A couple of notes...

First off, I made it here safe and sound... I have really great friends who helped with the loading of the truck, and we all know that the Admiral is my best friend in the world, so her assistance with the unloading was awesome, and considering we're merely two women who have no experience on the professional bodybuilding circuit, I was more than a little impressed with both of us for getting the thing unpacked by ourselves without any assistance from any boys. We also unhitched and re-hitched a car transport trailer, which was an ordeal unto itself, but either way, we got that bitch handled.

The other note is that have done a little tinkering, and removed some of the more superfluous bells and whistles from the site, so that it loads a fair amount faster... I hope this makes you happy, (::Cough, cough, CHRISTIE...::) Actually, the load time has bothered me for a while now, and I've been meaning to fix it, but never really felt so strongly about it to actually get it done until now.

And on one last note, it turns out that I have family that I totally forgot about here in Ohio, and I will totally be bumming a ride with them to the reunion. I am saving myself a lot of miles with that one! (WHEW!)

With that said, I am off to pack my bag for the family reunion, and will be back on Sunday... At which point I will be spending at least some portion of my time looking for a job and taking the most essential items I own out of my MANY MANY assorted boxes and other moving bins and receptacles. At some point I will be back with stories and pictures and love and affection for all of you. Until then, get your chores done, and you can stay up an extra hour before bedtime!

I'll holla at you bitches later!

Don't get your panties in a bunch!

I know that my posting here has been intermittent at best lately, but while quitting my job has afforded me some much needed time for me, (as well as improving my outlook on life overall,) my time has been spent packing my life into boxes in preparation for the big move!

Yes, that's right, Lizzle the nomad has returned once again! (But this time I'm genuinely happy about it!)

I will be picking my truck up on Tuesday, packing it Tuesday evening and with any luck I'll be on the road on Wednesday. After what is sure to be a long day of doing the final cleaning and a lot of driving, I will get to unload everything once again into the Admiral's house so that it stays safe while I look for work that doesn't involve poop shoes, scabies, lice, or welfare cases! All of my crap might get to take a break, but I certainly won't! Because no sooner than I arrive, I will be turning around and driving back to Indiana for the legendary annual family reunion! After which I'll spend roughly a week in Ohio, and then drive up to Chicago for Turkey and Murda's wedding extravaganza! (I will be escorted to the festivities by my spectacular gay boyfriend, Anthony.)

I'll get to run around for a few days in the city I so dearly loved and lost, and then I'll really set to the task of getting to know my new urban environment and hopefully finding regular work in a reasonable amount of time, at which point I'll move again, but let's not worry about crossing that bridge until we get there.

My point is this; once the dust settles, the posting is sure to become more regular, and considering I'll be living with the Admiral for an undetermined period of time, (and in daily contact with her even once we're not living together) the adventures are sure to be amazing and chronicle-worthy, and if I don't wind up in a coma or in jail, I promise to detail them for you in all their drunken, debaucherous, quotable, madcap, manic glory. This, of course, means the likely return of the notably-absent-of-late "Quote of the day!" But for the next couple of weeks, I'm going to be a REALLY REALLY busy bee!

Promise to miss me while I'm gone, do the dishes, take out the trash, and for god sakes, if you're not going to shower every day at least take a few minutes to freshen up! Oh, and for the love of god, someone give the dog a bath!

Oh, and no loud parties! I'm not coming home to bail you out of jail! The neighbors already think that we're a bunch of loud obnoxious miscreants!

The awesomeness continues!

Here's an update:

I still don't work at that hell hole anymore.

It still feels awesome.

I got the scuttlebutt from one of my friends who does still work there, and she told me something that made my blood boil, and also made me even more elated that I no longer work there.

Here's the story:

A friend/co-worker in that dump had a very sudden and very severe stroke several months ago at the young age of 38. As a direct result she took an unpaid medical leave... Now let's not even get into the fact that TWO DAYS after the stroke, someone from our office called and told her husband, (even as she lay partially paralyzed in the hospital bed) that she needed to return her work phone because they couldn't just have her making personal calls all willy-nilly... (But they called her on her personal cell to tell her this... The logic is baffling!) So after months of rehabilitation, her doctor just approved her to come back to work. She is still walking with the aid of a cane, and not 100%, but she's wanting to get back into the swing of things... So she comes into the office and talks to someone about getting cases again. They tell her that's not going to work. Because despite the fact that she had taken an unpaid medical leave, and continued using her medical benefits from the job, they told her that if she wanted to start working again, she would have to REAPPLY! Now as if this alone wasn't humiliating enough, they made her sit and fill out an application in the office, like she's some brand new hire... And please keep in mind that this is an establishment which tears through workers so fast that the turnover rate is astoundingly high, even for a social work setting, and as a result they are CONSTANTLY in search of people to take cases! And they did it in spite of the fact that she's been an employee ACTIVELY using her health coverage while on an UNPAID MEDICAL LEAVE for having a FUCKING STROKE! Now correct me if I'm wrong here, but isn't the whole point of a LEAVE OF ABSENCE to hold your position so that you have a job to go back to when you're done? If she's smart she'll file a lawsuit, but considering she's going back to that shit at all after they called to have her return her phone, and then forced her to go through the reapplication process, I don't think she will... But if it was me, you can bet I'd sue the pants off those fuckers.

Well, I'll just continue to sit and laugh my ass off for all the sorry suckers who still work there as I pack all of my worldly possessions into boxes and haul those boxes to Ohio! And I'll keep laughing no matter what job I get there, because ANYTHING is better than that bullshit!

Wait... It gets better?????

Just when I thought today couldn't get any better, my dad called.

Previous entries would make you believe that my dad calling instantly spelled bad news for my otherwise awesome day of liberation. And ordinarily you'd be right in thinking that way... But not today. NOTHING WAS GOING TO RUIN TODAY! NOTHING!

So he starts up conversation under the guise that he's coming to town and wants to get together. That's all well and good, because when he comes to town, he pays for the bar tab, and since alcohol is the only legal substance which facilitates and eases the tensions of me tolerating my father, I suffer his presence for a free night at the bar, and upon departing the bar, I contact all my inappropriate friends for more laughter and merriment without the drudgery of his company.

After a couple minutes of pleasantries, he segued over into more talk of the move... He asked what my decision to move would do to my mother.

"What does your mom think about this? How is she going to deal with it?"

"Dad, mom is fine with it. She's a big girl, she knows that she can call me any time she wants to, she can come and visit as often as her schedule allows, and she knows that I'm an adult and this is what's best for me."

"I imagine this will just destroy your poor mother."

"Well, you imagine wrong... She's fine with it, and in fact encouraging it because she knows I've been miserable here."

That effectively shut him up, though I imagine he'll have more to say when he comes to town... I'm fine with that too, because if he's going to try to guilt me into being miserable in my adult life for the sake of my mother's feelings, (which he should not pretend to know,) then I can guilt him right back by noting that his feigned concern for my mother's well being and feelings is the first time I've ever heard him express any concern for how she might feel in my 26 years on earth... And furthermore, the ploy didn't work because mom is in full support of the whole thing. That ought to piss him off good and proper.

So how does all of this improve my already excellent day? I'm in the mood for a little recap of the awesomeness anyway, so here goes!

Well lets see...

1) I quit that awful job once and for all.

2) Quitting that job allows me the freedom to move out of the festering cesspool of mediocrity known as my hometown in pursuit of greener pastures and higher education.

3) Moving without running it past dad has him so pissed off that he's been mulling it over since the last time we talked, and the best he can come up with to try and alter my course of action is an ineffective guilt trip... So I got to do exactly what I wanted to do all along AND I get to piss off my dad and make him feel impotent at the same time! And stealing dad's thunder by shooting him down like that really was just the icing on the cake!

GOSH THIS REALLY IS THE BEST DAY EVER!

Employer-ectomy...

The title gives you the right idea. I am done with working for the soul-sucking despots, and being totally unencumbered from my bonds there feels much the same way that I imagine a person feels when they have a giant tumor removed... Only my tumor consisted of about 200 people,(mostly benign, but at least 20 of them totally malignant,) four offices, 9 vans, a crap ton of useless individuals who had the benefit of being paid for all the hard work I was doing, without ever dealing with it and getting their hands dirty themselves, and a partridge in a pear tree. I don't know what all of that would add up to weight wise, but I think it goes without saying that it would be a LOT, and not carrying around the burden of that nasty tumor feels really good.

REALLY REALLY GOOD.

My friends and family have said that even since I gave notice they've noticed a change for the better in me. They say I smile more and I laugh easier, and there are fewer mentions of doom and gloom... I've seen it too. During my last week, I was working on paperwork, and a coworker who I had a little regular contact with was chatting me up, and suddenly gave me a very puzzled look. When I inquired as to why he was giving me that look, he informed me that the look on my face was foreign and he didn't know how to respond because he'd never seen it in our offices before. Needless to say I was smiling.

During the last two weeks in that hell, I talked to everyone around who I ever determined to have any sense, and encouraged them to make a run for it too... Short of personally organizing a mass walkout, I think I did all I could in the time I had remaining while still managing to get paid... I was more than a little subversive in my tactics, but if you ask me they deserved it.

Now the process of packing begins. I'll be packing all week, canoeing this weekend, and attending my going away party, hauling my crap to Ohio, coming back to clean my apartment, and pick up my car, and then attending my family reunion before landing solidly in my new home state. It promises to be a very full couple of weeks.

You'll be hearing from me... I don't know when exactly, but just keep checking in.

And if you have noticed a marked absence of my commenting at your blog, don't be offended. My computer charger shorted out, and I haven't been online lately beccause I can't charge my battery, but I promise that as soon as the new charger I ordered comes in, I'll make the rounds and catch up.

And to the commenter who wanted to find the song "Crazy Mary," I can help you out with that, but it'll have to wait until my new charger comes in, so shoot an e-mail my way and I'll get back to you with the file.

That is all.

Have a nice day my little chickadees! (I know I finally will!)

The home stretch...

The day I've so eagerly anticipated for the last 18 months has nearly arrived! It's almost finally here! The one handed countdown has begun! T-minus 5 days until I can make my way out of hell once and for all! Saints be praised! And I managed to do it all without contracting any funky diseases, without getting shot or stabbed, without so much as a black eye! I did have a few bumps and bruises, one sprained ankle, a few scrapes, one dog bite, and a lot of nights where sleep was fitful at best and nonexistent at worst, but all in all, I made it out relatively unscathed.

I can't say the same for the poop shoes, which tragically did not survive to see this glorious day, nor the articles of clothing worn into the scabies and lice house... but all in all, we've made it out in one piece.

I am composing this post now, instead of at the end of the week, because I can say without much hesitation that nothing is going to happen to me this week... I know this, because contrary to what my superiors believe, I am perfectly ok with phoning it in for the last few days when I don't have to worry about accountability. I've already passed my cases on to other people who will work them in a manner less impressive than my own, so I'm not overly concerned with someone questioning anything I have done so far... I know this because I got results. And everyone knows I didn't walk out when I had to treat the scabies house for lice, so they probably figure I'm a person of principle... Those silly, silly folks! They've crushed my soul enough. I think it's only fair that I get one week of slacktasticness on the clock!

5 days mother bitches! FIVE DAYS!

On a scale of one to ten rating my happiness to exit that hell known as my workplace, I'm going to rate my pleasure somewhere in the 67.437 range.

GO ME!

... Man I rock so hard at life!

Is that too much to ask?

I called my dad tonight. Those of you who've been around long enough know that my dad and I don't have the most sound and deeply rooted relationship. In fact, you might want to go ahead and just call it what it is, totally superficial, usually alcohol-fueled, seldom mutually beneficial, and based solely on the premise that as family members we are often compelled to make appearances at the same family related gatherings. (Which if we're replacing the "family" with "friend" in that description, it would pretty aptly capture most of my interaction with the rest of the male gender through the course of my life so far... It would be really awkward to go trolling for boys at family events... I might have a southern accent, but that just ain't happenin, SICKO!!) So it just goes to show you, your parents really are your models for how you function in society.

Anyway. Moving on.

So while talking to my dad, he asked how work was going. I informed him that it was fine considering that I only had two weeks left, and that knowing that has made me able to tolerate just about anything... Which barely makes everyday functions on my job even remotely bearable.

His response was not what I expected. It was a heavy sigh and a loaded silence... (I HATE THOSE.) He then launched into the question mode... Like I was making this decision on a whim, and not with two years of planning and the ultimate goal of furthering my education by going to GRAD SCHOOL!

I then spent the next twenty minutes explaining that this has been the plan for over two years, and that my working situation has driven me so close to the edge of homicide or suicide that I knew it was time to just take that next step and make it happen. I explained the plan, the safety net I have in place, the logistics of moving, everything he questioned I had a sound and reasoned response in place. And yet, you'd have thought that I had told him that I was selling off all of my worldly possessions to get the financing to get my meth lab up and running. I mean I might as well have said, "Dad, I'm washing my hands of all worldly possessions and backpacking through Europe sustaining myself by doing performance art involving gratuitous nudity, a nail gun, peanut butter, a live chicken, a taxidermied iguana, and a bunch of ping pong balls... Oh, and some Ritz crackers, because peanut butter ain't shit without some motherfucking Ritz crackers!"

Meanwhile my mother knows how unhappy I've been, and knows that this has been the plan all along, (largely because she LISTENS when I talk) and she of course is very supportive. She knows that getting out of my job will make me immensely happy. She knows that getting out of this craphole town will even further heighten my elation, and she also knows that grad school is the ultimate goal. She reasoned that dad was probably pissed off because I was telling dad all of this after the decision was already made, and not consulting him for some pearls if wisdom in advance. I think she's probably right... In which case the last 26 years have taught him ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, because I've always been one of those different drummer, independent, doing it my own way because I like my way better kind of people. ALWAYS.

So after twenty minutes of a conversation which served no purpose other than to royally chap my ass, I bid him farewell, because I wasn't about to stay on the phone with him if he wasn't going to utter the least little bit of support. That's all I really wanted. A little verbal, "Well, go get em kiddo!" It's not like I was asking for money to cover my moving expenses. But apparently being suicidally unhappy for the long term and drawing a paycheck by working at a job which is tantamount to shoving bamboo chutes under my fingernails is better than a short term of job searching in a better job market in the state where I plan to go to graduate school... Yeah, clearly that's rational.

So here's to you dad, thanks for being so sage and rational or if not sage and rational, at least showing a modicum of support and respecting my decisions as an intelligent reasonable adult here... OH WAIT... That wasn't you! SILLY ME! NEVERMIND! Happy motherfucking birthday.

(Do I sound bitter? Because I swear I'm not bitter AT ALL.)