Oh GR8 Pre-Date

Tomorrow is my big adventure by train for a first date in an eastern town... and I had been looking forward to it all week... until today. Even though I earlier weighed in a loss of four pounds for the week, I now bear the bloated burden of womanhood with a bonus case of moodiness.

Yesterday, I was the only person in the office until 10:00 a.m. Secretly, I was a little peeved because my co-workers didn't feel the need to report their delays and months ago I was reminded how important that was to do when I accidentally left a message on the wrong phone extension informing the staff of my own delay. You know, those rules that apply to you, but no one else that get on your last nerve. Anyway, after working all day, I went straight to Chester's so his wife, son and daughter in law could go to dinner, and immediately after that, I went to a city meeting to give a presentation for work. It was one long fucking day.

Of course, last night I slept poorly and when the alarm went off I was not thrilled. But, it was Friday, which meant I could get away with wearing jeans and a sweater, so I skipped all of the usual fuss and threw my hair into a ponytail. Morning routine time total: 20 minutes.

Continuing my crabbiness was morning traffic that included being stuck behind the I-don't-need-to-clean-snow-off-my-windows guy that weaves in and out of lanes blindly. After arriving at the office, I checked my email to see if a week long dispute over items I had ordered to have before my date weekend had been resolved, or even replied to. It hadn't.

Okay, now I am officially pissed off.

I spent over an hour, being transferred to and speaking with four different people, only to be put on the hold that really means you've been hung up on. I called back asking to speak with the person I was supposed to have been transferred to and again, the "please hold" oops-we-hung-up-on you thing.

Fucking pissed off.

Trying to defuse my anger, I attempted the old breathe deep thing while playing a song that usually makes me happy. I managed not to explode, however, the song did fail to bring me any short-term joy. Shortly thereafter, my co-worker attempted to resolve a similar three week long work-related situation. During her voicemail, she threatened to report them to the Better Business Bureau.

"You go girl!" I said excitedly. "Don't put up with that crap. What is it with businesses these days... in an economy like this?!"

"I know! It's bullshit!" she replied.

Simultaneously, we searched our computers for the Better Business Bureau site, gleefully hunting for complaint records. Finding comfort in our mutual misery, my spirits lifted. But I had so much work to do...

I managed to escape the office an hour early... which was an hour past my intended departure time. I was on the hunt for a date outfit (read jeans that actually fit), travel toothpaste, a good book to read on the train, and an overnight bag. On my way into a store, a man with his family smiled and nodded. As I went to say hello, I accidentally swallowed my gum!!

Finally! I'm smiling! Laughing! Who swallows gum at 38 years old?! I walked through the aisles giggling to myself as I noticed the minty taste at the back of my throat and thought about the bizarre (yet untrue) consequences parents tell you result from swallowing gum when you're a little kid.

For the most part, I found what I was looking for, and since the gum incident, I have been in a more pleasant mood. I did forget to stop at the library to get my book, but I'm going to my mom's to pluck one off her bookcase. Surely it will have that oddly pleasant "old book smell" and it's yellowed pages will add a touch of charm suitable to an afternoon train ride. I've started packing my bag and soon will paint my nails... beginning the tedious grooming rituals us women go through for our first dates.

I hope to sleep well, have a pleasant morning, and look smashing when I depart for the depot...

(to be continued...)

"And Then The Elephant Started To Tip Over..."

After work today, I went on mission "Perfect Christmas." A week ago, I had decided treating myself to a little Christmas decoration splurge was well-warranted. The last couple years had been a struggle, I hadn't treated myself to much at all, Christmas lights bring me a sense of peace, and, well, mom's got cancer and I'd like this Christmas to be special. My last stop was Hobby Lobby. I was wheeling my bright blue, strangely small cart stuffed with a small tree, a large wreath, garland, and ceramic Cardinal ornaments down the gift bag aisle when I head a loud thud followed by the sound of glass breaking. Another loud thud. More glass. Thud. Glass. Glass-thud-glass-glass-thud-thud-thud-GLASS!!!

Obviously something very bad had happened. And, obviously, many many things had broken. I knew this without moving my feet, or my little blue cart, from my shock-imposed position in the holiday department. I was afraid to look! A long stretch of silence implied that it just might be safe to peer around the corner and a little giggle snuck out of me when I thought of how much it would suck to be the person that took out $400 dollars worth of red and green trinkets imported from China.

"Oh my God! Are you okay mam?!" a frantic voice called out.

Okay. I had to look. It was my duty as a human... just in case they needed me to stop the bleeding, or, administer CPR or something... Thankfully, the woman who was impersonating the bull in the China shop was uninjured; but the same could not be said of an entire "end cap" display full of glass items and some giant cement-like animals that seemed to have nothing to do with Christmas.

After seeing a half-dozen people had come to her aid, complete with the store manager frantically zooming towards her with a wheelchair, I thought it best to leave the scene of the accident and get the hell out of there. As I headed to the check-out, I overheard her explain what had caused the mass destruction:

"I really liked this dog and I went to pick it up but it was too heavy. Then, the elephant started to tip over and I tried to catch it. I lost my balance and fell back into the shelves..."

It seems those damn elephants are everywhere!

Over the weekend, my mother's sister was unexpectedly in town. I had just left Chester's and was en route to retrieve my Saturday cheeseburger when I got the call that she was here. I didn't know if she knew and I didn't feel it was my place to tell her that mom has cancer again... so there was the elephant; right there in my cell phone.

My brother, mother, aunt and I went to dinner together. We spent two hours engaging in nonsensical conversation, covering topics such as: freakishly large fish caught in fresh water, clowns with lots of pockets, and childhood memories of vomit. Oh, and the usual "how ya been"s and "what are your plans for Thanksgiving." The elephant had come to dinner with us.

After dinner, my mother and brother got out of the car and went inside. I stood with the car door open about to ask what time my cousin was getting out of work and I saw the reflection of the elephant in my aunt's eyes. How is it that such a cumbersome beast can be so blasted sneaky?

A last minute decision led to a short trip out of town to visit my cousin and see his not-so-new place I hadn't visited yet. The nonsensical conversation resumed as my aunt and I travelled down the highway. But when she pulled into the parking space, she didn't turn off the car. She started telling a story. No wait, she was repeating a conversation she had recently. The elephant. It was right there on the console.

She told me she knew. I asked her if my cousin knew. Then we went into his apartment. Shockingly, more nonsensical conversation transpired. The elephant was back and I was left wondering if the travelling circus could use another performer. My cousin flipped through television channels, my aunt showed pictures of her grandchildren...

I couldn't stand it anymore.

"I know you know. It's okay to talk about it."

"About what? The giant elephant in the room?!" He replied.

The Truth Shall Set You Free

As I grow older (and hopefully wiser), I can't help finding cliches a little funny. What a timeless testament of the stubborn state of mind we have in our younger days. Cliches used to annoy me! I found them to be a thoughtless, cheesy way to trick people into thinking things weren't as bad as they seemed.

And now? Now I realize why these statements have withstood the test of time... they're true! I also realize that my acceptance of their validity, combined with my need to profess such validity, makes me a genuine "old person!" For years I have made the following declaration: "You know you're 'old' when you find yourself giving someone else the very same advice you didn't listen to when you were young."

What provoked this blog is that I stumbled across "evidence" that my ex is indeed seeing the woman that his friend's girlfriend felt compelled to tell me about. (It's also raining, which means I can't paint my house and have nothing better to do at the moment.) Not lacking in intelligence, it was obvious to me that I had been traded in; just as the girl he had dated before me, and the girl before her. He was a serial dater. An eager to commit, yet afraid of commitment guy. A mess, you could say, and none of that bothered me a bit. What I found irritating, and, quite frankly, sad, is that at 41 years old, this guy just couldn't admit it.

Far from perfect, I'm a very understanding person. Things change. People change. People want different things. People don't know what they want... and on and on it goes. But why do people confine themselves to tangled webs of untruth? Did he really believe I didn't know? Did he actually believe that the little stories he concocted would somehow transform reality and change the facts? He could have saved himself two weeks of excuses and months of awkward hellos in the hallways if he had just simply told the truth. But considering he did the same exact thing to the two women he dated before me, I suspect he finds some type of unhealthy reward in the drama that results from his overlapping of women. In fact, his "m.o." with me v.s. the girl before me, was almost exactly replicated in the me v.s. the girl after. His wooing is practically scripted, and creepily repetitive.

Regardless of my discovery of who he (un) truly was, our life goals were so very different that a long-term relationship had little chance to be successful. It was fun when it was what he told me it was, what I thought it was. And if he had had the courage to tell me the truth when he should have, I may have still had fond, untainted, memories of him.

I won't say that I have never bended, twisted, manipulated, or recreated the truth in my own life. My confused late teens and early twenties seemed to demand that you do so. I'm not really sure when this revelation occurred; when I discovered that the truth was the quickest end to most any situation. But since that discovery, it is a very rare occurrence for me to deviate from the instant escape that honesty provides.

The truth. It really does set you free. It sets you free of those internal expectations to be super-human... perfect. Speaking the truth means you have peace of mind, courage, and respect; that you may have even... made a mistake. (GASP!) Truth is the one-stop, direct way to resolution, a kind of conversation convenience store; whereas lies require a never-ending creation of cover-ups and fear of exposure. Not only is telling the truth the "right" thing to do, the reward is instantaneous... which means our American instant-gratification-seeking nature should embrace truth. Masses of people should be crowding the city streets shouting:

"I cheated on my SATs!"

"I only married my husband because I was afraid of being alone!"

"Homeless people mean nothing to me, I just like the attention I get when it looks like I care about them!"

"My socks haven't been washed in three days!"

"This isn't really my hair, it's a toupe!"

Okay, maybe mass public confessionals would be a little disturbing. However, I think a little more truth in everyone's lives would truly be...

liberating.

Curiosity Killed the...

A dear, dear friend of 20 years and I have managed to sporadically keep in touch while she has been living a few hundred miles away. Just as I have, she endured the sudden shit-out-of-luckness that results from sudden job loss; and a few comically failed relationships. Although I always know where our friendship stands, sometimes, I have no blasted idea how she is doing, as she tends to "disappear" for months at a time.

True to form, I haven't heard from her in about four weeks.

Early this evening, I surprisingly found an email from her in my inbox. It read:

"Hey you. Will be in touch this week. Been crazy this way. Going to be moving out of my roomates...I had a bad accident with her stove. Didn't go over to well.

Love and thinking of ya."

"I HAD A BAD ACCIDENT WITH HER STOVE?!" That has to be the most hilariously intriguing sentence I have read in my entire life! My mind is whirling with visions! What kind of "accident" does one have with a stove that leads to an apparent eviction? I'm guessing it's much more serious than the time we were too drunk to realize we had put the frozen pizza and the cardboard in my oven in a desperate attempt to satisfy our late night hunger ten years ago. Hell, there wasn't even enough smoke to set off the detector. Couldn't be pizza rolls left at 450 degrees for eight hours. My friend Wendy did that once. Not only did she live to tell about it, she didn't get kicked out of the house she shared with Sara.

I'm dying to know! The curiosity is killing me! And knowing it could be weeks, MONTHS, before I hear the end of this brain-baffling tale is simply torture!

What You Bargained For...

I used to date this guy who said, amongst many other things, that he'd help me paint my house.

Well he's not around anymore (Mr. "Nice" Guy), and I've been doing the majority of the scraping, sanding, taping, priming; and painting by myself. My back is killing me, and no matter how many hours I work, no matter how many nights I paint in the dark under dim light from the street... it's just never done! My liver is about to fail from overdosing on ibuprofen so I can sleep at night. My once pink toenail polish is now dotted with three different colors of paint. There is paint in my hair and paint on my skin. I have more ladders outside then you would find in a hardware store. There is a sliver in my palm. I feared for my life as I was about 25 feet off the ground on a shaky extension ladder... praying someone would call 9-1-1 if I plummeted to my death. Hoping they would also clean the blood splatters off before my paint job was ruined!

Now I don't feel so bad for letting him get in my pants. His offer to help was a pretty powerful negotiating tool. This is some seriously hard work! However, since he didn't come through on his end of the "bargain," I think I'm going to sue.

All Ya Gotta Do Is Ask!

Due to my "last minute" withdrawal from my full-time job, I hadn't written a schedule at the part-time job for the current week. For about 45 minutes, I laid in bed this morning and strongly considered taking the day off. No one was expecting me! I could have easily gotten away with it; but, I soon realized that if I'm going to make this whole life path vs. reality thing happen, I'd best get the hell out of bed!

Because I spent my morning work out time, and the majority of my regular routine, in the lazy comfort of my cozy bed... I had no time for breakfast. My punishment. Off the door I went, with my coffee-for-breakfast thermal mug... and my stomach already growling. Where's a damn butler when you need one?

As soon as I got in the office, I checked my email. A guy that I dated some 17 years ago works in an office across the hall from mine, and since discovering our close proximity, we exchange non-productive, smart ass emails throughout the work day. I read his email from Friday afternoon, and replied:

"Hope you woke up in time to make it home from your boring meeting. Hey, do you guys have any food over there? I'm hungry!"

After sending my email, I walked down the hall to the copy room. Someone had performed some serious voodoo on both machines, and neither myself or the other in-need-of-copies guy there could figure out what the problem was... so I went right back to the office to wait out the evil "spell." When I got back in... I found a dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts on my desk and a perplexed co-worker, laughing about the random appearance of sinful, sugary doughnuts on my

desk.

"Who are you?! GOD?" I emailed back. "How the hell do you get doughnuts that fast?!" I inquired in astonishment.

"Some vendors brought in 2 boxes this morning and we are all on diets. Well except for me, I ate two." He responded.

"Dudes on diets? What, is there some kind of Speedo Convention coming to town?" I jeered.

"No. We're just a bunch of narcissistic geeks..."

Hilarious! Our staff consists of 6 women, five of which are on diets. Who's the one that isn't? Um. That would be me! Their office staff consists of 5 guys. I didn't realized that guys actually dieted... and admitted it, to women nonetheless.

Something I have learned on my life journey over the past few years is to ask for what you need. Now I can readily admit that I wasn't going to die without those doughnuts being graciously delivered to my desk, but it sure was an unexpected treat! Not only was I hungry, I had been secretly craving doughnuts for days! Who'd have thought that your needs could be met so easily? I think tomorrow I'll ask if they have any money...

Baggage of the Working Woman

Ah... the baggage of a working woman. I forgot how literally heavy the burden of working multiple jobs can be. My briefcase was bursting at the seams! Each zippered pocket was unzipped to allow for the accommodation of multiple binders, planners, folders, notebooks... none of which fell out on my semi-clumsy journey from the office to the car; toting this giant bag, and a large cardboard sign that caught the blustering wind like the sail of a boat!

My morning began with travelling through a rock storm. I was stuck behind a semi hauling two bulldozers on the highway. Just as the traffic broke enough to let me escape into the other lane...WHACK! Rock to the windshield! Yes, my windshield now bears a lovely, permanent, circular wound... and I have PLPD insurance. Good Morning, me.

The first job I reported to today was my almost-for-sure full-time job. There just wasn't much for me to do! I searched high and low; solicited chores and tasks. I fetched a cup of coffee for my cubicle neighbor, even though she swore she was kidding when I asked if I could get her one. I wasn't! The last thing I want to do in this economy is look dispensable. If they decide to cut the position I currently hold, at least they might keep me on as a coffee bar attendant.The Director I report to has been in meetings virtually every hour that I have been on the premises thus far, so we have yet to really work together; although last Friday's past seven o'clock at night coup had to have earned me some retention points. I have my first eight-straight shift there tomorrow, so I hope to be assigned something more important than volunteer inter-cubicle waitressing.

I only had the half an hour in between jobs to eat my lunch. The length of my commute. I was forced to either starve, or, eat McDonald's. I decided a Quarter Pounder with cheese and a refreshing Diet Coke sounded more enjoyable than the growling of my stomach would, so I got off on an exit midway and ordered my clogged-artery-in-a-box. There is just something so demeaning about eating a fast food burger while driving down the highway. Even though that was all I ate, I still felt gluttonous, and wondered who saw me dodging the ketchup-covered onions that kept falling out of the bottom of my burger.

Once I arrived in the parking lot at my other job, I had the daunting task of hauling my giant job-juggling bag of tricks into yet another office, without incident. Too bad when I reached for my hardly-sipped-on-soda, the shoulder strap of my big bag caught on some kind of door apparatus...

SPLOOOOOOSH!!! There goes my soda. Good Afternoon, me.

Aside from a weird visit from a man who had missed his appointment with Denise by over an hour and a half, and showed up while I was alone in the office, then asked me to make a hundred copies of papers he was about to pilfer from another project (while the phone was ringing and I was on another call)... I escaped my last five hours of work without tragedy. Next stop: grocery store.

I've got quite a list of items that I truly need, but the stores with the best prices are on the completely opposite side of town. I hate needless driving. That's probably why I only have 79,000 miles on a car I've had ten years. But there were some things I had to get, so I compromised by only buying the absolutely positively necessary things at the local, yet higher priced store. I was saving gas, saving the environment, and saving my tired little toes from traipsing around the gigantic store. Smart move!

Or not.

I forgot to pick up toilet paper. I have not even a square! Here's hoping my day doesn't get any shittier! (insert drum sound used after bad joke here) Looks like those leftover Christmas print paper napkins will come in handy after all.

My laundry is caught up, but my house is in a state I refer to as "scatteredaboutness." I've been quickly reminded of why I hate nylons. My friends and family haven't quite figured out why I'm suddenly not available, despite my repeated three-job testimony...and I find my eyes begin to close themselves after 8 p.m. Rock chip, bulging bags, spilled soda, smelly feet, shutting eyes... all worth it, I say. It's all about the baggage. What you choose to carry with you. And I'm willing to let it all go for a coupla paychecks, and whole lotta hope for the future.

Double Duty: Day 1

I successfully survived day 1 at Job 2, despite somehow mismanaging my bedroom alarm clock and cell phone alarm... waking up 40 minutes later than planned! NOT a great way to begin your first-day-on-the-job morning! I did have enough time to dress and shower... even to make a cup of my terrible, but cheap, coffee to drink on the panicked drive in. The morning air was warmer than usual, but not warm enough to drive with the window down. However, I had no choice, considering my driver's side window decided to get off track Sunday afternoon, leaving me to fret over when/how I could fix it before the rains came!

I arrived 10 minutes early, and 12 minutes before my predecessor. Shew! The day was mildly chaotic. Myself, two other first-dayers, and my predecessor/trainer, ran through the cubicles pilfering the necessary parts to assemble a functioning telephone and computer system. I now have ANOTHER desk, phone extension, ID badge and email account. Concrete proof that I do in fact have two jobs... at least for the moment.

Unfortunately, my ploy to finagle a four-day work week, allowing a solid day at the other job, was unsuccessful. SHIT! Plan B. I hadn't a plan B, but I quickly concocted one! My other job's offices are housed in a larger business' building so I don't think I can truly come and go as I please with my key card, but I believe I may be able to get in as early as 7a.m. When I was first hired, working at home was offered as an option... soooooooooooooooo... Plan B consists of reporting to Job 1 on Mondays and Wednesdays for an hour to sort through necessary assignments, report to Job 2 for my 9a.m.-5:30p.m. workday... work on Job 1 stuff when I get home for a bit... rinse and repeat. Okay... skip the rinsing, but you get the gist of it. I REFUSE to let go of that job. Not yet. They have been good to me, and I know they need the help right now. I will be able to honor my scheduled commitments for the next two weeks for sure, but I'd like to keep my toe in the door just in case I need to, and because I actually want to. I'll get to see how all of this goes when I break the news tomorrow morning...

After my three hours in at Job 2... I raced home and quickly changed from Betty Business to Sara Ceramics, and was back on the road before my engine even quit moving. I was frantically staining and glazing several bisque-fired pieces and sharing the "I may never see you again... at least not for awhile" news with my dear "dirt" buddies. I may be able to continue my ceramic adventures, but I would have to switch to the night session, and make new "friends." Frankly, I adore the ones I craft clay with now, so it's bittersweet.

Once the glazing frenzy ended, I raced off to my Mr. Fixit friend's house, where he dissassembled my car door panel and readjusted my wayward window. We also did a few other minor repairs, so my "little tin soldier" looks a tiny bit better. She's a ten year old car, with only 79,000 miles on her... but she's been in the wrong place at the wrong time and taken a few uninsured beatings along the way. But, she's paid for! If things go well in the job department, I just might treat her to a makeover, as I have NO intention of taking on a car payment anytime soon. I should be able to drive that ol' girl around for at least another 5 years. Gotta love a Honda!

Upon arriving home, the sunshine and warm air demanded that I clean out the garage, caring not that I had ZERO caloric intake for the day thus far. I had no time to eat! So while the oven was preheating to cook some cheap -and -easy -chicken, I swiftly organized some tools and supplies, making my exits and entrances a heck of a lot less dangerous! I won't have to worry about removing a stack of Styrofoam cups from the "spear" of my high heel as I rush out the door, ever again! (Don't ask.)

Now, it's nearing 10 p.m. I am going to select tomorrow's wardrobe, just in case I encounter another alarm clock debacle... and hopefully get some REST! I tossed and turned last night while trying to literally figure out my financial future with my cell phone calculator at 1 in the morning. But soon... soon I feel the stress and anxiety of bills and never-ending job hunting will come to a lull. The light is finally on at the end of the tunnel; and I can finally afford to pay the bill!

FAT Tuesday!

It's Fat Tuesday. Day of the Packzi, mysteriously pronounced poonch-key. A glorious day at Mardi Gras in New Orleans, but a mere excuse to eat fruit-filled, fattening sugary treats here in the Midwest. I had already consumed 6 blueberry and powdered sugar packzis my mother bought me last week; and I was left wondering exactly which Tuesday it was that I was supposed to be celebrating with these seasonal fancy doughnuts... last Thursday. I couldn't remember which day was officially "fat," but I sure felt fat every day that I ate one of these delicious pastries.

I had a comical day on the job. I dressed to impress; wearing my new pants, shoes, and cardigan, only to find that half the staff, including the director I am assisting, were out of the office. An hour into the work day, a co-worker, who was in the middle of a big print job for the director, got a call from her son's school to pick him up because he was running a fever. She brought her urgent project to my desk, and asked me to complete it for her. I was fairly excited to be her "pinch hitter," considering she is the least outgoing in the office. I'm assuming this is because she's busy pinch-hitting for everyone else. My task was to customize and print about 50 award certificates for an educational program the director is conducting in the local schools. Easy enough.

Or not.

I had never in my life worked with this type of printer, and somehow I managed to immediately find the paper tray to load the card stock I needed to use. I was feeling pretty confident. I marched back to my desk, hit the print button, and gleefully awaited the emergence of my first completed color certificate from the printer. But, suddenly, there were very strange noises travelling across the office...

Paper jam.

The only other co-worker in the office was very busy. She handles a monumentous amount of work daily, but she also had payroll to complete today. I did not want to bother her... but I could not let the ball drop simply because I was too shy and embarrassed to ask for help. I was praying that my running joke with the maintenance man, "Everything is broken. EVERYTHING," hadn't become my reality today. I opened every openable compartment. Pulled out a piece of mangled card stock, and quietly returned to my desk to resume printing.

Paper jam (still).

Are you flippin' kidding me?

I was forced to ask Danielle to assist me. And after we wrassled paper, pushed every button, open and closed trays, powered down, and powered up the printer... and tried to print two more times; she concluded that the weight of the paper made it necessary to load in another tray. She was actually quite kind about the situation, and declared her own detest for the printer, which I forgot to mention sits upon a tall filing cabinet, making it necessary for me to stand on my tip-toes just to read the display. After the printer problem was solved, finishing the project, my first pinch hit, was an out of the park home run. Done. Yes. Thank you.

Next task: rewriting my public appointment calendar. This is my first time working with Microsoft Outlook, the program we use to track our working calendars... a critical need, considering my in and out of office hours vary according to which project I am working on, and I'm part-time. I thought I completed this task Friday. In fact, I was very proud of myself for figuring out how to not only schedule my regular hours and appointments, but also recurring appointments. I was feeling s-m-a-r-t. Too bad I clicked the wrong button. I made a schedule alright, but it was only for my own eyes to see, on my own computer. Not feeling so smart now.

The next thing on my growing longer by the minute to do list, was sending a fax to a local high school principal. Fair enough. I can do this. Danielle was working feverishly, while speaking with the CEO, as the fax machine started screaming, "You MUST dial a one when calling this number," over and over. WHERE IS THE CANCEL BUTTON!!!! My eyes were racing across the machine front, couldn't I please find this damn cancel button before I have to DIE from embarrassment?!

"Do you need some help over there, Mona?" Danielle asked in a sympathetic tone.

"No. (Laughing) I finally found the cancel button." I replied. There is a certain area code in this state that some jackass decided would randomly require dialing a "1." Everytime I have tried to guess "to dial, or not to dial," I have been wrong. My previous job required a lot of dialing to this particular area code, so I grew to expect the frustration... I just don't particularly enjoy it.

Carol had also asked me to contact a publishing company again to write up another quote for a potential pamphlet order. This is very time sensitive because the pricing deal ends on Friday, and the project runs full-force in March. Carol was out of the office today. It's imperative that I complete any and all projects thrown my way if I'm going to successfully negotiate a permanent position in April, when my temporary assignment ends. This is why I'm feeling so much pressure! Not only is this the first job I've managed to land in 10 months, the pay, and the people are great, and it's a non-profit organization. My dream job. If I'm going to make this dream come true... I've got to shine, not make the printer jam and the fax machine scream! Unfortunately, the representative we have been working with did not respond to my email or voice mail while I was in the office.

A few other snafus I forgot to mention... sending out a mass email in Outlook, only to discover it uses semi-colons, not commas to seperate email addresses. Also, I incorrectly transferred a call to the CEO. It rang her desk, then went on hold. Danielle had to help me with that too. I also spent the majority of my day with my own phone set to forward calls to voice mail. Luckily, I only had one in office call, so I was only embarrassed by this one time.

In my defense, there has beenabsolutely no training provided, and the staff, including the CEO, make sincere light of this fact and have shared their own stories of office equipment bloopers. In fact, the two directors both confess to being unable to properly transfer calls, so I shouldn't feel that intellectually incompetent. But as I said, the pressure is immense for me, because not only do I want to keep this job, I NEED to keep this job. I literally can't afford to go another ten months without work. I'm not feeling this heat from anyone at work. It's my own private hell. The one I've resided in alone these past ten months. I've decided to put my faith into this position becoming permanent, and scale back my job search until my end of assignment April assessment with the organization. I don't expect to be offered full-time, but if I could convince them to allow me even 20 hours a week, I could survive until a permanent full-time opportunity with them arose. Considering the permanent part-time worker is not returning from her leave, there should be a legitimate opportunity for a permanent position.

My day concluded with an over-the-phone interview for an upcoming community project. The woman I was interviewing was "having one of those days too," so we shared a laugh about it. Completing an interview gave me a true feeling of success. One of my tasks is to help them reach their 100 interviews goal. They had 40 when I started, and today's interview was my second, so there are 58 more to go. I'd love to be able to finish all 58... again, to prove my worth, but I'm not so sure that is a real possibility, considering a new task gets brought to my desk a couple times a day.

So... to celebrate making it out of the office without a fatal paper cut, critical missed call, or destroying an expensive printer, I decided to pick up more packzis when I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. This time, cherry-filled and glazed. I was obligated to celebrate "Fat Tuesday," wasn't I? Okay... so maybe I was just seeking comfort from some tasty doughnuts. But, I enjoyed my "celebration," twice. Before, and after, a very satisfying nap.

This is Your Brain on Unemployment...

I thought I would stick to this morning's apparent theme, and share a photograph of my brain on unemployment. Okay, so it's really my breakfast, but it serves a dual purpose today. My brain, the egg, as you can see, has been broken apart, and partially demolished. However, the toast, my future, let's say, remains untouched... yet very near my mangled brain. I've literally chosen to consume my brain, rather than taste my future.

Yes, I have problems.

Anyway... I've decided to remain awake for as long as I can today. I've managed to get in a 30 minute workout. I think it is my first one for the entire month of December. Unfortunately, I do not have a "Big Brother" type surveillance system installed in my house, so you are unable to laugh uncontrollably when I attempt aerobic exercise. My 20 pound fluff-ball Maine Coon cat rather enjoys it when his "mommy" goes crazy and runs around the house. To add resistance, I toss him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, as I walk, or jog, in circles, through the living room, kitchen, and dining room. All the while, he purrs and squeals. Apparently, it wore him out, because he's currently sleeping in the slumped couch cushion that has become concave from his mild obesity.

After my feline-friendly workout, I started making breakfast, and attempted to break through the auto-mated unemployment system on the phone. When my misfortune first began, eight months ago, I could get right through. Today, it took at least twenty tries, and 45 minutes to connect successfully! I began a slight freak-out, wondering if I would connect before my 9 a.m. cutoff time. If that were the case, I would have had to wait until Thursday to call, and Monday to receive my check... potentially making my house payment late. They assign call times according to the last two digits of your social security number. Is my group growing too large for the allotted hour? There is a definite correlation between the increase in unemployment and the ability to access the system. I sense a total collapse, or, at least, reorganization of the system in the future.

While in the kitchen, my Northern male Hairy Woodpecker had settled onto the suet feeder for his own breakfast. I tried, once again, to snap a photo of him, but he flew off. Next comes the seemingly chubby Blue Jay. He escapes without a photograph as well! What is it with these birds? Don't they not know how desperately I need something to do? They must have quite keen eyesight, as they instantly detect my camera-wielding presence on the other side of the window.

That reminds me of a funny tale...

I was on the phone with my friend, Tonya, on the afternoon of the 23rd. I was telling her how I hadn't seen the birds at the feeder lately, and that the damn things won't let me take their picture.

"Mona. Birds fly south for the winter!"

Hilarious! She really didn't know that some species of birds remain local for the winter season. Not surprising, coming from her. She's not much of a nature girl. In fact, the only thing "natural" about her is... is... umm... her desire to eat? Huh. Complete loss, I am at one. It makes me wonder if she is truly that oblivious to anything that doesn't involve cell phones and shopping. As I explained to her that birds, such as my Woodpeckers, Blue Jays, and Cardinals, will remain local as long as there is a constant food source, she replied, "You really need to write a book."

Sure. About birds?


An interesting fact I learned Saturday night, while playing "Malarkey" with some professional bullshitter friends of mine: Woodpeckers do not get headaches from all that pecking because their beaks are not attached to their skulls. Now if any of you win money on "Jeopardy" because you learned this from reading my blog... I will demand 20% of your total winnings.

Today, I made a conscious choice. The choice to be civilized and eat my breakfast at my rarely-used dining room table. I'm not going to lie... I initially headed right for the couch, but the coffee table is a little cluttered from yesterday's lazy-fest. It was when I looked at the stack of Christmas cookie containers, and pair of empty Diet Coke cans, that my brain suggested I sit at the table.

Does anyone sit at the dining table to dine anymore?

My old boss at an electronics retailer decided that families not sitting at the dinner table anymore had contributed to our society's decline. I tend to believe that a bit. Growing up, we rarely sat at a table to eat. My mother even bought a fancy-shmancy oak dining set when the house had been remodelled, and I think we ate at it twice. (Look how I turned out!) The table now only serves as a support system for a bunch of dusty junk, and is unlikely to be used, as intended, ever again. I, on the other hand, have a dining room table that is meal-friendly. It is clean, and clutter free, yet, for some reason, when I eat, I mindlessly head for the couch, and my rump frumps into the cushion.

I'm actually so interested to know if people sit at their tables anymore, that I am going to post a poll... Let me know, HONESTLY, where you consume your meals most often.

The Haunting

Due to the fact that I, myself, often question my own level of sanity, I have been hesitant to share a bizarre story with you...

I'm being haunted by coffee!

Yes, coffee.

The distinct smell of coffee, one of my absolute favorite simple pleasures, teases my olfactory senses randomly. It happened again today! In fact, I can smell coffee right now!

What is so bizarre about that, you ask?

I haven't made coffee since Christmas morning. The smell was so strong and clear earlier this afternoon, that I actually wondered who was in my house making coffee. Has the "boogey man" broken in and helped himself to a steaming cup of dark roast? And if he has, why hasn't he delivered a cup to my nightstand? Is he not aware that the gravitational forces between my ass and my mattress are so strong that I have been unable to get out of bed today?

This strange phenomenon has occurred sporadically for several months. Despite my secret fascination with dork-friendly shows such as "Ghost Hunters" or "Paranormal State," I have yet to find a plausible explanation for this caffinated craze.

If I recall correctly, this "haunting" only occurs when I am in bed. My bedroom is near the kitchen, and the coffee pot is approximately 25 feet away from my perch. However, as I said earlier, I haven't actually brewed coffee in three days. I don't notice any smell of coffee when I am in the kitchen, the coffee ground containers are sealed, and my coffee pot is clean.

Is this some sort of devine intervention? A "wake (the fuck) up call?"

That's Hot?

"Unemployment" has made AOL's "Hot Searches" list.

I'm hear to tell you that there is nothing hot about unemployment! Scarlett Johansson also made the list. I'm not into chicks, but I'm sure the guys would argue that "hot" more accurately describes Ms. Scarlett.

I guess if you try to justify the hotness of unemployment, you might argue that you get hot walking the snow covered streets looking for a job because you can't afford to drive your car. Or, you might get hot from the frustration of sending out resumes, or searching for jobs that don't exist. Your feet might get hot, in the middle of the night, from the wool socks you are wearing because you can't afford to turn the heat up. And, I guess the same could be true for your hands and head. Sleeping in a hat and gloves is also likely to cause some late-night hotness.

So there ya have it. Not only has unemployment ruined my future plans, it has also ruined my argument that there is nothing hot about it. Shit!

Maybe I should stick to Scrabble. That's hot!

Most Popular, Budget Friendly Gift Guys Give Their Ladies

Hey. Times are tough!

http://jp.youtube.com/watch?v=FgXvR97Wk6g

Adequate box: free
Wrapping paper and bow: $3.50
Getting "bitch-slapped" : priceless!

12-Step Program for the American Economy?

The first step to recovery is admitting there is a problem.

Today's news finally states that, yes, our economy is in a recession. In fact, it has now been admitted that we have been in this recession for over a year now.

No Shit?

Okay. So it's time for rehab, Mr. American Economy. You'll be needing a sponsor. Let me recommend Warren Buffet...

Mr. American Economy, you have admitted that you were powerless over money, and that your spending had become unmanageable. Congratulations. Step one of your program has been successfully completed.

Let's get to step two. "Came to believe that a Power greater than yourself, Mr. American Economy, could restore you to sanity." Looks like you have a few choices for that "power" here: bailouts, criminal charges, soaring unemployment rates, borrowing from the lead-ridden country of China, or plead with your sponsor, Warren Buffet.

Step Three: "Made a decision to turn your will and your life over to the care of God as you understood him." Oh, I'm sure you're praying... hell, you've been on your knees for awhile!

Step Four: "Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourself." I suggest you take your time with this one, Mr. American Economy. Admitting you are a sodomist and have been stickin' it to the asses of innocent Americans, isn't going to make you a popular guy.

Step Five: "Admitted to God, yourself, and to another human being the exact nature of your wrongs." Do we have time for this?Step Six: "Were entirely ready to have God remove all of these defects of character." I'm not sure that you are ready for this removal, Mr. American Economy, however, since down-sizing appears to be trendy, and you've removed just about everything else, including the American public's dignity... why not just go with it?

Step Seven: "Humbly asked him to remove your shortcomings." What's that up to now? About $975 bazillion trillion?

Step Eight: "Made a list of all persons you had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all." Might sound like quite a task, but this basically means the entire world population. You can start with me, and a check for $100,000...

Step Nine: "Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others." Trust me, I won't be injured by that check for $100,000; and if you can't come up with it, give me Sarah Palin's campaign wardrobe and I'll hock the shit on Ebay.

Step Ten: "Continued to take personal inventory and when you were wrong promptly admitted it." Uh... I'd focus on the prompt part, there is no "inventory" left.

Step Eleven: "Sought through prayer and meditation to improve your conscious contact with God as you understood him, praying only for knowledge of His will for you and the power to carry that out." I'm pretty sure He doesn't want you to keep screwin' millions of people, so don't overthink it, Mr. American Economy.

Step Twelve: "Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, you tried to carry this message to failing economies, and to practice these principles in all of your affairs." Well... surely we've all seen the light, thankfully, right before the electricity gets cut off.

Best of luck to you in your recovery, Mr. American Economy... unfortunately, I have a feeling this is going to take a lot more than 28 days.

A Griswold Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is a time for good food, friends and family. A time for giving thanks. I shared the day with grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and my brother in the peaceful country setting of my grandparent's home; until...

Moments after everyone had gathered in the dining room, shutgun blasts were echoing in the background. In the city, this may have been alarming, however, out in the serenity of the countryside, we all chalked it up to holiday hunting or target practice. As the boom of the gun fire continued, the giggles turned to "Geees"s and "That sounds kind of close!"

My grandparents then engaged in their typical turkey-slicing tiff. "Where is the spoon?!" The gravy spoon was missing and causing quite a stir. Apparently, it had submerged itself in the hot gravy. As grandpa tried to fish it out, his paper-towel potholder caught fire!!! With each panicked attempt to extinguish it, the flames became more intense. Okay, so we'll call the cops and the fire department!

After the smoke and excitement settled, we all sat down to enjoy our feast. As I opened my napkin, something rather large and alien like was scurrying about inside of my napkin.

"Oh my God!" I shrieked.

In light of the gunshots and potential four-alarm fire, forks dropped and attention fell upon my hornet in the napkin. Grandpa came to the rescue and the hornet went to meet Jesus after meeting the bottom of his shoe. Bugs don't alarm me, in fact, I wouldn't have killed him. I just hadn't expected my extra guest to be crawling about in my napkin!

Once our bellies were full, we all dispersed throughout the house for coffee and conversation. My cousin was giving my grandmother cell phone lessons so she would be able to actually call for help, which was the intention of her purchase. Someone had recently broken into my grandfather's garage and stolen some of his tools. All was quiet and then...

Lindsey's 3 month old Jack Russell pup engaged in a chase with my grandparents seriously chubby and wrecking-ball-bodied boxer, who was also chasing the crazy cat. As the fur covered frenzy escalated, I suddenly saw panic-filled green cat eyes flying directly at my face! I'm going to lose my eyeballs!

Gasps and "Oh my Gods" again filled the house. What the hell was going on here?!?! Grandma keeps a very tidy, and controlled house. It is filled with antiques and Better Homes and Gardens charm. Her yard was featured in the Garden Tour. Am I in the right house? Have I accidentally sat down to dinner with the Griswolds?

And for the grand finale, when relatives began their goodbyes, and wrapped up leftover treats for midnight snacks...

"LINDSEY!!!" Uh-oh, Grandmother sounds mad. "Come get in here and clean this up. That damn dog has pooped on my carpet! That little shit."

After all of the excitement dissipated, we shared a few good laughs. Despite our Thanksgiving being a little non-conventional, it was definitely one I will always remember.

PAY PER VIEW!!!

Oh my God!

I was in my one-size-fits-all-but-doesn't-fit-me lime green robe, grey knee-length wool socks, khaki towel-turban on my freshly showered head, face covered in Noxema, and...

KNOCK! KNOCK!

What? It's 9:45 a.m. I'm only expecting the cable guy... and he's not due until sometime between 10 a.m. and noon.

I get a glimpse of my visitor through the leaded glass; and he's HOT! Surely I'm just going into some type of face cream induced hallucination. As I open the door, mortified, washcloth in hand, I see the "Comcast" badge. It IS my cable guy. And he is H-O-T!

I couldn't have dreamed this more perfectly. A twenty-something, dark-haired, well-built, young man, with soft, supple, kissable skin... and dark dreamy eyes. Lovely white teeth and a devilish, yet boyish, grin.

I managed to sneak some clothes on, dry and flat iron my hair, and add a few cosmetic fixer-uppers before Captain Cable Cutiepants got down from the garage roof. I'm not trying to seduce him, I swear! I'll just be damned if I'm going to sit around in a gigantic green robe and unflattering wool socks while a hot young man is in my lair!

I will confess to wanting to snap a picture of him... partially for my viewing pleasure, but mainly because not a soul would believe this unless they saw it. I still don't believe it. To add to the shear oddity of the situation, I have my Sirius radio tuned to the "Chill" channel, and a remix of the Pet Shop Boys "We All Feel Better In The Dark," complete with climactic moaning, is playing...


I'm wondering if it would be inappropriate to say things like:

"The woman on the phone told me my box was not responding... what do you think?" (As I drop my pants...)

Or,

"What can you tell me about this Pay-per-view stuff? How much do I pay, and what can I view?"

Or,

"Why don't we see if 69 is working?"

Okay... okay. I'm only kidding... kind of.

I'm gonna get back to my "show!"

Joys of Job Hunting

I'm still in the midst of my exhausting job search. I've lost track of how many positions I have actually applied for, but my estimated guess is 160. I applied for five positions this week, and updated my resume and cover letter with Kraft Foods. Their site offers a "Job Shopper" feature to alert you when jobs that fit your criteria become available.

Job Shopper sent me a message!

I open it.

It reads...

"Dear Mona,

Thank you for using Kraft's Personal Job Shopper service. We have matched up the following positions with your job search criteria:

Sorry, No jobs were found based on your Personal Job Shopper settings. "


Hilarious.

What's the point of that?

I also scheduled a meeting with the unemployment office on Wednesday. Leaving no stone unturned, I figured it couldn't hurt!

"It's just soooo slow. We aren't getting anything (job postings). I was hoping that once the election was over that things would pick up. I'm sorry. There just aren't any jobs. Nobody is hiring."

Really?

Well, the election results had been in less than twelve hours. Considering every employer is laying off staff or shutting their doors permanently, I highly doubt they had a staff waiting in the wings at midnight to magically post new jobs contingent upon the president elect!

My financial and mental states require that I find a job... and fast! This urgency has led me to loosen my job standards and apply for some less desirable positions. I've worked since the age of 15, with my longest gap in between jobs being two weeks, until this point. I love to work! And I love paying bills easily even more!

Thursday, I received a call from the unemployment office. Is this good news?!

A job?!

Nope.

She just wanted to check on my "No Worker Left Behind" status. You can choose job assistance or tuition assistance. Well, there are no jobs to be assisted in getting, and classes don't begin until January. Limbo. I'm in it.

"You have an excellent resume."

Really? Jenny Craig didn't think so! Seriously! I sent a resume and cover letter into Jenny fuckin Craig, and got a "thank you for your interest, but we won't be selecting you as a candidate" email in less than 24 hours. Well, Jenny, I'll have you know that my Bachelor's of Science with concentrations in Health, Physical Education, and English, combined with my I.Q. being considerably above 40... make me qualified enough for at least an interview! Are you afraid Valerie Bertinelli and I won't get along because I never thought Eddie Van Halen was cute?

What gives?

"Intimidation" at the Polls

OK, kiddies. The judge ruled in favor to uphold the ban on candidate buttons and T shirts at the polls. Apparently, if I were to wear an Obama button pinned to my shirt... you might become paralyzed with fear of voting for McCain, piss your pants, and throw the whole damned election!

I realize this law has been on the books since the 50's... and understand that there is to be no campaigning within 100 feet of a polling location. However, have our minds become so weak, that the sight of a button or T-shirt affects our vote? Do we need taxpayer money spent on debating this issue? Do we need the government to protect us from the mystical, hypnotic powers of some dude's "Vote for McCain" T-shirt when we place our votes?

It's a good thing I'm a little short on money. The childish, sarcastic bitch inside of me would love to show up to vote, covered in any bit of political paraphernalia I can get my hands on. Layers upon layers of it! My thousands of bullying buttons cling-clanging like a wind chime. T-shirts piled on to the point of my arms becoming immobilized. Hats stacked on my head higher than in a Tennessee truck stop gift shop. Maybe even covered in buttons and such bearing BOTH candidates names! Then what? Wouldn't that be "fair?" And how do they plan to "cover" these things? Is the state providing masking tape and garbage bags? Or will you be asked to go home and "cover yourself?"

If we are truly so feeble minded, I think it would be wonderful to reverse the decision! Watching everyone panic, sweat profusely, and change their mind each time someone passed by with a t-shirt or button on supporting the other candidate would make for some phenomenal people watching! I could run a popcorn stand for the viewers... and also to provide sustenance to those who had been attempting to make their deciding vote for hours. Most of us don't have a job anyway... so what's the rush? Our state would be the last to deliver official results. Maybe the election would never be decided due to the chaos created by these scary button-wearing people!
http://www.wwmt.com/articles/judge_1355072___article.html/mich_shirts.html

My Chinny-chin chin

Thank God I don't have hair on my chinny-chin chin... but I sure do have a ZIT! An angry little pustule of frustration that people of my age are supposed to be immune to! A lump-like little reminder that things just simply kind of suck right now. Right there. On my face.

But, I, in true fighting spirit, am trying to keep my zitty chin up!

The skin. The largest organ of our entire bodies. And, typically, the first to show signs of stress or illness. I am stressed! And it's making me sick! I'm just praying that once this ugly bugger implodes, so shall the angst. The angst that has festered, and taken the shape of this angry red zit!

It has become my unconscious obsession. Something to play with when I temporarily zone out to another place. Something to pick at. Something to be mad at. Even a little reminder that things won't stay this way forever. That they once were better (pre-zit), and they will be better again (post-zit). And if it doesn't go away... perhaps I can sell it to a medical research facility. Maybe even claim it bears the face of Jesus and hock it for hundreds of dollars on Ebay!

Until then, it's just me, my zit, and my, sometimes exhaustively, upturned chin... trying to get along, get by, and get things all "cleared up."

A New Perspective

In twelve hours... twelve hours... I will be escaping this God-forsaken town for an entire day!!!! I am so excited! For one day, I am going to do everything in my power to forget my current circumstances! I'm going to break free from this brutal bondage of bullshit, and live it up!

In honor of my breakout... I have purchased some special glasses that allow me to see things from a new perspective. They will look better with my outfit I'm wearing tomorrow... but I thought you readers might like a peek. (See photo)

We're gonna have a HOOT!!!!!!

p.s. Happy Birthday to Scott!!