Hey Guys,
I know I stink for not blogging more, but my job keeps me SLAMMED every day, unlike my old job, where I would get so bored I would count the ceiling tiles sometimes. It's great!! So now, by the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is sit down in front of a computer. I am so tired of looking at spreadsheets and websites and Word docs, I just want to hang out with CN and maybe cook some dinner.
I would blog more on the weekends, except we are never home on the weekends. Between weddings, family duties and my working the occassional Sunday, we have little to no weekend time. This coming weekend will be the first weekend this month where we are not going anywhere. I am sick to death of living out of a suitcase every weekend. I don't know how jetsetting people can live like that.
There is some bad news. CN's dad passed away on May 8th. So that has taken up a lot of our free time, obviously. He was in so much pain by the time he passed away, it was actually a relief. CN's mom (maybe I should just start calling her my MIL?) is doing a really good job at hanging in there. She's tough like my mom, so I know she's going to be ok. She's pretty excited to get out of the house, since she's been cooped up there, taking care of her hubby for months. I was really glad when her siblings arrived from Alabama to attend the funeral and hang out for a few days. CN's mom is one of TEN kids, and seven of them came up for the funeral. Until they arrived, the mood around the house was, not surprisingly, grim and sad. But once they got there, the joking and the teasing and the laughter returned to CN's mom. They are a big family of jokesters, and it was really good to see her laugh. They helped all of us cheer up a little. CN and I were incessantly teased once they found out we are sorta-kinda engaged.
Speaking of that, CN and I basically refer to each other as fiancee. But there are still no rings, popping of questions or wedding plans to speak of. We haven't had time! And when we do have time to do stuff, our house is too cramped to do it. There's no where to spread out or relax. So we are moving soon. We have broken the news to our landlord that we are moving out on July 15th. We can't take it anymore. Our house is too small, our neighborhood is too dangerous. We have never been this excited to move! We are still looking for a place (which eats up more of our free time) but the good thing is, there are always tons of places to rent in Savannah.
As far as my job goes, I am really liking it. I always have stuff to do and I get to make a lot of executive decisions, since I head up a department now. Unfortunately, within weeks of my arrival, my entire staff quit. Ha ha. No, it's not because of me. The first girl who quit already had the new job lined up before I was even hired. She kind of sucked anyway, so she's not missed, I can assure you. Among other things, she received a long list of books from a professor who wanted us to buy them for the library. She NEVER acknowledged this list, never looked at it, never got in touch w/the professor. The list sat on her desk for over a year before she gave it to me on her way out the door. And we wonder why we have crappy relationships with our faculty!! That made me so angry, because seriously, how hard is it to send a frigging email?? (I have since made sure we are purchasing ALL of the books and sent the prof a very long and apologetic email. Better late than never.)
The other girl in my department ROCKS. But she moved here from Boston last fall, hoping that her hubby would be able to eventually find a job down here (he's an architect), but that doesn't seem to be happening. Then, her MIL got cancer and it's not going well. So she is moving back to Boston to be with her hubby, which I completely understand. It just stinks, because she is a fantastic worker who I rely on time and time again. She was practically in tears when she put in her resignation a few weeks ago, but I told her that I completely understand and that I think she needs to be with her family. So it stinks, but that's the way the cookie crumbles.
So I have been spending large quantities of time reading resumes and applications for these two positions. I have got to tell you about that experience! Wowza. But I gotta go, guys. I was supposed to be in the shower fifteen minutes ago. Oops. Hope everyone is well!!! I will try to be better about blogging and reading everyone's blogs!!
Showing posts with label that bitch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label that bitch. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Friday, July 25, 2008
Timelines
Well, after three verbal requests and a nasty email, I was a little pissed to see that my manager at Dildo's was still ignoring my request for a weekend off. When I got to work on Wednesday, she hadn't even so much as given me a courtesy reply to my email. Not even a "I will have to see about this. I will talk to you later about it." -- I got nothing. Nada. [insert rage and frustration here.]
I knew she hadn't left work yet, so I paged her. No reply. I knew she was ignoring me. [insert more rage and frustration here.]
About a half hour later, I see her, trying to sneak away by taking the long way around the jewelry department. It was raining, and she even had the nerve to sort of hold her umbrella in front of her face. As if I'm not going to know it's her!!! ARGH.
"Heather!" I shouted, accusingly. She was so busted. She stopped, put down the umbrella, and glared at me.
"I need to talk to you about my schedule," I continued, unfazed. "I'm tired of this. I need a weekend off. And why didn't you reply to my page?"
"Technically, I'm not here right now," she snapped back. Ohhhhhh, no she didn't!!! I have talked to her numerous times, and she keeps blowing me off, and NOW she's copping an attitude with ME??? That little fresh-outta-college snooty ass bitch! She is going DOWN. I am so sick of her making time in her day to flirt with one of the other managers but never making time to do her fucking job.
Then she told me that I need to realize that not everyone gets a weekend off every month. Some people just don't get one, sometimes.
I replied, "Yeah. I know. I'm one of them. But I need this weekend off."
I did not appreciate her attitude or her bullshit. Almost everyone else in the department gets their weekends off with no problem. But for me and a couple other people, we have to pull teeth. It makes no sense.
"Fine," she said, halfway rolling her eyes. "Just take it."
"Thank you," I replied. Heather left.
I was so pissed off at the way she had just acted, I almost walked out right then and there. If it weren't for a special sale going on today, I probably would have just quit on the spot. But there's some jewelry I want to buy...so I will work tonight.
Over my luxurious weekend off, I will think about whether or not I will return to Dildo's on Monday. I might. I might not. Maybe I will "forget" to come in. Or perhaps I will, but I will "technically not be there." AAAARRRGH.
I am really crossing my fingers that I will hear SOON about whether or not I get to teach this class. I don't know how much longer I can put up with Dildo's. Maybe I can hang in there for two more weeks...
Speaking of timelines, I talked to The Czarina the other day. Now, a lot of people have a hard time understanding why she drives me nuts, but if they knew the crazy things that she says to me, they would understand. This is basically how our phone conversation went:
Mom: So, how is CN?
VB: He's fine! Wonderful as usual.
Mom: That's good. He's such a nice guy. I do like him.
*Relief on my end of the line.*
[Little do I know, she's just setting me up. That was her idea of a warm up to what she really wanted to lecture me about.]
Mom: So, have you two talked about marriage yet?
Oh Jezus. Here we go....
VB: *trying desperately to think up an urgent reason to get off the phone.* Not really, Mom. No.
Mom: Well, you know, you might want to put him on a timeline. You don't want to waste any more time. I mean, if he's never going to pop the question...you might just want to break it off.
[Nevermind that doing so would make me totally miserable, but apparently, this is beside her point. And I love how all the time I've spent dating him has been a 'waste' of time.]
VB: Mom, we're fine. We have had a couple of conversations in that direction. He asked a lot of questions about my roommate's engagement. And we talked about kids once.
Mom: *hissing* Well, don't bring it up! You want it to be his idea! Let me tell you, you don't want a man who doesn't have to marry you. All that stuff should be his idea! It all needs to come from him! He needs to really really want to marry you.
VB: Ok, Mom. I get it. Yes, I agree. I don't want to browbeat him into it or anything. I'm not really an ultimatum kind of girl.
Mom: Ok, well stop bringing up wedding stuff. Don't even mention it around him.
VB: *rolling my eyes* Ok, Mom. We haven't even been dating a year yet. Everything is fine.
Mom: Ok, well, I love you, hon. I'll talk to you later.
VB: I love you, too, Mom. Bye.
Is anyone else wondering how it is fair to put CN on a "timeline" without informing him about this timeline? Doesn't seem quite fair, does it? It's like she's saying, "He needs to marry you soon. But don't talk about marriage." WTF? That doesn't make any sense! That's like yelling at someone for not taking out the trash, when they didn't even know the trash was full in the first place. Even though you knew the trash was full the whole time. It's like expecting someone to read your mind. And it's not fair.
And nevermind that he and I may not be ready for all of that yet! I love how she never asks me how I feel about this idea. Apparently, I don't need to think about it or decide anything for myself. It's all about how CN feels. A marriage conversation is totally one-sided, I guess. We know there would be no hold up on my end. I must be ready. I'm a girl. I want to be married yesterday. (Ok, I guess I can't really argue with the last statement...let's be honest, here.) But good grief! Like I need any pressure from my mother!!! We'll get there when we get there!
She's acting like women have to trick men into marrying them or something. And that's not what I'm all about. At all. If CN turned to me today and said, "I don't want to get married for another 8 years." I would be ok with it. Obviously, I wouldn't be super excited about it, because I would like to get married before I'm 40, in all honesty. But that's not something I would break up over. I would still want to be with him, even if he took his sweet ass time. I'm trying to enjoy the ride, not set an egg timer.
Jeezus! What is with her advice lately?? This is almost as bad as the time she told me I should go to medical school:
"Why, Mom? I don't want to be a doctor. I don't even want to be in the medical field. That's a helluva lot of debt. And besides, I have a weak stomach. Why on earth would I do that?" I replied.
"Duh!!! So you can meet and marry a doctor, Virginia!" she replied, frustrated. I swear, if she had been sitting closer to me, she would have thunked me in the head.
Do you see what I have to put up with?? My mother is crazy!
I knew she hadn't left work yet, so I paged her. No reply. I knew she was ignoring me. [insert more rage and frustration here.]
About a half hour later, I see her, trying to sneak away by taking the long way around the jewelry department. It was raining, and she even had the nerve to sort of hold her umbrella in front of her face. As if I'm not going to know it's her!!! ARGH.
"Heather!" I shouted, accusingly. She was so busted. She stopped, put down the umbrella, and glared at me.
"I need to talk to you about my schedule," I continued, unfazed. "I'm tired of this. I need a weekend off. And why didn't you reply to my page?"
"Technically, I'm not here right now," she snapped back. Ohhhhhh, no she didn't!!! I have talked to her numerous times, and she keeps blowing me off, and NOW she's copping an attitude with ME??? That little fresh-outta-college snooty ass bitch! She is going DOWN. I am so sick of her making time in her day to flirt with one of the other managers but never making time to do her fucking job.
Then she told me that I need to realize that not everyone gets a weekend off every month. Some people just don't get one, sometimes.
I replied, "Yeah. I know. I'm one of them. But I need this weekend off."
I did not appreciate her attitude or her bullshit. Almost everyone else in the department gets their weekends off with no problem. But for me and a couple other people, we have to pull teeth. It makes no sense.
"Fine," she said, halfway rolling her eyes. "Just take it."
"Thank you," I replied. Heather left.
I was so pissed off at the way she had just acted, I almost walked out right then and there. If it weren't for a special sale going on today, I probably would have just quit on the spot. But there's some jewelry I want to buy...so I will work tonight.
Over my luxurious weekend off, I will think about whether or not I will return to Dildo's on Monday. I might. I might not. Maybe I will "forget" to come in. Or perhaps I will, but I will "technically not be there." AAAARRRGH.
I am really crossing my fingers that I will hear SOON about whether or not I get to teach this class. I don't know how much longer I can put up with Dildo's. Maybe I can hang in there for two more weeks...
Speaking of timelines, I talked to The Czarina the other day. Now, a lot of people have a hard time understanding why she drives me nuts, but if they knew the crazy things that she says to me, they would understand. This is basically how our phone conversation went:
Mom: So, how is CN?
VB: He's fine! Wonderful as usual.
Mom: That's good. He's such a nice guy. I do like him.
*Relief on my end of the line.*
[Little do I know, she's just setting me up. That was her idea of a warm up to what she really wanted to lecture me about.]
Mom: So, have you two talked about marriage yet?
Oh Jezus. Here we go....
VB: *trying desperately to think up an urgent reason to get off the phone.* Not really, Mom. No.
Mom: Well, you know, you might want to put him on a timeline. You don't want to waste any more time. I mean, if he's never going to pop the question...you might just want to break it off.
[Nevermind that doing so would make me totally miserable, but apparently, this is beside her point. And I love how all the time I've spent dating him has been a 'waste' of time.]
VB: Mom, we're fine. We have had a couple of conversations in that direction. He asked a lot of questions about my roommate's engagement. And we talked about kids once.
Mom: *hissing* Well, don't bring it up! You want it to be his idea! Let me tell you, you don't want a man who doesn't have to marry you. All that stuff should be his idea! It all needs to come from him! He needs to really really want to marry you.
VB: Ok, Mom. I get it. Yes, I agree. I don't want to browbeat him into it or anything. I'm not really an ultimatum kind of girl.
Mom: Ok, well stop bringing up wedding stuff. Don't even mention it around him.
VB: *rolling my eyes* Ok, Mom. We haven't even been dating a year yet. Everything is fine.
Mom: Ok, well, I love you, hon. I'll talk to you later.
VB: I love you, too, Mom. Bye.
Is anyone else wondering how it is fair to put CN on a "timeline" without informing him about this timeline? Doesn't seem quite fair, does it? It's like she's saying, "He needs to marry you soon. But don't talk about marriage." WTF? That doesn't make any sense! That's like yelling at someone for not taking out the trash, when they didn't even know the trash was full in the first place. Even though you knew the trash was full the whole time. It's like expecting someone to read your mind. And it's not fair.
And nevermind that he and I may not be ready for all of that yet! I love how she never asks me how I feel about this idea. Apparently, I don't need to think about it or decide anything for myself. It's all about how CN feels. A marriage conversation is totally one-sided, I guess. We know there would be no hold up on my end. I must be ready. I'm a girl. I want to be married yesterday. (Ok, I guess I can't really argue with the last statement...let's be honest, here.) But good grief! Like I need any pressure from my mother!!! We'll get there when we get there!
She's acting like women have to trick men into marrying them or something. And that's not what I'm all about. At all. If CN turned to me today and said, "I don't want to get married for another 8 years." I would be ok with it. Obviously, I wouldn't be super excited about it, because I would like to get married before I'm 40, in all honesty. But that's not something I would break up over. I would still want to be with him, even if he took his sweet ass time. I'm trying to enjoy the ride, not set an egg timer.
Jeezus! What is with her advice lately?? This is almost as bad as the time she told me I should go to medical school:
"Why, Mom? I don't want to be a doctor. I don't even want to be in the medical field. That's a helluva lot of debt. And besides, I have a weak stomach. Why on earth would I do that?" I replied.
"Duh!!! So you can meet and marry a doctor, Virginia!" she replied, frustrated. I swear, if she had been sitting closer to me, she would have thunked me in the head.
Do you see what I have to put up with?? My mother is crazy!
Monday, July 21, 2008
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. :\
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. :\
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Thursday 13
Holy cow, have I had some serious writers' block today. I have been trying to think of something for at least an hour now! But since I'm working so much, not a whole lot has been going on. And I didn't feel like whining about my lack of a life today. Plus, I'm tired, so it can't be anything too mentally involved. So this works pretty well, and I promise I won't be gross:
1. Left side of my jaw -- this is what happens when you play violin for 10 years. Please, warn your children now.
2. Upper back, on left (?) shoulder blade -- I had a mole removed when I was about 10. It was big, so there were stitches. A plastic surgeon was brought in to prevent a huge scar from forming. This was my mother's idea. She was worried about my wearing a backless prom dress. Nevermind that when I grew olders, I was never allowed to wear a backless anything...
3. Left shin -- A big, scary dog was barking at me. So I did what any 7 year old would do. I tried to climb up a bookcase to get away from it. I sorta hit the corner of an iron flower pot on the way up. Trauma ensued. Weird trivia fact: CN has a scar in the same place, and it looks JUST like mine.
4. Right forearm -- Burned my arm taking a giant cheesecake out of the oven. It was worth it.
5. Left elbow -- Bike wreck at my 8th birthday party. I had only recently learned how to ride a bike, and participating in a race on a looped gravel driveway seemed like a good idea. More trauma.
6. Left eyebrow -- I was a baby. Dad was babysitting me for the first time. The phone rang, and Dad left me on the bed, alone, while he went to answer it. I took this opportunity to fall off the bed, hitting a table on the way down. A couple inches difference, and I would have knocked out an eyeball. Needless to say, Dad didn't babysit me anymore after that. I now have a thin, horizontal scar which ended up working out really well -- it's perfectly aligned to where I tweeze my eyebrow!
7. Belly -- In addition to other places, this is where I have a prominent chicken pox scar. Unfortunately for me, I came down with the chicken pox just in time to miss Nikki Arnold's 8th birthday party. It was close to my own birthday, if I remember correctly. But I was more upset about missing Nikki's birthday party because she was the most popular girl in our class.
8. Left shin, just below the flower pot scar -- a terrifyingly loooong scar from what I like to call The Disposable Razor Incident. *shudders*
9. Left thigh -- In the 2nd grade, I had a stonewashed denim purse. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I kept a pencil in it. One day, as I was getting out of a car (or was it a bus? I can't remember) to go to school, the tip of the pencil had worked its way through the fabric and poked me in the thigh. You can still see the pencil lead in my leg!
10. My ass -- MRSA. If you really want the details, do a search for MRSA on this blog. I don't wanna talk about it.
11. My bottom lip -- Another baby story. I was holding a bottle in my mouth. I was busy walking around and didn't feel like using my hands to hold the bottle, so I just clamped down on the bottle nipple with my teeth to hold onto it. Aah! My hands were free to help me balance! Too bad it didn't work. I fell, face first. The lid on the bottle cut my bottom lip. I still have the semi-circle scar.
12. Fingers -- From a summer spent at the neighborhood pool when I was in middle school. I was trying to learn how to dive, but I kept scraping my fingers on the bottom of the pool, because I hated opening my eyes under water, so I could never actually see the bottom or sides of the pool. And in case you've forgotten: scrape + chlorine = ouch. I don't dive anymore.
13. Lower back -- A souvenir from Dr. Nazi, the evil dermatologist who removed a small mole from my lower back (yes, I am a moley person) without any local anesthetic. She basically melon-balled me. OUCH. I do not recommend. Definitely ask for the novocaine.
Now that I have just written this, it sounds eerily familiar. Have I already written this same post?? I don't know. I'm too tired to go look. If I did, I apologize.
Share some scar stories with me!! Nothing gross, please. Do you have any interesting scars?
Thirteen Scars on My Body
1. Left side of my jaw -- this is what happens when you play violin for 10 years. Please, warn your children now.
2. Upper back, on left (?) shoulder blade -- I had a mole removed when I was about 10. It was big, so there were stitches. A plastic surgeon was brought in to prevent a huge scar from forming. This was my mother's idea. She was worried about my wearing a backless prom dress. Nevermind that when I grew olders, I was never allowed to wear a backless anything...
3. Left shin -- A big, scary dog was barking at me. So I did what any 7 year old would do. I tried to climb up a bookcase to get away from it. I sorta hit the corner of an iron flower pot on the way up. Trauma ensued. Weird trivia fact: CN has a scar in the same place, and it looks JUST like mine.
4. Right forearm -- Burned my arm taking a giant cheesecake out of the oven. It was worth it.
5. Left elbow -- Bike wreck at my 8th birthday party. I had only recently learned how to ride a bike, and participating in a race on a looped gravel driveway seemed like a good idea. More trauma.
6. Left eyebrow -- I was a baby. Dad was babysitting me for the first time. The phone rang, and Dad left me on the bed, alone, while he went to answer it. I took this opportunity to fall off the bed, hitting a table on the way down. A couple inches difference, and I would have knocked out an eyeball. Needless to say, Dad didn't babysit me anymore after that. I now have a thin, horizontal scar which ended up working out really well -- it's perfectly aligned to where I tweeze my eyebrow!
7. Belly -- In addition to other places, this is where I have a prominent chicken pox scar. Unfortunately for me, I came down with the chicken pox just in time to miss Nikki Arnold's 8th birthday party. It was close to my own birthday, if I remember correctly. But I was more upset about missing Nikki's birthday party because she was the most popular girl in our class.
8. Left shin, just below the flower pot scar -- a terrifyingly loooong scar from what I like to call The Disposable Razor Incident. *shudders*
9. Left thigh -- In the 2nd grade, I had a stonewashed denim purse. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I kept a pencil in it. One day, as I was getting out of a car (or was it a bus? I can't remember) to go to school, the tip of the pencil had worked its way through the fabric and poked me in the thigh. You can still see the pencil lead in my leg!
10. My ass -- MRSA. If you really want the details, do a search for MRSA on this blog. I don't wanna talk about it.
11. My bottom lip -- Another baby story. I was holding a bottle in my mouth. I was busy walking around and didn't feel like using my hands to hold the bottle, so I just clamped down on the bottle nipple with my teeth to hold onto it. Aah! My hands were free to help me balance! Too bad it didn't work. I fell, face first. The lid on the bottle cut my bottom lip. I still have the semi-circle scar.
12. Fingers -- From a summer spent at the neighborhood pool when I was in middle school. I was trying to learn how to dive, but I kept scraping my fingers on the bottom of the pool, because I hated opening my eyes under water, so I could never actually see the bottom or sides of the pool. And in case you've forgotten: scrape + chlorine = ouch. I don't dive anymore.
13. Lower back -- A souvenir from Dr. Nazi, the evil dermatologist who removed a small mole from my lower back (yes, I am a moley person) without any local anesthetic. She basically melon-balled me. OUCH. I do not recommend. Definitely ask for the novocaine.
Now that I have just written this, it sounds eerily familiar. Have I already written this same post?? I don't know. I'm too tired to go look. If I did, I apologize.
Share some scar stories with me!! Nothing gross, please. Do you have any interesting scars?
Monday, June 09, 2008
Faux Pas Over Faux Pearls
I was working at Dildo's the other night. So far, so good. I'm still getting used to my crammed schedule, but my coworkers are nice and the work is pretty fun. Until I can "prove" myself as a salesgirl, I am currently working in the accessories department, awaiting permission to move over to the Clinique counter.
Nevermind that I already have 2 1/2 years of Clinique experience, working at the Dildo's across town. There's some new rule for everyone -- you have to go to a "regular" area and play Good Little Employee before you can go to a "specialized" area. Whatever. So for the time being, I help women shop for purses, jewelry, scarves, wallets, watches, sunglasses and hats.
Which isn't half bad, considering I love to shop for those things. So I get to shop vicariously through these women -- which is great for my bank account. I get all the fun of shopping and none of the buyer's remorse. It might not be the end of the world if they never move me to cosmetics, actually.
The other night, I was helping an older lady find a necklace to match her shirt. After some searching, we found the perfect one. I was ringing her up and chatting with her, when she said,
"Can I ask, are you expecting?"
She put this weird emphasis on "expecting". Almost like she was saying, "Why the hell aren't you announcing this to the world? Why are you hiding this fact, you modest young thing? Don't you know this is the greatest thing that could ever possibly happen to you in your entire life? You should be shouting it from the hilltops, like Maria Von Trapp."
Needless to say, I was stunned speechless. For once. You could almost hear the needle on the record player being ripped off. I froze.
This is not happening. I am not being mistaken for a pregnant woman. I am not that fat.
I am not.
I am not.
I am not.
FUCK. Am I?
*several blinks on my behalf*
*several blinks on her behalf*
We sat there, blinking at each other, while she grimaced and awkwardly gathered up her things to leave, and I smoothed my shirt down, subconsciously ensuring that no pillow had magically appeared under my top. What. The. Fuck.
Well, of course, you know what happened next: The Voices all woke up and turned their heads in unison to look at this old lady. And then, they all had to get their two cents in.
"Oh, no she di-dant!!!" yelled Bitch Mode, complete with index-finger-waving hand gestures.
"You should ask her if she's senile! That'll shut her up!" said Sarcastic.
"Well, I've been telling you for months that you have to do something about this weight you've been putting on. What do you expect?" sniped Inner Mom Voice.
"Oh my gawd!! You're a COW!!!" shrieks Hormonal. She runs away to sob into her hands. Hormonal is such a drama queen.
"Well, the way you an CN have been acting lately, who knows? Maybe you are!" giggles Pervert.
Horny is in stitches. The two of them make randy hand gestures and proceed to take turns cracking each other up with their obscene double entendres. The peanut gallery is in full swing. Great.
I roll my eyes.
"You really picked out a great necklace for her. Very stylish. I think The Czarina would like it, too. Let's go see if there's another one," observed Space Cadet, who proceeded to wander off.
Good Point chimed in: "Dude, everyone and their mother knows that is something you NEVER ask, unless you are 200% positive the woman is pregnant. And THIS is why that rule exists! She just made a HUGE social faux pas!!"
"Hmmm...I wonder if there are earrings that match....." mused Space Cadet. "You could make a set...."
"What was that??? Pregnant? Who said that? Who said the 'P' word? OMG! We have to get to a drugstore NOW, people!!" said Panic, heartbeat racing.
Good Point calmed Panic down and then added, "Look, I bet she feels worse than you do, running all over town with a big, fat mouth like that. Assuming things about people. She has her foot in her mouth right now. She was embarrassed, you know you could tell."
"But baby-doll tops are IN right now!!!" protested Single Girl.
"Yeah! There's nothing wrong with ruffles and empire waist tops! They're feminine!" agreed Prisspot.
"Yeah, but in the past, tops like that have been reserved strictly for expectant mothers," explained Overly Analytical. "There's a generational gap at play, here. Your fashion taste, while good, is confusing to the elderly."
"Well, if that's the case, there should be Public Service Announcements about this issue," Nerd said. "The public needs to be aware. Maybe we could call our Congressmen..."
"Maybe she just thought you would be a really good mom, and she was hoping you were!" Stupidly Optimistic gushed. "Or maybe she had you confused with the other lady in this department who IS pregnant!"
Sarcastic and Cynical gave her a look. She shut up.
"Oh, this is just great. For the last three months, ever since you started buying those tops, you have been running around town, causing people to think 'Aw, she's having a baby! Isn't that wonderful?' I mean, who knows how many people have thinking that!" lectured Pessimistically Paranoid, pacing in a circle.
Oh Jeez. What if the next time someone made this mistake, they do it in front of CN??? Oh, the mortification!!! I pondered the thought of chucking all my new tops in the trash, as soon as I got home that night. Cheapskate vetoed this idea. Single Girl backed her up, as did Prisspot. Damn. What am I going to do about these shirts? Buy a bunch of belts??
I was jolted out of my thoughts by Pessimistically Paranoid's ranting.
"I mean, if you look pregnant now, what are you going to look like when you really ARE pregnant?" she lamented.
"Babies are nice..." Space Cadet said to herself absentmindedly, as she looked at a rack of earrings.
Bitch Mode and Hormonal were whispering to each other and picking up the phone.
"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Duh. We're calling security to tell them that there's an old lady who just stole a necklace here in the store," they replied, snickering.
Cynical snorted. "That'll teach her!" she laughed.
Luckily, Bitch Mode and Hormonal were stopped from carrying out their plan by Logical. Sometimes, I think she's the only adult Voice.
Confident was no where to be found. I learned later that she was busy, lobbying for more gym time and fresh veggies in the fridge. And for once, I think most of the Voices listened to her. Even Hormonal, who tried really hard to cry on the way home, but just couldn't. Fashion choices aside, perhaps this was a wake-up call.
"Gah, you are now officially fat enough to be confused with a pregnant woman!!" cried Hormonal.
"Or maybe it's just because you have huge tits, just like most pregnant women do!" said Pervert.
"Or maybe she's just a rude, ignorant old bag," chimed Good Point.
Good point, indeed. Pass the brownies, will ya?
Nevermind that I already have 2 1/2 years of Clinique experience, working at the Dildo's across town. There's some new rule for everyone -- you have to go to a "regular" area and play Good Little Employee before you can go to a "specialized" area. Whatever. So for the time being, I help women shop for purses, jewelry, scarves, wallets, watches, sunglasses and hats.
Which isn't half bad, considering I love to shop for those things. So I get to shop vicariously through these women -- which is great for my bank account. I get all the fun of shopping and none of the buyer's remorse. It might not be the end of the world if they never move me to cosmetics, actually.
The other night, I was helping an older lady find a necklace to match her shirt. After some searching, we found the perfect one. I was ringing her up and chatting with her, when she said,
"Can I ask, are you expecting?"
She put this weird emphasis on "expecting". Almost like she was saying, "Why the hell aren't you announcing this to the world? Why are you hiding this fact, you modest young thing? Don't you know this is the greatest thing that could ever possibly happen to you in your entire life? You should be shouting it from the hilltops, like Maria Von Trapp."
Needless to say, I was stunned speechless. For once. You could almost hear the needle on the record player being ripped off. I froze.
This is not happening. I am not being mistaken for a pregnant woman. I am not that fat.
I am not.
I am not.
I am not.
FUCK. Am I?
*several blinks on my behalf*
*several blinks on her behalf*
We sat there, blinking at each other, while she grimaced and awkwardly gathered up her things to leave, and I smoothed my shirt down, subconsciously ensuring that no pillow had magically appeared under my top. What. The. Fuck.
Well, of course, you know what happened next: The Voices all woke up and turned their heads in unison to look at this old lady. And then, they all had to get their two cents in.
"Oh, no she di-dant!!!" yelled Bitch Mode, complete with index-finger-waving hand gestures.
"You should ask her if she's senile! That'll shut her up!" said Sarcastic.
"Well, I've been telling you for months that you have to do something about this weight you've been putting on. What do you expect?" sniped Inner Mom Voice.
"Oh my gawd!! You're a COW!!!" shrieks Hormonal. She runs away to sob into her hands. Hormonal is such a drama queen.
"Well, the way you an CN have been acting lately, who knows? Maybe you are!" giggles Pervert.
Horny is in stitches. The two of them make randy hand gestures and proceed to take turns cracking each other up with their obscene double entendres. The peanut gallery is in full swing. Great.
I roll my eyes.
"You really picked out a great necklace for her. Very stylish. I think The Czarina would like it, too. Let's go see if there's another one," observed Space Cadet, who proceeded to wander off.
Good Point chimed in: "Dude, everyone and their mother knows that is something you NEVER ask, unless you are 200% positive the woman is pregnant. And THIS is why that rule exists! She just made a HUGE social faux pas!!"
"Hmmm...I wonder if there are earrings that match....." mused Space Cadet. "You could make a set...."
"What was that??? Pregnant? Who said that? Who said the 'P' word? OMG! We have to get to a drugstore NOW, people!!" said Panic, heartbeat racing.
Good Point calmed Panic down and then added, "Look, I bet she feels worse than you do, running all over town with a big, fat mouth like that. Assuming things about people. She has her foot in her mouth right now. She was embarrassed, you know you could tell."
"But baby-doll tops are IN right now!!!" protested Single Girl.
"Yeah! There's nothing wrong with ruffles and empire waist tops! They're feminine!" agreed Prisspot.
"Yeah, but in the past, tops like that have been reserved strictly for expectant mothers," explained Overly Analytical. "There's a generational gap at play, here. Your fashion taste, while good, is confusing to the elderly."
"Well, if that's the case, there should be Public Service Announcements about this issue," Nerd said. "The public needs to be aware. Maybe we could call our Congressmen..."
"Maybe she just thought you would be a really good mom, and she was hoping you were!" Stupidly Optimistic gushed. "Or maybe she had you confused with the other lady in this department who IS pregnant!"
Sarcastic and Cynical gave her a look. She shut up.
"Oh, this is just great. For the last three months, ever since you started buying those tops, you have been running around town, causing people to think 'Aw, she's having a baby! Isn't that wonderful?' I mean, who knows how many people have thinking that!" lectured Pessimistically Paranoid, pacing in a circle.
Oh Jeez. What if the next time someone made this mistake, they do it in front of CN??? Oh, the mortification!!! I pondered the thought of chucking all my new tops in the trash, as soon as I got home that night. Cheapskate vetoed this idea. Single Girl backed her up, as did Prisspot. Damn. What am I going to do about these shirts? Buy a bunch of belts??
I was jolted out of my thoughts by Pessimistically Paranoid's ranting.
"I mean, if you look pregnant now, what are you going to look like when you really ARE pregnant?" she lamented.
"Babies are nice..." Space Cadet said to herself absentmindedly, as she looked at a rack of earrings.
Bitch Mode and Hormonal were whispering to each other and picking up the phone.
"Hey, what are you doing?" asked Pessimistically Paranoid.
"Duh. We're calling security to tell them that there's an old lady who just stole a necklace here in the store," they replied, snickering.
Cynical snorted. "That'll teach her!" she laughed.
Luckily, Bitch Mode and Hormonal were stopped from carrying out their plan by Logical. Sometimes, I think she's the only adult Voice.
Confident was no where to be found. I learned later that she was busy, lobbying for more gym time and fresh veggies in the fridge. And for once, I think most of the Voices listened to her. Even Hormonal, who tried really hard to cry on the way home, but just couldn't. Fashion choices aside, perhaps this was a wake-up call.
"Gah, you are now officially fat enough to be confused with a pregnant woman!!" cried Hormonal.
"Or maybe it's just because you have huge tits, just like most pregnant women do!" said Pervert.
"Or maybe she's just a rude, ignorant old bag," chimed Good Point.
Good point, indeed. Pass the brownies, will ya?
Monday, April 21, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Not Myself Today
CN and I were watching "Biggest Loser" last night. And he has definitely gotten me hooked on it. The good news is, watching it makes me want to go to the gym and work out to the point of passing out. The trainers are very motivational like that. The bad news is, although everyone on that show weighs more than I do, I feel like a total heifer when I watch it. I think it's because I can relate so much to the contestants' shame and disappointment with themselves and their eating choices. Exercise seems positive to me, whereas calorie restriction feels negative.
Sometime, during the show, I got a visit from the PMS Fairy. Or should I say....Demon.
Earlier in the evening, I tried to give CN a heads up. "Sweetie," I said. "Just so you know, it's my time. And I can tell already that I'm going to be really weepy, because I cried at a TV commercial today. So just keep that in mind for about the next week-- I may be acting kind of weird."
"Ok," he said, slightly shrugging.
Gotta love hindsight.
It should have gone like this:
VB: "For the next week, my brain and body will be taken over by The Evil Psycho Hormone Demon. I advise you to stay in a hotel and make no contact with me until then."
CN: "Right. I'm out." *runs away as fast as he can*
I hate stupid hormones. Because for the next few days, Normal, Happy and Rational VB is abducted and tied to a chair in a basement somewhere. Her mouth is covered with duct tape. She is ignored, threatened and/or abused by The Evil Psycho Hormone Demon, who has managed to not only succeed with a hostile takeover, but is now Supreme Evil Dictator over my mind and body. She will not stop her rampage until everyone who encounters me this week is convinced that I have totally lost my mind.
And this month, she's being extra cruel and obnoxious. She has actually grown black horns, acquired an evil laugh and her eyes are now seeping blood. Imagine the devil from Rosemary's Baby, only in female form. I don't know what the hell I ate this month (I would like to blame all the salad and veggies, of course), but for some reason, the little gland in my body which controls my moods has set the dial all the way to the right, which reads "Bat Shit Crazy". It's that part of the dial where it's in the "red zone". And there is a little warning light which has turned on. It's blinking with a terrifying urgency. I encourage you to lock up your children.
Right now, if you were to glare at me, or even just stare at me, I would probably burst into tears. Then, 45 Kleenex later, after calming down, I would rip your throat out with my bare hands and stomp on your bloody body--while screaming-- until it is mashed into something resembling roadkill. And then I would start crying again.
Needless to say, I am not myself today. It feels eerily similar to what I imagine an out-of-body experience must be like. It's like I'm sitting in the driver's seat, but someone else is driving.
Based on this description, you would stay far, far away from me. And this would be a wise decision.
Unfortunately for CN, he was sitting on the couch, watching TV with me when all of this went down in the Hormones Department.
I'm not going to get into details, but let's just say that Evil Psycho Hormone Demon (EPHD) would not shut up about how fat I feel, which led CN to try and comfort and reassure me in a way that totally backfired right in his face, because no matter what he said or did, EPHD took his words and actions, twisted them into something completely different, and told me that CN was saying this:
"I don't like you anymore and I don't care about you."
You see? Do you see how evil and manipulative she is??? She is evil, I am telling you.
So that is how I went through half a box of Kleenex last night. That is why I had nightmares and woke up at 5:15 this morning. That is also why I just finished writing CN a very long, apologetic and explanatory email about how I am insane until further notice.
This sounds terrible, doesn't it? You are thinking, "Oh man, she needs to do some serious damage control." or, if you are a man, "Women are bat shit crazy."
But you are reading this entirely out of context. Let me explain. You see, as much of a wack job as I am right now, I am still totally golden.
By coincidence, CN recently told me a little bit more about his ex-girlfriend. I will call her Psycho Emily, because that is her name. (Tee hee.) When they were dating, CN had to take a business trip to Vermont for about a month. It was during the winter, and he was really enjoying the snow, so he invited her to come up and hang out one weekend.
They were standing in the kitchen of his hotel suite, talking. She was chopping veggies for dinner on a cutting board. That's when it happened: she proposed. Emily proposed marriage to CN. Because he is wise beyond his years, he thought to himself, "This girl has psycho tendencies. Perhaps getting married is not a good idea right now." But, because he is a man, and therefore, totally ignorant when it comes to female hormones, he made the unfortunate reply of:
"No."
Now, I couldn't possibly be sure about how Psycho Emily's EPHD interpreted his answer, but I bet it went something like this: "I do not care about you and I do not like you. I have been using you for sex this whole time, and you are an idiot if you thought that I ever gave a rat's ass about you. You are fat, ugly, crazy and stupid and I'd rather die poor, sick and alone than spend any more time with you than is absolutely necessary for me to get my rocks off."
Keep in mind that during the delivery of this interpretation, Psycho Emily is wielding a large kitchen knife.
So she did what any woman under the powers of her EPHD would do in that situation: She tried to stab him.
He managed to avoid the attack and get the knife away from her. That's when she ran outside. Into the snow. Barefoot. In nothing but her bra and a pair of jeans.
Where she proceeded to climb a tree and refused to come back down.
Surprisingly, they continued dating for a while after this whole fiasco.
So, my little meltdown last night? Not a big deal. CN has experienced The Mother of All Evil Psycho Hormone Demons, and lived to tell the tale. By now, he is a battle-worn veteran.
"I am a terrible girlfriend! I jumped to conclusions and expected you to read my mind!" I sobbed last night.
"Oh my God, no you're not! You're the best girlfriend I've ever had!" he said.
"I am?" I sniffed, voice quivering.
"Yeah. You don't even pull knives on me." he replied.
Sometime, during the show, I got a visit from the PMS Fairy. Or should I say....Demon.
Earlier in the evening, I tried to give CN a heads up. "Sweetie," I said. "Just so you know, it's my time. And I can tell already that I'm going to be really weepy, because I cried at a TV commercial today. So just keep that in mind for about the next week-- I may be acting kind of weird."
"Ok," he said, slightly shrugging.
Gotta love hindsight.
It should have gone like this:
VB: "For the next week, my brain and body will be taken over by The Evil Psycho Hormone Demon. I advise you to stay in a hotel and make no contact with me until then."
CN: "Right. I'm out." *runs away as fast as he can*
I hate stupid hormones. Because for the next few days, Normal, Happy and Rational VB is abducted and tied to a chair in a basement somewhere. Her mouth is covered with duct tape. She is ignored, threatened and/or abused by The Evil Psycho Hormone Demon, who has managed to not only succeed with a hostile takeover, but is now Supreme Evil Dictator over my mind and body. She will not stop her rampage until everyone who encounters me this week is convinced that I have totally lost my mind.
And this month, she's being extra cruel and obnoxious. She has actually grown black horns, acquired an evil laugh and her eyes are now seeping blood. Imagine the devil from Rosemary's Baby, only in female form. I don't know what the hell I ate this month (I would like to blame all the salad and veggies, of course), but for some reason, the little gland in my body which controls my moods has set the dial all the way to the right, which reads "Bat Shit Crazy". It's that part of the dial where it's in the "red zone". And there is a little warning light which has turned on. It's blinking with a terrifying urgency. I encourage you to lock up your children.
Right now, if you were to glare at me, or even just stare at me, I would probably burst into tears. Then, 45 Kleenex later, after calming down, I would rip your throat out with my bare hands and stomp on your bloody body--while screaming-- until it is mashed into something resembling roadkill. And then I would start crying again.
Needless to say, I am not myself today. It feels eerily similar to what I imagine an out-of-body experience must be like. It's like I'm sitting in the driver's seat, but someone else is driving.
Based on this description, you would stay far, far away from me. And this would be a wise decision.
Unfortunately for CN, he was sitting on the couch, watching TV with me when all of this went down in the Hormones Department.
I'm not going to get into details, but let's just say that Evil Psycho Hormone Demon (EPHD) would not shut up about how fat I feel, which led CN to try and comfort and reassure me in a way that totally backfired right in his face, because no matter what he said or did, EPHD took his words and actions, twisted them into something completely different, and told me that CN was saying this:
"I don't like you anymore and I don't care about you."
You see? Do you see how evil and manipulative she is??? She is evil, I am telling you.
So that is how I went through half a box of Kleenex last night. That is why I had nightmares and woke up at 5:15 this morning. That is also why I just finished writing CN a very long, apologetic and explanatory email about how I am insane until further notice.
This sounds terrible, doesn't it? You are thinking, "Oh man, she needs to do some serious damage control." or, if you are a man, "Women are bat shit crazy."
But you are reading this entirely out of context. Let me explain. You see, as much of a wack job as I am right now, I am still totally golden.
By coincidence, CN recently told me a little bit more about his ex-girlfriend. I will call her Psycho Emily, because that is her name. (Tee hee.) When they were dating, CN had to take a business trip to Vermont for about a month. It was during the winter, and he was really enjoying the snow, so he invited her to come up and hang out one weekend.
They were standing in the kitchen of his hotel suite, talking. She was chopping veggies for dinner on a cutting board. That's when it happened: she proposed. Emily proposed marriage to CN. Because he is wise beyond his years, he thought to himself, "This girl has psycho tendencies. Perhaps getting married is not a good idea right now." But, because he is a man, and therefore, totally ignorant when it comes to female hormones, he made the unfortunate reply of:
"No."
Now, I couldn't possibly be sure about how Psycho Emily's EPHD interpreted his answer, but I bet it went something like this: "I do not care about you and I do not like you. I have been using you for sex this whole time, and you are an idiot if you thought that I ever gave a rat's ass about you. You are fat, ugly, crazy and stupid and I'd rather die poor, sick and alone than spend any more time with you than is absolutely necessary for me to get my rocks off."
Keep in mind that during the delivery of this interpretation, Psycho Emily is wielding a large kitchen knife.
So she did what any woman under the powers of her EPHD would do in that situation: She tried to stab him.
He managed to avoid the attack and get the knife away from her. That's when she ran outside. Into the snow. Barefoot. In nothing but her bra and a pair of jeans.
Where she proceeded to climb a tree and refused to come back down.
Surprisingly, they continued dating for a while after this whole fiasco.
So, my little meltdown last night? Not a big deal. CN has experienced The Mother of All Evil Psycho Hormone Demons, and lived to tell the tale. By now, he is a battle-worn veteran.
"I am a terrible girlfriend! I jumped to conclusions and expected you to read my mind!" I sobbed last night.
"Oh my God, no you're not! You're the best girlfriend I've ever had!" he said.
"I am?" I sniffed, voice quivering.
"Yeah. You don't even pull knives on me." he replied.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Dinner with Time Bombs
If you've been reading my blog for a while, you know my friend (and now, roommate) E is dating a guy I refer to as B. It was B's birthday last week. So a group of us planned to go out to dinner.
Originally, we were going to go to B's favorite place -- The Flying Saucer -- on Friday after everyone got out of work. But on Tuesday, I was informed that it had been changed to Thursday night at Copper River. This change in plans sucked for several reasons:
1. I work on Thursday nights, so I had to find someone to work for me.
2. In order to get to Copper River in time for dinner, ALL of us had to drive in rush hour traffic.
3. Copper River's food sucks, whereas The Saucer's is pretty good.
But I didn't have much say, and one bad night wasn't going to kill me. Plus, E really wanted me to go for moral support. So I worked it out, and drove to meet everyone.
Through 30 minutes of rush hour traffic.
In the rain.
With broken windshield wipers.
Arg.
When I arrived, I was rapidly approaching irritated, to say the least. Who was there?
E&B, obviously.
Also Butter and her man, Country Boy
W & YB (aka Young Balls, her boyf)
Mr. & Mrs. Chemical (oh, the joy)
Two Face (B's little sister)
Me
Hmmm...but where was B's roommate, Rob Thomas? He was supposed to be bringing his new girlfriend. (This is going to be some event, huh?!)
It turns out, the whole reason we even changed all these dinner plans around was because Rob Thomas wanted to, for some scheduling conflict. Because that makes sense: it's not your birthday, and so you feel the need to inconvenience everyone else because of your schedule.
But oopsie! Rob forgot he had a softball game that night, so he wasn't going to be able to make it anyway. He called B to tell him this 15 minutes before dinner started.
Remember, it was raining. So the game was probably canceled. He was more than likely sitting on his couch because someone said he doesn't like to drive across town. WTF???
Ugh. The more I learn about him, the less I like him. What a douche.
Anyway, so we all sit down to dinner. Unfortunately, I sat at the end of the table with Mrs. Chemical and Two Face. Oh boy. Now I know why E wanted me there for moral support. I am the bitch blocker for the evening. So I immediately began to run interference and keep them away from E, at least conversationally. E wisely talked to B for most of dinner.
A little word about Two Face. Apparently, she met me one time a year ago, but I have NO recollection of this. I think her memory is slightly frightening. And while I have no personal reason to call her "Two Face", I have heard nothing but horrible things about her from several people. And these opinions were all offered to me confidentially and independently, by trusted friends of mine. What I've heard, in a nutshell: she's a hypocritical, Bible-beating liar who makes up things to make E look bad in front of B's parents. But to your face, especially if you don't know her, she's the nicest girl you'll ever meet. Wowza. I took a deep breath, smiled, and started with small talk.
Luckily, she and Mrs. Chemical were surprisingly pleasant to me. In fact, if I didn't have pre-conceived notions about both of them, I would have thought I'd made two new friends! I mean, we kinda had a good time....I think....
But in reality, it was more like having dinner with two grenades: I didn't know if/when they were going to explode and whip out their evilness on me. It was fairly stressful, sitting there with a fake smile plastered on my face. I didn't want to ruin B's birthday or cause any problems. Somehow, I made it through without a hint of awkwardness or bitchiness on anyone's part.
"Hmmm," I thought. "Maybe I was wrong about Mrs. Chemical, and she's just one of those people who has to warm up to you. And maybe Two Face is just misunderstood..."
I kept my thoughts to myself until after dinner, when I was alone with W.
"Um, am I crazy, or is Two Face a totally sweet girl?" I asked.
"Oh, no, she's pulled that one on you, huh?" W replied.
"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled.
"She does that around people she's just met. Little Miss Wonderful. Wait until you hang out with her some more. You'll start seeing the real Two Face," she explained.
Great. I can't wait.
"I'm sure. But what was weird was, even Mrs. Chemical was nice to me," I continued.
"Oh, you must not have seen the two of them whispering to each other after dinner. They were being totally snarky," she said.
I had gone to the bathroom after dinner, and must not have noticed. I nodded in understanding.
"Don't you think it's kind of weird that Mrs. Chemical got her hair dyed the same color as mine just a day after seeing my new hair color?" I asked.
"Oh my gawd. She saw you last Saturday, and just said she changed her color last Sunday. She did, didn't she? That's weird," said W.
(After pointing this coincidence out to several friends, one girl dubbed me "Trendsetter", so now I'm totally ok with it. At first I wanted to get in her face and shout, "Stop copying me!!")
Where was I? Oh yes, our less-than-average meals were over.
Everyone went home after dinner, except me, W and YB. The three of us hung out at the bar for a while. A bunch of YB's buddies arrived and we all had a good time. As we were hanging out, I began to notice how many men were there.
"W, this is awesome. It's a total man buffet in here! I mean, I'd heard good things, but now I know! I've just never had the opportunity to come up here at night. And this is just a Thursday! Imagine what a Saturday would be like! And there's all kinds of guys, too. Not just one kind!" I gushed.
"Ooh, yeah, there are a lot of guys in here, aren't there?" she replied. (I was momentarily taken aback at her temporary blindness to all things hunky. We were surrounded by waves of manly goodness!! Must be because of YB's presence. He was impairing her vision.)
I sighed with happiness. "Aah, a new place! I'm glad I wore this low cut top!" I thought. "Ugh, unless that's what Mrs. Chemical and Two Face were whispering about....actually, who gives a crap what they think. No one likes them. And I have great boobs."
Originally, we were going to go to B's favorite place -- The Flying Saucer -- on Friday after everyone got out of work. But on Tuesday, I was informed that it had been changed to Thursday night at Copper River. This change in plans sucked for several reasons:
1. I work on Thursday nights, so I had to find someone to work for me.
2. In order to get to Copper River in time for dinner, ALL of us had to drive in rush hour traffic.
3. Copper River's food sucks, whereas The Saucer's is pretty good.
But I didn't have much say, and one bad night wasn't going to kill me. Plus, E really wanted me to go for moral support. So I worked it out, and drove to meet everyone.
Through 30 minutes of rush hour traffic.
In the rain.
With broken windshield wipers.
Arg.
When I arrived, I was rapidly approaching irritated, to say the least. Who was there?
E&B, obviously.
Also Butter and her man, Country Boy
W & YB (aka Young Balls, her boyf)
Mr. & Mrs. Chemical (oh, the joy)
Two Face (B's little sister)
Me
Hmmm...but where was B's roommate, Rob Thomas? He was supposed to be bringing his new girlfriend. (This is going to be some event, huh?!)
It turns out, the whole reason we even changed all these dinner plans around was because Rob Thomas wanted to, for some scheduling conflict. Because that makes sense: it's not your birthday, and so you feel the need to inconvenience everyone else because of your schedule.
But oopsie! Rob forgot he had a softball game that night, so he wasn't going to be able to make it anyway. He called B to tell him this 15 minutes before dinner started.
Remember, it was raining. So the game was probably canceled. He was more than likely sitting on his couch because someone said he doesn't like to drive across town. WTF???
Ugh. The more I learn about him, the less I like him. What a douche.
Anyway, so we all sit down to dinner. Unfortunately, I sat at the end of the table with Mrs. Chemical and Two Face. Oh boy. Now I know why E wanted me there for moral support. I am the bitch blocker for the evening. So I immediately began to run interference and keep them away from E, at least conversationally. E wisely talked to B for most of dinner.
A little word about Two Face. Apparently, she met me one time a year ago, but I have NO recollection of this. I think her memory is slightly frightening. And while I have no personal reason to call her "Two Face", I have heard nothing but horrible things about her from several people. And these opinions were all offered to me confidentially and independently, by trusted friends of mine. What I've heard, in a nutshell: she's a hypocritical, Bible-beating liar who makes up things to make E look bad in front of B's parents. But to your face, especially if you don't know her, she's the nicest girl you'll ever meet. Wowza. I took a deep breath, smiled, and started with small talk.
Luckily, she and Mrs. Chemical were surprisingly pleasant to me. In fact, if I didn't have pre-conceived notions about both of them, I would have thought I'd made two new friends! I mean, we kinda had a good time....I think....
But in reality, it was more like having dinner with two grenades: I didn't know if/when they were going to explode and whip out their evilness on me. It was fairly stressful, sitting there with a fake smile plastered on my face. I didn't want to ruin B's birthday or cause any problems. Somehow, I made it through without a hint of awkwardness or bitchiness on anyone's part.
"Hmmm," I thought. "Maybe I was wrong about Mrs. Chemical, and she's just one of those people who has to warm up to you. And maybe Two Face is just misunderstood..."
I kept my thoughts to myself until after dinner, when I was alone with W.
"Um, am I crazy, or is Two Face a totally sweet girl?" I asked.
"Oh, no, she's pulled that one on you, huh?" W replied.
"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled.
"She does that around people she's just met. Little Miss Wonderful. Wait until you hang out with her some more. You'll start seeing the real Two Face," she explained.
Great. I can't wait.
"I'm sure. But what was weird was, even Mrs. Chemical was nice to me," I continued.
"Oh, you must not have seen the two of them whispering to each other after dinner. They were being totally snarky," she said.
I had gone to the bathroom after dinner, and must not have noticed. I nodded in understanding.
"Don't you think it's kind of weird that Mrs. Chemical got her hair dyed the same color as mine just a day after seeing my new hair color?" I asked.
"Oh my gawd. She saw you last Saturday, and just said she changed her color last Sunday. She did, didn't she? That's weird," said W.
(After pointing this coincidence out to several friends, one girl dubbed me "Trendsetter", so now I'm totally ok with it. At first I wanted to get in her face and shout, "Stop copying me!!")
Where was I? Oh yes, our less-than-average meals were over.
Everyone went home after dinner, except me, W and YB. The three of us hung out at the bar for a while. A bunch of YB's buddies arrived and we all had a good time. As we were hanging out, I began to notice how many men were there.
"W, this is awesome. It's a total man buffet in here! I mean, I'd heard good things, but now I know! I've just never had the opportunity to come up here at night. And this is just a Thursday! Imagine what a Saturday would be like! And there's all kinds of guys, too. Not just one kind!" I gushed.
"Ooh, yeah, there are a lot of guys in here, aren't there?" she replied. (I was momentarily taken aback at her temporary blindness to all things hunky. We were surrounded by waves of manly goodness!! Must be because of YB's presence. He was impairing her vision.)
I sighed with happiness. "Aah, a new place! I'm glad I wore this low cut top!" I thought. "Ugh, unless that's what Mrs. Chemical and Two Face were whispering about....actually, who gives a crap what they think. No one likes them. And I have great boobs."
Monday, June 11, 2007
Observations
As you can probably tell, my life is still fairly ho-hum. But I can provide you with some interesting observations from the weekend.
Friday night, I met up with KT and got to meet her new boyf. I will call him Scary, because that is pretty much everyone's first impression of this guy. His main hobby is competing in weight lifting contests, and he's bald. He's also about 6'3". Ever go to a bar and you see that one guy, and you look at him and think, "Ok, I am NOT going to piss him off!"? -- that's KT's Scary. He is, for better lack of a better term, massively ripped. So I'm sure you've got an accurate picture in your head now.
I arrived at the Flying Saucer (a popular bar here in town), somehow beating KT there. I noticed there were lots of cuties around, and I think I was getting the eye from a group nearby. WOOT! Five minutes later, she arrived. We chatted for a bit while we waited for Scary to park the car. There were lots of guys in the bar, and I was in the mood to flirt with strangers.
Once Scary arrived, I saw how not only the dynamics of the bar changed, but so did my abilities to catch guys' eyes. Oh, they approached us. They just didn't want to talk to me. (Ok, pick your jaw up. Shocker, I know. How different than usual....riiiiiiight.) They wanted to talk to Scary. Random guys kept approaching him and asking him for workout/diet advice. One guy even walked up to him and said, "So, how does it feel to be the biggest guy in here?" -- understandably, Scary was kind of annoyed by all of this. He just wanted to drink some beer and relax.
This is when I began to wonder: Is Scary unintentionally cock-blocking me? Not that hotties line up in bars to hit on me (ha! I wish!) , but the two guys I saw checking me out when I arrived had disappeared instantly from the moment Scary showed up. This was a relief to Almost Girl, who would have no earthly clue what to do if a cute, normal guy (presumably one who also shared lots of her interests and hobbies, too) actually asked her out on a real date.
So I guess I'm asking all of my normal, presumably non-body-builder male readers: Would you approach a single girl if her friend's boyfriend could beat you to a bloody pulp in an instant? Keep in mind, most of the night we were in a booth and KT and Scary exhibited body language indicating they were dating, and I was across from them, all by myself. Was Scary cock-blocking me?
*Special note to KT, who I know is reading this: I think Scary is a sweet guy, and I am NOT mad about anything. So you can just stop thinking that right now. It's all good in da hood. I'm just making conversation with my readers. Just a thought I had when we were sitting there.*
Now that I have clarified that to KT, I will move on to my next male/female relationship observation.
Yesterday, B & E invited a bunch of people over for a cookout. All the girls were sitting in chairs in the driveway, talking, when B informed us that another couple (I will them Mr. and Mrs. Chemical, since he works with chemicals) would soon be joining us.
E said, "Oh boy. I can't wait. I just love her so much." -- very deadpan.
"Whoa. What's the problem?" W and I asked.
"Did I ever mention Mrs. Chemical to you guys?" she said.
"Mrs. Chemical....." I said, trying to place the name.
E reminded us. Yes, she had mentioned her before. Apparently, one night B & E met up with the Chemicals for dinner. As they were being seated, B muttered something which ticked E off. It wasn't anything major, just an ongoing tiff they had been having. "Oh, B, please. Don't do that now. Please. Just stop," E said. And that was the end of it -- they ended up talking about it after dinner on the way home. No problem, not a big deal.
Mrs. Chemical turns to E and says, "Next time, why don't y'all keep the drama at home, ok?" and went back to reading the menu.
As you can imagine, this didn't sit too well with E, who had just met her that very evening. And since it was just a tiff and they didn't even continue the conversation at the table, E really felt Mrs. Chemical was out of line for saying that. And I have to say, I agree. So E is not what you would call Mrs. Chemical's Biggest Fan.
Butter confirmed that yes, she was a major bitch in general, and this was just one of many incidents she and E had had with Mrs. Chemical since meeting her.
"Oh, man, I don't want to meet her!" I said.
Unfortunately, Mr. Chemical is good friends with B. And now that Mr. Chemical's married, Mrs. Chemical doesn't let him hang out with his buddies anymore. (Oh yes, she's one of those wives.) She thinks that B (and all the other guys) are a bad influence on him because B does like to do admittedly stupid things when he drinks. It's nothing harmful, like drunk driving or fist fights, but more along the lines of stupid tricks which can land you in the Emergency Room. Give a guy horseshoes, darts and large quantities of beer and yes, you will see some stupidity in about 2 hours. That's just how guys are. It's no reason to forbid him from hanging with his buddies.
So it's a big deal that Mr. Chemical can even hang out. He must have been on good behavior, because his wife let him out for a whole 2 1/2 hours to play with his friends.
True to her reputation, W and I are introduced to Mrs. Chemical, and she is most definitely caustic. (Ok, that was a bad joke, I know.) She flopped down into the remaining empty chair, arms crossed over her chest, making little to no eye contact with us and refusing our offers of food and beverage.
It was 6pm and 98 degrees. I know the bitch was thirsty. It is impossible to sit in 98 degree weather in SC and not drink something. Plus, it was dinnertime, and we were grilling out burgers and dogs. Who doesn't want to eat that? Apparently, she was too good for our food, beer and cokes. "Oh whatever, I hope you shrivel up and die, anyway," I remember thinking to myself.
Getting her to talk was even worse. We received one-word answers, negative statements and no inquiries in return. It was like pulling teeth, really. I had to bite my tongue from just opening my big, fat mouth and shouting, "WTF is your problem, anyway? If you don't want to be here, then why didn't you just stay home?" I think that if I ever have to be around her again, I might just actually say that to her....it's a good thing I don't drink, because I seriously would have probably said that if I'd had some beer in my system! It soon dawned on me that she was only there so she could "babysit" her husband and make sure he didn't do anything "wrong".
At one point, W and I were in the kitchen alone, and she said, "Wow, isn't she charming?" to which I replied, "Oh, she's just a peach." We tried to figure out what her problem was while we picked at the cookies and brownies, but we gave up and went back outside.
Meanwhile, her husband, Mr. Chemical? Super sweet guy. Very normal and friendly. He seemed really excited to be there, and enjoyed all the food and beer he could handle. We talked about our careers and dogs (they have a Weimaraner) -- and the more I talked to him, the more I was confused as to how on earth he could be married to such a frigid bitch. She barked orders at him, announced when it was time to leave, was rude to his friends.....Seriously, it made no sense at all that they would even date, let alone marry. Perhaps it's because they were high school sweethearts and he just doesn't know any better? Perhaps he's sticking around, in the hopes that one day, she will give him his balls back? You can't tell me the sex is good. I would never buy that.
All I know is, while I don't approve of cheating, I could kinda understand if he did cheat on her one day.....I mean, imagine what she must be like at home, behind closed doors! Imagine having to live the rest of your life with someone like that. Some women believe in nagging and yelling at their men, thinking they know what's best for them. (I'm not talking about normal nagging, PMS or bad moods, I'm talking about the women who are ALWAYS on their man's case, 24/7, to the point where their friends constantly tease them about it. The women who make their guy feel like he can never do anything right.) And I see these women get results (ie, boyfriends, husbands, "well-trained" men, etc.). But I could just never get serious with someone for whom I have so little respect. I do not understand this behavior in women. And I do not understand the men who never tell these women to f--k off. I feel sorry for the men, but at the same time, it's their own fault for never sticking up for themselves. The whole thing just baffles me.
And to be perfectly honest, I don't want to be with someone who requires that much effort on my part! Am I nuts? Or just lazy? LOL
Observing her behavior, one thought kept running through my head, over and over: How are you married to a super nice guy, and I can't get a date? What is wrong with the Universe?
Do you know couples like this? What do you think? Can you explain this behavior? Because I don't get it! Guys, have you ever dated girls like this? If so, what happened? How did it get like that? What made you end it? Or marry her?
Friday night, I met up with KT and got to meet her new boyf. I will call him Scary, because that is pretty much everyone's first impression of this guy. His main hobby is competing in weight lifting contests, and he's bald. He's also about 6'3". Ever go to a bar and you see that one guy, and you look at him and think, "Ok, I am NOT going to piss him off!"? -- that's KT's Scary. He is, for better lack of a better term, massively ripped. So I'm sure you've got an accurate picture in your head now.
I arrived at the Flying Saucer (a popular bar here in town), somehow beating KT there. I noticed there were lots of cuties around, and I think I was getting the eye from a group nearby. WOOT! Five minutes later, she arrived. We chatted for a bit while we waited for Scary to park the car. There were lots of guys in the bar, and I was in the mood to flirt with strangers.
Once Scary arrived, I saw how not only the dynamics of the bar changed, but so did my abilities to catch guys' eyes. Oh, they approached us. They just didn't want to talk to me. (Ok, pick your jaw up. Shocker, I know. How different than usual....riiiiiiight.) They wanted to talk to Scary. Random guys kept approaching him and asking him for workout/diet advice. One guy even walked up to him and said, "So, how does it feel to be the biggest guy in here?" -- understandably, Scary was kind of annoyed by all of this. He just wanted to drink some beer and relax.
This is when I began to wonder: Is Scary unintentionally cock-blocking me? Not that hotties line up in bars to hit on me (ha! I wish!) , but the two guys I saw checking me out when I arrived had disappeared instantly from the moment Scary showed up. This was a relief to Almost Girl, who would have no earthly clue what to do if a cute, normal guy (presumably one who also shared lots of her interests and hobbies, too) actually asked her out on a real date.
So I guess I'm asking all of my normal, presumably non-body-builder male readers: Would you approach a single girl if her friend's boyfriend could beat you to a bloody pulp in an instant? Keep in mind, most of the night we were in a booth and KT and Scary exhibited body language indicating they were dating, and I was across from them, all by myself. Was Scary cock-blocking me?
*Special note to KT, who I know is reading this: I think Scary is a sweet guy, and I am NOT mad about anything. So you can just stop thinking that right now. It's all good in da hood. I'm just making conversation with my readers. Just a thought I had when we were sitting there.*
Now that I have clarified that to KT, I will move on to my next male/female relationship observation.
Yesterday, B & E invited a bunch of people over for a cookout. All the girls were sitting in chairs in the driveway, talking, when B informed us that another couple (I will them Mr. and Mrs. Chemical, since he works with chemicals) would soon be joining us.
E said, "Oh boy. I can't wait. I just love her so much." -- very deadpan.
"Whoa. What's the problem?" W and I asked.
"Did I ever mention Mrs. Chemical to you guys?" she said.
"Mrs. Chemical....." I said, trying to place the name.
E reminded us. Yes, she had mentioned her before. Apparently, one night B & E met up with the Chemicals for dinner. As they were being seated, B muttered something which ticked E off. It wasn't anything major, just an ongoing tiff they had been having. "Oh, B, please. Don't do that now. Please. Just stop," E said. And that was the end of it -- they ended up talking about it after dinner on the way home. No problem, not a big deal.
Mrs. Chemical turns to E and says, "Next time, why don't y'all keep the drama at home, ok?" and went back to reading the menu.
As you can imagine, this didn't sit too well with E, who had just met her that very evening. And since it was just a tiff and they didn't even continue the conversation at the table, E really felt Mrs. Chemical was out of line for saying that. And I have to say, I agree. So E is not what you would call Mrs. Chemical's Biggest Fan.
Butter confirmed that yes, she was a major bitch in general, and this was just one of many incidents she and E had had with Mrs. Chemical since meeting her.
"Oh, man, I don't want to meet her!" I said.
Unfortunately, Mr. Chemical is good friends with B. And now that Mr. Chemical's married, Mrs. Chemical doesn't let him hang out with his buddies anymore. (Oh yes, she's one of those wives.) She thinks that B (and all the other guys) are a bad influence on him because B does like to do admittedly stupid things when he drinks. It's nothing harmful, like drunk driving or fist fights, but more along the lines of stupid tricks which can land you in the Emergency Room. Give a guy horseshoes, darts and large quantities of beer and yes, you will see some stupidity in about 2 hours. That's just how guys are. It's no reason to forbid him from hanging with his buddies.
So it's a big deal that Mr. Chemical can even hang out. He must have been on good behavior, because his wife let him out for a whole 2 1/2 hours to play with his friends.
True to her reputation, W and I are introduced to Mrs. Chemical, and she is most definitely caustic. (Ok, that was a bad joke, I know.) She flopped down into the remaining empty chair, arms crossed over her chest, making little to no eye contact with us and refusing our offers of food and beverage.
It was 6pm and 98 degrees. I know the bitch was thirsty. It is impossible to sit in 98 degree weather in SC and not drink something. Plus, it was dinnertime, and we were grilling out burgers and dogs. Who doesn't want to eat that? Apparently, she was too good for our food, beer and cokes. "Oh whatever, I hope you shrivel up and die, anyway," I remember thinking to myself.
Getting her to talk was even worse. We received one-word answers, negative statements and no inquiries in return. It was like pulling teeth, really. I had to bite my tongue from just opening my big, fat mouth and shouting, "WTF is your problem, anyway? If you don't want to be here, then why didn't you just stay home?" I think that if I ever have to be around her again, I might just actually say that to her....it's a good thing I don't drink, because I seriously would have probably said that if I'd had some beer in my system! It soon dawned on me that she was only there so she could "babysit" her husband and make sure he didn't do anything "wrong".
At one point, W and I were in the kitchen alone, and she said, "Wow, isn't she charming?" to which I replied, "Oh, she's just a peach." We tried to figure out what her problem was while we picked at the cookies and brownies, but we gave up and went back outside.
Meanwhile, her husband, Mr. Chemical? Super sweet guy. Very normal and friendly. He seemed really excited to be there, and enjoyed all the food and beer he could handle. We talked about our careers and dogs (they have a Weimaraner) -- and the more I talked to him, the more I was confused as to how on earth he could be married to such a frigid bitch. She barked orders at him, announced when it was time to leave, was rude to his friends.....Seriously, it made no sense at all that they would even date, let alone marry. Perhaps it's because they were high school sweethearts and he just doesn't know any better? Perhaps he's sticking around, in the hopes that one day, she will give him his balls back? You can't tell me the sex is good. I would never buy that.
All I know is, while I don't approve of cheating, I could kinda understand if he did cheat on her one day.....I mean, imagine what she must be like at home, behind closed doors! Imagine having to live the rest of your life with someone like that. Some women believe in nagging and yelling at their men, thinking they know what's best for them. (I'm not talking about normal nagging, PMS or bad moods, I'm talking about the women who are ALWAYS on their man's case, 24/7, to the point where their friends constantly tease them about it. The women who make their guy feel like he can never do anything right.) And I see these women get results (ie, boyfriends, husbands, "well-trained" men, etc.). But I could just never get serious with someone for whom I have so little respect. I do not understand this behavior in women. And I do not understand the men who never tell these women to f--k off. I feel sorry for the men, but at the same time, it's their own fault for never sticking up for themselves. The whole thing just baffles me.
And to be perfectly honest, I don't want to be with someone who requires that much effort on my part! Am I nuts? Or just lazy? LOL
Observing her behavior, one thought kept running through my head, over and over: How are you married to a super nice guy, and I can't get a date? What is wrong with the Universe?
Do you know couples like this? What do you think? Can you explain this behavior? Because I don't get it! Guys, have you ever dated girls like this? If so, what happened? How did it get like that? What made you end it? Or marry her?
Thursday, April 05, 2007
I Can't Compete with Wednesday Skank!
Last night, I was about to leave to go run some errands. It was 7:30. Just as I'm walking towards my front door, I shout, "K!!! Come here!!! Hurry!!!"
She runs over to me. We peer out the window.
That's when I saw her.
She was thin and very glamorously dressed -- flowered sundress, heels, delicate jewelry, movie star sunglasses -- she was smiling and she was tan. And thin. Her voluminous dark hair was doing everything my limp blond hair will never do. Despite the gigantic sunglasses, I could tell she was very pretty. Did I mention she is thin?
Worst of all, she was on a date with Hot Neighbor. I could feel tears of disappointment welling up in my eyes.
Ok, maybe not tears, but I was definitely whining.
They were walking to his car. His car, that was evidently parked behind her car: a brand new, shiny blue convertible sports car. She stopped to help him put his watch on.
HOW DO I COMPETE WITH THIS???
I am so S.O.L., y'all. I told you he's not that into me. I knew it. If he really was, he would have asked me out when he had the chance.
Anyway, they walked to his car, and he opened the door for her. Keep in mind she is grinning from ear to ear the entire time. She was obviously very glad to be on this date. I can't say I blame her. Then he got in and they drove away.
I was crushed.
"It's a Wednesday date, VB," K offered. "You know that's not a big deal. It's only Wednesday."
"Yeah...I know...but he's got his kids this weekend, so he can't go on dates this weekend," I mumbled.
"And he wasn't very dressed up -- a tshirt and khakis? The date obviously means more to her than it does to him," she continued.
"Ok, good point," I whimpered. "But that could have been me! I can't believe he didn't just ask me out!"
"I know! Just because he's out with her doesn't mean he doesn't want to ask you out! He's only out with her because you were going out of town and stuff -- he felt rejected, so he moved on to girl #2. For all you know, you could be #1," she offered.
"I don't feel like #1...." I grumbled.
So once the happy couple pulled away, I got in my car and ran my errands. I began to feel kind of silly, because here I am, I just had a wonderful weekend with another guy, and I'm upset that HN is on a date. It is kind of a double standard, I know. But you see, in my head, HN is supposed to be in lurve with me, and he's supposed to be trying to woo me away from my other suitors. And he will go out with skanks only for the purpose of making me jealous. I mean, that's how it goes, right?
Hollywood has ruined love for American women. That shit only happens on big screens. *sigh*
Stupid overactive imagination....
Where was I? Oh yeah. So, I did notice one important detail. This woman (who I will dub "The Wednesday Skank") is not 2nd wife material. I am. Think about it.
She drives a 2-seater convertible. Not exactly child seat friendly. Where is she going to put the other two kids? In the trunk? Not exactly someone who appears to be open to the concept of having kids in her life anytime soon. People who drive convertibles are usually looking for attention (I am not saying this is a bad thing, because I myself would love a convertible). The new car tags are still on it, so this is a very recent purchase on her part. So this chick is wanting to drive around town, honking and waving at guys. Yeah, she's ready to settle down.
I, on the other hand, drive a large sedan which is equipped for OnStar service. Granted, it's not the most reliable vehicle on the road, but it does have lots of airbags. And I am not going to be distracted by cute boys who want to look at my shiny car if I'm hauling his kids around. Plus, I live next door and I'm a librarian. How much more convenient and reliable can you get?
Also, my rear window has stickers on it. I like people who have car stickers. It shows personality and/or an opinionated mind. Miss Fancy Pants Wednesday Skank didn't have any stickers, not even on her plastic convertible window. She's probably boring.
She seemed high maintenance to me. Like the kind of girl who would flip if she broke a nail or messed up her hair. Like she would be a bitch if the plans got messed up. I can tell she's got expensive taste. I, on the other hand, am all about some TJ Maxx. For a divorced father of three, who is paying child support out the wazoo, I'm sure this is very welcome, and a much better fit for his lifestyle. I don't have Dooney & Bourkes that will be ruined if his little girl decides to decorate it with her Crayola markers. All my purses cost about $15. No biggie.
I also think the disparity between their outfits showed a distinct lack of communication between them. He looked like he was going for wings and beer, she looked like it was Fancy Restaurant Time. So I already see problems in their relationship.
As far as I know, she has no children or pets. (Just go with me here, people, ok?) On the other hand, I have not one, but two dogs. And what do people always say about pet owners who don't have children? Their pets are substitutes. So see? I am experienced in caring for small animals. That's only one step away from caring for small children. I'm already warmed up for it. And we all know that pet owners are healthier, less stressed and more nurturing than non-owners.
As far as I know, she doesn't have experience with a mixed family. I, on the other hand, do. My dad had 2 kids when he met The Czarina. I saw the challenges and joys firsthand. I know what to expect in a situation like that. My mind is already primed and ready for it.
Did I mention she doesn't look like the kind of girl who knows her way around the kitchen?
*sigh* Ok, I feel better now. I had to have my little snarky moment there. We've all done it, right girls?
In reality, I'm sure she's a very nice girl. Maybe I can't compete with that. HN deserves to have a great girl. She is pretty and obviously successful at whatever she does. She seems like a nice person to spend an evening with. And possibly a lot of fun, because they went inside his house when they came back. As of 11:15, when I went to bed, they were still inside his house. No lights on. Not that I was looking when I was walking my dogs or anything....not that I was up late, hoping to see her leave....
I don't know if she spent the night. But she was inside his house after dark, with the lights off.
I can't compete with that.
I'm just going to have to kill her.
Ok, just kidding. But if I would never get caught....
More than anything, though, this has lighted a fire under my ass. I'm wondering if I was his first choice, or if he did that to make me jealous? If so, it worked. I'm on a mission, people. That dumb bitch won't even know what happened.
This weekend, I'm going to pull the ol' "Oh, gosh, I made all this lasagna, and I just can't eat it all! Would you like some? I know you've got the kids this weekend, so I figured you could put it to good use" stunt. I'm going to drag out that question from him, too.
This monkey business has gone on long enough. Stand back, people. I've got some wooing to do.
She runs over to me. We peer out the window.
That's when I saw her.
She was thin and very glamorously dressed -- flowered sundress, heels, delicate jewelry, movie star sunglasses -- she was smiling and she was tan. And thin. Her voluminous dark hair was doing everything my limp blond hair will never do. Despite the gigantic sunglasses, I could tell she was very pretty. Did I mention she is thin?
Worst of all, she was on a date with Hot Neighbor. I could feel tears of disappointment welling up in my eyes.
Ok, maybe not tears, but I was definitely whining.
They were walking to his car. His car, that was evidently parked behind her car: a brand new, shiny blue convertible sports car. She stopped to help him put his watch on.
HOW DO I COMPETE WITH THIS???
I am so S.O.L., y'all. I told you he's not that into me. I knew it. If he really was, he would have asked me out when he had the chance.
Anyway, they walked to his car, and he opened the door for her. Keep in mind she is grinning from ear to ear the entire time. She was obviously very glad to be on this date. I can't say I blame her. Then he got in and they drove away.
I was crushed.
"It's a Wednesday date, VB," K offered. "You know that's not a big deal. It's only Wednesday."
"Yeah...I know...but he's got his kids this weekend, so he can't go on dates this weekend," I mumbled.
"And he wasn't very dressed up -- a tshirt and khakis? The date obviously means more to her than it does to him," she continued.
"Ok, good point," I whimpered. "But that could have been me! I can't believe he didn't just ask me out!"
"I know! Just because he's out with her doesn't mean he doesn't want to ask you out! He's only out with her because you were going out of town and stuff -- he felt rejected, so he moved on to girl #2. For all you know, you could be #1," she offered.
"I don't feel like #1...." I grumbled.
So once the happy couple pulled away, I got in my car and ran my errands. I began to feel kind of silly, because here I am, I just had a wonderful weekend with another guy, and I'm upset that HN is on a date. It is kind of a double standard, I know. But you see, in my head, HN is supposed to be in lurve with me, and he's supposed to be trying to woo me away from my other suitors. And he will go out with skanks only for the purpose of making me jealous. I mean, that's how it goes, right?
Hollywood has ruined love for American women. That shit only happens on big screens. *sigh*
Stupid overactive imagination....
Where was I? Oh yeah. So, I did notice one important detail. This woman (who I will dub "The Wednesday Skank") is not 2nd wife material. I am. Think about it.
She drives a 2-seater convertible. Not exactly child seat friendly. Where is she going to put the other two kids? In the trunk? Not exactly someone who appears to be open to the concept of having kids in her life anytime soon. People who drive convertibles are usually looking for attention (I am not saying this is a bad thing, because I myself would love a convertible). The new car tags are still on it, so this is a very recent purchase on her part. So this chick is wanting to drive around town, honking and waving at guys. Yeah, she's ready to settle down.
I, on the other hand, drive a large sedan which is equipped for OnStar service. Granted, it's not the most reliable vehicle on the road, but it does have lots of airbags. And I am not going to be distracted by cute boys who want to look at my shiny car if I'm hauling his kids around. Plus, I live next door and I'm a librarian. How much more convenient and reliable can you get?
Also, my rear window has stickers on it. I like people who have car stickers. It shows personality and/or an opinionated mind. Miss Fancy Pants Wednesday Skank didn't have any stickers, not even on her plastic convertible window. She's probably boring.
She seemed high maintenance to me. Like the kind of girl who would flip if she broke a nail or messed up her hair. Like she would be a bitch if the plans got messed up. I can tell she's got expensive taste. I, on the other hand, am all about some TJ Maxx. For a divorced father of three, who is paying child support out the wazoo, I'm sure this is very welcome, and a much better fit for his lifestyle. I don't have Dooney & Bourkes that will be ruined if his little girl decides to decorate it with her Crayola markers. All my purses cost about $15. No biggie.
I also think the disparity between their outfits showed a distinct lack of communication between them. He looked like he was going for wings and beer, she looked like it was Fancy Restaurant Time. So I already see problems in their relationship.
As far as I know, she has no children or pets. (Just go with me here, people, ok?) On the other hand, I have not one, but two dogs. And what do people always say about pet owners who don't have children? Their pets are substitutes. So see? I am experienced in caring for small animals. That's only one step away from caring for small children. I'm already warmed up for it. And we all know that pet owners are healthier, less stressed and more nurturing than non-owners.
As far as I know, she doesn't have experience with a mixed family. I, on the other hand, do. My dad had 2 kids when he met The Czarina. I saw the challenges and joys firsthand. I know what to expect in a situation like that. My mind is already primed and ready for it.
Did I mention she doesn't look like the kind of girl who knows her way around the kitchen?
*sigh* Ok, I feel better now. I had to have my little snarky moment there. We've all done it, right girls?
In reality, I'm sure she's a very nice girl. Maybe I can't compete with that. HN deserves to have a great girl. She is pretty and obviously successful at whatever she does. She seems like a nice person to spend an evening with. And possibly a lot of fun, because they went inside his house when they came back. As of 11:15, when I went to bed, they were still inside his house. No lights on. Not that I was looking when I was walking my dogs or anything....not that I was up late, hoping to see her leave....
I don't know if she spent the night. But she was inside his house after dark, with the lights off.
I can't compete with that.
I'm just going to have to kill her.
Ok, just kidding. But if I would never get caught....
More than anything, though, this has lighted a fire under my ass. I'm wondering if I was his first choice, or if he did that to make me jealous? If so, it worked. I'm on a mission, people. That dumb bitch won't even know what happened.
This weekend, I'm going to pull the ol' "Oh, gosh, I made all this lasagna, and I just can't eat it all! Would you like some? I know you've got the kids this weekend, so I figured you could put it to good use" stunt. I'm going to drag out that question from him, too.
This monkey business has gone on long enough. Stand back, people. I've got some wooing to do.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Frustration Central, How May I Help You?
So I've been working on my Big Secret Project. And it's getting pretty frustrating. There is a lot of paperwork, studying and reading of very detailed instructions involved, not to mention errands to run and money to spend--when it's all done and overwith, I'm looking at $300 smackers. I thought I'd be all set to submit everything after a week, but it will be three weeks before I can really get the ball rolling. There's a lot of red tape and stupid protocol.
For example. I have to get this one form filled out. It has to be done by a police officer. So I go to the local police station. "Oh, we don't do that here," the receptionist said, "You'll have to go aaaaaaaaaall the way to the county seat, about 30 minutes from here, to do that."
Keep in mind it takes all of 5 minutes for a cop to help me with this. Grr.
So I drive over there. "Oh yeah. We do that," the Lady Cop said. I smiled. "We do it between 9-11am and 2-4pm." It was noon. "Ok, I guess I'll just have to come back next week," I said through my clenched teeth.
I went back to my car, got in, screamed at the top of my lungs to blow off some steam, and drove home.
More frustration: I needed to make a doctor's appointment (just a check-up, very routine). I called his office SIX times this morning. I had to be transferred to the Appointments extension each time (I'm sure they thought I was bonkers!), only to be put on hold for 20 seconds, listen to "your call is important to us, please stay on the line"--and then the voicemail would come on.
Grrrrrr.
Finally, after leaving 2 messages, they called me back and I got my appointment. 6 weeks from now. More grrrr....
I am waiting for a colleague at work to email me back about something that is relatively important. It's been almost a week, no reply. This is also bugging me--I mean, send a courtesy email or something! I guess I will have to play stalker and call her...
Speaking of stalkers (and by that, I am referring to myself, obviously)...
There is a new skank. She came over to Hot Neighbor's last night. She got there at about 10pm and was still there when I went to sleep at 12:15. Let me sum up to you the evidence collected during my stakeout at my kitchen window last night:
(Ok, I didn't stand at the window the whole time. I would just check every 5 minutes to see if her car was still there.)
(Ok, I am lying. I checked every 2 minutes.)
Ahem. Evidence:
1. This was not the Original Skank, who shall henceforth be referred to as "Skank 1" or "S1" for short.
2. I know this because she is younger and drives a different car. Also, her hair is curly and long, whereas S1's hair is straight and short.
3. I just realized both these women have very dark hair. This does not bode well for me...
4. S2 was not carrying a purse. At what times would you not need your purse, ladies? I cannot think of a time....the gym maybe. But she was not dressed in gym clothes. This puzzles me.
5. She was wearing yucky jeans and this sort of sweatshirt looking top. Her hair was in a slightly messy ponytail. In short, she didn't look like she was expecting anything. I know that if I were going to a guy's house, hoping for something to happen, I'd get "casual cute"--you know, I'd look good without looking like I tried. She just looked...ick. But a nice ick. Not like she smelled or anything.
6. She was talking on her cell phone as she walked to front door. She stood in his yard for a couple of minutes (I think. Not that I was staring at her.) Her body language indicated that she felt comfortable being there. Relaxed pacing, laughing on the phone....that kind of thing.
7. No kids were seen at all yesterday. So I don't think this was a babysitter or anything like that.
8. Here is the part that concerns me: All his blinds were closed. He's NEVER done that before. His blinds are always open. (Duh, of course I'm positive. I am his stalker!)
9. I was hoping that when I went outside to walk Sammy (he really did need to go, I'm not making this up!), that her car might have a sticker or some other identifying mark on it which would tell me more about its owner. It didn't have anything. Nada. (Which, IMHO, can often be a sign of a lack of personality.) Then I remembered my whole license plate theory and looked at her license plate. The letters were: BPI. "Uh-huh. Just as I suspected," I thought. "Big Prostitutes, Inc."
10. Did I mention that she was there AT LEAST until 12:15 in the morning?? If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, I'm gonna have to go ahead with "They Aren't Having Bible Study in There" for $200, Bob!
Readers, I need your theories, interpretations and insights. Please tell me he's just getting all his rebound flings out of the way!!!
I don't understand. I thought I was clear that I liked him. I thought he might be possibly interested in me. Kinda. Maybe. He DID come to my house 3 times this week, looking for me. I know he's not a mind reader, but it's not like he doesn't know how to get a hold of me! He obviously didn't have a problem inviting S2 over last night. I mean, sheesh, if he wanted company, I am like 20 feet away. I am bummed, y'all. I probably should have put myself out there a little bit more. Flirted a little more, implied that I too am alone a lot, that I like to cook, that I make good coffee...something!!! But you see, I thought that if he saw that the cake I left for him was chocolate, then he would do the math and put two and two together. Like this:
Woman willingly sacrificing chocolate + she is single and in my dating age group = SHE WANTS ME.
I'm no math whiz, but this seems pretty obvious to me.
Kind of like this one:
She is very friendly + she lives practically next door + we are both single = I should ask her out.
See, if this was like high school algebra, I would have majored in mathematics in college. Because I'm all over this shit:
She was not put off by kids + or the divorce + she has nice boobs = She has "LTR" written all over her.
She is alone + I am alone + we are separated by one yard = Wait, why aren't we boning?
S1 + S2 = Why am I fooling with them when I can just go ask VB out?
These are all theories I can commit to memory very easily. Not to mention, put them to practice. Well, they seem easy to me, anyway.
Enough foolishness. I'm bummed out about S2 and my Project frustrations. I'm going out with MJ tonight for some Discussion, Analyzation and Prediction (aka a DAP talk, as I like to call them). This, combined with another personal life man-related issue which I won't get into here, requires a DAP, ASAP.
For example. I have to get this one form filled out. It has to be done by a police officer. So I go to the local police station. "Oh, we don't do that here," the receptionist said, "You'll have to go aaaaaaaaaall the way to the county seat, about 30 minutes from here, to do that."
Keep in mind it takes all of 5 minutes for a cop to help me with this. Grr.
So I drive over there. "Oh yeah. We do that," the Lady Cop said. I smiled. "We do it between 9-11am and 2-4pm." It was noon. "Ok, I guess I'll just have to come back next week," I said through my clenched teeth.
I went back to my car, got in, screamed at the top of my lungs to blow off some steam, and drove home.
More frustration: I needed to make a doctor's appointment (just a check-up, very routine). I called his office SIX times this morning. I had to be transferred to the Appointments extension each time (I'm sure they thought I was bonkers!), only to be put on hold for 20 seconds, listen to "your call is important to us, please stay on the line"--and then the voicemail would come on.
Grrrrrr.
Finally, after leaving 2 messages, they called me back and I got my appointment. 6 weeks from now. More grrrr....
I am waiting for a colleague at work to email me back about something that is relatively important. It's been almost a week, no reply. This is also bugging me--I mean, send a courtesy email or something! I guess I will have to play stalker and call her...
Speaking of stalkers (and by that, I am referring to myself, obviously)...
There is a new skank. She came over to Hot Neighbor's last night. She got there at about 10pm and was still there when I went to sleep at 12:15. Let me sum up to you the evidence collected during my stakeout at my kitchen window last night:
(Ok, I didn't stand at the window the whole time. I would just check every 5 minutes to see if her car was still there.)
(Ok, I am lying. I checked every 2 minutes.)
Ahem. Evidence:
1. This was not the Original Skank, who shall henceforth be referred to as "Skank 1" or "S1" for short.
2. I know this because she is younger and drives a different car. Also, her hair is curly and long, whereas S1's hair is straight and short.
3. I just realized both these women have very dark hair. This does not bode well for me...
4. S2 was not carrying a purse. At what times would you not need your purse, ladies? I cannot think of a time....the gym maybe. But she was not dressed in gym clothes. This puzzles me.
5. She was wearing yucky jeans and this sort of sweatshirt looking top. Her hair was in a slightly messy ponytail. In short, she didn't look like she was expecting anything. I know that if I were going to a guy's house, hoping for something to happen, I'd get "casual cute"--you know, I'd look good without looking like I tried. She just looked...ick. But a nice ick. Not like she smelled or anything.
6. She was talking on her cell phone as she walked to front door. She stood in his yard for a couple of minutes (I think. Not that I was staring at her.) Her body language indicated that she felt comfortable being there. Relaxed pacing, laughing on the phone....that kind of thing.
7. No kids were seen at all yesterday. So I don't think this was a babysitter or anything like that.
8. Here is the part that concerns me: All his blinds were closed. He's NEVER done that before. His blinds are always open. (Duh, of course I'm positive. I am his stalker!)
9. I was hoping that when I went outside to walk Sammy (he really did need to go, I'm not making this up!), that her car might have a sticker or some other identifying mark on it which would tell me more about its owner. It didn't have anything. Nada. (Which, IMHO, can often be a sign of a lack of personality.) Then I remembered my whole license plate theory and looked at her license plate. The letters were: BPI. "Uh-huh. Just as I suspected," I thought. "Big Prostitutes, Inc."
10. Did I mention that she was there AT LEAST until 12:15 in the morning?? If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, I'm gonna have to go ahead with "They Aren't Having Bible Study in There" for $200, Bob!
Readers, I need your theories, interpretations and insights. Please tell me he's just getting all his rebound flings out of the way!!!
I don't understand. I thought I was clear that I liked him. I thought he might be possibly interested in me. Kinda. Maybe. He DID come to my house 3 times this week, looking for me. I know he's not a mind reader, but it's not like he doesn't know how to get a hold of me! He obviously didn't have a problem inviting S2 over last night. I mean, sheesh, if he wanted company, I am like 20 feet away. I am bummed, y'all. I probably should have put myself out there a little bit more. Flirted a little more, implied that I too am alone a lot, that I like to cook, that I make good coffee...something!!! But you see, I thought that if he saw that the cake I left for him was chocolate, then he would do the math and put two and two together. Like this:
Woman willingly sacrificing chocolate + she is single and in my dating age group = SHE WANTS ME.
I'm no math whiz, but this seems pretty obvious to me.
Kind of like this one:
She is very friendly + she lives practically next door + we are both single = I should ask her out.
See, if this was like high school algebra, I would have majored in mathematics in college. Because I'm all over this shit:
She was not put off by kids + or the divorce + she has nice boobs = She has "LTR" written all over her.
She is alone + I am alone + we are separated by one yard = Wait, why aren't we boning?
S1 + S2 = Why am I fooling with them when I can just go ask VB out?
These are all theories I can commit to memory very easily. Not to mention, put them to practice. Well, they seem easy to me, anyway.
Enough foolishness. I'm bummed out about S2 and my Project frustrations. I'm going out with MJ tonight for some Discussion, Analyzation and Prediction (aka a DAP talk, as I like to call them). This, combined with another personal life man-related issue which I won't get into here, requires a DAP, ASAP.
Monday, June 05, 2006
The Weekend That Friendship Forgot
I had a wonderful Girls Night on Friday. I met up with T & L (The Teachers). They were the first friends I made when I moved to Columbia. We don't see a lot of each other because they live on the other side of town and they have hubbies and babies. But I'm crazy about them.
I brought my roommate K with me. The four of us were going to eat dinner and then go see The Break-Up. If you have been planning to see this movie and like happy endings, I would recommend that you save your money. It is basically a movie about a couple fighting. To quote Roper, "It's like being on the double date from hell." All they do is fight, and it is depressing and a real bummer. It will just remind you of all your past breakups.
But I digress.
So K and I meet up with everyone. Well, I had forgotten that L has recently grown a second half, much like the School Nurse in South Park. No, I am not referring to her super sweet husband. And no, she's not pregnant. But she does, indeed, have a second half. It's her neighbor, The Frigid Snoot. Frigid Snoot is permanently velcroed to L's hip. About a year and a half ago, Frigid Snoot became friends with L. What began as just another friendship between two adult women has turned into the biggest, most obsessive Girl Crush I've ever seen. They even refer to each other as "my wife". Normally, I would not even notice this as I'm not a jealous friend. (My friend philosophy is The More the Merrier).
But Frigid Snoot is really mean and rude to L's other friends. And we've all noticed it independently. Then we compare notes in the ladies' room. (Even K, who was meeting all of these girls for the first time picked up on Frigid's attitude, without any heads up from me.) Frigid Snoot ignores us until she is forced to talk to us and even then she won't make eye contact or participate much in the conversation. She only talks to L. She has never said anything nice to me or T. Frigid Snoot thinks her s--t don't stink and tries to dominate all of L's time. She seems to resent the fact that L has lots of friends outside of her. For some reason, L is oblivious to all of this.
This is why T and I hadn't seen L in almost a year. And I for one, am sick of it. And apparently so is T because she seems really apathetic about remaining friends with L.
Ok, so back to the story. I had only met Frigid Snoot once before, about a year ago. So I remembered her name and recognized her face, but couldn't remember why I didn't like her. Then, when she opened her mouth, I remembered why.
I asked her where she worked, and it turns out she is an assistant to Dr. Nazi. So I half-jokingly quipped, "Oh! Your boss is Dr. Nazi! I hate your boss!"
Yes, I realize this would put some people on the defensive. But I didn't mean any harm. I figured everyone must hate her. She is evil, after all.
So Frigid Snoot asks why, and I tell her about my very painful mole removal. Frigid completely denied that Dr. Nazi would ever do such a thing without novocaine. Since I was the actual patient in this particular mole extraction, I felt that I was somewhat of an expert about what went on in that exam room that day. We argued back and forth until I just dropped it, disgusted at the lengths to which Frigid Snoot would go just to make me look bad. Whatever.
So she was just a peach to have around at dinner. I took particular delight in telling her that I have a wonderful boyfriend of four months while she has been single well over a year. Maybe if she would break free from L for a few minutes and sweeten up long enough to get a guy to buy her a drink she might meet someone!
Repo thinks I'm jealous. I am. To an extent. I just don't understand why Frigid Snoot is on a mission to prevent L from having any other friends. Can't we all just get along?
But I am not only a victim of bad friendship this past weekend. Oh no. You see, I am just as guilty of being a bad friend as Frigid Snoot. Before you think that this blog is all one-sided and pro-VB (what? no! never!), let me tell you about my most recent screw-up.
Remember the wedding I went to? Where Blonde got drunk? And we took pictures of her? If not, read about it here. Anyway, as I predicted, she saw the photo.
I had specifically selected that particular photo because it was A) blurry, B) didn't show her face and C) didn't show her barfing. I thought I was being considerate about her anonymity. Her name is not used anywhere on this blog. I don't even say what hospital she works at. No one knows who is in the picture. Except me and Brunette. And it's not like my blog is discussed on the evening news or has been forwarded to her family. It's basically unknown to the general populace. The thing is, the only people who know her AND read this blog are Brunette (who was there) and Repo, who would never think less of her for it. He likes her. We've all seen her drunk before. I thought it was just a harmless ribbing of my friend. Sort of a "ha ha! Look at my drunk friend! She's so funny!" I was just teasing her.
Well.....she didn't think it was so funny. In fact, she's pissed at me right now. I knew she might be a little embarrassed, and get sick of the teasing from me and Brunette, but I never ever would have done that to piss her off. Definitely not my intention. I guess I misunderstood her sense of humor. I don't want her to be pissed at me, but at the same time, I fail to see why her panties are all in a bunch. She has definitely been drunk in public before. I'm sure this isn't the only drunk picture ever taken of her. So I really fail to see the big deal. The way I see it, if you don't want people taking pictures of you when you are drunk, then don't get drunk. She was so freaked out about people at the wedding seeing her drunk. But only Brunette and I and a couple of her girlfriends even knew she was drunk! It's not like I'm going to print them out and send them to the Mother of the Bride (who got so drunk at the wedding that she fell off the stage, btw!).
Some of my friends have looked at the photo and said, "I don't get it. What's the big deal? Why would anyone be pissed about that?"
It's not like I submitted it to Girls Gone Wild or something. Is she overreacting, or am I being insensitive?
I brought my roommate K with me. The four of us were going to eat dinner and then go see The Break-Up. If you have been planning to see this movie and like happy endings, I would recommend that you save your money. It is basically a movie about a couple fighting. To quote Roper, "It's like being on the double date from hell." All they do is fight, and it is depressing and a real bummer. It will just remind you of all your past breakups.
But I digress.
So K and I meet up with everyone. Well, I had forgotten that L has recently grown a second half, much like the School Nurse in South Park. No, I am not referring to her super sweet husband. And no, she's not pregnant. But she does, indeed, have a second half. It's her neighbor, The Frigid Snoot. Frigid Snoot is permanently velcroed to L's hip. About a year and a half ago, Frigid Snoot became friends with L. What began as just another friendship between two adult women has turned into the biggest, most obsessive Girl Crush I've ever seen. They even refer to each other as "my wife". Normally, I would not even notice this as I'm not a jealous friend. (My friend philosophy is The More the Merrier).
But Frigid Snoot is really mean and rude to L's other friends. And we've all noticed it independently. Then we compare notes in the ladies' room. (Even K, who was meeting all of these girls for the first time picked up on Frigid's attitude, without any heads up from me.) Frigid Snoot ignores us until she is forced to talk to us and even then she won't make eye contact or participate much in the conversation. She only talks to L. She has never said anything nice to me or T. Frigid Snoot thinks her s--t don't stink and tries to dominate all of L's time. She seems to resent the fact that L has lots of friends outside of her. For some reason, L is oblivious to all of this.
This is why T and I hadn't seen L in almost a year. And I for one, am sick of it. And apparently so is T because she seems really apathetic about remaining friends with L.
Ok, so back to the story. I had only met Frigid Snoot once before, about a year ago. So I remembered her name and recognized her face, but couldn't remember why I didn't like her. Then, when she opened her mouth, I remembered why.
I asked her where she worked, and it turns out she is an assistant to Dr. Nazi. So I half-jokingly quipped, "Oh! Your boss is Dr. Nazi! I hate your boss!"
Yes, I realize this would put some people on the defensive. But I didn't mean any harm. I figured everyone must hate her. She is evil, after all.
So Frigid Snoot asks why, and I tell her about my very painful mole removal. Frigid completely denied that Dr. Nazi would ever do such a thing without novocaine. Since I was the actual patient in this particular mole extraction, I felt that I was somewhat of an expert about what went on in that exam room that day. We argued back and forth until I just dropped it, disgusted at the lengths to which Frigid Snoot would go just to make me look bad. Whatever.
So she was just a peach to have around at dinner. I took particular delight in telling her that I have a wonderful boyfriend of four months while she has been single well over a year. Maybe if she would break free from L for a few minutes and sweeten up long enough to get a guy to buy her a drink she might meet someone!
Repo thinks I'm jealous. I am. To an extent. I just don't understand why Frigid Snoot is on a mission to prevent L from having any other friends. Can't we all just get along?
But I am not only a victim of bad friendship this past weekend. Oh no. You see, I am just as guilty of being a bad friend as Frigid Snoot. Before you think that this blog is all one-sided and pro-VB (what? no! never!), let me tell you about my most recent screw-up.
Remember the wedding I went to? Where Blonde got drunk? And we took pictures of her? If not, read about it here. Anyway, as I predicted, she saw the photo.
I had specifically selected that particular photo because it was A) blurry, B) didn't show her face and C) didn't show her barfing. I thought I was being considerate about her anonymity. Her name is not used anywhere on this blog. I don't even say what hospital she works at. No one knows who is in the picture. Except me and Brunette. And it's not like my blog is discussed on the evening news or has been forwarded to her family. It's basically unknown to the general populace. The thing is, the only people who know her AND read this blog are Brunette (who was there) and Repo, who would never think less of her for it. He likes her. We've all seen her drunk before. I thought it was just a harmless ribbing of my friend. Sort of a "ha ha! Look at my drunk friend! She's so funny!" I was just teasing her.
Well.....she didn't think it was so funny. In fact, she's pissed at me right now. I knew she might be a little embarrassed, and get sick of the teasing from me and Brunette, but I never ever would have done that to piss her off. Definitely not my intention. I guess I misunderstood her sense of humor. I don't want her to be pissed at me, but at the same time, I fail to see why her panties are all in a bunch. She has definitely been drunk in public before. I'm sure this isn't the only drunk picture ever taken of her. So I really fail to see the big deal. The way I see it, if you don't want people taking pictures of you when you are drunk, then don't get drunk. She was so freaked out about people at the wedding seeing her drunk. But only Brunette and I and a couple of her girlfriends even knew she was drunk! It's not like I'm going to print them out and send them to the Mother of the Bride (who got so drunk at the wedding that she fell off the stage, btw!).
Some of my friends have looked at the photo and said, "I don't get it. What's the big deal? Why would anyone be pissed about that?"
It's not like I submitted it to Girls Gone Wild or something. Is she overreacting, or am I being insensitive?
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Traveling
The saying 'Getting there is half the fun' became obsolete with the advent of commercial airlines. --Henry J. Tillman
I have been away from the blogosphere this week because I have been working on some travel plans. I have so much going on!
Today I'm going to Savannah for a work conference. So I'll be gone for the rest of the week. That's a picture of the 1858 fountain in Forsyth Park, one of the most well-known landmarks of the city. You might recognize it if you've ever seen Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, which is set in Savannah. That's a great movie, by the way. I'm kind of excited since I've never been there before. I hope I'll have time to look around and check out some stuff. Or at least get some great food. There is so much history and culture down there. I'm hoping to dine at The Pirates House because it is supposedly haunted. You know how I love anything ghosty!
While I'm gone, Sammy will be at the kennel. I just dropped him off and I sobbed the whole way back. I couldn't even say goodbye because I was too upset. Needless to say, I'm feeling very over-protective and fear that this will traumatize him. I'm worried he will think he is homeless or something and will sink into a deep depression while I'm gone. I certainly flatter myself, don't I? But the kenned has been highly recommended and is reasonably priced, so it should be ok. Too bad they don't take credit cards. This will be a little more financially challenging for me, but I should be ok. I sure do wish I could take him with me, though. I'll miss him so much! K will be out of town too, so that's why she can't help me out in the dogsitting department. Navy Guy is graduating so she has to go to Charleston this week and then she has to go to a wedding near Charlotte on Saturday.
Speaking of weddings, after I get back from Savannah on Friday night, I have to turn around and pack for a wedding in Hickory, NC. Blonde's brother is getting married and she invited Brunette and me to attend as her guests. I guess that the bride is somewhat of a bridezilla because she is having a dozen or so bridesmaids. These attendants have to buy $250 shoes and $350 dresses. Miss Bridezilla also registered for some pretty hoity-toity fine china and crystal. A dozen of each Kate Spade place setting. Yeah...that comes out to around $250 worth of dinner plates alone. Must be nice. I'm hoping that she has the same taste when it comes to the buffet. Especially since I will know only three people at this wedding--hey, I can keep myself occupied if you have some good food around!
Let's cross our fingers that I'm not too fat to fit into my dress. When the number on the scale is rising like the price of gas, it's time to hit the gym. I have been sleeping and playing with Sammy too much. Note to self: must start working out again. Thank goodness there is a gym in the hotel.
So I'm trying to get a plane ticket so I can visit my friend German Nurse in (where else?) Germany. She just had the cutest baby and wants me to come visit. "No problem!" I say, "I should be able to get a free ticket with all the points I have saved up on my credit card!"
All 32,000 points. Which took me two years to accumulate. Which I got by using the card to spend $32,000 of my hard earned money. Considering it's only about 10,000 miles or so on a map from here to Germany and back again, I figured I had it in the bag, right? I mean, usually for every point you transfer, you get one mile. Right?
Oh, not in my case! I'm not going to mention the credit card or the airline, but this is basically what happened:
I called the credit card people to transfer ALL 32,000 points over to the frequent flier mile program of the airline. I then go to book the flight. Based on some unknown mathematical equation, my 32,000 points are not based on real, actual geographic miles, but some pathetically small fraction of that. So 32,000 miles are not enough for a free ticket to Germany. (Remember, I have spent $32,000 dollars! And it's not enough for one measly little ticket! Never mind the fact that that much money will buy you a lot of airline tickets to Germany!) How many miles do I need? A total of 50,000. So I offered to buy extra miles to make up the difference.
This seemed like my solution until I found out that they only allow a certain number of frequent flier tickets per flight. And every single flight to Germany in June is fresh out of frequent flier tickets. Go figure. So since I would be one of those frequent flier ticket people, I cannot buy a ticket for a flight to Germany in June.
"If you want to wait until July you can go then using that kind of ticket," they said.
"If I wanted to go in July, I would have booked it in July," I said.
"Ok, well, if you want to stay in Milan a couple of days, then go to Germany, you can do that on June 23rd."
"But I don't have any money or enough vacation time to do that," I said, "Besides, I'm obviously broke, because I'm trying to get a free ticket." Duh.
No dice. They can't work with me on this. All the frequent flier tickets have been sold. I ask to speak to a manager. Some lady (who I imagine looks like Frau Farbissina) gets on the phone with me and interrupts me a zillion times. Finally I asked:
"Well, since I'm not paying for the ticket with 100% frequent flier miles, isn't that ok? I mean, I'm willing to pay $600 of my own money. That's really only about half frequent flier." I asked. To which my reply was, "No, if any portion of the ticket is paid for with miles, it is considered a frequent flier ticket." Oh. Kay.
Then she says, "But we do have a special program where if you have 100,000 frequent flier miles, you don't have to worry about that and you can fly on any of our flights at any time. You can take whatever flight you want."
"But I just told you I only have 32,000 miles. So that isn't really an option for me. That doesn't help. I have no choice but to buy a regular ticket at the full price of $1300."
"Oh, but you could buy the missing 68,000 miles you need to total it to 100,000 miles. Let me see how much that costs...um, that would be $1700 approximately."
I don't think she was even listening to me. It's like that scene in Tommy Boy where David Spade says to the airline ticket counter lady, "Hi. I'm Earth. Have we met?" and she says, "I don't think so....?" That's exactly how I felt!
Gosh, how helpful. When I started to get upset (and yes, cry), she said I can write a letter to corporate. Yeah, because they would do something! I told her she must think I'm stupid. That's when I let her have it.
"You know, I used to have sympathy for airlines when I would see on the news that they were going under. But now I understand why. It's because you have crappy customer service and inflexible policies. I'm offering to pay half price for a ticket. Isn't half price better than nothing? You know as well as I do that that seat will probably remain empty because you would rather stick to your silly policies than get half price. And with the cost of jet fuel these days, I'm really surprised at your business practices. It's no wonder your industry goes belly up all the time. Here I am, a new customer, and all that has happened is that I've misunderstood your policies because I didn't see anything about them on your website. Your website never said anything about this during the whole time I was browsing and looking for a ticket. Your other customer service person, whom I called yesterday, told me I wouldn't have a problem doing what I want to do, so apparently, y'all need to work on your consistency because I'm hearing two different things."
I was not aware of their policies about frequent flier tickets because the policies were hidden on their website. I looked for them, trust me! But nothing on the site said anything about special tickets. Oh, sure, I found it later, after she explained to me where it was on the website. But it shouldn't be that hard to find something so important! I told her she needs to tell the website people at Screw You Airlines that they need to re-do their website because it's very confusing and misleading. She said she'd pass the information along. How much more condescending can you get???.
Wanna hear the kicker? Those points I transferred from my credit card CANNOT be put back onto my card. Trust me, I tried. So it's not like I can start over or something. Now I'm stuck with 32,000 frequent flier miles which aren't enough to help me take the trip I want to take. And now I hate this airline, so I don't even want to have anything to do with them. This was two years of point-saving for NADA.
I think what I'm going to do is use 25,000 of them towards a free domestic flight. I'm sure I'll find somewhere to use them. Gotta make sure it's a flight that isn't booked up already! Sheesh! Let's hope I book it in the next 12 months, because if I don't I will lose those too. Don't you love all these little catches?
Then I will never fly again because this is ridiculously complicated and I feel I'm really not getting my money's worth out of these points. Grrrr....I'll just use my points for other things from now on.
But now I'm left with a dilemma. Do I suck it up and shell out $1300 for a plane ticket? I did find a cheaper flight for $1100, but that's not much of a difference. Or, do I tell German Nurse I can't go? She will be heartbroken. She's already emailed me three times about how excited she is that I'm coming to see her. I'd love to go see her and I already have the time off. But I'm b-r-o-k-e. Any advice for VB?? What would you do?
So continuing on with the money theme of this post...I bought some eye cream at Target the other day. I love Target. I think just about every American woman does. I usually am very happy shopping there. But I go to open the eye cream to use it yesterday. The tube is empty. That's because someone used all of the eye cream (I could tell because there were traces of it in the cap) and then put it back into the packaging and returned it to Target, where they didn't bother to check inside before putting it back on the shelf for sale. So someone got a free tube of eye cream, leaving me very ticked off. And I couldn't find the receipt.
Isn't that gross that someone could do that? I mean, what if they had an eye infection? And how cheap can you get--it only cost about $10. I wish I had thought to check, because people used to do that all the time when I worked for Clinique. Some women would even open their half-used bottles of perfume, dilute it with water, then return the "new" bottle to us. Incredible.
Luckily, I found the receipt this morning. Yesss!!! Maybe my luck is turning around.
Better news: I think Repo is going to get a job offer from a nice hotel today. He said his interview went really well and they called him last night for a second interview. Then they said he should be getting another call today. Sounds good! I am really excited about this because he'll be much less stressed. He's happy because he'd be making more money. Woo-hoo!
Ok, I'm off to catch up on reading some blogs before going on my big adventure! Have a good weekend everyone! I'll be back on Monday.
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