Thursday, July 30, 2009

You Stink Like Monkey Feet

I have a court date next week and decided that I needed a new spiffy business suit in order to look my very bestest.

No, it isn't the SCM murder trial, that is still yet to come when I finally blow the stinky bastard away. This is a case involving a past employee and it really is rather dull so I won't get into it more than that.

I'd rather write about my shopping experience which was way more annoying.

I usually have good luck at Macy's so I went there after work. I don't shop at night very often and now I know why.

It is when all the weirdos come out.

Macy's closes at 9. I arrived around 8 giving me an hour to try something on, decide I look too fat in it, throw it back on the hanger crooked and try something else on.


During one of my fitting room visits, I noticed a terrible odor coming from the stall next to mine.

Unmistakeably it was the scent of one of the worst cases of BO I have ever had the misfortune to sniff. Several things disturbed me about this but I think the major one was the woman was trying on clothing. Clothing that she probably won't buy and will be rehung to eventually be tried on by other people.


What kind of a person plans to go clothing shopping and doesn't make sure their pits have seen water that week? The person in the fitting room next to mine obviously. Doesn't she smell herself?! I can't imagine anyone could get used to that. At one point, I wished I had been purchasing towels so I could pile them up under the door to keep the fumes out.

I finally couldn't hold my breath any longer so decided on a suit and quickly exited the fitting room area. By this time it was about 8:50 and I proceeded to the register to pay. While standing there a woman dropped an arm full of clothes on the counter and asked the sales lady to watch them while she still shops.

"Would you like to try these on now? nice sales lady asked. "We're closing in a few minutes."

"No, I'll try everything on together when I finish shopping."

"I guess I'm working late," nice sales lady mumbled so only I could hear.

"Don't worry," I offered. "That fitting room smells like a possum rotting in the sun so she won't take very long."

I really hope she didn't.

Saturday, July 25, 2009

The Princess didn't make but three days at sleep away camp before I received
the phone call from the staff.

They usually give children a few more days to get over being homesick but the Princess refused to eat. I guess children starving to death doesn't look good on the happy camper website.

I arrived to pick her up and was met at the gate with the head honcho and the nurse. Both wanted me to "help" them talk her into staying.

I really did want the kid to have a good time and if she was just having a little adjustment problem, I told them I would be happy to assess the situation and not automatically take her home. I am not one of those parents who feel like if the kid committed to sleep away camp, they should tough it out even if homesick. The idea is to have fun, and if she isn't, I don't see the point of having her stay and be miserable.

When they brought her to me she seemed okay. She didn't burst into tears or anything. I told the nurse I would like to speak to her alone. For some reason she wasn't happy about this but left anyway.

I asked the Princess what she liked about camp and what she didn't like etc.

The weird part is that she was whispering..

I liked canoeing but that was about it. I didn't like the games and the kids in my tent are too loud. The food is fine but my tummy hurts all the time from being so upset and I can't eat. I really just want to go home. I miss you and don't like it here

As she was telling me this, she kept looking towards the door.

"Princess, why are you whispering?"

In my ear "They told me I have to tell you that I am having a great time and liked everything about camp but am just homesick"

My heart jumped when I heard this...

WTF? Do they work on commission?

Any thought of leaving her went out the window. I don't know what the hell their motivation was to do that but it was a bad choice. Telling a kid to lie to their parents?

She lost 6 pounds. The Princess is already underweight for her age and she essentially lost 15% of her body weight in three days.

I think they probably should have called me a tad sooner, don't you?

So she is happily home and I now have to figure out what to do with the little shit every day until school starts.

It's always something.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

As if I don’t have enough crazy people around me, I have recently become familiar with a family of freakin’ fruit loops. No, familiar doesn’t quite describe the relationship. I have recently been adopted as a BFF by the matriarch of a family that puts the D in Dysfunctional.

How did this happen you may wonder?

Fuck if I know. One minute this person is the mom of one of my daughter’s school friends and the next minute she is calling me and sending face book messages all day long.

Allow me to introduce you to the family I will refer to as the McMurpheys. (Kudos if you get the association with this chosen name).

Mrs McMurphey informed me within ten minutes of making her acquaintance that she suffers from Fibromyalgia. Now I am not going to get into a debate about whether or not this is a real disease. The AMA recognizes it so I will put aside my skepticism for the time being. I am only able to generalize about my first hand experience with Fibro people I know privately as well as professionally. Keep the hate mail to a minimum.

It seems to me that many people that claim to suffer from Fibromyalgia embrace it and share their suffering with anyone that will listen. I am well aware that Fibro has a psychological element but why these people have the need to use a condition to define themselves is beyond me.

“MY fibro this and MY fibro that”

Fortunately for all of us, many do have more free time on their hands and are generally helpful people. BUT they insist on letting everyone around them know how much harder it is for them to participate in bake sale or to organize the end of year teacher gift and how things may not go perfectly because of their debilitating disease that can rear its ugly head at any time.

Mrs McMurphey is the poster child of all the bad things associated with people that claim to have the ailment. She “can’t” work but manages to collect people.

All the better to listen to her tales of woe I would imagine.

Her house is full of clutter, dishes and smells like it needs a good airing out. Apparently she simply doesn’t have the energy to clean at all. I was a little embarrassed when she stepped out of the room one day (or climbed over the shit as the case may be) and her husband looked at me and said “I am sorry my wife is such a fucking slob”.

Not knowing what Emily Post would do in this particular situation I think I mumbled something about it not being that bad or resembling the aftermath of a nuclear bomb or something like that.

However, to each his own is generally my motto. Even if she is going to continue to be intrusive in my life, sooner or later, I’ll just tell her to fuck off and that will be that…

No, that isn’t the problem. The problem is really a serious one.

And I am serious about being serious. Unlike the times I say things are serious but I really have another smart ass thing to say.

I suspect she doesn’t get quite the rush and sympathy she requires from “HER” fibromyalgia and has labeled both of her kids with their own diseases.

Sally McMurphey supposedly has ADHD and Skippy McMurphy supposedly has Aspergers. I am not a doctor and I don’t claim to be one on TV but I have seen children with these two serious diagnoses and these kids are nothing like that. However, I think she said she shoves four or five pills per day into each child so maybe they are just wasted all the time.

At best, they have no discipline and Mrs McMurphy blames their behavioural problems on their illnesses. They are both loud, obnoxious and have no boundaries. One time Sally was playing with the princess and I was getting ready to take them to a movie. The little shit demanded I "hurry up". I calmly explained to her that if she ever spoke to me like that again she will not be invited back. And guess what? It has been yes ma'am and no ma'am ever since. Obviously she CAN control herself if she choses to do so.

The serious problem is I suspect Munchausen by proxy syndrome.

I know that is a serious accusation and I don’t think she is actually making the children sick. I think she is lying about their behavior to specialists in order to get the diagnoses and attention she desires. Also interesting to note is that they recently moved from another state and she often talks about how she is having problems getting her kids the extra attention they need in school because she can’t seem to get the medical or school records from her previous home state.

Of course my imagination is running wild with the thought that they had to move because people were on to them etc. etc.

What would you do with this suspicion if anything?

Sunday, July 12, 2009

Yesterday was the office’s annual summer picnic.

I awoke early, went out and purchased my food contribution, came home and promptly fell asleep until 5pm.


Anyone know what I can do with 50 half pints of Hagan Daz?

The fact that I missed this fucking thing is a big problem. The joke of the office is Chris never attends any events. Seeing that I am the boss and are forced to appoint people to organize these bullshit get togethers, I really should make an appearance.

Yet I simply do not want to. I have enough of these people Monday through Friday and in my free time, the last thing I want to do is to make small talk with folks I wouldn’t befriend if I met them outside the office. The only reason we have these events is the staff insists on them.

Personally, I would rather ask them to split the grand they cost and go shopping. Just leave me the fuck out of it.

You may think I am antisocial and you would be absolutely correct. I barely have the time or inclination to talk to the people I like let alone those I don’t. As a matter of fact, if it weren’t for text messaging, I would have lost the few close friends I do have long ago. One of the prerequisites for being my friend is to not expect to hear from me often and still remember I love you to death. I takes a strong person to hang in there and for those that do..big smooches all around. My ideal down time is a good book either on ipod or paperback, (Kindle is the devil's invention) my fluffy pillow, a glass of merlot and complete silence.

The problem is I actually have fun when I do hang out with people I like. I have fun, they have fun which leads to being invited again.

And I would love to do that.

In six or eight months.

To make matters worse are the obligatory hangs. Those are the ones with the princess’s friend’s parents or SCM band wives.

Ummm, yuck.

First of all, I am at least ten years older than the other parents and have zero in common with them. The shit they are going through, I did with number one son a dozen or so years ago. On top of that, they are mostly SAHMs which is one of the situations that come with sending your child to private school. Dad makes some good buckage and Mom gets to make healthy lunches and sit on the side line at soccer practice. I do not have that luxury.

Two situations come into mind that threw me for a loop. The first was when I had a birthday party for the princess at my home. A dad attended that had the reputation for buddying up to the other fathers that had lucrative careers. Looking around my home admiringly, he asked what my husband did. When I explained he is a part time musicians that does odd jobs, he looked perplexed and walked away. I really believe to this day it never occurred to him that I am the one that supports the household.

The other was when my son was being evaluated for a learning disability by a psychologist. We were talking about his background and his relationship with his father. When I told him the relationship was shaking at best, he commented that his father must be pretty active in his life to be willing to pay for private school. Ummm, no. Those checks are written by yours truly.

I guess two situations in ten years isn’t a trend but it really does say that some of us are still back in Ozzy and Harriett days of America.

Hmmmm, and how the hell did I jump to the social economic changes of the dynamics of the family unit in the twenty first century?

Afterall, what I really need to know is what the fuck I am going to do with all this ice cream!

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Monday, July 6, 2009

Talkin' Trash

Today the adult son of my next door neighbor commented upon how rich I must be to use my preferred brand of laundry detergent. Now I know Tide with Downy isn't quite as cheap as Gator Suds but the real question is, how did he know what kind of laundry soap I use in the first place? Proudly he explained that he rummages through the neighborhood trash each Sunday night looking for things to sell on Ebay.

Well,what more can you expect from a man who's divorce settlement included a bar tab.

He went down his mental list of all the things he has scavenged the past few months including two computer monitors he was able to repair, some "vintage" board games and four or five bags of clothing. (Those I suspect were left out for last month's annual clothing drive for the poor but whatever).

The trick is, I was informed, to open the bags inside the trash cans because most pickers overlook that.

I find this behaviour a bit creepy. I never considered myself possessive regarding my trash but somehow someone going through my collection of egg shells and snot rags skeeves me out a tad. I don't mind if someone drives by and picks up stuff by the a matter of fact, I furnished my first college apartment by that very method... but I disapprove of the opening up of garbage pails and the bags within looking for treasures.

So I ask this, my friends...when do you consider your trash a free for all for people to do what they will and take what they want?

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Vacation Again?

I didn't mention that I was going on vacation yet again. You kids are worse than my employees ragging me on always taking time off to go hither tither and yon. The difference is my leaving them is actually a cause for celebration. Not once has any of my fine staff mentioned that they would rather I stay because they miss my soft fluttering voice and mild manner ways when I am absent.

You folks inquire about my potential demise at the hands of SCM when I disappear which although a tad macabre is most appreciated.

Currently I am on Marcos Island for the week. Unfortunately when I packed I neglected to include Hurricane gear which would have come in very handy. Although not technically a hurricane with one of those benign sounding names that still manage to kick the shit out of anything in their path, it is still very windy and by no means beach weather.

As you can see from the photos, I don't think the pool chairs were gingerly placed in the bushes in the event some nature lover felt the need to bond with the lizards and other tropical creatures.

The sun is out this morning and we are going to try to battle the 20 mile per hour wind gusts in an attempt to fight our way to the gulf front. We are nothing if not persistent.