Dec 11 2006


I will probably be putting up some pictures, but I don’t have any yet, and then they have to go through the rigorous screening process for web-post-ability. But I wore makeup this time, so I’m hoping that there will be something…

We had our company party on Saturday at this place. It was lovely. We stayed the night there, too, in one of these. Gorgeous. We brought in a babysitter and so we didn’t have to drive home and we didn’t have to be back at a certain time and I was almost a little drunk with the feeling of freedom. Or maybe it was the Manhattans. Yummy.

And we looked Goooood. I had on my favorite BCBG polka dot dress that John bought me for valentine’s day pre-baby. It still fit! That could have been enough to make the whole night good. I also had seam-up-the-back stockings and a garter belt (though I didn’t show that to anyone. I wasn’t THAT drunk. Plus, my DAD was there.). I’ve never worn a garter belt before. It was…different. I wore my really high, peek-toe shoes for the first time in a while and was only as drunk as I was (really, not very. I exaggerate. Usually.) to kill the pain in my poor, poor toes. They’re still a little numb. And I actually had my hair DOWN for once. Amazing!

Cole had a good time with the babysitter- his first ever (besides daycare). He took it really well and didn’t even cry when I left. He only cried when I thought someone else was watching him and he took a header off of the couch and smack-dab onto the edge of the coffee table. I know it was really a desperate plea for attention, though, and that it meant that he really didn’t want me to leave. I know it. The fact that he was happily playing seconds later means nothing.Nothing!

Cole, the babysitter, Spencer (his cousin), and twin 7-year-old girls were all there together. I was afraid that the older kids would run right over him so I asked the babysitter to please keep an extra close eye on him. Apparently, the girls were doing their usual “We want to play with the babydoll” (meaning Cole) routine which consists of picking him up, hauling him to another part of the room, getting bored, and dumping him on the ground, when Spencer actually stood up for his little cousin! The kid who usually is the one to torture him! You know why that makes me extra happy? Because, as you’ll know if you have siblings, it’s okay to beat up and be mean to your own sibling, but it is NOT okay if somebody else tries it. I believe this is more or less universal and I’m thrilled that Spencer realizes now that Cole is family and, therefore, worthy of this treatment.

So it was a wonderful night all around. Except, what “luxury” hotel doesn’t have at least one jacuzzi tub? Preferably they’d have one for each guest and enough hot water to fill them all simutaneously. And bubbles. And candles. And, while we’re at it, champagne. Dammit.

(And let us no longer speak of hot water as I did not get a hot shower this morning and John did. That is all.)

Dec 08 2006

No. Way.

Oh HELL no. No.No.No.No.No. That is so wrong. Scroll to the last on the list for the worst.


Dec 07 2006


(Or: Do not fuck with me or my money. Baby needs new shoes.)

Did I tell you all about the oven thing? The one where we’ve always cleaned our own damn oven by hand and didn’t know anything about “Self-Cleaning Ovens” and so had no clue in the world what the lever that said “LOCK” on it meant and so slid it to the lock position to keep out the inquisitive toddler and lost our dinner because we couldn’t get it open again and John tried his hardest to wiggle it open and, in the process, boke off the whole fucking “LOCK” handle? That one?

And then how the technician came out and pissed around for EXACTLY a half of an hour, which I know because I had to lose a day of work to be there and I was watching his every move because it was just me and a 1 year old in the house with him and I glanced at the (very accurate) clock on my microwave about a bazillion times because I just had a feeling that something would happen and I would have to know the time?

So, last night I got an invoice. For 120 FUCKING DOLLARS. FOR HALF AN HOUR. WITH NO PARTS. On the bottom of the invoice he had written “1:00-2:00, $80 an hour, 1 hour.”

Okay- lie already, but I took into consideration that maybe he has a minimum charge of one hour. I know we bill in minimums of 1/4 hour here, so I get that.

But then on the side it said “Service Charge =$80. Labor Charge =$40.”

Ummmm… Huh?

I called my property management company and said (though much more politely) “WTF?!”

She said “I see what you mean.”

She called the appliance place and spoke with the guy who just happens to be the bookkeeper and the new owner. He insisted that he had been there an hour, in fact- more than an hour, but he was a nice guy and wasn’t going to charge us for the rest.

When she told me I basically sais “Oh no. I don’t fucking think so.” and called the ass myself.

I actually threatened him. I told him that he has a shitty reputation in this (small) town and that he should think REALLY EXTRA hard about what this $40 was going to do to him. He said that he had to call the property manager and I said “You’ll never do business with me or my family again. And you’ve lost the property management’s business, which I ‘m sure was important to you. You do what you think you have to do, but just think about what that $40 is really worth to you.” I sounded awesome, but I was shaking so hard (I tend to get really wound up in confrontations).

I hung up.

I got a call a few minutes later. I noticed that the number was my property manager. I was still so shaken that I let it go through to voicemail.

She said “I’ve talked to the guy at the appliance place. Though he still won’t admit that he’s wrong, he is agreeing to drop the $40. Sorry for all the trouble!”

Victory is so sweet. The $80 still sucks, but I hardly even care any more. I won.

Never mind the 6 lost hours of work, the lost dinner, and my lost time fighting it. I fucking WON.

Dec 06 2006

The F**cking Candle Story

Seriously? Are you guys telling me that I totally forgot to tell you about the damn candles?

It’s not really that great of a story, but it has caused some impressive irritation in the people who have heard it.

We have a company party in December of each year. We cannot call it a “Christmas” or even a “Holiday” party because an employee, who is much-loved, is a Jehovah’s Witness and will not go if it is associated with anything “Holiday”-like. So we changed it to an “End-of-the-Year” party. Whatever. Silly semantics.

So last year the organizer bought red and green, 4-wick, pillar candles to use as part of the centerpiece at each table. Nobody noticed. Nobody complained. Everybody had a fantastic time. Wonderful!

This year, the regular organizer was feeling a bit overburdened with work and asked if I could help her by checking out WalMart for the candles. She asked for 9 of each color- red and green. No prob!

I went on a Saturday with my mom (the President’s wife, but really- please don’t jump to any conclusions that include the word “nepotism.” I got my job on my own, thank you very much) and Cole in tow. When she found out why I was buying 18 huge candles in red and green she just about threw a hissy.

Mom: “Why are you getting red and green? Those are Christmas colors! This is not a Christmas party! We cannot have anything Christmas! The colors are supposed to be blue and white! BLUE and WHITE!!

Me: “Uh…I’m really just doing as I was told. Besides, the candles were red and green last year and nobody complained.”

Mom:”Well, they’re supposed to be blue and white. I don’t know what [the organizer] is thinking. We CAN’T have red and green.”

Me: “What’s the big deal? They are just COLORS. And anyway- blue and white are Hanukkah colors. Isn’t that equally as offensive?”


I bought the goddamn red and green anyway because it doesn’t fucking matter and, like I said, it was what I had been told to do.

Two weeks later I got a phone call from the organizer saying that someone had complained and the President was asking us to take back the 18 fucking red and green candles and buy 18 fucking WHITE candles. I know it was my mom.

Back go the candles into my car. Back they go into WalMart (one of my least favorite places in the world, but damn are they cheap. These candles were only $4.88 EACH!). I had to wait in line to try to explain, go get 18 fucking white candles (I’m sorry- it’s the only way I can refer to them anymore) and wait in line again to exchange them. A fucking HOUR of my life wasted on PC bullshit. I believe in being respectful to other ways of thinking (I don’t have to agree, but I won’t necessarily be rude, either), but I don’t think you could call this anything but bullshit.

Since when do colors matter that much? Red and green are color compliments! They look pretty together! WHAT THE FUCK?!

And my mom? She isn’t even religious. We “celebrate” Christmas, but it’s really a celebration of family, not anything spiritual.

So anyway, that’s the story of the candles. Not that exciting, but, like I said, there’s something about it that really gets people riled up. Funny.

Dec 05 2006

My brain says “Thhhuuuupppppb.”

I want to write something. Really I do. But all I can think about is budgets and home repairs and retaining walls and grammergrammergrammer and waste water treatment plants and sewer and borings and test pits and mean bosses and mortgages and “christmas” vs “holiday” vs “end-of-year” parties and having to spend an hour exchanging red and green candles for white so no one will fucking be offended.

If you want to hear about any of that, let me know. For now, I won’t bore you.

Dec 05 2006

But who would I give it to?

Demotivators from Despair, Inc.

I have to figure out who would appreciate one of these calendars. I was shaking with laughter. It was hard to choose which one to put up- all seemed so appropriate. But, seeing as how I work with engineers…

Passive-agressive much?

Dec 01 2006

I’m SO mature.

Engineer in my office on the phone:

“No vibratory equipment, then.”

He said Vibratory. And Equipment.


Dec 01 2006

What am I doing?

Aw shucks. You folks are all just so gosh-darned nice about those photos. Especially when all I could think was “it sure would have been nice if I had had a chance to put on even a smudge of make-up. ” Seriously- I had nuthin’. No foundation, no powder, no eye junk, no lip stuff. Nuthin. I never wear it anymore and so I didn’t even have so much as a chapstick. Despite that, I am honestly pretty pleased with how they came out, especially since it could have looked like this:

(Lay off the pot and chocolate, woman!)(Actually, I’ve never smoked in my life, but…whatever.)
(I CAN NOT believe I just put that up. I really need to work on those masochistic tendencies. I’m really sorry for the pain I have caused.)

But you can see how a little spiffing up could have helped us not have to take three million pictures before one came out with my eyes all the way open and drool not coming out of the corner of my mouth.

I love photo editing software. It lets me cut myself out of pictures and keep my cute kid in.

Of course, cute?

Well… maybe that’s subjective. But there’s never any question that he comes from me!