Why aren't I on a cruise ship in the Gulf of Mexico with a rum drink in one hand and a slot machine arm in the other?
Oh, yeah, because life sucks and then you die a slow and painful death alone.
Have a Happy Thanksgiving.
This year I had planned to blow off hanging with my crazy extended family on Thanksgiving and go on a cruise. Obviously from my whining, that did not happen. Due to some medical problems and insurance copays higher than Keith Richards on tour, I am broke, busted and tapped out. The only boat that I can afford is a plastic bath toy piece of shit from Wally World.
Even that I would need to put on lay-a-way.
However, shit happens and since I bailed on Thanksgiving in advance, I assumed my family would have made other plans.
And they did.
My sister, her partner and their daughter went to Georgia to visit friends.
My brother decided to host Thanksgiving for his family and my parents at his house.
My son was going to Fort Lauderdale for a friend's engagement party on Friday so he decided to make a long weekend of it.
So I opted to not go to my brother's house but just have a quiet Thanksgiving with just my daughter and I. Maybe go out to eat or simply cook a small bird to have leftovers.
When my mother found out I wasn't going away, she decided that she didn't really want to go ALL THE WAY (30 minutes) to my brothers house since my father was going to have to work, so I said I would make a small bird and my daughter and I would bring dinner to her house.
Monday, my son decided that he didn't really have enough money for the extra days in a hotel so he would be joining us.
No problem, my little sad turkey breast wasn't going to be enough now so I went out and bought a ten pound turkey.
On Tuesday, a friend of mine that is battling breast cancer, said she really did not feel up to cooking so of course I invited her. I then switched the location to my house.
Tuesday night she told me that her son is going to be in town, would it be okay if she brought him. Fine I said mentally trying to determine if I needed a bigger turkey.
Today she called and said that her nephew and his wife showed up as a surprise from out of town and would I mind.....
Last but not least, my mother just called and informed me that my father has the afternoon off so he will be joining us for dinner.
I am hosting a Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow for nine people.
I am waiting for a phone call from my son saying he is bringing a date.
Whatever you do, I hope it is fun, happy and joyous.
But if it involves a cruise ship, I don't want to hear about it.
I have some very important advice for you kewl kids...
If you decide to date someone with a similar name as your last partner, do not list them next to each other in your phone. Sending text messages to the wrong one can lead to some pretty intense back pedaling followed by awkward silences. Those silence can and often do lead to being shown one half of a peace sign through a car window and a mouthing of either fuck you or you're wonderful in every way.
I couldn't quite make it out.
I will say that I kinda dig dating someone that calls me out on my bullshit. It is refreshing to actually be told that I just happened to have screwed up big time and it was totally unacceptable. Even in four letter words and hand gestures.
What I can't stand is the silences and pouting that some gentleman excel at disguised as wanting to avoid conflict.
Does that actually work for anyone?
At my ripe age of..errrrrr...29, I don't know what I want in a man. Well, besides a lot of sex and a big...car. I do know what I don't want. I don't ever want to have to guess what someone else is thinking or feeling. That is the most manipulative thing a person can do. Also, a man who would rather pout than say what he thinks should take a Midol because he is already acting like a woman so he may as well bleed from the crotch like one.
Do I want to be told to go fuck myself? Well, not every day but there is something to be said for being direct about your feelings even if that does involve words you can't say in front of Nana.
Now I really need to change that damn address book because I can't take having to apologize more than once a month. My ego simply won't allow me to admit to be wrong that much.
I received thirty emails today between 12pm and 2pm in regards to an ad I put on Craigslist...
Which specifically stated not to email me.
I guess these thirty are special snowflakes that couldn't imagine I could possibly mean THEM when I said no emails!
I recently purchased a new dishwasher. Due to the fact I am lazy and didn't want to deal with a bunch of emails, I decided not to attempt to sell the old one but simply list it in the FREE section of Craigslist with its description and my address to come pick the fucker up.
I couldn't believe the questions these people asked. It was like they were buying the darn thing. Actual quotes...
"Does it have any scratches because I don't want anything with scratches."
"Can you please deliver it and install it? I am a single mother and could really use it."
"If I pick it up and it doesn't work, I am bringing it back to you. I don't need other people's junk"
and my favorite...
"Do you happen to know the energy rating?"
At 2:15, I pulled the ad. My son asked if he was willing to deal with the phone calls and emails, if he could sell it and keep the money. I agreed. Just make the darn thing go away.
He sold it for 50 dollars within an hour and they just picked it up.
I do believe I live in the most fucked up community in the world.
I say I think because after three glasses of sparkling wine on top of four percocets, I don't even remember what I did today.
Except whatever it was, it sucked.
Better living through chemistry.
But certainly not better recalling...
Anyway, I can recall enough to share that Ms Stink Ass didn't say a word about the note but I was informed that she was as rancid as usual today.
Happy happy joy joy.
So what I have been doing all week is moving people to different offices in order to accomodate one stinky old lady. Good thing my education dollar is getting good use.
I am going to pass out now. I did have a date but I didn't think I am particularly at my best tonight. You know you're better off at home when you think "if that fucking dipshit texts or calls one more time, I am going to shove the phone up his ass." Since I like him, I would probably dip it in a little olive oil first.
Personal logic is a thought that seems totally indisputably correct to you but another person may think you are out of your mind for actually considering such a thing.
Such as the fact that when you take a pint of Eddys Max out of the freezer, it should be consumed in its entirety.
Wearing brown shoes with a black belt is an error of epic proportion.
So when I overhead some bat shift crazy soccer mom critiquing her ex husband for pulling the kids out of school three days early to take them to Washington DC for Thanksgiving, I had a sudden urge to shove a drum stick up her tight little ass.
This bitch was HORRIFIED that her precious snot dripping, swine flu carrying, ass crusty twerps would miss drawing a misshapen tree in art class or skip the spelling test that, while witnessing that gene pool, the little dumbass would have failed anyway.
This shrew went on and on to her black root friend in the express lame (with twenty two items mind you) of how Jr's entire future is at stake and he may not be able to get into the McDonalds training program to follow the rest of the clan into the family business.
I just don't get why someone would be so up in arms over a kid missing a few days of school for a memory that will last a lifetime.
Then again, my kids didn't spend four long hard years in the third grade.
I had one of those cringe moments on Friday night. As I was being taken to dinner at Wolfgang Pucks in Downtown Disney Friday night, we passed the big dome that is where Cirque du Soleil's 'La Nouba' takes place.
I have never had any desire to see that show nor any of the others. Due to the fact that there is often no censure button between brain and mouth, I said so.
Lo and behold, guess what was planned for the remainder of the evening? Yeah...oops. Try back peddling from that faux pax.
Actually the show was pretty good and we ended up inadvertently part of it which was also pretty kewl.
There is a lesson to be learned here but since I haven't learned it in my 40 plus years, it is probably too late.
Since I still owe you kids the story from Friday, I will comply for the few minutes I have before going back to Disney to take the kid and her friend to the art show taking place this weekend.
Friday afternoon, one of my doctors came into my office and shut the door.
Since he is a notorious gossip, I perked up with interest knew it wasn't going to be anything of great importance.
And it wasn't. But boy did it piss me off.
"I just had lunch with one of the anesthesiologists we work with and she informed me that one of our part time employees that also works for them on occasion invited their entire group and support staff to our Christmas party."
Somewhere in the neighborhood of a dozen or so people.
ONCE a year I plan a special event for the staff and their significant others. But good food, good music, and good booze tends to be very expensive.
Now I find this part time 21 year old file clerk has just increased my guest list by 25%.
Not being one to fly off the handle...
Okay, flying off the handle, I sent her a text message through her mother who works for me full time but was out sick Friday.
"Did Cindy invite Jane and her team to our Christmas party by chance?"
Five minutes go by, ten, fifteen and then all hell breaks lose. My phone starts beeping with text messages faster than I can read them.
This was the first one..
Chris, I wasn't aware that I couldn't invite extra people to the party. Since I worked there I thought I could".
Well, dumb ass, let someone else do the thinking. Someone that does it far better than you which includes most of the human race.
Before I had a chance to answer, it was followed by an apology and a request that I don't blame her mother. On and on they went until I read this....
Don't worry, I called Jane and told her I made a mistake and you said they couldn't come."
Do you know what is worse than inviting someone to a party that you aren't hosting?
I need to fix this disaster Monday and I am sooo looking forward to it.
I don't know why I am surprised. This crotch dropping comes from the same mother that when she and her husband was invited to the CEO's black tie wedding reception at the priciest hotel in Orlando, responded that EIGHT will be attending.
I don't recall in my job description being informed that I had to teach manners to forty year olds and their kids.
Long and faithful readers may remember my posting an entry around Christmas a couple of years back about tacky people inviting friends and family to our holiday party. I thought I had clearly explained what you and a guest are cordially invited actually means.
The invitations have yet to go out and I already have an issue. Sorry but I am to busy shoving the tissue back in my head from my brain exploding so you kids will have to wait for the complete story.
Why do I have two closets completely packed with clothes and can't find a g-d damn thing to wear tomorrow night?
I thought I would be so smart planning ahead so I won't be rushed after work getting ready for my sushi date. My bedroom looks like the walk in regurgitated jeans, skirts, blouses and shoes and I still keep flinging things off in exasperation.
It is probably a mood thing. I have a headache, my daughter is Miss Chatty Cathy tonight and I have yet to clean up the dinner dishes. It is hard to feel beautiful on the outside when you have ugliness battling to escape on the inside.
Anyone else ever feel this way?
I think my jeans will look much better if I have few beers. If not, I probably won't give a shit either way.
Not being fond of most animals, human beings included, I find this phenomenon very weird.
My little yappy dog, Maxwell, has just turned four and doesn't appear to be outgrowing his attachment. Actually, it appears to be getting worse. I already deal with the fact that he has a breathing attack most days when I get home. His excitement triggers his collapsed trachea abnormality and he will struggle for breath until he calms down.
Or passes out whichever comes first.
He follows me around the house like a..well..puppy dog and must be in the same room I am at all times. If SCM dares to try to pick him up in my presence, Maxwell will fight and snap until he lets him down to stand guard over me. He waits outside of the bathroom when I am in there and sleeps on my bed when I am alone and under it when SCM has invited himself for a visit.
In my ignorance, I thought Maxwell, along with the spare dog, just napped and played during the day when I was at the office. I have discovered this is not the case. Evidentially, the dog howls and cries all day long until I get home.
How did I find out he does this? I was left a little neighborgram taped to my door.
Hmmm. Well, we learned two things from this note. One, the dog cries and howls all day. Two, Bill can not spell. Since I can't control the latter, I figure I bet get a handle on the former.
I checked with SCM to find out if he was aware of this. After all, he is often home during the day.
"Sure, he has always done that. The minute you leave until you get home. I throw him out because it drives me crazy."
Good plan. Subject the neighbors to the torture so you don't have to deal with it.
I checked some dog message boards run by obsessive people that refer to their dogs as their "babies" and themselves as "mommy and daddy" and I was advised to get the maladjusted furry thing to a doggy shrink. But BY NO MEANS am I to drug the animal.
This morning I called the vet to make an appointment to get Maxwell on some doggy tranquilizes to chill the fuck out.
What is good for me is certainly good enough for my dog.
I work in the medical field in a business capacity. Basically this means I don't have to deal with bat shit crazy patients on a regular basis.
Or any basis if it is a good day.
Occasionally I get called into the trenches to toss someone for being nasty to the staff or call 911 for a junky that thought my office would provide them with their abused prescription drug of choice.
Mostly though I crunch numbers and yell at my staff.
Yesterday was one of those days I wish I had gone to work in a safe boring accountanting firm.
The day started when I walked through a full waiting room having my usual sing songy good mornings greeted with an uncomfortable silence usually reserved for people that have been waiting a while and are losing patience.
Now I know that a medical facility isn't people's favorite place to visit on a Monday morning but the vibe was really off. My bad feeling intensified when I saw a couple of police officers milling around the place talking to the staff.
I grabbed the first employee I passed to inquire what the fuck was going on.
"We had an incident".
Ahhh, an incident. I see.
No I didn't.
"Could you be more specific?"
My office opens at 6:30 each morning to perform procedures. Generally all patients are either in recovery or discharged by the time I get in around 8:30. It was clear due to the twenty five or thirty people in the waiting room that it wasn't working that way today. Apparently a mother of an adult patient wanted to observe her son's procedure. No one noticed her following behind the nurse pushing the wheelchair until she entered the sterile environment with street clothes and sneakers.
(Yes, my staff is super observant.)
Everything could have been quickly rectified if the Mom had followed the nurse out like she was instructed to do.
Nope. Wasn't going to happen. She wasn't going anywhere. She wouldn't allow anyone in or out either.
One of the physician assistants attempted to open the door and was told..
"You aren't going anywhere tubby"
(Yes, I did burst out laughing at this part of the story. Bad Chris.)
So, as I was in Starbucks having a yummy mocha frappuccino, my staff was being held hostage by a crazy person.
One of the techs pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. Fortunately, before the police could arrive the son talked Mom down and they both ended up leaving the premises. I spent the rest of the morning with the police filling out forms to press charges.
The patient called back later that afternoon to see if he could reschedule. I gladly referred him to the competition.
I attended a birthday dinner last night for someone who is right around my age. She was telling me how much she is looking forward to 50 in a few years and how liberating it will be.
What. The. Fuck?
To me, that is like looking forward to the root canal because you really dig the Nitrous oxide.
No. Just No.
Men can look forward to 50. They can look forward to that distinguished look of gray around the temples and experience lines around their eyes. They get to feel relieved that the kids are gone and they can now spend their money on green fees and sports cars that they look ridiculous driving.
But women? Women can only look forward to more trips to the salon the cover the gray, painful botox injections and buying shoe inserts to go in the pumps that make our legs look great but irritate that fucking bunion that just appeared one day.
Yes, my friend does have the right attitude. She is secure in her relationship, secure in her head and ready for the next adventure in life.
Me? I have yet to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. The thought of finding peace where my head is at now is like being happy that I got half way through a 10,000 piece jigsaw puzzle and giving up and putting the pieces back in the box.
NO! I say. NO! I am going to finish that freakin' thing even if it is all black pieces and I am going to glue it together and put it on the wall of the old folks home.
But for now, I am going to continue to sort out the straight pieces so I can at least finish the outside.
In my mind's eye, I should have been through with all my current office bullshit and should be dealing with another office's bullshit by now. After all these years I am still smacking around the same people, listening to the same grumbles and have the same few brown nosers kissing my ass.
I know this is turning into a work blog and that wasn't my intention. Like Seinfield reruns, this blog is supposed to be about nothing. However, I do need to vent and what better a place than at the kewl kid's table with a captive audience?
Ms. BB has been back one week and I noticed I wasn't getting the amount of output from the gal I hired to take over her job. When I inquired, it appeared that Ms. BB decided that since SHE wasn't able to work that hard having someone else do it made her look bad. So she divided the work among three people.
Yes, it is true. The woman that I have gone through so much trouble to keep due to her work ethic was instructed to slow down so others have more work. Of course when I asked Ms. BB what she was thinking I got the same deer in the headlights look that I have been receiving since 1998. She doesn't even attempt to make excuses but looks at me with a stupid expression that says.."snagged"...and she waits for me to tell her what she already knows. What actually should be happening.
In the meantime, I laid in bed last night trying to come up with a solution to Ms. BB and her intense odor problem. (Instead of being laid in bed which would have been a lot more fun.) I think I managed to work it out that she would have an office to herself which is really quite annoying. Forget to bathe and you get your own private office. I wonder if I'd have to make her a VP if she stops wearing her dentures?
She did tell me this happy news this morning.
"Chris, I am here to stay. I am not going to be able to retire until I am dead."
No sooner do I finally think I've got everyone settled into their new offices without blood shed, I hear a tentative knock on my door.
Before I have time to hide under my desk, one of the secretaries came in and asked to talk.
This particular employee was only affected by the changes in that she was given a new office mate. Unfortunately, it was Ms. BB of stinky bowel movement fame. Unbeknownst to me, I was informed she also has other hygiene problems. To put it the same way as my visitor...
"She smells like ass."
So now I either need to move this doodie stinkin', ass smelling, dandruff flaking, BO environment polluting old bag somewhere alone or I need to figure out how to tell a woman 35 years my senior, that soap and water are our friends.
Welcome to another Wednesday addition of Fun Site Friday! This week I have two of them for you to check out...
The first is a site, Etiquette Hell, is dedicated to point out the bad manners that exist all around us. There are some really great stories but be forewarned, you may get addicted to them and there are hundreds and hundreds to read. There is also a link to the blog on the main site if you didn't get your fix of white trash weddings and red neck baby showers.
The second and one of my favorites is the Things I Learned From My Patients message board. It was started in 2003 to recount outrageous stories of emergency room situations and has been added to ever since. Another site to kill a bunch of time if you're say....at work or doing something equally unimportant.
Have a fun day and remember, please pass on your favs in the comments. I am at work too.
I have discovered it is extremely difficult to run a small company and still manage to stalk an ex boyfriend effectively. I know we all have to prioritize in this busy no nonsense world, but what does one do when one’s tasks seem equally important?
I could be a responsible and efficient business woman making proactive decisions regarding the future of an extreme lucrative healthcare business
I could work on not being spotted while following his vehicle, cleverly swiping and returning his mail to check for love letters and dressing for success in outfits of green with brown prints to blend in with the shrubbery around his house.
When your ten year old daughter tells you that you have a small uneven section on the back of your hair, do not hand her the scissor and tell her to snip it off.
As I frantically beg to be worked in for a hair appointment this afternoon, I will update you kids on my solution to the office political bullshit from hell. As some of you may remember from this post..(go check, I'll wait), I wasn't quite sure how to work out a system to keep everyone employed and still do what is good for the company. After changing job descriptions of six employees, I was able to juggle the staff so that everyone still has a job. Of course no one is thrilled. They don't realize that for a few of them it was change jobs or be let go. I can tolerate some grumbling but I did have to come down on one gal Friday and inform her that if she doesn't like it, she can leave.
She did show up this morning and so far as kept her pie hole shut.
The hardest part of the entire thing was meeting individually with these people to discuss the changes. Some people did end up losing hours and that is a hard thing to have to deal with. However, times are tough and I refuse to behave like a big nameless corporation that puts profit over people. Cut and slash would have been the most cost efficient but I do need to sleep at night and would rather not sleep with one eye opened.
Have a great week kiddos.
52 days until Christmas.
I'll put up my wish list soon to give you all plenty of time to shop.
In case you kids thought half nekkid Thursday came early this week...
This is a story that requires a visual.
Yesterday morning I took the brat to her skating lesson like I do every Saturday (and Monday, and Wednesday but that is my own tale of woe...). I usually run to the store during her lessons and come back just in time to pick her up. Yesterday I just had a quick errand so I was back with still almost a hour left to the Princess's lesson.
Being the last day of the month, I had to go to the desk and pay for next month's lessons so I proceeded to do so. As I was paying the owner, I noticed him looking very interested at my blouse. I followed his gaze and OH SHIT! I was totally unbuttoned with my lace bra visual to all. I quickly did myself up, laughed a little embarrassed laugh and handed over the money for the lessons.
I have seen this owner every time I have come in for six months now. He is in his late thirties, early forties, basic looking dude. Not once has he said a word to me. Never other than a brisk thank you when I forked over my dough.
I walked back into the chill of the skating arena and I noticed someone trailing me. I stood at the wall and peered through the fogged up plastic barrier looking for Anna and her coach. I glanced over and the owner is standing besides me attempting to make small talk inquiring as to what was on the ipod I was listening too and explaining his taste in music and what bands he has seen.
Apparently..boobies make perfect strangers into good friends.
I answered his questions politely with a blow off air and after a few more tries of starting up another subject, he turned and left.
It is kind of creepy knowing a stranger was spankin' the ole monkey to my lace undergarments last night.