help! i've fallen...

and i looked like a class 'A' dumbass doin' it...

OMG

i'm on my way up to the fax machine to fax some invoices, reviewing them as i go. next thing i know, i'm airborne, with one of the office ladies yelling, "Oh my God!"

i'm on all fours, trying to figure out wtf just happened, and there's a group of front office people standing around me.

"Are you alright? Did you hit your head? Can you stand up? It sure looked like you hit your head. Just sit there for a few minutes."

so I sat. because my fat ass frickin' hurt. apparently I caught the edge of the mat with my sandal, propelled forward and (without dropping the invoices, I might add *smirk*) somehow managed to get my right arm up in front of me just a split second before i would have went head-first into the brass handle on a wooden cabinet door. of course, this stopped me dead in my flight, and gravity took over. from there, it was straight down onto both bent knees. nice. i'm just thinking to myself, "don't pass out, dipshit, you're on your period and you do NOT want to deal with waking up in the hospital knowing someone had to undress you in the ER. yea. this is my luck.

meanwhile, one of the office guys (who's a huge prankster) went in to the HR/Safety guy's office and told him i fell. he said, "yea, ok."

background: for the last month i have been tripping over the rugs in the office like crazy. for some reason the edges bubble up and i must have bubble-magnets in all my shoes. usually i just skip a step or two and i'm good. of course, i always tell the HRS guy i nearly killed myself and i should write up a first incident report of injury. he just laughs.

not today. today he tells me later he wasn't even going to come out when he heard it was me. he figured i put the prankster up to it and it took the prankster telling him, "no i'm serious" before he would come out of his office. he comes up front, sees me still sitting on the floor, and STILL thinks we're screwing with him.

mmm--kay... now i just want to get through this mortifying moment where everyone in the tri-county area has come up to see who got hurt, go back to my desk and lick my wounds. pride tastes like shit, btw. HRS guy says we need to fill out a report. i just look at him and ask him why bother this time?

so i hobbled back to my desk where i could feel everything starting to seize up in the air conditioning. fabulous. i'm trying to figure out how to gracefully put my left boob BACK into my bra without anyone noticing - yea, i went forward so fast and hard, i came out of my bra. oh for the love of all that's holy, just frickin' shoot me.

my boss was extremely upset. he was on the phone and didn't get to see it happen. asswipe. he said now that they knew i wasn't seriously injured that they were glad i wasn't hurt.

i told him, "so, what you're saying is you're glad i didn't get hurt because who would be here to do the shit work?"

"well, yea."

ugh. i was starting to feel it, and i was getting grumpy. no ot for me tonight. i was straight outta there at 5 o'clock.

on the upside, i got a fabulous haircut last night. nothing like a little salon pampering with christian to make a bad day better. he was amused by my story, made all the better because he kept dropping stuff.. 2 combs, a bottle of something else. we were picking on each other pretty good. heh.

then junior comes be-boppin in from college classes, and muscles in on my haircut time. hel-looo, you two... don't be talking about her haircolor strategy and cut options... this is about me. mememememe.

we finish up and head out into the mall, looking fabulous, of course. over to the pretzel place to grab a quick bite and sit and chat for a few minutes to catch up on the week... it was a very cool moment.

this morning, however, it was not so cool. my knee hurts so bad, i couldn't turn over in bed, and when i tried to get up this morning to use the bathroom, i ended up on all fours trying to figure out how i was going to get my silly ass up so i didn't pee myself in the middle of the floor. i've got a not-so-sexy limp now, and if i sit for any length of time, my knee locks. great. another day in paradise...

ms b rawks, but she don't roll no more. she just lays like a lump. :(

Where Was I?

Oh yea.

Foul.

*sigh*

For two days, I have had limited contact with the "real" world. (As opposed to my daily non-contact with the real world.) I was buried in spreadsheets at work, trying to maintain the daily stuff, prepare the data for the upgrade, forecast and follow my schedule while being subjected to others' pig-headed non-action, and listening to my boss's inane ramblings of personal crap.

Yep, I'm in a swing where it's safer for humanity if I just stay away from everyone. The low end is near when my sense of humor disappears. Most days I am witty, amusing, verbose. These days I just let people know "I'm foul." They usually back away slowly, and have learned to not jest with me on these days. What would normally be fodder for good back-and-forth verbal sparring becomes the basis for those "Are you fucking serious?" looks and occasional acid remarks spoken in passing. Even I am amazed at my lack of usual patience with people.

Ugh. I hope it lifts soon. I believe it will; the sense of humor reared its ugly head this afternoon. One of the rail hotties (my age group, yes, married, 3 really adorable little girls, blah blah blah) was in talking to my boss today about which trailers needed loaded and was asking about where he could get some firewood. His brother is in town tonight (on short leave-they are both NG) and he wanted to have a bonfire and enjoy the evening.

"I just need enough wood for one night."

Yea. I know. I must be coming back around because I could. not. help. myself. I didn't even look up from my keyboard.

"Me too."

Now, this fella has pretty much the same crude sense of humor as I. He was dyin'.

"Um, I'm thinking in your case, plastic will do. Rubber?"

"Hell, wax at this point."

He was talking about it back in the scale room later when I was in there. "Hope ya find enough wood for the weekend." This prompted a comment from the not-so-professional Office Manager. *sigh*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

So anyhow... where was I?

Software upgrade. Live date: December 1. Did I mention that this particular operation is precariously supported by a few well-designed (tyvm) spreadsheets, and bookkeeping software that is as old as my youngest girl? Seriously. It's DOS based. If you don't know what that is, you are far too young to be reading this blog. My boss doesn't want to "fix what's not broken," so is passively-aggressively stalwarting my efforts to pull this off on time, in budget. Meanwhile, I'm triple-entering everything to keep up, plus cleaning up the customer files, the accounts receivables, and the directions. He enters a dozen loads into the spreadsheet and acts like I should kiss his ass for doing what he should be doing in the first place.

Argh. The last two days, I have had difficulty being pleasant with him.
Background: The company is family-owned by mom/dad/3 brothers/1 sister, yet extremely well-run. He is one of the brothers. No one in the family has ever been divorced. Strong family, everyone pitches in, helps each other, blah blah blah. Well, over the last few months, he and his wife have been not getting along so well. She's bi-polar, and dealing with some painful past issues. He's a chauvinistic pig who thinks he should be waited on hand and foot. After 22 years of dealing with being the perfect wife, perfect mom, and perfect daughter-in-law, she's finally breaking.

Example: He told someone in the office that after she had their third child, he brought her into the office because she needed to go back to work because she was getting fat. He said he was joking. Now, after child number four, she has a figure that I would be happy to have. She's a very pretty lady. He is a toad.

So, he's been very quiet about the situation lately. Last week on Monday, she left him, so he took the rest of the week off. He came into work Friday afternoon in shorts and sandals, talking about how he'd cleaned the house, did laundry, worked out, took a nap, and was running errands, and it was no big deal.

Um, yea fucknut. But you also took 4 vacation days, and did nothing else. Here's a thought. Do all that AND work full time AND have 4 children to run after AND have someone expect to be waited on by you hand and foot AND have someone that wants you to have sex every night after they tell you how worthless you are AND know that same someone talks trash about you at work in front of strangers and family.

I can't believe she stayed this long. Supposedly they're "working it out." Now, I don't advocate divorce, unless there's abuse. Of course, from the perspective of a divorced person, I suppose it's easier looking in from the outside. What I see is that "it's all her fault, and I shouldn't have to change because I am man and therefore right." *beating of chest* yak. But really, I don't want to hear about it. I don't. It's not that I don't feel for him. Being in a bad marriage is difficult. I do not want to be perceived as being "a friend" *wink wink nod nod* because that drama I do not need. It's not that I don't care - usually I care too much and I have been trying to distance myself from unhealthy boundaries - but I don't. care. Just help me get this company into the 21st century. This is about me. Me me me. I will probably never be married again. So your "poor me" attitude about having someone around to share the burdens of life, talk to when good or bad things happen, knowing they are there for everything, not just being fuckbuddies just doesn't sit well with me.

*pity rant on*
Apparently I am one of those people who lotsa people think are cool for various reasons, fun to hang with, fuckable, but not a long-term prospect. I don't want "friends." I have enough friends.
*pity rant off*

~*~*~*~*~*~*~
So where was I?

Oh yea. On top of the software upgrade comes a major bid process for one of the customers. This bid is to be done online and through the internet - final date 10-28. Yep, you got it. Right smack in the middle of the software upgrade. So, of course, I am doing the major work in formatting, because my boss is computer illiterate. He has no concept. My deadline is coming up, and he needs to get me some numbers, but he has this attitude with this company because everything has to be their way, and he should just tell them to go screw themselves... yada yada yada.

STFU and get me my numbers so we don't lose the lanes simply because you're pissy.

~*~*~*~*~

where was I? Oh yea, project number 3... setting up invoicing with same major company via EDI. Well, quasi EDI. I have to update our load spreadsheet. Key in this information to the invoicing software to generate an invoice, and then transfer this information to a spreadsheet layout to email to an intermediary company who then formats it and sends it EDI. So, I'm actually doing more work than I did before, but now saving two pieces of paper, an envelope and 42 cents postage for each invoice to this one company. Help me out here.

~*~*~*~

Classes. Ahhh, sweet learning. Intellectual stimulation. Enjoying my cyber warfare class, but struggling to keep up-why I don't know. I love this stuff.

Excelling at my History of Native American class-why I don't know. I apparently love this stuff more than I thought I would.

16 week classes condensed into 8. Once those end, 2 more begin for the final 8 weeks of the semester. All spring and summer I fought with Financial Aid to get my information in so I could take classes while I wasn't busy. Now, I can't get any busier, and here we are. Chaos as normalcy.

~*~*~*~*~*~
Miss Pickle is doing well... considering. She's busy. Senior year. 3 College level classes, band, choir, show-choir, 2 part time jobs, boyfriend in the Navy. Okay, he's a recruit, graduation 10-24, THEN he'll be in the Navy.

Her father is still a putz.

Her aunt got married last weekend. I've known this woman since she was about 2. (She's 13 years younger than I.) I was invited before the court drama unfolded. Of course, both my daughters are in the wedding, so why not?

I actually had a date for this wedding. I know, crazy. Had being the operative. Something unavoidable came up mid-week, and I was then dateless. I did not have the heart or the energy to search out a replacement. Which was fine, because I got to sit with my oldest girl's pre-fiancee, but more on that later.

I show up at the church where Pickle's father and I had planned at one time to get married. The same church where the last time I set foot in it, I was attending someone else's wedding, and was 3 1/2 months pregnant with my oldest. I thought it would bother me more. Hell, I thought it would bother me. I'm seeing a few familiar faces. Names are not coming to me. I sit in the pew next to Ace (the oldest girl's man) and we start chatting. I point out certain key people to him; he tells me how he's been there since noon and it's been a really long day, and about the rehearsal dinner.

This is good. At the rehearsal, Pickle's dad is overheard telling someone that he doesn't understand why she is singing at the wedding. She's ok, but not that good. *urge to slug* What a dick. She sounded fantastic! Everyone was amazed. Even I, as much as I hear her, am awed every time I see her perform. He was talking to his girlfriend and playing with his son the whole time. Jackass. What I thought was strange was that none of them were actually watching her. (I was sitting two rows behind them.) I found out later, why.

At school, Pickle talked to one of her brothers last week. Apparently he made mention of it at home, and was bitched at for an hour and told not to talk to her. So now, he doesn't talk to her at school. She has been ostracized by her father because she chose to live with me for the last year of high school. So the other kids are not allowed to have any contact with her whatsoever. No speaking, nothing. How is that healthy? I don't have anything to do with the brothers, but I've always encouraged her relationship with them. The sins of the parents should not be taken out of the child.

So we're watching everyone walk up the aisle. Her dad has a rather large bald spot now. I told Ace that Jackass had told me once that if I got fat he'd divorce me, and I told him if he went bald I'd divorce him. I laughed and said I'd saved myself the whole problem by not marrying him in the first place.

We were so inappropriate. Making fun of people, giggling. I had a lot of fun at this wedding. How many times to you hear someone say THAT?

The ushers (Jackass and another family member) were to unroll the carpet for the bride. They grabbed the strings, and nothing. So they had to lean over and push it. They both got up, red-faced and decided that they were going to kick it down the aisle. However, this had to be done lop-sided because both of them together were wider than the aisle. So one would kick, the other would move ahead and kick, etc etc. Graceful.

The bride was beautiful. :) The dresses were elegant. The ring bearers looked like little mafia hitmen. Then outside to blow bubbles at the couple. I saw a few faces of people I hadn't seen in almost 20 years. It was difficult to place some of them, because apparently I have aged better than I thought. They all knew me. I had to keep repeating, "So sorry, the face is familiar, but the name escapes me."

Off to the reception hall. Tastefully decorated. Floating candles, which Ace managed to extinguish when he bumped the table. So we moved. Same scenario. I was not moving again. We dried out the candles and re-lit them. Ace was stellar. Ran interference for me when we were in line for the buffet and had to go right past Jackass' table. Went and got me drinks so I wouldn't have to go past them. He did good.

And then, ugh, they were calling out the single women to catch the boquet. I stood back by the entrance and just waited for the show to pass. And then... the frickin' groom came walking towards me, and dragged me out onto the floor. Bastard. Upside, my oldest girl caught the boquet. Of course, I had no chance because 1) she was blocking and tackling everyone in her way, and 2) kinda hard to catch when you are standing with feet planted, arms firmly at the side, and backing away as the flowers are thrown.

Well, even more fun. Ace caught the garter. Nice. So I stood by as Ace had to put the garter ON Junior in front of the whole hall. After we got back to the table I told him he better marry her after taking that liberty with her in front of all those people. He laughed and said he was sure it was a setup.

Well, the bride and groom got pleasantly drunk, lost their keys, and somehow my Jeep ended up carrying a lot of the stuff back to the parents' house. ??? Yea, Jackass and family left after about an hour. We were there 'til cleanup. So, I'm doing what he and his girlfriend should have been doing, helping out with cleanup and transporting of crap. He had to take one of the boys to Homecoming. Everyone was pissed about that. When Pickle wanted to go, she had to find her own way. They just don't get why he treats her this way. I do. I'm her mother. If his ex-wife were the mother, it would be different. Ahh well. To this day, he has not once called and asked her to come over or told her she was still welcome. He calls the family, asks them if they've seen her, and wants to know why she isn't coming to visit. Dumbass.

It ended well. I helped carry stuff into the house, organize the tuxes/shoes, put the dogs out, and then finally I got home around 13o. I had several friends of the ex's parents tell me I looked good, and they were glad I was well. Haha bitches. You didn't think I would be anything, and that I was gutter trash and unworthy of Jackass' name. Hmmm. And how lovely that my children grew up beautiful and healthy and responsible, and that I'm capable of taking care of myself and he's... not. Who's not worthy? So go home and choke on that for a few days.

mm mmm mmmm.... foul.

So here I am in the wee hours of the morning, blogging, because,
"not good enough, soldierette.
If I can be nagged into updating... well...
Let's go...
:) "

btw, rsm, I did not NAG you to update. I simply encouraged you awhile back to let your loyal readers know what was happening in your busy life because your stories are always so well told, and have great insight and meaning. Mine are pretty much just bitching and ranting. :)

All kidding aside, folks... to my loyal readers (all four of you) thanks for the messages. I'm ok. It could be worse... I could be living in a camper... ;)

*hugs*

Sweet Surprises

A decent ending to a pretty dreadful week. I finish up at the office, change into my work clothes (haha) and head to the tavern. I find that somehow they have moved me off the schedule and I am not needed. I chit chat with the other girls for a few moments, cash my $9.15 check, and head for home. Sweet freedom. I didn't want to be there tonight. I had been told they would need help covering for people off, and I am (stupidly) responsible that way. One more week, and I'm done with them. It's a relief I can barely describe.

This week at the office has been a mix of busywork and projects. I have to keep up with my daily routine. We have spent two mornings in live demonstrations of software at which we're looking. Software that yours truly has researched, compiled quotes for, and have been told that I am lead project manager on the whole affair.

Wow. This is huge. This is a family run business in which projects are usually headed up by a family member. I am honored to have been given this measure of trust. And secretly doing a happy-dance because I am in charge of it, not the cutie-but-not-hottie foreign exchange IT guy who is chomping at the bit for me to fail this task.

We have one more software demo to sit through, then will make a decision as a group as to which one we want. From there, I am in charge of preparation, scheduling, installation, and training of the others. This I have missed. When I had my own consulting business 3 lifetimes ago, this is what I did. Systems analysis and design for other businesses and individuals. I held training classes; created and published my own manuals, and ran a store. It has been 9 years since I closed up shop, when my marriage ended and I took on the world (again).

I love the challenge, the planning, the organizing data. Turning raw information into usable facts. Setting up schematics for system organization. Finding solutions for what are not necessarily problems, but rather situations that need fine-tuning.

Our trucking company does everything by hand. Dispatching drivers is done with paper and pencil. Information tracking is handled on what is becoming a rather huge spreadsheet. The functionality works; it is cumbersome. Information is written in a book, turned over to me to put in the spreadsheet, tracked through as the paperwork comes back in, moved to different areas of the spreadsheet depending on in which phase we are - billing, payment, waiting on invoices from outside carriers, completion. When the time is right, we manually enter the information into a very old accounting program (which is no longer supported by the company) and invoices are created. Payables are done by a manual checkbook which the accountant pours over once a month. It is archaic, yet was at one time suitable for 5-10 trucks. We now have 25, and are projecting (to the best of our limited ability) growth for which we must prepare.

So I drag my computer-illiterate, pre-historic boss kicking and screaming into the 21st century. He bitches; then admits he knows it needs to be done and that is why I was hired. I've worked on computers, programmed, and set up systems for

OMG

twenty-two years now.

Holy sheep shit Batman.

*focus*

So I am excited. Not nervous. This is old hat. I wish I could get it all done in one night. I will fight myself to not rush through and overtax myself. It will be a measure of restraint.

Add to this the situation with Pickle this week. *sigh* She's holding up; she's scared and constantly battling wits with her mind-fucking father. She called Crime Victims Services. Who told her they couldn't tell her to go against court-stated documents, then turned around and called Children's Services after they told her they wouldn't without talking to her first.

Not that it matters, because CS never bothered to call back or investigate the situation. There's a shock. They're all too busy getting ready for the election, and worrying about finding other jobs.

*breathe*

'Zac: Now, Miss B, let's be fair. There are other younger children in far worse situations than Pickle who need immediate attention.

MB: Yea, so? This is MY child; they are not.

'Zac: If it were reversed and it were YOUR child being beaten, molested, burned, or sold for drugs...

MB: *waves hand* yea, yea. I know. I don't wish them harm. I would kill the bastards that did that to them myself if I could. You know the whole story.

'Zac: It will be...

*stretches neck*

I lost her once to this sociopath 16 years ago. I battled for 8 years. For most of those, I was walking dead. There was no life for me. There were the other children, and by no means do I discount them for the sake of one. Any mother who has lost a child in any capacity (death, custody, drugs) knows the anguish. There were years where I had a constant ache in my heart. I did not care what happened to me. I did not have a reason to care about my life. I existed to work, provide for the other kids, and pull myself into a fantastical world because I could not deal with reality.

Have you ever felt yourself losing your mind? Not the "where the hell are the car keys, I wish the baby would stop screaming, would someone shut that fucking dog up" lose your mind.

The sitting on the edge of the bed, holding on for dear life, rocking back and forth, scared to death because you can feel it sliding away and not knowing how to stop it, or if it will ever be right again. Seeing the look in your husband's eyes, knowing he knows, asking him if he sees it, and hearing him say yes. And even though he holds you as tight as he can, with tears running down his cheek, it's still weeks before you can get any sort of grip on reality. Knowing you can never ever trust anyone, even if they don't deserve it.

That's a scary fuckin' feeling, my friends. I do not want to take that trip again. Ever. And every time the world drops out from under me, it reminds me of that time, and to what I do not want to return.

So I wait, willing myself to calm down. Maintain one day, one hour, one minute at a time, until we go to court at 4p Tuesday for the pre-trial. The attorney is confident it will be solved that day. I am cautiously optimistic, yet am resolving myself to not hope for anything as the fickle finger of fate winds it's way through. Her father has a way of coming through things unscathed. To wish or hope that this time will be different would be foolish. Right now, the only thing holding this back is that he asked his parents for money to fight the custody hearing, and the mother told him no. We are not through court yet. She is his mother. This could very easily change.

I saw the parents at a band function this week. The father was extremely pleasant, jovial, and well-mannered with me. The mother was stoic, reserved, and very cautious around both me and Junior. Junior asked me if I noticed it, and thought she may be mad. She was too young to remember this was the way I was treated by both of them during the early years of custody fights. It stirred old feelings of apprehension and caution. This time, however, I do not have the gut-wrenching pains and nausea. I am much more in control of myself. Guess I'm a big girl now. *snort*

So I send little messages to Pickle... hi. love you. what's up? in the hopes that they somehow brighten her moments and give her the resolve to finish out the time without finding herself in a terrible spot. She starts classes Monday, and on the second day, Squid goes to the Navy, and we go to court. I must remain calm and strong for her. She has a reserve of strength that has surprised even me, yet I see it cracking. She's reaching her breaking point. She already knows life is not good, and kind, and fair. She still has that effervescence, that life, that joie de vive. I'm not ready to see that die. She will miss Squid terribly. He is a good friend to her. He has been a solid rock of peace and comfort for her. How cruel, life's irony. He cannot be there when she needs him the most, though he would give a limb to do it. She puts on a brave front, but this will be her first big heart-break. I hope she realizes that it is not because he didn't want to be there; the timing just didn't work out right.

As for other surprises, this week my oldest came home from her vacation with a "promise ring." A beautiful 3 stone with stones down the side, small white-gold promise ring. We talked about what it meant, and was she willing to take that step, and about her father issues, and not treating her fella badly, because he's not her dad. I also saw him at our mother/daughter night out on Wednesday. He only had a 20 minute break for class, otherwise he would have been given the riot act for not talking to me before giving her this ring. He, however, was smart enough to know that he was just biding his time, and his expression showed he understood that fact. LOL. I love terrifying them. It's not intentional; it's just so damn easy.

Last night my father told me he wanted to see a doctor to do something about the Parkinson's. He's talked to people who have used meds and can get the shaking to stop. He is concerned about the known compulsive side effects. This is a huge breakthrough. This man has been to a doctor once in his adult life. Only because my mother tricked him and told him she needed to go and he needed to drive her. :) My parents are great. I did not bring it up because I knew unless it was his idea, he would not be receptive. So I hid my surprise behind the awesome grilled ham and steaks and cauliflower (meatfest!) and told him I'd find one.

People are leaning on me. Needing me. Asking me for help and guidance. People to whom I've turned for guidance and help. People whom I thought would never see potential in my abilities or . It is......... strange.

From my spot in the living room, I can see my father sleeping in his room. The low light shines across his face. He is peaceful. I thought it would be more difficult having him live with me. It is surprisingly pleasant. I am extremely grateful for this time with him. So I sit back, and look forward to the next conversation, the next shared movie, the next grill-out.

Unlike Dork, who has called and texted me several times this week. I just did not feel like dealing with his childish drama. He knows what's going on, but not having any kids, cannot relate, cannot comfort, cannot be someone I turn to for support. I suppose I need to end it properly. He will just have to wait until we get through the worst of it.

Mr M has sent little joke messages, called once, and occasionally I catch him on Yahoo (I've had little time to be on it at work-too much happening). He asks about Pickle, he sends words of encouragement (and of course words of ribald jokes and crude innuendos) that bring a smile, even if I don't have the energy to respond. I try to remember to thank him. It's been so long since I've had anyone to turn to for support of any level, I sometimes forget my manners. silly.

So I'm off tonight, and just vegged out, finished a book, watched a movie, took a nap, and finally had to write. I'm mulling things about the work project in my mind. I've told myself I'm not going to dedicate my entire weekend to it, but I know that once I start actually drawing the process boards, reorganizing the information, and working on the plan, I will not be happy until the process is complete. Work is my escape. I must escape from my escape.

I feel the pains coming back into my shoulders and neck. I must keep busy this weekend, for I cannot afford to sit and dwell on Pickle. The mind can twist you into roads you should not travel if left alone too long. So I will clean, organize my room, ready the house for the fall, and prepare for my classes which start in a week and a half. Ahh, the sweet sanity of structure and fact.

In the words of Pickle, I'm such a dork. *grin*

Guraj Sayl Kween R I...

OMG

Up at 715 on Saturday (not typical unless I'm working in the yard moving trucks around) and not only am I up and around, I AM GOING GARAGE SALING.

Yes, folks, two of the women at work talked me into it. I know. But in part of my quest to be more social and not hermit-like, I agreed. So we met at J's house, and she, I, P and T went garage saling from 830 until 315PM. I thought I was going to die. In and out of the SUV. Traipsing through people's yards. Snooping through stuff, and actually having FUN. wtf? The area had the Lincoln Highway garage sale, where everyone who lived on this road from one end to the other, had a sale. We must have gone to 20 and finally had to stop for fuel (of the food kind) and just to sit down, not in a car. Amazingly enough, even with four women sharing one vehicle, we had room for everything.

Now, I'm not much at this garage sale bullshit, but I did pretty well. I found some of my favorite face lotion (the nectar of the gods) that is usually $18/bottle brand new in the box for ONE DOLLAR. I tried to not jump up and down, clap my hands and squeal like a little piglet the whole time I'm paying for it. Of course, they only had one, but I was happy enough.

A bit later I found four dresses (three for Pickle and one for Junior) for $20 (I talked them down four bucks-go Miss B) and they are sweet! If I could fit my fat ass in them, I'd wear them. They're classic. And they fit them. One of them still had the store tag on for thirty bucks. Excellent.

I found a few odds and ends, and at this one fabulous place, a solid oak kitchen table 5.5 feet by 3.25 feet with thick carved legs, for $50. I paid $30. Don't hate. It's in pretty decent shape, and I could sand and refinish it (maybe one of these days.) Alone now, it's still awesome.

But by far, the best thing I found was a vhs tape of ALL BUGS BUNNY CARTOONS. 50 cents. Score! Right up there with Scooby, Bugs is the shit. And none of that silly Daffy Duck or Elmer Fudd crap. *bobs head back and forth* Uh huh, who da man?

So I get done with that, drag everything home, and pass out on my couch. I have 45 minutes before I have to get ready for girls night out with A and R. Home girls wanna party.

We head to the capital, grab some awesome frickin' ribs with sauce so hawt n sweet I thought I was dyin'. Not wanting to party too much and have to drive an hour or so back to their place, we decided to head back and hit one of the local haunts. During the ride back, which included a pit stop for overfull bladders and rib removal, we decided we were just going to watch movies at the house and have a couple drinks. Two of us have CDL's, and one has sugar. None of us need to be inebriated on the road. And since I drink about twice a year, I don't care to babysit others, who tend to get loud and goofy when they drink too much. (Yea, been there before with these two.)

So we hit town, stop at wally world, grab sweet tea and chocolate chip cookies (I know, party animals) and head back. We get there, get in our pj's, and sit around watchin' something before I pass out 15 minutes later. Yea, I'm a wild one. Our carousing night on the town was one drink with dinner, and passing out on the couch. Sounds like my last date. buahahaha.

Anyhow, we decided we just weren't in the mood for a three day hangover anymore. *bawls* I'm so old.

Ugh. A and R are an "item." A is my bestest friend in the world. I worked with her for 5 years, and we were hell on wheels, in every sense. Well, she hooked up with R, who is nice enough, but something about her just aggravates the livin' piss outta me. Not that I would ever tell A. R is constantly sick, always calls me FOR A, gets morbidly depressed if A has to be away from home (she finally had to take a local job where she was home every night) and has to be in the middle of every conversation. On the way back, A was driving, R was shotgun, and I was in the back, trying to steer and brake because that's just how I am. Meanwhile, the entire drive back, R is yappin' on about this and that, so and so, yadda fuckin' ya. I had to consciously make myself answer her, and not roll my eyes when she was looking. I'm hoping I didn't shoot daggers through her with my eyes and send the "SHUT THE HELL UP" message. I would hate to hurt her feelings, and I know A really cares about her. R is always telling me to not be a stranger, she thinks of us as good friends, blah blah blah. I'm not one to have a lot of "girlfriends." Women piss me off, and I usually do the same because I just don't think and act the way they do. R is one of them. Am I awful? No, she's just aggravating.

Well, Pickle made it home from her dad's tonight. *sigh* This was his weekend, and he told her she "HAD" to come home. So much for not having to come home all summer.

Anyhow, she had to work Friday night from 5-10 with Junior. Apparently, when she got to his place, the door was locked. (She doesn't have a key; has never been allowed. *rolls eyes*) So he opens the door. And stands there staring at her, unspeaking, for a couple minutes, til she finally walks past him and goes inside. And doesn't bother to speak to her the rest of the weekend. Here I am, giddy with my garage sale finds, waiting for her to get back so I can share my treasures with her, and she has to deal with that crap. On the bright side, she worked 'til close last night, and again from 4-9 today, so she didn't have to be around there long. I'll be glad when this is finished.

Oh, ooooh, OOOOOH. I asked one of the warehouse fellas (who happened to be going to the local automotive college) to check out my brake pads for me. Always want to stay ahead of that game - I've done the rotor replacement thing before. Not a trip I want to take again.

Well, dingledork pulls off the front tires (I told him not to worry about the back ones) and checks them (I look too, 'coz I want to make sure he knows what he's doing - LOL) and puts them back on. I tell him thanks, and I'll buy him a beer at the next Thirsty Thursday. He comes over to me and tells me there is something I could do.

*hackles up because I know what's next* What's that?
DD: How about a blowjob?
me: How about I kick your ass out of the shop?
DD: Oh, come one, I want to know what it's like with someone else.
me: Aren't you engaged?
DD: Yea, but I've never been with anyone else. I just wanted to see what it was like.
me: Well, aside from the fact that I'm old enough to be your, um, aunt, (shut up) I'd hurt you, hell no. Don't make me beat the shit outta you.

Well, dingledork opens the overhead door and stands back while I back my jeep out around a truck that's unloading. As I put it in drive, he steps up and says, "Are you sure?"

Laughing, because at this point I'm ready to claw his fucking eyes out, I just roll forward and wave.

*begin rant*

WTF is wrong with people? I can't even stand to look at him when he comes through the office now, and of course, I sure as hell am not going to hang around the shop on Thursdays for a beer with the guys, because this stupid sonofabitch has now taken it beyond "one of the guys" level. I hate when stupid people spoil my fun. I should run over you with the street sweeper, or drop a 50 pound bag of feed on your head. Assclown.

*end rant*

And... You CAN Fix Stupid. Stupid is gone. Yep, the brainless twat (22, big boobs, little brain) at work finally pulled her final stunt. She had been late all week, and on Friday at ten after eight, she called in and told the HR Guy she overslept and would be in. We figured around 9 or so. 930 comes, and we're told she called HRG to let him know she needed to take her daughter to the doctor and would let us know if she got her in or not, and since she was already late, she was just going to take care of this, so she wouldn't have to take time off another time. Round about 1230, HRG and the office manager were talking, figuring she must've been able to get her daughter into the doctor. One of the owner's wife said it would be nice if she could pencil us in a couple days a week (I rolled; she doesn't typically say things like this about anyone - we were all just fed up.) So 1pm rolls around, and HRG calls Stupid Twat and asks her if she's coming in today.

ST: No, I wasn't really planning on it.
HRG: Really? Why not?
ST: Well, since I was going to get written up for being late, I figured I'd get all this other stuff out of the way, that way I wouldn't have to worry about it.
HRG: Well, you don't.
ST: What?

HRG: Effective immediately, you are laid off. You need to turn in your key, while someone is in the office, because you are no longer an employee, so you are not allowed to be on the premises.

Whoa. So what does ST do? SENDS HER OLDER SISTER IN TO PICK UP HER THINGS, DROP OFF HER KEY AND PICK UP HER FINAL PAPERS.

*shakes head* what a complete dumbass. She is so used to shaking her ass and getting people to do everything for her (male and female) and expects the world to take care of her. She told us she has one guy to buy her cigarettes and food when she's hungry, another who buys her dresses, and she's "seeing" a 38 year old who really "gets" her. No, dipshit, he "gets off" on having a cute little 22 year old brainless twat to suck his dick for a little food or a pack of smokes, and no commitment to you or your TWO KIDS. It's the oldest profession in the world, honey, and you have a money-maker.

*talks to self* don't hate... you were 22 once, and cute. she WILL get old. and god-willing, fat. stop being so bitchy.

Speaking of stupid... I'm undressing tonight so I can shower up and smell pretty after waiting on aggravating, rich boat people tonight, and I have this cute, little pink bra with sheer polka dots on it on. As I'm taking it off, I realize, I have the fucker on inside out. Well, that would explain the little bumps all over the girls from the pattern. Dumbass.

Back to the grind... hope your weekend was just as stellar!

*hugs*

ode to a pubic hair

*begin rant*
Oh
My
Gawd

How do you NOT notice that you have left a 2 inch hair on the toilet seat?

EVERY
FRIGGIN
TIME
you use the bathroom?

Ok, I admit. I have this "thing." I look at the toilet seat before I sit down. Home, office, restaurant. Everywhere. Because every time I didn't look, there was something not mine on the seat. *shudder*

One person at work, who shall remain nameless because they are so frickin' disgusting, ALWAYS leaves a little something behind. I am constantly nearly pissing myself as I stand there, legs crossed, bouncing around trying to get some paper to wipe off the hairs, or splatters. ugh.

for cryin' out loud, ya lazy bitch, turn around and look when you're done and do the rest of us a favor. i'm tired of cleaning up after you before i have to clean up myself. you're a grown woman. either wipe off the seat, or shave yourself.

*end rant*

weekend plans...

right before closing time tonight, one of the little hottie yard fellas (who at this point, i have socks older than, but 20 years younger would be all over) is chit chattin' with me. he's helped me move, hook up my washer, and liberate my quesadilla from my oven. i've known him a couple years - he's almost done with college and will be heading back home in a couple weeks. nice kid.

lhyf: you workin' all weekend again?
me: actually, i have tonight and tomorrow off.
lhyf: cool. what are you doing?
me: hopefully someone tall and rich.

buahahahahaha

thankfully he is old enough to appreciate my sense of humor... ;) the hr guy in the next room, however, just shakes his head at me.

have a great weekend ya'll... don't forget why we're celebrating. hug a vet, thank a soldier, and put your damn hand over your heart when the flag passes by this weekend. oh, and you better not even THINK about keeping that hat on.

- Happy Memorial Day
*hugs*

miss b

Hard Day's Night

I try to remember that I love my job; that I have a decent job with good working conditions, and quite a bit of flexibility if I need it.

However.

Working for a family-owned business is sometimes, well, how shall we say, shitful.

Take my boss (please.) He, I and another driver were chatting about the price of fuel, and I remarked that if the prices kept going up, I was going to have to get a bike. He -apparently thinking he's hilarious- said, "Well, there's a difference between HAVING a bike and USING it."

*blink*
*blink*

WTF? Let's review. I work FOUR jobs. I hook up the drivers' trucks on the weekends. Plus, I raise kids and maintain a household by MYSELF. It's not like I'm some lazy bitch who hangs out eating bon-bons when I'm not at my desk filing my nails. Just because you're having "issues" with the fact that you didn't run all winter, and are half-heartedly making the attempt to take off the weight that you put BACK on over the winter after making everyone in the office feel like frumpy lumps every time we ate something sweet or drank pop, does NOT give you the right to make any kind of remark of what I might or might not do should I choose to purchase some type of alternate transportation.

Putz. (Look that one up in the dictionary.)

And THEN... oh yea, it gets better.

I head back to the scale room to avoid telling you what a fucknut I think you are, and having your sibling (who is the office manager) try to make me feel like a failure, it's a banner fucking day.

I have a college degree in computer science. I have taught Adult Education Basic Computer courses at a local college and a local Vo-Ed school. I have worked in several IT departments of some major corporations (BP, ITT) AND owned my own computer store at one time. I have developed, published, and used my own manuals to teach these courses. I have forgotten more about computers and accounting than you will ever know. So for you to say, "All that education and teaching, and now you're a dispatcher" really sets me off.

A) I spent 15 years doing all this stuff, and raising a family. I decided that the type of lifestyle it required and the toll it was taking on my health was not the direction in which I wanted to go.

2) I AM NOT A DISPATCHER. I have been a dispatcher. I have been a team leader for over 40 drivers. I have been a dispatch manager in charge of 8 dispatchers, 100 drivers, brought in record numbers for income, and taught board babysitters how to BE dispatchers. I am not ashamed of having done something that I loved to do at one time, and did it well. I am, however, not dispatching. I am brokering freight, managing the billing and accounts receivable, logs, and compliance records of a successful multi-million dollar trucking company in addition to cleaning up the delinquent accounts, analyzing the lanes for profitability, implementing EDI with major customers for automatic tracking and payment, and developing the documentation for training and job duties so that sometime this lifetime I can take time off and someone will actually be able to do the work in my absence. As this has NEVER been done for this company, I would think you'd be a little more grateful that I'm making your job easier in the event that I get sick, or should we hire someone new, we can train them without re-inventing the wheel every time. Oh, wait, I'm doing YOUR job in this company. Bitch.

I'm thinking of a word. It starts with a C and ends with a T. Today you are a coat.

*sigh*

On the up side, tonight is dinner day with my daughter, and this weekend my brother and his family are coming out to visit so I'm gonna get some baby-lovin'. *grin*

*yawn* time to give my pillow some head... ;)

*hugs*

More stupidity...

Ok, I admit, I'm not the most graceful person in the world anymore. I'm willing to accept that. But does it have to be that every time I do something frickin' ungraceful, I have to be in front of the one someone that I really don't want to do something stupid?

Cutie-but-not-hottie-foreign-it-guy asked me a question. I'm in the next room with a wall dividing us, so I don't always hear him. I walk around the corner to where his desk sets, with a standard metal chair sitting beside it.

I have a habit of leaning. Correction: I HAD a habit of leaning. Usually I would put my knee up on the chair and lean over the desk because his questions tend to turn into lengthy discussions.

Apparently, the chair was tired of being leaned on by me. The middle broke out of it, and my knee went right down through the middle. No fear, I didn't fall all the way through because my SHIN stopped my fall. Son of a bitch.

So there I am, trapped in the center of the chair, hands on the desk to keep me from knocking myself out on a metal box he has on the edge, and what does CBNHFITG do?

Laughs his fucking ass off.

No "Are you alright?" or "Can I help you?" Just buahahahahahaha.

Fucker.

So I remove myself from what's left of the chair with as much decorum as I can muster while saying "Damn that hurt." I hobble around with what's left of my pride (for cryin' out loud, do I have ANY left?) and take the remains of the chair out to the dump area. All the while, CBNHFITG is just dying.

I go into the HR guy's office and tell him I should start an incident report because I've maimed myself on company property. He asked what happens; I tell him. He said he heard CBNHFITG laugh, but didn't know why. I told him I was unamused at the lack of help received by CBNHFITG. HR Guy started laughing. I told him I didn't think that was appropriate HR behavior. He then asked me if I was alright, to which I put my hand up and walked out of the room, listening to BOTH HR Guy AND CBNHFITG laughing around me. They were only sad that they didn't catch it on video so they could put it on YouTube and America's Funniest Home Videos. Assholes.

So for the rest of the day, I hear CBNHFITG talking about how I was Jackie-Chan style karate kicking the furniture and hurting myself. HR Guy was defending himself saying he DID ask if I was alright... yea, AFTER you laughed at me. Putz.

Then CBNHFITG asks me if I'm ok. I tell him I'll live, just as I always do. So he says, "Good, then I don't want to hear you bitch about it all day."

Dick.

And of course, half the office was down at the tavern Friday night to tell me not to lean on any furniture and hurt myself. And to watch out for my leg while I was working.

*sigh*

So today I'm hobbling around with a bruise on my leg the size of Rhode Island and being pissy.

But not for long... Pickle has her first Prom tonight... so off I go to help her get ready... Hair, nails, makeup, pretty, strappy shoes... *sigh*

Have a great weekend...

*hugs*

One of the drivers came in tonight while I was cleaning the office. He's one of the "not the sharpest tacks in the box," but a really nice guy. And, he always has the good road jokes.

So he's yapping away as I'm trying to finish up, and tells us (couple of the yard guys were in taking a break) about one he played on a female driver he was talkin' to goin' down the road.

He tells her he's been married four times.

"Four times? What happened?"

"Well," he tells her, "The first one died from eating poisoned mushrooms. The second one died from eating poisoned mushrooms. The third one died from a crushed skull."

"Wow, that's awful! How did her skull get crushed?"

"She wouldn't eat the fuckin' mushrooms."

buahahahahahahaha....

drivers are so twisted.

aren't we great? ;)

*hugs*
miss b

Dilemma Dilemma

What do you do when someone does something really nice for you? You freak out, worry, obsess, and wonder why they would do it. Let me 'splain...

Yesterday I cornered my boss about what I owed for the campground fees. He had mentioned he had pulled the camper out, winterized, and got it home and closed up for the season.

He told me he didn't know.

*blink* "What do you mean, you don't know? You're the one who talked to them about the initial cost and setup."

"It's already paid."

"By who?"

"Don't know."

*sigh* Ok, I'm not one to call people a liar...

"You suck at lying. Your chin is quivering."

"I'm eating an apple."

"Seriously, how much is it?"

"K and I paid it; it's a done deal."

"What?!! Why?"

"Because, we've been fortunate; who would we be if we didn't reach out and help our neighbors? It would be different if you weren't working and trying to make things happen."

"Are you sure?"

*scowl* "It's taken care of. We just didn't want to say anything at the beginning."

"Because you knew I'd say no."

"Yep, and now it's done and you can't."

Bastard.

"Fine. Since you're a guy and I mostly act like a guy, I'll say thanks. However, I suppose I'll have to get all mushy and emotional with K. Thank you."

*laugh* "You're welcome. "

~~~~****~~~~~

*sniff*

Now what the hell do I do? Obviously, a nice thank-you gift is in order. Any suggestions? I'm struggling to figure out what to get them that would be appropriate for allowing me to use the camper for a month, and paying my rental fees. They saved me about $375.

Ideas, anyone? Captain Smack, I'm SURE you'll come up with something stellar! However, I'll probably lean towards Wein and Steph and their good sense. Well, Wein anyway! *giggle* luv ya Steph!

Help!

It could be worse...

That's the start of the new mantra at work...

Background:

One of the "ladies" in the scale room was having a hissy fit over something that had gone wrong at home - something broke, I forget - anyhow, she's going on and on and ON about how awful it is and how she hates her life (her husband passed away about 10 years ago, her house is paid for, and she doesn't have to worry about moving)... yada yada yada, blah blah blah.

heh.

I look at her; I can't help it, the eyebrow goes up...

"It could be worse."

*exasperated sigh*

"How?" she asks.

"You could be living in a camper."

*zing*
*stunned silence*
*embarrassed giggle*

"Yea, you're right... "

So after the weekend, she just HAS to tell me how that's her new saying whenever anything goes wrong or someone complains to her... she just tells them, it could be worse...

Today, the Yard Manager (also one of the owners; just built a very LARGE new house) was throwing fits and cranky because everything kept breaking down, falling apart, going to hell on the production line.

I just look at him.

"Eh, it could be worse."

"What? Whatever."

"You could be living in a camper."

He had the good grace to blush. Then he smiled and was much happier for the day.

One of the office women - nice lady, very proper, extremely high-maintenance, married to the Yard Manager - was talking to me and one of the other owners the other day about a house just down the road for sale. She said the owners had really fixed it up cute inside, but it was "so tiny."

*giggle* I couldn't help myself.

"Let's review."

*gazing expectantly at me*

"I live in a camper."

"Ahh... so this really wouldn't be that tiny to you."

Ya think? *shaking head*

Just doing my part to add a little levity to the workplace...

*grin*

Jim... Slim Jim

Ok, I admit. I have my sneaky ways and fun little quirks. I love forensics, intel, and mechanical mastery; it's my forte'. Little did I know I was going to actually get to use my skills again this soon...

Background: I'm at work; the yard guys are getting ready to go home. (They leave about 1/2 hour before us office personnel.) I hear one fella radio out to another one to ask if he locked his truck, 'coz he didn't, but it is, and the keys are locked inside.

Heh.

Ok, I don't laugh AT him... he's a cool guy, always nice to me, hangs out and talks, and he's got my back when shit goes wrong at work. He just asks what he should do.

"Get me a slim jim and I'll get it open for ya."

"Really?"

*laughs* "Sure." Thinking he wouldn't find one and I would be on my way.

Wrong. WTF do I think, thinking?

Anyhow, a few minutes later, he walks back in with a Slim Jim. (Not the edible kind folks-it's the thin foot-long piece of metal with a couple notches in it to help you unlock things.)

"Here ya go," as he hands it to me.

Gaarrreeaaaatt... now I have to put up or shutup. Ok. Deep breath; I'm cool; start walkin'. Make out like it's no big deal and he's never done this before? "Nope."

Fabulous.

We get to his truck. Fairly decent Ford Expedition, little decked out and totally unmarred. Ugh.

I peek in the window to line up with the lock, start to slide the jimmy bar in the window and he's just looking in great fascination.

"Where'd you learn to do this?"

*jiggle*
*slide*
*pop*
*grin*

"I had a couple shady boyfriends in high school, and my mom was a cop."

"Damn girl, what else you know?"

*knowing look*

"You should see what I can do with a time card and a paperclip."

He laughed, and took off to take the slim jim back to the mechanics in the shop. Little does he know, I'm dead serious. When I worked third shift at another office, I used to have to get into the safety office to get stuff for the drivers, and a couple times I left my office keys at home and had to open the dispatch door somehow.

Anyhow... ego boost for me today... huzzah!

*does the hoopdie*
"Go Miss B, it's your birthday..."

*muah*
have a wonderful evening...

Of Armorless Knights and Warm Hands...

Well, this week sucks swampwater... even more so than yesterday.

Today, I get to work, and I've blown off most of the crap from yesterday. I can take a little teasing, and I'm more than willing to give what I get. There is, however, a line.

I come out of the restroom to find the YM(Yard Manager) waiting on me with the 4 from up front who were making crude jokes yesterday.

YM: There you are.
Me: Where did you think I was?
YM: Didn't know, figured you were out appreciating another driver.
*cue raucous laughter from everyone else*
VBPA(Vicious Bitch Purchasing Agent): No, she's just in there cleaning up from the last one.
*more laughter*
Me: What in the hell is wrong with you people? Why would you say stuff like that?
YM: Well, 'coz it's so much fun.
Me: Really? Well, it's not.
YM: Well, we thought you might be out... it IS Driver Appreciation Week after all.
Me: What would make you think that?
YM: Well, that's what AYSG(Aggravating Young Sales Guy) said.

By now, I'm fuming. Really, enough is fucking enough.

Me: Really? *turn to AYSG* Now I AM going to pop you in the nose.
AYSG: What???! *innocent face* What did I do?

I just shake my head and walk back to my office.

*memories of junior high/high school bullshit well up* when I was 16 I was seeing a guy from school. I happened to be out walking with my walkman headset on, listening to the cars, minding my own. I walk through town, past the bank where all the hoodrats hung out. There was one there who was 2 years younger than me (in my brother's grade) and as I walked past him, he started calling me a slut and a bitch. I kept on walking, pretending I didn't hear him. I got home and my bf called. I told him what had happened. He told me it would be taken care of. Apparently, he cruised into town, got my brother, found the little bitch, and made it very clear to him that I was NOT a slut or a bitch and that I would not be talked to that way. I never was again; even when we broke up a couple years later. He made a huge effort to be extremely polite to me.

I have dealt with this for more years than I care to remember. I'm sorry I'm a curvy person; I'm sorry I'm one of the few single women working here that is not living with someone; I'm sorry that I drive a truck and none of you do. This does not make me a whore.

For 5 years at a previous company, I dealt with the same shit. If I passed someone in Wal-mart and said "hi" to them, I was fucking them. OMG. It was horrid. I would deliver to places and have to read about myself on the bathroom walls. I used to joke about it that if I really were getting as much action as everyone said, I'd be a much happier person.

*more memories of bullshit at work* Captain Crazy found out who wrote the stuff on the walls. He found out who was saying stuff and "chatted" with them. At 6'5", he was very persuasive. He held me while I cried and patted my hair. He was my shining armorless knight. Dear God, I STILL miss having someone on my side.

Truth be told, I would have guessed it more from outside truck drivers (who, btw, have heard some of these conversations when waiting in the office for paperwork) and I have heard it from other drivers on the road. They were promptly put in their place. In the 3 years I have worked here between the driving and the office, with the exception of Big Papa, I have not heard ANYTHING like that from our drivers, or even rumors of any of them saying anything like that. Ever. Don't get me wrong; they cut up just like everyone else, but I was a driver. They never would have said anything out of line to me because it was expected that our drivers be professional. And they are.

So by now, I'm back to my desk, and I'm furious, and humiliated. My boss had stepped out with the GM this morning, so he missed all the fun. I'm not overly emotional or a crier by nature, but this dregged up all the stupid shit I had to deal with before. I just worked on paperwork and went to the bathroom a few times to get through the worst. This is a multi-million dollar company. They have 100 employees. We deal with the public all the time. I am astounded that they do this shit. It's family owned and run, so it's a more laid-back atmosphere. As always, it has its good and bad points. The boss gets back and after about an hour and a half he notices I'm not my cheery self from this morning.

This prompts 3 different conversations wanting to know what was wrong (nothing), is it work-related (yes, but I'll deal with it) and is it anything he can help with (no, I'm used to it, it will end). He wants to make sure this isn't going to escalate into something huge. (My mood is pretty dark; I am very foul by now.) I tell him I've got it under control, nothing will get out of hand. I think he has a rough idea by now what's going on, because people are now having whispered conversations around me.

So he leaves early for the day, and here I sit in charge... I don't give a flying fuck if I ever come back here. So I'll be in tomorrow, because I need the health insurance for the kids and the money for the child support.

*sigh*

I have talked to the HR guy, who is aware silly stuff goes on, but didn't realize this was happening. He was very surprised too by the people who were normally very cordial and well-mannered who were joining in the ribbing. I told him that it has lightened up considerably. VBPA came up to me at lunch asking if they had upset me. I told her I was not in the mood to talk of it and to let it go. She apologized and left.

Big Papa came in shortly after that. He said "Hello Miss B." I looked at him and called him a shortened nickname of his real name. He looked at me and said that wasn't his name. I told him that Driver Appreciation Representative wasn't mine, but apparently he had no issue with calling me that all week. He got very quiet, and walked up to me and apologized. I believe he got the point. He was very cordial after that moment.

Oh yea, on top of all this... Mr Monthly visited again. (He's pretty much the only guy I can count on to be around regularly, and quite frankly, if I never see him again, my world won't end.) That's another thing I miss about Captain Crazy. He had warm hands. And I would sit wrapped in his arms and he would put his warm hands on my crampy, sore belly, and it would all be ok.

So in half an hour, I'm going to meet one of my best friends, have dinner, catch up on all the gossip, and I believe I'm going to have a couple beers. I'm not a drinker by nature, but this has been a fucked up week.

*raises beer* Here's to armorless knights and warm hands... may you all find some. Every woman should have them.

*hugs*
miss b

Money Honey....

For once I had a really good weekend. Of course, I worked at the bar, but the owners were on vacation so things were running smoothly and everyone was relaxed. Had a tense moment with my best friend (she really can be quite pissy at times) but I figure, meh, we've had bad moments before, we'll have bad moments again. We get over it. That's what friends do.

Junior stopped by the restaurant with one of her workmates. Brickman was supposed to stop, but had to go home and let the dog out. We were all going to meet up later at a little place that had a band going. I was supposed to call him when I got done. Cool. I haven't been out in a long time. Of course, I'm in the seventh circle of hell out there and barely get a signal. (F*n Sprint) I call the cell (in case he's already up there) and the house. No answer. No biggie. I go on in.

I come up behind my daughter (she doesn't see me) and this kid standing there next to her and her friend Barbie (seriously, you have to see this girl). The guy sees me and I put my finger to my lips and go "shhh". He leans over and says (in a not-so-nice tone) "And who are you?" Heh. "Who do you want me to be?" He kinda straightens up and looks at me. I already know who he is; he's one of the kids Junior works with and he's here to meet Barbie tonight. I look back at him, raise my eyebrow (really frickin' cool mom move) and say, "I'm the mom."

3.
2.
1.

It registers. He grins really wide, gives me a big hug and tells me he's happy to meet me. Putz. He's actually very cute. Ok, he's a total hottie and 20 years ago he wouldn't have impressed me at all. But he's very shy and spent most of the evening talking to and dancing with me. Hello. Not that I'm not flattered, but really dude, you're crampin' my style. *grin* And, Barbie's right there... he just didn't know how to talk or dance with her. Poor fella.

Actually, I had a lot of 20 somethings hitting on me. It was amusing. Junior, Barbie and I were hanging out around the pool table chatting during a band break and rico suave comes up and says to me, "Is this where all the hot chicks hang out?" You have got to be kidding me. So, of course I say, "Yea, I'm here." He's havin' a great time talkin' to the fat chick thinkin' he's makin' headway with Junior and Barbie. Then Junior lets the cat out of the bag. "This is my momma." *Roll eyes* Thanks kiddo. Cue disbelief, and 37 second "Really? Really. No shit? No shit." Conversation.

Then a pretty wasted 28 year old from a bachelor party (yep, same one as rico suave) starts chatting up Junior, who has no problem telling him she's only 18. And he's only x number of years younger than her mom. (Point to me) He looks, double-takes, and starts talkin' to me. "She's yours?" Yep "She's gorgeous." Yep. Not helpin' your case here buddy. So we start talkin' football, basketball, life. Nice fella. Little control freak. He amuses me. I tell him this. He tells me I'm pretty honest. Yep, blatantly so. I have no patience for games and drama. He comes back around twice more and chitchats. Then he tells me I'm scaring him because he doesn't know how to take me. hmmm. Sorry 'bout your luck, mister. This is me. I see him later on the dance floor.

So, back to work Monday.
O
M
G

I walk in wearing my Michigan jacket. It's chilly out. I get all kinds of hell because they beat Notre Dame. Look, it's a win. I can't help it they were finally playing like they should have been all along. 41-0. F*n-A!

I radio out to the LHYG (Little hottie yard guy).
"Hey LHYG".
"Yea."
"How 'bout that game?" He's a HUGE Notre Dame fan.
Groan. "Yea, I know."
*giggle*

I am catching all kinds of hell. Go figure. LHYG comes in for paperwork later, and I walk up to him and apologize.

"It was very unsportsmanlike."
He says it's ok.
"But it was so much fun!"

He laughs. He's a genuinely good kid. Parties a bit, but always polite, always pleasant. All us old ladies take great joy in flirting with him. And he always graces us with a flirty-yet-somehow-you're-scaring-me smile.

Then the fun begins. 10 minutes in I'm told a railcar did not make it in, won't until Thursday, and I need to find 5 trucks to bring product in from IA to keep from shutting down. By tomorrow.

Buahahahahahahaha. fuckers.

I am able to find 3, and one to dropship to a customer. Look, these trucks out west schedule 1-2 weeks ahead. And we're gettin' into harvest. No problem. SuperDispatcher saves the day.

Moving on, I'm dealing with drama on some of my other loads. I'm going outside to get a pop from the machine, and the purchaser hands me paperwork to give to a driver and send him round back to load. Cool.

Background: It is Driver Appreciation week here in the States. We have cookies, coffee, pop, etc out for all incoming drivers (not just ours).

I'm out leading this driver around by the hand because he's about stupid and I cannot believe they allow him to drive 80,000 lbs down the road by himself. I finally make it back in where everyone's looking for me over some drama with a container car not making it in from port, and suddenly I'm out giving the drivers some real appreciation in the lot.

Oh
Fuck
No

you did not just say that to me. Let me tell ya, I spent years battling this kind of crap at another place. Not my style, whatsoever. And they kept on. Viciously. Big Papa(the only black driver we have) who always comes in and looks me up and down gets in on it. He tries to hand me fifty cents. As he's grabbing the change, I look at him and quietly tell him, "do it and I will punch you in the nose." He backs off.

So I get back to my office, Big Papa follows, falling all over himself, and the yard manager asks what's going on. (Meanwhile, he and the cbnhitfeg had been teasing me.) I tell him he tried to give me a quarter. So YM takes out a nickel, tosses it at me and tells me he wouldn't waste the quarter. WTF? I pick it up and wing it back at him, hitting his shoulder pretty good.

What is wrong with people? I'm the only single female dating so I am now the company lot lizard? bastards. Big Papa tries to suck up. I tell him I'm done, now, have a good night. CBNHITFEG starts yappin' about somethin' and I tell him I expected better of him. He says "Really?" "Yea." And I commence to ignoring him for the rest of the day.

Well, two anniversaries have passed in the last week. My 1 year bloggiversary (yay me) and my 1 year mark at this job. So I get yanked into HR and told they're gonna keep me (how nice-see reference to other job where they cut me loose after a year because I taught them what they needed to know) and I got a 9% raise. Cool. They have plans for me. Great. Maybe I can move up to Madame.

Anyhow... what should have been a pretty good day (game won, raise) was actually pretty shitty because they suck.

OHHHHH. And my favorite broker left to do other things. He called me personally. I was sad. I refused to accept his resignation. Told him I was the customer and this is not what I wanted. He laughed. I was petulant. Finally I wished him luck.

SOAB. Now I have to find another one I trust. Dammit.

*sigh* back to my spanish....

A little hodge-podge...

Well, no worries about getting laid off from the bar, since 5 people have quit in the last 2 weeks...

~*~ including ~*~

Frenchie...

yep, FINALLY the TOAB (that would be Twat of a Bitch) quit and left town. Yay!!! *happy dance*

ok, so it's because her boyfriend wasn't nice to her. he was somewhat of a dick to her. alright, alright - he was not nice at all. and no one deserves that. *moment of reflection while i feel sorry for her*

done.

and then, and THEN... the TOAB2 (That's twerp of a boss - seriously, he's like, 5'3) who at one time told me I had an "evilness" about me (petit moi?) has the nerve to say to me (as I'm eating a piece of cherry pie that his wife makes) that "it's fattening."

blink.

"excuse me?"
"that's fattening."
"So, um, what are you saying, twerp?"
"Nothing, just saying that the pie is very fattening."
"hmm. Coz for a minute there I thought you meant that I was heavy and didn't NEED to be eating this pie." (this ok crumb topping, but the crust pretty well sucks, and I make better pies with refrigerated dough pie)

*and the backpedalling begins*
"no, no, I just meant it was not good for you and I eat it every day too."
"huh."

Funnily enough, a couple minutes later, he comes out with a piece of butterscotch pie... and tells me he didn't want me to feel bad because I was eating pie alone.

OMG... are you THAT much of a fucknut? Apparently so. He tells me that he doesn't think that there's anything he could say to me that would bother me. I asked if that was because of my innate evilness.

"Yes," he smiles.

heh. *pull straight face* "Well, twerp, I just do it to fuck with your head." Take dishes to bus cart and giggle at the look on his face.

*sigh* so many minds, so little time... *rubbing hands* buahahahaha

Anyhow... Junior is hitting it off with LYG (little yard guy). They have a real date on Sunday. I think she rather likes him. She's not really gone out with someone she hasn't known for several years and "hung with" as part of a group. She and her sister are STILL not speaking over last week's debacle. drama drama drama.

Brickman keeps mentioning to Junior that he's going to call me. Yea, ok. Look, here I am, holding my breath. NOT. Really, if it's that much bother to pick up the phone or you're not interested, just let it go. I have enough going on in my life. Junior-high games and soap-opera drama are not anything I need. The quickest way to bore me is to show mediocre interest, and little go-between games with my kid.

Work is work. Busier; aggravating. Still pulling freight from Minnesota... mid-October cannot get here fast enough...

Speaking of... oooh... we had COOL air and fog this morning! *jig* Fall is coming and I am psyched!!! Football, then basketball, hockey, Christmas, crock pot chili and baking home made bread (grandma's recipe).

I need a vacation. Fuck, I just need a weekend off with pay. I've worked every day since mid-May when Junior had graduation. I can't afford to take it off, but damn, I'm tired! Such a wuss am I.

Tater sent a really cool NASA video of shuttle preparation, and I can't figure out how to link the bitch to my blog... So, let me just say, it's pretty frickin' cool.

This is a unique personality test. There are only 4 questions but the results are very interesting. Share yours if you'd like... unless you're a fruitloop; then it's probably best you just keep it to yourself.

Dude, I have GOT to update my American Hero Worship blog. I have fundraiser shit for Soldiers' Angels, updates on some of our wounded folks, holiday projects for the Heroes...

*tearing hair out* Why don't I have any frickin' time???!!!

Oh, and my Spanish class? Fabuloso. No. Yo es estupido. No, no. MUY estupido. I try. REALLY hard. I can read it. Write it. Do you think I can come close to speaking it? Hell no. I can hear it in my mind. I know how it's supposed to sound. Lost in translation is the best I can come up with to define the garbled SHIT spewing forth from my lips. AAAAGGGGHHH. I should've taken it in high school instead of LATIN. Hello, MORON. oooh ooh... IDIOTO!!!

And math? meh, not so bad. When I DO IT... I'm not bored with the work. I'm overwhelmed with life. I had a good thing going on, then suddenly, I am knee-deep in world-spinning stuff and I have no time for me for fun.

RSM is still at basic training... I do miss his writing. Hurry back soldier!

I walked into an email from a former deployed Hero who is now stateside who wanted to "console me" in my time of sorrow at the second loss of my favorite team. He wanted to clarify he was NOT rubbing it in, NOT happy about it, and hoping I was dealing well with the pain. Don't you have a tank to paint or something???

And if one more person in the office tells me how surprised they are that Michigan could have screwed up two weeks in a row and knocked themselves out, I'm going to pop them in the mouth.

IT'S A STRATEGIC TACTIC TO ENSURE VICTORY IN THE 2008-2009 SEASON!!! We are planning ahead... we will sacrifice a year for the ultimate victory... So go blow yourselves.

Speaking of... CBNHITFEG (Cutie but not hottie IT foreign exchange guy) is growing a set. He walked up to me, handed me a can of compressed air, and told me to blow him. I beaned him on the side of the head with the can and told him to blow himself. Putz.

Off to beddy-bye...
*hugs*
Miss B

Data Entry. Yay. Ok, maybe not EXACTLY yay, but much more intriguing than filing 'til my hands bleed.

Spend the majority of the day entering equipment data into the US Customs database. Mindless drivel, but it's ok. After fighting with my software last night and 2 hours of Spanish recitations, the brain is mush.

I go back to the Office Manager's area to turn in the registrations for the trailers and get the ones for the trucks. She has an old yearbook from her Senior year. We find her, and her brother in there, giggle at the hairstyles, etc... She asks me when I graduated. I tell her.

"Really?"
"Yep."
"You're eight years younger than me?"
"Guess so."
"Wow. I don't feel as old as you look."

Oh.
hell.
no.

The other girls in the office bust up laughin', and I just take it in stride. Stupid is as stupid does. So anyhow, we see another picture of her playing volleyball (an old b&w) and I tease her about not knowing they had cameras back then. She was talking about stuff going on at the time. I told her I didn't remember; I was in 4th grade at the time.

*zing*
heh.
bitch.

So I leave their office area with the satisfaction that they are aware I am younger than ALL of them; and always will be.

Now I'm gonna take my old, tired ass back home, curl up on my couch and start my Geritol drip.

Poke this, ya ass-clown

I love my job.
Not.
I love the people with whom I work.
Not.

I tolerate both. Mainly because I'm bored and I am not an office politics kind of person. I try. I hold my tongue most of the time. However, I really suck at ass-kissing, and quite frankly, if my stellar job performance isn't enough to show my worth, all the brown-nosing in the world isn't gonna make it any better.

To that end, it's a small (people wise) company. Family owned by parents and 3 siblings. About 20 people work inside, maybe 30 outside. The atmosphere is typically friendly and relaxed, yet unabashedly two-faced and backbiting. Not to mention, there are about 70 percent of the people that work here that are related; so of course, the rules of conduct are a bit more relaxed than some. Lots of dirty jokes and innuendos flying around.

Now, I spent many years travelling the roads and being subjected to lots of crap like this. Some days I might even join in, depending on the company and my mood. I'll be the first to admit my mind wanders right beside the gutter some days, and others it just jumps full in. I do have a sense of propriety, though, and know when I should/shouldn't say something. A gift of mine that obviously some folks in my office don't have.

For example... Big Papa is one of our drivers. He's a big, old happy black guy with whom I worked before at another company. He comes into the office all hip and fly and "what's the schnizzle my dizzle" kinda shit. Most days he's a likable enough guy. Others I'd like to kick his ass from one side of the office to the other. He comes in, stares at me and sticks his big ol' tongue out and waggles it while moving his head around in circles. I just pretend to not notice and go in another room or start talkin' to someone else. Or if I'm standing talking to someone, he'll come over and look me up and down like I'm some nappy 'ho waitin' to be picked up by someone in a bar. Most days I ignore it. Others I say something because frankly, if I'm not into you, and I've told you I don't care for that, don't fucking do it. Simple? 'Coz I can guarantee that if you keep doin' it, it will make me want to do anything but have something to do with you. There are certain people in my life that I don't mind being suggestive with me; you are not one of them.

Them I can deal with; we have HR, and if it becomes a huge problem, the HR people will step in. It's the owners (one of them being my direct boss) that cause me issues.

Today: I'm waiting to use the restroom. My boss is blocking the door talking to someone. I'm fairly patient and quiet when having to wait on someone. He looks at me and says, "What's up?"

"Just waiting for you to move out of the way so I can use the restroom."

"Oh, no problem, should've said something."

As I walk in and start to shut the door, he says "Don't let your finger poke through the toilet paper."

heh. I'm not even gonna do a WTF? I'm just going to flat-out say why in the fuck would you say that to someone (unrelated, subordinate) at any given time? And this would be the one who's wife works in the office, within earshot of the 5 other people who heard this.

So what do you do? The HR guy empathizes. He knows some things cross some lines; this is typical I'm sure of any company. I'm not a femi-nazi, neither am I gutter-trash. Some days I find the humor in it, others it makes me very uncomfortable.

Anyhow... rant over.