Reports of my disappearance have been greatly exaggerated

Holy schikeys! Has it REALLY been over a MONTH since I last posted on this thing?? Wow. The three or two people who might actually READ this are probably pretty pissed off at me right about now. My most humble apologies for my extended absence. So much has happened; so many things have changed . . .

First, as I mentioned in my last (very long ago) post, I finally got a new job, working in the field for which I am trained. I worried at first that just the act of getting a new job might not be enough. That I'd likely killed off so many brain cells during my two year stint in Hell that I may never recover. Worse yet, I didn't fully trust myself to adequately perform the very duties I wanted so desperately to do again. As it turns out, my worries were wasted energy.

I'm happy to report that my "renewed" career in the graphic arts/printing industry is going quite well. I've discovered that, much like falling off a bike, one never completely forgets everything they knew. I've been pleasantly surprised at the speed with which many of my skills have come back to me. That said, when I started this job, it was with the understanding that the person I would eventually be replacing would be there through the fall to train me. This was a great comfort to me, as I felt it would give me adequate time to get my feet under me, as well as give me a full & complete understanding of exactly what was expected of me with this company - not to mention give me enough training that I wouldn't be so worried about costing the company money while I learned on the job.

Well, because it's me (and I DO tend to have a cynical streak), I probably should have known going in that these plans were likely to change. However, I wasn't quite prepared for just how SOON they'd change. I was there for about a week when my "trainer" started asking me how I felt things were going, how I felt about the job, etc. - all fairly innocent questions, I thought. I answered with just about the right amount of enthusiasm that I felt things were going fairly well & I was enjoying what I was doing - at which time she informed me that it was a good thing, because she'd just given her two weeks' notice. Long story short - I became THE graphic artist on staff about three months sooner than originally planned. This hasn't been a bad thing - on the contrary, it's forced me to get out of my comfort zone and, oh, I don't know, GROW UP a little!! Hell, I AM 40, after all - it's probably about TIME I had a grown-up, responsible job. At least, I'm sure that's what my mom would say.

I'm not sure who's happier about my career change - me or my husband. As he put it, just getting away from "Chicken Little" was like getting a raise. I know he's likely been very relieved to not have to hear me bitch & moan about her every day when I get home. Plus, I feel as though I'm actually USING my brain for a change. Welcome back, brain cells!! I missed you guys!!

I've been seriously behind in reading all my usual blogs. I've ACTUALLY had to (GASP!!) communicate with people IN PERSON!! Oh, the inhumanity!! For example, I had to find out IN PERSON that #1 Dancer is expecting her very own bundle of joy. I couldn't be happier for her!! Holly, if you haven't completely given up on me & are reading this (having recovered from the shock of a new post, of course), congratulations to you & Husband!!! I can't wait to see the loveliness that is produced by the two of you! But if you want me to babysit, you'll have to bring the kid to me. You just live WAY too far out there, man! ;-)

So as not to disappoint my fan, I'll close with an observation of human condition. Why is it that most fast food establishments feel the need to interrupt you in the middle of placing your drive through/drive up order? Hey, I understand they get their share of stupid people. That's a given. But c'mon, man - give me a CHANCE to finish my order before you ask me if I want cheese on that! Perhaps if you spent LESS time interrupting me & asking what I want, you'll actually get my order RIGHT for a change! But, of course, you can't say anything like that when PLACING your order, or you'll get "sneeze bun". But mark my words - the next time you give me lime diet Coke instead of vanilla diet Coke (because they obviously sound SO much alike!), I'm payin' you in PENNIES!!

Hey, I'm a bad ass. Don't ever forget that.

Going, going . . . .GONE!!!

Well, here we are, boys & girls - my last day in the place we call "Hell". As I mentioned in my last post, I have been hired as a graphic designer with a local printing company & start my new job on Monday (no rest for the broke!). To say I'm happy about it is the understatement of the century! Why? Well - allow me to elaborate a bit.

If you've read any of my profile (and c'mon - admit it - you know you have!), you know that I currently work for a "Large Retail Craft Store" in their corporate office. I took this job two years ago because A) I'd been out of work for almost a year at that point & needed a paycheck and B) I thought I could just post out to a different department within a few months of being there & be back in my chosen/trained profession. Little did I know, however, that my last day with the company would be in the same shit-hole department where I started.

See, the thing is, I had fairly high hopes for this job when I first started. Sure, I knew I wouldn't be doing the type of work I'm trained to do, but I thought it might at LEAST be interesting, considering the type of company & the type of products I'd be dealing with. Turns out, there are a LOT of extremely boring, mind numbing positions in a corporate office - and mine is at the bottom of the food chain, but the top of the boring scale.

All of this might be somewhat tolerable (given that each of us has our fair share of downtime, which allows for a lot of surfing time) - if it weren't for my micro-managing, overbearing immediate supervisor. I believe I alluded to her idiocy in earlier posts, so I won't insult your intelligence by repeating it here. Suffice it to say, I've reached my limit on being treated like an idiot by someone who hasn't yet figured out that a "reply all" email means we ALL got it & it's not necessary to forward it to the same group - NOR is it necessary to come and TELL me I got an email!

But I digress . . .

I don't know what I'm more excited about - starting my new job, ending this one, or being able to drink at lunch today with no guilt. ;-)

SHE'S ALIIIIIIIIVE!!!

Miracle of miracles - I made it through March alive! So much has happened since I last wrote. I'll try to give a brief update here - and hope I don't forget anything:

1. My quartet competed last weekend & out of 21 competitors, we placed 7th overall. No medals for this "honor" - but we were pleased with the placement for our first time out. Hopefully, next year will bring us new bling!
   
2. Got to spend last weekend with my son, who soaked up all the barbershop harmony he could handle - and didn't complain once. In spite of the fact that he's spent his whole life around it, most kids would whine just a little - but he never uttered a peep. Probably had something to do with the fact that I let him hang out with me & my friends in the bar on Saturday nite until almost 4am (and no, he didn't drink anything - although, I'm sure his father would have a few choice words for me & how I'm "corrupting our son"; don't get me started). He also just got his new "mouth hardware" - braces for the next two years. He's handling it like such a trooper! I'm so proud of him!!
   
3. Most importantly - I GOT A NEW JOB!!! I'll finally be able to get back into graphic design, which is where my training is - not to mention my soul. I'll leave this hell hole next Friday & start my new job the following Monday. To say I'm relieved is an understatement!! NO MORE MICRO MANAGEMENT FROM ATILA THE HUN!!! I'm so happy, I could shit.
   
4. Started my new workout routine yesterday. So far, so good. I have high hopes of sticking with this - especially since I'm paying for it. The newest thing for me with this is actually working with a trainer. I'm hoping that, in itself, will help keep me on the right track. Their goal for me is to lose about 25% of my current body fat & roughly 57 lbs. I could probably stand to lose more, but with those two combined, I have high hopes of it looking like a bigger loss (I'm built weird, so most people don't know how much I truly weigh, including my husband - which is how I plan to keep it). If I can just start feeling better, less tired & have more energy & stamina, MY goals will be reached. I'll keep you posted on the progress!

That pretty much brings things up to speed since last week. I know - not the most stimulating of stories, but hey - nobody ever accused me of being flamboyant (much). Hopefully, my stories from here on out will have a happier, more satisfied tone to them. Any & all encouragement with regard to my new workout regimen is greatly appreciated! I know there are more 30 to 40-somethings out there in the same situation - so I'd love to hear from you!

Proof of my whereabouts

I mentioned last week (crikey, has it already been a WEEK!?) that this is contest season. This year, I'm competing for the first time with my new quartet & we've been doing a "tour" of other choruses the last couple of weeks, just to get a feel for what an audience will feel like, see how our adrenalin will affect us, etc. It has proved a MOST helpful tool!!

For those of you who aren't bored by this yet, here's what I do in my "other" life.

Presenting . . .

I have an mp3 file that I want to load here to share a sound byte - but I don't know how to get it to work. If anyone can help me with that, I'd appreciate the help - and will post the recording shortly thereafter.

I'm off to attend a kick-off party for yet another contest . . . and can't guarantee that there will be a post next week, as I'll only be working three days. But I promise to keep you updated on how we do next week!

Parental guidance suggested

Pardon my lack of posting over the last few days. It's contest season, so I've been a tad preoccupied - and this is just a warning that it'll only get worse in the next couple of weeks. So if you're a loyal reader - I thank you & request your patience & understanding until my life gets back to some sense of normalcy. Whatever THAT is.

Now - with that out of the way. . . .

There's a trend out there in the world today (mostly among pre-teen & teen girls) that I just don't understand. Back in MY day (and I like to think my day wasn't that long ago) - and even now - if I owned a pair of pants that were rather snug on me, my mother would not THINK of letting me out of the house wearing said pants, much less an accompanying top that was equally too small - not to mention too short. Nor would my mother let me leave the house with my fat rolls prominently displayed through my too tight, too short, thin fabric, leave-nothing-to-the-imagination t-shirt (which I wouldn't have been allowed to own in the first place). Of course, her permission really would never have come into question, since I never would have allowed mySELF to go out there looking like that, for fear of public ridicule (yes - I have issues).

However, the trend I'm noticing among young girls today (roughly ages 12-17) is, I'm told, called the "muffin top". During my shopping excursion today - in a location brimming over with young girls & their mothers celebrating spring break with a shopping spree - I saw a disturbingly large number of girls displaying this latest look. "Rubinesque" figures, wearing low rise jeans two sizes too small, topped with a t-shirt made of some of the cheapest, thinnest fabric in existence, also two sizes too small. Underneath said t-shirt, these girls' spare tires are flopping about, some peeking out from under their t-shirts for all to see (which really wasn't necessary, since the shirt was so tight, you could make out every dimple & large navel in the immediate vicinity). It's no wonder I nearly lost my lunch.

Who told these girls that this was an attractive look? Do the mothers of tween/teen girls no longer teach the glories of holding in one's stomach? Do they not own a MIRROR or have a FRIEND, for God's sake?!?

To be honest - I'm a little torn about how to react to this questionable fashion statement. On the one hand, I applaud these girls for having the self-confidence & apparently high self esteem to dress this way in public. Had I been even half that brave at that age, perhaps I wouldn't have self-esteem/body confidence issues today. Bravo! Good for you! I'm happy to know you don't care about people like me who are judging every thread of clothing on your back & are, instead, making your own statement & being your own person. You go, girl! On the OTHER hand (where I have different fingers), however, there IS something to be said for just plain caring about how you look and putting your best foot forward. If these are the wardrobing skills you have NOW, what does this say for your future closet and the future of our office dress codes?? Does this mean that, in 10 years, "Casual Friday" will include Hooter's girls uniforms?? At the BANK?!?

Probably the most disturbing thing to me about this trend is the fact that the mothers of today's tween/teen girls are MY generation! This means the girls who once wore their bras outside their clothes, ponytails coming out one side of their heads, accompanied by the doo doo roll bangs hairsprayed into just the right angle that kept it from touching their foreheads, red leg warmers over purple leggings, t-shirts that had been "tailored" with the nearest pair of scissors, and makeup . . . that . . .would . . . .um . . . .

Wait . . . I think I get it now.

To the youth of today:

Ok – we admit it. We, your parents, are desperately clinging to our youth. In fact, many of us feel as though we’ve never left our youth behind, but have remained the same age & gained many years of wisdom since graduation.

It may seem to you we, the parents of today, are just square, boring, fun-sucking beings placed on this early solely to make your lives miserable. Trust me when I tell you – as much as we love you, there are many times the feeling is mutual (for which OUR parents are rejoicing). However, what you may not realize is that we are not SO far removed from our youth that we have forgotten what it was like to be your age. So here’s a few words of advice that would be beneficial for you to remember as you go forth into adulthood: The phrase “Don’t lie to me!” does not necessarily mean we want to know EVERYthing.

For example – when it comes to knowing the details of your homework habits, how you’re doing in school, what your report card grades are, etc. – don’t lie. Just own it & tell the truth. Trust us – the consequences will be far more lenient than if you lied. On the flip side – when we accidentally walk in on you in the bathroom & catch you having some “personal time” – and then ask you later what you were doing (for reasons we still don’t understand) – lie to us & give us the standard, “Nothing”. Trust us – this answer worked miracles for US when we were your age & complete disclosure of these details is not necessary. Much like hearing one’s parents having sex – we just don’t want to know that actually goes on.

Stay tuned for the next edition of “Stuff We’re Still Cool Enough to Tell You” when we delve into the topic, “That’s Why God Created Napkins”.

This edition brought to you by the letters R and T , the color blue and the number 1.

Monday, Monday . . .

Random thoughts to start your week:

• Watched the Oscars. Nothing terribly stellar, in my opinion - although, I've already accurately called one of the entries on today's GFY. Whoops! Nope - make that two!! Damn, I'm good!
  
• Witnessed the end today of the first blog I ever read. I won't give the link here - but I might give it here. I just gotta say - while I have since read much more interesting blogs, it's always kinda sad to me to see the end of something that got me started on another "path", so to speak. Plus, now I won't feel quite so . . . in the loop. As much.
  
• Breathing through two nostrils is NOT overrated. And I miss it. Not to mention the inability to do so is making me VERY tired. Neither of which I need during contest season.
  
• As Mondays go, this one hasn't been too bad - mostly because Chicken Little (a.k.a. my boss) isn't here today. Almost was - then decided not to come in. Awww . . . howEVER will we all SURVIVE if she's not HERE?? On top of THAT news, our taxes were completed over the weekend & we're getting a nice, decent sized refund. Yay us!! Couldn't come at a better time!
  
• My one & only son turns 15 in a couple of weeks. I really can't believe that A) he's already at that age and B) I'm old enough to HAVE a kid that age. After all, I'M still only 19, myself. With 21 years of experience.
  

That's about it for now. I will, however, go ahead & forewarn the few people who might stumble upon my blog & be kind enough to read that this month is going to be an extremely busy one for me. I can't guarantee any really good posts - or many posts at all, for that matter - but I do promise to do my best to check in as often as possible. Any and all prayers that anyone can offer up on my behalf that I basically just stay healthy & not catch the "creepin' crud" between now & the end of the month would be greatly appreciated - by both myself & the rest of my quartet. Our main goal this year is to get on stage, have fun & not embarrass ourselves or our chorus. If we can all stay healthy, I think we might actually be able to do it.

This concludes this broadcast of the Most Boring Blog Entry. Had this been an actual Blog Entry, you wouldn't be asleep right now.

New electoral procedures

Ok, so count me among the millions of sheep who were addicted to the fluff that was "Dancing With the Stars". What can I say? I can't help it! For one thing, I, too, look just like that on the dance floor . . . in my own mind. For another - it's just good, wholesome, all-American entertainment, people!! If we all just danced more, we'd have fewer wars . . .

The above message brought to you by Polly Anna.

Part of my enjoyment of this show was directly tied to TiVo. If I haven't said so before . . . I freakin' LOVE my TiVo. How we ever lived without it before now is beyond me. Not only that, but I find myself wishing everything was TiVo-able. Get in the car, turn on the radio & realize you missed something really funny - just rewind it! Go to work, realize you'd rather be elsewhere . . . hit pause & then fast forward through the rest of your day! TiVo! It's not JUST for Desperate Housewives anymore!

But I digress.

The only parts of DWTS I was interested in was the dancing & seeing who got eliminated. I like Tom What's-His-Face well enough, but after about two weeks, I think I can figure out by myself that the judge's scores are only half of the total score & they want America to call in & vote for their favorite dancer to save them from elimination during the LIVE show on Friday - yada, yada, yada.

Speaking of the voting - it was watching this show that made me realize - we have our electoral process ALL wrong! Who really cares about the guy that's right for the country & what his campaign issues are, etc.? Judging from the literally MILLIONS of phone calls received by DWTS, it is perfectly clear that what we REALLY care about is the guy the judges think of as the joke of the contest. Not the woman who worked her (sickeningly fit & tiny) ass off & was a remarkable dancer; not the extremely fit news anchor considered "a real contender for this competition"; not even the dapper, older gentleman who was a laugh riot & always brought a high level of entertainment to each episode. Nope - give America a clod-footed rap star, "doin' it for his homeys" instead. I think it's the shoes - makes him more . . . "accessible".

So all you Republicans & Democrats & campaign managers out there - listen up! Don't waste your time arguing a long list of promises or planning meaningful debates. We'd MUCH rather see you DANCE your way into the Oval Office!

Hey - you want America to get involved, right??

Partners in crime

This is your brain with friends.

This is your brain with friends
after one has just uttered her disappointment
that she didn't get her cleavage uncovered
in time for the previous photo
(can ya GUESS which one??)

Any questions?

Get ta know me!!

Yes, I realize I'm copping out by posting these survey things - but it saves me from having to think about what to post on a weekend when I have to work.

Besides - THIS will tell you FAR more about me than I could come up with on my own. ;-)

What does your birthdate mean?

***Your Birthdate: December 5***

You have many talents, and you are great at sharing those talents with others.Most people would be jealous of your clever intellect, but you're just too likeable to elicit jealousy.Progressive and original, you're usually thinking up cutting edge ideas.Quick witted and fast thinking, you have difficulty finding new challenges.

Your strength: Your superhuman brainpower

Your weakness: Your susceptibility to boredom

Your power color: Tangerine

Your power symbol: Ace

Your power month: May

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Think H3 is happy?

***You Are Brownie Batter Ice Cream***

You've been known to lick *everything* clean


What Flavor Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream Are You?

Why I'd never make it as a nun

Because I'm a quote lover, I have myself signed up to receive "daily inspirations" in the form of quotes from Beliefnet.com. This was the one I got a couple of days ago:

If you judge people, you have no time to love them.

Mother Teresa

Ok - I know Mother Teresa was a saint & all & did all this great stuff for humanity . . . but am I the only one who thinks that perhaps, just this once, she missed out on the real fun? I mean - c'mon! What's more fun than judging people?

Why else do we love Fug? And really - who watches awards shows for the entertainment value? Unless, of course, it's the entertainment value of picking apart what the celebrities are wearing (or aren't wearing, as is usually the case).

And celebrity watching is only HALF the fun! Hello, can we say "Wal-Mart"?!? One need only sit in the parking lot for a few minutes watching the other customers enter & leave this fine establishment to feel better about oneself. My most prevalent thought when walking in or around any given Wal-Mart is, "man, I want her mirror". You know the type - Molly McGoesNowhere, wearing some god-awful outfit, usually consisting of some version of t-shirt knit fabric stretched tightly across areas it inadequately covers, paired with pants in a similar material or - even better - pajama bottoms & fuzzy slippers.

Now, my sister would take me to task on this practice of being judgmental. In fact, she called me on it just the other day when I remarked on the woman I saw in Burger King - who I wasn't so much judging as wondering about aloud (Picture it - middle aged woman, roughly late 40's/early 50's (probably younger, but looked older), long, dark hair, black knit jumpsuit (yes - I said jumpsuit), over which she wore black ankle boot-like shoes. This in itself wasn't bad. However, she also wore black knee socks, which she pulled up over the pant legs in order to make it appear as though she were wearing actual boots. Then there was the black suede bolero jacket - again, not so bad - but over THAT was a red suede bolero-like thing with long fringe hanging from conchas - and the look was topped off with a Ducks Unlimited camo panama hat. It was . . . special). My sister's take on it was, "y'know, she was probably really proud that she'd found something good at the Goodwill." And she's probably right. But still - you can't tell me that wouldn't make you feel a LITTLE bit better about yourself . . . well, you could tell me, but that doesn't mean I'll believe you.

Now trust me - I am no fashion plate. I am not above buying clothes at Wal-Mart occasionally - nor am I too good to take used clothing from someone who wants to give it to me, for whatever reason. Hey, ya grow up poor, you can't afford to be proud. But this whole judgmental thing really has nothing to do with where your clothes are from as much as how you put them together. You could have bought your entire ensemble from Goodwill, for all I know - but if it's clean & well combined, nobody would ever know (trust me - I know from whence I speak). Basically, I consider my people judging to be my own cheap form of therapy. As long as I know there are others out there who look worse than I do (in my view), my self-esteem remains somewhat intact.

This confession of shallowness brought to you by

the number 5 and the letter Q.

Friday musings

How pathetic is it that I only come to work to chat via Yahoo Messenger - because I still only have dial-up at home?

How sad is it that the only things I look forward to in this job are my Internet access, the aforementioned chatting . . . and the few times that my boss is out of the office? Oh, and the occasional Friday meetings with the Creative dept. , because they're a fun group who GET me.

Sadder still - the fact that none of my co-workers and I want to "waste" a day out of the office when our boss isn't here. We will actually NOT take a vacation day on a day that she is out of the office - because, you know, that's like, wasting a free day, man.

I have a quote at my desk that says, "Change the way you look at things, and the things you look at change." I posted that in my cubicle in a desperate attempt to help me see the brighter side of things when I'm here every day. So far - it's not working. This being the first job I've had in a long time that I've actually loathed, it's been a struggle to find my "happy place" when I'm here. So I spend as much time as possible chatting with friends, working on other, more interesting things going on in my life. This, of course, can turn into a double-edged sword, should I get caught too often doing non-work things.

I try to keep this blog as entertaining as possible, because truth be told, nobody likes reading whiny posts all the time (unless you do so to make yourSELF feel better - for which I am guilty as charged - and Holly knows what I'm talking about). But sometimes, reflection is good for the soul.

Another thing good for the soul (in moderation, of course)? Taking a road trip alone for several hours. This is one of my weekends with my son, which means I'll be driving the 3-1/2 hrs. east to pick him up. One bright spot in that, aside from the fact that I get to see my kiddo, is the fact that I WON'T have to drive all the way BACK tonite. I'll actually be spending the weekend at my sister's, babysitting her kids tomorrow nite while she & her husband take the rare opportunity to go out. Trust me - that quick round trip thing can turn into quite the beating after a while.

So I will leave you now, readers, as I pack up my desk & look at the bright spots in my life as a weekend kick-off: The boss left early, which means I can leave early; I have almost four hours in the car to spend learning my newest piece of music; I get to see my son, my nephew & my nieces tonite; and Sunday, I get to come home to a man who loves & adores me - and I him.

Yeah - I have a crap job. But that's just a few hours a day. Everything else? Pretty damn good.

Yay me. Maybe that quote is starting to work after all.

Way Back Wednesday

Because I'm easily influenced by peer pressure. And because now I won't really have to think too hard about my Wednesday posts.

Let the public humiliation begin:

Ok - lemme 'splain . . .

I believe I've already mentioned my affiliation with the Rich-Tones. Ok - so most every year, we do a Christmas show. Last year, we all dressed as toys. Some were more . . . creative than others.

The above photo is me with my former quartet, Alibi. Yes, that IS a giant dreidl. And no, as much as I'd like it to be so, I am NOT the gorgeous brunette on the far left.

Yes, my left eye is closed. And yes, it's closed on purpose. Taped down, in fact. And that's a ginormous false eyelash there below it (and above the other one - duh). Remember the old baby dolls with the eyes that closed when you laid them down? Remember how, after a while, one eye never would open? It always stuck closed?

There ya go.

Yes, my mind is twisted to have come up with this idea. And yes - the most fun part of the entire day was the looks I got from parents & kids alike . . . I think they all thought I was either an alien or permanently paralyzed. Quite funny, actually.

Ripping that tape off my face after many hours in one place . . . NOT so funny.

There's a longer story behind how I came up with the idea to do this in the first place . . . but that's for another time. For now, let's just say that my only regret about this choice, besides not planning on the pain of the tape, is the choice of pajamas - and the decision to NOT wear the "proper undergarments" underneath.

Oh - and the wig color. I am SO not a blonde.

The kids, they are a changin'

Wow, how much do I suck? I just noticed it's been a week since I last posted. Gosh - talk about getting caught up in one's own life. I'm sure all two people who read this on a (semi)-regular basis have been cursing me for days. I'm not sure today's post will put an end to that trend, but I'll give it a shot.

Brief history lesson: I am the oldest of four children. Well, technically, I'm the oldest of seven, if you count my dad's other three kids from his second marriage. But I digress. I have one child of my own, a 14 year old boy who is probably the best kind of 14 year old you can ask for - smart, funny, reads voraciously, enjoys being with his mom . . . all that stuff. He'll be 15 next month, which I can hardly believe - doesn't seem possible that he can already be 15 - one year away from driving a car - because I have not gotten any older. Amazing how that works. For the sake of maintaining his anonymity & innocence, we will call him . . . "Frodo" - because he loves Lord of the Rings.

"Frodo" has spent his formative years growing up out in the country, so there is a bit more innocence to his 14 years than you'll find in most boys his age. This includes not being shy about (or, rather, not thinking about) being undressed in front of mom. This didn't used to bother mom, having given birth to him & therefore having seen it all already - until that fateful day that he threw back the shower curtain unabashedly as I was there brushing my teeth - and I saw hair.

Yes - THAT hair.

Talk about a snapshot your brain doesn't want replaying in your head!

Needless to say, that's the day mom realized that shower curtains are not reliable forms of privacy. I'll brush my teeth in the kitchen from now on, if necessary.

I have two sisters - one who lives on the east coast with her two children & one who lives just a few hours from me with three children. All our names start with "M", so we'll call them M2 & M3 (I, of course, being M1). M3, currently a stay-at-home mom, calls me on a fairly regular basis, both to get her fill of adult conversation and to regale me with the latest antics of her children. That's where this story begins.

Hang on - I'm getting to the good part.

M3's oldest child, her only son, just turned 10 this week. Per M3, "Son#1" spent quite a bit of time in the bathroom yesterday (as pre-adolescent boys tend to do). After considerable time, he exits the bathroom excitedly to tell his parents (in his very high-pitched, up-speak voice that always cracks me up), "While I was in the bathroom? I found this hair on my testicle? And when I pulled on it? It was attached! So I cut it!"

As M3 mentally screamed, "NOOOOOOO!!!! He's only 10!!!", on the outside, she tries to play it down, by saying, "I'm sure it was just a hair from your head that fell into your lap, and . . . ", to which Son#1 said, "Oh, no, mom - it was ATTACHED! You wanna see where it was?"

And without waiting for an answer, Son#1 drops his pants, grabs & lifts his "package" (such as it is) and says, "See? It's red where I was pullin' on it!"

M3's husband, of course, got quite a kick out of all of this, telling Son#1, "Now son, you can't be showing your junk to your mom anymore. At least wait until it's COVERED with hair, then show it to her all at once." Yeah - she's lucky, alright.

Meanwhile, as M3 maintains her denial, Son#1 says, "Well, I can't wait to get hair under my arms! Frodo didn't get hair under HIS arms until he was 13! I bet I can do better than THAT!"

And they say kids don't have goals these days.

This is dedicated to the job I haaaate . . .

Direct from SavageChickens.com:

. . . because I couldn't have said it better myself. And because, due to the above-referenced job, I have no thoughts to blog today - inspiring or otherwise.

Well, that's not entirely true. I have thoughts. Things like, "does Chicken Little have nothing better to do today that she must create work for herself by way of proofing my internal document to make sure I didn't miss some minute detail - which only WE will see anyway?"

Or "how much longer must I be tortured in this mind-numbing, brain cell killing job? And how much of my actual operating brain will I have left if I ever DO get out of here?"

And "if a chick pea is neither a chick nor a pea, why do we call it that?"


See? Aren't you glad I didn't share my thoughts with you today?

There's a reason "blackened popcorn" isn't an air freshener option

Ok - I've been wracking my brain this morning, trying to come up with a topic for today's post that will be both entertaining & informative . . . and then it hit me. Not the idea - the smell.

Burned popcorn.

There are few odors more offensive in an office environment than the smell of burned popcorn. Oh, sure - you've got the occasional cloud of hairspray or hideous cologne from the idiot boss in the next cubicle, wafting its way through the department. Or the insidious "silent but deadly" scents that may sneak out of any given space. But even those dissipate within an hour or less.

But burned popcorn? Holy mother of pearl - that's a foul smell that not only permeates the air around you - for several hundred square feet - but also lies dormant within the microwave until the next user. Then you get to experience it all over again - sometimes as an after taste in your food, if you're the unfortunate next user.

Now - here comes the "informative" part . . .

Microwave popcorn is not a new invention (and in spite of his attempt to invent it on his own in the late 70's & thereby turning someone else's microwave into a flaming chunk of plastic in the process, no, my dad didn't invent it). Few people can remember when microwave popcorn didn't exist. I'll even go so far as to venture a guess that the majority of the people in my office have probably cooked microwave popcorn in their own homes - and that their inaugural foray into this cooking experience did NOT happen here at the office. Additionally, microwaves have come a long way since they were first invented. Most, if not all, now have a "popcorn" button on them, setting it to a pre-set time to produce the perfect bag of popped, fluffy goodness. Takes the guesswork right out of it.

People, please. I implore you. Read the bag! If you're still unsure of the "3 to 3-1/2 minute" time recommendation, remember this - less is more. Less time = more unburned popcorn. Which equals less "Eau de Charred Corn" aroma emanating through the building.

Personally, I think this should be added to the employee evaluation questionnaire before you're hired. "How long does it take to pop an average bag of microwave popcorn?" Or, "Do you now or have you ever had difficulty with cooking food in a microwave without burning it?" The incorrect answer to each of these questions should result in immediate disqualification of employment consideration.

After all - THINKING we work in hell is one thing. Actually SMELLING the proof doesn't help our daily denial.

Yeah - that's what I SHOULDa said . . .

Y'know how you say something that you think is really clever at the time & then go back & realize you SHOULD have said something else? That's the case with my recent meme.

First of all, I totally missed the four places I've lived. Not that anyone is probably interested, but four of the places I've lived are (in order from birth to now):

Slidell, Louisiana (my birthplace - what's left of it after Katrina)
Benton, Louisiana
Lafayette, Louisiana (one of the coolest towns on the planet)
Hurst, Texas (I wasn't born a Texan, but I got here as soon as I could)

Ok - now THAT's done . . . after reading Suzanne's meme (thanks, Suzanne, for playing along!!), I realized I missed one of my favorite movies EVER! Office Space!!! I can't help myself - I watch it every time it's on - if only to see the guy talk about his stapler. And the fact that I now have a job very much like those profiled in the movie doesn't depress me at ALL! No sir! (insert eye roll here)

As for other things I should have said - I was raised in the south. Southern women are taught from a very young age that we do NOT talk back - we hold our tongues & bitch about it to our friends privately later. So my list of "things I should have said" is quite lengthy. At times, however, I surprise myself (and the person I'm speaking to) and say exactly what's on my mind - which, I must say, is quite a liberating experience. This is one skill my sister has down pat, for which I greatly envy her. Alas, those moments for ME are few & far between.

For example - when the waiter at the hotel restaurant we recently visited came by after ignoring us for a good 45 minutes & asked, "Is everything alright?", what I SHOULD have said was, "Oh yeah - everything's great. I always WANTED to pay $8 for an eight piece order of mildly lukewarm calamari that came from the Mrs. Paul's freezer (who I didn't even know HAD calamari), served with a side of ketchup-infused mayo instead of the "sundried tomato aoli" I was promised in the menu. And the fact that I haven't had any water to drink in the last 20 minutes has been one of the many highlights I will share with anyone I meet when asked to describe the attributes of your establishment. I hope this $1 tip on our $16 tab is equally alright with YOU."

Or when my overbearing boss (a.k.a. Chicken Little - because, to her, the sky is always falling), upon leaving the office at 4:44 pm yesterday, asked my co-worker & I, "Think you two can hold down the fort for the rest of the day?", what I SHOULD have said was, "Gee - we have to be in charge for 16 WHOLE MINUTES?? I don't know - I'm not sure I can handle that kind of pressure. Are you certain that you trust US with that kind of responsibility? I mean, we are, after all, apparently too stupid to know how to do our jobs without copying you on every stinkin' email we ever send; and we obviously are unaware of how email works, either, since every time you send us one, you feel it necessary to shout out over the cubicles, "DID YOU GET THE EMAIL I JUST SENT?" or - even better - get UP & come look over our shoulders to make sure we GOT the damn thing. Nor are we aware of how to call anyone on our own, since immediately after asking us to "Call so & so", you pick up the phone & do that very thing. So hold down the fort? For 16 minutes?? No - you've made it abundantly clear that we CAN'T handle that."

Yes - on the 8th day, God created Southern women - and on the 9th day, He created the blogs that would enable them to vent their frustrations to the world, thus saving them thousands of dollars in therapy sessions.

And God was pleased.

Whatsa meme wit ME? Whatsa meme wit YOU??

In spite of the fact that this is usually what I would regard as "spam" & delete, I feel obligated to reply to it because A) it came from Holly, B) it's my first "tag" via my brand new blog and C) it was called a "meme" (spam by any other name . . . ). So here goes:

4 Jobs I Have Had

My very first job (aside from oldest of four/built in babysitter) was working at an ice cream/hamburger joint called Hollies (coincidence? I think not). I flipped burgers, I took orders, I scooped ice cream, I made gorgeous banana splits. I rocked. I also learned first-hand what it was like to work for twenty-somethings on a power trip (I was all of maybe 15 or 16 at the time).

My second job was during my career education in high school. It only lasted a couple of weeks (because the guy paid with rubber checks), but I worked as a receptionist for a private investigator. I was probably 17 or 18 at the time - and quite naive (small town, remember?). My duties included answering the phone (which never rang), making coffee (which I don't drink & therefore couldn't make well, in the days before filter packs - he only asked me to do so once), and occasionally posing as a telemarketer to call "subjects" to get information from them for a case. Yeah - telemarketers ALWAYS ask, "What time did your husband get home last nite?" Needless to say, I don't think he's still a P.I.

My third job was actually my very first full-time, grown-up, right out of high school job. I worked as a Word Processor for Commercial National Bank. We had one big room in the basement, where a group of about six of us did all the word processing for the entire bank. Think of it as a secretarial pool for the 80's. This, of course, was back in the days of mainframe computers the size of a four passenger sedan. None of these things exist any longer, of course - rooms of people doing strictly word processing (as well as mainframes the size of sedans) gave way to PCs on everyone's desk and Commercial National Bank is now another bank by another name, the victim of one of the many bank mergers in the country. And suddenly, I feel very, very old.

My fourth job was actually my FIFTH job, but since I can only list four according to this meme . . . I worked as a Graphic Designer/Computer Services Technician/DTP Asst. Coordinator (whatever they wanted to call it that day) at Kinko's. For five years, I created/edited everything from resumes to invitations to brochures to flyers & learned everything I know today about typesetting, graphic design, etc. I also suffered through my fair share of stupid people in large groups - also known as "those who use self service computers and/or copiers". I loved the job, but five years in a retail environment at barely more than minimum wage was kinda my limit. Once again, neither this position or this company (as it originally was) exist any longer. I'm beginning to sense an "obsolete" theme, here.

4 Movies I Could (and Do) Watch Over and Over Again

I realize I should be far more cerebral & list movies like "Casablanca" or "From Here to Eternity", but come on - that would only make YOU feel inferior to me. And since it's all about YOU . . . .

Some of my many favorites (in no particular order):

Best in Show - I'm not a dog person, but I love this movie & the others like it (Waiting for Guffman, A Mighty Wind). Those people are freakin' genius.

West Side Story - because I love the songs & know pretty much every line, word for word. However, I gotta say - Tony was an idiot. He & Maria should've left when they had the chance.

Muriel's Wedding - I love Australian movies. And ABBA. Toni Collette at her early best.

Strictly Ballroom - Ok, so shoot me - I love musical movies (would you REALLY expect anything less?). Besides, this is yet another Australian/ugly duckling type movie. And the dancing is AWESOME!

4 TV Shows I Love

Lost - what the heck IS that "security system" thing, ANYway??
Extreme Home Makeover - guaranteed Sunday nite cry.
Desperate Housewives - yeah, yeah, I know; it's no Dynasty or Knots Landing. It's funnier. Which makes it better!
Grey's Anatomy - also funny, smart & with yummy Patrick Dempsey in the cast, not too hard to watch. Oh, and I LOVE me some George! I would SO date him - if I were single - and rich - and in Seattle - and he was real.

4 Favorite Books

Really too many to mention here - but if you're hoping for something really inspiring like War & Peace - well, you should know by now that I'll only disappoint you.

She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb
Wicked by Gregory Maguire
The Dieter by Susan Sussman
I Know This Much Is True by Wally Lamb

(there are others, but the titles escape me at the moment - and I want to get this silly thing published today!)

4 Places I Have Vacationed

Pensacola, Florida - friend's condo, which is currently in it's second state of repair, due to hurricanes. But SUCH a fun place!
New York City - went there on an anniversary trip with H3. WOW! What a city!! Can't wait to go back!
Montreal, Canada - attended H3's international convention there a few years ago. Beautiful place. Especially loved the underground mall. Would like to return & see more of the city.
Seattle, Washington/Vancouver, BC - lucked out & saw Seattle in all it's glory during a non-rainy week. July is definitely the best time to visit - especially if you're escaping the Texas heat!

4 Websites I Read Every Day

Dooce
Sarcastic Journalist
Go Fug Yourself
Overheard in the Office

4 Favorite Foods

If you've SEEN me, you know there isn't much food I DON'T like - so it's hard to pick a favorite. Hmmm . . . .

Friday's Spinach Artichoke dip
On the Border Chicken Tortilla Soup
Bennigan's Kilkenny Country Chicken Salad
Red Robin's Barbecue Chicken Salad

I'm also a dessert freak - especially love Applebee's Maple Walnut Blondie (cripes - I seriously need to get some freakin' CULTURE in my life!!! Bennigans?? Friday's??? Applebees??? Holy mother of pearl - I'm a victim of The Man!!)

Note to self: consume anymore chicken & you'll start growing feathers!


4 People I Am Tagging

This being my first blog - and my first meme - I'm a tad hesitant to tag anyone for this. So I figured I'd go out on a limb, hit "next blog" & tag those I found most interesting (as well as including one that I read every day). Ok - here goes nothin'!

Sarcastic Journalist
Conway Life
Just One More Thing
Reads With Dogs

And if you choose not to participate in the meme, I'll understand - and I'll still read your blogs. I just had to have something to finish out this page.

Let the meme-ing begin!

Glory Hog

Once upon a time in 1987, a very young, naive girl decided to join a very small chorus in her hometown of Shreveport, Louisiana. Her primary objective was getting voice lessons outside of the tiny church choir she sang with on a regular basis (which really only offered lessons in "how to sound twangy"). Little did she know that her membership in that very small chorus would literally change her life - in very large ways.

Ok, so the "very young, naive girl" was me (emphasis on "was"). When I joined the Sweet Adeline organization, I was a mere 21 year old nymph, had been married two years (yes - I was a child bride) & living out in the boondocks with the rednecks. So it really didn't take MUCH for this whole singing thing to change my life - I mean, the only direction I could GO was up, right?

Fast forward almost 19 years (yeah, do the math - I'm not 21 anymore). My membership in Sweet Adelines has lasted longer than all three of my marriages combined. I've had the privilege of singing with a total of four different choruses in three separate cities & am blessed with more friends than I can possibly count - many of whom I've never met personally. Change my life? Oh yeah. Kinda led to my first divorce (he couldn't handle the fact that I was growing my own brain & learning to use it); was partially responsible for two of my moves; was TOTALLY responsible for me being in the right place at the right time to meet H3 (he's a singer, too). The list goes on & on.

Back before I joined this organization, I never would have thought of myself as someone who enjoyed performing in front of other people. I know that anyone who knows me NOW will find this hard to believe (and my mother may have stories to directly contradict this), but I used to consider myself to be a somewhat shy person. Needless to say, I got over it (you HAVE to, in THIS group!). This past weekend, my current quartet "debuted" ourselves at a regional meeting - and, I must say, we brought down the house.

I may be one of the first to freely admit it - but audience applause is one of the best natural highs EVER (listed right under "great sex" - but if you can get applause AND sex - BONUS!). At the risk of sounding really narcissistic, it is SO COOL to have an audience applaud for something YOU did!! I didn't do it all by myself, however, - I am very blessed to be singing with three phenomenal women who are wonderful performers in their own rite. And it didn't hurt that the majority of these people are very dear friends who only want the best for me & anyone I'm performing with. But hey, friend applause is STILL applause!

My favorite statement of the evening came from the bass singer in my quartet, who came to me after we had performed for the masses & said, "You become a totally different person when you perform! But it didn't scare me!"

Eat your heart out, Mr. Hyde.

All the effects of a hangover - without the drinking fun

Last nite, H3 (which is what I decided to use as my code for the hubs - as he is the third & final spousal installment) and I were fortunate enough to be a part of a mixed harmony performance that was, to date, the highest freakin' hourly rate I have EVER earned. We sang a lot of "Ah" for about three minutes with 20 other people & will be paid $125 each for the privilege. If only I could find those gigs ALL the time! But I digress. Part of the preparation for this evening of obnoxious hourly rates was taking the entire day off - which meant, of course, that we slept until we woke up - which happened to be 10:30 am (and I don't feel one bit bad about it, so there). The fact that we slept so late would give me the false sense of being "fully rested" later on - but you'll see what I mean in a minute.

Sooo . . . we go to the gig, we sing, we're fabulous, we leave. H3 had his regular chorus rehearsal afterward, so three of my friends & I decide to attend (because one of my friends is single & we were "shopping" for her - hey, it's 120+ men who share a similar interest; eHarmony can't even give you that!). Rehearsal goes until 10:30. At 10:15, the oldest & youngest of my foursome decide they're whupped & leave. Logic told my other friend (who is 10 yrs. my junior) & I that we, too, should go home. BUT . . . there were BOYS there! And they SING! And they think I'M "f*ckin' cool!"!! Leave?? And miss an overabundance of ego boosting via male attention?? NEVAH!!!

So, against my better judgment (which, of course, was clouded by the large quantities of testosterone directed in my general vicinity; yes, I AM pathetic, thanks), I accompany H3 & my girlfriend to the bar. We ate, we drank (tea - Lipton, not Long Island), we laughed loudly, we gossiped with abandon, we flirted shamelessly (I am soooo very lucky that H3 is SUCH a good sport!!), we sang tags . . . until two freakin' a.m. What time do I have to get up to prepare for my day at the Gates of Hell?? Why, 6am, of course! I'm not GREAT at math . . . but I did figure out that four hours would not a deep sleep make. But, of course I still had my post-first divorce Infallible Girl in the back of my head saying, "Bah! Four hours? You've survived on less!"

Let this be officially noted for the record - Infallible Girl is a dumbass. She is officially dead to me, as her advice cannot be trusted. I woke up this morning feeling as though I'd been on an all nite bender - and sadly realizing that I felt these effects after drinking ICED TEA. I believe this makes me officially old. Next thing you know, I'll be having my lunches at ten, dinner at three & breakfast the day before. I'm probably just a kidney stone's throw from reading glasses on a chain around my neck & a shawl as a permanent fashion accessory.

However, I'm no quitter (two ex-husbands notwithstanding). I will fight this aging thing as hard as I possibly can. No cream, powder, ointment or miracle wrinkle remover will go untested. If I can't reverse the clock, I can at least removed one of the batteries & slow it down a little.

Right after my nap.

P.S. to TB - heaps of gratitude to you for your sizzlin' compliment. For as long as I'm able to remember it, you have made my day today!

Setting the record straight

Lest anyone reading Ms. Holly's blog should think that the "friend" she references as the maker of the casserole (which rocked, btw) is Melany, I am here to go on record as saying that it was ME, the UNNAMED "friend" - Melody - who actually assisted in planning & preparing for the party - and constructing said casserole - and consuming large quantities of pomegranate martinis (which also rocked, btw).

(I'm the "hot" redhead on the left, for those of you who might be confused - and I mean "hot" as in "power surge" - although, all compliments to the contrary are more than welcome).

Guess you gotta forgive the girl - she gets her Mels confused. I mean, can't you see why? We look SO much alike.

I gotta say, though - we WERE workin' it with the 'tinis! Go us!

Ok, Holly - I forgive you for not including your party co-conspirator in your blog. Just . . . don't let it happen again. Because, really - if I mention your name here one more time, people will start to talk.

The Inauguration

Ok - so I'm sheep. After getting hooked on various blogs by a friend of mine (ok, her name is Holly & she's the #1 Dancer) - and then feeling incredibly out of the loop for not having one of my own - I decided to give this blogging thing a shot & see how well I do at it. Hey, I can be funny & creative with the next guy - this should be a piece of cake, right?

Like Holly, I, too, am addicted to barbershop singing - with the same group. But I'm sure you'll hear more about that later - ad nauseum, no doubt. Hey, nobody's twisting your arm to read this stuff.

After reading other blogs, I've discovered that being around 30, having a toddler (or two) at home, taking digital pictures every day (with very expensive cameras, apparently) , being on (or needing to be on) some form of anti-depressant and talking about poop a lot seems to be one of the marks of a successful blogger. That & allowing comments.

Not to dash anyone's hopes here, but if this is the formula you seek when searching for another blog to read, let me stop you now. This page will only serve to disappoint you - and I don't need that kind of pressure. To be fair, I DO plan to allow comments and I may even venture into the occasional "poop talk". Heck, if you're lucky, I might even mention farts - both the literal & figurative variety. And if I ever get around to downloading them from the camera, you may even get the occasional picture I have taken (with my not-so-fancy digital camera), blurry though it may be, as I am without fancy lenses/flash attachments, etc. However, I passed being 30 exactly a decade ago (and am trying desperately to embrace that fact, so be kind), and the only time there's a toddler in my home is on the slim-to-none occasion that my sister or brother visits with their kids - which, since they've become toddlers, has been never. As for the anti-depressants, I'm not currently using one, but that's no guarantee that you won't think one is necessary after reading one or more of my posts - so consider that my gift to you, the reader.

What WILL there be here that may interest you, you ask? Who can say, really? There may be brilliant days when you find my musings to be exceedingly witty & hilarious & you walk away wanting to be me when you grow up. Then again, there may be days when you want to gouge out your eyes from having to read yet another word from me about my lame-ass job or my chorus or my family or how I constantly worry that we won't have enough money at the end of every month - to which I say . . . ain't voyeurism great? You get the good AND the bad!

Because I know Holly is waiting anxiously for me to post this, I will close now & publish this so she can link to it (and please note, Holly - my mention of YOUR name on MY blog = 4 times; your mention of MY name on YOUR blog = zero; who's the real friend NOW, huh???). ;-) But before I go - a random quote to get you through the day:

Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow.

Professional Driver - turnin' the corner.