To Lie or Not to Lie

I am preparing to take my annual summer cruise next week. A quickie to a couple of islands in the Bahamas and back with only my daughter and I.

I am looking forward to the peace and quiet of reading and sunning while I shove the brat into whatever bullshit activities they have to keep her out of my hair.

Bless them.

While packing I stumbled across a book I was given as a gift. It is called "A Mother's Life" and I thought I would plan to finally complete it while on vacation.

So I flipped through it expecting basic shit like how happy were you when I was born and what was my first word.

Yeah....no.

The fucking thing want MY life story. I guess I should have paid better attention to the title of the thing, huh?

When was your first kiss?

I attacked a poor unsuspecting five year old in the cubbies in kindergarten. Come to think of it, the prick told on me.

What was your first job?

Selling joints for a dollar each in the cafeteria in Jr. High.

When did you and my father meet?

He was the best friend of the guy I really liked.

Describe your wedding day?

We did lines on the way to the reception where the family was taking bets on how long the marriage would last.

See, not something I particularly want to share with the little ones...even when I am dead.

On the other hand, maybe it will cause them to look back and say...gee, mom was one cool mutherfucker.

Naaaa, I think I will put this one in the regift section of the closet.

Off to check out your blogs. I hate not knowing what the kewl kids are up to.

Submarine Races

Thanks Sis for sending. I have money on the race.

Speaking of money, congratulations to Special K for not having a fucking dime in her pockets or purse and loving her little plastic cards. I, for one, am not ready to go that route but it appears many of you kids are far more trusting in technology than I am.

SK, email me with your address for your pity prize. :-)

Friday Game

Okay kids, the previous post has made me curious. There are far too many of you gainfully employed people out there walking around without a cent.

So let's play a game.

Reach into your pockets, wallets, purses and desk draws. Every penny counts even the one stuck to the old certs at the bottom of your purse or the dime glued down by god knows what in your desk drawer that will be there years after you leave. You kids across the pond can play but with the current exchange rates, your dollar is worth about $95 of ours so you probably don't have a chance.

How much cash do you have on you? To make it interesting, the winner gets more than just the chance to be publicly mocked by me. I'll send you a roll of nickels to use in the event you're in front of me on line at Albertson's.

Currently, I have

2 Twenties

1 Five

3 Singles

$2.81 in change and

2 once white but now sort of gray tic tacs.

What say you?

**Game ends Tuesday May 27th at 5pm due to the US holiday weekend.

Money, So They Say, Is The Root of All Evil Today.

Excuse me while I climb back up on my soap box and scream at the top of my lungs.

People, carry some fucking cash!

Time and time again I get behind you fuckers that need to use the damn debit machine for a purchase of three ears of corn and a box of condoms.

Yeah, I wondered about that too.

However, today's numnutz won the prize for most annoying of the week.

Okay, before I get into the details, I will say I was a bit on the cranky side after I tried to start my car this morning and noticed I had left the lights on and the key in the ignition.

Yeah, stop the snickering, like you've never done it.

I woke up number one son and ordered him out to the garage to push the damn thing out and give it a jump. One of the few advantages of supporting the kid as he attends college.

Of course all this occurred while I flipped on the news, put my feet up and poured myself another cup of coffee. Why should we both get sweaty and dirty?

With his mission accomplished, I drove off whistling an off key version of "hi ho, hi ho" to try to ease my stress of being late and having too much caffeine pumping through my body.

Alas, I need to make a quick stop at the market to pick up a few munchies for a meeting I had scheduled this afternoon.

Hoping to dash in and out, I grabbed a couple of bags of chips, 2 bottles of soda and headed for the register.

I scanned for an open lane and saw there was only one with a single gentleman on line to pay for one lowly bottle of water.

SCORE. I'd be on my way in less than five minutes.

Or so I thought.

When asked for his $1.06, Rockefeller proceeded to fumble in his back pocket for his wallet.

You know, because how would he know to have his wallet out and ready?

Fully expecting to see a couple of bucks handed to the cashier or the slightly more annoying scavenger hunt for six cents, what the customer actually did was extract a Visa card.

For one dollar and six cent.

As if that wasn't annoying enough, the card was declined.

"Let me try to use my PIN" he offered as if being helpful.

Declined.

"Wait, I think that was the wrong number, let me try again."

At this point, to keep my head from exploding resulting in a huge cleanup on isle four, I offered to pay for his water.

"That is very nice of you but I really need to find out what is going on with my card."

I looked around saying a silent prayer that another register had since opened up but alas, my choices consisted of waiting or leaving the unhealthy yet savory snacks behind.

The aging cashier, no doubt accustomed to this bullshit, called for the manager who attempted to re process the transaction again to no avail. He then advised this dude, you may notice that he had lost gentleman status in my mind, he needed to contact his financial institution to remedy the situation and in the meantime did he have the cash to pay?

In complete unison, the cashier and Loser McBrokeass looked at me.

"I'll be happy to help you out", I said with a forced smile and handed her two singles.

Listen, I happen to think using a debit or credit card to pay for groceries is a wonderful convenience. The fact that you often can get cash back for no extra charge is just as lovely. However, if something is under two dollars and you have to pull out plastic, I really feel you should work on the planning ahead thing.

Later on in the morning, I shared this experience with a friend who defended jerko and said she also very rarely carries cash and sees nothing unreasonable about using a card for a dollar purchase.

She has now been demoted to acquaintance status. I can not be friends with someone like that.

The next thing she'll tell me is that she is also one of those that hold up the line writing a check and I simply had enough disillusionment for one day.

It is almost 10:30 am and I have not had my morning cigarette or my caffeine fix. I certainly wouldn't want to work for me today.

As many of you know, I run an office with 25-30 employees. It is run by the tier method of management.

In layman terms that means I appoint others to listen to the bullshit so I don't have to. They appoint their peons and so on and so on until the lowly file clerk has ten supervisors driving her crazy asking what the fuck is taking so long with their damn paperwork?!

I simply can't listen to petty bullshit problems. It isn't in me to pretend to give a shit that Mary left early or Susy snapped at Lucy. Those supervisors out there that have the ability to nod and smile through that nonsense have my utmost respect. It simply isn't my style to give a shit.

That being said, a former employee of mine just stopped by for a visit. Well, she actually came by for advice as she has recently been promoted to the head honcho role in her company.

Her question was a simple one..

How do I make my staff afraid of me like your staff is afraid of you so I don't have to bother with the bullshit gossip they bring to me everyday and page me for each night?

I really couldn't help her. See the problem is she actually cared if she was liked. She befriended these people. She asked about their family and pets like she actually gave a shit. In other words, the precedent had already been set and she is fucked unless she wants to fire them all and start over.

Do I like that my employees are afraid of me?

Fuck yeah.

Number one, I only have to deal with things of a professional nature and only after someone tossed a coin in order to decide who has to approach the bitch with the problem.

Number two, I get to walk around like Queen shit while everyone pretends to be working so diligently and sneak up on them when they aren't. Not that I care but I get amused by their oh fuck, the boss just saw me playing solitaire on line face.

When a new employee starts, I always offer the welcome wagon speech about being approachable and talking to me if you have any problems.

I figure someone will get the word to them that seeing Chris is really not a very good idea if you are going to complain about a fellow employee.

I run a successful business with terrific people that I reward generously for doing their job and doing it well. People love working here. So much that the average employee has been with the 12 year old company over six years.

Maybe people would rather work for someone who is their friend and listens to their every complaint from PMS to work place affairs. However, it is rare that those companies succeed. There has to be someone that they all can collectively gossip and bitch about.

I am more than happy to fulfill that role as long as I get my ass kissed in the process.

Excuse me while I buzz the file clerk to find out why I still don't have a fucking cup of coffee sitting in front of me???

A good friend of mine called this morning really pissed off at her husband.

When I say pissed I mean Linda Blair, head turn full around, puke pea soup kind of pissed.

As she was telling me the story I was absolutely horrified at what a beast this man was and if I didn't make it a habit not to interfere with another couple's relationship, I would have advised her to get the best fucking lawyer his money could buy.

I am about to share with you what the fucking bastard did.

Be prepared for something horrible.

That G-d Damn son of a bitch didn't get the trash cans in front of the house early enough for the garbage truck to pick them up.

Yes, it is true.

As she went to leave for work, she noticed her neighbor's homes had their cans upside down and tossed carelessly in the middle of the road where they belong.

Still at the side of the house bursting at the seams with the lid barely holding the contents of last nights meatloaf and Tuesday's pizza box was their cans. The very same cans that she had reminded him to put out front THREE FUCKING TIMES. (She yelled that part so loudly that I said a silent prayer for the poor man)

But that's okay. She has worked out the perfect plan to fix his ass.

Withhold the ole in and out indefinitely.

"If he thinks he is going to get anything stroked, sucked or submerged into cootchie in the near future, he would be sadly mistaken".

Wait....what?

As you kids are no doubt aware, I am certainly no expert on relationships. However, I have learned a thing or two in my 40 something years of male/female negotiations. If you want a man to do what you ask, you increase the bootie, not withhold it.

Face it, he gets the withholding treatment from every other woman on earth. He's used to it. If you're withholding sex, you may as well be Jessica Alba.

He isn't getting any from her either.

What he isn't expecting is you to greet him at the door with Victoria's newest secret and lots of bright red lipstick. Men and their love rockets aren't that difficult to figure out....

If you are smoking the bone regularly, they are happy. If they are happy, they want to keep you happy. Maybe even put the garbage pail out front without you nagging and possibly skipping down the driveway to do it.

I pass these words of wisdom to all you gals that are still young and haven't figured this out yet.

Guys are like tile. Lay them right and you can walk all over them for the rest of your life.

Bathroom Woes

Those of you kids that have hung on for a while, have probably experienced my tale of the ungodly stench that flows into my office from the rest room across the hall. After lunch in this place is like Rotor Rooter retirement party when no one had time to go home and change.

So after much bitching, complaining, note leaving and spraying, I finally got the staff trained to leave the fucking fan on and closed the G-d Damned DOOR!

Of course it still reeks in there but at least I can gingerly open the door holding my breath and ever so careful take a tiny little whiff to check if someone had recently let some kids off at the pool. Thus allowing me to back the hell out and find another rest room to do my business.

I have about an hour trip to get into the office every morning and by the time I get in, my bladder is so full that the only thing on my mind is getting to the potty as soon as possible to eliminate the five cups of coffee I drank before I left for work. Although the Kegels I have to do to keep from peeing myself has made my coochie so tight I could grab hold of some guys schlong like a vacuum cleaner; currently, the tightening is between me and my tampax.

This morning, I rush in as usual, throwing good mornings hither and tither as I make my way to glorious relief. I open the bathroom door, head for the commode and...........

THE FUCKING TOILET SEAT IS UP.

Now, I was under the impression that all men have been trained about this from some female in their lives at one time or another. If mommy didn't do her job, then a girlfriend or wife would make the correction.

I counted to ten, slammed it down and did my business convincing myself that it must have been the cleaning crew who didn't put it back down after scrubbing it out with whatever they scrub it out with. I mean no one that works for me would DARE to do such a thing.

A few hours and a few more pots of coffee had passed when I felt the need to revisit the scene of the crime.

Yup, you guessed it. Some prick had drained his lizard and did it again. There is some MALE that works here that has no fucking manners. Not only that, he left a few little pee dribbles and a pUb just so I could really enjoy touching the seat to put it down. There isn't enough toilet paper in the office to cover the seat to make me feel comfortable about planting my ass anywhere near that so as I balanced and threw up a little in my mouth....I made the decision that someone with a penis is about to have a really fucking miserable day.

Let the investigation begin.........

Moving On

Well that last post was fun. I didn't think the little tramp would generate such debate. The comments have lasted longer than the relationship at this point.

Thank God.

So let's move on to something else. Like how fat I am getting.

Since I am now in my 40s, it seems like no matter what I do, the pounds stick to my ass like glue. I am trying to eat a bit better. Not great mind you but trying to make a few more healthy choices.

Which I thought I was doing until I started reading the labels on some of this stuff.

Did you know that there is more lemon in lemon pledge than in store brand lemonade? Next time you need some Vitamin C, you'd be better off licking your coffee table.

In addition, a bowl of regular lettuce has almost no nutritional value whatsoever...pouring your favorite dressing over the Sunday Times is practically the same thing. Well, maybe you'll absorb some knowledge with the paper.

Hey, all things being equal, it's worth a try!

Chocolate is good for you, sugar is bad, you're better off drinking red wine than whole milk and trimmed beef has just as many calories as chicken.

What the fucking fuck?

So basically I am better off with a dinner of wine, chocolate and a big juicy steak than lettuce, chicken and a glass of milk.

It will be a hardship but I think I can do that.