Mercy

You wanna know how I roll? Well, lemme tell ya...

Last week, I paid off my credit card, and for the first time ever, got new furniture. I brought it home Sunday. I should have known better.

Monday. Lunchtime. Off to the gym to work out with the girl from the office. I pull around to stop in front of the building, and keep rolling. The pedal goes to the floor. When I finally stop, I get out, and there's fluid leaking from behind the front right tire. wtf?

So I take her back to the office, pull around and slow down to a crawl because I don't want to push out all the fluid. She has to open the door while we're moving and shuffle out of the way in time for me to maneuver around a trailer parked up front. I head over to the shop and ask them to take a look at it.

Back at the office, I get a call from the shop foreman. It's a brake line. (really?) They won't have the part until the next day. I can take a loaner car home for the night. Fine. At least I'm not without a way home and back to work.

1993 Buick Le Sabre. Or, better known as "Low-Rider Boat." I say low-rider because A) it sits much lower than my jeep and 2) I can't figure out how to adjust the seat forward so I'm laid out hangin' on to the steering wheel for dear life because that's the only way I can reach the pedals. Ever seen those little old ladies driving the big cars that look through the steering wheel? Now you know why.

Next morning, I wake up with serious aches in my chest. Like a chest cold without the cold. I have trouble breathing, am coughing a lot, but no fever, throat doesn't hurt, and I generally don't feel bad. It just hurts like a bitch to cough.

Shop foreman calls me... parts won't be in today. Keep the loaner. Argh. Fine. I'm in so much pain, I don't care. I end up going to the doctor because I tend to have a lot of trouble with respiratory issues from when I was young.

I get in there (six pounds lighter than the last time I was in - woo hoo!) and the doc tells me everyone is coughing. Fine. Just because you have a student doctor following you around doesn't mean I won't tell you to stop being an ass. I explain the no fever, no sore throat, etc... thing, and he double-checks my blood pressure, which apparently was pretty whack when the nurse took it. She wouldn't tell me what it was. When he took it, it was 120/95... bad bottom number. I had not yet taken my meds that day, and he said it was coming down so when I took the meds it should be better. Either way, he ordered chest xrays. Typical. I'm fine with that. Surprise, though, while the films are developing, he's ordered an ECG. So I go into another little room, hook up to all these wires and wait. The nurse tells me to lie still, don't move. I ask if I'm allowed to breathe. She laughs. Yes. Hey, just clarifying. I've not had one of these done before. After a few minutes, she comes over, says we're all done and starts yankin' wires. Ow. She takes me back to the room, and takes about 2/3 of my blood in many large vials (vampire convention in town this week?) and we test for thyroid, sugar, cholesterol, etc... I wait.

White blood count comes back 6500. Doc says that's normal, and indicates that I'm not fighting anything in particular. XRays show lungs are clear. yay. ECG is mostly normal, although I have #((($))*!&$. Yea, I didn't catch that either 'coz it was a big word that I hadn't heard before and that was when my cough decided to stage a coup. I asked him what that meant. Basically, my heart slows down. Hmmm. Not his biggest concern at this point. Guess it's not life-altering yet. It is non-viral bronchitis with a pinch of pleuresy thrown in for good measure. Brought on, most likely, from second-hand smoke from my father, daughter and her boyfriend, and working in a grain facility with lots of dust.

So, doc gives me a 3pack antibiotic with pills larger than most men, one of which they want me to take immediately. Nasty fuckers. They also give me some really yummy cough syrup with codeine so as to make me sleepy and rest better. btw, it does not make me sleepy, nor does it make me sleep better. Annnnd, it is not yummy. Armed with those and advil, I'm off.

I head back to work. I think. I make the last turn onto the road on which our plant lies, and the brake pedal goes to the floor. No, I'm not kidding. I just bypass the office and pull up straight to the shop. I get out, and underneath the right front side is a newly forming puddle. If you look closely, you can see the trail. No frickin' way.

I leave word with the receptionist, and let them know I'll be back later for another loaner, and head back to work. Later that day, I go back over, and the foreman asks me what the hell it is with me and brakes. Look dude, I don't know what the deal is, this is some crazy shit. He says this is the last one; if I mess up the brakes on this one, I don't get another vehicle. I just laughed and told him to fix my damn jeep.

No troubles with the second loaner. Well, nothing mechanical. This was a full-size pickup truck. About three times the size of my jeep. I decide to back into the driveway at home because we're at the very end of a dead end street, and sometimes parking is crowded. I'm not going to fight trying to back around cars I cannot see. I back into my drive, think I've done pretty well. Then I get out, walk around to find that I still have well over a car length behind me. My daughter laughed at me. It was pretty sad. I told her I didn't know how to back up something that big that didn't have a trailer that swung the opposite way... and I was sick, so get off me already.

Today at work, I'm in so much pain, I can barely breathe. It hurts to laugh, cough, breathe too deep. Swell. My throat is raw from coughing so much, but it's not sore. Weird. I feel like if I cough really well, I should feel better. Wrong. I could only feel better if I hack up a lung. Which feels like a very distinct possibility at this point.

I took the third and final pill today. Whatever is in there is dying a slow, horrible, painful death. Know how I know? Because my ass burns from going to the bathroom all the time. I'm dehydrated, and I feel like I've been beaten from my chest to the bottom of my ribs. I shall soon have to wear a super-size pad backwards to cradle the hemmorhoids that will soon be making their debut. You know that involuntary clenching your body does when you feel the contraction all over, but nothing comes out except the sweat from your brow? Yep, multiply that by four. What progress we've made when the cure is worse than the ills. I keep breaking out into coughing fits, and it seems like a little more is coming up, but not much. I may be done with the pills, but they supposedly are super-doses and continue to work for another 4-10 days. great. Needless to say, I have not been working out at lunch this week. I could easily see me collapsing on the monster. My ass is still the size of Montana, and working steadily towards Texas with this week-long break. Always something.

Oh, and let's not forget that throughout this ordeal that started 3 days ago and the jeep breakdown, I am on my PERIOD.

That'll teach me to ever buy new furniture again... dumbass.

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*

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*

memorable days...

Ok, so I've been "dating." By dating, I mean going out repeatedly with Mr M, talking on the phone occasionally and chatting during the day several days a week before he goes into work when I'm on lunch. By repeatedly, I mean 1-2 times a month physically hanging out for about the last 4 months.

In all this time, it's been understood that we are not exclusive. He has always been open about the fact that he has lots of "friends", who happen to be female. His myspace page is testament to that. He talks about looking for a serious relationship, but it wasn't to that point. Good company, good conversation, and yes, good sex. And realistically, I haven't been turning down movie invitations from others, either.

So he comes my way to hang out at the mall, catch a movie and spend some time together. I notice he's being a bit odd. By odd, I mean quiet, reserved, not as amused as usual.

We're back at the house, checking stuff out on ebay, talking, and he tells me he has something to let me know. Here it comes... I figured he's decided it's too far a distance, or he's just not interested in anything serious or long-term. So I listen patiently as he talks about a dinner he went to with one of his "friends" a couple weeks back. When I talked to him on the phone previously, he told me about the restaurant, how the service was lousy, yada yada yada. Totally benign stuff. Well, this was different. He was intimate with her for a short time about 6 months ago. It passed, and they chit-chat and catch an occasional dinner or movie, but hadn't been together physically since before the holidays. No biggie, right? Well, not exactly.

"You know I am about using protection with anyone until I know there's no reason to?"

"Yea."

"Well, we did. She hadn't been with anyone for several years, and I asked her if it was still necessary, and she told me no."

"K."

*confused*

"She has herpes."

*blink*
*blink*
*head swimming*
*blood rushing through ears*


He could see it coming. "Wait a minute."


*breathe*

"I didn't want to tell you this on the phone, but our schedules haven't worked til now. I wanted to make sure you knew this. But the thing is, she just told me."

*blink*

"She said that at the time we were together, she wasn't having an outbreak, and hadn't had for awhile. And she said she knew I wouldn't want to be with her if I knew, just like the others."

*begin rant*

What a piece of shit. OMFG. How stupid is this person? And she would think you'd want to be with her NOW???

*end rant*

He was pissed at her. I don't blame him. I would be too if someone purposely lied to me about that. She only told him now because she's been trying to get him to have sex with her again, and she's having an outbreak because she's having "personal issues" (read: drama) in her life. She's beyond a fucknut. She is a rancid piece of whoreflesh who needs fucking stabbed. *breathe*

"She knew and didn't tell you? What the hell is wrong with her? She put you and anyone else at risk. And if she lied about herpes, what else is she lying about?"

"Exactly. I know. I can't believe it. I've been wanting to talk to you about it, but our schedules haven't mixed. I didn't want to tell you this over the phone. I've been to the doctor, he gave me information about it, and I've been tested. I should be getting the results back this week."

"Well, I appreciate you letting me know. At least now I can talk to my gyno and make sure I get tested. I'm sure it was difficult. "

"It's very difficult. I wanted you to know; I felt it was only right. And not just because of that. I don't go around sleeping with a bunch of women unprotected, and I'm pretty sure you're not bangin' anyone else. But, and this is going to make me sound bad, but you know how it is. I hang out with other friends, and if you and I don't see each other for a month or so, God this is going to sound bad, but I may see one or two of my other friends, and we have sex. But I am always careful to use something with them."

*stare*

Ok. I knew he had dinner, went to movies, shopping, etc with other women. We didn't go into great detail about other stuff, and I'm not a casual type person, but my stupid ass is just old-fashioned enough to think that having sex with someone meant a bit more than just going out on a date. And I'm not saying it was love, because we were far from that. After Captain Crazy, I learned not to put the heart out very easily.

*stomach turning*

Great. So, do I be pissed at him? For what reason? Because I'm a dumbass? He told me. He didn't have to, although it would have been morally and ethically wrong. Just like that stupid cunt who did not tell him because she was "afraid he wouldn't want to go out with her anymore."

Wrong. What she was afraid of was that he wouldn't have sex with her anymore. What is it with people these days? It's like they're looking to hook up with as many people as they can and solid committment is a non-issue.

And now that the rose-colored glasses have been ripped from my eyes, it is extremely clear from his conversation, the locations of the women he dates, his webpage, and the skanky messages that all the women in his little harem leave on it that he has no intentions of being serious with anyone at this point. He's having too much fun getting strange every week or so to consider anything other than occasional hookups.

Not my thing.

So do I create an account on his webpage server so I can leave a message about how this bitch of a skank has herpes and anyone who's been with him should be tested? Juvenile, I know. But so fucking tempting.

So after reviewing seven ways to kill someone without getting caught and regressing back to pre-therapy days, I put her out of my mind and moved forward. I checked out webmd, found out some information and know what to tell the doc when I go in. Um, yea, I am. Just 'coz someone tells me they did it, no longer means I believe it. Have I seen a signed affidavit that says so? No. Thankyouverymuch. Valtrex, anyone?

So I see him online from work and we chit chat a bit. I, with my warped sense of humor, make an offhand remark to something being as bad a bad bout of herpes. He was unamused. He finds nothing funny about either my comment, or the other woman who chose to not share on purpose. Can't help it. See the humor, or die a miserable, sour, jaded piece of flesh. I choose to be amused. Some days it's the only thing that gets me through.

So meanwhile, he tells me he's called his doc, and that the tests came back negative. Absolutely nothing. Fabulous. Hopefully mine will as well. As we all know, symptoms are different in men and women, and I've been compulsive about my sexual health up til now. I preach it to my kids. How sad that I have been a bad example. I feel so dirty.

Sorry kids, you truly do not know someone, even if you've slept with them. There should be so much more there than good times before you trust someone with your personal health. Nobody is going to watch out for you; you must watch out for yourself...

Sonofabitch. I actually LIKED him.

And now, for the REST of the story.... but to get there, you must go here... and to do this, you must have the key... contact me for one. These are rare.

Have a great weekend all... and stay safe.


*hugs*

miss b

and once again, miss b is a dumbass...

oh do i have some stories for you...

and since i'm at work right now, it will have to wait til i'm done waitressing tonight...

but there will be fodder for amusement.

and reasons for blackmail and murder.

coz now, miss b is pissed.

and now i'm done.

He Hit Her

Unfuckingbelievable.

Sunday night, ranting and raving about not getting the prom picture, he tears apart the armoire in her bedroom, pieces flying and doors breaking. He then hits her upside the head and as she turns to protect herself, again on the shoulder.

With his fist.

*blink*

I find out about it tonight.
And it's not the first time.

She was too scared to say anything before because she didn't want to make it worse.

The grandparents knew of the other times.

And Did. Not. Tell. Me.

*breathe*

I am calm-angry. You know the kind. The wheels are turning, the head spinning, and the need for silence to think is upon me.

Wait til you hear the REAL reason he was upset. Not because of the pictures, but because I ruined his junior prom by not going with him (we dated all through high school off and on) and now I've ruined HER junior prom FOR him because I got pictures with her and he didn't.

Are you fucking kidding me? What are you, twelve? Junior prom was 22 years ago. What does that have to do with anything at all about her prom now? You yelled this at her, and of course, because it was oh I don't know, FOUR YEARS BEFORE SHE WAS BORN, she didn't have a clue what you were talking about.

You

are a fucknut. A miserable excuse for a human being, and not worthy of being her father.

I'm so pissed off I've got a migraine coming on...

We interrupt this blog for this public service announcement...

*beep*

I must take care of this... I feel some crazy days coming soon...

hug your kids.
NOW.

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*

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

Who's the Mom?

Oh, Junior's got me pissed off about six ways from Sunday today...

Let's review: Junior = adult child (18), Pickle = nearly 17 yo child.

Background: I am at work at my second job at the bar. Apparently Junior comes home to find Pickle in a rather heated embrace with her 17 yo boyfriend. Pickle tries to collect herself as Junior begins yelling at this kid, telling him he is not good for Pickle, she doesn't need to be around him, and she's taking him back to his house. She then calls and leaves a message on my cell phone at work, bitching a mile a minute. This is to what I leave work.

Oh, and a message from Pickle's father requesting I call him as soon as I get this message.

It gets better.

*begin rant*

I call Junior to find out what's happening. Instant fight. She's pissed off because her sister is going to "ruin her life" and she's going to keep that from happening and obviously I don't care enough about my daughter to keep her from seeing this boy and putting her in a box so she never has sex and never gets pregnant and does something with her life... etc etc yada yada blah blah blah. I remind her that 1) she's not the mother and 2) it's not her decision to make; it's her sister's. I get the "bad parent" label. I tell her when she has a 16 year old daughter who does this, then she can come talk to me about being a parent. I ask what the message from Pickle's dad is about before I call him. She called him to tell him what happened.

Oh for fuck's sake... I spent YEARS getting this man out of my business and off my ass, got his family to stop sticking their nose in every single thing I do, and she does this. And she's pissed at ME because I'm pissed about having to go through this again. I remind her that I am in charge of my household, he has no business knowing what happens unless I choose to tell him, and she needs to back off everyone.

*sigh* I call Pickle's father. Who, btw, takes great pleasure in letting me know that not only did Junior call him, but his mother, his sister, and the kid's mother. He appreciated that she let him know what was going on, but he thought calling the COPS was a little over the top. I just about dropped the fucking phone. I told him I'd call him back.

Ring Junior's phone. It starts again. I ask her to let me know if there's anyone ELSE she called. She doesn't understand why everyone's pissed at her. (Me, her sister, her boyfriend, her friends.) You have got to be kidding me.

Let's review. You walk in on a private moment and proceed to go apeshit, BEATING UP THE BOYFRIEND, yelling at him to get the fuck out, calling both the parents, the grandparents, the aunt and embarrassing her further. Oh, and then, AND THEN, because you can't get him to get in a car with your crazy ass, call the fucking police. To do what? Besides call HER FATHER.

Hmm, nope, don't see it either...

So flash forward. I call back. I talk to Pickle. I let her know that there's a trust issue that's been broken in my home, that things like this happen at that age and we hope that she remembers the information we've given her, and the decisions she makes will affect her for years. She squirms about it a bit, and I lay it out. "If you are old enough to be doing that kind of stuff, then you are grown up enough to have adult conversations about it, and deal with the consequences. If not, then you should think about not doing it until you are able to answer for yourself."

Good Gawd. As if being caught in an intense makeout session wasn't enough. Christ on a cracker, I hope this doesn't scar her. It's difficult enough learning to be truly intimate with someone WITHOUT ptsd recurring from adolescent embarrassment by an older sibling who obviously doesn't realize she's NOT THE MOM.

Pair this up with the little scene about the dinner date with the Brickman (who, btw has not called since) and I'm about fucking done. I'm tired of being alone, her sister needs to learn fundamental decision making lessons - even if it's the hard way, and she needs to learn that she is not in control of anyone's life but hers. She's about to get a very painful life lesson. Her sister is not speaking to her. I'm done fucking around with her. Embarrassing the hell out of people is not the way to accomplish anything, and this would not be the first time she has made it difficult for me to be with someone.

*end rant*

i am tired of arguing with people. i am tired of stupid shit. i am tired of drama as a way of life.

Dark Clouds

fine morning
sudden wind change
overcast
no rain
occasional peeks of sunshine (2)
head spinning
overwhelming sadness
nothing helps ease my mind

*sigh*

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.

Deja Vu all over again...

The cell phone rings on the way home tonight... I know who it is, and I'm really too tired to have this conversation right now.

"Yea." I'm so pleasant when I'm foul and pissy.

"I'm sorry." beat "Are you still mad at me?"

"I no longer care."

Background:

Well, Junior came home after fireworks with Pickle and her little "friend" last night. Or should I say this morning. At 3:45 AM.

Drunker than anything I've ever seen. Trying really hard to talk straight. Stumbling around. Her sister and friend were not. Thank God.

So Junior was out on the balcony, sliding the glass door open and closed and talking loud. I finally got her to shut the hell up. Too late, as always.

She decides she's going to leave with her DD (who's waiting outside in the truck) and I tell her no. She calls him on his cell (cell phones are such an evil necessity) and has him come up. He assures me he hasn't been drinking, he just got off work (he doesn't drink very often anyway) but he didn't know where she got the alcohol because she came into the bar that way.

Let's Review: 17, 110 pounds, had 3 shots and 2 beers in 1 hour. His dad owns the bar where he works. mm-kay buddy, you're cute but not that cute and I'm old, but not stupid.

I reminded him she was 17 (granted 18 in 10 days) and he better not be where she's getting the beer. He says he has no idea where she got it, she was like that when she came in. She's supposed to be going to a 3 day outdoor concert in the area with him and his family this weekend, so she was planning on going back over there tonight. Of course, in her drunken wisdom, she's loud, weepy, and hell-bent on letting me know that in 11 days, it doesn't matter anymore and she's doing what she wants, so go ahead and ground her.

Heh. Ground her. That's a good one. It's all I can do to keep from choking the living shit out of her. (good thing 'zac's back... it could have been very ugly.) I tell her to leave; I'm done. She makes a loud production all down the hall.

I knew it wasn't over.

Two minutes later, I get the obligatory cop-knock. Surprisingly, it's not the cop. It's the DD with 2 open Bud Lights, and a closed one who hands them to me and says, "The cop's going to let us off with a warning, but you have to take these."

Motherfuckersonofabitchhowstupidcanyouget? *sigh* fabulous. I don't even bother going back inside.

I start down the hall; I see the cop's reflection in the window. I peek around the stairs and he requests we go outside to keep from waking the neighbors. I tell him I'll put some shorts on and be down... (just me ~n~ my USC jersey for bedtime!)

Dressed and aggravated, I make my way out the door. I'm very familiar with this fella. He's arrested her several times. He's always very pleasant. In another lifetime, I'm sure we would have dated. I digress...

What's the deal this time? I'm still not comprehending why she's not being arrested and charged with an underage again.

He's having two conversations... one with me and one with his dispatcher who has just called all cars to an even bigger episode. He apologizes, tells me that if it weren't for this call she probably would be arrested and says he'll make this quick.

She tells him she was drinking at home with me. OMFG. *breathe*

"No."

He looks genuinely surprised. "If she wasn't here drinking with you, I have to arrest her." He looks at me expectantly. Remembering the seatbelt/speeding ticket incident from years past (another time) I know I'm not going to have him ask twice.

"She wasn't drinking with me, but I woke up to this." I don't condone this, but she was home. She has now moved into my unpardonable area of lying for her.

This mollifies him. He explains to her silly drunk ass (as the Sherriff rolls up and she giggles and waves at him - I'm so proud) that if she leaves the parking lot, he has no choice but to arrest her because she has to remain with me.

She and I go back inside as he and the Sherriff explain to her DD that he needs to leave the city limits and not come back there tonight. (He lives in the next town over.) He takes off, cell phones are ringing, they're making plans.

She tries to talk her sister into driving her out to meet him because they're supposed to take off for the concert in the morning. I put my foot down. She's still young enough to be tagged with a curfew violation. It's 5a (I have to be up for work in 50 minutes) and she thinks she's going to walk to the other side of town (about 2.5 mi).

I ask her who was bartending tonight; she tells me she doesn't know. Fine. I get my keys, get her the hell out of there before she wakes the building again, and take her to meet him. Don't look at me like that. We have a bad history. I'm pissed off enough tonight that it would get ugly. And if she's gonna yak all over the place, let it be HIS family's place.

The ride was not pleasant. She says to me words that haunt me today. "Drinking takes me to my happy place."

Her father was a coke addict and a drinker. I never did one, and rarely do the other. She gets the proclivity from him. I have counseled, educated, and gotten professional help for her for the last 3 years. She has the knowledge; it's out of my hands now whether she uses it. I remind her of her father's issues and she's upset because I tell her she's embarrassed the family. This is what she tells me she's upset about on the phone today.

I pull up next to the DD, get out and open his passenger door. While she's coming around, I ask him who was bartending tonight. He says he was. By now she's in the car. I look at him, look at her and say, "Oh, so you don't know who was bartending, huh?" She get the "caught" look and sinks down - the depressive side of the alcohol has now caught up with her - and I slam the door and take off without another word. I get home in time for a 35 minute nap and stumble into work. It is not a good day.

FF to the phone conversation this evening. She's only doing it because she's bored; she doesn't have school to keep her occupied 'til fall, and it's no big deal, she didn't mean to hurt me, she's sorry, blah blah blah....

"Mom, you still there?"

"Yep, just flashing back 19 years ago." That hurt. She goes off. She's not her father, blah blah blah. He used to lie, cheat, steal and I remind her that she and her DD BOTH looked me in the eye and lied to me. I hate being lied to with a passion that is beyond explanation. And she gets that same look that passes over her face right before she does it - she can't control it and it pisses her off. I tell her I'm done with it. In a few short days, she's responsible for herself and I can only offer guidance. If she chooses not to accept it, she will pay the consequences.

Don't look at me like that. I've always made her own up to what she's done, take responsibility for her actions when she's had to go to court. She's worked and paid all her fines, and done her community service. And Lord knows I've done MY time with her.

She tells me she'll call me tomorrow. I care. I tell her "fine" and hang up.

This does not amuse me. She is being a horrible example for her younger sister, who thinks the world of her. I'm pissed because there is seemingly nothing that gets through to this girl that she has a great future if she would just

stop.

fucking.

it.

up.

*grrr*

I'm tired.

Just Bomb the F~*~ers...

Chavez Warns of Coming War With U.S.
Associated Press June 25, 2007CARACAS, Venezuela

- President Hugo Chavez urged soldiers on Sunday to prepare for a guerrilla-style war against the United States, saying that Washington is using psychological and economic warfare as part of an unconventional campaign aimed at derailing his government.

Dressed in olive green fatigues and a red beret, Chavez spoke inside Tiuna Fort - Venezuela's military nerve-center - before hundreds of uniformed soldiers standing alongside armored vehicles and tanks decorated with banners reading: "Fatherland, Socialism, or Death! We will triumph!"

"We must continue developing the resistance war, that's the anti-imperialist weapon. We must think and prepare for the resistance war everyday," said Chavez, who has repeatedly warned that American soldiers could invade Venezuela to seize control of the South American nation's immense oil reserves.

U.S. officials reject claims that Washington is considering a military attack. But the U.S. government has expressed concern over what it perceives as a significant arms build-up here.

Chavez - a close ally of Cuban leader Fidel Castro - told soldiers the Washington was trying to weaken and divide Venezuelan society, including the armed forces, without resorting to combat.

"It's not just armed warfare," said Chavez, a former army officer who is leading what he calls the "Bolivarian Revolution," a socialist movement named after 19th-century independence hero Simon Bolivar. "I'm also referring to psychological warfare, media warfare, political warfare, economic warfare."

Under Chavez, Venezuela has recently purchased some $3 billion worth of arms from Russia, including 53 military helicopters, 100,000 Kalashnikov rifles, 24 SU-30 Sukhoi fighter jets. Last week, Chavez said he is considering arms purchases, including submarines and a missile-equipped air defense system, as he prepares for a tour of Russia, Belarus and Iran.

"We are strengthening Venezuela's military power precisely to avoid imperial aggressions and assure peace, not to attack anybody," he said Sunday.

Opposition leader Julio Borges condemned the president's interest in acquiring weapons, saying the government should focus on reducing violent crime in Venezuela, which has one of the highest homicide rates in Latin America.

"This isn't resolved with military purchases and foreign tours," Borges said. "This is resolved with the determination of having a country with justice."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Is it me? Am I misunderstanding the amount of weaponry they intend to purchase? Does the visits to known terrorist-supporting countries bother only me?

*sigh* Number 3 is only beginning...

But wait, there's more...

yes, ladies and gentlemen, as if spiralling down into the seventh circle of hell via bipolar mood swings is not enough, let's add a bit more to the mix...

Night before last/yesterday was the worst swing I've had in a long time. They don't even build up all that slow anymore. Sometimes (seasonal) it does, but mostly it's a switch where I'm feeling perfectly fine and then BAM! I can go from cool to crazy in 2.7 - it's that quick.

Plus side: The moods don't usually stay for more than a week. If I can survive them without killing anyone, or losing my job, I'm good for awhile.

Down side: I can be up and down, wrist-slitting ready or drive-everyone-around-me-crazy happy within minutes of each other for days. It's like Jekyll ~n~ Hyde on LSD then Ecstasy. It can be downright painful. (Migraines usually follow - not to mention when I'm way "up" I will attempt superhuman feats of stupidity, forgetting that I am no longer 17 (or 25 or 30 - stop me now or I will sink again) and I do something wayyyy out of my physical league, thus bringing on pulled muscles, stiff joints and the like.)

On top of the monster mood swing the previous evening, and the horrid workday where I spent the better part of an hour (at different times collectively) sobbing against the bathroom wall quietly because I didn't know what else I could do, I get off work to this:

I call my daughter (she had called me earlier) whilst driving home.

Me: what's up?
L: (sad) nothin'
Me: are you alright?
L: i'm havin' a really bad day.
me: what's up?
L: I just got arrested.
Me: (hyperventilating out of sheer anger) what now?!! (Meaning: what more are you possibly going to do to fuck up your future before you turn 18?)
L: i was tired and was laying down to take a nap and the neighbors had their music turned up so loudly it was vibrating our glass door and windows. So I went down there to ask them to turn it down, they got in my face, the neighbor girl slapped me across the mouth, so I punched her.

Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God.

I cannot take one more thing. I can't. I'm barely taking in stop signs and traffic as it is, and now THIS? I am a danger to others on the road.

Someone had called the police. They show up just in time to see her punching the other 24 year old girl repeatedly as she's cowering in the corner. So of course, SHE gets the disorderly conduct. The other girl gets nothing. Which pisses my daughter off immensely. This is an ongoing problem with the people in this apartment below us. They constantly play their music too fucking loud, vibrating everything, it's usually so loud we can't hear our own television. When we go downstairs and knock on the door, they don't usually answer.

The cop issues the citation as we're in our apartment. My daughter is seriously upset because:

1) She's a minor and a 24-year-old hit her (Ok, kiddo, 17 with 5 1/2 weeks til your birthday... if you were 12, yes.)
2) We cannot press charges against the other girl. The prosecutor has to decide, and there were no witnesses except the other girl's friends and family.
3) She is the one in trouble. (The only thing the cop saw was her hitting the other girl.) She can't quite grasp the circumstantial (nail marks on her arm from the other girl, bloody lip) vs the concrete (the officer saw her hitting).

4) I am not going down there to beat this woman's ass and "stand up for her". *sigh* Great - now I'm a Piece of Shit mother because I'm not brawling with the neighbors. Not that I don't WANT to do this; I realize, however, that after the fact, going down there will a) land me in jail, b) cause me to lose my job and c) leave her and me homeless.

5) She doesn't think she needs an attorney. I tell her if she wants to work teaching young children, this time we need an attorney. She's lucky it was Disorderly Conduct and not Battery. The probation officer and cops are doing everything they can to help her, but she has to help herself for chrissakes.

I was done. I talked to the officer on the phone(with whom we have a "good repoire") and he explained what had to happen. I know the laws; my mom was a cop. I grew up around them. I knew what I could do and get away with. My daughter does not always believe me. I was screaming in the jeep, driving down the road, at no one in particular. I'm sure that had there been a hidden camera, someone would have made a lot of money off this one. I was a danger on the roadway.

I call one of my best friends. She has been through the rough stuff with my daughter with me. I tell her what's happened, why I'm so pissed and that I can't stand it anymore. 18 fucking years and I'm still working 2 jobs and raising 3 kids. Nothing has gotten better. Nothing has ever been "good". I haven't been able to have a life of my own because I was too busy living for everyone else. And I've worked hard to make sure my kids have every opportunity to do something with themselves, and she keeps fucking it up. I told A that I didn't want L to end up like me. She asked what that meant. I told her, 18 years, 2 jobs... etc. etc. I've done nothing, I've accomplished nothing and I've gone nowhere. And now that my kids are nearly grown, I still have nothing, can't do what I want to do and times like this are when having someone would mean the world to just be able to have them hold me and tell me it will be ok. Talking on a phone to someone is not comforting. She tries to reassure me that I'm not worthless; I'm having none of it. I end up hanging up on her. This is the first time I have ever done that. I have to call her and apologize. Tonight.

So I'm at home, and my daughter and I are going round and round. This incident is cause to get us kicked out of our apartment. I'm not real fond of it, but it's a roof. This I do not need.

I have to take off work to go to court. (My boss doesn't even know this yet.) I'm too embarrassed to have to tell him. Every time she does something right, she fucks herself up big.

*sigh* deep breath.

Back at work today... The mood isn't great, but it's stable. I'm not bursting into tears every 5 minutes, and I'm getting some work done. In part to the well-wishes and encouragement in comments. I'm very tired. I can't even write coherently.

Then one of the kids who works out in the yard, Zach (20 ish - girlfriend due in July) fun kid, comes in for the lunch break (like every day). He and I have a game. We play Tag. We're in the timeclock area, and we're slapping back and forth and I'm laughing so hard I can't hardly stand it. (I AM good at this; he's quick, but I'm quicker.) So much so that I had to have the HR guy double-check and make sure I'm clocked out for lunch. *smile*

And now, I'm back to my chest hurting and tears again This is what I mean. The swings are so wide and so diverse. How am I depressed if I'm laughing and having fun?

I've done the medication. I take it for about a year, then we (meaning me and doc) work my way off it. He doesn't think it's a permanent solution - I agree. We may both be wrong.

It works for awhile, although the last time, it didn't do much for me (I thought). What do I know? I'm not a doctor. Although, I am very in tune with my physiological side. It was great in that I lost weight (wasn't hungry), got a lot done, (actually felt like getting off my ass and I could FOCUS), and got some sleep (I decided I was tired, and I went to bed, to sleep.) I know, I know, it SOUNDS like it would be a good deal. And the pain tolerance - woo hoo! I could slice my finger peeling potatoes or slam my shin against something and I'd stop, look at it and say, "Hmm, that hurts." I knew it SHOULD hurt. :) I was superhuman.

I was also a zombie. I had no mood. It was the same mood all the time. Don't get me wrong; I'm not crazy about the "deliriously happy, tragically sad, raving lunatic angry" that I go through now, but I want to have SOME mood. I want to enjoy being around people. Have a personality. Enjoy sex. If I ever have it again. In this lifetime. With someone else. heh.

See? I'm in there. I like my mind, my humor. That part gets lost. It's been lost for years. I remember being happy, having hope, sparkling personality, dreams. I now have none of those. People bitch and whine about their significant others, and how they're miserable. I sit back and think, man, it would be nice just to have someone who's not my mom, or my brother, care about me in more than just a co-worker/acquaintance at the store kind of way. Grow the fuck up and be thankful you have someone. If you don't have a great relationship, take a look at yourself - are you giving any effort to improving it, or sitting on your ass and wishing it would get better?

We all have our problems, so why would mine be any more important than anyone else's? Really. In the scheme, I am insignificant.

It's better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all...
Bull.
Shit.

And there's where I'm done for now... I can't go to that part of my mind and heart. Not today. I'm not that far past this swing.

What a load of babbling... ignore everything, maybe the next post will be intelligible. I just want to be happy again.

Mommie Dearest?

http://news.aol.com/topnews/articles/_a/mom-and-kids-found-hanging-one-child/20070529112409990001?ncid=NWS00010000000001

What the hell is wrong with people these days? Don't get me wrong; there have been several times I wanted to kill one certain blonde, recent graduate *smile* :
when she was 3 days old, had her days/nights mixed up and I was bone-tired and imagined throwing her against the wall; when she swung at me and broke my nose (whole OTHER story); when I was getting at least monthly calls from the cops because she'd been busted at one thing or another and had to leave a good job.

I didn't. You don't. You SEEK HELP. I don't think insanity should play into it. If you were sane enough to fuck someone and make a baby, then you are sane enough to walk away, give them to someone for safekeeping, or make a phone call and have the authorities take over. Those children did not ask to be brought into this world, and we do not have the right to make the decision to take them out. If I want to go, fine... who am I to prevent them from having their own life?

Don't get me wrong, depression is an awful thing. I'm not talking about "man I look fat" or "my hair looks awful" depressed. I'm talking about the mind-numbing, don't-care-if-I-live-or-die, don't want to see anyone in the world depression that renders us incapable of doing even the most mundane things. (showering, changing clothes, moving from the same spot we've been in for days-literally) I've lived it. I still live it. It's worse seasonally. And mine comes on in the flash of minutes or seconds after months of cycling to the good. I learn the triggers, I learn what to avoid (and who) and I make morbid jokes (partly because of my twisted humor and partly because that's my help cry that my family and friends recognize when they need to step in) to get me through. I love Christmas; look forward to it every single year. This year 2 days before, I was ready to step in front of a train. It was devastating. And I've always been one to do what's needed because that's what responsibility is about. (First-born) There were very few (1) who knew how close I was, the rest had an inkling, but I'm pretty good at putting people off about it.

What a terrible future the sole survivor of this family has to face growing up with the trauma of this week. She doesn't deserve that. I hope she at least goes to a family who will love, care for, and treat her well.

*hugs*
Miss B

Recipe for Disaster

PMS + Rich Boat People + Me + Busy Restaurant Bar + Waiting Tables (NOT Bartending) =

Buahahahahaha.... EVIL BARMAID WENCH

What is it about rich folks who own boats who think they can act any way they want and it's ok? Why do my bosses insist on putting me on the floor on our busiest days when I'm the least experienced person there? Why is the sky blue?

I admit, I suck as a waitress. I waited tables one time in my life 21 years ago for 3 months, and this time now for 2 weeks. I have tended bar (and waited on folks for bar food) several times over the years as I was putting myself through school. I can be behind a bar, busy, and be fine. Put me out in the general population, make me remember sides, drinks and the daily specials, AND be nice to people... uh uh... ain't gonna happen. Especially during THAT week when someone just walking up and saying "Hi, have a great day" can cause me to morph into a psychotic sociopath within .042 seconds. If you think it gets better as you age, think again folks.

So when some high-side-of-65-snobby-hateful-talk-down-to-you-with-a-sneer-on-her-face-condescending-woman (AND her frumpy, frustrated, bitch of a daughter-or daughter in law-I don't know, all I know is she was just as rude and obnoxious) is yelling at me (and the owner) in front of all the other tables because "I come in here every Sunday, blah blah blah" and I have to apologize because the "customer is always right, even when she's a frickin' cunt," and none of the other mitigating factors matter, (green waitress, doubled-size restaurant just reopened with inadequate staff, new computerized order system that no one knows, inefficient system), I tend to become a vicious little bitch.

I'm not 100% sure, but I'm guessing most of my tips (heh, one of my better nights actually) came because the other people around this "woman" (I damn sure wouldn't call her a Lady) felt so bad for me that they "pity-tipped" me.

Guess if it helps pay the bills, I'll take the pity tip. I may, however, pop her in the nose if she comes in again.

*hugs*
Miss B

I just want some frickin' ice cream...

is that too much to ask?

Ok, maybe it's not so much the ice cream as it is everyone in the office was asked, except me. This is not the first time this has happened. And I truly don't think it's intentional, it's just I'm forgotten. Normally, I get along great with the others.

Last week, we were ordering from the local tavern. I spent 5 minutes during break chitchatting with the girls who were going down there to pick it up. We talked about what we were going to order. So about 10 minutes before lunch started (which is when someone usually goes to pick it up,) I wander back that way to put my order in and ask who I needed to give my money to for lunch. They looked at me like I had 3 heads. Then it was, "Oh my God... I'm so sorry." Yes, you are. By that time, the pick-up person had already picked up and was on her way back.

Today, again same thing. We order once in awhile from the local creamery - it's only open seasonally. Ice cream sounded good. It's almost 90 outside. It's been a shitty day.

I walked into work this morning to find out that my MS truck backed out on me YESTERDAY AT 2:30PM and NO ONE CALLED ME to let me know. This I find out at 8:20 this morning. Problem: We are out of product, takes 2-3 weeks to reschedule a load, our next load is not until mid-next-month, it's produce season and trucks are scarce. I have called every broker I know of, posted on 7 different freight sites, and am about to take the jeep down and pick it up.

How hard is it to pick up a damn phone? I'm tellin' ya, some of those places would be a great place to start a trucking company. If you were unable to complete your job, would you not let SOMEONE know so that damage control can be done? We have customers waiting to come in and pick this stuff up when the truck gets here. This is the part of the job I really despise; incompetence. Can't yell at them, because I still need their help today. However, they are now banned from any future freight. And he had the nerve to tell me that he yelled at his employees, but they were "waiting on him to show so he could call and get yelled at." fucken morons. I'd have had a few less employees.

I finished my Proficiency in Writing final last night. With the pending move, graduation, the graduation party, and the 2 jobs, it's been a bit hectic. I'm not thrilled with what I've turned in so far, but I could blow it completely and still walk out of there with an A. I just don't like substandard work in anything I do. And unfortunately, I expect the same of people I work with or hire to work for me.

Argh. I thought maybe a nice chocolate malt, or maybe a small snickers sundae with caramel and nuts would be just the ticket to make this day a little more tolerable...

Am I being too much of a bitch?

Too bad.

Pet Peeves

To match the mood of the day...

~*~ People at work who drip on the seat and don't wipe - ugh.

~*~ Same said people who leave pubes on the seat. Bastards.

~*~ People who make gestures and noises to indicate they are handicapped. I have a nephew with cerebral palsy; it just pisses me off.

~*~ People who sneer while they are speaking to you, as if you are less than them.

~*~ Lousy tippers. heh.

~*~ People who drive the speed limit.

~*~ People who don't drive the speed limit.

~*~ Tailgaters who ride so close to your ass you can't see their grill.

~*~ Truck drivers who talk on the cell phone while driving, but not hands-free.

~*~ Dumbasses who pull out in front of big trucks

~*~ Morons who pass, then slam on their brakes and turn left in front of me.

~*~ Stupid humor

E Pluribus Unum

Now, I'm aggravated.

I peruse a few blogs for amusement daily. One of them being Scott Adams' (creator of Dilbert comic) because he is at times, funny, other times not so much. The responses of his viewers however, can be quite comical if you have time to read through the hundreds of them.

Anyway... today he speaks of telling young men (18-21) to not enlist in the Armed Services and bring this thing to a grinding halt within the next 3 years. I'm. really. not. amused. http://dilbertblog.typepad.com/the_dilbert_blog/2007/05/dont_enlist.html

I don't like the war; I hate that our Heroes are dying. I like having a strong military that can go in and kick some ass if we need to, and protect ourselves. I know not everyone likes America and what it stands for; to each their own. If I had grown up in a different culture, who knows? Maybe I'd prefer the politics of the other countries. Right now, it's a stretch to keep up with our own.

Man, just pull our folks out, bring them back here and plant them around our borders. If the other countries don't want us near them, cool... we have enough to amuse ourselves with now. Quite frankly, we have all the outside visitors we need. Ya'll don't like us, but you'll come over here for education, subsidies, and a handout. Well, let's put an end to that bullshit. Take your happy asses back home, we'll keep on keepin' on over here. How about ending all the pc stupidity, and get back to Americans living in America?

Oh yes, I responded.

I'm so thankful we have the ones who choose to enlist there to protect everyone's free speech rights.

Sure, it may bring a temporary stall to the forefront. Then 3-5 years from now when our military is weak and overtaxed, we'll be calling a draft to protect ourselves from being overrun by outside terrorist groups, inner militia groups, and other countries who have been lying in wait for us to do something so assinine.

Now or later. Even in peacetime, those who enlist know that they could be called to war any given time. That's part of the job. We've been fortunate to have kept it off our soil (save the bombings at Pearl Harbor), and quite frankly, I'd be most happy to leave it that way.

Slowing down the enlistments will also wear down the ones who already serve even more. It's not logical.

I hate that our men and women are dying; I am glad they are here to keep me living in a lifestyle to which I don't always like, but I sure love. Where's the pride? Who stands up for America as a country? The mentality is now "what's in it for me?" and no longer "E Pluribus Unum".
Posted by: Miss Behavin May 18, 2007 at 07:32 AM

Man, one solution to create a myriad of problems. Not to mention the veterans who have read it who are made to feel like shit because they did their duty (is it really so much to ask to, for a short while, protect the country in which you live and which affords you a pretty decent lifestyle?) and have their fellow "countrymen" (I use this term loosely folks) tell youngsters to forget protecting us, just ignore it. (Tree huggin' hippie bitches).

Great, now I'm fucked off and I have no one on whom to take it out. Bastard. He's banned from my list of entertainment.

Goodbye Daddy!

(You HAVE to read the whole thing. A must.)

A father put his three year old daughter to bed, told her a story and listened to her prayers which she ended by saying:

"God bless Mommy,
God bless Daddy,
God bless Grandma
and good-bye Grandpa."
The father asked, "Why did you say good-bye grandpa?"
The little girl said, "I don't know daddy, it just seemed like the thing to do."
The next day grandpa died. The father thought it was a strange coincidence.

A few months later the father put the girl to bed and listened to her prayers which went like this:

"God bless Mommy,
God Bless Daddy
and good-bye Grandma."
The next day the grandmother died. Oh my gosh, thought the father, This kid is in contact with the other side.

Several weeks later when the girl was going to bed the dad heard her say:

"God bless Mommy
and good-bye Daddy."
He practically went into shock. He couldn't sleep all night and got up at the crack of dawn to go to his office. He was nervous as a cat all day, had lunch sent in and watched the clock. He figured if he could get by until midnight he would be okay. He felt safe in the office, so instead of going home at the end of the day he stayed there, drinking coffee, looking at his watch and jumping at every sound. Finally midnight arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief and went home.

When he got home his wife said "I've never seen you work so late, what's the matter?"
He said "I don't want to talk about it, I've just spent the worst day of my life."

She said "You think you had a bad day, you'll never believe what happened to me. This morning the milkman dropped dead on our porch."
************************

Heh.
OMG... *snort* *gasp* that was my daughter!!!

Just kidding folks... seriously, though, I've been reading about single-parent deployed Heroes who, in good conscience, make arrangements for their children with the other parent as they get ready to leave. The laws state that they are to be custody-protected during this time, but the individual states' Family Law courts are overriding the laws, leaving many of our deployed men and women to fight a battle both home and abroad.

This saddens me. As the parent of a child who asked for help from the father during a time I was ill, to have him and his parents sidewind and steal the child, this does more than sadden me. This pisses me the hell off.

I was only in school and having my appendix out. These folks are out there putting their lives on the line because that is the job they accepted. They should not be penalized for doing their duty. And the non-custodial, underhanded, sneaky motherfuckers who take advantage of this? Hang 'em for treason. They are causing increased stress in our Heroes. This, in turn, causes unnecessary accidents and distracts them from the task at hand.

If the courts did not see fit to place the child with you initially, stealing them and circumventing the process because of deployment does not make that child better off. The court battles that ensue do not help the children either. Believe me, I have looked into the eyes of a judge who told me I was pissing him off and to let it go. (See previous post about killing ex in-laws seven different ways without getting caught.) It creates much strife.

I know a couple Heroes who are going through this right now. It's hard to keep their spirits up, and that's my job as a Soldiers' Angels Team Leader. Give me one more reason to kick the ass of an unAmerican asshole who makes it more difficult in an already tough time.

There is no pain compared to having to leave your family for an unknown amount of time, knowing you may never come home, wondering if you will be the same, if THEY will be the same, when you return.

There is no pain compared to losing a child to a parent that is not the best alternative, but because you have a past (we all do,) from which you are forced to seek help.

I will be watching the law on this one. This is a cause about which I will voice an opinion.

Life is painful enough. Knock it the hell off already. Putzes.

feedback welcome... opinions are free here...
*hugs*
Miss B