyfriend was or if he was ok.

The same boyfriend who cannot swim.

Uh-oh.

I pulled my head up to look for him. I expected him to be in ankle-deep water, just watching everyone else, or practically drowning somewhere. He wasn't. He was only a few feet behind me, snorkeling!!! I was totally shocked. It turns out that he can sorta-kinda swim and doesn't start freaking out until the water is as deep as his chin. "Plus, the flotation device is helping," he said. (The flotation device was part of our snorkeling equipment.)

I was so proud of him.

Even if he jumped and squealed like a little girl any time one of the sting rays came close to him.

After letting us swim around for a while, the sting ray guides (keepers? handlers?) told us to line up into two lines and face each other. It was time to feed the sting rays. Cool! The sting rays must have known what the two lines meant, because they began to swim very quickly and swarm around us, rather than ignore us as they had moments before.

The guides (keepers? handlers??) then went around and handed each of us a handful of chopped up, raw squid. Um, thanks. Then they told us how to feed the sting rays by holding the squid under the water, just above the sand. The sting rays would swim over your hand and hoover up the squid parts. "They use suction to capture their food," the guide explained. Ew. Kind of like an underwater vacuum cleaner.

Thanks to my overactive imagination, the only image that came to mind was my arm, trapped inside a very angry sting ray, which was doing its best to suck the flesh off my bones as I screamed bloody murder and writhed in agony in the shallow area of this wading pool full of horrified cruise vacationers.

So when a sting ray came near me, I held the squid part under the water for a second, only to let go too soon and watch as the snack, intended for the sting ray, was snatched up by a fish. Oops. Sorry, Mr. Sting Ray. Next time, don't be so creepy, ok?

Next, I was shocked to see that some people were actually touching the sting rays. Didn't they realize they were risking their lives?? That their appendages could be shredded in an instant, much like a garbage disposal would, subjected to the unpredictable will of these shark cousins with extremely powerful suckage mechanisms in their mouths??? Were they insane???!! These are the pool drains of the animal kingdom! Keep your fingers and hair away, people!!!

"Cool! How does it feel??" I asked the guy across from me.

"Slimy!" he replied, excitedly.

"Oh, wow. I wanna touch one!" I said, suddenly forgetting my imagination's vivid and gory warnings.

The guy was right. They are slimy. Firm, but slimy. But as cool as it was, I didn't feel the need to touch them again. Once was plenty.

I looked down the line to see what CN was doing. He looked nervous and tense, and still jumped and yelped any time one of the sting rays came near. I couldn't help but laugh.

I found out later that a great deal of the yelping and jumping had to do with the fact that Larva had put squid parts in CN's pocket, so the sting rays were swarming around CN like bees.

Tee hee. As obnoxious as Larva is, I had to give him credit on that one.

After the sting rays, we had lunch and then hung out in the beach area for a little while. CN and I were enjoying the water, when we noticed a wild, fully barbed sting ray in the water. This was not one of the captive, tame ones we had just fed. It was huge, and it was headed our way.

This time, my overactive imagination threw potential newspaper headlines at me: "Couple, 29, Killed by Wild Sting Ray: 'It was just horrible to watch' witnesses say" and "Wildlife Community Warns of Vacation Danger: Man Never Had a Chance, Experts Say". So I grabbed CN's hand and practically dragged him out of the water lickety split.

"Gee, thanks, Mom," he said sarcastically.

"Shut up! I just saved your life! You can't swim!" I said.

He doesn't know that I was actually more scared of it than he was!!

Then it was time to go, so we all got back on the ferry and were, well, ferried back to our cruise ship. CN and I spent the rest of the day shopping in Nassau.

It was so nice to get off the boat, even if everything was just tshirt/souvenir shops. There was the occasional luxury goods store (Gucci, Bulgari, Fendi, Breitling), but the prices were still outrageous, even duty-free.

Like so many foreign cities around the world, escaping American culture was difficult: Ford cars on the streets, KFC was open for lunch and the U.S. Dollar was the currency. And everything was made in China. ;)

After wandering around for a while, I was very excited to see the big tent where they sell the fake designer handbags. I freaking love these things. They never look like the real thing, but they are still great-looking bags. This time, I got a big, yellow patent-leather Prada. (I will share a pic soon, promise!) I also got a small, black Coach and a large, black Coach tote. I got all three for $100. Yippee!!!!

I tell you what, if you ever go to The Bahamas, make sure you can make up your mind quickly. Everyone there is extremely pushy. They certainly do not take "no" for an answer! CN ended up buying a cigar from a kid, only to get him to shut up and go away. And they expect you to buy anything you look at longer than 5 seconds. I inspected one handbag for a good minute, only to tell the lady that I was not interested. She was really pissed and told me that I wasted her time!! "Well, you need to sell cuter fake handbags," I thought. Hmph!

By about 4pm, CN and I were pooped, so we went back to the boat and took another nice, long nap. It was the perfect end to a great day.