Since the self-isolated quarantine has been imposed, most of us have had to stay and work from home. Some of us are lucky enough that we have jobs that allow us to do that, remaining on the payroll and such. But sometimes we have to actually go outside, such as the case with me last week. I had a mammogram scheduled back in January and then the diagnostics place called to reschedule for mid-March. Then they called me the week before last to reschedule me for last week on Weds. I understood the reason for them rescheduling my appointment, because of the current social and pandemic situation that they are scheduling patients to comply with social distancing purposes.
Thankfully this diagnostics/imaging place is only four blocks from my house, and I was asked to be there by 7:30 am. When I arrived they did have protocols in place to keep only a certain amount of people in the waiting room at a time. But, not everyone paid attention (Cheesus Crust this was annoying as phuck!) I arrived early, and as soon as I did, I saw a huge 5’x 5’ sign stating to wait by the door for the medical screener to ask you the appropriate questions and take your temperature.
It also states that if there are more than two people in line to keep 6 feet away from each other, there was even bright florescent yellow tape on the concrete sidewalk outside, six feet apart indicating as such. Since I was the very first one there, I had no problem as I was alone in the waiting room. They had positioned chairs in front of the intake desk to keep the mandated six feet apart from patients and the medical staff.
The screener asked me all the questions pertaining to the COVID19, and then swiped my forehead with a temperature scanner. Soon after the girl at the front desk called me forward, as the medical screener gave me the okay to proceed. She asked me for my paperwork, insurance card (which were placed inside a clear tray ) and gave me a clipboard of papers I needed to sign. She gave me back my stuff, and I found a chair where I sat and then watched in horror at the following….
Slowly other people began to file in, and then it happened……the Walking Senile started to take over and ignore the GIANT sign to wait and get screened!! These were all people over the age of 75, yes I can tell how old they were, the men by their pasty white legs, lose fitting shorts or pants up to their chest, white tube socks to their knees. And the women wearing polyester pants and Dr. Scholl’s orthotic shoes, sporting ten year old boy haircuts. They all ignored the explicit instructions in giant red letters, ignored the medical screener sitting right AT the door and then when told to go back to the door, where the screener was at, either couldn’t fucking hear what the staff was saying or asked like idiots “Why?”
A lady walked in with her daughter, past the screener right up to the front desk, MOVED the chairs and right up to the nurse conducting intake of patients. The nurse, who was clearly upset, told the old broad to go back to the door, get screened and wait to be called and leave the chairs in place like they were. The dumb ass bitch said “But why?!” extremely loud as so everyone heard. Just because you can’t hear doesn’t mean you have to yell out everything because you think everyone else can’t hear either….LORT!
The screener walked towards this Showtime Crypt Keeper looking bitch and then asked her if the other lady with her was her daughter.
The Crypt Keeper said that it was her daughter, then the nurse behind the intake counter told her that only patients to be seen could be in the waiting room. Again the fucking Crypt Keeper said in Spanish “But why? She’s my daughter.” I was just about to lose it when low and behold……yet another old ass motherfucker came walking in, past the giant sign, the screener and right up to the intake counter, moved two of the chairs and began to talk. By this time I could see the staff was getting more and more impatient and flustered with the people (old ass motherfuckers) walking in and ignoring instructions.
A male nurse came out from the back, walked up to the intake counter, asked the old fart if he was there to get some imaging and all I could hear was “Huh? What?!?” Oh gawd, I wanted to fucking scream. The male nurse asked him again, and the grumpy old man was like “Oh yeah, here’s my paperwork” and the nurse walked him back to the screener at the door. He yelled out “Where are you taking me?!?!” The nurse said he had to be screened before he could enter the waiting room and the old fart yelled “Huh? What? Why?!?!”
Clearly the asshole old fart needs hearing aids, but we all could hear him keep asking why he needed to be screened. Then after he was screened went right back to the intake counter and MOVED THE FUCKING CHAIRS AGAIN!!!!! The nurse behind the counter told him not to move the chairs (again) and he moved the damned chairs to get closer to the counter to hear the nurse who was telling him not to move the chairs!!!!!
I thought to myself, we’re in serious trouble if we have old people like this walking around contaminating us all. None of them were wearing masks, touching everything in sight, and being as annoying as fuck in the process. I include my parents in this because I’ve told them over and over that they aren’t to leave the house, under any circumstances. And what do I find out? They leave to the store or the post office when my brother leaves for work.
I was, to say the least, furious, and their response? “Oh it’s just to the store in our neighborhood or the post office” and I literally screamed at them that I was taking both their car keys with me (yes they both still drive.) And I did, knowing that both my parents can’t walk farther than a few feet without both of them sounding like Darth Vader having an asthma attack, I saw it as the only option.
Yes they were angry but I don’t give a fuck, if their generation is any indication that following protocols isn’t they’re forte, then we’re all going to die from COVID19!
Yes I know I sound like I’m old people bashing but they have been the group that either aren’t listening to all of the health mandates or don’t really care about them because their old goddammit and……….. “If I lived through small pox, I can live through this Crownvirus!’ Yes that was an actual quote from the Old Man from the UP movie
looking asshole who was standing in front of me while I was waiting to be taken back to the mammogram machine of boob torture. (The fucker did say crownvirus not coronavirus)
I told my good friend Deb (Aunt Debbie to the blogosphere) that I wasn’t sure what was more painful, the actual mammogram itself, literally having my poor boobs pressed in between two plates of glass for five seconds at a time (in different positions may I add) or having to deal with the Walking Senile/Stupid/Stubborn in the waiting room. Seriously, it’s a tossup here.
Random Thought of The Day
As grumpy, angry, or in total disbelief as I may seem at times (okay all the time) I have not lost all faith in humanity. Yes, I know it’s hard for people to believe that I actually said that. But the truth is, we, the human race are survivalists. History has shown how resilient we are, that every time we’ve been knocked down (usually be the stupid people in humanity) we’ve gotten right back up again to continue.
The video itself is a bit corny, four extremely talented singers comprised this group called The Highwaymen (well for those of you who like country music.) The lyrics to the song resonate with me and I know this song may not be about the current situation but it has a much deeper meaning to it if you listen to it.
This is the Huntress, wash your hands, stay safe and for god-sake STAY HOME!!
Since I’ve been working from home, and yes, I have really been working, I have come across some very interesting people in my neighborhood, not that I didn’t know them, I just hadn’t written about them. Arionis, mentioned that maybe that working from home, I may not have any blog material to write about, giving people their pet names and such. Not so, as I have plenty of people in my neighborhood that I can make fun of….ahem write about.
I pondered this and realized that there is always blog material to write, some interesting and others……. not so much. I live in a somewhat quiet neighborhood, I say somewhat because I have a neighbor, whom I’ll call Prick Harley Guy. This motherfucker has been my neighbor across the street, three houses down the left from my front yard. I don’t know what his real name is, all I know is that his last name is Casas.
He’s a complete asshole who thinks his neighbors who want to listen to his arguments with his family. Seriously this prick yells at his kids and whatever girlfriend was stupid enough to give him a chance at a relationship, loud enough for everyone in the neighborhood can hear. I’ve heard him yell things like “And you think your special enough for me NOT to wear a condom?!” to some poor woman who yelled back “Oh hell no, I never asked you to NOT wear a condom, I asked you to make sure you put it on asshole!!” Yeah shit like that.
And if people were out in their front yards while his verbal diarrhea spewed like a giant lewd lawn sprinkler he’d yell at the neighbors “What?! You people have nothing else to do but listen in on private conversations?!?!” Yep, he’s that stupid if he thinks yelling at his family and/or girlfriends in his yard loud enough for everyone in a two block radius to hear is a private conversation…..lort give me patience.
So he got his name because he used to be an over the road truck driver, and was away for weeks at a time. We’d know this because the neighborhood would be totally quiet and serene. Also because when he’d be home, the prick would park his rig in front of his house. But it was the fact that he had this huge Harley Davidson motorcycle, and early on the weekends when he was home, he’d get on it and rev the fucking thing (many, many times) and wake up half the neighborhood. Or late at night when everyone was asleep, again no social cues whatsoever.
My son was on the verge of going over there to shut him up, but I told him that going to jail wasn’t worth that assholes idiot ass. Then, two years ago, he went silent and all of us wondered (happily may I add) what had happened. Then one day, I saw him out in his front yard and he sat there, quiet as a mouse and thought to myself, well that’s weird.
A couple of weeks went by and I found out from another neighbor that the asshole had an accident on his Harley. It seems he almost became a hood ornament for a Mack truck……oh the irony. The fucker was learning how to walk and talk again…..karma is a fickle bitch sometimes don’t ya think?
Then there is RedNexican Trailer Trash Guy, who lives two houses down from me on the corner to the left. This asshole motherfucker thinks he lives in a trailer park (not that there’s anything wrong with that, so don’t go getting your knickers in a twist, you know who you are) because he has five, YES FIVE piece of shit Toyota SUV’s and trucks on his lawn. Apparently he modifies these things for money. Lifting them, adding roll cages, light bars, extra luggage racks on top so they can carry gas cans and shit. On the weekends he and his trailer trash friends who pay him to modify these monstrosities, gather and weld, drink beer and make all kinds of stupid noises coming from his house. My son did go and have words with him because the prick cleaned his yard and left all of his trash in a pile and it was windy that day and we wound up with his trash in our front yard.
My son (don’t ask me how) made the fucker come and pick up his trash and stood there over the guy (who is considerably smaller than my giant son at 6’1) while he picked up all of his yard waste from the front of our house. All I heard after he was walking away was my son saying “Don’t fucking do it again” and RedNexican Trailer Trash Guy not once turning around, walked into his house. I’ve hated this guy since he moved in, as neighbors we all know each other and go out of our way to introduce ourselves to new neighbors. When I and some other neighbors tried, this asshole just ignored us and walked into his back yard. So there are so many reasons to hate this mofo, oh and I’m pretty sure this bastard killed my neighbors cat, Keanu. Keanu was a huge lovable feline who was my cat’s BFF. My Neighbor Laura was so distraught she got sick, she thinks RedNexican might have poisoned Keanu, therefore I hate this asshole.
Then I have Mr. and Mrs. USMC, a retired Marine and his wife who live across from RedNexican Trailer Trash Guy, and across from me two house down on the opposite corner. They are the sweetest couple I’ve ever met. He served in Vietnam and retired from the Corps in 1986, became a math teacher at a local high school and retired from there in 2003. They have a huge family and they are always over during football season. The only thing bad about these neighbors are………….they’re Cowboys fans.
Then directly across from me I have Asshole Gary and his wife Ann, Asshole Gary got his name for just that, being an asshole. He and his wife do the most inane things like having their granddaughter’s birthday party in the fucking front yard!! Jumping balloon and all AND leaving the jumping balloon up for almost a week. That is when the Huntress called the city compliance department letting them know they didn’t have a permit to have that thing up more than three days. The Huntress knows her city ordinances dammit, and if you have a huge castle shaped jumping balloon in your yard along with all the trash from that stupid party, I’m going to fucking report your dumbass! Asshole Gary has no verbal filter, and when I began to run outside I’d run by his house and he’d yell out “Hey, you’re getting in shape for your imaginary husband?” and he’d laugh to which I’d respond, “Yes Gary, you prick, how about you go put on a t-shirt because your huge gut isn’t imaginary and all the neighbors get nauseated looking at you!”
They he’d get pissed, seriously the asshole gave me looks after I’d respond to his comments and actually looked surprised…….now THAT’s a stupid person when they look at you when you insult THEM, not realizing what they said to you. His wife isn’t so much annoying as…weird. She has a life-size Elf On A Shelf she puts in the giant living room window during the holidays. Which is really unsettling when you leave for work in the early morning hours and see that stupid, giant life-size, child scamming, mind-fucking toy staring back at me while I get in my car to go to work. I flipped-off that stupid giant toy every time I left work during the holidays.
Then I have Opposite Andy, my neighbor in the back who uses his chimney during the summer which is odd enough and bbq’s in the dead of winter singing all the Triumph, Boston and .38 Special songs he can remember the words to. He’s the owner of Rocco and Jerry the two German Shepard dogs my cat Charlie likes to taunt while sitting on the rock-wall that separates our back yards. Charlie sits there on the wall, listening to the dogs bark their heads off, all the while swinging his long tail back and forth as if bored by the dog’s reaction. He has a ton of step-grandchildren, annoying step grandchildren at that. Those little bastards constantly fling basket, soccer, base and footballs over my backyard fence. I had two giant boxes of these toys I’ve donated to Goodwill because they wouldn’t come get them from my yard. I think they’re afraid of me, which considering the situation is a good thing because they are brats with a capital B!
Then on the left side of my house I have Laura and her husband Mario, I don’t have nicknames for them because they are my caring neighbors that have looked out for me and my house when I’m not here. In return I do the same for them, they are a middle-aged couple with two adult daughters and two cats. Their daughters are both married and live out of state so they live by themselves, and on occasion they have family over on the weekends to bbq in the backyard and invite me over to join. I love them to death so therefore, no nicknames.
Then I have Karaoke Asshole Singers who live right behind Laura and Mario, these pricks love to bring out their Karaoke machine in the middle of the week AND in the middle of the night and sing…..LOUDLY! El Paso has a noise ordinance that you can’t have any loud music/noise after 1am. But it’s a bitch to get that enforced, if you call the police, they never show, or the police dispatch will tell you that it’s not an emergency and they will get a police cruiser out “as soon as they can” which means, they don’t care. I do realize that the police have better things to do but when you have a neighbor who doesn’t work and sings all night (and badly may I add) keeping the rest of us up during the week, one has to get creative.
Because the Huntress has many friends in law enforcement (no not because I’ve been arrested) and decided to call in a favor with one of them (I had no choice, Karaoke Asshole Singer was getting out of hand). So my friend James paid that neighbor a visit one night while he came to visit, James is a detective with the county Sheriff’s department. I don’t know what was said or done but Karaoke Asshole Singer stopped singing after midnight, well at least during the week anyway. Because of which Opposite Andy, Laura and Mario thanked me, I got a bottle of Tequila from Andy in appreciation. Hey the Huntress does what she can to keep the peace in the neighborhood.
Then there is Faux Carry Bradshaw and her husband Mr. Small, they live next door to me on the right. FCB and Mr. Small are called so because they bought the house next door about a year and a half ago, relocating from Alpine Texas. At first she seemed like a nice enough person then she began to ignore me, and when I say ignore, I was in no way going out of my way to talk to her. But her husband Mr. Small always waves to say good morning or good afternoon, and she did too at first. Then she stopped, I would wave and she’d just look at me, get in her car and drive away. I thought to myself well that’s rude, so I stopped and then I noticed she dressed like she was in Sex and the City. Before I move on, I know people think Sarah Jessica Parker’s character in that series is some kind of fashion icon. But I beg to differ, she had horrible fashion taste but that’s just me.
That’s how FCB dresses, mismatched outfits, shoes and wearing things like feathers and puffy scarves with so much bling it’s blinding. The bitch works in a call center for God sake, and dresses like she’s living in NYC?? She’s snobby and narcissistic thinking she’s “the” most beautiful woman on the block. She began to run about the same time I did, and I’d pass her while she was “running” and think to myself, she’s not running for running sake. She’s running to show off what she’s wearing. I on the other hand run because I’m training for my very first run, an 8K in April. Hopefully it won’t get cancelled, I’d be okay with it if they postponed it for later on this year because my goal was to run a 5K. But I was stupidly convinced into running an 8K, which is a little over five miles. Anyway, FCB and Mr. Small live next to me and my cat Charlie and their Cat Grady fight all the time.
I’m sure it’s because of Grady (Grady is a female) her having her owners narcissistic attitude as well. And Charlie being, well my cat is putting Grady in her place. Bringing her down to earth so to speak in a feline way, about her bad choices of cat fashion and running attire. Who would have thought that I was already practicing social distancing with my annoying neighbors, eh?
Remember practice social distancing, wash your hands and stay safe everyone!
So its official, our institution mandated that we all begin to work from home effective immediately. Thursday was the first day of me working at home, which to be honest I didn’t think I was going to like. Because of the fact that I don’t have a printer, I wasn’t going to have access to our shared drive where all the proposal files we’re all working on are shared and because I didn’t think I had it in me to actually “work” from home without my “life” getting in the way. But there were some setbacks, first of all our department didn’t have enough laptops for everyone to use. So, the alternative was to schlep home our all in one computers, which at first I was thinking to myself, are these people serious? These people meaning my director and the IT guys.
Then when I was made clear that we would have to bring them, I realized that maybe working from home wasn’t a good idea. This entire COVID-19 has made life crazy, but when you work in a medical school it can make life unbearable. Because we found out that there were no protocols in place in case we had to actually work from home. So since last Monday, our entire university and department have been trying to get this telecommuting thing going. Social distancing has been a blessing for me at least, why? Because I can wake up, take a shower, not put any makeup on, and work in my leggings or PJ’s in the comfort of my own home. Also, because not once today have I heard gawddamned Baby Kermit gerp….NOT ONCE!!!!!
I’ve eaten Fruity Pebbles at my desk while editing a huge proposal, I’ve had four cups of coffee with my favorite creamer without having to worry about someone else taking it from the communal fridge.
I’ve binge-watched episodes of Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown, if only to reconnect to someone I considered an old friend. And I’ve danced around my living room watching Tiffany Haddish dance and curse in the film Girls Trip………… it’s called MULTITASKING.
AND I’ve actually gotten a lot of work done because of these “mood breakers” as I call them. Because when I get to the point that I’m just going to go over the edge with work. I break that mood by doing something one can only do at home (like dance in your living room.) I have caught up with all the archiving from previous proposals, I’ve caught up with my emails and I’m actually progressing on the proposals that are due next week. So the way I think of it is, I may just ask to work from home permanently…
Well that is if I don’t get the job I applied for with JP’s department that is, because I’ve realize just how distracting working in a conventional office is. People walking in and out of my office, popping in without notice, all the other people talking extremely loud. Not to mention the ungodly noises that idiot Baby Kermit makes. My pregnant, and now micromanaging supervisor constantly coming in and asking me to re-do things her way, instead of how I normally do them. She wasn’t like this for the entire two years I’ve been here until she got preggers.
Yes, I’m blaming her constant mood swings, and sudden micromanaging on that little parasite she’s carrying at the moment. But I digress, realizing that self-imposed isolation isn’t as bad as people think, if it is for our health. What I don’t take kindly to are the people over exaggerate things to the point of hysteria OR the people who don’t take this situation seriously.
And I will almost always make my sentiments known if I encounter either, because if you’re a professional, in this case a PhD and consider yourself “educated” and are dismissive of the current climate regarding COVID-19, then you should be bound, gagged and beaten with tube socks containing large bars of soap until you come to your senses. This is the case with my friend Veronica’s boss, a PhD, and as Phoebe from Friends once said “You’re not a ‘real’ doctor.”
In this situation, I’m going to have to agree, just because you have a PhD doesn’t mean your smart, and believe me I’ve dealt with plenty of PhD’s that have a god complex and they aren’t M.D’s who, have the experience and skill to save lives, and they, at times have the biggest God complex’s I’ve seen. This dumb bitch is whining because she can’t “understand” why she can’t travel, and attend all the conferences she paid for almost a year prior. I’m thinking to myself, oh if only I could punch a bitch……
These are the kind of stupid people who spread viruses like these, the so-called “smart, educated” people who don’t believe in washing their hands, or listen to a university’s work from home protocols, and travel restrictions. They’re so smart, they’re stupid kind of smart. And these are the people that need to be volun-told they needs to be self quarantined for other peoples sake, not their own. Gawddamen, it amazes me how stupid people can be at times.
Random Thoughts from the Huntress
I remember my parent’s watching Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show when I was a kid. But because I was so young, I didn’t get many of the jokes. But now as adult, I can honestly say some of his shit is hilarious. I’ve been watching CNN and then commercials for a series about late night shows is going to air, and they have Johnny Carson portraying the Great Carnac, below is the meme of the skit that had me laughing out loud this morning, enjoy!
This is the Huntress, stay safe my fellow bloggers, over and out!
I’m going to be honest here, this post WAS NOT going to be about the CORVID-19 and the mass hysteria and now the Stupocalypse that it’s caused. Because lets face it, if this were the end of the world as we know it, the stupid people hoarding toilet paper, hand sanitizer and Clorox will be the very first to go. Those of us who were smart enough not to panic because we weighed the facts over myth and panic, can then wait for the Walking Stupid to die and we can raid their homes for the TP, hand sanitizer and Clorox for ourselves. I’m talking the cream of the crop stupid, check out this news report from Charlotte, North Carolina warning people NOT to drink bleach! Seriously, it would be the end of civilization as we know it if we had to depend on the Walking Stupid (who drink bleach apparently). To which I’m going to include the cable media, it’s ridiculous how bad they over-exaggerate things. Okay yes they do have informative things to offer, but I digress….
Back to the current social and medical conditions affecting our country, because I work in a medical school, the faculty members of the Infectious Diseases unit, came down to lecture us on the what, when, who and where of the COVID-19 situation.
I’m not going to sit here and get all technical, medical or statistical about the aspects of this virus, because I’m not a physician. I do, however work with people who are, and some of them are experts in infectious diseases and when they tell me, to go about my day and try not to get sick, I’ll listen. They also said to keep up with, if not be more aware of our sanitary routines such as washing our hands, covering out mouths when we cough and sneeze and making damned sure that we wash all the produce you buy from anywhere. Because this virus is passed from person to person, someone who has contracted it, can touch almost anything and pass it on. They recommend to wipe down the door knobs in our house, and try not to touch the railings on stairwells in public places and such. Okay my OCD already keeps me from touching the railings on public stairs as well as the buttons in elevators and stuff. I wash my hands so often its bordering on obsession but I know I’ll be a lot more careful than most people out there. Anyway, if these experts are telling me to go about my daily life as normal, I’m going to listen. Oh and for those hypochondriacs out there, who love to take antibiotics for literally EVERYTHING, don’t!!!! Heres why, this is a VIRUS, antibiotics will not help you in this case because they are only prescribed for bacterial infections people!! And if you keep taking antibiotics even when you don’t need them, you will build up a tolerance for them and then when you need them, they won’t work! I can’t stress this enough, because the doctors in our department said so, and I’m going to listen.
I won’t go to Walmart or Target to buy out toilet paper in mass, as Dr. Raj said (yes that’s his real name) told us to stock up on things we’ll actually need if we have to stay home, such as broths, veggies, canned soups and such, things we can keep in the freezer. He also said to stock up on Gatorades and/or Pedialyte to prevent dehydration. But most of all he said to monitor our vital signs, like spikes in body temperature, sore throat, cough etc. Because the sooner we can spot these, the better the chances are for us to get treated and overcome this virus, if that is what we come down with. He also said calm, cool reasoning and facts will always overcome myths and mass hysterics, always. He also said that this virus isn’t airborne, one can only get it through person to person contact, and those who are over the age of 65 are more susceptible to catching this. As well as those who have respiratory issues such as COPD, asthma, bronchial suppression or other difficulties such as these. As well as immuno deficiency problems.
There have been two confirmations of the corona-virus here in El Paso. The mass hysteria that El Paso had been insulated from in the last couple of week had its bubble burst Thursday with an announcement from our University’s President, and mass departmental meetings were in full swing afterwards. My director called an “emergency departmental meeting” to inform us about what the protocol regarding this virus the University is going to put into place if things get bad.
Well guess what, the university doesn’t have any protocols for anything like this, because (this is purely my opinion) there isn’t anything anyone can do about this. Like when the Bird Flu/N1H1 and SARS hit, and everyone and their mothers were worried about contracting these. Lemmings/people gave into mass hysteria (again) and bought tons of hand sanitizer, Clorox wipes, Lysol and masks (sound familiar?) So, our meeting was going okay until gawddamned fucking Baby Kermit started with her gerping. I sat there, trying not to throat punch her or pull her by ungodly long hair or grab her by her HUGE pointed nose, drag her out into the parking lot and stomp her ugly, gerping ass into a bloody puddle on the asphalt…..
My restraint was, to say the least, put to the test listening to not just her gerping but her stupid voice as well, she’s fucking 56 years old and she talks like a child, a high pitched, uneducated child, calling people “dude” and “bro.” When I say, people I mean faculty members and higher-ups. Anyway, our director told us that if the university decides to shut down we would have to work from home. I almost couldn’t contain my excitement, don’t get me wrong I do NOT want to work from home and definitely do not want anyone I know to get sick with this corona-virus thing (okay, one, one person and I’ll give you a hint, she fucking GERPS all damned day). Yes, yes I’m evil, tell me something I don’t know……
So they began to tell us what would happen if we did, we’d still have to work, the IT dept would give us secured access to our files and emails, and we’d have to submit time-sheets and stuff. But most importantly……I’D BE AT FUCKING HOME NOT LISTENING TO BABY KERMIT AND HER ANNOYING BODILY FUNCTIONS!!!! Let me tell you how bad this has gotten, not only am I looking for another job (and I love my job, okay I’d love more pay) but the other girls in the office complained to their supervisor, another director, about how distracting this noise is, our receptionist almost walked off the job on Thursday. Yes! It’s that bad, because Kermit’s office is right in front of the reception area, not only where our receptionist sits, but where visitors, dignitary’s, students that are interviewing for entrance into the medical school and faculty members from other departments sit and wait. Can you imagine what a horrid first impression people get from listing to this annoying bitch and her constant, loud, bullfrog throat clearing?!?! It’s insane, and if our receptionist walked out that morning not wanting to come back, then it’s really bad. The only thing I could find to sound like her nasty noise making is the video below, and in that respect I’m being really, really nice. But just imagine listening to this shit, all day long, and way worse than this….
So, her supervisor and the other girls in the office got together to go and complain to their director. Then one of the girls told me that their director was going to go talk to my director about this. It’s gotten to the point where she annoys people just by being around them, and they know the noise she makes. I hate her, seriously I do mean… HATE WITH THE FIRE OF A THOUSAND SUNS kind of hate.
One person is making the majority of us uncomfortable, not to mention annoying us half to death and we are all coming up with all of these preconceived notion about her due to her horrid, dirty habit. Oh did I mention she dresses like a slob? No? Okay so we work in one of the Vice President’s offices, and when we’re hired, we’re told that we are required to wear “professional dress” and on Friday’s we are allowed to wear jeans, but they have to be tasteful in manner and professional casual. Kermit seems to really channel the 1970’s with her horrible taste in fashion. Yes I know what I sound like but if we’re all told we have to dress professionally, then why in the FUCK does she get away with dressing like she lives in a goddamned hippy commune?!?! Tie dyed, awful shirts/blouses, bell-bottom pants that seem to have come from the Goodwill and shoes that doctors and nurses wear in the OR’s? They look like Crocs but less attractive…ugh.
Yes this is what she wears while the rest of us wear business suit attire, dresses, heels or flats and/or slacks with button down blouses or shirts. This along with her unsightly, one length un-kept long hair, like Crystal Gayle only not as glamorous or as long, about below her flat ass. I mean, we’re held to a higher standard, why the hell isn’t she? I doubt that even if she tried to dress professional she’d fail. The only thing she’d look good in is a body bag! It just makes our already bad impression of her even worse. I know one shouldn’t judge someone on what they look like.
But after she got hired everything went downhill, professionally as a department and in attitude towards how most of us perceive her. And it all started with her annoying habit of her loud, annoying throat clearing. She has a fucking door in her office, I think why in the fuck doesn’t she doesn’t use it!?!?!
So if our University decides that we will have to work from home, I’ll be writing my blog in my pink/black polka-dot pj’s, comfy slippers, huge cup of coffee in hand and watching Lone Star 911 on Hulu.
And of course I’ll be working from home, I’m responsible enough to know I have to do what I need to in order to keep up with my professional responsibilities. And I will do so from the serene silence of my own home. But in between proposal prep and submissions I’ll watch Rob in his firefighter uniform, because if anyone can make me feel better, it’s watching Rob Lowe and his sexy 56 year old self….seriously the dude is hot for his age, lol.
This is the Huntress, remember this too will pass, over and out!
Growing up, I was never shown how to be a “girl”, well not from my mom anyway because my parent’s wanted a boy, a thought they’ve shared with me since I can remember. In any case, as a pre-teen and teenager I learned my feminine ways through either friends, their moms or on television. My mom never even shared with me that one day I was going to get my period let alone makeup instructions or birth control, but I digress (yes again). It’s taken me literally 30 years to hone my personal look, and with that I’ve experimented with all different kinds of makeup. Some successful and some, well not so much. But one thing that has been a constant for me is lipstick.
As a little girl my mom sold Avon, she was very successful at it, she was one of the few Avon Ladies (back then and in our part of El Paso) to win the Avon Calling Door Knocker Pin.
The Diamond and Black onyx Avon Service Award Pin
The Sapphire Award Pin
And the President’s Club Pin
And several awards that were plates, some I can’t find images to. But because my mom was an Avon lady I got to try a lot of the cosmetics she would sell, as Avon use to have these tiny cute lipstick samples that came in their very own case, that she gave to her customers and put in their order bags.
She also had her very own case to carry her stuff in, I wish I’d known this would be vintage and be selling at extremely over-inflated prices online. I would have kept the one she had in the storage room.
Anyway, I loved to try on all the lipstick samples and quickly found that my skins undertone which is olive, most lipsticks would turn different colors on me. So anything melon color would be extremely bright and old lady looking, anything brown would be red on me, and anything red would be orange, ugh. Frustrating to say the least, but in my 30’s I came to find the perfect color for me, it was RED. I would continue to buy red lipsticks from my mom, and even though I felt that the color wasn’t exactly what I wanted I began to improvise. When I began buying the Avon lipsticks, there was a line called Perfect Wear, and I LOVED it. Because no matter what I did, ate, drank or kissed (yep this is important) the lipstick didn’t budge and it wasn’t dry or flaky either.
Then it happened, they changed the formula and then the lipstick line, it started as Perfect Wear, then Ultra Rich/Color to Extralasting then True Color (I think) either way, the reds or browns never really fit me. That is until, low and behold I saw a YouTube video about how to make one’s own lipstick colors by combining lipstick shades. I loved this lipstick line with a passion and at first it was Chocolate, then Rich Brown (which was actually red on me) was my go to lipstick, and now it’s Perfect Red.
With a little help from Rimmel’s London by Kate Moss lipstick line, specifically #01. It’s a red these two colors combined give me the perfect red for my taste.
So, let me explain the title of my post, as I was perusing through articles on lipstick earlier this week I came across this one by Jacqui Palumbo from CNN. About how red lipstick has had a long history of defiance starting with the Suffragettes in the 1920’s. When they marched by Elizabeth Arden’s newly opened boutique, Arden herself apparently gave the passing suffragettes tubes of red lipstick to wear. You can read the full article here.
So why a vamp? Oh let’s just say that when I began working at this university in the clerkship program the lipstick color I wore the most was red. Or two of the colors I wore to make the one perfect color. Then one day my director (a woman herself) asked me “Where do you buy your lipstick?” I thought this was going to be an actual honest question because she liked the color. I was wrong, she decided to let me know that the color I was wearing was inappropriate for my job. She’s a beautiful but insecure older woman with trust issues because her second husband cheated on her with a Latina (she’s a white lady to clarify).
I told her that my lipstick color was actually two, and that I combine them to make my own unique color. She looked at me up and down, with those criticizing eyes and said “Well maybe you should mute that color, it’s not appropriate for the clerkship.” My smart-assy pants took over and I asked her “According to whom? You or medical education?” She rolled her eyes at me and then I said “You know, what you just said might be misconstrued by someone with ultra-sensitivity as not only narcissistic but completely hostile. Maybe you might want to try a little red lipstick once in a while.”
She looked down at her clipboard, and without looking at me said “Red lipstick is for vamps and tramps” and walked down the hallway. Well, if y’all know me at all you know that I was raging mad at this insensitive comment. But, I maintained my professionalism and went about the day. We were observing the 3rd year medical students in their simulation tests and had to walk from one observation room to another. Each time passing each other in the hallway, and every time I passed this bitch, my anger grew. We soon had to break for lunch, and apparently by this time she was in a better mood and walked over to me and said “So, where are we going to lunch?” and I told her I had to go to HR.
She asked why, and then I told her to file a complaint against her for the remark she made about the red lipstick. Her green eyes grew wide, and she began to follow me down the hall as I walked away from her. She ran to catch up to me and then reached for my shoulder to say “You aren’t really going to HR are you? I mean, I meant it as a joke.” I looked down at her (she’s a short bitch, about 4’11 or 5’ at the most) and said “A joke? Seriously you meant it as a joke?”
She began to laugh, as she put her newly engaged hand along with a huge piss yellow diamond engagement ring on her forehead, as in disbelief. It was about four or five carat that her so-called fiancé bought because she pressured him into it, she also kept mentioning that it cost more than her Porsche to the med students, how tacky is that shit?
She said that she hadn’t meant for it to come out that way. I told her it sure as hell looked like she meant what she said, and that if she ever did it again I’d not only go to HR, I’d make sure that Medical Education knew about her derogatory comments. She said “Derogatory? What? I never said anything to the like.” I repeated what she said, the whole “Red lipstick is for vamps and tramps” line and she laughed and repeated that it was a joke.
It made me even angrier, so got as close to her as I could and whispered “It’s not funny that you insinuated that I was a tramp, and if you do it again I will make sure you regret it.” She looked up and me and said that I was threatening her. I laughed (like she had previously) and said “Oh, it was a joke” and turned to leave. Later on that day, on our last simulation exercise another director commented on her huge piss yellow diamond engagement ring. Saying how big and beautiful it was. I rolled my eyes as I checked off the students coming out of the observation room, and then the other director asked “Don’t you think it’s just beautiful, her ring?”
I answered not once turning around and said “That big old ugly, piss yellow thing? Ugh, no, diamonds that big are for insecure white women who have lost their ex-husband to a sexy Latina vamp.” They both looked like I had caught them off guard by my response, I turned, laughed and walked towards the next observation room.
When I got back to my office I had a voicemail to call my current supervisor and when I did, she had offered me the job I have now. I was ecstatic to say the least. I marched right into the clerkship director’s office and gave my two weeks’ notice. This vamp was leaving and taking my red lipstick with me, and I don’t regret one word of what I said.
Okay y’all, this is going to be probably one of the shortest posts I’ve ever written but there’s a reason for that. So, in the span of a few short months (okay the longest six months of my ENTIRE life) I’ve gone from being perfectly happy dealing with Female Sheldon, to her quitting, to finding out that a fucking crook (Baby Kermit) was being hired, although I didn’t know it at the time, dealing with her fucking, goddamned, incessant gerping, high pitched voice, annoying stomping walk, loud baby talk phone conversations, and finding her long ass hairs all over the goddamned bathroom floor, not to mention her god-awful bad breath. And to top it all off, losing my work husband JP. Now, the big cheese of bosses, our Vice President for Research announced his retirement effective this Friday.
I mean, seriously, he was the only VP I’ve worked for who went to bat for his people, he defended us, he praised us, he acknowledged us, he made each and every one of us feel like we meant something to him. And now, he’s fucking retiring? The world is coming to an end as I know it, seriously it’s Huntressagedon and it’s not something I want to face….
But, wait THERE’S MORE!! Ever since I was passed over for Female Sheldon’s job, I’ve been searching for jobs within our university. I’ve applied, I’ve interviewed and I’ve gotten the “Thanks but No Thanks” emails……*Sigh*
This is of course until, low and behold my former work husband text me to ask if I’d be interested in a position in his new department. I mean, what the literal fuck is he thinking asking a question like that? Of COURSE I’M INTERESTED!!! For so many reasons, but the biggest is GODDAMNED BABY KERMIT, I FUCKING HATE HER!! But for several other reasons that everyone reading this post might think. Because back in October I wrote about Baby Kermit, where she came from and why she left. If y’all haven’t read it, you can here.
Well, about a week ago, a follow up to the Facebook post by Bob Moore (the reporter in the link I’ve posted above) came out with his full blown article on the investigation of Baby Kermit’s former university (and mine, my Alma mater no less ugh) but specifically the office where she had previously been for 22 fucking years!!! Sorry it still gets me all pissed off and wanting to punch her in her goddamned throat (maybe she’s stop gerping…hhmmmm I wonder…)
You can read the full, cringe-worthy, money funneling, careless financial, mishandling of federal and state fund debacle here.
I, for the first time since getting my bachelor’s degree from here, am embarrassed and ashamed to call myself an alumni from what I once considered to be one of the most underrated universities in Texas. I have this sneaking suspicion that Baby Kermit had something to do with this entire disaster. Either knowingly or at the direction of the VP for Research over there, who is a motherfucking, asshole bastard, and yes, I did know him personally. When I worked in the Dept of Engineering, he was the Dean of the College of Engineering. He is an asshole misogynistic bastard, and according to some sources I still have over there, they asked him to retire.
In any case when JP text me I jumped at the chance to get the fuck out of here and said yes. I applied and I HAVE AN INTERVIEW TOMORROW Y’ALL!!!!! Okay this post turned out to be longer than I expected but, I’m excited at the prospect to be getting the fuck away from here. And maybe now my supervisors will see that when I’m gone, oh who am I kidding, they won’t care after I’m gone. But on a lighter note, if I do get out of here, I may just throat punch Baby Kermit on my last day…..
Last week I posted about Lestat the Emotional Vampire’s attempts at communication and how a dream that resulted from one of those voicemails came to be. I went to go see my genius therapist Terri (which I’m starting to think she’s getting a swollen head because I keep telling her she’s a genius) interpreted that dream and told me what my subconscious was telling me. So, she also mentioned that because I have daddy issues (y’all have no idea how hard that was to write) I fell for someone like Lestat in the first place. So, here I am to write/post about my daddy issues because according to Terri, if I post about this it will be easier to accept it and move past it. She also told me that she’s read my blog and that I cuss way to much but I’m like, as my blog states, it’s my blog and I can cry if I want to, or in this case cuss. But as always, I digress….so, here I go.
According to Terri, daddy issues are psychological challenges that are posed to girls as young as five and as old as…..well into our late sixties or so that are often manifested by an abnormal relationship with one’s father. Such as an absent father, a father who only accepts or acknowledges their daughters/children when it’s convenient for them, which may manifest in trust issues, low self-esteem, and even sexual promiscuity. This comes about because as young girls, our fathers are the most important male figure in a girl’s life. From the time we’re born to the time they die, they are the one man that we (supposedly) hold all other men in comparison to.
From the time I was born, I was always, somehow made to feel that I should have been a boy. My parent’s firstborn should have been a boy, they weren’t prepared to have a girl, so from the time I could remember anything, I was treated like a boy. That is, until my brother was born because after that, I was pretty much ignored until my brother turned out to be a dud and then all attention was back on me.
Let me explain in further detail, when I was born my parent’s had never chosen a girl’s name, or planned for a daughter in anyway shape or form. They had no girls names picked out, so when they named me, they took my name from the comics The Archie’s, particularly Veronica Lodge. My parents were living in San Bernardino California at the time and one of my uncles was really into that comic (yay, I’m named after a comic book character). Anyway, as I grew they shortened my name so I went from Veronica, to Ronnie to Roni, then to just Ron. For the entirety of my childhood (and growing up with mainly male cousins) I was known as Ron. If we were together, they’d assume it was six boys, when in reality it was five boys and a girl.
As a kid, I never saw anything wrong with this, but then as an young girl, I went to school dressed in hand me down clothes (boys clothes) for the most part, overalls, jeans, football jerseys etc. And it was in the fourth grade (when I had my first crush) that I realized I looked like a boy, and my crush didn’t want anything to do with me because of it. So, I began to tell my mom I wanted “girl clothes” and she said “Oh, god girl clothes are so expensive!”
Yes, my mother said that to me, but she bought me girl clothes anyway. She drove my down to JC Penny’s at the mall and bought me frilly dresses, socks with lace around the cuff, patent leather Mary Jane shoes, and most importantly, a girl’s winter coat. Because up until then I was wearing a hand me down, green satin New York Jets bomber jacket that once belonged to one of my older cousins.
So imagine my shock as I got to school the following week, actually looking like a girl, and getting ridiculed and made fun of for looking like a girl! Now I think, those asshole bastards, seriously. But back then I didn’t know what to think, and I was more confused than ever. But moving on, as I grew my dad was always too busy to spend any quality time with my brother and I, and that resulted in being alone with a mentally unstable, narcissistic mother who was so self-absorbed that she saw me as competition for my dad’s affection. Which made things even worse for me because my mom would lie to my dad about stuff I had done, said or intended to do. She didn’t do this with my brother, but I think that’s because he was a boy. Anyway, as I grew and began to show some signs of mediocre athletic interest or talent and began to play sports in junior high. I was on the track and basketball teams, but always on the second string or alternates. During the summer I’d play softball, which oddly enough turned out to be my best sport. Because my dad was a great ball player when he was young I thought and expected for him to at least semi interested and attend my games.
But as it turned out, both my parent’s didn’t think it was important enough that I was playing sports for them to show up like all the other girls parents did. I wasn’t the only one, I’m just saying that there were three of us girls on all of the teams whose parent’s never showed any interest in us playing sports to come out and see us once in a while. But when my brother began little league, they were at all his games. My dad even coached one of his teams and then shit hit the fan, my brother got hit in the face with a baseball, had four stitches on the inside of his lip and grew scared of playing and never played again. And the motherfucker was only nine!! So, there went my dad’s dreams of honing a future major leaguer, and went back to his own baseball playing on the weekends. Meanwhile I won (with my team okay) two city softball girls championships, and second place as a cross-country runner.
My dad was/is an alcoholic, but not an aggressive one, he was for the most part the passive one because my mom was a fucking lunatic. She made all our lives hell and for the most part my dad saw his way out of being with a mentally unstable wife and mother was to work as much as possible, play baseball and drink until he was just too tired or drunk to deal with her. My mother was (and sometimes is) a complete bitch. My dad never acknowledged his kids or spent time with us, because he was too self-absorbed in his own way of numbing himself to my mother’s type of crazy, he just felt it was better to stay away from all of us.
My dad was absent both physically and emotionally, and that’s why Terri said I found traits like him in men like my stupid ex-husband and Lestat. I told her that both of them were the exact opposite of what my dad was, but she explained that that is exactly why I held onto them as long as I did. They were controlling, manipulative, egotistical and very passive-aggressive, and I had mentioned to her that they seemed more like my mother than my dad. But she explained that because my dad was supposed to be the positive male figure from the time I was a baby, I found this in the men I was involved with and I was never able set any boundaries with these men because my dad never demonstrated any interest in me. Therefore the so-called “daddy issues” began. Then, she dropped the big bomb on me, she said I tended to seek out “emotional unavailable men” just like my dad.
Now that, I completely understood but never (and I do mean never) made that connection. So when I began to see Terri and talk about Lestat and told her about him and his characteristics, habits and such. She made that connection right away, but didn’t tell me until I told her recently about him trying to contact me again. I asked her why she hadn’t said this to me when I began seeing her and she said that we had to work through one thing at a time. And that getting myself ready to kick his ass to the curb (my words not hers) was the most important thing to do first. Then we’d tackle my so-called “daddy issues” later on, because according to her it was best to get rid of Lestat before going into why I kept him around for so long than the other way around.
Okay, I give her that she’s a smart cookie for sure, and I’m all for her helping me. After all I’m paying her to help me right? She’s going to see this comment and I’m sure she’ll have something to say about it.
In any case, after she pointed this out to me there I was, scanning back into my memories about the things that Lestat said and did that should have been obvious but I failed to see. His controlling ways, his emotional manipulation, his caring then cold demeanor, and indifference. He was, as Terri put it, emotionally unavailable and I didn’t see it. It took me twenty fucking years of my life to finally see what and who he really was and then learn to love myself more than I loved him in order to cut cord with this selfish man and walk away.
But Terri did emphasize this, that I am over my daddy issues with Lestat because I chose to walk away from this egotistical, asshole, prick bastard. That I’ve become an independent woman who knows how to get things done on her own instead of looking for a man to do/fix them for me. But I got here by white knuckling it for twenty years, attempting relationship rehab so many times that I questioned whether or not I’d actually survive. Struggling emotionally to figure out who I was and how I got to this point in my life. But I did it, and I’m happy…..for now. Until I can manage to buy a house that is.
As for my dad, I have no emotional ties to this man either, he’s just…dad. He’s a selfish and now elderly man who needs my help because of his declining health and I’m finding it very hard to be the daughter both my parents want me to be. I’ve let Terri know that I feel no other connection with my parents other than (hold on to your knickers here) they are the people who gave birth and raised me, without any love and affection. And now, I feel the same towards them. My brother on the other hand is a completely different story, but that’s a post for another time.
As for me, I tried to be the mother AND father to my boys that my parent’s never were. I put them first, I made them the reason I existed, but without smothering them. I taught them how to drive, shave, wash, cook, iron and respect women. I taught them how to be men, without having a positive father figure myself. So I think, in spite of my upbringing, I’ve done a pretty good job. They did however, all inherit my sarcasm, now that it something that routinely comes back and bites me in the ass. But I’m okay with that, if that’s the worst characteristic they’ve shown, then I’m okay with it. Until I have grand-kids that is….then I’ll get my revenge, lol.
Random Thought of the Day
Using a damp beauty blender to apply ALL your makeup is a bad idea…..
Well it is for mature skin, it’s only good for foundation. But I tried that method this morning and now I look like I have caked on makeup and look like Tammy Faye Baker, and feel like I have plastered on makeup and everyone can see it…..I can’t wait to get home and wash my face….
It’s been……well hell, I can’t remember the last blog post about Lestat, and as Martha Steward would say, “That’s a good thing!”
Anyway, I’ve had my therapy sessions with my amazing therapist Terri, and we’ve gone over several other issues in my life, one of which she brought to my attention only recently about how I, had severe daddy issues hence why I chose Lestat as the man to hang onto for so long. Believe me, I was floored when she pointed that out, and she had examples too, like a goddamned Power Point presentation and shit, but that’s a post for another time.
This post is about dreams and our subconscious, and how at times we fail to see things, clues and signs if you will from our daily lives. That’s our subconscious kicks (I emphasize the kick) in when we are at rest to let us know that we in fact, have made the right decisions. I have had, in the last three months, some pathetically meager attempts by Lestat to get in contact with me. He can’t try to call or text me via my personal cell phone because I have him blocked. And he isn’t technologically astute enough to try and find my work email because unless it has to do with porn, he won’t look online to fine that either. So he’s resorted to leaving me voicemails at work, because he’d memorized my work phone number or he was able to access this from his contacts list. In any case, I’ve had several short voicemail messages from him telling me he misses me, that he wished I’d just talk to him or that even a short text message would do, to make him feel better.
Did you hear that? To make HIM feel better, all this time or should I say the entire time we were together it was always about HIM. There has never been a time when it’s been about me or us, my entire twenty years with him had always been about HIM, how HE felt, how HE wanted things and how I HURT his stupid ass. It never ceases to amaze me how narcs think…….about themselves…..always.
Well, because I refuse to deal with him in any shape or form, I found out how to send his number direct to voicemail so when and if he does keep calling, I won’t see it. Any communication on my part is detrimental to my relationship sobriety, I can’t risk opening communication with him whatsoever because I know him too well. He’ll try to explain all kinds of shit and even though I’m no longer in love with him, as my therapist put it, I’m not out of the woods just yet. She explained that being on this relationship sobriety is extremely important because of the dysfunctionality (yes this is a word, I just made up) of what we had together might still come into play if I communicate with him.
And I understand her concerns since I believe I am no longer a sucker for his charm and bullshit. But anyway, onto my subconscious and the warning it gave me, so as mentioned I got a short, very emotional voicemail on Friday afternoon, and all it said was (in his breathy-I don’t know what to say-type voice) “Damn! I miss you so much” and then hung up. I listened to it, deleted it and went about my day. Which meant that I changed here at work to go run with a friend after wards. Seriously, he really does think I’ll be a sucker for his smooth talk.
But after my short run, I got home and I felt emotionally and physically exhausted. So I took a shower, had some herbal tea, watched my Friday night shows (Dateline/NBC and 20/20/ABC) and went to bed. On Saturday I woke up from a horrible dream, and thought to myself the stupid voicemail triggered this episode of subconscious drama. I had a dream that I was at some sort of social event with tons of people and food. I was all dolled up for some reason, wearing a floor length, off one shoulder cocktail dress in the only color I can describe as “Tiffany Blue.” You know, the color of the gift boxes from Tiffany’s?
That in itself is weird as fuck, but I digress. I schmoozed with people and said hi to apparently friends I recognized and then it happened, in my dream Lestat was there, staring at me, but at his side he had a very young twenty or thirty-something girl. She looked excited, and as mentioned very young, of course I knew this wasn’t his wife because that bitch looks like Fiona Shrek. He stared at me as he leaned in to give her a kiss on the lips. But he wouldn’t break his stare and I turned around and talked with a couple of other friends from my dream. All through the night of that celebration (in my dream) I was happy and carefree, all the while Lestat and Gidget (that’s what I’m calling his imaginary girlfriend in my dream) were always within eyesight of where I was. And he’d always make sure that I’d see him kiss her, put his hand on her back, or hug her and all the times he’d be doing this, he’d turn around to see if I was watching him. In my relationship with him, he did this twice to me when I’d break up with him to try and pursue a serious relationship with someone else. He’d show up with some young barfly, whom I found out later on he paid to “escort” him to some place he knew I’d be.
It’s a desperate ploy that both men and women use to try and stir up emotions of jealousy, hate or dismay from their former partner. In my dream I found myself walking around in my beautiful Robin’s egg colored gown, with a champagne flute in my hand talking and laughing with other people, ignoring Lestat and his desperate ploy for my attention. At the end of my dream I walked up a huge flight of ornate stares, they were white marble with veins of silver and gold throughout (hell, I’m amazed at the fact that I remember this small intricate detail from a flight of stairs in my dream) and the banisters were wood painted white with gold trim.
I held onto the banister with one hand and my gown with the other as I turned to look down at the crowd below, with people whisping by me going up and down the stairs. I looked down and saw Lestat with Gidget, she was smiling and talking to people around her, and Lestat just looked up at me, his face completely devoid of expression as I walked up to God knows where in this place in my dream. And I just looked past him, at other people I recognized, smiled waved goodbye and as I did, Lestat walked away from Gidget and left her there in the crowd among strangers. I could see him walk out a huge glass door with wrought iron work, out into the night and I felt a sense of relief somehow.
Well in my dream I felt it, when I woke up Saturday morning I was pissed as hell because I hate dreaming about shit like that. Anyway, yesterday I went to go see my therapist, and I told her about my dream, as always very calm she wrote in her pad, as she held her personalized silver engraved pen to her lips. She closed her pad and said to me, “Other than being angry when you woke up, and the fact that you remembered such detail about your dream. Do you know what this dream might signify?”
I told her I did not, and that I too was surprised at all the small details about my dream, the color and style of my dress, the ornate stare case, the large glass and wrought iron doors, the banister, the champagne glass I was holding. People I felt I knew in my dream but didn’t recognize when I woke up. The smell of my favorite perfume (Calvin Klein’s Woman) and the way I walked up the stairs holding my beautiful gown.
She looked at me, sat back in her new over-sized chair, and cleared her throat to say “Well, I’m going to tell you what it means. The stairs themselves represent the fact that you are making progress. The fact that you’re climbing up them is in itself important because it means your progressing towards a higher sense of self awareness. But the fact that you describe these stairs as being white marble with veins of silver and gold is that you are determined to achieve your goals and that Lestat is no longer one, or even a factor in your life. You’re wearing a blue evening gown in your dream means you’ve found peace with yourself and situation. Ignoring Lestat and….what did you call her? Oh Gidget, in your dream means that you are already moving past any attempts he is trying to make to get your attention. So you see, you are almost at the point to where your relationship sobriety will hit its pinnacle. Him being there with someone younger, to make you jealous is a vain attempt by him to try and regain what he had with you, some sort of mid-life crisis that he is still having and that he’s now realized that you are the only women that paid attention to him the way you did. He isn’t getting that from anyone else. In your dream he’s walking away from Gidget and out those big, ornate doors because you have made up your mind that he is no longer important to you. It was really you walking out of his life, not the other way around. And the champagne glass you were holding, well that’s because you’ve mentioned you like champagne and that one day you will find yourself with everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve.”
I opened my mouth to say something but then she added, “Oh also, your subconscious is telling you, no reminding you of what kind of man Lestat is, in case you’ve forgotten. It’s telling you that no matter what, he’ll always be a cheating, unfaithful man no matter who he’s with or how much he proclaims he loves you.” I looked at her, feeling kind of skeptical of what she had just said, because she’s a psychiatrist not a dream interpreter, but I found that she was spot on about how I felt. She told me that every dream I have about Lestat now was only triggered by him trying to contact me.
She asked me about forgiveness, and I responded with “Forgiveness? Who’s forgiveness?” She said if I had ever considered forgiving Lestat for everything he had done to me. I told her that I had thought about this very subject just the week before. I told her that driving home one day I was listening to the song by Don Henley called Heart of the Matter, and in it there’s a line that goes, “But I think it’s about forgiveness, forgiveness, even if, even if you don’t love me anymore.”
And she looked at me, cocked her head to one side and said “Yes, go on….” And I told her that if and this is a big if, Lestat were to ask for my forgiveness I’d might consider it. But, because I know him so well, he’s not capable of asking for it because he doesn’t believe he did anything wrong. So therefore, I’m not open to forgiving him, if he himself isn’t willing to reflect and accept all those years of what he put me through was wrong, because deep down he honestly believes he has absolutely no blame.
I asked why she thought only 95% immune to him, because I mean after all it wasn’t like I was about to throw away the entire 17 months of Lestat rehab on one voicemail message. She said that it takes longer than the 17 months I had read about, because it only applied to relationships that weren’t as long as mine. Which I suppose made some sense, and I took her gold nuggets of wisdom with me as I left her office, satisfied in the fact that I have one hell of a great therapist. Also because I’ve come this far in getting away from a self-centered, narcissistic, selfish, self-absorbed man, who only used me for as long as I allowed him to. I accept that, she’s making sure that I’m where I need to be and that’s as far away from Lestat and his charm and bullshit where it’s no longer kryptonite for me. I think I’m almost there, but she’s being extra careful and I appreciate that. So dreams have meaning, and now that I know that every dream I’ve had with every attempt that Lestat’s made in the last year or so have triggered my unconscious reminding me that he, the man I believed at one point was the love of my life, no longer is a factor in mine and I’ve come farther than even I thought I had.
Here’s a song that I believe is an embodiment of my emotional state. Not just at the moment, but for the majority of my adult, without Lestat, no settling life. I love Ani DeFranco, she’s one of the most underrated female artists out there. I don’t consider myself a pretty girl, damsel in distress or waiting for my knight in shining armor. Because we all know how that turned out, right? In any case, I think I’m almost there in my Lestat rehab, but according to Terri, I’m hitting the hate stage hard. But that’s okay with me.
Not a Pretty Girl by Ani DeFranco
P.S I got to work on today and found yet another short voicemail and it said, “Even a go fuck yourself text would work.” And I’m thinking, no, no he wouldn’t want ME to give him a go fuck yourself text. Because, I’m not going to be nice or pretend to be cordial in any communication with him. I think he’d be surprised to know how I’ve evolved in how I feel about him. Hearing that I’m over him, and how I think of him now would probably come as a surprise to his narc ass.
I’ve written about my friend Veronica, she doesn’t read my blog because she can never find it despite me sending her the link like a thousand and one times (just another little annoying thing that bugs me about her). Anyway, this past week was a test of the will for me and my friendship with her. The last time around it was because of her being gaslit, or gaslighted or gassed (however you want to spell it) by her now ex-boyfriend. But the more time I spend with her the more I realize that it’s her, not me, and that may sound pretty self-absorbed. But, when you realize that your best friend latches onto you because she has no boyfriend or significant other in her life, I think that’s when you have a problem.
Negative Characteristic #1 – Neediness, it’s annoying as hell, and I’ve never been like this because I had a narcissistic, needy mother. I actively have tried my entire adult life to do for myself so I wouldn’t come off clingy, needy or to drain someone of their will. I just can’t, and won’t do that. My mother was too absorbed in her self-induced crisis to show or help me as a teen age mom, or at all for that matter. And when she did try to do something for me, she turned it around and made everything about her.
So, of course needy people put me off, and sometimes it takes a while for me to realize the extent of their neediness until it’s too late and I want to bash their head in against the hood of their car. I’m getting off track her, so, on Thursday my friend gets invited out to dinner with someone she met a couple of months ago. At around 11:15am I begin to get text messages from her asking what she should wear on that date. I’m like, wear what you fucking want (I really did put it that way) it’s not rocket surgery to pick out an outfit. Well, apparently it is, because she asked if I could go over to her house after work to help her put together an outfit. The thing is, she’s needy as hell but can’t pick up on social or emotional cues that she sometimes overreacts to a lot of things?! Needless to say, I did not go to her house to help her pick out an outfit for this date.
It’s like she has to have constant validation, from someone, that all her decisions are the right ones. I have no idea how she’s made it through her 56 year old life this far with that kind of mindset. It’s bewildering to be honest, not to mention extremely annoying.
Negative Characteristic #2 – The Damsel in Distress act she has going on, it’s really getting on my nerves. We both work in higher education, in different universities, she also deals with the submission of grants, funding and everything that goes with it. Last week I get an email from her, sounding desperate as hell and then she asks me if I know how to use EndNote. Which is a reference/citation software she NEEDS to use because her boss is asking her to use it. I tell her that I do know how to use it, I used it a lot when I was getting my Master’s and writing research and academic papers. As soon as I said I knew how, she calls me begging me to see if I could go to her office during lunch and show her how to use it. Her office is just down the street from where I work, but I’m not about to spend my lunch hour showing her how to use software that she could learn in that hour by watching a YouTube video or two. Seriously, when I had to use it I didn’t know how to either, but you know who showed me? ME…..I SHOWED ME HOW TO USE IT!!
I got online, downloaded the step by step manual and saw about four or five YouTube videos and that’s how I learned. What is so hard about finding out yourself how to do something?!?! It’s aggravating! Okay, I’m composing myself *breathe, breathe*……..anyway I sent her an email with step by step instructions and a couple of YouTube videos. I don’t know if she’s taken that as a “No, I’m a grown adult, so are you, fucking learn how to do shit yourself” kind of hint.
Negative Characteristic #3 – She can attract a man, but isn’t able to keep them around, why? I’ll tell you why, because she’s the kind of person who has her….attitudes mixed up. I have no other way to put it, so let me try to explain. She’s 56 years old, has been married and divorced twice, she owns her own house, has a good job that pays very well. She drives an almost new car, but…..has credit card debt up the ass, she’s a cheapskate like you can’t imagine. And she’s kind of fucked up when it comes to men. In October, she went to lunch and found a note on her windshield from a guy who had seen her the day before. He left a note saying something to the effect…”Hi, my name is Marc, and I saw you getting out of your car and I had to just let you know how beautiful you are. I’m not a stalker or anything like that. I’m ex Navy, I’m currently a student and if you’d like to talk to me here’s my number so please call or text me. I’d really like to meet you.” If someone has to tell you they’re not a stalker, they’re probably a stalker.
Shit like this happens to her all the time, she gets approached by men everywhere she goes. Back to Marc the non-stalker, so she texts him, they meet for coffee ONCE and then she’s all in love. They keep talking or should I say texting because this mofo doesn’t call to talk to her. He starts to show up uninvited to her house, which would really get on my last nerve. He never asked her out on a “real” date, like to dinner or a movie. She said he only kept talking about it but never followed through.
Then, after a dinner at his apartment, and a couple of his relatives dying on him and her supporting him through these so called family issues, he shows up a couple of more times unannounced at her house. Once while I was there, I quickly left to leave them alone, even though I was annoyed as fuck but hey, it’s not my place to say anything (yes you did hear that right). She also happens to belong to a book club, they meet at different places once a month. This last time they met at a hotel called The Indigo, which has an awesome bar and restaurant. So after this, he tracks her via Facebook and then accuses her of cheating, can you believe that? This motherfucker had the nerve to accuse her, of cheating, just because she checked in at the Indigo. Then, a couple of hours later, he breaks up with her, and this is where I wanted to fucking kill her.
She decides she needs to explain, and continuously texted Marc the Loser, and he would respond with “Leave me alone.” Or “I don’t want to talk right now” and how do I know this? Because she showed me the texts, and then she called him, which of course he didn’t answer. But seriously, she called him over fifteen, FIFTEEN TIMES!! And text him over twenty-one, because she HAD to explain to this loser why she was at the Indigo!! She did this same thing with her ugly ass ex-BF, Humpty-Hump! The one that was gaslighting her!! She didn’t have to explain anything to him and yet she persisted.
She becomes this wishy-washy, spineless, nothing but annoying, crying, whiny, clingy woman. Then she wonders why they don’t want to talk to her again?!?! Because it always comes to that, then when she’s in between relationships she has the nerve to say “I’m not the one that has to impress them, they have to impress me.” And I want to grab her by her long black hair and beat her face in until it’s unrecognizable!!! Because, of course you have to impress, it goes both ways!!! Relationships are a two-way street, its neither him nor I, it’s both of us, and if she keeps thinking like that, she’s going to be alone for the rest of her life. She insists that she isn’t the one that needs to put any effort into impressing a man that PURSUED her. Which brings me to…
Negative Characteristic #4 – Passive Aggressive Narcissism. When I say she attracts men left and right, I’m not lying. It happens all the time, when we’re out together having margaritas after work, when we go listen to our favorite local band, when we’re having breakfast at IHOP, you name it, men come up to her to ask if she’s single and if they can have her number. She’s been married and divorced twice as previously mentioned. But she’s never had children, and she looks younger than I do, which in itself is aggravating.
So, she goes on a lot of first, second and third dates, but they never result in anything because of her attitude of “I’m not the one that has to impress” so they drop her after they talk to her for a couple of dates, realizing the kind attitude she has. Then she spends the next couple of weeks crying and asking me “What’s wrong with me?”
And I always answer her with “Do you really want me to tell you or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?” I’ve told her several times why these men don’t turn into serious relationships. But it goes in one ear and out the other, so I don’t try anymore. I just sigh and shake my head, not telling her what I really want to and that’s “What’s wrong with you is, you’re a fucking spaz! You’re needy and fucking annoying and when these men get to know you they run back to their moms asking why women like you roam the fucking earth?!”
Then her passive aggressiveness kicks in and she says “You’re so lucky you don’t have that problem my friend. You’re better off because you don’t have to go through what I go through.” I tell her that I am lucky, because if I were a man, and met her and got to know her, I’d fucking join the priesthood. She just looks at me, laughs and says “Oh stop it” thinking it’s a damned joke. She also gets a jab in there as to why men don’t approach me when we’re together, and this is going to sound so unbelievably cruel, so….”Some material may be inappropriate to some readers, reader discretion is advised.”
She actually told me once that she thinks the reason I look older than her, when she’s clearly older, is because (are you ready for this?) I have had children, that I’ve had three pregnancies and that is why I look the way I do. She told me they drain the body of necessary hormones to be able to maintain our youth. Calmly I looked at her, while drinking my pitcher of margaritas and said “Well, my friend, that may be true, but at least I won’t grow to be an old spinster with no friends and only my dog to keep me company because I have three boys, and they are what I will have, even if I don’t meet anyone else or remarry anytime soon. I know my children will flourish, get married and have kids and continue my bloodline.”
Then she has the fucking nerve to cry and tell me how I could say that to her knowing that she can’t have kids. Needless to say, I don’t feel sorry for her one bit, and I tell her the truth, because if you’re my friend, I am honest about everything. Including our friendship, and I told her that beauty is only skin deep, but emotional intelligence runs so much deeper than superficial beauty, anyone will see that, and men, especially smart men will realize that.
I have to also mention that I stopped taking her calls because I’d always answer her, but when I’d call, she’d ignore me, and send my call to voicemail. Then she claimed she “never got my call.” Which I know happens sometimes, but come on, not all the fucking time. I only answer now when I feel like answering, then I get the feeling sorry for myself drama from her, and once I just hung up on her. She called me back and said we’d gotten disconnected and I said “No, I just hung up on you because I’m not in the mood to deal with your needy ass right now” and she got offended, wow…….she got offended….ugh.
So, I’m on the verge of cutting cord on yet another friendship, which will leave me with two IRL and a couple of blogger friends. I’m just too old to deal with stupid shit and self-induced drama from anyone, let alone my friends, when they tend to create it themselves and for me when I’m with them.
So, does this make me overly critical of my friend? Or is this common sense kicking in and letting my gut tell me that this is too much for me to undertake in a friendship?
Work has been crazy, I’m talking super crazy, like Harley Quinn in Suicide Squad, carry a baseball bat, custom chrome revolver in your gun holster, hold my water bottle full of vodka while I tell you what I think of you, crazy. Assumptions are something I don’t like to make myself, but yet most of us do it at the drop of a hat, all because of what someone says, how they dress, their likes or dislikes, all that nonsense. And, well professionally it can go both ways and I’m going to explain why.
I work in an office of sponsored projects, which means a group us works with faculty members and their proposals for external funding for their research. We try to steer them in the right direction in many ways. Such as editing of their written proposals, reading sponsor guidelines (because believe me, most of them don’t) to keep within what the sponsor requires or allows. But a big chunk of what we do is work with budgets, how to get them within sponsor maximum amounts, indirect costs, allowable expenditures etc. But, within the last year we’ve had another office/department stick their dirty little, money grubbing, uneducated fingers in our sponsored project business. I’ll call this department, the department of Bernie Madoff, and for the most part they are in charge of our university’s brand, logo, how it’s used, when and where it should be used and by whom. They are also in charge of fundraising for the university from alumni, community leader and others that wish to donate to the university.
They are a group, for the most part, of stupid people who can’t define a sponsored project from a donation or gift. The two “top” people come from a University in a near by state that shall remain nameless, and their experience combined is about……….NIL! One of the people who works for them is someone I worked closely with in the past, and she is probably the only sane and remotely educated one out of all the office. She, through no fault of her own, has to be associated with this group of idiots because she works there. She helps with grants that are submitted through our university’s foundation, because “they” believe that if it’s a donation, their office should be the one to submit that proposal on behalf of the faculty member and institution. This is done to boost their “donation” numbers and this was implemented by the previous Vice-Chancellor. Before I go on, I will give a little background on the previous Vice-Scammer, because they scam people into giving to the foundation so they can say they’ve met their fundraising goals. Her name is not important, but she believed that anything that resembled a “donation” would boot their offices numbers and my managing director agreed. But my director said she would decide if it was a worthy of Bernie’s department’s involvement in the submission.
Well that quickly spiraled out of control when the former Vice-Scammer decided to take control over a lot of the submissions despite our office trying to stop her. It was financial train wreck, and now it’s headed downhill, full speed ahead. In any case, the former Scammer was promptly fired when they found she was embezzling funds from the foundations donations. Yep, she was stealing money from the donated funds to purchase things like designer purses, shoes and other personal items. She was fired from her position, and was walked out of her office by campus police without allowing her to gather her things other than her purse and whatever she had on. She was banned from ever setting foot on campus again and was told she had to resign instead of it getting out she was getting fired. Why they did that for her to save face is beyond me? She was also ordered to repay what she stole in order to avoid having charges brought against her.
She agreed to everything, and I’m thinking she wasn’t prosecuted because she happens to be closer personal friends with one of the Board of Regents and prominent business owner here in town who helped bring this medical school to El Paso. So, back to the current Vice-Scammer, she and her entire office, who believe that they have a say in what we, in office say and do. I’ve already made several enemies in that office because of my “strong” character. One of them happens to be the managing director, who was recruited by the current Vice-Scammer from her previous university near by, not saying which one but close.
He’s a horrid person all around, he has NO experience in what we do, but feels free to constantly question out methods and work. So let me give a bit of information on this so called “professional writer” and fundraising, piece of shit, asshole prick, mother-fucking narcist. He, is a published author, but that doesn’t mean he’s a good writer. I looked up his books, and he is a “dark fiction” writer. And yet, his professional writing leaves something to be desired. I read a proposal he supposedly edited for one of our faculty members and there were so many grammatical errors it wasn’t even funny. Anyway, I won’t mention the names of his 7 books but one has a character who is a narcist, and having issues with his daughter. I’ll call him Jar-Jar Binks, because of the hatred for this character and all that he does and stands for. Because his ego is incredibly over-inflated and this is perpetuated by the Vice-Scammer, he thinks he can talk down to everyone in our office, and his rude attitude also shows up in emails as well.
Because of all the friction between our offices, the President’s office had to get involved, and there have been a series of meetings with our office, the office of scamming for funds and two other accounting offices and the office of audit. Yes, it’s gotten that out of hand and all because of Jar-Jar and the Vice-Scammer. Oh, yeah and a woman they recruited from a local non-profit that has many years of “fundraising” under her belt. Under her big, fat, loud eating, slurp-drinking, food in her mouth, nasal-talking, whiny ass belt! She reminds me of Roseanne Bar, only less attractive. I’ll call her….Roseanne, because of these three inept people we’ve come to a head and our office is getting tired of them meddling in our daily business. So, we had a meeting with all the people mentioned above. When the meeting began, we (all of us) were civil, and I was trying real hard to keep my mouth shut as they (Jar-Jar and Roseanne) were attempting to give us their reasoning as to why, they should approve OUR WORK.
After 45 minutes, it was clear we were getting nowhere and both my directors were beginning to fray. And, we just found out our director is expecting, and she’s the sweetest person I could have ever worked with. So, sitting there listening to all the stupid gibberish and seeing that my director was beginning to stress out. I looked over at one of my co-workers and she nodded like saying, “Please, whatever you do or say, don’t piss anyone off.” But, hell, you know me, and I actually took her silent plea and didn’t say anything. But as Jar-Jar and Roseanne kept on about how they have the “right” to see what we submit because half of it is, as they put it, donations and gifts, I finally lost it. I finally broke my silence and asked “Excuse me, do you know the definition between a gift and or donation and a grant?”
They looked at me and Jar-Jar responded “That’s irrelevant here, because your office……” and then I interrupted again and said “I see, so no one in your office knows the definition, right?” Then Roseanne smugly asked me “Well, do you?” and I said “Yes, I sure do. A gift is an unrestricted amount of funds that can be used at the discretion of the recipient. And a grant is restricted amount solicited for the specific purpose of utilizing those funds according to the sponsor’s guidelines that are bound by an agreement, budget, financial reporting and a timeline.”
Then Jar-Jar laughed and said “Did you just make that up?” and Roseanne joined in the mocking as I finally felt the last of my ever fraying rope snap. My directors were both angry at these idiots dismissal of what I had just said. And before they could answer to either of them I said “No, I don’t make things up, I’m not a so-called professional writer of dark fiction, I only present facts” and Jar-Jar turned red with anger.
I could see his eyes throwing virtual darts my way as I sat in my chair, with a smirk on my face. Then the Vice-Scammer said “Well okay we need to keep things professional here” as she turned my way and continued “I’m sure you can try and do that can’t you?”
I looked at her and responded with, “Of course I can, and I shouldn’t have lowered myself to your staff’s level since they are the epitome of unprofessional, as constantly proven in their communication with our office.” She looked at her staff and that’s when my director said “We need to find a solution to working with each other.” For the remaining two hours (yes it was a long, long day) I maintained my professionalism, and they strained themselves to do so as well. Although I could see it was hard for them on their stupid faces, trying to speak but no doing so for fear of a quick retort from my office.
After our meeting both my directors asked to speak with me and I thought for sure I was going to get fired for speaking out of place. Because after all, I was rude to the Vice-Scammer, the managing director and director corporate relations. She’s more like the director of horrid table manners and line snorting the mini muffin basket that was on the conference table between us. NO, I’m not fat shaming her, because I don’t like her it’s different. She’s a narcist, half-wit that thinks she knows everything who happens to be overweight. If she was a nice person I’d never think of her in that manner. BUT I DIGRESS….
Both my directors were kind and they said that I might need to take some anger management, and I looked at them and (in a nice way) said “I don’t need anger management, I manage my anger very well, that’s what I do in situations like today’s. I manage my anger at the very point of it beginning to boil over. I say what’s in my head and I never take work anger home with me.” My direct supervisor laughed and said “I know you do, and what you said was not only the truth and well deserved but maybe next time, you can tone it down just a tad?” I was like, okay but I’m sure from now on I won’t be sitting in on many of those meetings.
Assumptions about these people and of course their arrogant manner, I have no other impression than the one they made on me and coworkers. And I’m sure they’re assumption of us was, at one point, that we knew our shit. The entire experience was annoying and stressful, and conjured feelings of coworkercide and torture (them not us) not to mention Baby Kermit’s CONSTANT throat clearing!! This made me think that these asshole pricks from the Madoff office definitely saw us as inept. I was beyond angry, I wanted to just turn to Baby Kermit and yell out at her “Will you fucking desist already?!!? Do you not know how fucking annoying that shit is?!?!”
But I didn’t, I just sat there as those asshole pricks looked at her like the bitch had horns on her head, covered in green skin and boogers coming out of her fucking nose. I was not only pissed, I was embarrassed as well. After trying to make them see that, no we didn’t need their input, and we know how to do our jobs, Baby Kermit and her operatic throat clearing made us look like fucking idiots, because she did it almost every other minute during the dialog between our offices. And everyone would stop and look at her, but she never looked up and kept taking notes on her pad, like no one would notice that annoying noise coming out of her fucking, piehole!
Not to mention her high pitched voice when she answered questions. She talks like a fucking fifth grader, with the constant….Um…yes, but…um….well….we could see about that….but um….
By the end of this meeting, I wanted to fucking kill her just as bad as I wanted to kill Jar-Jar, Roseanne and Vice-Scammer. To drag their lifeless bodies wrapped in tarps into the drainage system behind the university and watch their bloody corpses roll down the hill into the puddle of sewage. Yes, including Baby Kermit, that bitch has stomped on my last fucking nerve with her throat clearing! Now, just for the record it’s not normal throat clearing. It’s an annoying, loud bullfrog, raspy throat clearing!
Needless to say, I was in dire need of a couple of bottles of wine to get me through the weekend before I walked into the office this morning.
Remember, keep your friends close and your enemies on deep freeze until you can find a place to bury them where no one will find them.
P.S This has nothing to do with my post, but I saw Birds of Prey this weekend and found there’s a character called Huntress, not “The” Huntress but Huntress and she seemed like a woman hell bent on revenge……..I liked her. But did you think I wouldn’t?
P.S.S I had a dream that I was married to Chris Pratt…….it must have been the three bottles of wine I had on Friday night…..I’m not complaining.
I’m sure those of you that have kids have encountered or have been in conversations with them while they were little and the things that are in their heads are just………..awesomely weird. I have three boys (men now) but when they were growing up they were each a handful. So when they’d decide to get together and combine their shenanigans, in what I’d call a verbal tag team of sarcasm. Which at times had me at the end of my ever fraying rope!
Frogs are NOT Tampons……
My youngest was always an adventurer, he’d wander out during rainy days to go find worms, frogs and all kinds of buggy, little squirmy things to bring back to me. Well apparently one day while my two older boys were insulting each other they called each other douche bags and tampon lovers (they’re boys go figure). They must have been around eleven and nine years old respectively. My youngest was about four, and very impressionable at that, this kid would never forget a damned thing I said or did. And believe me he’d call me on it, but I digress. One day we had just left the dentist office as all three of them had their annual checkup and cleanings and we were on our way back to the east-side, looking for someplace to eat lunch. At the time I had a 2002 Red Mustang, and all four of us were in the car, and they began to get loud, then louder and then an all-out fight began, name calling, yelling, my oldest telling me to tell my middle son to stop being a smart ass. My middle son telling me to tell my oldest to stop being a douche…..and on and on.
I was, to say the least ready to snap as I had promised them I’d take them to lunch after we’d finished with the dentist. I yelled out at all of them, telling them I’d leave them by the side of the road if they didn’t stop it and shut up! And my middle son said “Okay mom, maybe someone can buy me lunch because you’re starving your kids by driving so slow.” And my baby yelled at him saying “Don’t yell at my momma you big tampon!” We were all caught off guard, there was silence, and then laughter and my middle son said to him “Shut up butt face, you don’t even know what a tampon is!”
My baby turned around and in his innocent, baby like voice he said “Ah-ha, I do so know what a tampon is, it’s a little baby frog that is born in the puddles after it rains, you big tampon!”
My oldest and I were trying to hold in our laughter but it was too much because that’s when we realize that my youngest son, the adventurer, the one that never forgot anything I’d tell him thought a tampon was a tadpole and it was hilarious!” I laughed all the way to Sonic, because there was no way in hell I was going take these three boys into a restaurant acting the way they were.
Stigmata isn’t an Eye Condition….
My oldest was about fourteen years old when I had to take him to the eye doctor so he could get a checkup have his eye glass prescription checked and adjusted. It seemed like we’d waited for hours, and it was only myself and my two oldest boys because my middle one had a doctor’s appointment earlier in the day because his throat was bothering him. He’s the impatient, smart-ass, sarcastic one (I wonder where he gets that from?) and was beginning to whine about the wait. After my oldest walked out of the eye doctor’s exam room, the doctor told me that his prescription only needed to be slightly adjusted and that he was fine.
I thanked the doctor, paid and went to go look for frames for my oldest son. About half an hour later as we made our way down I-10 (headed to lunch again) with my oldest in the passenger side of my red mustang and my middle son sitting in the back seat, my oldest turned to look at me and said “Mom, the eye doctor said I had stigmata, is that bad?” And me being the sarcastic mom I responded with “Oh my god, are you serious, where?” And my middle son sitting in the back busts out laughing. All the while my oldest looks at me and says “Duh mom, I have stigmata in my eyes!” And my middle son (laughing that mocking laugh he has) says “You have astigmatism dumb-ass, not stigmata!” My oldest looks back at my middle son, and punches him in the leg, and my middle son keeps laughing and said “Ohh better watch it there, you don’t want to aggravate your stigmata!”
By this point I couldn’t help but laugh, seriously where do they come up with this shit? I tell them to cut it out and we head over to Pizza Hut for lunch. As we’re sitting there eating my oldest son quietly asks “So what’s stigmata mom?” I sat there explaining what it was, trying really hard NOT to laugh, we finished our lunch and went home. As soon as we walk in the house, my middle son yells out to my parent’s “Hey grandma and grandpa, guess what Joe has stigmata, better get out the rosary and candles!” Then I slapped him upside the head because I knew I’d have to explain to my mom what was going on, and that wasn’t going to be easy. Because my mom has no measurable sense of humor, especially when it comes to religion.
Don’t Try and Flush Fruit Down the Toilet, It Doesn’t Work……..
When my middle son Mike was about seven years old he was what I’d call a……rambunctious child. You know those kids like Dennis the Menace only he’s yours and you’re the one that has to explain his behavior to family, friends and neighbors. He was also the rebel child of the three, always doing something I or my ex-husband had said NOT to do. One day, we’d just gotten home from grocery shopping, and I’d put away all the food and placed some green apples and bananas in the fruit bowl on the dining table. My two older boys were outside playing, getting dirty and yelling at each other. As it got dark they came in and I’d told them to go and take a shower because dinner was going to be ready soon.
Mike walked by me and grabbed a green apple from the bowl and before he bit into it I said “Don’t take it if you’re not going to eat it Michael, do you hear me? Because if you don’t finish it, I swear I’m going put it in the blender, make it into soup and give you an apple enema!”
He rolled his eyes at me, and his dad reiterated what I had just said, telling him that he wouldn’t have dinner if he didn’t finish the entire apple. Now, these green apples were huge, I’d bought them to make caramel apples because it was close to Halloween.
As we’re sitting down to dinner, I ask my oldest Joe, what’s keeping Mike. My oldest said his brother was still in the shower. I shrugged thinking nothing of it, and we sat down to eat, after about five minutes I yelled out for Mike to come to dinner. Then I heard it, it was the toilet flushing. Then again, and again…..two, three, four times I heard the toilet flush. I told Joe to go and see what the hell was going on, and I looked over at my ex-husband thinking, is he sick?
Then I hear yelling from the bathroom in the hallway “What are you doing Mike!?!” And Mike answers almost crying “I need to get rid of the apple or moms going to enema me!” I got up and walked into the hall bathroom, and as I did I saw a partially eaten green apple rolling in the toilet. Mike looked up at me as Joe began to laugh, and he said “Mike you can’t flush an entire apple Mike, its round and it will stay there forever!”
All the while Mike is still pushing the handle on the toilet and the apple continuing to roll in the water with every single flush. Again I’m trying really hard not to laugh, because the kid was only seven years old. I told him to take the apple out of the toilet, wash his hands and go sit down for dinner. He looked up at me and asked “So you’re not going to enema me?” and I looked him straight in the eyes, hugged him and said…….”Yes later when you’ve finished your dinner.”
Now as sarcastic as my boys grew up, they did turn out to be respectful, hardworking, honest men and I’ve very proud of them. I wonder what my grand-kids will be like? Anyway, this nana is going on a cruise when they all start having kids! YAY NANA!!!
And some of you are thinking, so what else is new right? Keep that thought in your heads my children…….
I was supposed to travel to Nashville this coming week for a conference that my department was sending me to. I was actually looking forward to it, I bought clothes, commandeered a carry-on suitcase from one of my friends and I packed everything I was going to take with me all nice and neat. I even purchased all my toiletries in stupidly small travel, Ooompaloompa size portions, so they could all fit into ONE QUART SIZE re-sealable plastic bag.
Then, on Friday, I contacted our university Travel Office who was supposed to deposit the already authorized/approved travel advance into my bank account, to find out how long it was going to take for me to receive the funds. Mind you, this has been in the planning since mid-December, all the appropriate forms were circulated for approval, all registration payments were made, flights had been purchased and the only thing pending was the travel advance for me to pay for the hotel. Then I get a response saying that my travel advance payment was denied, because I have a warrant hold with the GODDAMNED STATE OF TEXAS!!!! Now, calmly I was like wtf is going on here, what hold could possibly hinder a travel advance? Hold the phone, it turns out if you’re an employee of the State of Texas, this hold can keep you from getting travel advances, it could keep you from claiming lottery winnings (well there goes that $10 scratch off I have in my car) and/or keep you from local or federal jury duty. Okay so two out of three relevant things, what can I say? I was given contact information and a name so I could “clear this up” in a timely manner in order for me to get the hold taken off and get my travel advance.
So I did just that, I called the number and extension my university’s travel office gave me, I waited for the automated system to give me prompts for what I was looking for and then…….I get transferred to a collections department for the State of Texas Unemployment Benefits department or the Texas Workforce Commission aka bitch, asshole, dick sucking pricks from hell! Seriously, I think that’s their legal name…… anyway, I get this lady on the line and she asks me for my name, social and date of birth and quickly informs me that I have an outstanding balance of $500 for over-paid unemployment benefits from (are you ready for this?) 2002!!!!! The one and only time in my life I was on unemployment.
AND to top it all off, the collections lady said I HAD to pay the balance before the hold could be taken off. I was like are you fucking kidding me? I asked why they thought they had over paid me unemployment benefits and they said because I REFUSED SUITABLE EMPLOYMENT!!
I told them that was not the case, because I remember this situation very well. At that time, I had TWO job offers and I choose one over the other but that did not mean I refused suitable employment according to what they though was suitable. I mentioned that I have my income tax information to prove I was working when they “believed” I had turned down work to keep getting unemployment! Hell I’m not that ghetto, I have pride and I haven’t been out of work since 2002, so they can kiss my entire ass because I’m a classy broad dammit!
Then she proceeded to say was that I had to either pay the entire balance of $500 or file a claim to fight for them to take the hold off. Seriously four fucking days before I was to leave and then I get notified that due to some stupid asshole at the TWC, I have a state hold! And because I work for the State, this will continue to affect me if I don’t get this shit fixed.
I also asked the lady at the TWC why I was never notified and the smug bitch told me that they sent notices to my mailing address. So I asked her what address they had on file and she gave me my parents address AND it’s not even the mailing address, it’s their physical address because they have a P.o Box. I told her that I hadn’t lived at that address in over 15 years and how was I supposed to know about this issue when they don’t even update their own records! I also asked her that “if” I owed the State of Texas money, why hadn’t I gotten a garnishment notice from them. I mentioned that I would have gotten notice from my university’s payroll department that my wages would be garnished until the amount was paid back.
She couldn’t answer me, she kept saying, “I’m only in collections ma’am you need to call the appeals office.” Seriously I’ve been at UTEP and my current university for 17 fucking years combined and they could figure out by my social security number that I had this state warrant hold pending?! I went onto the TWC website and it clearly says that if you have a balance pending, they will either garnish your wages or your income tax refund. AND THEY HAVE DONE NEITHER AND IT’S BEEN FUCKING 17 YEARS!!!! Because you can bet your ass I would have fought that shit tooth and nail.
Well, back when I actually got a substantial income tax return that is, anyway I digress. So I filed an appeal online because I sure as hell am NOT going to pay for benefits I know I deserved! Needless to say, I had to cancel all my travel arrangements, the only thing on my card was the hotel, and I cancelled in time to not be charged any kind of fee. I told my supervisor and she wasn’t mad, well not at me anyway. She said the fucking Travel Office should have caught this before the travel advance was approved in full.
So, in short (or long rant, call it how you see it) I won’t be traveling anywhere for work anytime soon and I’m going to appeal this shit because 1) they had the wrong address, 2) its plain ridiculous that it’s been 17 years and I haven’t gotten any kind of notification and 3) I’m not going down without a goddamned, fist-first, hell hath no fury like a woman denied travel, I deserve every cent of unemployment benefits, hold my hoop earrings and high heels, I’ve had two bottles of Chardonnay, I carry a shank in my purse fighting bitch!!!
And now this mood has been exasperated further since my director (the one that loves to talk about her grandson in actual baby talk) was standing in front of my desk letting me know that this entire disastrous travel episode wasn’t my fault. OF COURSE IT WASN’T MY FAULT!!!! I didn’t even know about this shit so stop talking to me in your baby voice!! Seriously, I’m thinking I’m stopping by Total Wine after work and using the $75 gift card my son gave me for Christmas to chill the fuck out because I’m fuming right now….more about my director taking up literally half an hour of my time talking about her grandson in her baby voice more than the entire travel disaster that started this entire mood…..ugh
Upward and Onward………or to jail, at this point its a toss up….
Seriously, I’ve been contemplating this all weekend long because I get so frustrated with one of my friends because sometimes I’m sitting there in front of her after she tells me something important or that happened to her and my inside voice is just……”she’s your friend, don’t kill her, don’t kill her.”
This is what happened on Friday…..picture it, El Paso, it’s cold as fuck in the early morning hours of January 17th and my friend Veronica text me that she has a “flat” tire and is worried. I respond and ask her if she’s okay. I get a picture of her damned tire, which instantly infuriates me because that’s not what I asked her.
So I text her again if she’s okay, and then nothing but silence for two hours. I called her but the bitch sent me to voicemail. So I thought to myself if she’s not answering she’s taking care of that flat tire. It’s not until Friday night that she calls me back to tell me her “harrowing” story about how she got the flat tire and the “ordeal” she went through to get it fixed.
Apparently she had gone over to her new boyfriend’s house because he made dinner for her the night before, this is a new relationship and he lives on the opposite side of town. So she drove her over there and apparently she must have caught something (it turned out to be a small sharp, screw like they use on construction sites) in her tire the night before. But being either naïve or stupid, she didn’t feel her car driving any different that night. It wasn’t until the next morning when she saw, she fucking SAW the low tire pressure light come on, but chose to ignore it. Now she and I have the same make and model car. Only hers is six years newer than mine, and the Ford Fusions are notorious for have bad tire pressure sensors, they go off even when you don’t have low tire pressure. Or when there is a change in temperature, I’m talking NOTORIOUS! I did my research online and with Ford. Apparently the 2018-2019 models have fixed this problem but, that doesn’t help me or my friend who have a car older than that. In any case, she continued to say that she ignored the tire pressure sensor and still decided to drive to work. When my tire pressure sensor goes off (which is usually in my drive way, as soon as I start my car) I get off and walk around my car to make sure that I don’t have a flat. But did she? No, no she fucking didn’t, and I asked her when she saw the tire pressure sensor go off and she told me when she was (are you ready for this?) IN HER GARAGE!!!!!
She didn’t stop until she was almost at work, which is a good ten miles from her house. She sent me a picture of the tire and I was like, seriously you couldn’t have checked your car before you drove out of your damned garage?! Okay I know, I sound like I’m being all judgy and critical but I assume that my friend has some sort of common sense right? Wrong….ugh. So she calls me Friday night to tell me that it took the roadside assistance for Ford to get to her and her car over two hours to the dealership. Which was half in, half out of the emergency lane off of I-10 and Geronimo, then I asked her why she just hadn’t driven (slowly) right off the freeway onto the exit and this is what she said. “I didn’t want to ruin the tire any more than it was”……and I almost fucking lost it!
My inside voice, the common sense voice was yelling so loud that it almost gave me a headache, as it yelled…..ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?! YOU DIDN’T WANT TO RUIN THE TIRE MORE THAN IT WAS?!?! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING STUPID!!!!
Yes, that’s what my inside voice was yelling. But I said to her (calmly) “It didn’t matter what it did to your tire, you should have just driven slowly off of the freeway and into the parking lot of the Renaissance Inn and you would have been safer.” She said “I never thought about that. Besides I also didn’t want to ruin the rim on the car” and again I thought to myself…oh right, you didn’t want to ruin the rim, that’s cool, you were just perilously stopped half in, half out on the emergency lane on I-10, where you would have gotten hit if you’d tried to exit your car…sure I can get that………….NOT!!!!
Then she tells me that the flatbed truck got there after about an hour and a half, then they towed it to a Ford dealership. And she complained about how long she had to wait for the Ford dealership to change her tire and put on the spare. My head was spinning by this point, I asked her why she didn’t just have the tow truck take her car to Martin Tire (where she bought her fourth set of tires in less than three years!) and she said that since its Ford’s roadside assistance they have to tow it to a Ford dealership. Okay I understand that, but none of this would have happened if she had only checked her tire, in her garage when the tire pressure sensor went off when she started her car that morning (AAAGGGHHHHH!!!!!!)
Then she tells me that her boyfriend had shown up less than an hour after she got the flat, and stayed there with her until the tow truck took her car to the dealership. I thought okay, at least he did that, he was there to support and calm her down because according to her, this was a “horrible experience” and that’s when I said to her “Yep it sure was, one that you caused by not checking your tires before you left your house.” Then she gets all butt-hurt and tells me “How can you tell me that? Who checks their tires every day before they leave their house?”
I pointed to myself and said “I fucking do, it’s something my ex-husband taught me, and something that my stupid ex-boyfriend reinforced and that my oldest son still harps about because you never know what might happen to your car, better safe than sorry. Especially since I’ve found that the Ford Fusions have an issue with the tire pressure sensors, I make damned sure I keep on top of that. AND I’ve told you about the pressure sensors over and over, so you caused what happened to you today.” She said that I was making her feel stupid, and that her dad or either of her ex-husbands didn’t teach her to be careful with her car because they always maintained them. And that’s when I was close to tearing her hair out and said “And how long have you been single? How long have you been on your own and had to take care of yourself? Seriously, this fucking damsel in distress act is fucking annoying as shit! You, just like I do have to take care of ourselves which includes making sure that everything from our jobs, house and cars aren’t being neglected and in working order. No one is going to do this for us, and I sure as hell don’t need anyone to tell me to check my tires, car, get my oil changed or take my car for a tune up, I know this. I keep a maintenance log for my car, AND if I would have called roadside assistance I would have used my insurance roadside assistance and had them take my car to the tire place and wouldn’t have wasted all day for the dealership to change my tire and then gone to get my tire replaced.”
She just looked at me and then said “You are making me feel stupid” and I said “No I’m not, I’m telling you what I would have done. AND had you asked me I would have told you but you didn’t even respond to my text to see if you were alright.” And after her ordeal with her flat tire, that same weekend she buys a brand new, 65’ smart television for her house. She texts me the Saturday following her flat tire debacle and tells me that she’s got a new tv and that I need to go and watch movies the next weekend and sends me a picture of her new television set she bought at Best Buy. She also proceeds to tell me that Best Buy is going to go an install her new television, which I find weird because, I mean it’s not rocket surgery to install your own television, or is it? Seriously that’s what I’m asking, because to me hooking up a new television set is pretty cut and dry and it doesn’t matter how hard it’s made out to be, all one does is follow instructing right? Wrong, apparently the Best Buy people cut the wrong cables, and I’m like WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY DOING CUTTING CABLES?!?!?! All they were there doing was taking the old tv off and putting in her new television, right? Take off the cables, all of them including whatever she had connected to her tv, like her dvd player, surround sound, sound bar, and HDMI cable and switch out her tv, and reconnect all the cables back the way they were. Am I crazy or am I being too critical of my stupid friend?
So I proceed to ask her why the hell they cut cables and tell her that it’s not that hard to connect a new television set and that I hope to God she’s not paying Best Buy to install it for her. I also told her that if she would have told me I would have installed the thing for her or even better why didn’t she ask her new BF to install it for her? That was the last text message I sent because I didn’t receive a response. Then when I tried to call her later that day she sent my call to voicemail. This is the friend that was being gaslit by her ex-boyfriend, the one who got her tires slashed (by the same ex), the one who I had to intercept a phone call from because he kept harassing her and told him to go to hell because we (okay I) knew it was him making her suffer all along. There isn’t a big enough face palm for how I feel right about now.
And I’m seriously tired of this stupid damsel in distress act she pulls, the thing is, can my friend really be that naïve or is it just stupidity? I really want to know, because to me, common sense takes over when there are issue life throws at you. I mean I installed the smart tv in my room, my computer, my printer, hell I even installed the mini blinds in my house and I fixed the ceiling fan in my room. I changed out the cabin filter on my car, and if I absolutely have to, I will do the tune up as well, but I don’t have to because my son does it for me. He volunteers since he lives with his mom and doesn’t pay rent, lol.
But, I’ve learned to do so much on my own because even when Lestat was in my life, I learned from watching him do things, and I managed to patch a hole in the wall in my hallway, as well as patch the small holes in the bedroom doors, change out the doorknobs and install the washer and dryer I bought myself. I mean, I’ve changed out a flat tire on my car (not that I wanted to but I didn’t have a choice) because I was shown how to by my stupid ex-husband and ex-boyfriend to fend for myself because nothing, and I do mean nothing in this life is certain. So am I being too critical of my friend and her inability to think for herself or is she really that fucking clueless about using her common sense? Seriously, if I’m being a bitch I want to know because I can’t deal with stupid people, it’s draining and the constant having to reassure them is out of character for me. I will not reinforce stupidity, it only germinates into more stupidity and then I will have to kill a bitch for being that fucking dumb.
Also before all this happened, she found a job posting for JP’s position (my ex work husband who left) and asked me about it. Then she told me she was going to apply for it, but I don’t think I can take working with a friend here at work, especially if I can’t figure out whether it’s stupidity or naiveté that she suffers from. It’s already bad enough having to deal with Baby Kermit and her incessant throat clearing operatics I have to hear on a daily basis, ugh. And if I’m going to have to train her what I learned from JP, because I had to show him how to create sub-awards, it will be unbearable, so I think I may just apply for his position myself………because I know I can do it.
I know many will read this and criticize me for being hard on my friend. But one can only deal with situations like the ones she’s gone through, being a friend, and not wonder if she really is naive or not. Seriously I don’t think I’ve met someone as clueless as my friend and I love my dear friend. But sometime I have to wonder…..where the fuck she comes up with some of the situations he gets herself into or her manner of thinking.
Until next time, when the Huntress will talk about the things kids say……to embarrass their parents.
This question came about because of a shopping excursion to buy a pair of jeans……
I will buy a lot of things on Amazon, for convenience of course, like shampoo, deodorant, laundry detergent because they come in bulk. And sometimes one gets a really good deal on these items if you purchase them often. Clothes however I will buy with caution, especially women’s clothes because one size does not mean it fits all. Women’s clothing sizes will vary from one brand to another. So a size 10 dress in one brand can be a size 8 in another, frustrating for sure. But jeans are one thing I won’t buy on Amazon or anywhere online because sizes vary drastically by brand/manufacturer. So during my lunch hour (and in order to get away from Baby Kermit’s constant, annoying bull frog, scratchy, loud, raspy throat clearing) I made my way to Kohl’s to find some black jeans for my upcoming trip to Nashville.
I walked in thinking I’d find the perfect black jean to go with my business casual wardrobe for this training/conference. Then, as I made my way from one jean design/brand to another I didn’t even bother with the sizes. Why? Because I couldn’t get over the damned sticker shock prices that’s why. They were advertising a “sale” half off or buy one get one half price, and I was like why the fuck would I buy one pair that probably costs as much as a goddamned car payment to get half off the other?! Seriously, the Levi’s women’s jeans were $59 and the other brands like Gloria Vanderbilt were $44, and nothing lower than $35. Which is fucking ridiculous, their jeans not diamond encrusted bras, like Victoria’s Secret make for their annual fashion show, I mean come the fuck on!
Then adding to my aggravation I go to Target which is seemingly more my price range, and then find that all the jeans, I MEAN ALL THE JEANS are low rise, skinny. Why would stores like Target cater ONLY to millennial’s and carry just skinny low rise jeans?!?! Has their marketing department not realized that the majority of the American population is overweight? I’ve seen millennial’s (overweight millennial’s at that) try and fit their full sized, chubby asses into skinny jeans, it is NOT a pretty picture. I’m not fat shaming here, I’d never do that but sometimes one has to wonder why a person would try and fit into something that clearly is two sizes too small?
Anyway back to shopping, and as I’m trying to look through the sizes I hear some snarky young girl tell her mom that if she didn’t like any of the jeans at Target, she can go and get old mom jeans to wear. Then this snarky little bitch laughs and walks away, she must have been 13 or 14 years old at the most. I really wanted to just tell the little bitch, your headed down the same road, remember this. But, meh who am I to say something like that? Okay I have and I probably will again but I was still in sticker shock at the jeans I was looking at.
So why do older women like me seem to not be able to find jeans for us, sensible jeans, jeans that aren’t overpriced, low rise, skinny ass, can’t fit my muffin top, my ass is too big, my calves are literally COW jeans?!?!?! Skinny jeans are my enemy, I have big calves, and skinny jeans don’t do it for me, they accentuate my big, fat lower legs which are already a menace to my ego and self-esteem, don’t even get me started on trying to find boots to wear in winter, ugh. I can’t, for the life of me find a normal pair of dark blue or black denim, straight leg jeans that I can wear with boots or high heels for a business casual look. I’ve seen memes online about acid washed jeans. But you know what? I’d give me right calve for a pair of blue, acid wash, button fly, straight leg Levi’s jeans right about now.
Don’t even get me started on the phenomena called………..JEGGINGS! No support, no fashion sense, no way I could wear those to work, clothing disaster I couldn’t possibly pull off. Again why would companies market jeggings to the majority of the population when the, according to NIDDK 40% of women are obese. Jeggings are okay if your 5’5 and weigh 105 pounds, and even then I think jeggings are just wrong. Besides, thanks to our “executive assistant” who wore leggings without underwear one day, leggings/jeggings were removed from our dress code.
But then again the definition of obese is subjective, I’ve lost 46 pounds, and because of my height (5’4) I’m considered obese even though I wear a size 8 jean. So maybe the NIDDK needs to reassess what they consider obese according to height, because when did having curves become unattractive, like seriously……..but I digress.
I just want to find a pair of regular cut jeans, that are a perfect fit for me and that I won’t have to spend a fortune to buy. If it were up to me, I’d banish the so called skinny jean from the face of the earth. After all there were only “regular” jeans before some stupid woman decided to sew a regular pair of jeans into stupid skinny jeans because her bony ass didn’t look good in them, and made them a fad. I’d also obliterate the so-called “mom jean”, those over-exaggerated lose fitting jeans with elastic waist bands as well. Seriously who comes up with shit like this?
Not to mention that now almost all stupid skinny jeans are sold…..TORN, ugh. When I was a kid (don’t even go there with your fucking “Ok boomer” shit…..you know who you are) because I’m a Gen-Xer and grew up in the 1980’s not the goddamned 50’s. We’d work hard to make new jeans comfy and worn. And now people pay for torn jeans to wear as fashion? I must be living in the mirror dimension, seriously (if you don’t know what that is, watch Dr. Strange and then get back to me). Right now I’m so frustrated with this entire jean situation, I’m going to go have a donut (or maybe two) and contemplate my jean conundrum.
Stay tuned for next week’s show where the Huntress will go into detail about how bras are devices of torture……
We all have them, coworkers that are spectacular at their jobs, but total imbeciles when it comes to common sense. Sometimes one doesn’t really see this until you talk to them in depth about something other than work.
Case in point……………Baby Kermit’s Son Mac. We talked a bit about our personal lives during a staff meeting. I normally don’t join in because I don’t like to divulge info about my private life. Like how drank my weight in white wine spritzers during the holidays, or how I almost killed my soon to be ex-sister in law. Or how I almost got into a fight at Walmart with a woman who was clearly going through a mid-life crisis wearing a short ruched party dress, a fake white fur coat (not in El Paso, don’t even….) and some trashy lace high heels because she was arguing with the cashier that the ugly ass lipstick colors she was buying said they were on special. She was holding up the line, and the self-check outs were packed to the gills. This lady had to have been 65 or more, and dressing like she thought she was still in her 20’s…ugh but that’s a post for another time.
But that day something Baby Kermit said just struck something within me, like a mental thunderbolt. She was talking about how she spent her holidays and then mentioned that one of her son’s names was Mac. I didn’t think anything of it until our director asked her what his full name was. She said his name was Macnamara, and then Thing 1 asked “Like the tennis player?” And she said “No, just Macnamara” I wasn’t paying too much attention to the conversation up until that point when she said her son’s name was Macnamara. Which to me is quite odd for a Hispanic/Latino/Mexican person to name their son.
Then Thing 1 persisted, and asked Baby Kermit why they had chosen Macnamara as a name for their son. Baby Kermit looked at Thing 1 almost as if to imply the question itself was stupid. She responded with “My husband had always wanted a son named Mac.” So, I, being the astute person I am asked her “So why would you name him Macnamera?” She looked at me kind of confused and said “What else would his name be if we wanted to call him Mac?” I took a sip of my coffee and said “Maybe you should have named him Makenzie, Mac for short. That way he wouldn’t have to go through life constantly explaining the reason why he was named after a tennis player.” She looked at me……in stunned silence, I could see the wheels turning in her empty head as she thought about what I had just said. I feel for that kid, really I do because he’s now 19 years old. That’s like someone wanting to name their kid Jack, and then finding out the dumbasses named him Jack In The Box instead of John……*facepalm*
I got up from the conference table and left, all the while thinking to myself, Cheesus Crust I work with some stupid ass people!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
I took some well-deserved time off from work because I’m slammed and it seemed to pile up while I was gone. I was happy to get away from Baby Kermit and her throat clearing harmonies for almost two weeks. But now I’m back and I hadn’t been in the office for more than five minutes when it started………..that annoying, raspy, bull frog mating call that continuously comes from her office. Dear lawd kill me now! This is kind of long post, because one of the entries has cops, handcuffs and a severe, severe beating….now that I have your attention, here we go.
#5 – I Lost My Work Husband
On my last day of work JP, the only other coworker that didn’t drive me absolutely bonkers with an annoying habit, snotty attitude or condescending tone asked me to his office because he “had something to tell me.” I thought it was going to be some juicy gossip about a faculty member or that he had come up with a plan to hide Baby Kermit’s body after I beat her to death with her own desk chair. No, that would have been awesome, he proceeded to tell me that he had resigned his position with our office and was taking a directorship in another department. I tried to hide my disappointment with a hug and hearty congratulations. But I was to say the least, extremely sad, because he grounded me here at work. He made me laugh when I needed it, and calmed me down when he saw me losing my cool, and he was my lunchtime chess partner. Another coworker mentioned that, because of our love of chess we seemed like we were married. Because we argued about the rules of chess, not that either one of us was right, it was just the fact that we both love the game and we both have a sadistic sense of humor.
#4 – I Almost Got Arrested for Assault…………I said ALMOST
In the early hours of Christmas morning I got a text from my mom, and I knew I was bad because my mom NEVER texts me. As I heard the notification I got up out of bed and read her text telling me that my stupid, idiot, piece of shit, belligerent, degenerate sister in law had hit her and knocked her down. I don’t think I finished reading the text when before I knew it, I was dressed, in my car and racing down I-10 the entire 21 miles to the lower valley it takes to get to my parents’ house. My oldest son called my mom and asked what was happening while I drove, she explained that my brother’s daughter was in the kitchen and that my mom asked her to please wash the dishes she used and the little bitch responded with “I don’t have to do anything you tell me, my mom said so.” That’s when my mom slapped her, then my SIL came out of the room because apparently the little bitch was yelling like she’d just been shot. She asked her daughter what had happened and she told my SIL that my mom slapped her. That’s when my SIL hit my mom and pushed her onto the kitchen floor yelling at her not to touch her daughter.
I was FUCKING FURIOUS!!! My youngest and oldest were with me and we were all pissed as hell. As I walked in (at 1:52am) to my mom’s house I saw her at the dining room table, my brother holding an ice bag to the back of her head and my dad making coffee. My brother began to explain to me what had happened and I quickly shut him up and asked where his bitch wife was at. As I asked, I heard commotion coming from the hallway, and as I turned around there she was, the fucking bitch that had hit and knocked down a 76 year old grandmother. She had a gym bag in her hand and her daughter behind her (she was the reason for all of this) I don’t dare call her my niece because that little asshole bitch isn’t my niece.
She dropped the gym bag and ran out the front door, and I ran right after her. She tried to get into her car and as she unlocked it she dropper her keys. I got to her, grabbed her keys from the ground, grabbed her long, stinking unwashed hair and I bashed her empty head into the driver side door of her Jeep Grand Cherokee! I did this as she fought me, I grabbed her by her hair and literally dragged her from the driveway of my parents’ house, up the side walk as she screamed and called me every name in the book. Her daughter and my nephew came outside and her daughter began to cuss at me (mind you the little bitch is only 15 years old). My sister in law so drunk she couldn’t put up a fight, and even if she was able to, I was raging mad it wouldn’t have mattered at that point. I got her to the front porch and began to beat her ass into the brick wall as I asked her “Is this what it was like to push down my mom?! Are you feeling what my mom felt right about now you goddamned lush?! How does this feel you fucking bitch?!?!” As I stomped her stupid ass into the porch concrete.
By this time my brother came out and tried to stop me, then her daughter came up and tried to slap me, the little bitch actually tried to slap me! As I held her mom by her hair with my right foot on her stomach (I might have been stomping her over and over, I can’t remember) I took the kids hand and I pushed her down and slapped her with her own hand. She fell on her ass onto the sidewalk, and then I looked her straight in the eye and said “You’re going to remember that you caused all of this you little ingrate, you’re going to hate me for the rest of your life because of what I’m doing to your goddamned mom right now. You’re going to remember the beating that I gave this bitch because of you! And you know what? I don’t fucking care if I never see you or your sorry-ass, beer chugging, low life living, broke ass bitch of a mother or you again!”
The little bitch looked at me all the while I was holding down her idiot mother with one hand and my oldest son calling 911 for the sheriff’s department to send someone to my parents’ house.
Then my brother’s wife tried to bite my calf through my jeans, and I picked her up and once and for all, I two fisted PUNCHED THAT BITCH RIGHT IN THE FACE I was so mad!!! She fell, hitting the metal flower pot my mom has on her porch, then fell face first in the dirt.
My nephew kept pleading with me to let his mom go, and I just simply told him to go back in the house and get his mom’s and his ingrate sister’s things together because I was throwing them out of my parent’s home for good. My brother and his family have lived with my parent’s for a couple of years now because his idiot wife lost their house by giving half mortgage payments and not telling my brother about it. Yes, he’s to blame too because he should have known better and should have kept an eye on his finances a bit more. But ultimately he didn’t find out until the foreclosure notice came in the mail, she was hiding the mail from him too.
All of this happened within a matter of minutes but it seemed as though it was in slow motion. That’s when I saw the lights of the Sheriff’s police cruiser in our drive way and the deputy asking me to step away from the “victim.” My brother’s daughter ran up to the deputy and began to lie her ass off about how I beat down her mom for no good reason. My youngest son walked up to them and calmly said “No officer that’s not what happened, please come inside. The animal on the ground hit and threw down my grandmother.” The officer walked up to me, told me to get away from my brother’s wife and he asked her if she was okay. She couldn’t speak and when she did, he asked her if she’d been drinking. She lied of course but she was fall down drunk, even if it was me that helped her “fall down.”
The deputy called for another car and walked me to his car, and he then asked me to explain. So I did, as I was talking to him another cruiser pulled up in front of my parents’ house. My oldest went to go explain and take him inside to talk to my mom. All the while my idiot SIL began to yell that she was going to have me arrested, and she yelled continually at the deputy that I was talking to. Finally after ten minutes he walked over to her, helped her to her feet, put handcuffs on her and walked her to his car. She continued to yell, about how she was going to press charges against me, blah, blah, blah. My brother had taken my nephew and his daughter into the house and the deputy told me he was going to handcuff me and put me in the back of the other cruiser. I was like WHAT THE LITERAL FUCK?! I asked him “are you serious?” He said it was until he and the other deputy talked to everyone to sort out what happened. So there I sat in the back of a Sheriff’s police cruiser waiting for what seemed hours for these two sheriff’s deputies to get their shit together.
One deputy came and let me out of the car and took the handcuffs off, then the other went and took my SIL out and walked me back into my mom’s house as they kept my SIL in handcuffs. Deputy Salinas asked me why I had decided to take it into my own hands and beat my SIL before calling the Sheriff’s department. I looked at him and said “Officer, my mother is 76 years old, can barely walk on her own, she has a multitude of health issues, she and my dad have opened their home to my brother, my nephew and those two worthless pieces of shit out there. And this is how they repay my parents? By being ungrateful and inconsiderate AND abusing an elderly person? Seriously, what would you have done in my situation?”
He looked at me then asked my mom if she wanted to file charges against my SIL, and she said yes. The other deputy came in and said that my SIL wanted to file charges against my mom for hitting her bitch daughter. My brother finally spoke and told the deputy that his daughter is undisciplined and she deserved to be slapped. Even though my mom can’t slap hard anymore, he said that if one parent corroborated the actions of what my mom did they couldn’t charge her. They asked me and my brother to walk with them outside and confirm that all three of us wanted to press charges against my SIL. As we walked out my brother’s daughter gave me a dirty look, and I stopped, got right up in her face and then said “I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of your life, as far as I’m concerned you are a little ungrateful bitch and you WILL get you ass kicked in school for being such because someone, someday will be the karma you deserve for what you caused your grandma. YOU will remember the beat down I gave you mom and YOU WILL remember from this night forever. Also remember this, you do NOT have family on your dad’s side anymore and we, all of us couldn’t be more pleased to be rid of your stupid ass!” Honestly I don’t care if I ever see my brother’s soon to be ex-wife or daughter again in my life.
The deputy came back and took my arm and walked me out, as I told my youngest and my nephew to get both of their shit together and leave it outside so my SIL’s mother can come and take this ingrate bitch away. Which they did as my brother called his MIL (whom his wife hadn’t spoken to in four years) to let her know she needed to come get her granddaughter because they were going to arrest his wife. We gave written statements to the deputy all the while my SIL was yelling in her drunken stupor from the back of the police cruiser, handcuffed and cussing at all of us. They took pictures of my mom’s bruises, the cut on the back of her head as she cried. One of the deputies told me that another car was coming to the house to transport my SIL to the county jail. As the car arrived the deputy walked over to the one that had just pulled up, leaving the door to the back where my SIL was sitting. I thought to myself, why not?
I walked slowly towards the open door, the SIL yelling for me to get away from her, and I got in one last, hard swinging punch to the side of her head. She yelled and just as the deputies turned around I was already by the fence door where I was before.
Yes, they got it on camera, yes they knew it was me, and yes I could potentially be charged later on, but it was so worth it to get one last hit to the bitch who hit my 76 year old, disabled mother for no reason after my mom and dad have done nothing but help my brother’s family whenever they needed it. My brother and nephew were tending to my mom and dad, and I told both of them that neither of those two ungrateful bitches were to set foot in that house again and that on my parent’s behalf I was going to file a restraining order on both of them to make sure they didn’t. I spoke to my brother for a while after things calmed down, and he told me he’s been dealing with his wife’s alcoholism for years but he’s done and is going to file for divorce. It’s funny because he’s said that to me before, but somehow this time I believe him.
Everything got wrapped up around 4:50am, by the time I got back home it was close to 7:30am and I was exhausted and I didn’t even remember it was Christmas. Later on that evening my brother drove my parent’s to my house and we had Christmas dinner. There was a sense of piece and we didn’t talk about what had happened. As they left and my dad walked out after everyone else he whispered “Mija, where did you learn to fight like that? I didn’t recognize you.” I laughed and said “Life taught me to fight like that dad” only I said it in Spanish.
All in all this is the short, abbreviated version of what happened, but what can I say, family drama at it’s best.
#3 My Periodontist Doesn’t Have a Sense of Humor
During the holiday’s I had to continue my periodontal treatment for the molar implant I’m going to get in February. So on Friday the 27th I made my way to my appointment to see Dr. Caldwell so he could assess the bone graft he’d implanted in November. He examined me and said “It’s looking really good Huntress, very good indeed.” I was happy, like I had anything to do with the progress when in actuality many patients can reject the bone graft and have to start all over again. Then he made a comment about me needing to build up my canines.
Dr. Caldwell: Well I’m going to recommend to Dr. Robertson that he’s going to have to fill in a small gap in between your right maxillary cusped and the right maxillary 1st primary molar. Also you’re left and right maxillary cusped and your right and left mandibular cusped’s need to be build up, they’re pretty worn down.
Me: You mean my canines, my vampire teeth?
Dr. Caldwell: *laughs* Yes those, do you grind you teeth? Because they are pretty worn.
Me: No…….it must be all those people I hunt at night…….
Dr. Caldwell: Um…hunts at night?
Me: Yes, that’s why my vampire teeth are dull….but I’m glad that Dr. Robertson can build them up again. *smiling*
Dr. Caldwell: Oh…ha…ha it’s a joke.
Dr. Caldwell: *stares at me in silence*
Me: I’ll be really glad to have those teeth built up again. I’m really getting tired of walking up behind someone and stabbing them in the neck with a pencil before I can suck their blood out, this will help me out a lot.
Still me: *blink, blink, blink*
Dr. Caldwell: *getting up from his chair slowing backing out towards the door* Umm, I’m going to get Linda (the assistant) to set your next follow up and get you that referral for Dr. Robertson. *Disappears into the hallway and I don’t hear or see him before I leave*
Linda Dental Assistant: *laughing as I walk up to the counter* Okay here’s your next follow up with Dr. Caldwell and here is your referral to Dr. Robertson to, ahem, build up your vampire teeth.
Me: *laughing* Was he scared?
Linda: A bit, actually he came up to me and asked me if there were real life vampires, and then I said to him “oh you must have Ms. Huntress in your exam room today.” Stop messing with the Dr’s head, he’s a good guy but takes things so seriously *laughing*
Me: What fun would that be? See you next month Linda!
Now Dr. “Cutie Patootie” Caldwell is younger than I am, but not by much and seems to have a very dry sense of humor. I can’t wait until my other dentist build up my vampire teeth, grrrrrrrrr…..
#2 Off To Nashville I Go
I came back to work today and then during a staff meeting, was told I’d be going to Nashville to a Research Administration conference at the end of January. I mean, I could not hold back my excitement, seriously! I’ll be away from Baby Kermit, for four entire days!!! Yes it’s a conference and it will probably be boring but I’ll be somewhere I’ve never been to before!! Super excited!
#1 – I’ve Completed My 17 Months of Vampire Relationship Rehab!!!!!
It’s been 17 months since I’ve had any contact with Lestat, and I can honestly say I feel fucking great! Why 17 months you ask, yes you I saw you raise your hand and then put it down again.
Because I read an article that stated it took exactly 17 months to fully get over someone. That year and five months, the article stated, was what it took someone to heal both emotionally, mentally and physically from a long term relationship with someone that you truly cared about. And it also said it took 17 months for one to be completely over that person with no chance of falling off the relationship wagon so to speak. I am, completely over Lestat, so much so that my son brought it to my attention that while we were at Target, Lestat (and his ugly wife) passed us and I didn’t even notice!! I was floored, I was amazed and most of all I was relieved!
Now, I’m not one to make New Year resolutions but I will say this. I will try to focus on the positive, I will try to see the good, I will try NOT TO KILL BABY KERMIT, and I will make sure that this year is a good year, upwards and onwards!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
Someone in my office asked me what I’d like to receive this Christmas, then backtracked and asked “What would you like for yourself this Christmas?” I thought about it long and hard and I came up with a wish list for some things I’d like before the end of 2019, so here I go…
Wish #1 – I’d really, really like a bra that fits, that doesn’t ride up or have the straps constantly fall of my shoulders. I’d like to wear a comfortable bra underneath my clothes that makes me feel like I’m footloose and fancy free. A bra that isn’t made by Satan’s handmaiden, stitched together by lava thread and unruly, barbed underwire! I’d like a goddamned bra that doesn’t bother the shit out of me all damned day long reminding me, that even though I’m not top-heavy, I still have to wear this torture device that reminds me I have to keep the sisters in check!!
Wish #2 – I’d like to not be asked (constantly) if I want to participate in a secret Santa Gift exchange here at work. Seriously, if the Huntress wanted to participate I’d go and sign up with the fervor of Baby Kermit and her throat clearing symphonic harmonies. All to remind me I really, really miss Female Sheldon and her social awkwardness!
Wish #3 – My Smokey and the Bandit, drive to work in a black Trans Am, swerve into the parking lot, past Truckzilla’s parking space, straight into the first parking spot, stereo blasting Halestorm’s “It’s Not You”, slow motion door opening, stepping out in my high heels, aviator sunglass wearing, cooler than shit walk into my office, still applies.
Wish #4 – World peace…..that’s all I can say for this one. I want world peace.
Wish #5 – Karma, I want karma to come to life and bite those that deserve it in the ass. I want karma to realize that there are so many people that need to have karma bitch slap them so hard they actually realize what they’ve done and who they are and change into decent people!
Wish #6 – I wish I could afford a face-lift and a full time trainer, I have no willpower to do any sort of strength training. I need to tone…..everything, I need to tone up….ugh.
Wish #7 – I wish I didn’t hate the holiday’s so much. It’s hard because of so many factors that have gotten me here. I told myself that I’d try harder for my boys, even though they are adults, they still deserve to have a wonderful holiday experience. I’ll try alcohol, yeah that’s it…alcohol.
Wish #8 – I wish I could meet all my blogger friends, I realize that it would take an incredible feat of money and will, but nonetheless I’d like to be able to meet all of you. I think we’d have a blast.
Wish #9 – I wish my eyelashes still curled, seriously what the fuck happened that they stopped curling, they use to curl, when I was younger. I have very long lashes and when they’d curl I’d get asked if they were false. To which I’d answer “Of course not, they are all mine.” But now, no matter what the hell I do, by the time I’m done putting on my makeup, their flat as pancakes…..goddamned eyelashes, you are just doing this to piss me off!
Wish #10 – I want to wish all of you a very safe and happy holiday season, stay safe, celebrate with family and friends, have a spectacular New Year but most of all know that I am so very grateful and thankful to have found each and every one of you!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
I might have a cavalcade of things to write about this week, it’s been busy but there have been quite a few misadventures going on as well, so let’s get started shall we?
Holiday Gathering, White Elephant Gift Exchange…..Don’t Make Me Punch You!
We had our departmental holiday gathering on Friday, and it wasn’t exactly how it should have turned out. First of all they asked for everyone to participate in a white elephant gift exchange….whatever.
It was purely voluntary, but some I think might have felt obligated to do so. They asked us to purchase a gift of no more than $20, wrap it and bring it to the holiday party. Then after we ate, we were going to do this absurd game which we all pick a number, and then when our number is called, go up to pick a gift, unwrap it and then if we like what someone else has, we could steal it away.
I bought something I liked and wanted because I decided I was going to choose my own gift. So when they called my number (which oddly enough was 13, on Friday the 13th) I went up and got my gift, unwrapped it and was asked if I wanted to keep it. I said yes and went back to sit down, gift in hand and left everyone else to their own devices. I knew no one would want to steal my gift away from me. How do I know this? Because I bought a beautiful wooden chess set, and I knew no one else other than myself and JP would care for it. What can I say, I work with a bunch of heathens who all fought for a huge over sized bottle of wine, a waffle maker, a Starbucks ceramic mug with a $10 gift card in it, a set of four copper beer steins, and two Star Wars coffee mugs. They fought for these fucking things, seriously I felt like I was in the wrong office for once, like I was in a class with a bunch of sugar-rushing kindergartner’s. Someone even said that if they took his Star Wars mug he’d punch them. I sat there with a constant eye roll expression wanting for the day to be over. At least the food was good, we had our shin-dig over at a BBQ place and the brisket and jalapeno sausage were excellent.
Charlie “Dirty Paws” O’Houlihan……Come At Me Bro
Last Tuesday I stayed home because the property management company was going to do the annual inspection of the rental house I live in for the lease renewal. So I spent the previous weekend making sure that everything was clean, put away and in its place. Which meant that I had to make my wonderful cat Charlie disappear for about an hour. They don’t know I have a cat, and I’m not going to tell them because I don’t want to pay the $350 pet deposit for him living with us. Besides he’s an outdoor/indoor cat and my house has almost no signs of him living there other than his cat bed, his food and water bowls and a catnip mouse he plays with occasionally. He doesn’t use a litter box because he goes and does his “business” outside, which I love and am thankful for.
So I had to get him out of the house by 10:30am since they said they’d be there before 11am, my neighbor was kind enough to cat sit for me, and even lent me a pet taxi to use so I could carry him over there. In theory it sounded easier than it was, I picked up Charlie from his slumber and then proceeded to put him in the travel carrier. Easier said than done, I picked him up and now I know why he’s the Kat Fight Klub champion of the east-side, he fought me paw and claw for ten entire minutes! I got him in the cage once and then I guess I didn’t lock the door and he jumped out and tried to run. I caught him by his back leg and he bit me! Then I was trying to calm him down by holding him in a hug and he looked at me like “I know what you’re trying to do lady and it’s not going to work, I’m not going quietly!”
I tried the second time and got him in the cage again long enough to get him out the door and as I walked across the yard he did it again! He tried to escape and the door flung open and he hit the muddy ground and almost bolted across the driveway. I was able to catch him and fight him for another five minutes as I tried to put him back into the carrier. I finally did and took him to the neighbor’s house. I had muddy paw prints all over my black warm-ups, from the waist to my ankles, I had the mark of a losing opponent from fighting with Charlie “Muddy Paws” O’Houlihan. I changed quickly before the inspector arrived and made sure no signs of my precocious feline could be found.
After the inspection was over I went to go and fetch my cat from my patient neighbor and as I walked her house he saw me and jumped into my arms. He’s NEVER done that, and he clung to me for dear life. I thanked her and she said he behaved like a good cat, all he did was look outside the back window and howled for ten minutes and seemed to calm down afterwards. I thanked her again and as we walked out of her house the minute we got to the back door he began fighting me again. I had to make sure he was alright so I brought him into the house after placing all of his things back where they usually are. He went room to room as if inspecting the house himself. Then for the entire afternoon he proceeded to give me the cold paw, he was mad for sure, I could see it.
Then he got a hold of my phone and tried to text for a pizza with cat nip, but I stopped him before he charged anything to my card. Cats can really hold a grudge can’t they?
It’s been a long time since I’ve had an aversion to the holidays, it first began because of my mother and her mental issues, then it culminated with Lestat and the fact that he’d never spend the holidays with me because as you know, he was/is married and spent them with his farce of a family. The stress and anxiety was enough for me to wish I could just stay in bed and sleep and not get up until the New Year came around. Both my mom and Lestat made these day’s seem like they lingered on forever, the constant waiting, the trying to please everyone, cooking, baking making sure that I was the one that made time for Lestat. Hoping my mother wouldn’t have another of her tantrums because she didn’t like the gift she got, hearing her complain about how I didn’t make the food the way she did, “back in the day.”
I use to pray for when I’d be able to get back to work to some sort of normalcy, to a routine I knew was one I could control. But over the last year I’ve begun to stop feeling so much like the holidays were a chore, especially since Lestat is long gone. At least one factor of anxiety and stress is no longer an issue. I didn’t realize this until this past weekend, I finally felt like a ton of bricks was lifted from me. I no longer felt anxious about making time to spend with him because we all know, I had to wait on him for everything. But last year nor this year will I wait, I felt a bit more at ease, more relaxed so to speak. Then I remembered……I still have to deal with my mother but that’s only half of the stress now. I can do it, and if she doesn’t cooperate I can always threaten her with sending her to the nursing home…..hey if it worked for Dorothy on the Golden Girls why not?
No Quiero Trabajar…..
It’s true, I don’t feel like working much this week, we’ve been so freaking busy I haven’t taken lunch a couple of the days. I’ve worked almost everyday until 6pm, and that’s a lot for me since I’m supposed to leave at 4:30 everyday. So to say the least I’m tired, mentally and physically. Although the physical part I can handle because I try and run when I get home. I must say, I’m getting better at it I may actually be ready to run my very first 5K sometime next year. But, as for work I could do without all the bad writing, the miscalculated budgets I have to fix and the cheeriness of everyone in my office that absolutely LOVES the holidays (Baby Kermit). What I could use at the moment is a large Super Supreme pan pizza with jalapenos from Pizza Hut and a well poured pint of Guinness, now that’s my kind of holiday celebration.
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
Work has been hella-busy so I’ve neglected to post and to respond to bloggers I follow. I’m truly sorry, but I’m going to try harder to keep up. So here we go!
Holiday Gathering……Bring a Guest, oh Wait Never Mind
So back in early November, our entire department was invited to the annual holiday event. We were told to bring a guest. So I invited one of my BFF’s to go with me, Veronica (not in my head Veronica). We were both really excited to attend as it was going to be held at a party hall with catered food and live music. To say the least we live very quiet, sheltered lives, lol.
Then, a couple of weeks later we get the notice below…..
And I had to uninvited my BFF to my holiday event. No one in our office was pleased with this turn of “events” no pun intended. Last week I approached one of the ladies in charge of coordinating this and asked her what happened to the original plan. She said (quietly) that the catering company they had initially hired decided (after being paid) they didn’t want to cater to us. Us being the university I work for, they gave no reason but they didn’t want to cater to/for us and here’s the kicker, they don’t want to return the money. Apparently my department had already paid half of the amount and would pay the remaining when the even came to a close.
So when I found out what caterer was keeping our money, I went onto Google and gave them a scathing review, which has since gotten 18 comments. It pays to be a bitch sometimes.
You’re Related to Whom???????
A couple of weeks ago I wrote a post about an office event that I had to attend and about PD and his social awkwardness and how Kevin his “friend” came to my rescue. Well, it turns out the PD and Kevin are brothers, that’s why Kevin was so appalled by what PD was saying and his trying to intervene in the socially inept PD’s exchange with me. I was shocked to find out they were related, let alone brothers because they look NOTHING alike. Weird….
Relationship Rehab and Lestat’s Baiting with Emotional Crack…..
It’s been over a year since I reached my 12 month sobriety in my relationship rehab from Lestat and his emotional sucking, vampiric ways. I’ve blocked him from my phone, and personal email (he won’t use my work email because he doesn’t know it and too inept to look it up online). But, for the last couple of weeks I’ve been getting voicemail messages from him from phone numbers I don’t recognize. Well, to be honest I don’t answer my office phone like, ever because I deal with so many faculty members I prefer to have them communicate via email so I have proof if they say one thing but then renege on whatever it is they first said. It’s a great system actually, for work anyway.
But, Lestat’s been leaving me these sad, pathetic, emotional voicemails that say “I wish I could see you” and “I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing you.” As soon as I hear his voice I delete the voicemail from my phone. His voice or feeble attempts at trying to bait me don’t work anymore, he’s trying in vain and to be honest it’s sad. I don’t feel the same about him anymore, actually I’m completely done with him that I even surprised myself. No emotion, no second guessing my decisions, nothing. I am over him and don’t feel anything but hate at the moment, which my therapist Terri say’s will pass and then the indifferent stage will take hold.
One of my friends asked if I’m afraid he’ll show up at my office or home to try and convince me to give him yet another second chance. I told her honestly, no and here’s why, he’s a coward he has no balls to fight for what he wants. He wants to have his cake and eat it too, he wants both me and his family without having to give up one to be with the other. So, I made that choice for myself, I am NO ONE’S CONSOLATON PRIZE!! I deserve so much more than that asshole prick is willing to give me and I’m not in the same state of mind I was in when I was still in love with him. So, he’ll never take the chance at trying to find me, or show up at work or my house because he’s a spineless, selfish, self-involved, self-centered, narcissistic coward.
If he’s unhappy, then too damned bad, he made whatever choice to stay with Fiona Shrek and his ogre children, and the sad pathetic life he leads pretending to be the perfect husband and father. And I, well I’ll keep moving forward without him, end of story. Okay this wasn’t so much a random thought but a “happening” of what was going on at the moment.
New Office Policies and Codes of Conduct……Someone Always Has to Fuck It Up for the Rest of Us…..
We had a departmental staff meeting where the directors went over a “new and improved” code of conduct and office policies. These codes of conduct address our dress code, now for me it’s a no brainer, I don’t dress inappropriately, never. But for others, well that line is a bit blurred, so that made me think that the higher-ups decided to revamp the dress code policy. Which before anyone could wear leggings so as long as they weren’t translucent or see through in nature. And they had to be black, brown or navy. No pastel or light colored leggings were allowed, but in our meeting about the updated dress code, well someone fucked it up for the leggings to be taken off the table all together.
And I know exactly who it was, although JP mentioned it was him, an off color comment that made everyone laugh. But I know it was our VP “executive assistant” who thought her fat ass could fit into some maroon leggings and it be okay NOT to wear underpants. This happened back in September, and she showed up wearing some dark maroon leggings (with boots mind you….in September we hadn’t even begun to feel cold weather and she was wearing boots!!) a black frilly blouse with a large, oversized pearl statement necklace.
Now, our “executive assistant” is 6’1, weighs about 350 lbs and dresses like….well like she doesn’t have any professional clothing to wear to work. Did I mention one of her arms, chest, back and both calves are tattooed? No? Well, she has a full tattoo sleeve on one arm, and a huge Frankenstein tat on her back. Anyway her wardrobe consists of an entire closet full of leggings and various, inappropriate tops. She also wears ballet style shoes, probably because she can’t walk in anything else or grinds the heels into flats by lunchtime.
So, since I’ve never worn leggings to work it didn’t bother me, but someone from the 3rd floor literally yelled out “Okay, who messed up us being able to wear leggings….UGH!!!” I found it funny because no one else wears leggings much either, at least not that I can remember. I just found this funny since someone voiced their dismay about not being able to wear leggings any longer.
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
I hope everyone had a peaceful and fulfilling Thanksgiving holiday. And that your day wasn’t full of chaos, turmoil or family strife as sometimes is the case. This year, oddly enough my mother was on her best behavior. Which is saying a lot as her “best” behavior is usually when she says something insulting without trying to insult. For example, I did all the cooking this year, and I made pumpkin cheesecake instead of pies. After dinner we had dessert and she asked for a piece of pumpkin cheesecake. I served her a plate with a cup of coffee, she took one bite and said “Oh, this is delicious, really it is. Mmm, it could use a bit more pumpkin pie spice thought.” I couldn’t wait for my parents to go home. Anyway onto…..
RANDOM THOUGHTS!!!!! (insert echo sound here).
More Independent Disney Princesses’
On Friday I was sitting around scrolling through the Disney+ channel and I began to watch the movie Brave. I think Merida is probably the most underrated Disney Princess ever! She’s amazing, she’s independent, strong, brave (hello?) stubborn and knows what she wants. So why haven’t we seen more of her?!?! Is it because she’s too independent? Come on Disney, get your shit together and get Merida her own show!!!
It’s a Novel Idea…..I think.
Last week before the holiday I was at Target, and I love walking through the book section because I’m always looking for new books to read, and I came across this!!! Its a novel called The Huntress.
But wait, theres more! (insert cheese late night advertisement here) I also found, tada…..Maggie Dove, which is also a novel.
But more importantly, it’s a novel named after another fellow blogger, Romcomdojo who writes, has wit and is hilariously amusing, her name? MAGGIE DOVE! Hey Maggs, I think we should sue, get some royalties or something, after all their using our names, let me know. I wasn’t Google stalking you, I was just curious to see if there were any more books with names of bloggers, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Catsgiving Gravy Coma
Have you ever seen a cat in a gravy coma? No? Well let me introduce you to Charles Bruiser O’Houlihan, Kat Fight Klub champion of the El Paso eastside. I made him some homemade gravy to mix into his wet food on “Catsgiving” and he went to town for dinner. This is the picture of him afterwards, in his bed, in a gravy cat coma.
Personal Idiosyncrasies That Annoy
Why does it bother me so much that Baby Kermit clears her throat all day long? I’ve been using my headphones to keep out the background noise. Mind you, I have an office across the main office where Baby Kermit is situated. But, I can still hear her, all fucking day long, and what’s worse is I feel bad for JP, because his office is right next to hers. Oh, did I forget to mention that she’s annoyingly sweet, like overly friendly, as if she’s trying too hard to make friends. She’s reminds me of the character of Patty Simcox from Grease, and I’m Rizzo, just ready to rain on her happiness parade.
Like when Kenickie lifted her dress over her head at the big dance. I feel like doing that every single fucking day I’m at work….ugh.
I Really Have No Words…..
We have a lot of work, my office is unbelievably busy and it has been for over a month and a half. The worst part about all of this is, I have to read and sometimes re-write proposal narratives for faculty that are so horrifically worded, I’ve had to take a break and walk outside to do the silent yell. You know, when you want to yell out loud but you can’t so you mimic that Van Gogh painting “The Scream” and stand in the stairwell with your mouth open silent screaming thinking to yourself “How, who in the fuck can these faculty members be so stupid?!?!?!”
I read over a proposal a couple of weeks ago and came across the word (are you ready for this?) truthiness.
It’s technically not a word, and according to Google it is, but as a research admin, it’s NOT a word we can use in a formal grant proposal. So I will challenge Google and say that the word bestesest is a word (so stop redlining me you spell check motherfucker!). So when I told the faculty member I was going to revise the proposal he actually had the nerve to ask why. That’s when I think I felt my very first chest pain of my entire life.
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
Thanksgiving is this week and for some it’s a stressful time and for others it’s a chance to see family and friends one normally doesn’t see. For me, it’s just the day we get to eat tons of turkey, stuffing and everything else that I have to cook. My mom stopped cooking for Thanksgiving about eight years ago, because her and my dad don’t eat much and they began to come over to my house for that day. Since then it’s been my responsibility to do Thanksgiving.
I will be cooking, baking and making all the perpetration needed for Thursday, and I’m trying to have a positive outlook on all of this. So I decided to list things I’m thankful for so here I go.
I’m thankful for my boys, they are why I’m still alive and sane (partly) and the reason I’m not in jail waiting to be prosecuted for co-workercide. On my cell phone I have them labeled as Ice, Grizz and Panda Bears from the show We Bare Bears. They all have similar personalities that correspond with those characters.
I’m thankful for my job, because this is absolutely THE BEST job I’ve ever had! In spite of having to work with Female Sheldon and now Baby Kermit. The mentoring I’ve received from my supervisor and director have surpassed any other job I’ve had in a university setting.
I’m thankful for all my blogger friends! When I began my blog in October of 2018, I thought it was only to follow direction/suggestion from my therapist to put what I’d written out there, into the blogosphere as well therapy. But since I’ve found a very supportive group who doesn’t judge and supports without making me feel that I did something wrong, stupid or morally questionable. So thanks to all of you, for such wonderful feedback and of course your comedic relief.
I’m thankful for my “real life friends” which are only four, but when you have great friends you don’t need a whole posse of people to know they have your back. So thank you to Deb, Veronica, Virginia and Ninfa y’all are the best! No, Veronica isn’t in my head she’s one of my BFF’s IRL and not only when I look in the mirror. It just so happened that we met when we both worked in what was the worst department at UTEP and we both survived that idiot director and tyrannical managers. I’ll have to write about that time it’s both horrifying and hilarious. Imagine a director who was 58 years old and still thought she was in her 30’s wearing leather pants and animal print tops to work. A manager whose hair wouldn’t grow, suspiciously never move and we all thought it could be a wig, but were never able to figure it out. And she dressed like a man, all the time. Another manager who thought she was so educated and sophisticated than the rest of us, she would look down her nose at the rest of the staff. Until the Huntress brought her down to earth that is.
I’m thankful for my snarky Cat Charlie “Bruiser” O’Houlihan, as much as he’s a pain in the ass (well he’s a cat, right) he still seems to know when I’ve had a bad day. He comes and sits by me and just purrs away. I really didn’t notice this until my son told me he was sensing my emotions and Charlie was trying to comfort me. Of course when I begin to feel better he looks up at me, rolls his eyes and goes to sleep on his giant pillow.
Two Racing Mustangs and NO COPS
Yesterday as I was driving home from work I was on I-10 nearing the exit to go home and I noticed two Ford Mustang GT’s, one black and one silver. They were standard transmission as I could hear them when they passed my on the freeway as….THEY WERE RACING DOWN THE DAMNED FREEWAY IN AFTERNOON TRAFFIC!!!! All I could think was MOTHERFUCKERS, what if they caused an accident? What if they both crashed into each other? As the silver one passed me the windows were open and an idiot kid had his cell phone out and was recording the race. I literally yelled out “Where are the fucking cops when you need them?!?!?”
Work Thanksgiving Luncheon
Our institution had this luncheon for all the employees last Friday, it’s a yearly thing and all the administration is asked to volunteer to serve their staff. The department administrator for my previous department passed by me twice, she was serving lemonade and iced tea. Then she looked straight at me, and said “Oh my god, you’ve lost so much weight! I almost didn’t recognize you! I can see it in your face, you look so good! What did you do?” Because this was the equivalent to having your mother clean your face in public with her own spit, I calmly sat there eating my turkey and replied. “I changed departments, that’s what happened” and of course JP was sitting right next to me and he’s like the little brother I never had and he laughed. Then asked “Well how overweight were you?” and I said 202 lbs. He said he was going to hang onto that little jewel of embarrassment and I said “Don’t make me angry, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” But JP is a good egg, he’s one of a handful of people I work with that keeps me sane.
I Have Fat Calves
I can’t find boots to fit me to save my life. I don’t have calves I have fucking cows at the bottom of my legs and it’s frustrating. As much as I love to wear boots in winter, I have a hard time because I can’t find any I like that actually fit me. I have small ankles and fat calves, do you know how frustrating that shit is? So, I’ve decided to start the “Fat Calve Club” and we’ll figure out how we can overcome this affliction together.
I Like Kale
And I eat it a lot. It came about because of the keto diet my doctor put me on back in March of 2018. To me it takes on the flavor of whatever you cook with it, so it doesn’t have an adverse taste as some might think. Especially in Soupa Tuscana, I make my own version of the one from Olive Garden at home and it’s delish. What I won’t eat is cilantro, because that’s just nasty shit.
I Listen to Opera
I do especially when I’m really stressed out, my favorite operas are Lakme and La Boheme. And if any of my coworkers hear opera coming from my office they tend to back away slowly because that’s an indicator that someone has pissed me off.
Pumpkin Pie Is Redundant
Every year for Thanksgiving my mom made like five pumpkin pies, and I don’t even like pumpkin pie. Even during our employee luncheon I gave it away to Leslie one of my coworkers in trade for her cranberry sauce. Yes, we acted like elementary school kids trading food we didn’t like with each other. So last year I found a recipe for pumpkin cheesecake, and it was absolutely delish!!! Because it has a caramel sauce drizzled over it, and well, its cheesecake!
So there you have it, everything I’m thankful for and random thoughts from the Huntress. I want to take this opportunity to wish everyone a very Happy Thanksgiving!! Eat, drink and be merry or eat, drink and pass out of tryptophan and carb laced food!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
I have these memories, that come at random times or maybe when a smell or sound triggers them. Sometimes they are so fleeting that I question whether they happened at all, or maybe they are just bubbling to the surface. I do recognize many of these memories that I had long forgotten. I distinctly remember my aunt Nellie’s wedding,
I was the maid of honor that carried the train of her dress, I remember the reception in Mexico at her in-laws house, amidst high sand hills. I remember her wedding cake, it was white with a glittery white frosting, yellow flowers and studded with edible silver pearls. I stood, watched, and waited for a piece as they cut through the three tier cake.
I remember the smell of my paternal grandfather’s kitchen, his old fashioned coffee pot percolating away on the stove. Clay pots slowly simmering with beans that had onions and jalapenos “for flavor” he used to say.
I remember him dressed in his Sunday best, and the Stetson hat he wore to church, his cologne, and his gentle hand holding mine as I looked up at him. I remember walking into what seemed like a huge church, the old wooden floors creaking under my red patent leather shoes. The smell of burning alter candles, glowing in red glass urns trimmed with gold.
Looking up at the plaster ceiling, painted in pastel colors, angles drawn holding trumpets and gold incense burners in their hands. The deep set stain glass windows letting in the Sunday morning sun as if to say “It will always be warm in here for you.”
I also have what I call memories of things that might have not actually happened. The movie Urban Cowboy for example, the scene where Pam takes Bud to her high-rise apartment in downtown Houston. I swear I’ve been there before, that I’ve seen the First International Bank from that view or somewhere close.
The lights, the background seem so familiar to me but I have never lived in Houston. I also have some vague memories of when Bud is driving down a road in front of a refinery, I feel as though I’ve been there too, but again I’ve never lived in Houston and have only visited and only for a couple of days. I don’t recall visiting any of those places.
I also remember my maternal grandfather’s house during Christmas, every year he always bought a fresh tree. I remember the smell of pine and candy canes, the large bulb Christmas lights that hung heavily around the tree along with silver tinsel as well as the huge living room window.
The fake snow in a can that he’s buy to spray around the windows to make it “look” like it had snowed, it never snowed in El Paso. Brightly colored wrapped presents just sitting under the tree begging to be opened by me and all the cousins. I also remember spending the night there too, sleeping on an old fold away bed draped in heavy blankets. Then being woken up in the middle of the night to go with my grandfather for his shift as a ditch rider, he helped managed the water flow for the El Paso County Water Improvement District. He kept an eye on how the water was distributed from the canals to the farms around Fabens, Clint and Lee Moore.
When he’d work the second shift from 11pm to 7am, sometimes the one or two of cousins and I would go along with him. I remember riding in his work truck, the Spanish music coming out softly from the truck radio over the glow of the light from the dashboard. His thermos of coffee, hot and inviting, sometimes he’d let the grand-kids take a sip, or he’d bring along soda’s in bottles, mainly Mexican sodas. The smell of freshly made burritos in his lunch box that he’d share with us. He knew we wouldn’t make it to morning, so we’d fall asleep in his truck under an old Army blanket he kept just in case we went along for the ride during the winter. But he always took us home right before he went to go turn in his truck and clock out, it was against regulations to have anyone else in the truck that wasn’t an employee. Funny how so many things were against regulations but no one said anything about it. I remember my grandfather driving alongside another ditch rider, asking how everything was, and the other driver asking “You’re babysitting tonight Manuel?” and my grandfather said “It’s not babysitting when it’s family” the other ditch rider laughing and the two driving in opposite directions.
I also remember the Christmas when I got Scarlet fever, how hot I felt in my pink flannel night gown, the cough I got was loud and painful. That I couldn’t sleep because my head hurt and the cough wouldn’t let me. I remember the red splotches on my face, and how my mom tried to get me to eat but I couldn’t because all I did was throw it up within minutes. How I woke up on Christmas morning that year and didn’t even feel like opening the presents. I remember my annoying baby brother making so much noise on his giant plastic car he got because we didn’t have carpet in our house yet. It was tile and those large black tires made rumbling noises as I tried to sleep while my dad, uncles and grandfathers tried to watch football on our counsel television set.
I distinctly remember the horrible taste of the cough syrup my mom made me take, and the white cotton hand towels that were dowsed in rubbing alcohol to try and break the fever. I do however remember a cough medicine that I did like the taste of…
Call me crazy but it didn’t taste god awful like all the rest of the cough syrups I had to take. I remember I was sick until way past Christmas and that my presents remained unopened under the tree for a week afterwards.
I also have a memory of distinctly walking down a hallway of a house I don’t recognize, I mean it’s a house here in El Paso, and I swear I’ve never been in it. But when I was dating Lestat it was for sale and although the bastard would have never bought me a house I was curious about it. We saw they had an open house when it went up for sale, and I walked in, and quickly made my way upstairs. Lestat followed and it was like I knew where everything was, I even found hidden panels in the door way to the master bedroom. The shelves inside the heavy wooden panels were all full of dust and had some old newspapers inside, from the early 1900’s.
The realtor asked me if my family had previously owned the house and I said no. Because of course they hadn’t, then Lestat asked me how I knew where the master bedroom was and how I found those panels. I said I didn’t know. But I remember being in that house, or was it a dream? It couldn’t have been because after all these years I still have the realtor’s business card, so how did I know?
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
Is not something I say too often, other than at work I mean, because that comes out of my mouth every single day to faculty members who don’t get what my job is and how I’m here to help them not fuck up their proposals. But in my private life, I don’t say it often when I have to explain to someone who asks me if I’m married and then find I’ve been divorced for twenty years and haven’t remarried.
Last week my office was extremely busy, I stayed late almost all week, leaving the office about six-thirty or so and getting home mentally exhausted to where I didn’t even run or eat dinner. But on Thursday we had a sort of “meet and greet” with other departments so we (and they) could get to know what it is we do and why and vice versa. The turnout was a lot more than first expected, but then again advertise there will be “refreshments” and the entire university will show up to freeload a catered affair. So we had to mingle and introduce ourselves to faculty and staff members we’d only dealt with over the phone, not really knowing each other than by our voice.
Our Vice President, my director, supervisor, JP, Baby Kermit and Thing 1 were all doing this awkward social dance, pretending to be nice (okay I was the only one pretending) and introducing ourselves, generating small talk before our VP was to speak to the crowd to make some small announcements regarding changes of operating procedures on how we would work on grant proposals. This little work shindig was after work so there was alcohol (thank god) which consisted of red and white wine only, appetizers and small individual dessert options. As I made my way around the room I encountered a faculty member that I’d dealt with on many occasions but never knew him face to face. We’d emailed each other back and forth regarding his proposals, he’d call me to ask questions and such. But neither he nor I knew what we looked like. So when I introduced myself, he looked surprised, and he’s a professor okay so he has no social skills. I realize not all professors/faculty members are like that, but in my experience I’ve realized that a lot of them don’t, I’ve worked in higher education for almost eighteen years. We shook hands and while holding my glass of chardonnay he kept on shaking my hand while he said “Well, wow I’m surprised” and I responded with “About what?”
He said “Don’t get me wrong, I just imagined you being a much older woman, say fifty or so with thick glasses, overweight in frumpy librarian garb.” He laughed as though he thought I found this funny, which I did but that’s another story. I didn’t laugh or show any emotion as his response was clearly from someone who had so social filter or knows how to take social cues. Standing right beside him was our head of fire safety, I’m going to call him Kevin. Kevin knew this faculty member who I’ll call Professor Dumbass (PD for short). Kevin is a handsome man, former fire department chief of instruction and now works for the university. Kevin was making all kinds of gestures for PD to change the subject or just plain shut the hell up, I could see it and he was really trying not to make it obvious.
But PD kept on, and on about how he thought I looked a certain way, and how I sounded much older on the phone. I could have said the same thing about how I thought he was younger, and sounded so much dumber in person than on the phone. But I was just going to stand there and let this idiot dig himself into the quicksand that is the Huntress’ bad side. Kevin on the other hand could see the expression or lack of expression on my face. He was doing his damnest to try and deflect the conversation to something else. But PD wouldn’t give, then PD continued to talk about how young and surprisingly attractive he thought I was (yes he actually said that) which kind of pisssed me off. All the while still holding and shaking my hand.
I finally pulled my hand out of his and said “It was nice to meet you Professor Dumbass, but I have to go and mingle some more” and tried to walk away. Now remember I said “tried” to walk away, and then he decided to say “Wait, um so are you still going to help me with my upcoming submission to that private foundation I emailed you about?” I told him I didn’t get to choose which faculty member I work with, we are assigned the proposals based on our specialty. Unfortunately I’m the one that deals with private foundation submissions but I didn’t need PD to know that.
As I walked away he followed me, as did Kevin and then PD asked me “Will you and your husband be coming to the Christmas gathering that Medical Education is having in December?” A stupid, roundabout way of asking if I was married I think, and I told him I didn’t have a husband and that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be going to that event. Then Kevin sighed out loud and said “PD let’s go over and talk to Dr. Torres.” But did PD listen, no he didn’t, I saw the frustration on Kevin’s face and he mouthed “I’m so sorry.” I just nodded to let him know it was okay, and PD continued with “How are you NOT married? I mean, I thought women like you all had husbands.” Kevin hung his head as to say, just stick your foot in your mouth a bit further so you can choke on it you idiot. I said I was divorced, and the PD asked how long of course I should have walked away, I really should have but I didn’t.
I thought, why not let’s try and make this asshole understand that he shouldn’t be so stupid and ask questions like those he’s asking me. So I turned and said “Women like me? What do you mean by that PD?” He looked surprised, and said “Well I’m just saying….” And then I interjected with “You’d better choose your next words very carefully because our HR rep is only a few feet away, do you get where I’m going with this?” Obviously he didn’t, but then I walked away and told PD not to follow me, I kind of said it really loud and in an angry tone. Which low and behold he was actually shocked at and even got somewhat angry. Kevin came up to me a while later after he’d escorted PD out of the event and apologized for PD. I didn’t know they were actually friends outside of work, not just at work.
Kevin kept saying he was sorry and I told him not to worry about it, it wasn’t his fault that his friend acted like that or that he was a complete and total douche bag. Kevin laughed and tried to explain his friend isn’t very social especially around women. I told him it was very obvious, we both laughed and then Kevin (who is married) asked me if I was really divorced. I said yes, that I’ve been divorced twenty years this November. He said he was sorry and I said not to be, that the divorce was probably the best thing to happen to me. I explained that if I had stayed married, I wouldn’t have gotten to go to college and get both my degrees, or raise my boys to be good, decent, responsible adults. Or learn the lessons I had to in order become the person I am now. He raised the wine glass he was holding and said “Lets toast to your divorce and the evolution of the woman that you’ve become” I was surprised and a little verklept as I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.
I raised my glass to his, clinking them and then another professor walked up and said “So….what are we toasting?” And Kevin said “To divorce” and I laughed and the professor looked confused. Before Kevin could explain, our VP began his speech (thank God) and I gave him a wink, he winked back and I walked to go and stand next to my coworkers. Now before that day all I knew of Kevin was that he’s our universities Fire Chief, but now I know he’s a compassionate man with a stupid friend who turned a potentially bad situation around and saved his very stupid friend from being stabbed in the parking lot. As well as saving me from explaining why I’m fifty years old, divorced and haven’t been remarried at my age. Because really, why do I have to explain that shit to anyone?
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
This weekend I was binge watching reruns of No Reservations and The Layover, shows that Anthony Bourdain use to host. I was tired of all the scary movies and thrillers and decided I’d watch something different. I loved Anthony Bourdain, he had a sort of “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks” kind of attitude and in the back of my mind he was my ideal man. In any case I was watching an episode of his from the Layover and he said something that got me thinking. He was talking about how English food really isn’t English anymore because of all the cultural influences that have come about due to all the immigrants that have settled in England. He mentioned that the national dish is chicken tikka masala.
Now I don’t know if that’s true but, what got me thinking is how Mexican am I since I’m not from Mexico? Everyone that lives on the border has to think about this at one point in their lives or another. In another episode he was in Cologne Germany talking to a woman who was born in Cologne but whose parents were Turkish immigrants. She mentioned that she was born German, but growing up with Turkish born parents she felt more Turkish as a child than German. Because she was exposed to nothing but Turkish ideals, language, food and traditions at home, then when she went off to university she said she was exposed to everything German. Anthony Bourdain asked her how she felt about herself now, as an adult. She answered that she’s German with Turkish ancestry and that’s because, as she explained, now she’s old enough to glean all the positive aspects from both cultures.
So I began to contemplate this myself, exactly how Mexican am I, if I wasn’t born in Mexico? Well that’s easy, I’m not Mexican because I’m an American of Mexican decent, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know of my Mexican heritage or deny it either. But it wasn’t always that way because growing up all I ever heard of Mexican’s was that they were lazy, didn’t want to do anything but come to America and take advantage of our benefits and such. Yes, you heard that right, I grew up hearing this and guess from whom? My very own parents who were first generation Mexican-Americans. Now, as I think back I’m ashamed and angry at my parents’ very close-minded and backward, not to mention prejudice way of thinking. As I got older I began to find that my mom’s parents didn’t speak Spanish to her as a child. They told her that she had to speak English only, because this was America and she had to speak the way American’s did. My mom and dad both told me that as kids going to school their teachers would reprimand them if they spoke Spanish in school, going as far as hitting them on the knuckles with a ruler if students spoke Spanish to each other even at lunch or on the playground.
I slowly began to realize how their prejudicial thinking was born, but as adults they perpetuated this thinking and tried to pass it on to their children. I thought a lot like my parents as a young adult too, but as I began to educate myself about why certain misconceptions came about. I realized that a lot of what they thought was true, wasn’t true at all. I explained to my father one day that Mexican’s weren’t lazy, that they were the sole reason produce farmers were made successful. That Cesar Chavez saw the injustice of how Mexican immigrants were being treated by the produce farmers in California and decided he was going to stand up for their rights. Because, as I told him, just because they weren’t born here they were human and had civil rights too.
My dad admired John Wayne (don’t ask me why) and though his film The Alamo was one of the greatest films ever. That is until I began college and learned that everything I knew of history was wrong, completely wrong. I told my dad how history painted those that defended the Alamo against all these angry “savage” Mexican’s was wrong. He asked me how (he was kind of angry because what did I know? I was only a woman and he was an all knowing man, this was part of his Mexican machismo). I asked my dad what he knew of the battle of the Alamo and all he could say was that Davy Crockett and James Bowie fought to keep the Alamo from being taken from the Mexican’s. I asked “Is that ALL you know?” and he looked at me confused, and said “Is there anything else?” I was to say the least blown away at how movies made up almost all the misinformed education my parents received. I told him that those savage Mexican’s didn’t believe in slavery and that those defenders of the Alamo wanted to make Texas a slave republic/state, and the Mexican government had outlawed slavery in 1829. The Mexican government discouraged settlers coming to Texas from bringing slaves with them because slavery was seen as barbaric, imagine that?
I told my dad that the battle of the Alamo wasn’t about defending (what was legally theirs by the way) the Alamo against savage Mexican’s drunk on power to control or for independence, but because they didn’t want to allow slavery to come to Texas. My dad sat at the dining room table with his cup of coffee in hand, a look of bewilderment on his face and said “Pues, I didn’t know.” From that day on, he never watched the John Wayne movie The Alamo again, he told one of my uncles that he thought that movie was wrong, that the facts didn’t add up.
I see a great deal of cultural misinformation that went on and is still perpetuated in my parent’s generation and now I know why. They were brought up thinking that they were born American’s therefore they should shun their cultural and historical roots, no speaking Spanish, no celebrating where their parent’s came from, no identifying with their Mexican heritage. Don’t get me wrong, my parents are very proud American’s. My maternal grandfather served in World War II, and stood for the National Anthem every time it played. But my parent’s tried to somehow keep themselves and their children from learning their own heritage by denying it. When one becomes an adult, we begin to think for ourselves, find our own answers and figure out what is fact and what is fiction.
For years I would tell people that I was a fifth or sixth generation American, denying my heritage and now I realize that I was being groomed to do so, by the very people who should have known better. After I began to go to college and realize that my parent’s perception of where exactly we came from was wrong, I began to start to research where my parents came from. Or should I say where their parents came from. My mom’s parents indeed were born here in the United States, but my dad’s parents were not, my paternal grandmother was born in Mexico but was of Mennonite/German/Irish decent. My Granny as we called her, also liked to dress up as Santa Clause for her grandchildren and adapted American traditions with those of her childhood.
Which explains why she was so light skinned, and my paternal grandfather was born in Chihuahua Mexico, and is of Mesoamerican/Mexican (Raramuri) Indian decent and he was very dark skinned. He was also of German/Visigoth decent, how that came about I have no idea.
So how do I identify? Well growing up in El Paso, being exposed to all the Chicano/Latino historical changes and I identify with being a Latina of Mexican decent or a Chicana, which some would say is a derogatory description of the Mexican heritage. But I disagree, because people identify Chicanismo as being cholos who drive low riders and are uneducated gang-bangers who wear flannel shirts (way before the grunge era came about may I add) and bandannas, are mechanics and cholas having tons of kids. Being tattooed, beer drinking, pot smoking drug addicts. But there is so much more to the history of the Chicano/Latino culture than what one sees on t.v or hears about.
And yes, there are some of these stereotypes that are true, but not all of them are. Yes, I am first and foremost an American because I was born here, In San Bernardino California. I was raised in El Paso on the border with Mexico and grew up with a lot of the traditions that my parents tried so hard to suppress, only learning them from friends and their families or older generations of family. Accepting them as part of my cultural heritage and beginning to realize that acceptance why we need to take into account when we hear of all the immigrants coming here looking for a better life.
Also acceptance of where one comes from is important because as the saying goes, those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. It’s taken a while for my parents to come to terms with their familial history and why they should be proud of it instead of shunning it. Although prejudice and ignorance comes to light every so often but I’m all too happy to set them straight and remind them they need to stop their one-way thinking. So I guess if I had to answer the question that Anthony Bourdain asked, I’d say I’m a deep, complex American of Mexican, German, Irish decent that doesn’t identify or hold to only one cultural background. I am an American of different cultures and proud of that fact!
Sure, I joke about carrying a shank in my purse or that I will stick a pencil in Baby Kermit’s neck to shut her up. Or that I will defend my child cubs if you mess with them, and I can get as ghetto/barrio on anyone’s ass if they do me or my family wrong. But that’s not a heritage/cultural thing, that’s purely a Huntress thing!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
Let me start by saying that today, I’m in an unbelievably bad mood, and there’s no telling why. It began when I got to work, as I walked in somehow I felt a kind of negativity enveloping me. Go figure, I should either go with it or try to “be nice.” But I think I’m going to go with it……..it feels like a four cup of coffee morning.
Now that I’ve written about the new annoying coworker, I have a ton of new material to write about regarding annoying Baby Kermit and her child like mentality and way of talking. So here’s another revelation that this person is a couple of cans short of a six pack.
Our entire office decided it would be “fun” to have a Halloween door decorating contest, by group. And by this I mean my department has to collectively decorate one door in a decided theme. So since I’m not at all crafty in the least, I mean that I just recently discovered hem tape thanks to my buddy over at mydangblog so I wouldn’t have to hand sew anything anymore. Being seasonally “crafty” and not crafty like plotting someones demise because that I can do. Just not decoration kind of crafty.
We all had a luncheon last week and tossed around some ideas about what the door theme should be and we all decided on Movie Theme Monsters. We are also going to tie that into some of our job duties. Of course my big mouth chose Jaws, and how each and every faculty member just tears to shreds the budgets we work on. So we all chose our movie monsters and what does annoying Baby Kermit do? She picks………..La Muerte, death by compliance! She sent this out by email and I responded with “How is this tied into our movie theme? Is there a movie about La Muerte that I didn’t hear about?”
The backlash quickly began, I got emails from my other coworkers saying that it’s okay that she’s new and that there is a movie with that name (in Spanish) and that it ties into the theme. Okay I may be in a bad mood today I mean more than usual and I didn’t take too kindly to my existing coworkers defending the newby (the corrupt newby that is, remember she jumped ship from that sinking, federally investigated place before the feds actually began their investigation?) Yes I’m in an extremely bad mood this morning, I felt it as soon as I walked in the door. And now Thing 1 has chosen Ursula from the Little Mermaid, I’m like is this a movie monster theme door decoration or a childlike play on monsters?!?! But I digress….ugh.
Because it’s my supervisors birthday and the person that picked her name to decorate her office door and pass around the birthday card forgot….AGAIN! I have a stash of birthday cards and door decorations in my desk. Yes I’m OCD that way, so since I’m here at about 5 mins to seven every day I decorated my supervisors door and left the birthday card on the persons desk, you know the one who forgot to do all this shit. Then immediately I thought to myself, why the fuck did I do this? I shouldn’t have, that way my part time coworker “Thing 1” would feel stupid for forgetting and maybe she’d finally do what she was supposed to.
But my supervisor is awesome, she doesn’t deserve to be forgotten on her birthday so I left the decorations up. But I did put a sticky note inside the card directed at Thing 1 saying….”Next year if you forget about the person you chose for the b-day celebration I’m not covering for you. You need to put it in your Outlook to remind you, REMEMBER THAT!” She came into my office after she’d gotten everyone else to sign the card and began to babble, that she was sorry and that she did really forget and blah, blah, blah. I was sipping my coffee and looking at her over my coffee cup with that, “you’re so stupid and I know you know it” look.
Baby Kermit’s voice is so unbearably annoying that I now have to use my Beat earbuds just to drown out her fucking voice because I can hear her all the way across the hall with my door closed!!! I do this also because my director’s office is four doors down from mine and Baby Kermit is always in there….I mean ALWAYS! I know I sound like a complete and total killjoy and that I’m intolerant of my new coworker. But I can’t shake this feeling that she was hired on purpose to avoid going through that investigation that’s currently looming over her previous place of employment. Let’s just say it’s a gut feeling. I need to close my door, have another couple cups of coffee and listen to some Christopher Cross, maybe some “Sailing” might help me chill out right now.
On the other hand some Hole, Celebrity Skin might do the trick. Yep meh bitch Courtney has got my back!
“I’m all I want to be, a walking study in demonology…….yeah!”
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch your back!
A couple of months ago I wrote a post about finally getting to buy my own house. Well, as the slow and tedious process of the home buying began to unfold it slowly and surely turned to pure and utter shit! Yep y’all heard that right not only am I not getting a house, but the debacle that led to it has pissed me off beyond belief. It all began when I contacted the awesome realtor I had that went out of her way to find me the perfect home for my budget and me as an individual.
She had Mr. Fat Ass (I’ll explain this name in a bit) from one of the mortgage companies she uses to contact me, he took my information and he quickly evaluated my financials and told my realtor Laura that I was good to go, and he told her what my price range was. She also let him know that I only had about $1100 for a down payment and he said he could get me into the down payment assistance program, he said it was no problem. So she and I hit the road running looking for a house in the range of $125K.
Now to some people that doesn’t sound like much, but $125K in El Paso can buy you a whole lot of house, the one I had chosen was almost 1600sq feet, and that’s a hell of a lot bigger than the rental I live in now. Not to mention that the kitchen isn’t just a sink and fridge, like the house I live in, ugh it’s so frustrating cooking in that piss ant kitchen!
Okay I’m getting of track here, anyway we looked and looked and then I found it, the gem in the dirt, the crystal skull in the kingdom, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow! We quickly signed a contract, I took half my paycheck to put down $650 earnest money and off I was thinking I would soon have the keys to my very own home!
The buyer accepted a low ball offer of $116K because we negotiated in a conversion to refrigerated air from the swamp cooler the house currently had. I was to say the least, a happy camper. Until that is the mortgage dude stopped calling me, answering my calls, emails and my realtors repeated calls as well. Since he had told the both of us we were “good to go” we didn’t really worry all that much. I had to pay for the appraisal, which cost me another $350 and the inspection was going to cost $380. I thought that’s okay since my realtor said she’d pay for the inspection and I could pay her back when I got my next check. What realtor does that? She’s amazing I’m telling you. I asked her if I should give the property manager that handles the rental house I live in for the owner my notice to vacate. She said to do it, so I did and I was elated because for the last five years it’s been a nightmare living in that house.
Things need to be fixed that never get fixed because when I put in a request, the property management company had to notify the owner if she “approves” of the repairs. And the bitch never does! She’s a penny pinching, motherfucking tight-fisted whore! Sorry, just stating the truth here. I’ve lived in that house going on thirteen years, and around year six we got a bad hail storm. Her insurance sent out an inspector to evaluate the roof and she got a big fat check, but did the bitch replace the roof? No, no she fucking didn’t, it began to leak, severely over the dining area. When I complained to the management company they told me that they had already told her. I wrote them a nice long letter, with a copy of my lease and tenants’ rights from the State of Texas to tell them they, as well as the landlord were in violation of their very own lease.
The very next day she (the landlord) shows up with her sister and her brother in law to “fix” the leak on the roof. Did I mention that she and her sister are cheap ass Filipinos? No? Okay I mentioned it, the sister climbs into the attic to find the leak and they do a half assed job putting roofing tar where they “think” the leak is.
Ugh okay I’m getting off track here, I’ll get back to the story of my cheap ass landlord later. So I gave notice to vacate, I began packing up my things in boxes which are now sitting in my garage in place where my car should be. Then I get an email from Mr. Fat Ass, saying that I didn’t qualify for the FHA loan he was working on because of my student load debt. BUT that I do qualify for a conventional loan because they take into consideration what I pay on a monthly basis NOT the entire amount I owe, which is a lot.
So he goes to work to get me into a conventional mortgage. So me and my realtor keep working on everything else, then he emails me another week later saying I need to bring up my credit score a bit more. I ask why, he said so that I can qualify for the down payment assistance program. I’m like whoa, whoa, whoa you said I did qualify, he said I would if I pay off the only credit card I have.
At the time I had a balance of $745 on my card, but he said if I could pay that amount off he could do a re-score. At this time all my liquid funds were tied up in the earnest money, the pending repayment of the inspection to my realtor and paying for the movers. So what did the Huntress do? For the second time in my life I had a clear title on my precious car, so I went to go and hock my beautiful Ford Fusion to pay down the goddamned credit card. Because this mortgage dude knew what he was doing right? So I borrowed against my car, paid off the balance on my credit card and I waited.
Only now I was feeling a bit uneasy about Mr. Fat Ass Mortgage Guy, after four days I get a text from my realtor to call her ASAP. I was at work and when I saw the text I had a sinking feeling that this was not going to go well. I closed the door to my office and called her, and she said right away that it wasn’t good news. She began to tell me that after the re-score my credit score didn’t go up enough for me to qualify for the down payment assistance program, but it was enough to get a conventional mortgage. So in essence now I had no down payment, my car was in title loan pawnshop hell, I had given notice to vacate my rental house, and I owed my realtor $380 for the inspection of the property.
She said if I could come up with the 3.5% down payment on my own we could move forward, which is about $4200 not including another $650 earnest money, $380 inspection and $350 for the appraisal! I literally broke down telling her how in the fuck was I supposed to do that when the $1100 I had gone in with was up in smoke and that Fat Ass had said I was “good to go!” She said she was going to call him about everything but wanted to tell me what had happened. After I got off the phone I had to contemplate my next move, to let the landlord’s management company know that I wasn’t going to leave after all. Which would be a nightmare in itself because the snarky bitch who runs the place is one of those “I told you so” kind of people.
I emailed her and she promptly responded with “we will ALLOW you to stay” and I’m like what do you mean allow me?!?! I’ve paid over $97K in rent and you are going to ALLOW me to stay?!?
I got a call from my realtor and I told her what the management company had said and she offered me one of her rental homes on a month to month, at a reasonable rental amount so I could put together my down payment. I appreciated her offer but I didn’t have money for the deposit or the moving expenses so I had to stay in the house I was in. Then I got an email an hour and a half later, it was from my realtor saying that the owner of the property I had a contract with was not going to be releasing the earnest money. So, I was out more than the $1100 I had initially put into this entire process.
A couple of days later I get another email from Laura, she copied me on the email to the director of the mortgage company telling him what had transpired and that she would no longer be using their company because of the careless way Mr. Fat Ass mortgage guy had handled my home purchase. The director said he would refund me the earnest money and that he was truly sorry about what she and I had gone through. That was on August 22nd and I still don’t have my earnest money back, and I’m not holding my breath either.
I got onto their website and Google and did the worst review of this half assed mortgage company I could possibly write! I let them have it and I went into detail about what had happened to me and how I would warn anyone and everyone NOT to use them. This too was in August, yesterday my Google review had over 54 comments and after which I got into the mortgage company website and Mr. Fat Ass is no longer on the website as a mortgage consultant/expert. By the way the name Mr. Fat Ass is because when I saw the picture of the mortgage dude he looked like a Hispanic version of Chris Farley, okay bigger.
As of today I’m still living in that crappy rental house and I recently discovered I have to have periodontal work done that has already cost me $1550, which should have gone to my down payment fund. I am so fucking angry at how this entire situation went down, but with that said lesson learned. I’ve had this post written since it all happened back in August, but I was too angry and too embarrassed by what I had been though to post it. After my therapist Terri talked to me she said I should because it’s like letting go of the situation and moving on. So here I am, and here is my home purchase debacle for everyone to read.
I’m going to channel my inner Sophie Patrillo, so here I go……
Picture it, a random state university somewhere in Texas. It’s 7:05am and I’m the only one in the office, I’m sitting quietly reading blogs that I follow since technically I don’t start work until 7:30am. I’m letting my cappuccino (that I made myself) cool a bit because it’s hawt AF. I’m enjoying the quiet of the office, no one here but me and the two ghosts that reside here.
All of a sudden, from the hallway I hear stirrings of some sort, I wonder and dismiss whatever it was and go back to reading River’s blog about how beautiful Maine is in the fall (sooooo jelly right now that I’m not in Maine). Then I hear it again, only this time………..IT TALKS!!!!
It says, in a creepy Kermit the Frog voice “can you please open my office door? I don’t have a key yet and I’m here extra early to set up my stuff.” It’s the new “coworker” they hired to replace Female Sheldon. I’m not one bit exaggerating when I say she sounds like a female version of Kermit the Frog. Now I told myself on my 50th birthday a couple of weeks ago that I was going to really try and be nice, and I mean nice in general because I can come off as somewhat of a bitch (so I’ve been told).
So I look up at Kermit and without saying a word, I leave my office and walk across the hallway to open the main office then her office door. She has boxes and boxes of crap and I wondered how she was going to fit all that crap into a tiny little office. She’s getting Female Sheldon’s original office before they moved her up to the 3rd floor near the labs. Female Kermit has been here for two weeks already, yep two weeks and she’s just now settling in. Not only does she have the voice of a Muppet, she’s an older lady (yes older than I am) who worked at my old university in the same office as my director. HHmmm? Does that seem kind of fishy or what?
AND she got hired just as one of my friends from the other university sent me an article from the local newspaper about how the Feds are investigating the office of sponsored projects (where Female Kermit previously worked at before she got hired here) at the other university for mismanagement of grant funds. Now boys and girls, that shit isn’t anything to laugh at, when the federal government pulls an audit/investigation for mismanagement of federal funding that’s some serious shit. Especially when a distinguished alumni (NASA astronaut) brought that grant to the university.
When our office was told that they had hired someone to replace FS, we were all like, okay that’s cool, fast but cool. Then they told us who it was and where she was coming from JP and myself were like WHAT THE LITERAL FUCK!?!?! That’s because I had forwarded to JP the article that I had received from my friend that works at the other university a week before we were told who they had hired. You see, there are only four people in that office and when our director told us about their “strategic” hire, she also mentioned that this person had turned in (and I quote) “Over 214 federal proposals” last year. Now, as a research administrator it’s nearly impossible to turn in THAT many federal proposals and not fuck up at least a half dozen. Especially if you’re working on them all alone.
You see where I’m going with this y’all? So I’m wondering if this bitch jumped ship before the feds began asking questions about her involvement in the mismanagement of those grant funds. And whether or not my director knew about this and threw her the lifesaver from our ship to pull her aboard? This is highly suspect and JP (only other sane coworker) and I have been questioning this hire since we found out.
Here is the reporters Facebook post on the same story that was printed in the local paper, read and judge for yourselves. That only adds to my perception of Female Kermit, as soon as I met her she rubbed me the wrong way. Her high pitched baby Kermit voice, she’s so overly nice it’s nauseating, and she sits in her office clearing her goddamned throat all day I can hear it from across the hall! She sounds like she digging for clams, and JP’s office is right next to hers. He instant messages me with his constant aggravation about her “bodily” noises.
She really does sound like a child, her mentality is that of a child despite being a grown married woman with grown kids, FML. She has a nervous laugh so she’s laughing all the fucking time! We had a luncheon last week and as we sat eating and talking she was clearing her throat the entire time. JP had to text me to calm down before I said anything, everyone else was acting normal, like they didn’t hear it. I was so annoyed by the time I came back to my office I had to go outside and sit under the trees in the garden to calm the fuck down.
So, in short our office hired another annoying coworker who is coming from a department in another state university that might or might not be involved in mishandling of federal funds, who talks like baby Kermit, clears her throat to the point I want to strangle her, and because of all this I can hardly stand to look or talk to her! Yes I might sound petty, and I never thought I’d say this but I actually miss Female Sheldon! Ugh, kill me now!
I wonder if there are any universities in Maine that are hiring Research Administrators?
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
Last night I went out, yes you heard that right I went out on a Monday night (what is the world coming to?). My boys and I went to Tinseltown theaters to go and see Metallica’s S&M2 concert with the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra. Now I’m more of a Megadeth fan and I thought to myself, I’m really tired today and do I want to go and sit through two and a half hours of headbanging, thrasher metal?
Yes, yes I do, because although Dave Mustaine left Metallica in the early 1980’s I was extremely impressed with this concert. I can’t begin to describe just how awesome this experience was and this was on film AFTER the original concert had taken place. And what’s even more surprising is that the San Francisco Symphony made Metallica’s music SO MUCH BETTER than it originally is! (sorry Dave).
I’m not exaggerating when I say that the kettle drums, the French horns, and the CELLOS…..I’m like who puts cellos and French horns in a metal concert?!? Metallica that’s who! It added a….oh how do you say, je ne sais quoi to the entire performance. Oh I also have to mention the orchestras conductor, Edwin Outwater. He conducted the orchestra with such fluidity and grace, but of course the orchestra itself was the bomb! They performance only enhanced Metallica’s musical talent by like a thousand! Oh one more word on Mr. Outwater, he’s a cutie patootie, there I said it! Not what you’d think an orchestra conductor to look like, totes out of the norm.
But wait there’s more (insert cheesy sales pitch here) all of this amazing performance was only the sundae underneath. The cherry on top was a wonderful, spectacular tribute to Cliff Burton, their first bassist who died in 1986 at the age of 24 in a bus accident while on tour for their Master of Puppets tour in Sweden.
Scott Pingel, the Symphony’s principal bass player played an electric instrument (a cello looking thing) and produced a haunting rendition of Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth). Then when Lars Ulrich joined in BAM! It became the most perfect tribute to a former band member I’ve ever heard, I was on the verge of tears! And as mentioned this isn’t even my favorite band but it was enough to move me to stand along with all the others in the theater and start banging my head. Which by the way my three boys were mortified by, but meh, I think I’ve earned embarrassing them now since they are all grown men and because I just turned 50 so I’m with the attitude that I DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK about embarrassing y’all in public!
Here is the Scott Pingel/Lars Ulrich tribute to Cliff Burton, just spectacular!
So, if you have a chance to go and see this rock concert movie, do it you won’t be sorry!
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
I’ve had a couple of ideas in my head about things I should write about. Of course I haven’t following through with developing these ideas as I seem to be stuck at the moment. But I did have an idea about a story about a person who becomes friends with online bloggers, that turns dark and somewhat tragic. So what I have written so far is below, let me know what you think.
I’ve written a few characters based on some of my blogger buddies, see if you can figure out who they are….lol. This is getting to be very interesting indeed!
Blogger Murder Mystery…..
Sebastian nervously emailed both Denise and Hailey, it was three twenty-four in the afternoon but he was in Australia and they were both in the U.S. He didn’t want to call but felt as though he had no choice, he picked up his cell and dialed Hailey’s number. He could hear the clicking, connecting sound on his phone, then silence.
It rang once, then twice and then he heard Hailey pick up on the other end.
“This better be good Sebastian it’s four in the morning” Hailey said angry and sleepy on the other end.
Sebastian didn’t listen, he just blurted out “Hailey it’s the wife, it’s the wife! She’s been emailing Christine all this time, she’s going to hurt her! I don’t know how but you and Denise need to warn Christine!”
Hailey’s sleep was completely gone when she heard Sebastian yell out in his frantic voice.
Hailey said “Are you sure? I mean this isn’t a mix up right Sebastian? You’re absolutely……”
Sebastian interrupted “No it’s not a mix up, I tracked the IP address from her email, which yes, I hacked…. but I found out it’s the wife!”
“I’ll call Denise, but keep tracking her, she must use her phone to log onto her blog right? So I’ll let you know if we can’t get a hold of Christine” Hailey said as she tried not to panic her friend further.
Sebastian reluctantly agreed to keep tracking the wife and said “Okay, I’ve sent Christine an email and a text but, she hasn’t responded.”
“Okay just keep an eye on her, you’re our only hope to track her movements” Hailey told Sebastian
They friends hung up and Hailey’s husband turned from the wall and said “Is everything okay?”
Hailey kissed him on the forehead and said “Yes go back to sleep.” And her husband turned back onto his pillow and did just that.
Hailey grabbed her laptop and her phone and quietly went downstairs to avoid waking her husband again. She turned on the lamp on her desk and logged onto her blog account. As she did so she dialed Denise’s number hoping that she’d answer even if she was angry at Hailey for waking her up. She heard the rings come and go and frantically said out loud “Oh come on Denise, pick up, pick up!”
“Hello?” Denise said after the fourth ring groggy and somewhat disoriented.
“Oh thank God, Denise its Hailey. Sebastian just called me” Hailey said frantically out of breath.
“All the way from Australia?” Denise replied in disbelief.
Hailey rolled her eyes and said “Yes, that’s beside the point. He said it’s the wife, the wife is the one that’s been stalking Christine!”
“I fucking new it! I knew it!” Denise yelled into the phone.
“We both did, but Sebastian was able to find out it was her from the IP address on her blog” Hailey told Denise as she was typing in her password to her blog.
Denise said “I’m getting up, although you know it takes me a while. But I’m going to call Christine and see if I can get a hold of her.”
Hailey anxious told Denise she’d try to email her or contact Christine via her blog. All at once all three bloggers were trying to get in touch with their friend to warn her. To tell her she’s in danger.
Meanwhile in another state far from her friends, Christine grabbed her keys she looked in the mirror by her front door, her eyes were swollen from crying the night before. She wiped the stray hairs from her forehead and got her water bottle to head to the gym as she did every other morning. Her routine to go run, workout and rid herself of the stress from the day before. She opened her front door and walked outside closing it behind her, it was still dark and she could see the morning light trying to make its way over the horizon. Just as she was going to press the key to unlock her car, a shadow emerged from the side of her house, all Christine could see was the shiny barrel of a gun pointed straight at her.
Hailey kept trying to call and email Christine, she knew her morning routines and was hoping that just today she’d stayed home. Denise was also trying in vain, she dialed Christine’s number over and over and it kept ringing and ringing with no answer.
Christine saw the shadow slowly emerge, the overhead light from her garage door finally allowing her to see who it was that was invading her space, pointing that gun right at her heart. The hand on the gun moved and finally a short, overweight woman came out into plain view from the shadows. She was wearing dark grey workout clothes, black New Balance running shoes and her hair was tied up into a sloppy ponytail. Christine scanned her street to see if she could see any cars that normally aren’t there. At that very moment she saw a white SUV, a Chevy Tahoe parked on the street directly across from the intersection.
“You are such a bitch! You’ve made me a complete laughing stock!” said the shadowy voice.
Christine sighed out loud, not knowing whether or not the gun was actually loaded since she knew who was behind it.
“I’ve made you a laughing stock? I think we all know you did that completely on your own Carmen” Christine said as she put her keys in her jacket pocket.
“Don’t fucking move! I’m warning you!” said Carmen, Danny’s wife.
Christine put her hands out in front of her and replied “Or what? What do you plan to do? Hmm? Are you going to shoot me right here in my driveway where all my neighbors can see, because four of them have surveillance systems and they can show the police who’s been on my property if anything happens to me.” Christine said hoping the bluff would work.
Carmen looked around nervously as she held the gun with her right hand which began to shake. Christine knew that the bluff, at least for now was making Carmen think twice.
“Shut up, they can’t see anything you fucking home wrecking bitch!” Carmen yelled out.
“Oh I wouldn’t get too loud if I were you, you might wake one of my neighbors up and they’ll come to see what all the rackets about and see you standing there with a gun pointed at me and call the cops.” Christine said almost trying not to laugh.
Carmen began to walk slowly towards Christine and said “You think all of this is so funny, you think you’re so smart, but you have no idea all the damage you’ve caused.”
Christine saw that Carmen seemed distracted and thought to herself maybe this is the moment to take advantage of and take the gun away from her.
Carmen continued “You’ve ruined my marriage, you’ve ruined my career…..you’ve…..”
Christine interrupted “Hold on one minute, how exactly did I ruin YOUR career Carmen? If that’s indeed the case I had nothing to do with it. You’ve managed to ruin everything in your life, including your marriage all by yourself because you’re a selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed bitch!”
Christine yelled out hoping one of her neighbors might come to see what all the noise was about. She looked around to see if any of the lights in any of the houses around her had turned on.
Carmen began to get more and more nervous, she tried to steady the grip on the gun, and she too looked around to see if anyone might see them, her confidence visibly shaken……
So this is what I have so far, I mean I have more written longhand but, the idea came to me as I responded to some blog posts. Did y’all figure out which blogger belonged to which character? I’ll let you think about it some more 🙂
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
I’ve been told that my poems are a bit on the dark side. I’ve never really thought about them that way, only to say that creativity comes from deep rooted emotions. Whether it’s writing a novel, poetry or painting. I wrote this two years ago, when Lestat’s was still in my life. I haven’t really gone back to any of my poetry since then and even I was taken back at how dark some of these are. But all of it came from the same place, and now that I’ve moved on I can share them, as part of my “art” or writing so to speak. And speaking of art, one of my favorite artists EVER, George Yepes.
The first two images are from a series of painting by Mr. Yepes an awesome Hispanic/Latin/Mexican-American artist who paints images about the Mexican culture. I personally own a print of my featured image it’s called “Adelita” and it hangs in my bedroom, feeling somehow I can relate to her in a lot of ways. Well without the guns I mean, but you never know…..
I know many of my blogger buddies out there have had this happen to them at least once, and some of you more than that. This is what I’m suffering through right now, even for blog posts, I’m resorting to posting poems I wrote years ago as “filler” for my blog. I hate this, I hate feeling like this, as if I’m obligated to write something. Writing for me, for the most part has always been cathartic, it’s been a healing process ever since I realized I could write with ease. I was in the fourth grade and I entered a poetry writing contest. My English teacher told me I was good, and she encouraged me to keep writing. So I did, writing for me has always come naturally or so I thought.
Putting pen to paper (yes I still writing longhand) has never been something I’ve ever struggled with, just like with those who math (yuck) or statistics (double yuck) comes with ease. I use to help a couple my friends write when we were all in school because they struggled with writing, and I couldn’t understand why. Why was it hard for my two friends to write the simplest thing? I’m talking about basic college English courses, assignments that didn’t entail anything rigorous or demanding. I was at a loss, but then I figured out that one of them was just plain lazy AF, and the other being from Mexico struggled to translate a lot of the “technical” writing in English. So the lazy AF friend I told I couldn’t help anymore, the other I helped as much as I could. But even with doing my own homework and helping out a friend I was never at a loss for creativity in writing a report, an email, a handwritten letter or postcard (remember those?).
But now, I find myself stuck in the quicksand called writers block, I’ve been editing/rewriting the book I began years earlier, that later became blog posts about Lestat. The book is a lot longer than the 26 blog posts about him, I’ve improved on some things or at least I think I have. But even after reading a book suggested by a very wise fellow blogger friend, Wendy Megget called The Right To Write by Julia Cameron, I have had trouble in the last month or do. Julia says we all have the right to write what we feel, and gives exercises to help hone those skills as well, such as morning pages. She suggests sitting down every morning and writing in long hand three pages of whatever pops in your head. At first I was so happy and willing and sometimes I went beyond my three pages. But now, I sit in front of my journal and stare at a blank page, this has gone on for two and a half weeks already.
I’m at a loss, I’m frustrated, I’m angry and I’m tired of trying to figure out why I’m going through this. I have two and a half weeks of blank morning pages, I’m struggling to finish my Co-Worker Road Trip Nightmare Part III, and even work is laborious right now.
I was reviewing a grant proposal from a notoriously bad writer/faculty member who thinks that it’s okay to use words like “dat” instead of “that” or “da” instead of “the” in his professional writing, no I’m not joking. I couldn’t even rewrite his stupid proposal for lack of any type of writing creativity, and that scares me because that is not me. Then of course the obsessive-compulsive, over thinking side of me begins to think, do I have early onset Alzheimer’s? So I tell one of my boys who works for the same university I do, and instead of reassuring me he says “It could be ma, you never know.” Agggghhhhhh! That is NOT what I wanted to hear, in any case this is what’s going on with me and why I haven’t posted to my post like I normally do, it’s frustrating as fuck not to mention emotionally drained at trying to figure out why I feel this way.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
Soon after we settled into our rooms at the hotel, the “gang” wanted to go out to dinner. I was in no mood to eat a late dinner then wake up early to go to a training I knew was going to bore the hell out of me. Needless to say, it was mandatory, so off we went, like Lenard Nemoy in search of a sit down restaurant to eat at. We left our hotel around 8:45pm because Thing 1 was still being a pain in the ass and Thing 3 was talking on the phone to her ungrateful daughter who suggested that she should have left her debit card at home. Again I found myself sitting in the van waiting on other people to get moving. We drove around but every place seemed packed for a Monday and we wound up on 9th street at a Whataburger. Which was fine with me because I just wanted to eat and go back to the hotel to go to sleep.
We all ordered and sat in a booth and table next to each other and I ate as I listened to the rest of the Things talk about their lives, what they do on their off time, their spouses etc. I on the other hand ate my chicken strips with extra country gravy on the side and listened. Then Thing 4, who is a very nice girl who works with us and has a baby boy at home asked me how old my boys were. I answered as I took a sip from my Dr. Pepper and then Thing 1 said loudly (and I do mean LOUD) “Oh my gawd, you have three grown boys? I never knew that, I didn’t even know you had kids. Are you married, divorced or living in sin? Ha, ha, ha.” and she said. I could feel the fire of exhaustion burning inside me and as everyone else laughed I said “Oh I’m living in sin, yeah that’s how I prefer to live. That way it’s not a shock to anyone when you tell everybody you’re getting a divorce because you’re married to someone with no social skills, or when you superglue a coworkers desk drawers shut.” Suddenly the laughter stopped and I got a text from JP and said “I’m sorry you had to go through that, she’s not a bad person she’s just the nervous type” then I thought he’s the third person to tell me that, I mean what does that even mean, the nervous type? That would explain her uncontrollable blinking, ugh.
We all finished eating making small talk and finally left Whataburger to make our way back to our hotel. I was to say the least tired, as everyone exited the van I pushing past everyone to make it to the elevator and up to my room. I didn’t even turn around to look where the rest of the Thing Gang was, as the elevator doors opened I walked in and pushed the button and then hoped I wouldn’t get stuck in the elevator with Thing 1 & 2.
The next day I made our way onto campus to the class room where the software people were to meet us and the 61 other university employees. I was one of the first people there, imagine that and that was because I asked the hotel shuttle to drive me onto campus because we were supposed to in the classroom by 7:50am. As people started to file in, late as always the software people began to ask why everyone wasn’t on time. One of them looked at me and I said “I am not my brother’s keeper, or my coworkers either” and she, a sarcastic much older Gwen Stefani wannabe rolled her eyes at me just as the Thing gang walked in.
Tuesday was hard because I was tired, even though I had a room all to myself and slept like a baby, I felt as though I hadn’t slept enough. It must have been the long, tedious, mind-numbing, homicidal inducing drive to Lubbock that made me feel that tired. I needed time to rest and recoup…..
But finally at about 8:45am (yes 45 mins after we were should have started our training) we began, laptops out and poised for learning. But of course that’s when we heard that we’d be here through the weekend and leave the Following Monday, because of course no one planned this fucking trip out well. After the first day’s training we were told during a break that we would be having “team building” after work during dinner, I think I said out loud “you’ve got to fucking be kidding me?” I thought I said in my head but I suppose I didn’t because everyone just looked at me, angry and I said “That look right there, that’s how I’ve felt since we left El Paso.” All I wanted to do was go back to my room and have a bit of alcohol, watch t.v and fall asleep. I dread team building exercises especially when you have to pretend to be a caring coworker. Look, I love my job but having to spend an entire week with my coworkers could drive anyone to harbor murderous thoughts. I wasn’t happy about spending time with all of these people after work as well.
But no, someone’s big idea of team-building was to have dinner at a place called Pecan Grill and have a co-worker mixer because there were 61 of us attending this godforsaken training and we should “mix” with our counterparts from other campuses. This was already a nightmare and it was only the first day. I know I sound disgruntled and yes, yes I was but going to the coworker mixer was probably the best part of the trip.
There I met a woman named Carol, she was from another campus and we hit it off perfectly, we both sat at the table and laughed while we tried to forget what a nightmare this entire week was turning out to be. Her attitude about spending this much time with her coworkers was exactly how I felt.
We began to talk about how spending the weekend in Lubbock might not have been the best idea and soon the others at our table were talking about the same thing. That’s when I said we should just train through the weekend and leave Monday, everyone agreed. Our coworker revolution had begun.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
True to my word, I’m kicking off my inaugural Champagne Thursday today. I think I deserve a cocktail or four. Technically it’s not champagne its “Spumante” but it’s got bubbles and that’s good enough for me.
What? I saw someone raise their hand about the coloring book? So I have a friend who is a counselor (not Terri, she’s my therapist) and we had dinner last week and she said she had a gift for me. She presented me with this adult coloring book called Calm The Fuck Down, she said when she saw it she knew instantly it was for me. Hmmm makes me wonder? I had told her about my coworker road trip and all of it’s anxiety driven misadventures and she bought me this, along with the set of color pencils. I’ve already started on this and it’s right up my alley, also because she’s a counselor and all she said coloring is a form of therapy to help ease anxiety and stress. I must say it works, but the champagne helps too.
Do I look happy? Because I feel happy……or maybe it’s the champagne buzz. And for all of those wondering, no, I’m not celebrating Champagne Thursday at work…….OR AM I???
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
So, I made it back from my work trip from hell, I say hell because it wasn’t hot per say but it was hell in the sense that I don’t socialize with people from work for a reason. I will work with them because I get paid to, I don’t do it voluntarily. So our trip started late because apparently all eight of my coworkers don’t know what “By 7:15am sharp” means. We didn’t leave El Paso County until about 12:30 or so, which is very late. We should have been in Lubbock by 1:30pm but nooooo, people had to stop at Starbucks (which is a half block from our University parking lot) and everyone got down to go get their coffee and pastries. Did I call it or did I call it?
This little excursion took 45 ENTIRE minutes, I stayed behind in the van because I brought some iced coffee with me in a large thermos and enjoyed it cold…..in the van……watching the lemmings getting down, tripping over themselves to get to the front door……it was very exciting *dramatic eyeroll*
Usually I get down and hurry them up, or hurry anyone up that’s keeping us from getting on the road to our destination. But I thought, nah let them enjoy themselves because I will annoy them for sure either on the road or when we get there. Play well little children, play well…..
When they finally all filed out of the Starbucks the overly cheery bitch said “Oh I forgot my laptop, can we go back to the office real quick please?” I was watching her from where I sat in the last seat of the van wanting so bad to have the magic mind voodoo that Darth Vader has and make her head explode. This way we wouldn’t be able to go to Lubbock because there would be coworker brain splattered all over the front seat, the one that was driving us and our director who badly planned this entire clusterfuck to begin with.
But, no such luck, because our director said “Oh sure no problem” and I sighed real loud and mumbled “Are you serious right now?!” I got that surprised look from everyone and I just stared back and said (with attitude) “What?!?!” That’s when I noticed that no one ever really looks me in the eye, they look towards me but not directly in the eye……I felt empowered.
So we went back to campus to get Thing 1’s laptop which she left locked in her desk after being repeatedly told to take it home and NOT leave it at work. After I complained (loudly apparently) Thing 1 said “Oh I don’t have to go back for it, we can leave I can share with someone” and my boss said “No you need it for the training, you need to be careful, next time make sure you have it with you. Mentally I said “Thank you, ya dumb bitch” it was to say the least a waste of time and brain cells (on her part). We go back to campus and she gets down to go inside our building, after about fifteen minutes Thing 2 (our director) says “I wonder what’s going on, why is she taking so long?”
I sigh loudly again……JP (the only other sane coworker I have) looks at me and laughs and volunteers to go and see if he can find Thing 1. As he steps off the van Thing 1 comes running towards us and says “Oh sorry, I was on the phone with my mom, she couldn’t find her meds.” I think that time, my eye roll actually made noise. So I looked at her and said “You took a phone call, in the office, when you have your cell?!” Thing 1 just stares with that deer in the headlights then nothing *cricket, cricket, cricket* I finally say (loudly) “Thing, get in the van we’re already late as it is, chop, chop!”
Thing 1 jumps as she clutches her laptop, my supervisor sends me a text (yeah that wasn’t obvious whatsoever) to maybe let up on Thing 1 because she’s the nervous type.
My supervisor text: Lol, I know your annoyed and you should be we all are. But maybe take it easy on Thing 1, you know she’s the nervous type.
Me text: Ugh okay, but if she says or does something stupid I’m going to strangle her.
My supervisor: Haha fair enough
Right at that moment, Thing 1 says “Oh you’re going to kill me but, I left my keys on my desk”
My supervisor: Don’t you even…..
So for a second time we went back to campus……so Thing 1 could get her fucking keys, after another 45 mins of wasting time we finally hit open road. And by that I mean US 54 headed east and I was crossing my fingers hoping no one would want, need to crave anything until we got past Carlsbad or Hobbs, because I was slowly but surely becoming homicidal. After we passed Chaparral New Mexico, Thing 3 (a coworker who is more on the quiet side but has annoying habits like popping her gum as loudly as possible) said she needed to use the bathroom. I said out loud (again) “We literally just left the city limits and you have to use the restroom?” She turned around and gave me a wicked stare, and I looked at her right back and said “I can do this all day” and she turned right back around. I thought to myself, bitch must have the bladder the size of a peppercorn because when we went back to campus for Thing 1’s laptop she got off to use the bathroom! That was not even 20 minutes ago…..
We stopped at the truck stop off of the Texas/New Mexico state line, everyone got off because apparently all the other Things needed to stretch their legs, and they were feeling “crampy.” They had no idea what crampy was, and we were only 21 miles from campus. That’s when my supervisor came over to say “Maybe you should take a nap, it seems that you’re a bit grumpy or need a rest?” I told her “Nope, I’m fine I just guzzled an entire half gallon of iced coffee” she laughed albeit nervously. She put her hand on my shoulder and walked me away from the van. She told me “Look, no one wants to drive to Lubbock with coworkers, but please try not to intimidate anyone on this trip, but try and sympathize” I looked at her and then my gaze went past her left shoulder at everyone walking back to our van smiling and presumably enjoying the coworker road trip from hell. I told her I’d try, but only if I got to have a hotel room by myself, she laughed and said she might be able to make that happen.
We finally got to Lubbock after bouncing around Texas to New Mexico and back into Texas again, and five stops for coffee and food. When we got to the Hyatt Place hotel on MacDavis Lane and Thing 1 asking who Mac Davis was (she’s older than I am by like a decade and the bitch doesn’t know who Mac Davis is, I could have strangled her for the sixth time that day).
My supervisor held true to her promise and got me my own hotel room. That’s probably because nobody wanted to room with me and I was totally okay with that. Which meant I got a suite with a king bed and mini bar, okay not really a mini-bar only some White Claw flavored seltzer I brought in my “big” bag, all I needed was ice and *BAM* instant mini-bar and relaxation!
Technically we, as state employees shouldn’t have alcohol on official work trips, but I had a feeling one or most of the Things on our coworker road trip would piss me off and get on my nerves. I was a Girl Scout when I was in grade school and we were taught to always be prepared for unexpected situations……like potential coworkercide.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
I have found that there are certain things that annoy or amuse me, sometimes I laugh and other times I wonder how long I’d last in prison…….
In any case I’m still trying to sort through my co-worker road trip blog posts, because right now it’s one giant post and I need to edit a bit more to make it at least four. But I had started this post on the trip there.
I had intended to post it on the Tuesday after we arrived in Lubbock but to no avail. The training and work was busy, and I was getting sick as y’all know. So I will post this first until I can get my notes organized and well planned to let you guys know how my trip went.
Below are a few things that have either annoyed me or made me laugh or both.
I don’t like getting Astrology crap in my email inbox, because even though I don’t believe in astrology or anything of the sort, I still get these daily readings. I mean what is Mercury retrograde mean anyway? To me it just means Mercury is moving in the wrong direction! Anyway I read them just for fun, and everything they’ve said thus far about my “astrological life” has been WRONG! Totally, so I hate getting these things in my inbox, I don’t know what stupid link or website I inadvertently clicked on that now I have Adrian from Astrology Answers telling me what my life is going to be if I only “allow it to happen” and pay him $10 a pop for my free astrological reading. So I’ve unsubscribed to a subscription I didn’t subscribe to in the first place. Done, and thanks for nothing Adrian, nothing you’ve told me about my life has been true!
I hate “traffic-assholes” and assholes using the passing lane to drive the speed limit, it’s annoying. I’m like do you all NOT know that it’s called the “passing lane” for a reason? Huh? Yeah I’m talking to you in your fucking 2014 red Toyota Corolla Sport driving 55 in the passing lane thinking you’re going below the speed limit and holding up all kinds of traffic behind you, you smug bitch. Step on it and move over why don’t you?!?
Oh or people who drive sports cars and are stuck on the passing lane going below the speed limit. If you’ve got a goddamned Camaro, Mustang or BMW, put the pedal to the metal and pass then move over assholes! Don’t hold up traffic because you think the motorcycle cop stopped and pointing his radar gun on the overpass of McRae and I-10 is going to stop you for going faster in the PASSING LANE! It’s the PASSING LANE so pass and move over. You have a fucking sports car, use it for something other than over compensating for whatever you’re lacking and move it the fuck over so the rest of us can get to work on time!
Oversized trucks, most of them are funny and sometimes they’re annoying because they make annoying noises. Yep I said it even though I live in Texas and it’s a common sight. I’m pretty sure that all the guys (because it’s mostly men, no I’m not man bashing here) that drive these trucks that are lifted, 4×4’d, chromed out, two gas tank hauling, noisy tire making, overhead night light carrying, mega-sized trailer hitch, truck bed covering, front winch displaying pricks are over compensating for “something.”
Because if you have to put chrome letters that spell out “Size Matters” on the tailgate of your truck, then I feel so bad for your wife or girlfriend. Reminds me of my ex-hubs…..yeah I said it.
I also don’t take too kindly of people with said “Truckzillas” that they think just because they have a huge truck *cough*overcompensating*cough* thinking they are entitled to many things. Such as parking spots…….take a look at this super asshole below……
Now this prick works where I do, and every morning that asshole thinks he’s parking in one parking space but he’s actually taking up two, one for his truck and almost half of the other for the goddamned hitch on the bumper of his stupid truck! As you can see if he’d move forward a tad, he’d leave the parking space behind him with enough room for another car. But nooooo he has to park Truckzilla this way to prove a point! The point being that he has to own a truck like this because looks alone won’t do it. Okay I said I try not to judge and for the most part I don’t, but when your inconsiderate AND an asshole, my judgement wrath will not be quenched! This truck belongs to a faculty member here and he’s an older tall, lanky, awkward nerdy guy with no manners or social skills who has to drive around an expensive truck to find a mate. I say mate because the dude looks like Beaker from the Muppet’s
Another thing that annoys me are people who STOP on freeway on ramps, I mean really what the literal fuck are you doing stopping on a freeway on ramp!?!?! You look to see if there is oncoming traffic and either slowly creep onto the freeway (which will annoy me too) or speed up and smoothly make your way onto the freeway with all the other traffic. But for Christ’s sake and all that is good and holy DO NOT STOP ON THE GODDAMNED ON RAMP waiting for traffic to pass you by and holding up all the traffic behind you!! That’s a surefire way of getting rear-ended and not in a good way! If you stop on the on ramp your driver’s license should be taken away. But I will add that here in El Paso, fuckers will see you driving onto the freeway from the on-ramp and they WILL SPEED UP to keep you from getting in front of them. So I speed up too, I’ve exchanged the middle finger with several other motorist who do this……
Something else that’s more comedic than anything (this time it’s women) is wearing boots in the middle of summer. What is wrong with you? No it’s not a fashion statement if you go home and take of your boots off to stank up your entire house with the odor of sweaty feet thats fine. But your not impressing anyone wearing any type or style of boots in the middle of an 103 El Paso summer. Especially Ugs or cowboy boots with cutoff jean shorts. I don’t care if your only 19 and think you can pull it off, you can’t. The only one that could possibly pull it off is Daisy Duke, Catherine Bach not Jessica Simpson, just thought I’d clear that up. But if your NOT 19 you have no business wearing cowboy boots with shorts or a dress in the middle of summer….
I kept trying to take a picture but she kept turning around and looking at me and the entire line waiting behind her. I think she sensed she might be getting mocked….she was right. The lady behind me was trying to laugh quietly but to no avail.
So I think maybe Veruca Salt was onto something being so bitchy. Maybe her dad had a huge oversized truck, or she got tired of people driving in the passing lane at the speed limit or people stopping on the onramp to get onto the freeway!
Or watching people wear winter clothes in the middle of a hot, unbearable summer, it’s uncomfortable just to see them dressed that way. But who am I to judge? I binge watched Billions (my new favorite series) this weekend and now I have the Wendy Rhodes attitude towards life which is “Get your head on straight, get your shit together and don’t piss me off.”
So I wonder what Vecuca Salt was thinking trying to get Willy Wonka to give her that Everlasting Gobstopper……I wish I had an Everlasting Gobstopper……for Truckzilla.
I’d Stop his Gob from parking the way he does that’s for damned sure.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
As some of you know I was out for work the last week, only to come back and conduct a training on this freaking cloud based system that we only learned to fully use in the span of six days. Two of those days were on Saturday and Sunday because our leaders/directors/supervisors decided it would be “fun” to plan this excursion for a week and two day OVER A WEEKEND!
But I digress, not only did I almost commit co-workercide (yes it’s a word, I just made it up, okay I made it up last week), I was bored to death in most of the training days, I caught a cold, got drunk on NyQuil on Tuesday night and initiated a co-worker walk out. Okay somewhat of a co-worker walkout, it was more of a, “let’s talk about NOT staying in Lubbock over the weekend doing nothing, getting this training over with by Monday, we’ll train over the weekend so we can go home, discussion.”
As part of our team-building we had to sit through dinner with colleagues from other campuses, which I was more than happy to do since Thing 1 (coworker) was stomping on my last nerve, I’ll write on why later. I got to meet what I’m going to call my doppelganger, she was sarcastic, grumpy, tired of being there AND we both liked the fact that there was an open bar paid for by our “place of work”, okay don’t tell anybody…sshhhhh.
Anyway so we, everyone at my table (there were 10 of us), got to talking and decided we’d bring up the fact that we’d be open to training on Saturday and Sunday instead of wasting the weekend and complete our training early so we could leave either Sunday night or Monday morning. Then other colleagues from another table heard us and before you know it, we had all the others thinking the same thing. Alcohol works wonders I’m telling you, especially when taking by a group of people determined to undermine authority.
So by Wednesday morning our collaborated takeover was in the early stages of presentation when the representative for the software company asked if any of us had any questions. I raised my hand at the same time my doppelganger raiser hers, and the rep asked us what we’d like to say. We both stood up and presented our idea, which was met with a rousing, smiling reception by all the other 60 people in our training room. The three software company reps looked at each other and said that they hadn’t planned to conduct any training over the weekend. So my doppelganger mentioned that a lot of us couldn’t back home and come back on Monday. I believe my group from El Paso had driven the farthest but I could be wrong. In any case my director who, has her right arm in a sling after shoulder surgery, mentioned that it would be a good idea to consider this change in our schedule.
After all, those consultant were getting paid for the training, it’s not like they were doing it for free. So after our first break from the boredom that was this entire week of software training, when we went back to convene the software reps told us that they’d considered our suggestion and if we were all in agreement (all 61 of us) they would train us on Saturday and Sunday. And yes, I have plenty of blog material, and I do mean plenty of it. I just need to sort it out and write it, because the drive over there was a nightmare!!!
But before I get ahead of myself, during my entire work trip I didn’t have a lot of time to read let alone comment on all the blogs I follow. I did comment on a couple but, I couldn’t get to all of them, not even at night because as I commandeered my own hotel room (thank God) I was getting sick and taking meds and was totally and completely tired most of the time. So blogger friends, I’m sorry to have let my routine of reading and commenting on your blogs go for an entire week. Especially since reading Nowhere Tribunes post on Bad Blogging Behavior, which you can read here.
I started to read it and then thought, I’m a bad follower for not reading my weekly followed blog posts, but in my defense I really was busy with work, training, plotting with my co-worker doppelganger to break free from the tyranny that was software training and………..ahem, I’m getting off subject here. In any case, I hope everyone had a great week and I will catch up on my blog reading, somehow, sometime……
I intend on having Champagne Thursday’s every week from now on, to keep myself in blog reading condition. I’m doing it for all of your sakes…..so……your welcome!
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
Today, I find myself on a trip to Lubbock Texas to the home Campus of our University. I won’t say which university, but if I said Lubbock y’all will figure it out, lol. I was told we’d be flying there because there are nine of us that have to go for an entire week and a half of training on a new cloud based proposal software system that our department spend thousands upon thousands of dollars to acquire. In any case back to the “I thought we were going to fly there” part of this story, well it turns out we were but, apparently there are no direct flights from El Paso to Lubbock, none, not one! So, in order to dispatch with the whole we have to fly around the entire state of Texas just to get to our destination, those wonderful people who are in charge with our travel decided to rent us an 18 passenger van so we could (hold onto your knickers kids) DRIVE to Lubbock!
Yes, you heard that right, I’m in a large white van in our parking lot right this minute on my department issued laptop, waiting for everyone else that was supposed to be here by 7:15 this morning (including our fearful leader) so we could hit the road no later than 8am. I am, at the moment the only one on board in this huge van, but I commandeered the last seat in this van because I do not feel like being all Chatty Kathy with the other eight coworkers that will arrive (eventually) while we’re on the road for five and a half hours to our destination. Oh dear lawd, why, why me? Why do I have to be punished in this cruel, cruel way?!? The ride alone will be torture, because someone at some point will suggest we play road games.
Not like the types of road games I’d be okay with like, let’s see how long you can stay silent, the first one to talk loses. Or, I’m going to fall asleep and see how long I can sleep without waking up by myself. My coworkers are a type of chipper that is okay for the office, but pure fucking hell when we’re not in a professional environment. We’ll stop for breakfast/coffee before we leave and that too is a nightmare, because no one will ever order their coffee without contemplating what type of coffee they will get or the pastry that they will choose to go with said coffee. The only positive thing about this coworker road trip is that Female Sheldon is long gone and I won’t ever have to deal with her invading my space in the van and listen to her “talk.” Because she never just talked, she had no volume or filter, and if she’d be going on this trip, my eardrums would have burst by the time we got to Lubbock. Or have to see her dead shark eyes just stare at me while I slept because she had the bad habit of just staring straight at you, no emotion, no facial expression no nothing. Oh I’m so glad she’s gone, really, y’all have no idea!
But I digress…….it’s 8:05am and I’m still the only one here (on time) and sitting in the van with my luggage and laptop waiting on all the other eight slackers to get their prissy asses here so we can get this coworker circus on the road. I surmise that when we leave, we won’t get past the city limits when someone is going to want us to stop so they can have a bathroom break, ugh kill me now! I feel about as frustrated as Brad Pitt did regarding Leo DeCaprio in Once Upon a Time In Hollywood (yes I saw it this weekend, so worth it) right now. I’m reading the email sent by our director on what time we “all” should be here, you know to make sure I wasn’t the one that misread the instructions about the time. Nope it says “No later than 7:15” and the bitch (our director) is not here yet!!
But another coworker just got here and she said as I sat in the van, “Oh you’re here early, ha, ha, ha, you’re working? Wow talk about dedication” as she stares at me on my laptop and trying to make her way to the back seat with me, lucky for me I have my huge work bag and purse next to me, not moving my stuff so she could sit. She just stared at me and I told her that it said 7:15 in our email and the bitch still argues with me. “No, it said 8am” and pull up the email and show her (kind of annoyed) because she’s one of those that doesn’t read emails or email strings from the bottom to the current information. That’s such a pet peeve of mine, but anyway she sees the email and says “Oh, I saw it said be here at 8……ha, ha, ha….”
I give her the stare from hell and go back to writing my post. She finally got the hint and sat in the first seat behind the driver’s side. She’s unbelievably cheerful, even more than most and it gets on my nerves. I’m waiting for one of my other coworkers to get here, see me in the back of the van and make the same stupid comment he always does…..”Oh so I see you’re isolating yourself from the rest of us (fake laughs wildly), you know being antisocial is bad for you.”
Well, all the other slackers have finally begun to arrive so I’m going to sign off now, and will probably post updates when I have a chance. But since I’m going to be gone for an entire week and a half………….I will probably not be in the greatest of moods. So keep the torch going blogger friends, hope and pray that I don’t get taken to jail for smothering my hotel roommate in the middle of the night…….
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
In the recent light of the mass shootings here in El Paso and Dayton, the very core of beliefs I once held has been shaken, so much so that I’ve begun to rethink a lot of things that I’d held onto since I was a kid. The one obvious thing was, my parents were prejudice, not racist but they let their prejudice cloud whatever since of right or wrong they might have had. They would always comment that Mexican’s were low class that they came to this country to take advantage of the “system” and take jobs from American’s. As a kid growing up on the border I knew, we all knew that our small town was predominantly Hispanic/Latino/Mexican. With one Cuban and two Puerto Rican neighbors peppered about our sleepy little town. These were my own parents saying these things, and I grew up constantly questioning their way of thinking. When I got married my in-laws were from Mexico, and at least my MIL’s side of the family perpetuated a lot of the stereotypes I grew up hearing from my parents. But not all of them, and I learned to adapt to my own thinking and ideals. So after I became an adult I began to question and correct my parents on what they believed and to actually scold them because they were, after all of Mexican decent and I found it terribly hypocritical and I was having none of that, especially because I didn’t want my boys to hear my parents demean their roots and heritage.
We also happened to be in Texas, where conservative thinking and holding on strong to every word of the U.S Constitution and the Bill of Rights was, well held onto with great pride and constantly misquoted and misinterpreted. Specifically the Second Amendment, the right to keep and bear arms. My dad had hunting rifles, at least four of them of different sizes and calibers, all placed above our fireplace displayed with pride. My grandfathers, both of them had rifles, and my maternal grandfather, who served in WWII and was a very proud American, had three hand guns and took his grand-kids (all nine of them) out to the desert to learn how to shoot those guns.
My maternal grandfather was the one who taught me and my cousin’s gun safety and how to handle a gun/rifle and none of us though anything was wrong with this. Since becoming an adult I’d never thought about getting a gun or any weapon for safety because I felt safe in the Sun City because we are, at least 97% of us, of Hispanic/Latin/Mexican origin. I am a fourth generation American, my boys are second on their dad’s side and fifth on my side. But feeling safe was somehow taken for granted, until August 3, 2019. As I watched this heinous act unfold only four miles from where I live, I like so many others in our city felt helpless.
Then the aftermath of it all hit all of us, especially those of us of Mexican decent, like a preverbal ton of bricks…..we were being hunted. This came to light after the murderer’s so called “manifesto” was found online. He drove all the way from a Dallas suburb to our town, to hunt and kill “Mexicans” on purpose! So, I’m going to set aside the political correctness and proper language now, because this Huntress is FUCKING PISSED!!
The impact of what happened was nothing short of shocking, for all of us who live here in El Paso. Especially when we found out who this person was, where he was from and why he did what he did. People have tried to rationalize this and give this young, stupid and apparently easily influenced 21 year old asshole the benefit of the doubt. Someone that probably didn’t have any familial structure to teach him right from wrong, and was left to his own devices while his parents tried to find themselves or figure out what to do after divorce all the while ignoring the little bastard.
But this is after all, only speculation as we all try to come up with reasons as to why he choose El Paso to commit this crime which seemed to be motivated by white supremacist and Neo-Nazi rhetoric. And this is only one of my theories, because my boys were also put through the emotional whirlwind that is divorce and none of them are out with warped ideals and taking up shooting practice on the human race. Because I made it a point, despite their father being out of their lives, after the divorce to show them right from wrong, to make sure they knew I loved them and I never ignored their needs and learned to look for warning signs of emotional turmoil. Which let’s face it wasn’t easy because I was working full time and going to school full time, but I made sure to let them know above anything else, they were my priority, ALWAYS!
Since this mass murder occurred my city has been on edge, everything everyone does is a careful and calculated thought process. This happened only weeks before several school districts were scheduled to return to school. All of the Walmart’s and Target’s in El Paso have El Paso Police Department uniformed officers at every entrance/exit at the moment, which makes one a bit uneasy and safe at the same time. This should not be commonplace, we should be able to walk into any store and feel safe. Memorial services have been taking place since the shooting happened, it’s so unbelievably sad, I don’t think a day’s gone by that I haven’t cried. As news about the killer comes to light a lot of us have realized that sadness has turned to anger and outrage.
His manifesto is supposedly (I say supposedly because it hasn’t been released to the public) a long-winded rant about how Mexican’s were taking over Texas and he was afraid of their liberal views and also worried about how these people would slowly but surely turn Texas from a Red State to a Blue one. He also mentioned how he was afraid of Mexican’s or anyone of Hispanic/Latin background were taking over “his” country and choking out his European heritage. Now, let me get this straight a twenty-one year old asshole, still wet behind the ears is going to tell ME about how he’s worried that HIS country is being taken over by OTHER cultures?! OH HELL TO THE FUCKING NO!!!
First of all, let me put this out there y’all, the United States of America is a melting pot of all cultures, races, ethnicity’s and it is NOT pure breed WHITE! No one is pure breed white, and assholes like him actually believes this! First of all let me address his thinking of “his” country, OUR country had people here before the Europeans even set foot on this big ol’ rock we call America. It had indigenous peoples, Native American’s, really…… that’s why we call them NATIVE AMERICANS because they were here first you white supremacist asshole pricks!
Texas wasn’t even a state in the US until 1845, it belonged to Mexico, so the saying “We didn’t cross the border, the border crossed us” is true in every sense. Don’t even get me started on the Alamo, really you don’t want to go there with me……
Also constantly hearing “Go back to your country or where you came from” pisses me the hell off even more. I’ve been told that twice in my lifetime, once as a child and once as an adult. The adult version yelled back “I am where I come from bitch, come closer so we can discuss this, no? I thought so!” This was here, in El Paso in my community where we are a cultural mosaic. This woman was white, but I’m sure she wasn’t pure breed.
When I hear Lenny Kravitz’ song American Woman, I don’t think of a whitewashed version of a female. I picture a very diverse group of women who have roots in many different countries.
Here in El Paso, we speak Spanglish, code switching is the clinical term for it, we always have and we always will. Now some Latinos are being condemned for speaking Spanish as far away as Hawaii! We are being language shamed because others feel entitled to share their ignorant and misplaced opinion about how we should speak. To those of you who do all I have to say is this, it’s not our fault we are multicultural and you are stuck in your one dimensional life with your one dimensional language, go fuck yourselves! If you think that only English should be spoken, then you’re in the wrong country people, get a clue or better yet get an education to learn another language OTHER than English!
During the horrible years of slavery, slaves were brought to the US and sold and they intermingled with Native American’s as well as many other cultures, especially Hispanic/Latin/Mexican’s this is where the words Mestizo and Mulato come from. The fact that we have so many different cultures in us it makes us richer as a people, we have learned so much from each other there is no excuse for any of us to single out one race or culture for extermination, NO EXCUSE.
We as American’s have so many different cultures/race/heritage running through our veins it’s impossible to narrow down where and whom we come from. So the fact that these white nationalist “believe” they have a pure blood pedigree is fucking stupid not to mention naive. Also for them to think there are “pure breed” people out there, yeah right, keep lying to yourselves if it makes you feel better. We’re all mutts, we don’t belong to just one people and to think this way, well it makes me question their intelligence. Let’s turn now to the turn of the 20th century and the influx of immigration from Europe shall we? Thousands upon thousands of Irish, Italian, Greek, Hungarian, Slovaks, Russian, Polish, German, Chinese, Japanese, Indian and countless others were coming to the United States because they were fleeing religious, racial and political persecution, civil war or poverty. And all of them, and I do mean all of them suffered one type of prejudice or another because of where they came from or who they were. They were thought of as expendable and they took jobs doing things that others would never do. The Chinese helped build the railroad, the Mexican’s helped with crops and agriculture, I could go on and on.
So tell me again white nationalists asshole pricks how you are pure breed and only have Aryan blood in you? Because even your idol, Adolf Hitler was half Jewish remember that, no? Oh right because you only believe what you want to believe, got it……ignorant motherfuckers. Even when the Unites States was a colony of the British Empire, those Brits back then weren’t pure breed either, nope they had all kinds of different blood running through their bodies.
This is just a drop in the bucket of emotions that I’m feeling right now, what happened here was a senseless crime. Where do people like this stupid kid get off thinking that he can control the lives of others? Oh right, that white supremacist thinking that is perpetuated by the so-called president of this country. Yes I’m getting political, when one doesn’t condemn acts like these and stays silent, idiots like white nationalist think it’s okay because the president doesn’t really say anything. Because let’s face it, the mofo can’t really talk to begin with, so it only perpetuates hate and intolerance. The only thing I’m glad about is this, I live in Texas and we are a capital punishment state and have always thought that the punishment should fit the crime. And we are a hard state to get away from capital punishment, many have criticized Texas for this. Hell even Thelma and Louise didn’t want to come to Texas for any mischief due to how criminals are handled here.
It was reported last week that this murderer was being held in isolation here at the El Paso county jail. I thought to myself, why don’t they just put in general population? Oh right, because he’d be dead by the end of the day being locked up with a bunch of angry Mexican’s. Even inmates in the jail have been reported to say they’d like a shot at him, and I’m all for it believe me. No, I don’t have any compassion for someone who’s killed twenty-two of this towns great citizens, not one ounce of compassion. If I had my way, after trial, conviction and sentencing I’d have him be killed exactly how he murdered those twenty-two people. I’d rent out a grocery store somewhere that was about to go out of business. Pay generously for the use of the fully stocked building, lock it up nice and tight, made sure there was no way of escape, let him loose in the store, turn off the lights and have him hunted like the goddamned dog he is! No I don’t care that he’s someone son, brother, cousin or nephew he’s a fucking cold heartless ignorant killer and deserves to die that way!
Have a bunch of snipers hunt him down until he’s dead, that’s my kind of Texas justice, and no it doesn’t make it right. But I’m pissed as hell right now, because there are people dead that shouldn’t be and even though I only knew one of them and only casually (she went to school with my youngest and died shielding her infant son from gunfire and her husband died as well) it shouldn’t have happened! Which brings me to gun control, again I live in Texas where the right to bear arms is taken seriously. Red flag laws will only work if they are put into place and even then, they may not be enough. We are one of the countries in the entire world with the weakest gun laws on the planet. Before what happened on August 3rd I firmly believed in the right to carry your gun, license to carry classes have sky rocketed in the last week and a half here. Two out of three of my sons are going to enroll and I thought about joining them. But what will that fix really? There were at least four people inside the Walmart that day that were licensed to carry and not one of them had their weapon with them, two of them were soldiers from Ft. Bliss.
But the sale of automatic weapons is absolutely and totally absurd, but let me clarify, handguns, rifles and shotguns are vastly different than automatic firearms.
Most people that own firearms are in the category of handguns, rifles and shotguns, it is rare that the average citizen owns a fully automatic AK-47. But that doesn’t mean one can’t go out on and buy one if we wanted to, just like the little prick sitting in the El Paso County jail did. Gun laws for the protection of people against others with questionable intelligence and/or mental capacity need to be put in place. Or a ban automatic weapons all together, no private citizen should be able to own a military style assault firearm! If you don’t feel safe with a Smith & Wesson or Ruger then your intentions are not to protect you or your family or your property and are more nefarious in my opinion. Yes people will disagree with me because I’m not including ALL firearms. But this is what I strongly believe, you have your opinions and I have mine.
On a side note (a bit Bridget Jones-ish, as always) as I was researching the types of guns for this post during lunch, campus police showed up in my office to inquire that our firewall had detected someone on campus was “Googling” firearms. And here I thought our firewall didn’t work…..so I spent half an hour talking to the Sergeant (whom I know and is a friend of mine) why I was doing so. He sat here in my office and expressed his sadness and anger over what happened as well. It was a sort of cathartic for both of us. As he left he got up and hugged me and began to walk out of my office. As he did he was silent and when he got to my door he turned around and said “Oh yeah before I forget, knock it off with scaring the IT guys will you? I don’t want to have to walk you out in handcuffs because people think your buying guns while at work.” I smiled and told him sure thing and reassured him it was only research, he smiled and left. I need to have a serious talk with those skittish IT dudes, I swear!
This will be my last post about the tragedy that befell my city on August 3, 2019, writing about what happened has helped. Many people in my office have sought counseling because again, just because we didn’t know anyone who was killed personally, the stigma that we are now a culture/race of people who is being targeted because of who we are and where our roots come from is unnerving to say the least.
But let me be crystal clear about one thing, I am first and foremost an American, I was born in the United States, I have lived here my entire life, so have my boys, my parents, my grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. I am an AMERICAN no matter what my linage, and I am proud of this fact, this is MY country and no one, absolutely NO ONE can take that away from me.
Until next time remember, chin up, solider on and watch your back!
I’ve been nominated for the Real Neat Blog Award! A great big ol’ thank you to Deb over at Being Aunt Debbie!
The Rules of this Award are:
Put the award logo on your blog.
Answer the 7 questions asked by the person who nominated you.
Thank the person who nominated you and add a link to their blog.
Nominate any number of people linking to their blogs and let them know you nominated them by commenting on their blogs.
Come up with 7 questions for the people you nominated.
The Questions I will Answer:
If you could be any animal for a day, which would you choose? I would be a Lycan, no it’s not an animal, well its part animal its part wolf. And yes this is my answer. I would be a werewolf for one day, uh night, yeah I’d be a werewolf for one entire night……watch out people!
What is your favorite cuisine? I’m going to have to go with rustic Italian, like Cacio e Pepe, that is so simple but sooooo delicious and very easy to make.
What is your biggest passion? Chocolate….enough said.
If money were no object, where would you live, and why? I’d live in Michigan, GO BLUE!
If aliens exist, what do you think they look like? They do exist, look into the windows of the White House.
What is your favorite thing to shop for? Clothes….oh wait, shoes, no wait, purses, no jewelry…..
Do you believe in reincarnation? No, I believe that once we die our souls leave our bodies and they go wherever the Lord wants them to go. I’m thinking I’m going to need a lot of sunscreen, tequila and Margarita mix for when my soul leaves my body. But I’ll be in good company, lol.
If you could make one wish, to help someone else out, what would it be?
What little known fact would you tell people about yourself?
If you could meet any historical figure, who would it be?
Kindle or actual book, and why?
If you had a soul-superhero, who would it be?
Tea and Crumpets or Chocolate Cake and Budweiser?
Led Zepplin or The Who?
And that’s it, because Aunt Deb and I have the same followers and we follow the same bloggers, lmao! So she’s nominated a lot of people and I have too in prior awards but hey, we’re all award winners if you ask me!
So blog on people, blog on!
Until next time remember, chin up, soldier on and watch you back!
That’s what everyone says, this kind of thing, this type of violence won’t ever happen in my town. This type of thing only happens in big cities, New York, Boston, Los Angeles, Austin, but not in my town, not in El Paso.
Today has to go down as one of the saddest days in El Paso’s history, today we, our city, our community was affected by a mass shooting. Today, El Paso, one of the safest cities in all of the United States, fell victim to a lone gunman, who’s motives are not yet known.
Today, El Paso is a lot sadder, less brighter, less exuberant because today, we, all of us were affected by one person shooting at random. Today my hometown is a national tragedy, plastered on worldwide news outlets and social media. Today, my hometown was scarred by the actions of one individual who didn’t know those he killed and injured. El Paso may not be as cosmopolitain as New York, it may not be as cutting edge as Los Angeles, it may not be the hub of innovation, but there is one thing my hometown is, and that is resilient.
We are an amalgam of many cultures, races, nationalities and personalities, we are El Paso. Today, someone, who isn’t even from here, tried to tear us apart. Today, someone took lives that didn’t belong to them, tried to strike terror into people going about their day. Innocent people, innocent El Pasoans were a target for one individual who’s actions for a couple of minutes robbed this world of souls that might have changed our world, your world for the better.
Today El Paso will struggle, tomorrow we will try to make sense of this tragic, horrible thing. Tomorrow we will mourn those lost, comfort those that were hurt in order for them to recover, and thank God for all those first responders who ran in, when everyone else ran out. Tomorrow we will face the harsh reality of what happened one hot August morning in 2019 in my town.
My hometown will not fall, we will fix what needs fixing, will heal the way only El Pasoans have in the past, and will in the future. We will move forward with the the scar of what happened today, in my town. We will face tomorrow with the strength and courage that only El Paso and all of its people can. Tomorrow El Paso will begin to find it’s way back to where it once was, it’s people, our community, our city will still shine even through the darkness of tragedy.
Sometimes love is a goddamned train wreck, at least for some of us, the few walking wounded, the zombies of defunct love. The euphoria one feels when you first fall in love fades into a thunderstorm of softball size hail pelting you from all sides. The train wreck type of love feels like getting stuck in quicksand or a tar pit of emotion. You struggle to understand how something that should feel good has you trapped, and the more you struggle to break free, the more you sink into its dark, happiness sucking, emotion destroying abyss.
Its called train wreck love because it feels like your standing on the track wanting to feel good all the while you can see the freight train barreling down towards you, horn blaring, light flashing and diesel engine roaring until its too late. In the end, you’re standing on there alone while that humongous train is on its side, derailed smoking and on fire, train cars spilling their contents all over the sides of the tracks, just like your heart. Your left physically unscathed but emotionally you feel like that diesel engine, no longer humming, wondering what the hell just happened to get you where you are now, unable to function and dying from the wounds.
We’re left alone in your very own vacuum of solace to wonder, think, contemplate, and finally come to the conclusion that it might be that you are destine to be the type that will only have train wreck love. For most, love is a sunshiny feeling, they are full of joy, newness, goddamned cotton candy clouds following them around for the rest of their lives. They know nothing of what train wreck love is like, for the few who have felt this way it is mostly when we, are in love alone. When we love those that will not love us back and until we can finally step off the track and let that train pass, we will never break away.
A couple of days ago a “guy” friend of mine that reads my blog but doesn’t blog himself, gave me some ideas for some future blog posts. He sat in front of me as we had lunch together and after he gave me his thoughts on my I’m Stressed blog post, he said this….
“You know I love your blog, your hilarious and you have a way with words but, maybe you could tone down the man-bashing”