Tuesday, September 25, 2007

I'm that asshole...

So it is roughly 10:00 PM my time. I've been consuming alcoholic beverages since roughly 5:00 PM. That's five hours of alcoholic consumption for those of you who are mathematically impaired.

It was roughly this time when I deemed it time to call my friend Debbie.

Naturally she was asleep. I of course forgot about the whole time zone difference.

When she answered all sleepy-voiced, I was that asshole who said, "Oh, god, were you asleep? I'm sorry!"

Yep. That's me. I'm that asshole.

I admit that I am a total ass in this regard.

But shortly thereafter I called my friend Brittany... (Not to be confused with Britney and her nasty weave.)

When she answered her phone, the conversation went:

B: "Hello?"
L: "What's happening!?"
B: "I don't know."
L: "Do you know who this is?"
B: "No."
L: "I'll give you three guesses... and I'll give you a hint... A.) I'm AWESOME!"
B: "Oh my god! How are you!?!?! [Last name redacted] I haven't talked to you in forever!"
(I would like to note at this point that it took one of my friends only 2.4 seconds from the point I said "I'm awesome" to the point of identification with no further indication to identity.)
L: "I'm good! I hear you're coming back into town in a week or so!"
B: "Yeah I am! And I'm thinking a drink is in order!"
L: "Are you kidding? I'm thinking like 7 or 8 drinks are in order!"
B: "Yeah! And considering he has like three kids now, I'm thinking a prank call to [redacted] is in order as well."
L: "Well YEAH, because when a guy has three kids, that's prime time for prank calls."
B: "Yeah, he's going to hate us, but it'll be worth it."

And I can promise I will make that prank call to the gentleman with three children.

You can bet on it...



Monday, September 24, 2007

I don't know...

It's once again time for me to work on weekly paperwork... This means it's prime time for procrastination. I don't know what the hell to post for you people, but I don't want to do any real work, so you get the lazy blogger's version of a post, better known as a meme.

Feel free to skip it if you are so inclined... It's clearly nothing of substance.

1. Is your second toe longer than your first?

No, it's about the same length... possibly a millimeter or two shorter.

2. Do you have a favorite type of pen?

Yeah, my favorite pens are ones that work! And ones that that are not covered with saliva when I borrow them from someone else because the one I had didn't work. Nothing worse than borrowing someone else's pen only to find your hand covered in drool. (But then again, I chew on my pens, so who am I to complain.)

3. Look at your planner for March 14, what are you doing?

Well, let's see, that's a Saturday, so I'm probably working, but by then I'll have some vacation time to burn, so if you want to hang out, I'll see what I can do!

4. What color are your toenails usually?

Umm... Toenail colored? Kind of a fleshy-pinkish... I'm too lazy to paint them most of the time.

5. What was the last thing you highlighted?

I think I highlighted excerpts from some animal control ordinances, to show some clients good reasons to get rid of some portion of their herd of cats. Around the same time I highlighted portions of a psych evaluation of a client's child... Hard to say which one was the last thing.

6. What color are your bedroom curtains?

They are kind of an off-white crinkly... I know crinkly is a texture rather than a color, but it plays a factor in how the color looks, so I deem it worthy of mention.

7. What color are the seats in your car?

Tan and covered in little kid dirt and grubbies... So, dirty tan.

8. Have you ever had a black and white cat?

I've never had a cat... My mom is allergic to cats, so I never had one growing up, and now that I'm grown, I prefer not to have a shit box in my house. This is not a judgment on those of you who do have cats, just a personal preference on my part.

9. What is the last thing you put a stamp on?

I put stamps on my electric bill... because I'm a big fan of my air conditioning, and food not rotting in my fridge.

10. Do you know anyone who lives in Wyoming?

No... People actually live in Wyoming? Why?

11. Why did you withdraw cash from the ATM the last time?

Because I had to pay for my haircut, and while the salon accepts debit cards for products, my stylist only accepts cash. I think this is some kind of weird tax evasion thing, but I can't prove it...

12. Whose is the last baby that you held?

I hold client's babies all the time... Part of the job. The last one I held belonged to a semi-unhinged lady who lost the kid because of drug use.

13. Unlucky #?

I've never liked the the number 19... Though I don't know if I'd go so far to call it unlucky, unless I'm playing blackjack it seldom comes up in luck-related scenarios and I don't want to be accused of slander or anything.

14. Do you like Cinnamon toothpaste?

Not particularly... I'm a mint gel kind of girl.

15. What kind of car were you driving 2 years ago?

I wasn't driving a car two years ago... I was rollin' in a Chicago city bus and riding the red line.

16. Pick one: Miami Hurricanes or Florida Gators?

Just pick one? If I'm picking one to be trampled by a pack of wildebeests, and have their rotting corpses then pecked at by giant vultures, then I'm going to go with Miami. If I'm picking them for any other purpose, I'll take the gators.

17. Last time you went to Six Flags?

In college... It was a weekend road trip. Good times.

18. Do you have any wallpaper in your house?

Thankfully, no.

19. Closest thing to you that is yellow?

There is some light cheez whiz on a bowl of broccoli I was just enjoying... That's kind of a yellowy-orangeish but I say it counts.

20. Last person to give you a business card?

The only people who I ever give my business cards to are clients... And as soon as I give it to them, I pray they will never use it, because I don't want to hear from them in my down time.

21. Who is the last person you wrote a check to?

Indiana Department of Motor Vehicles... I had to get a new license plate since you ask.

22. Closest framed picture to you?

I've got a vintage-looking black and white picture of some guys putting in their boxers under a sign that says "Play golf FREE while having your suit pressed," hanging on the wall behind me.

23. Last time you had someone cook for you?

I am not so rude as to "have someone cook for me" I recently had the privilege of eating a meal my mom cooked just last night! It was delicious.

24. Have you ever applied for welfare?

Not for myself, I have assisted others in doing so though.

25. How many emails do you have?

542 in one junk mail box, about 30 in the inbox... I'm guessing that the combined total of my 4 email addresses is probably in the range of about 2,500.

26. Last time you received flowers?

I got flowers for my birthday last year... They were beautiful! (Birthday is coming up soon for any of you who wish to make this a running occurrence.)

27. Do you think the sanctity of marriage is meant for only a man & woman?

No. And I will engage in fisticuffs with anyone who cares to argue.

28. Do you play air guitar?

My predecessor's answer was far better than one I would have come up with, so in this case, I will defer to his answer... "No. I used to, but I smashed my air guitar against my air amp late last year, in an air concert in air Kansas City, destroying both, as well as much of air Kansas City."

29. Has anyone ever proposed to you?

Once, but it was as a result of consuming my "Marry me chocolate chip cookies" (thus the name.) I accepted the proposal, and there was an awkward silence... As of today I've been engaged for over 5 years, and the gentleman to whom I am affianced has been missing in action for a little over 4 of those years. It's a lonely life...

30. Do you take anything in your coffee?

Skim milk and bit of sugar or splenda.

31. Do you have any Willow Tree figurines?

I assume that this is some kind of figurine brand... To the best of my knowledge, I don't think so, but I've got some kooky shit around here, so who knows.

32. What is/was your high school's rival mascot?

In lieu of correcting the grammatical sequencing of that question, I'll just note that the sentence would better read: What is your rival high school's mascot?

In which case it was either a bulldog or a wildcat, depending on if we're talking private school rival or public school rival.

33. Last person you spoke to from high school?

Probably that poor guy I saw working at the grocery store... I don't hang out with the high school folks much anymore... I didn't really like them the first time around.

34. Last time you used hand sanitizer?

Doing what I do for a living means that having stock options in purell would be a sound investment. I use it after I wrap up pretty much any contact with any client. I go through a bottle every couple of weeks.

35. Would you like to learn to play the drums?

Are the lessons free? If not, I am willing to barter air guitar lessons in order to learn the drums.

36. What color are the blinds in your living room?

Kind of an off-white, vertical, ugly.

38. Last thing you read in the newspaper?

Somebody's obituary.

39. What was the last pageant you attended?

Are we talking beauty pageant or like a school play? I don't do beauty pageants, but if that's what you're interested in, then I suggest you read a couple of posts from Elaine... Here and here. (Actually, I recommend those posts even if you're not into beauty pageants, if only because they are highly entertaining.) If we're talking about a school play, then it was probably a production of Music Man in high school. It sucked.

40. What is the last place you bought pizza from?

Having lived in Chicago and being friends with real Italians, I won't dishonor the title of "Pizza" by calling that dough-slab from Papa John's a pizza... The last real pizza I had was from Giordano's.

41. Have you ever worn a crown?

Aside from one of those Burger King crowns? Maybe a few clover crowns as a kid. (I was a champion at making clover crowns!)

42. What is the last thing you stapled?

A cognitive therapy anger management book... No, I'm not a therapist, but I use the material as a handy guide for teaching the stuff.

43. Did you ever drink clear Pepsi?

Once... And that was enough for me to say NEVER AGAIN!

44. Are you ticklish?

Not really... But depending on who is doing the tickling, I'll fake it.

45. Last time you saw fireworks?

I saw some on TV at the Bears game on Sunday night, in person it's been since the fourth of July.

46. Last time you had a Krispy Kreme doughnut?

I'm not big on doughnuts... I could have had one last Tuesday at the staff meeting, but I skipped it. I'd say the last time I actually ate one was a few years ago.

47. Who is the last person that left you a message & you actually returned it?

A case worker. We're not allowed to get mad when they don't return our calls, but when we don't return theirs, we have hell to pay.

48. Last time you parked under a carport?

Six years ago. And there was an earthquake while I was parked under it which made me question the structural integrity of said carport. I've not had the opportunity to park under one since in order to prove I bear no grudge against the category of structures as a whole.

49. Do you have a black dog?

Why's it gotta be a black thing? I suppose if I say no you're going to call me a racist!

50 . Have you had your mid life crisis yet?

Not yet. It's tentatively scheduled for 2027.

51. Are you an aunt or uncle?

Unless I magically sprouted testicles since I last checked, I'm pretty sure I would not be an uncle... But yeah, one of my sisters has two boys, so I am an aunt.

52. Who has the prettiest eyes that you know of?

My friend Krystian has very pretty eyes. They are pale green. He knows they are pretty. He uses this fact to his advantage!

53. What kind of soap or body wash do you use?

St. Ives exfoliating apricot. I'm not really a fan of the scent, but it gets the job done.

54. Do you remember Ugly Kid Joe?

Do you mean the band, which I remember only because of the name? Or Joe Schultz, who attended high school Spanish with me?

In either case, yes. Vaguely.

55. Do you have a little black dress?

I have a dress. It is little, it is black, but I would not go so far as to call it a little black dress as it is made of jersey material, and I'm not thinking it's something for a date or a formal occasion.

Either way, this interview is over!

So there you have it, my useless answers to a bunch of useless questions. I hope you enjoyed yourself!

In sports news, for those few of you who care, I would like to point out that I was highly amused by Jason Taylor (Miami) sawing in an interview, "I suck right now. There. That's your headline." (No clip on youtube just yet, but I am watching for it...) I also wait for the day when Rex Grossman admits that to himself and everyone else... Because we all know he sucks a hell of a lot worse than Jason Taylor...

And in other sports related news, I don't think I could respect myself as a Cubs fan if I didn't post this for everyone's enjoyment... I thought it was funny. If only because they called Ozzie Guillen "una punk!"

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Back, back, back it up...

I had a ridiculous day at work which included an impromptu meeting with a case manager and a client which somehow stretched into three grueling hours.

After seeing a couple other clients and ending my day at around 8 PM, I was driving home. I was thinking to myself, "Damn, I'm glad today is over..." when all of a sudden another thought popped into my head. It said, "Don't take your normal route home... Take the route home which runs near the Best Buy, go in and get yourself a jump drive AND and external hard drive. You REALLY need to back up your hard drive, and you need to do it tonight."

Being a person who operates under the perpetual cloud of Murphy's law, I tend to listen to that intuitive little voice when it pipes up with something out of nowhere.

This means in all likelihood my computer will randomly decide to eat itself as I sleep tonight... Either that, or now that I have spent the money and taken the time to make sure that things are now backed up, it will run perfectly into perpetuity. (Personally, I'm thinking the smart money is on my computer eating itself... It may not be tonight, but it's gonna happen, and I can hardly wait!)

I have been needing to invest in an external hard drive for quite some time actually, but have continuously put it off until now... Something I was VERY unhappy about the last few times that my computer has decided to act like an obnoxious emo teenager and start self-mutilating. I spent more than a few hours mentally kicking my own ass (and the asses of those incompetent assholes on the Geek Squad) because technology has let me down, and I was too dumb or poor to invest in a backup system.

So this brings me to a couple of questions, and I'm using you fine folks as a straw poll population.

First off, do you guys back up? Nobody talks about this, but every time I've ever had a problem people look at me like I must've just crawled out from under a rock because apparently, under cover of night, EVERYBODY BACKS UP! WHERE HAVE I BEEN? And for you backer- uppers, how often do you back up? I mean now that I've made the investment I intend to back up EVERYTHING like every couple weeks or at least once a month... Is this too often? Is this too infrequent? Someone give me an idea! I just know I'm sick of losing my music library and my work documents!

Secondly, does anyone else have that intuitive voice? The one that seems to seldom say much, but the one that when it does, you know you better listen? The one that says, "Don't go left, TRUST ME, go right!" and in the dramatic example you find out that a crane would have fallen on you at the exact moment of your arrival on a given spot had you not listened to the voice and turned left anyway?" Is the intuitive voice more widespread, or am I just totally nuts? (If I'm nuts, you can just say so, because as I've noted before, I wouldn't be surprised if I was totally bonkers, but I own it because I don't know any other way to operate.)

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Breathe heavy...

No this is not a hot and heavy tale... Get that out of your filthy mind!

I don't know why I deemed this worthy of a post, but I just got to thinking about a girl I knew in college.

She was very cute and had a long-term boyfriend whom she broke up with midway through college, and after that point she seemed to have no trouble finding guys to date... But there was one small problem... Actually, if you ask me, it was a big problem.



It was often difficult for me to hold a conversation with her, because standing or sitting within three feet of her meant suffering the death breath. It really was quite toxic. And to make matters worse, she seemed to be terminally suffering from nasal congestion which made her a mouth-breather. ICK!

In the days when I would see her on a regular basis, I often contemplated whether or not to bring this up... Trying to balance the fact that she might not even be aware of it with trying not to hurt her feelings... You know how it goes.

I know I would want someone to tell me if my breath stunk more than the most raunchy gaseous emissions of my ass, if only so that I could do something about it... I mean yeah, it would be really embarrassing for someone to tell you that, but in the end it's really for your own good.

I never did say anything to her... I just carried an ample supply of gum.

Your thoughts?

Monday, September 17, 2007

The lazy cleaner...

I admit wholeheartedly that there is a part of me which is inherently lazy. I also admit that there is a part of me which is more than a little bit OCD when it comes to cleaning.

On occasion these two facets of my psyche face off and come to blows. (The OCD cleaner occasionally compromises, and the lazy occasionally goads the cleaner into a little naptime/procrastination, but in the end the cleaner always wins.)

I should point out that in the grand spectrum of things, I am a cleaner anyway. (And if anything, having the job that I have makes me even more of a cleaner because I see ALL KINDS OF NASTINESS all day.) But I also acknowledge that there have been times when the cleaner has gone on strike, giving laziness the rule of the land.

My weekends are prime time for these two to go head to head and duke it out. The laziness screams out, "BITCH PLEASE! We've been working all week! I'm taking a nap!" While the cleaner hollers, "What crap-hatchery! Your lazy ass needs to vacuum, take out the trash, and I think I spotted some soap scum in the shower... Oh, and there are water spots in your sink basin!" (I told you that the cleaner was a little OCD... Because if there's any place where it's acceptable to have water spots, it's in the sink basin, but for some reason the cleaner is really irritated by stuff like that!)

So today, after turning in my weekly paperwork, a case summary, my schedule, my coverage sheets, and running to the bank, the cleaner got antsy. "Hey, I know you just got done doing all that important stuff so that you can get paid and all, but since you don't have anything else to do today, I'm thinking that you REALLY ought to wash your car... And vacuum it out. And scrub the upholstery. And god, those windows are filthy inside and out, and you know while you're at it, you might as well shine up the dashboard and console with that armor-all stuff." (She's a bit of a nag, that cleaner is!) Meanwhile the lazy oaf yawned and said, "We got up early! Why are we thinking about that instead of going home and going back to bed?" (The lazy oaf is AWESOMELY lazy.)

So I listened to them yammer for a little while... They bicker like little old women.

And in the end, the cleaner won... Like I said, she always does.

And so I went and washed the car. And I vacuumed it out. And I did the windows inside and out. And then I went and got the armor-all stuff and shined everything up. The cleaner was pleased.

The lazy oaf was SCREAMING, "ENOUGH! It's time for a nap... or at least a little mindless television viewing!" The cleaner relented knowing that the car was clean. (It should be noted that since part of my job entails hauling around some seriously grubby kiddos all week, I don't make a habit of deep cleaning my car, certainly not enough for the cleaner's liking. Because that's when the practical side pipes in and says, "Listen. This is STUPID. Why spend the time, money, and effort when it's all going to be grubby again five minutes into your next work week." The cleaner occasionally argues with practicality, and occasionally she wins, but practicality oftentimes gets the better of the cleaner... And the car is totally the domain of my practicality.)

So the car was clean, and the laziness was pissed off because she was being ignored to this point. I elected to appease the laziness with a little Dr. Phil... After all, it was my day off, and Laziness LOVES Dr. Phil, because not only is it mindless television, it's watching total crazies who dress and act like normal people part of the time, but still end up on the boob tube because underneath that shiny facade they are really just nine kinds of crazy. After an hour of Dr. Phil and thirty minutes of Jeopardy, the cleaner was feeling a little antsy. "Hey, you're not sleeping... You could be cleaning! You SHOULD be cleaning! You really ought to go through that bin where you dump your mail all the time. And the dishwasher needs loading. And the trash is going to start smelling if you don't take it out. And after all of that, I'm thinking that the vacuum really REALLY needs to be run... I mean you didn't come home and vacuum at all this week, did you?"
The laziness and I exchanged a look which could most easily be translated as, "Oh brother... She's on a cleaning bender, isn't she? It's easier to just let her have her way when she's like this."

So I did all that, and I folded laundry, and scrubbed the bathroom. And thus I appeased the cleaner. Or so I thought. Laziness and I were just sitting down for a late afternoon snooze in my comfy new chair, and the cleaner piped in once more. While sitting there, the cleaner busted out the Judge Judy voice and said, Uh-bup bup bup BUP, MISSY! You're just sitting there! While you were going through that mail bin, you found your jewelry cleaning cloth, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU! ...I think you really ought to go and polish some stuff! You know it needs it! And you can do it sitting down... That ought to make you happy!" I polished a few things, and then told the cleaner to shove it. Laziness and I were teaming up and beating the cleaner into submission.

So I had a really productive day, and then I got that nap I'd been craving all along. Since then I've been e-mailing some friends, and trying to come up with a blog post which wasn't quite so lame as this one has been... The laziness set up a picket line in the writer's block region of the brain, and thus prevented me from getting all creative and coming up with something better, so this is what you get.

Thursday, September 13, 2007

Diggin' it...

One of the few perks of my job is that depending on your case load, and the needs of your clients, you can pretty much set your own schedule. Yeah, there are times when you've got to go to court at 8 AM for them, or when there is no way to move a visit up so that you get home before 9 PM. But at the moment I've got a pretty sweet schedule which doesn't require me to see a client before noon on any given day of my work week. This allows me to sleep in pretty late most days... Sleeping in seldom lasts as long as I would like it to, because I am often very rudely awakened by calls from my office, or a case worker, or a foster parent, or somebody having some "crisis." (I use the term crisis loosely, because the vast majority of the time it's a call because they want to let me know that when I meet with them later they have something planned, and they just wanted me to know about it... Personally, I think it's good to have a plan, but unless it involves offing yourself before our regularly scheduled appointment, then it can wait the two hours until I see them.) But I have digressed from my original concept for this post.

As a result of being able to sleep in, I've gotten into the habit of watching the late shows on the one channel I get. (I still haven't gotten around to getting cable... and since I don't watch a lot of television, I'm not sure it's worth the expense.) But recently I've caught a couple of performances on those late night shows by a musical act known as "A Fine Frenzy." It falls pretty firmly into the "chick music" column, being that it is a mellow female voice over primarily piano driven music. I'm ok with that. But I heard this song, and just went, "Damn. I know that feeling... She nailed that one."

Just thought this one is worth sharing... I also recommend "Rangers."

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Class warfare...

I'm not looking for trouble here.

I'm not passing judgment on anyone, no matter what job they hold, what wage they make, or whether or not they pursued education with any fervor... Some of the sharpest people I know BARELY made it out of high school. Some of the wealthiest people around are totally worthless human beings (see: Paris Hilton) and there are certainly people out there who live happy, full lives while working what some would consider "blue collar" jobs.

Once again, I note I am not looking for trouble, and I'm not passing judgment on ANYONE.


I will say that in spite of my troubles with finding a job in my former urban environment, I'm glad that I pursued a college education with a goal of pursuing fulfilling and financially gainful employment.

What brought this on?

I walked into a grocery store where I was minding my own business and ran into a guy with whom I attended high school. I greeted him warmly enough and asked him how he was doing. He informed me he was tired because he just finished working a fourteen hour day at the grocery. Now, this is a guy in his mid twenties, so there are plenty of people in a similar situation, humping a crappy job, just getting by, doing what they do.

Like I said before... NO JUDGMENT.

But when one considers that this is the same job he's had since he was a sophomore in high school, and that during high school he behaved in a generally snotty I'm-too-good-for-you- because -my-parents- are- well-to-do-type manner, and now it would seem that the parents have cut off the cash flow... Well... I suppose I wish him the best, hope that he's happy doing it, and silently think that I'm glad it's not me!

I know that there are a great many people out there, working at whatever job it is that they might do, and they look at what I do, and they say, "I'm glad it's not me," too... And I don't begrudge them that opinion of my work either. It's definitely not a job for everyone. If it were, the turnover rate at my office wouldn't be NEARLY as high as it is, and job satisfaction rates would be astronomical, but it's definitely not one of those jobs that most people would find enjoyable.

For those of you who maybe haven't been around long enough to get the gist of my job, or for those who might need a little clarification, I am a home-based social worker. I go out into the clients' homes and I provide them with services. I supervise visitation between parents who DCS has deemed unfit and their children. I provide parent aide services, which entails everything from teaching people how to clean their own home, or informing them about personal hygiene, or telling someone that it might be a good idea to pick up the poop on the floor left behind by the (LITERALLY) 12 cats and 5 dogs which they never allow to go outside, to helping people with felony records find work, or financial assistance when a job is not forthcoming. I do parent education, which entails reading and discussing materials with clients which basically tells them, "Um, hey, it might not be such a good idea to beat your kid with items you find conveniently lying around, like a belt or an electrical cord. Oh, and in addition to being a bad idea, its also illegal." I do juvenile mentoring with kids, which quite frequently consists of teaching kids how to deal with the stresses of life, and fostering self-esteem in those who have little if any dignity because they have been continually victimized by those who were supposed to protect them. I also get to go to case conferences and court dates for these people. And no, my office does not pay me for my gas or car-related expenses... I have the privilege of doing that on the meager salary that the state allots to sub-contracted social workers. My clients often yell at me, call me awful names, and avoid me when they know I'm trying to get in touch with them about something important. I step into houses which are infested in every way possible, and are littered with feces both animal and human, and which smell like the real life equivalent of the bog of eternal stench. And I maintain composure and control of my gag reflex like you would not believe... (Because nothing blows your rapport with a client like admitting that their house has disgusted you to the point where you vomit on their tumor-ridden cat.)

Like I said, it's not a job for everyone... But seeing that guy, and hearing him mention working a fourteen hour day at the grocery store, I admit I said to myself, "Damn, I'm glad it's not me."

...Though, I admit that after looking at that bluntly honest job summary, I have to admit, part of me can't think of why I'm glad its him at the grocery and not me...

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

I am so boring...

I want to begin by issuing preemptive apologies.

The fact is, I am so boring right now.

Wait... That first sentence is pretty much how Britney should have opened her performance last night.

I'm not going to delve into the pop-culture commentary though. I'll leave that to the pros. Especially considering they've made just about every joke which can be made about it at this point. But really... Who greenlit that one? And where can I get some of what they were smoking? This was one of those occasions where I was glad that I didn't have cable, so I didn't pay for that performance, and when I did catch it on D-listed, I was grateful that I hadn't wasted any portion of my Sunday on that trainwreck of a show (opened by the trainwreck of all trainwrecks!)

Back to my own boredom.

I went to that little get together on Friday night, and aside from grabbing the ass of a cute fire fighter, (at his request,) it was nothing special.

Other than that, I spent my weekend essentially recharging the ol' batteries by doing a lot of sleeping, some necessary cleaning, and very little else. (I've seriously astounded myself with my sleeping abilities lately... Seriously, I'm awesome at it!)

In work related news, I recently closed one of my most miserable-to-deal-with cases. I still have another one that is horrendously bad, and that one is most likely not closing any time soon. (They are lifers, and the only way I'm getting out of that case is to transfer it once I get to the point where I can't handle it anymore and have to get out for the sake of my sanity.) But when it came to closing the other afforementioned case and when talking to other people around the office, they asked about my case load, I mentioned that I closed this particular case, and the reaction was universally the same. They'd burst out cheering and say, "God, I bet you're relieved!" I'd reply with, "You didn't even have it, and you're cheering... Why? Because you always had that dread in the back of your mind, thinking, 'OH JESUS, they could transfer that case and they could force it on me!' Or at least that's something I'd have been thinking in your position." The response was usually, "Yeah, you pretty much nailed it."

So we were all happy to see them go.

Like I said, I'm horrendously boring right now. This post has benefited absolutely no one in absolutely no way, and we are all slightly dumber and more boring for having suffered through it. Once again, apologies.


Kelly: "Hey, have you ever been there to eat?"
Liz: "Where?"
Kelly: "Charlie's Mongolian Barbecue."
Liz: "No, why? Is it good? I don't usually go to Mongolian barbecue restaurants in buildings which very closely resemble barns."
Kelly: "Yeah, it's pretty good... Well, I mean kinda... Pretty much everybody I've ever talked to who has been there has ended up with a nasty case of the runs."
Liz: "Kelly, forgive me if I don't run out to Charlie's right now, largely because I don't consider that to be the most resounding endorsement."
Kelly: "Well, it's pretty good going in... It's coming out where you run into problems."
Liz: "Yeah, I can just hear the radio commercial now! 'CHARLIE'S MONGOLIAN BARBECUE! COME FOR THE SPRING ROLLS, STAY FOR THE DYSENTERY!"

Friday, September 07, 2007

I gots me kollidge ejekashin...

Some of you may recall that post where I noted that I have been fighting with my alma mater over some fraudulent billing, and where I won, because I have a college education and apparently the people I was fighting with were quite obviously not too sharp. (Never underestimate stupid people in large groups, nor their abilities to frustrate you to the point of tears and night sweats.)

Well, tonight my mom decided to surprise me.

She came over and conferred upon me my college diploma.

Yeah, that's right, FINALLY got my college diploma more than two years after graduation. Sure, it's just a piece of paper, but dammit, since they own my first and second born children, it's a piece of paper that I really wanted to have in my possession. Now watch a fire rip through my apartment building and just ruin everything.

Some of you are thinking, "But why did they send it to your mom, and not you?"

They sent it to my mom because my mom is AWESOME, and she spent ridiculous amounts of time on the phone cajoling all the wrong people until they finally gave her the right one, and upon having that one right person pull up my information and having her see everything we've been through to this point, that ho was MORE than happy to not only send my diploma, but to put it in the fancy diploma case and to have it overnighted at the university's expense. (Kinda the least they can do at this point, really.) Basically my mom is a rockstar, because she saved me from wasting a large part of a day off arguing with those bitches myself... Which I'll have to do anyway when I go on my "you've single-handedly ruined my credit" rampage... That's coming up in the not too distant future.

In other news, one of my co-workers is supposed to be hosting a little get together this weekend. I will post pictures if it happens, (he's said he was hosting things in the past and canceled last minute before).

That's really all I've got. I've had a shitty week, and haven't wanted to drag you all into it... But Momma getting my really expensive piece of paper on my behalf was really stupendous, and it brightened things up quite a bit!

Here endeth the post.

Monday, September 03, 2007

NO NO NO! I'm a toys r us kid!

On occasion, members of my peer group, members of my family, and other assorted people ask me when the hell I'm going to get married and have kids.

Well, first off, there needs to be a guy involved. Preferably one who doesn't make me want to gouge my eyes out whenever he opens his mouth to speak, and one who is not already married, or totally gay. Those are basically my minimum requirements.

Secondly, I THINK I'm still too much of a kid myself to go out and start making babies. I'm all for putting procreation on hold until certain criteria are met.

But this leads into an important question... When is it that I'm going to start feeling like an adult?

If we're going by the response that my knees give me on a fairly regular basis, I've already crossed the threshold into adulthood... In fact, if you were to ask the joints strategically located between my hips and my ankles, they would tell you that I should probably be damn near menopausal by now... But I prefer not to ask my knees, because, well, they suck.

If you were to ask my uterus, she'd tell you that she's been ready to cook a baby until it's nice and tender since I was 12... We're not asking her either. She makes my life hell.

If we were to address my psyche, it would tell you that I'm still a kid, and as such I am still far too concerned with drinking until my liver has achieved a hardness close to that of a diamond.

Current reports from the liver indicate that we've only achieved the hardness of shale at the moment. (We have a long way to go!)

My psyche has also availed itself to pay attention to my clientèle. (If anything, the job I have at the moment devalues one's opinion of the merits of procreation... Stupid people are breeding, and they are doing it at an astronomical rate!)

(It should be noted that none of the regular readership here who happen to have children fall into the stupid breeders club... You are all intelligent, and your kids are frickin adorable... In fact I've mentioned to a few of you that I want to kidnap your kids, not because you are bad parents, but because your kids are just awesome!)

But occasionally I'll see a cute kid while out and about, and part of me pipes up, "HEY! That's an adorable kid! I want one of those!"

That part of me is rapidly squashed by the part of me which remembers my financial status and it is this part which screams, "YOU HAVE DONE LOST YO' MIND!"

So once again, we're back to the point at hand... What makes me more or less an adult?

I'm in that age range where a large number of the people I know are pairing off and saying "I dos." Many of them are reproducing. I have the job of a responsible adult... Though my friends all still get the giggles when I have to remind them that juvenile mentoring is a part of my job.

And then it hit me.

Last week, I went out looking for a piece of furniture. I sought out a leather club chair for my living room. And I found one that I really liked. One that went with my other furniture. And I said to myself, "You know, if you don't buy it now, when you're ready to buy it, it'll be discontinued, and you won't be able to get it."

It was as I plunked down my debit card and came to the realization that I just paid several hundred dollars of my hard earned money in cash for one single item, that I realized I was toying with the fringes of adulthood. I had just spent a large sum of money on a practical item which didn't pertain to keeping my car running (since my car is a big part of my job, car expenses don't count.) I don't own my own home, my student loans are FAR from being paid off, and I am not looking at purchasing a new car any time in the foreseeable future... HOLY CRAP. I am on the fringes of adulthood.

After the chair was delivered, I sat in it and pondered my fate.

Was I to join that long grey line of old fogeys? Was it possible? How long until I should start counting down to retirement? And how long after that would follow my death? (Most assuredly my death being headlined as "tragic spinster mauled by a pack of wild dogs while on the way home from the store after purchasing yarn for some project or another.")

I liked the chair a lot... But was I ready for this level of commitment? Was I ready to admit that part of my childhood died when I spent that chunk of change?

Well, that chair is in my living room, and it is damn comfortable... When I fall asleep in it, I like to equate it more to the naps of early childhood than to the naps of senile retirees... But who knows.

Maybe its just the impending birthday looming which has me on edge...

You be the judge.