Busy Bee...

So yeah, this week I took my first real day off, but that shouldn't indicate to you that I wasn't busy working on something.

Here's the thing about the world of social services... Even when you've got a day off, you've still got to make it to all your appointments... Now you just have one less day during the course of the week to make it happen. So that kept me busy. As did monthly reports, which were due on Thursday. And once I wrapped up my work week, I had another task to attend to.

I had to bottle my limoncello.

Well, I mean I didn't HAAAAAAVE to, but hey, I just got done working a full week with the additional joy of finishing monthly reports, bottling limoncello meant that it was ready to chill and enjoy! (Which is really what was needed.) So I went to a few different stores looking for bottles that would meet my needs. The first store had the kind of bottles I wanted, but not the right size, and they were grossly overpriced, the second store I went to did not have the kind of bottles I wanted, and the only bottles they did have were not only overpriced, they were as ugly as my friend's baby. The third store, despite advertising itself as a kitchen supply store had nothing but cake making supplies. And then I took a chance on a store that I did not expect to have bottles of any kind... I had to get a couple other things though, so I took the chance. And wouldn't you know it, they did have bottles. They were not exactly what I wanted, and they were a little smaller than I was hoping for, but they were pretty, and cheap enough that I was ok with getting them. So after my purchase was complete, I came home, cleaned out the bottles properly, and I took to filtering and bottling my magnificent citrus beverage.

For those of you who don't know about limoncello, I gather that you have not been reading Marcia's blog. (She also made some recently.) But Marcia and I do things a little differently, so I will go through my steps, (though my post admittedly lacks the handy visual aides.)

(My recipe is also a little different)

(Note: This is the recipe for a double batch! Because it's so good I didn't want to have to wait another three weeks for more! So if you want to TRY it, cut all ingredient amounts in half!)

I took 30 lemons and zested them using a fine cheese grater. (Marcia uses a potato peeler, which is totally effective as well.) I then placed the lemon zest in a class sun tea jar. I then poured two 750ml bottles of vodka over the lemon zest. And then I added my own special twist... I added 6 scored and scraped vanilla beans to the mix. (I added both the scrapings and the bean husks, which were filtered out later.) I then let them all sit in a cool dark cabinet for 3 weeks.

After what felt like an eternity, I determined that I had waited long enough. I heated a pan with 6 cups of water and 6 cups of sugar, making a simple syrup. I set the syrup aside to cool.

Since I use a fine cheese grater instead of a veggie peeler, filtering is ULTRA IMPORTANT.

So while my syrup was cooling, I was filtering my citrus-y mix using a coffee filter and a fine mesh strainer. And once everything was cooled and filtered, I combined them. I gave them a good stir and bottled it up. And I popped two bottles in the freezer. And the remaining bottles went into the cool dark cabinet to await proper chilling and consumption. (For those of you who are familiar with limoncello, you're probably still wondering about those vanilla beans... They really lend a certain something special to the recipe. The vanilla mellows out the beverage. They are kind of pricey and make it a little darker when bottled, but it's totally worth it... And if you can find real vanilla beans, I recommend them. Personally, I haven't tried the recipe using only vanilla extract instead of whole beans... So that's up to you.)

And so then I started drinking.

MMMMMM!

Happy July!

Happy Sunday!

Happy Lizzle!

Erm... Uhh... Wellllll...

Ok, so one of my friends had a baby. This is all well and good. I am happy for my friend, and happy that she has a healthy, happy baby with all 20 little fingers and toes.

There is just one problem.

(And once again, I'm probably going to hell for this...)

The baby is NOT cute.

Like REALLY not cute.

I mean anyone who has seen that particular kind of bun when they are fresh out of the oven can tell you that sometimes at first it's tough to tell if they are going to be cute. There is often a squished face, a misshapen head, you know, the obvious signs just how tough that trip down the birth canal is on everybody involved. Quite frequently the babies, regardless of sex, look a great deal like puckered old men. This one CERTAINLY looks like a puckered little old man. But here's the thing, she's a SHE, and she's not quite fresh from the oven anymore. (I thought that the not-cuteness would pass by now... It hasn't.)

I would post a picture of this not-cute baby, but I'm not sure whether or not mom reads the Happy Hour, and I don't want her to be offended. (I am honest with people about things, but so far I've been able able to avoid direct comment about the baby's physical appearance when addressing mom... Rest assured that if I tell you your child is cute, your child IS cute.)

I mean this one is REALLY, REALLY NOT CUTE!

I've only seen one baby who was less cute, and well, quite frankly, that baby had some kind of horrible skin disorder and looked like a lizard. (I'm just being honest.)



... I'm so going to hell for this post. I need to go prostrate myself at the nearest church as soon as possible, and then bathe in holy water for like a month! God should understand though... I mean God was the one who allowed for the genetics to merge in that particular fashion, so essentially, God hand crafted that baby in a non-cute manner! God is responsible for my friend's FUG baby! So this is SOOOOO not on me!

HOLY CRAP!

I am apparently a rockin' girl blogger!

Who'da thunk?

I was just trolling the interweb on my day off and I found, much to my surprise, that I had been pegged as a "Rockin' Girl Blogger" because according to Nello of diary of the Nello, I am, "BRILLIANT! So. Smart. And so funny."

I am humbled at receiving the honor! I would think if anything this blog is the primary outlet for my stupidity, as opposed to being "brilliant" or "smart." But hey, I respect Nello's opinion of pretty much everything else, so I suppose I'll defer to her on this one because I guess I'm not the best person to judge the merits of my own blogging.

I guess part of this whole deal is that I'm supposed to point out those who I think of as rockin' girl bloggers, and award them the same honor. Based on the fact that these are supposed to be girl bloggers all the fellas out there are going to have to cry themselves to sleep tonight because they could not be considered for the honor. (Sorry boys... If you don't have a vagina all your own, you weren't even considered... But I'm sure that there will come a time when I can bestow all of my accolades and praises on you as well, but today is not that day.)

So here are my winners for Rockin' Girl Bloggers (in random order)

1.) Debbie of Fresh Air Lover - Debbie is a survivor. She kicks ass and takes names. She is brutally honest and doesn't care what anyone thinks. She is awesome, that's all there is to it. The world needs more people like Deb! (Oh, and she just got a new kitten!)

2.) Nello of diary of the Nello - Yeah, she already won the honor, but I'm just being honest about who I think are the rockinest girl bloggers out there. She's been battling her own health obstacles, and she wrangles two of the cutest children on the planet, but she manages to do it with such panache and wit that I marvel at her with every post!

3.) Brenda of Planet Brenda- Brenda cracks my shit up! She could crack me up strictly using her photo editing skills, (and where she FINDS half of these pictures only she knows!) But she composes well informed posts about the outside world as well as great posts about the events of her own life. And let's not even get her started on music, because she's got a hard rockin' playlist over there!

4.) Jay of Kill the Goat - Goats are creepy, but Jay is not. She does somehow manage to attract all kinds of creeps though! (Just ask her about Tito!) She's incredibly funny, and her level of writing is, quite frankly, what I aspire to. I've neglected her. I love her though. She is awesome and such a strong woman.

5.) Elaine of Sanity Interrupted - How could the tales of a self-described midget married to a viking not be awesome and absolutely hilarious? It's not possible! Elaine proves this. She cracks me up, and in my humble opinion, bitch knows what's funny in pop culture.

6.) Holly of Help Me Bubba - She might not post often, but when she does, LOOK OUT! The girl has a wider selection of hilarious poop stories than anyone I've ever known.

I got tagged...

Sarah over at Sector 9 tagged me.

I'm not big on the memes, but for lack of anything better to post about, I'll totally participate.

The concept for this one is to tell 8 facts about yourself... This isn't really anything new. I give you all facts all the time. Then we're supposed to tag 8 people. I'm not going to bother tagging anyone else, because well, if you want to do it, you'll do it, but I'm not going to force you into it!

Here goes!

1.) I love fresh basil. LOVE IT. To an alarming degree. This was an addiction I fed regularly when I was a flower slinger. As flower slingers we were also responsible for organizing and maintaining the veggies and herbs... So when the fresh ones came in, I could regularly be found flicking the basil plants so that I could sniff them... I was also occasionally known to carry one little basil plant around with me so that I had something to sniff while I was working on other things. And when I go to REAL pizza places or sandwich joints where they have fresh basil, I request EXTRA EXTRA basil, much to the irritation of people who wait on me. And before you think this carries over to all basil, I should note that the dried ground up crap they have available in the spice aisles around here is GROSS. And it doesn't taste the same when you're cooking with it either! It's fresh or not at all!

2.) I hate mustard. Again, to an alarming degree. Even just the smell of it can make me wretch. There is only one way that I will voluntarily eat mustard, and that is when it is made into honey mustard. Even with honey mustard, I've only found two restaurants that make a honey mustard I can consume without the urge to vomit.

3.) My two main focuses of college study were psychology and art. (These are the subjects I hold degrees in.) The thing that drew me to these subjects of study, (in addition to the fact that I've always had a bit of a knack for them, and you often enjoy studying something you're good at,) was that no matter how much you learn about them, there are always surprises. It's impossible to ever see it all or to know it all. I have heard the quote that says something to the effect of, "A wise man only knows that he knows nothing." That's how I like to approach life, and psychology and art just seem to fit so well with this life philosophy because no matter how much you know, there are always going to be surprises and new things to discover.

4.) I don't presently have any tattoos. I do want one though. Only a small group of my friends and a few members of my family know what it is that I want and where... I don't know why I haven't gotten it yet. I have wanted the same thing for long enough that I'm pretty sure I won't regret it the way so many butterfly-and-flower-inked women do these days.

5.) A friend of mine recently came over to see my apartment for the first time. As she oohed over my new furniture and got her first look at my place, she said something that I took as the highest compliment. She said, "It smells so clean!" I am happy that my apartment smells clean. It means that I'm not just putting up a clever facade. Looking clean can be managed easily enough, but smelling clean takes active involvement in the maintenance of the environment. (Now, my apartment LOOKS clean too, but the fact that a friend tells me that it SMELLS clean is something I take real pride in.)

6.) I might be somewhat of an odd duck, but when reading a book, or while watching movies, I guess you could say that I over-empathize with characters. This is not the fact I'm noting, rather, when a character in a book or a movie does something embarrassing and I get embarrassed for them out of empathy, to the point where I want to crawl under a rock on their behalf, I ABSOLUTELY HATE that feeling. I suppose it balances out the fact that I am so seldom embarrassed for the stupid stuff I wholeheartedly admit that I do every day... Or maybe I'm just so desensitized to my own stupidity that it doesn't matter, but when I can't avoid seeing others embarrassed, even when it is fictional, it bothers me to an unnerving degree.

7.) When my parents divorced, my mom thought it would be a good idea for my brother and I to have counseling sessions. There were individual sessions, and group sessions, and I attended them, but didn't give them much credit or thought. If you were to ask anyone about this time in my family, I was widely regarded as the one who handled it the best, and in the most calm and rational manner. Even looking back on it now, I don't think they provided me with much that was useful to me at the time. At present I am grateful for them though, because it helps to give me an insight into the way that other kids might have perceived the divorce of their parents, and it helps me to relate to kids when doing things like juvenile mentoring which is something that they now pay me for.

8.) I have traveled a fair amount, though nowhere near as much as I would like. I've been to Europe, but I've never seen anywhere in the U.S. west of the Rockies. I've never seen the Pacific ocean. I'd immensely like to remedy this. I don't see it happening any time soon though.

I have a day off???

I've been a busy bee despite my recent bout with illness. I'm sure that I don't have to tell any of you that it's a hell of a lot harder to actually recuperate when you're trying to get things done in spite of being sick. But I am feeling somewhat better, even though my nasty, phlegm-ridden cough would imply otherwise. (I would give my right arm to get through a night where I don't wake up at least once hacking up a lung just once this week!)

But in all the hubub and turmoil lately, I totally neglected to note something to myself! I HAVE A FRICKIN' DAY OFF! A REAL ONE! I am ready to piss myself with excitement. [For those of you keeping track, I have not had a real day off since starting this job back in February... I worked Memorial day weekend to ensure I would have the extra day to take off for my upcoming family reunion (and the longtime readers can tell you just how much fun that is every year, so obviously it will be worth taking a personal day to attend!)] But in light of my recent illness, and the fact that monthly reports are going to be due again on the 5th, I elected to take my 4th of July as a real honest day off! (And like I noted before, I'm so excited, I think a little bit of pee just came out!)

It's probably going to be spent working on my monthly reports, but hey, that means I don't have to stay up all night AFTER WORKING A FULL DAY like I usually do. So that'll be a nice change of pace. I mean it's the 4th of July, so a great deal of businesses will be closed. It's not like I do anything fun anymore anyway. I mean, I know I was encumbered this weekend by an increased need for sleep to fight this stupid cold, but seriously I spent my weekend sleeping, doing laundry, watching Sex and the City DVDs while working on my standard weekly paperwork, and cleaning my apartment. A barrel of laughs, I know! (I blame the unemployment stint for this! Because not only did I have to relocate to a place where there isn't much of interest going on, I also grew so used to not being able to do anything that now I'm content not doing much even now that I can.)

I suppose that I could post pictures of my apartment, and of that party I attended, but since I've got a bona fide post on my hands right now, and I don't have much else of interest to post about this week, I'll save it for another day.

(Momma is in Alabama visiting the fam down there... I am a sad panda because I didn't get to go this time!)

I hope you all have a lovely week!

Oh, and since I've got you here, does anyone know what's going on with Postsecret? There was no update this week, a comment section was opened, and the details for sending secrets has been taken down... There is widespread speculation that Frank has given it up without warning. I am concerned! I LOVE POSTSECRET!

As it should be!!!

The title of this post is not in any way related to my current health status, which is certainly NOT as it should be. (I'm fucking miserable.)

No, the title is actually tied to a little thing I found through James' blog.

Basically, I found out that my blog earned an NC-17 rating. SEE?



I'm pleased that this is the rating I've earned. It's only fitting that my page is not fit to be viewed by minors. Personally I thought I was more in the PG-13, bordering on R rating range... (I checked out a few other blogs to see how I compared, and I just gotta say, DAMN, there's no way that D-Listed is only an R rating!) It makes my sick ass a little happier knowing I rank amongst the finest smut on the web!!

SICK.

I am ill.

I have been feeling run down recently, and today it hit me like a ton of bricks. I still worked a full day, but dammit it SUCKED.

I think I've got one of those nasty summer colds, stuffed to the gills with ugly symptoms including a nasty sore throat, swollen tonsils, an alternating stuffy and runny nose, fatigue, body aches, and that gross stuffed head compounded with headaches. Add in the lovely "female trouble" symptoms, and well, you get one miserable Lizzle.

I'm downing midol, theraflu, and nyquil like it's nobody's business!

Basically, don't expect me to be my usual blogging self for a few days... Though I know I've left you all hanging a lot lately anyway. At least now I have a pretty valid reason.

In unrelated news, the topic of today's staff meeting was kind of odd. It was a kind of "getting to know you" day. Basically, a supervisor ran down a list of offbeat little questions to get us to acknowledge little-known facts about ourselves. (For example, I was singled out on the question, "who is wearing an article of clothing that someone else purchased?" Since I was wearing a UCSC t-shirt that a friend bought for me in college, I raised my hand. The meeting leader then asked if the friend who bought it went to UCSC. I said no, she went to college with me... She bought it for me because it was my birthday and I liked the mascot. I think any school that has the stones to make a banana slug it's mascot is worth advertising.) This probably doesn't really interest you... I know that I was kind of bitter when I'd dragged myself out of bed for a staff meeting to hear this malarkey instead of something useful for actually dealing with clients. But it did provide for a pretty good quote of the day.

QOTD:

Kris: "Has anyone ever won a prize for anything?"
Dustin: "When I was in third grade, I won a hog calling contest."
Kris: "UHH, Ok... Dustin, would you like to demonstrate? I mean how exactly does one call a hog?"
Dustin: "You flip it the bird and say, 'GET THE HELL OVER HERE YOU STUPID PIG!' I could demonstrate, but I don't think it's appropriate for a staff meeting."

Mission accomplished.

I set out on Saturday with only a couple of goals in mind.

1: Get to that first appointment on time... 7:00 comes awfully early.

2: Get through the day's appointments without incident.

3: Make it to the party hosted by a coworker, and get DRUNK.

4: Spend Sunday in bed, nursing a well-earned hangover.

I'm proud to say that I accomplished all of my goals. I was early for that first appointment. They ended up cancelling anyway, (which kind of pissed me off because after all, I'd dragged my ass out of bed at that ridiculous hour.) I made it through the remainder of my appointments without choking any children, or their parents. I made it to the party in time to see the whiffle ball tourney get rained out by a torrential downpour. This, of course, meant that we had to occupy our time with other endeavours. And so, the flippy cup and beer pong tournaments filled the gap. It also helped me to achieve goals three and four. And it was glorious. Well, the hangover wasn't really so much "glorious" as it was wretched, but the headache notwithstanding, spending the day in bed was a delight.

There will be party pictures, and apartment pictures, and all sorts of other amusements, but I am too lazy to go to the trouble of uploading them right now. Go ahead and flog me in the comments, I'm a lazy asshole. I'm over it.

I'll leave you with a QOTD!

Erin: "Drew, you're messed up! And so is Ben. Who is driving you home?"
Drew: "Oh we're both driving! This time I get the pedals!"

I'm sorry!

I have deprived you all of my awesomeness for a week now! My apologies!

I've been busy with craziness at the office, which I will fill you in on later. It's not really an excuse, but I spend all day doing visits and documenting stuff using my computer, so when I get home, the last thing I want to do is sit down with the computer again for much of anything... In fact the first thing at the top of my list most evenings is showering, followed promptly by either popping in a movie or reading a book for a little while, which is usually very shortly followed by sleep.

This weekend one of my coworkers is planning a whiffle ball tournament/kegger. I am lucky enough to finish my Saturday visits in time to take part in the tourney, and even if I couldn't get in on the tourney, the drinking should keep up for much of the evening, and we all know that the Lizzle is down with that. Long story short, I plan on being hungover on Sunday.

I should like to note that apparently bitching pays off, because my dining set came in this week, 3 weeks ahead of the scheduled late arrival date. This means that I will soon be giving you a photo tour of casa de Lizzle. Because I know that you all want to see me living like a high roller.

In conjunction with the arrival of my dining set, I feel obligated to point out that my mom is frickin awesome because we got a table weighing 56 kilograms (I'm not even gonna try the metric conversion on that...) across my courtyard, up the stairs, and into my apartment! Mom did more of the work on that one, so she gets a super shout out. HOLL-ER!

I will get back to you all soon, I promise!

I'll leave you with a QOTD:

Liz: "Hey guys! What's shakin'?"
Drew: "Oh nothing... Just parents with infants, but that's why we all have jobs, so we can't really complain!"
Liz: "WOW! That was wildly inappropriate and highly amusing at the same time! Good job!"
Drew: "Yeah, well, I like to do my part."

Because I can...

I was over at Nello's Blog, and she participated in a Meme all about how weird she was. I don't think Nello is weird at all. I don't mean to downgrade any of her statements but I hardly think her weird things are really all that weird. They are certainly things that make Nello, well... Nello, but I don't think they make her weird.

In the interest of participation, I will go ahead and take part in the overall concept of the Meme, but instead of saying that these are things that make me WEIRD, I'm just saying that this is what makes me Lizzle... And thus, (like Nello and her list) these are the things that make me AWESOME!

1.) I might be in my mid 20's, but I still eat foods commonly found in the repertoire of ten year olds. These foods include bagel bites, kool aid, Count Chocula cereal, and fruit roll-ups, among other things. I don't know what this says about me, and I don't particularly care.

2.) I'm a huge nerd when it comes to movies. If I see a good movie, I will buy it, and watch it repeatedly. And then I'll watch it a few times with the commentary track(s) on. And then I'll look up facts, quotes, errors, and other fun things about it on IMDB.com. I LOVE watching movies over and over, long after other people have tired of them... Of course, I do the same thing with my music, often leaving the same CD in my car stereo for weeks on end. (This time spent reviewing previously watched movies, and previously heard albums probably limits my exposure to new and different things, but hey, I know what I like...) Unless I find a movie/music nerd to date me, I see this becoming a problem in future serious relationships because I know how much it bothers other people that I do this.

3.) I make faces all the time... Even when people aren't around to appreciate them, when people are around but aren't paying attention, and in situations when it's probably inappropriate. I often get caught sitting in the computer room at my office making a fish face, crossing my eyes, and other similar odd facial expressions... And half the time I don't even realize I'm doing it until someone starts giggling at me.

4.) I have an odd fascination with other people's facial features. Long ago I heard a theory that every person's face could be lumped into one of four categories. (Those categories being, dinosaurs, rodents, dogs, and birds.) Ever since hearing this theory, whenever I meet someone new, or even just seeing a stranger in passing, I tend to examine them long enough to assign them to a category... Also whenever I see strangers in passing, I often wonder if they look that way all the time.

5.) I immensely enjoy picking things up using my toes. This might indicate to some of you that I am merely too lazy to bend over to pick things up by hand, but I assure you that on occasion I exert a great deal more effort to pick something up with my toes than I would by using my hands merely to prove to myself I can do it without using my hands... In a way I am merely practising for an otherwise unforeseen debilitating accident whereby my arms are ripped off at the shoulders... My karma has kicked me around long enough that I'm pretty sure that one day this will happen some way or another.

6.) I hate setting and/or re-setting clocks. Unfortunately for me, I hate that blinky 12:00 and find it even more irritating than resetting things. In point of fact, if you were to stumble into my apartment, and look at the alarm clock in my bedroom, you'd find it running 12 minutes fast. This is not a ploy to get me out of bed earlier, it's just that while setting it initially, I just sped through the actual time and instead of taking the time to cycle through and get the time right, I just looked at the clock, threw my hands up in the air, and said, "Fine, if you want to be wrong, BE WRONG. I don't care. But I'm not wasting my time trying to change you anymore." I have seen this utterance as a theme in my relationships with men as well. Go figure.

So, what are a few of the things that make you so awesome... Other than the fact that you're a reader here, obviously.

The bartender is rich... The Lizzle is still a lowly social worker...

I checked the bartender's email. DAMN! I gotta say, in addition to the 12.5 million I was getting from that first banking scam, I'm also expecting 35 million from another banking scam, and 4 million from "international lottery winnings." Seriously, I got three e-mails in the 24 hours after that last post, and they were all pretty much the same tone... And they apparently got my e-mail without reading the post it was solicited from, because they all seemed to think I was a damned fool. You bitches have been around a while. You all know that I am NOBODY'S fool.

Speaking of which, while working in my full time gig as a social worker, I've noted that I am frequently lied to... And I don't want to toot my own horn here, but I have picked up on it every time... But let's face it, when you're in a position where you have a case worker, it's pretty tough to lie and not get caught, because we have all the resources we need to check out your story, and well, WE DO. If you're getting services from multiple social service agencies, and we all know about each other, I hate to give away the trade secret here, but I will... WE. TALK. TO. EACH. OTHER... WE ALL KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON. We might be good at building a repoire with you, and making you think we're friends and all, but when you've signed a consent form stating that we can discuss your case with other people on your case, WE'RE GOING TO. (We cover our bases with that consent form SPECIFICALLY for that reason.)

Anyway... I haven't noted much on a personal level lately...I'll update you, hopefully without boring you... So here goes.

1. Last week we played softball against the department of child services. (This was the specific reason we got into this particular league.) We demolished them. Final score 17-3. I had a double, a single, and a ground-out.

2. That hygiene case I've got? It turns out that it's the saddest case I've seen so far. The other day I went to see them and they noted that they didn't have bread or toilet paper. I went and bought them bread and toilet paper, and based on the look I got from the little girl in the house, you'd have thought I was Santa Claus and the Easter bunny rolled into one. She was utterly amazed that I would go and buy them bread and toilet paper. She was as excited about a few rolls of toilet paper as a lot of kids would have been to get a pony, or a playstation or something.

3. The Sopranos ended the other night... A lot of you are saying, "So what." Most people I know haven't watched The Sopranos in years. The few people I do know who still watch it were pissed off at the ending... As it seems to be a major topic of discussion lately, and since I don't watch enough TV to warrant having cable, let alone premium channels, I tracked down the ending on Youtube. Youtube has since deleted it. See? Anyway... For those of you who haven't seen it and are still waiting to view it on your tivo, skip ahead to #4. (There be spoilers ahead!) Ok, so the rest of you have either seen it, heard about it, or don't really give a rat's pink ass. Personally I fall in the last category. But since I watched the youtube copy of the ending before the deletion, I will give you my take. Tony and his posse are sitting at a table eating onion rings and as his daughter walks in, YOWZA! THE SCREEN GOES BLACK. You wanna know what I think? I think that the writer (who in the future is likely to see people burning all his former writing credits in effigy) was using this ending as a social commentary. Here's what I think really happened. Tony and his crew functioned out of New Jersey, right? And they have banned trans-fats in New York, right? Well, I think that since they were in Jersey instead of NYC, Tony and the other folks were eating onion rings cooked in trans-fat-ridden oils, and they all silently collapsed on the table as a result of massive heart attacks. The end. The writers just want you to stop listening to Journey music and enjoy healthier snacks.

4. I am pissed off because my dining room table still hasn't arrived. We were told when we paid for it that it was on order. (Note: this was in late APRIL.) We were told it would be in sometime in early May. I was fine with that at the time, well, considering we still hadn't gotten a call seeing when they could deliver it, we went into the store to see what was up.

"Uhh, yeah, it probably won't be in until early July."
"Early July? That's ridiculous! I was told it would be two weeks, now you're saying it will total TWO MONTHS?"
"Well, we've got two in the store, but you're fifth on the list for this store... and nationally we've got 441 coming in in a couple weeks... Let's see, you're #371. So you should get yours about July 7th."
"You must be joking."
"No."
"And seeing as it's been more than a month already, when were you planning on letting me know that I wasn't going to have a place to sit and eat dinner FOR ANOTHER MONTH?"
"Well someone should have called you."
"Well, they didn't... And while I don't mean to shoot the messenger on this one, you're the only one here, and we're unhappy... So what are you prepared to do about it?"
"I can give you 10% off... That's the best I can do."
"Well then do that, and know we're pissed off because you already have our money and you're trying to jerk us around."
(These bastards are the only ones who are standing between you crazy assholes and a photographic tour of my awesome new furniture in my fabulous apartment in a less than fabulous city.)

5. The wonk has returned with a vengeance. It was so bad that I skipped the mandatory staff meeting this morning because I had a NASTY case of the wonk coupled with unexplained nausea. (And no, there's not even a remote chance I am pregnant, unless it was an immaculate conception, so just drop that idea.)

6. Speaking of pregnancy, I found out that my best friend in this neck of the woods is having a boy... I promptly went out and bought things once I found out the sex.

7. Jamie has been waiting on a letter from me. I wrote one initially, and it was delayed because my retarded ass couldn't make it to the post office to make sure it was covered as far as international postage was concerned. Since then it has been further delayed, because I wanted to wait long enough to send a gift with it, but the gift was special ordered... I assure you Jay, I have not forgotten you. Your letter and gift ARE coming.

8. I've consumed 2 bottles of wine while composing this post. And I need to get to bed now, because I have to meet with my supervisor in the morning. But before I go, does anybody know what happened to Laurie over at beauty and the beer? She just up and disappeared! I was a regular reader of that mess, and I saw no indication that she was giving it up... but BAM... Her blog is gone! Help a sister out!

I love you sluts!

Ciao!

The Bartender does the African Bank Scam...

I was checking the ol' e-mail account and wouldn't you know it, the bartender has struck it rich! Details in the e-mail below!

FROM MRS BINTU AZIZ,
BILL AND EXCHANGE MANAGER,
FOREIGN REMITTANCE DEPT,
BANK OF AFRICA (BOA),
OUAGADOUGOU, BURKINA FASO.


MY DEAR,

I AM MRS. BINTU AZIZ, THE BILL AND EXCHANGE MANAGER AT THE FOREIGN EXCHANGE DEPARTMENT OF BANK OF AFRICA (BOA) OUAGADOUGOU IN BURKINA FASO. WITH DUE RESPECT AND REGARDS, I HAVE DECIDED TO CONTACT YOU ON A BUSINESS TRANSACTION THAT WILL BE VERY BENEFICIAL TO BOTH OF US AT THE END OF THE TRANSACTION.DURING MY INVESTIGATION AND AUDITING IN MY DEPARTMENT, I CAME ACROSS A VERY HUGE SUM OF MONEY BELONGING TO A DECEASED PERSON, A FOREIGNER WHO DIED IN A PLANE CRASH WITH HIS ENTIRE FAMILY.PLEASE THIS IS A CONFIDENTIAL MATTER AND IT REQUIRES URGENCY.


THE FUND HAS BEEN IN HIS ACCOUNT WITH THE BANK WITHOUT ANY CLAIM OF THE FUND IN OUR CUSTODY EITHER FROM HIS FAMILY OR RELATION BEFORE OUR DISCOVERY TO THIS DEVELOPMENT.ALTHOUGH PERSONALLY, I KEPT THIS INFORMATION SECRET WITHIN MYSELF TO ENABLE THE WHOLE PLANS AND IDEA BE PROFITABLE AND SUCCESSFUL DURING THE TIME OF EXECUTION. THE AMOUNT INVOLVED IS USD$12.500, 000 (TWELVE MILLION FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND U.S DOLLARS.) MEANWHILE THE WHOLE ARRANGEMENT AND DIRECTIVES NEEDED TO PUT CLAIM OVER THIS FUND AS THE NEXT OF KIN TO THE DECEASED WILL BE FORWARD TO YOU UPON YOUR ACCEPTANCE. INFORMATION WILL BE RELEASED TO YOU AS SOON AS YOU INDICATE YOUR INTEREST AND WILLINGNESS TO ASSIST ME AND ALSO BENEFIT YOURSELF TO THIS GREAT BUSINESS OPPORTUNITY.

IN FACT I COULD HAVE DONE THIS DEAL ALONE BUT BECAUSE OF MY POSITION IN THIS COUNTRY AS A CIVIL SERVANT, WE ARE NOT ALLOWED TO OPERATE A FOREIGN ACCOUNT AND WOULD EVENTUALLY RAISE AN EYE BROW ON MY SIDE DURING THE TIME OF TRANSFER BECAUSE I WORK IN THIS BANK. THIS IS THE ACTUAL REASON WHY IT WILL REQUIRE A SECOND PARTY OR FELLOW WHO WILL FORWARD CLAIMS AS THE NEXT OF KIN TO THE BANK AND ALSO PRESENT A FOREIGN ACCOUNT WHERE HE WILL NEED THE MONEY TO BE TRANSFERRED INTO ON HIS REQUEST AS IT MAY BE, AFTER DUE VERIFICATION AND CLARIFICATION TO DESIGNATED BANK ACCOUNT.

YOU CAN SEE THE WEBSITE BELOW COVERING THE PLANE CRASH BY CNN & BBC
NEWS.

http://www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/africa/12/26/benin.crash

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/3348109.stm

I WILL NOT FAIL TO INFORM YOU THAT THIS TRANSACTION IS 100% RISK FREE. ON SMOOTH CONCLUSION OF THIS TRANSACTION, YOU WILL BE ENTITLED TO 40% OF THE TOTAL SUM AND 10% WILL BE SET ASIDE FOR EXPENSES INCURED DURING THE BUSINESS WHILE 50% WILL BE FOR ME. YOU HAVE BEEN ADVISED TO KEEP TOP SECRET AS I AM STILL IN SERVICE AND INTEND TO RETIRE FROM SERVICE AFTER I CONCLUDE THIS DEAL WITH YOU.

I WILL BE MONITORING THE WHOLE SITUATION HERE IN THE BANK UNTIL YOU CONFIRM THE MONEY IN YOUR ACCOUNT AND ASK ME TO COME DOWN TO YOUR COUNTRY FOR SUBSEQUENT SHARING OF THE FUND ACCORDING TO PERCENTAGES PREVIOUSLY INDICATED AND FURTHER INVESTMENT, EITHER IN YOUR COUNTRY OR ANY OTHER COUNTRY YOU MAY ADVICE ME TO INVEST IN. ALL OTHER NECESSARY INFORMATION WILL BE SENT TO YOU WHEN I HEAR FROM YOU. I SUGGEST YOU GET BACK TO ME AS SOON AS POSSIBLE STATING YOUR WISH IN THIS DEAL.

PLEASE REPLY TO MY MASSAGE BY INDICATING YOUR BANK ACCOUNT DETAILS WHERE THE FUND WILL BE TRANSFERED TO. ALSO, SEND ME YOUR PRIVATE PHONE NUMBER FOR EASY COMMUNICATION.YOU SHOULD CONTACT ME IMMEDIATELY AS SOON AS YOU RECIEVE THIS LETTER.

YOURS FAITHFULLY,
MRS BINTU AZIZ

Seeing as I have to do so little and I'm getting my grubby little paws on $5,000,000 ... I say AWESOME! But I would like to take a few minutes to address Mrs. Bintu Aziz.

First off, Mrs. Aziz, please don't initially address me as "My dear" because let's just get this one thing straight, you don't know me well enough to find me dear to you, and I'm strictly a dick chick, so you need to get that dear idea out of your head... I'm not going to be the Scarlett to your Rhett. (Frankly, my dear, I DO give a damn.) Furthermore, I am not yours! I can not be owned! Not for any price! (And certainly not for a measly five million.) I might be a bartender, but I'm the best damn bartender this little happy hour has, and I'm happy pouring the shots and mixing the martinis around here... So you just need to step off, and you need to address me with a little more formality, and a little less colloquialism. We're not friends UNTIL you give me my money.

Now that that's taken care of, let's discuss a few other things. First off, if you're typing up e-mails from your bank, it might be a good idea to turn off the caps lock. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who finds that really fucking irritating. Secondly, I realize that you're "in Africa" and that means that there is a pretty strong chance you're trying to imply that English is not your primary language... But if you're going to try to solicit my participation in defrauding people of their money, you'd be well served to get yourself a tutorial in spelling, grammar, and punctuation. Furthermore, if you're trying to entice me into participating, telling me that all the expenses are going to come out of my half of the proceeds is not going to convince me... Either we split the expenses or you pay them, after all, you're the one who apparently needs my help! I mean since the money is going to my account, by all rights, I should legally be keeping the whole amount. I mean I'm the one who is making the claim to be the legal heir to this money. If I can "prove" this, then the money is mine, right? I might pay you a little finder's fee, but that's more at my discretion and personally I think 50% is a little steep.

Let's not even get into the fact that you want me to reply to your "MASSAGE" (Massages are usually reciprocated, and not replied to... but maybe you do things a little differently in Africa,) and that you want my phone number and banking information. I'm only giving you my phone number after you've bought me a drink or two, and you're promising to buy me a lobster dinner. As for my banking information, well, I tell you what, you send me all your banking information, I'll drain your accounts and hold your money hostage until I get my $12,500,000... Once I've drained you of all your money, I'll give you a number to a totally empty account, where you can put my money. Once I get my money, I'll give your money back free and clear, no questions asked, and I'll even add in a little extra for that finder's fee we discussed. It'll all work out just as we planned! It'll be great! And I won't even submit all your information to the FBI so that you can be investigated for fraud!

(Do people really buy into these scams? I mean I know that these things are continually circulated because there is a tiny margin of success in taking advantage of the gullible, elderly, unsuspecting, and overly trusting people of the world, but really, haven't Dateline and 60 Minutes covered this enough that people know better than to dole out banking information like it's day old bread being cast out to the masses?)

That's just weird...

I came home after work tonight, changed out my shower head (because the standard one at my apartment SUCKED) and had a glass of wine with my mom... And then my dad called.

"Uhh, hey, it's me, your dad."

"Yeah, I know who you are... what's going on?"

"Well, your uncle and I are still working on some stuff, but your brother was planning on meeting us at some bar in like an hour... You coming?"

"Um, an hour? I guess I can come out for a bit."

"Great! We'll see you there... Oh, and Lisa's coming too!"

"Ok. I'll see you in a bit."

So I went out with my dad, my uncle, my brother, and my future sister in law. And we had a couple of rounds... And then we started playing Golden Tee.

Long story short, I went out for FAAAAR longer than I'd intended.

I have a visit that starts at 8, which means I've got to pick kids up starting at 7:30... And considering it's 2 now, I'm going to be DRAGGING ASS alllllllllllllllllllll day.

Basically, it's going to suck.

And my last case of the day is a drop in on the hygiene case. LOVELY... But at least I can shower immediately afterwards! (Because that house is fucking disgusting, and you seriously feel the NEEEEED to shower when you come within 30 yards of it!)

I'm a little tipsy, so I guess the title is related to the fact that I just find it so odd that I'm going out boozing with the elder members of my family... It just seems so wrong to see the people I once looked up to as these pinnacles of class and taste just drinking, smoking, and playing Golden Tee like the rest of the masses! (My dad and uncle both cracked a couple of jokes at the expense of my uncle who died about 18 months ago... That was awkward, but the jokes were funny.)

C'est la vie.

The Bartender lets the dog out... (And doesn't mind if the dog gets hit by an 18 wheeler...)

A customer came into the bar today... Knowing that this particular bartender was famous for dispensing the occasional pearl of wisdom, the customer laid out her tale. The bartender just shook her head and smiled. The bartender lives for moments like this. The advice is just so easy...

The patron's tale:

Dear Bartender:

This guy from the U.K. has been chatting me up online for 7 or 8
months online. I didn't think too much of it at first, but after
awhile I found myself looking forward to his emails, and we
corresponded almost daily. We weren't discussing romance yet, but I
was starting to feel that this was leading somewhere.

He recently went on a vacation, and when he came back he sent me some
pictures from his trip. He appeared in some of these pictures, and
everything was fine except for the SMALL but IMPORTANT fact that....he
forgot to take his wedding band off!

Well Bartender, you could have knocked me over with an empty shot
glass! Being married is usually one of the first five things you
reveal to someone when you meet them. I wasn't sure what to do at
first but I finally decided to just be upfront and ask him "Hey, are
you married?" Well I got back this long email explaining that he is
separated (for four years) and that he "just isn't comfortable taking
his ring off yet (after four years)."

Now Bartender, I was born at night but it wasn't LAST night! I
realize now that being a dawg is a worldwide phenomena. I realize
that he is 99.9% most likely to be lying his ass off.
My question is.....should I continue to be a friend or just blow off
his emails from now on?

Signed,
No, We Didn't Have Cybersex

Well, there are three ways to play this... I know which way I'd go, but seeing as you're an adult living in a free country I'm going to lay out all of your options and you can take your pick.

Option 1: You can deny all the good sense I know that you have and you can buy into his bullshit story. In which case you'd carry on as you have been doing, pretend like that wedding band isn't there, and if you were to carry on for long, eventually putting your heart on the line, I'm placing a strong bet on the fact that you'll eventually be back in here to drown your sorrows once the bastard took that heart of yours and stomped on it like the ass-hat that I already know he is. Based on the fact that you noted that his explanation was rather lengthy, I will bring up a point that I learned in my first week on the job, usually when you get into long stories that seem a little hinky, it's because they are total and complete malarkey. Trust your gut on that one. The long stories are the over-exaggerations of a BAD LIAR. Furthermore, you quoted him as saying he is "separated" and not "DIVORCED" and based on the fact that he WAS WEARING A WEDDING RING, I think it's safe to assume that he is not "on the market" in the classical sense. Even in the HIGHLY UNLIKELY event that his story is true, and that he is not really with the woman he married anymore, the fact that he's still wearing the ring after four years should be a GIANT RED FLAG indicating that he's got some serious relationship hang ups, and given that you know that going in, you will have no one to blame but yourself when he eventually fucks you over. This is a handy segue into your next option.

Option 2: You can maintain your good sense, and you can play it straight with him. You can tell him that you don't believe his retarded ass story for one second. You can tell him that you didn't fall off the turnip truck this morning, and that if he thinks you would buy into a line that lame that he clearly has no respect for your intelligence. You can tell him that you are ok with being internet friends, but that it stops at that. (I'm betting that if he hears any of this he'll realize that you're onto his sorry ass game, and that he'll probably stem his dialogue with you and pursue others who clearly lack the good sense to kick his lying ass to the curb.) The only reason I'm even presenting this as an option is that if you keep your wits about you and constantly remind yourself that you're dealing with a lying sack of shit, you can continue talking to him... I mean if you're sensible about it, there's no reason that you absolutely have to deny yourself the only pleasure that you could ever get from him, that, of course, being pleasant conversation and nothing more. But like I said before, I have the distinct feeling that this guy is looking for an easy mark to lead on, and if he knows you're wise to him, he'll most likely head for the hills and he'll be tougher to locate than Bin Laden... Men are predictable that way.

Option 3: You can maintain your good sense as well as your self respect and blow him off. This is the cynical option, but it has its base in logic. Remember that classic old line that your mother told you when you got your heart broken in junior high? "There are plenty of fish in the sea?" That's the one. The fact is that this guy didn't play it straight with you. You know it. He knows it. And unless he's particularly dense, he knows you know it. This means that you're not even an official item, you're merely friends, and he's already lying his ass off and making lame excuses, and that he expects you to be dumb enough to buy it. Why lie to your friend? Why conceal something that big? Think about it... Not a particularly strong or healthy way to open things up, is it? Yeah, he's one of those Europeans who thinks that all Americans are stupid. As an American I'll be the first to hand it to him that A LOT of Americans are really REALLY dumb... (I mean something like 39 million of my fellow citizens voted for the king of all retards and said, "HE IS THE BEST RETARD WE'VE GOT! LET HIM LEAD US!") But we all know YOU'RE not dumb. You come by to see what the bartender has to say on so many things on a regular basis. You understand the humor. You have the good sense to waltz in here and consult the bartender on your situation. These things make you a pretty sharp individual. Prove to this fucktard that not ALL Americans are idiots. And whether you blow him off directly by issuing a closing e-mail, or passively by just ignoring him until he goes away, I think we all know you can do better than to associate with this fool. You're an adult... He's acting like you're still two kids in high school. (Back then it was ok, but only because being young and dumb is pretty standard.) But as an adult with real life experience, you should already know that if he doesn't respect you enough to play it straight with you from the start then you need to tell him where he can shove it.

Now, here's a shot on the house. Down it like the champ we all know you are and resolve yourself to doing what needs to be done.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go clean the taps and stock the beer.

========================================

If you have a question for the bartender, please don't hesitate to ask... Write to us at thebartenderspeaks@gmail.com

I learned something today...

My monthly reports were due at 2:00 PM today. I stayed up until 4:30 AM working on them. And in that time, I finished all but one... But the one I didn't finish was the worst one I had to do. (I don't know why I put it off until last, but I think the idea was to have all the other ones done so that in case I didn't finish in time I could say, "Oh, I only had one that was late... All of my other ones were in on time.") But that last one was a monster and at 4:30 AM, I didn't have it in me to get that beast cranked out. Knowing I had to get up at 8 to make it to the 9 AM staff meeting I thought 4:30 was late enough.

This schedule taught me a VERY important lesson. The lesson is that three and a half hours of sleep is not enough to actually do you any good, it's only enough to piss you off when you have to get up.

Long story short, I got to the morning meeting, after which I set myself to the task of getting that last report done and in on time... And I DID! And then I worked 7 billable hours in my afternoon. And now I'm ready to shower and pass the hell out.

And now for your QOTD:

Drew: "...Well, I had a client that had a kid who was something like 89 lbs when he was 3. The kid is 5 now, and whenever I do visits, I'm a little worried when I have to be the disciplinarian. I mean he may only be 5, but I think this kid could possibly kick my ass!"
Brent: "Well, Drew, it doesn't help that you only weigh like 90 lbs now!"
Lori: "YOU HAVE BEEN LOSING WEIGHT! I mean you weren't fat before, but I thought you were looking slimmer, but really you look good!"
Kelly: "How are you losing it? Working out more?"
Drew: "Are you kidding? I work 13 hour days five or six days a week, I've got a wife and two kids under the age of 4. When the hell am I going to work out? ...No, I'm losing my weight the old fashioned way... Slim Fast and Marlboros."

Career shift...

I was putting off working on my monthly reports tonight, watching a little Leno on the only station that my TV has right now, and I got to thinking.

I think the easiest job in the world right now is working as a writer for late night television talk shows. I mean really, between the idiot in the oval office, and all the Hollywood starlets finally reaping what they sow, you know that the writers are all just phoning it in because the jokes practically write themselves.

Britney and her bad weave, Paris and her jail cell, Lindsey all coked up, crashing her car, and then passing out in someone else's car where there is a 30 Day chip hanging in the window... I mean even the slightest mention of Paris going to jail seems to still get a five minute standing ovation from the audience at the moment.

You know those guys are getting paid the big bucks to do something close to nothing at the moment... And you know they don't have to submit monthly reports!

I want THAT job!

The Bartender Does Graduation...

An anonymous patron of the Happy Hour was the first to submit a question for the bartender.

The patron writes:

Hello There!

I have a question for you. I am attending a high school graduation
party this coming weekend, and need to get a gift. I obviously can do
cash or a gift card, but i was wondering if you could remember
something you may have received as a gift, that you enjoyed!!

Well, my dear patron, I am glad you came here in your search for a suitable gift idea! Seeing as this is only a high school graduation, unless the graduate suffered terrible academic failure for a few years of his or her schooling, it's pretty likely that the recipient of this gift is under-age. This obviously rules out alcohol as a gift, which is something that older recipients (particularly recipients who fancy a good drink now and again) would appreciate.

Cash and gift cards present their own specific issues: First off, there is no real mystery as to how much you were willing to spend on a gift. By giving cash or a gift card you are assigning a specific value to the achievement... And let's face facts here, MOST (not all, but certainly most,) high school-ians (yes, I made that word up, deal with it,) are selfish ingrates. It comes with the territory of being young and dumb. Therefore whatever amount you spend on the graduate is in all likelihood going to be mentally (if not overtly) judged as measly. (Like I said, young and DUMB... Obviously they have not yet learned that the world owes them NOTHING and they should be grateful for anything that they don't have to work for.) The second problem that you run into is that cash or a gift card is impersonal and not at all creative. Yes, the recipient can choose what to purchase on their own using the funds you have provided them, but when you are wanting the gift to be memorable, this is hardly the way to go. I have received gifts of cash in my day, and then blown it on whatever I wanted or needed at that particular moment, but if it were even a lasting item I purchased with that money and not, say, a box of tampons, some garbage bags, food items, toilet paper, and shampoo, I can pretty much guarantee that if someone asked me where I got it, I'm telling them that I bought it at store-X, and not saying "Oh, I got that for graduation using the money I got from Wilma and Roy!"

As for memorable gift ideas, I think it largely depends on the recipient. Seeing as this is an academic achievement, and I am always one to encourage continued learning through life, I'd go looking for books. Books are a great gift idea because not only can you give a gift centered on a specific interest of the recipient, you can give them a book that has had a personal impact on you. The fact that you can also inscribe in the front cover a personal message also lends itself to making your gesture a memorable one. Some of the best gifts I've ever gotten were books. And I felt a little more appreciative that the givers took the time to know what I would be interested in reading about. Books are obviously a less feasible option if you're giving a gift to someone who doesn't read, (insert cheap joke about Paris Hilton, or Victoria "Posh" Beckham here,) so you have to judge that one on your own.

Depending on budgetary constraints, you could always opt for a handmade gift. I have saved SO MUCH money by knitting scarves, painting pictures, or assembling other such handicrafts and then giving the items as gifts. This is obviously a better option if you ENJOY doing things of this nature... If you hate all things crafty, then obviously you're not going to want to put in your best effort on the gift, and we all know what happens to shoddy craft projects that were not crafted with the utmost in care and attention to detail... They end up in one of two places, the city dump, or the darkest, dustiest recesses of the least used closet.

If the recipient is someone you are particularly close with, and you don't mind spending a little more on the person, then a simple piece of tasteful jewelry is always memorable. If you take the time to note what the recipient might like, and what they might actually wear and use on a regular basis, it can serve as a reminder of your gesture every time they wear it or are complimented on it.

Another criterion you can use when selecting a gift depends on what the future holds after graduation day. Knowing the grad's plans for the foreseeable future, can lend itself to a myriad of gift options. Is the high schoolian going to college? (For those who are college-bound, money is good, but only if you don't mind your gift being spent at the bookstore on tomes that will instantly lose 87% of their value at the end of the semester whether they were ever opened or not, on a cable bill, or at bars who are less selective about the age of their patrons.) For the college-bound kids, I find that practical gifts are in order, but again you've got to know your audience in order to know what is going to be needed, wanted, and used. For those not going to college, well... I'd say the world is going to be a pretty harsh place. (I'm not saying that there are not people out there who haven't been successful even while lacking a college degree, but speaking from experience, the world is plenty harsh even for those of us who have pursued higher education, and supposedly that degree opened all kinds of doors...) When I graduated high school, I got functional gifts like luggage, film, and other items I was likely to use on a trip that I took not long after I wore my cap and gown. Those were memorable gifts not only because I can recall getting them for graduation, but I also associate them with the good times I had on the trip when I used them.

I guess the key to making a gift memorable is to really key into the recipient. Knowing your audience is the key to making something mundane into something special. I hope I've provided you with a few useful tips and/or ideas when shopping for your gift.

For those of you reading this, what were some memorable gifts you've ever gotten? Did I miss something important? Do you have something else to say on the matter? Leave it in the comments!

This bar is always open, so come back any time to shoot the breeze, get advice, or have yourself a shot!

If you have a question for the bartender, please don't hesitate to ask... Write to us at thebartenderspeaks@gmail.com

DRUNK LIZZLE WOOOOOOO!!!

You all requested the return of the drunk Lizzle... Well, I will happily oblige you!

After I finished work on Saturday I cancelled what little plans I had so that I could just go to bed and not deal with anything. About an hour after I got home and had properly showered to wash off the day I was happily snoozing on my chaise. I heard a knock on my door. There are very few people who know where to find me these days, only 3 people who know where to find me don't actually have keys to the apartment... One of those three was out of town, one was not at all likely to come looking for me. Therefore the source of the knocking was easy to track down after the point when I was too happily napping to get up and actually answer the door. So about a half an hour later when I was ready to get up, I went in search of my neighbor and coworker Erin who was the first and only reasonable option as to the source of the knocking.

So I went to see her, and we hung out in her apartment for a short while. She then got a phone call. It was Jason calling to inquire as to the color of my underwear, and see if we were willing to meet him out at a hole in the wall bar to celebrate a friend's birthday... WELL DUH! Of course we were up for a few rounds!

So I went back to my place, made myself presentable for public viewing, and we went out. It was at this establishment that I found out that three of the people I was drinking with were people with whom I'd attended high school, and had not spoken to since graduation.

Not long after finishing our first round I went to the ladies' room, and as I was walking back to my table, I noticed that my brother and his long time girlfriend were among the other patrons of the bar. (These are the types of odd little coinkie-dinks you come to expect once you're no longer living in a city of 5 million people with countless proper bars to patronize.)

[For the record, this is the point in the post where I elected to take the now infamous "Lizzle drunken shower" which occupied about 40 minutes.]

And so now that I'm back, I'd like to note that now that I'm back, I'm watching Trainspotting, and all I can think of is who among my group of friends I associate with the characters. Since no one else will say it outright, I'm going to... (because a few of you know him,) Ben IS Begbie. If you know Ben, and you've seen Trainspotting, get back to me... I'm sure you must agree.

For the few of you who care, I'll go ahead and tell you that I don't get much in the way of a weekend this week because my regular weekly paperwork is due on Monday, and my monthly reports are due on Tuesday... So I get to take what would be my weekend and spend it doing paperwork for the office... LOVELY!

In other news, I should note that I have had this thing on my eyelid for several months... It was a little bump that just pissed me off merely by being subtly present, without really posing any real issue. In the last week to ten days the bump essentially doubled in size and caused me to make an appointment at an opthamologist's office to get it checked out. (In the interim I have referred to this bump/thing as my eyelid tumor.) Of course two days after I make the appointment, the thing decided to resolve itself... So now I've got an appointment and no real problem. Typical really.


I'm a tired panda. You sluts have a pleasant day, won't you!

Another couple of days that I'm not looking forward to...

My schedule is inadvertently back-end loaded...

Basically, this week my schedule is rockin' the badonkadonk. We've got some serious junk in the trunk.

(FYI: My schedule is a Tuesday through Saturday work week... It's a little odd, but it works.)

Tuesday my whole day cancelled out on me. So I picked up a visit that nobody else wanted because I needed the hours. (We have to bill at least 4 hours a day, and total at least 30 in a week... Usually this is not a problem, but occasionally cancellations will throw you for a total loop.) Wednesday I didn't get started until noon. Today my late visit cancelled on me... Rescheduling appointments that people missed so that I make my hourly quota has caused the next couple of days to be UGLY.

I plan on seeing my hygiene case on Saturday. (Apparently her hygiene is an issue in addition to the cleanliness of her home, which is widely reported to smell like a giant steaming turd.) So far my attempts to contact her have gone unanswered, but I have a feeling when I actually have the time to go see her on Saturday she'll be around... I get this feeling because I know how my luck goes. It'll run out the second I pull up in front of her house. It just will.

Basically the next couple of days will be 12 billable hour days (Which means I'll be working closer to 15 hours a day.) It'll be nice on my paycheck though, because I need a little something coming my way after the last couple of weeks, and the lower hours I turned in!

======================================

In other news, Team Medicated suffered its first loss this evening. A close 5-4 game, in which the Lizzle had an impressive infield double, a single, and an RBI. I was thrown off my game a little bit when I realized that a member of the opposing team was actually the guy who ran my church youth group back when I was in 8th grade. I think I threw him off a little bit too, because he made the discovery as I was catching while he was batting... And Drew struck him out.

I must say that I impressed even myself with the infield double though... I hit the ball, knew that I only had enough on it for a single, but as I slowed up after touching first base, I heard the first base coach yelling stop, but I also saw that the first baseman dropped the ball, so I kept on rolling. (Because like a diesel engine, it might take the Lizzle a little time to get going, but once she's moving, she can ROLL!)

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I would like to note that (per BrendaLove's request) I am adding a new feature to the Happy Hour.

Since we have the friendly neighborhood pub atmosphere going here, and since I have my loyal regulars who belly up to the bar to sample my wares, I'm going to call this feature "The Bartender Speaks!"

This will be an advice-column type of feature where you can submit questions to your friendly neighborhood barmaid, and she will call it like she sees it. All queries for "The Bartender Speaks" should be submitted via email at thebartenderspeaks@gmail.com

I am asking that your questions be submitted via e-mail so that you have the option to request to remain anonymous, or so that I can request further information from you about your situation, problem, etc, as needed. The bartender likes to make informed decisions when giving advice.

I would like to say this will be a weekly feature, but I have no idea how many or how few of you are interested in seeking the advice of this lowly barkeep. So I'll answer questions on a first come, first served basis, just like everything else at the bar, (unless of course you come over waving money at me, in which case you jump the line, because that's how it works at this establishment!)

Well, my readership is down...

I normally don't pay too much attention to the little meter that tells me how many people stop in and read my malarkey. (SEE! I listen to you sluts! I'm already working it in more!) But on a whim I decided to check in and see what my current numbers looked like.

DAMN.

My numbers have plummeted. At the height of this madness I was seeing about 200 people a day. I thought that was pretty good considering I don't do any kind of advertising for this humble little page. Now I'm down to around 50 people a day. That's fine too, as I don't really care who reads this stuff, as it's really more for my own sanity than for you. (Sorry, it's true though.) I will say that I do feel a certain kinship with the loyal readers who have been around since ... well, the beginning. I also love the ones who have picked me up somewhere along the way and just keep coming back for some unknown reason. I mean, hey, if you're liking it enough to keep coming back, I must be doing SOMETHING right.

This got me to thinking. And well, the title is something of a double entendre. Yeah the numbers are lower, but the readers who have stuck it out through the worst of times as well as the times of raucous laughter are certainly down with the Lizzle.

And so this one goes out to you, my lovelies!

I want to make those of you who have your name etched on a bar stool here at the Happy Hour just a little bit happier. So I'll put it to you: what do you all love about the Happy Hour? What do you want to see more of? What could you TOTALLY do without? What topic are you anxious to get a Lizzle opinion on that you haven't seen addressed? Suggestions? Comments? Observations? Go ahead and feel free to let me know what's on your mind! (Because aside from dealing with the crazies who's behavior provides me with billable hours every week, I am intensely boring right now... I want what you want! And that's a happier Happy Hour for all of us!)

Who needs a staff meeting when you’ve got beer?

HOLA, readership! (Whoa, did I just briefly lapse into Spanish 101 there? Why yes I did! … I blame the beer!) In case you are particularly dense, and haven’t caught either of the references to alcohol so far, I will go ahead and point out the obvious.

The Lizzle has been drinking. (And we all know the Lizzle’s tolerance is SOOOO not what it once was.) (For the record, Beth, the Lizzle was only on her second beer when she called you, so technically you don’t fall in the drunk-dial category, in case you were wondering.)

Taking it to another level, the Lizzle has been drinking ALONE. (And she is TOTALLY fine with that fact, but still felt the need to point it out.) (It should be noted at this time that she has also lapsed into speaking, or rather typing, in the third person… Never a good sign.) (And apparently she is HUGE into parenthetical statements at the moment, but that is neither here nor there.)

Yes, its 11:30 P.M. on Memorial Day, and the Lizzle has decided to go ahead and keep on boozing it up even though she has to be at the weekly staff meeting tomorrow morning at 9 sharp. The alcohol induces a deeper sleep, so it should all work out fine.

ANYWAY.

In the interest of being awesome, the Lizzle did very little on her abbreviated Memorial Day weekend. She worked until 7 PM on Saturday… Later than she would have liked, but hey, people are demanding asshats, and part of the job requires that she be somewhat accommodating. She then spent Saturday night watching movies, all day Sunday in bed and/or lounging around the apartment, and since she slept for a large part of Sunday, she was still awake at 7 AM, so she decided to go ahead and take her paperwork over to the office, even though nobody was there to take it, and then she snoozed lightly for a few hours, and proceeded to unpack a few more of the last lingering boxes remaining in the area of the apartment which will eventually be occupied by her dining set once it arrives. She also bought a vacuum cleaner, a really cute votive holder for on top of her entertainment center, and an reed-in-oil-diffuser-potpourri thingy… but I can’t possibly imagine that you could give a crap about any of that.

And since I’ve lapsed back into first person prose, we’ll just run with it.

Since this post is an odd sort of stream-of consciousness, and just an odd little conglomeration of things that you really shouldn’t give a crap about, I suppose I will go ahead and mention that in my very buzzed, bordering on drunk (certainly beyond drivable) state, I have my i-Tunes going, and at the moment, and I can’t think of many songs that have a sexier vibe to them than Imogen Heap’s “Hide and Seek.” You probably don’t give a rat’s pink ass about it, but hey, it’s a free country, I’m not forcing you to read this malarkey.

In the interest of total disclosure, I will go ahead and tell you that I finally found the shelf clips that hold the kitchen cart shelves in place. (They were in a baggie in a box of odds and ends that I’d looked in like 6 times before… I just looked harder this time, I guess.)

Since we’re in the total disclosure category, I guess I will go ahead and tell you about that weekend I had a few weeks ago when all hell broke loose. I’ve been meaning to tell you about it for a while now, and just never got to it, and I suppose that at this point the drunkenness has called it to the front of the mind.

A few weekends ago I casually went looking for one of my clients. I went looking for her at work and found out that she had gotten fired. Instantly I thought, “WELL, CRAP.” And knowing I still had to talk to her, in addition to figuring that this setback would be something that we’d need to discuss, I went looking for her at home. And that’s exactly where I found her. She was devastated, in tears, and from casual observation it was clear that she’d been cutting on herself. She denied it, but I’m no fool.

I had another matter that needed my attention as well, so I told the woman who she was staying with to stay with her, and that I’d be back. I went back to my office, got the other matter taken care of and went back down to see what I could do with the cutter. The cutter was gone by the time I got there, and so I sat and waited for a couple of hours, and then proceeded home when it seemed apparent that she was not going to return. I told the lady she was staying with to have her call me, or to call me herself when she returned.

About 10 minutes after I got home, I got a phone call saying that she was back. So I headed back down to talk with her. When I got there it was clear that while she seemed less upset at that point, she had also been drinking. We talked for a few minutes, and she said that she felt things were hopeless. (At this point my internal monologue went, “Well, FUUUUUUUUCK.”) I told her things were not hopeless and that while we’d hit a low point, there was still a light at the end of the tunnel… But since she’d professed feelings of hopelessness I also had to go through a suicide assessment with her. And so I sat and talked to her for a considerable period about it. And my supervisor went through things with her over the phone. And the supervisor advised me to take her to a hospital to get her checked out. (Easier said than done.) Of course, she refused medical attention. So my supervisor went through the suicide assessment with her over the phone again. He determined that she was not at critical risk, and so it was ok for me to leave. After setting up a verbal agreement that she was to call me before taking any rash action, I left.

You’d think that would have been the main crisis of the week… You’d think wrong.

This whole time that I was dealing with her I was also getting repeated calls from another client saying that the foster placements had not sent adequate clothing with her children for her weekend visit. A large part of me wanted to say, “Listen, I’ve got real problems going on right now… If you need clothes for the kids, Wal-Mart is open 24 hours a day.” But of course I can’t just say that, so I told her I’d see what I could do. –It should be noted that her response to this reply was somewhat less than appreciative. I called the foster placement to see what could be done, and they offered to have clothing available in the morning. I told my client that I would bring the additional clothing from the foster placement in the morning, and she pitched a fit because apparently the children didn’t have pajamas either. (Oh, did I forget to mention that this was at 9 PM on a Friday night?) So, despite the fact that I had the internal monologue of, “You know a big t-shirt works wonders in the pajama department,” I called the foster placement again and mentioned this additional issue and asked if I could come out and get ANYTHING to make this problem go away. They agreed, and I went out to get additional clothing AND pajamas, and I took them to my client. (At this point it was something like 9:40 P.M. on a Friday night.)

Despite my best efforts, apparently the clothing I took to her was insufficient.

As I was leaving her home she said to the kids, “Well, I guess we’re not going anywhere this weekend kids, because you don’t have anything to f-ing wear.” (Lovely thing to say to your kids, especially in front of your service provider.) Let’s not even get into the fact that there was no appreciation whatsoever for the fact that I was willing to deal with this bullshit at damn near 10:00 PM on a Friday night… Or that it was layered in with my suicide assessment lady’s troubles.

So now you have a little bit more clarity and insight into the world of crap me and my bachelor’s degree get to deal with on a fairly regular basis. (Yeah, I only have a bachelor’s degree, and I’m giving suicide assessments… And I skipped class A LOT. How’s that for rational?)

Crap… I still have to get up and go to the staff meeting in the morning. I guess I better wrap up this mess.

G’nite sluts!

Facts about the Lizzle:

1.) The Lizzle works a job where she is technically on-call 24-7.

2.) The Lizzle does not drink as often or as much as she used to.

3.) As a direct result of facts one and two, the Lizzle has actually reverted to a state where she can get a proper buzz from two glasses of cheap red wine.

4.) The Lizzle, and her former tolerance are totally disheartened by fact #3.

5.) You really ought to read the post below... not because it's particularly interesting, but because the Lizzle took the time to lovingly craft the post. (Really... asking for a once-over from you is really not too much to ask, is it?)

I want a long weekend dammit!

My mom came by on Wednesday night. She informed me that she was going to visit my aunt in Alabama, and that she was leaving Thursday morning around 10 AM... Which would mean that she has a FIVE DAY weekend. SERIOUSLY. FIVE DAYS.

Now if anyone has earned a vacation, it's my mom, but she took the geezer with her, so odds are she won't have as relaxing a visit as one might think would come packaged with a FIVE DAY WEEKEND.

I, on the other hand, don't have a long weekend. Instead I get to supervise visits, do parent aide, juvenile mentoring, (honestly, making me a mentor for anyone... It's tantamount to BEGGING on hands and knees for trouble,) and idly dream of the day that I can take a FIVE DAY WEEKEND.

In case you were wondering, it will be a long time before I can take such a luxurious holiday. Instead, I get my standard two day weekend, and a "floating holiday" to use at my leisure within the next 60 days. And I'm thinking I'm going to take it near the end of July to attend the annual family reunion, (also known as drunken family roast 2007).

Though, I will get another floating holiday for the 4th of July, so I can either take a mental health day as I see fit, or I can make that a 4 day weekend!



Team Medicated won again this evening, no thanks to me, as I was trying to pick up some hours, and we had the early game this week, and so I was unable to attend. I'll be back in action next week though, and it's gonna be great... Because my punk ass is totally hitting the batting cages.

In other news, the term "the wonk" is gaining popularity around the office. I mentioned to a couple of coworkers that I've been battling a serious case of the wonk lately, and everyone seemed to thoroughly enjoy the term. It prompted the following conversation:

Liz: "I've got a bad case of the wonk..."
Ann: "The wonk? What's that?
Liz: "It's when you feel just... OFF... You're not sick, but you're just not feeling like yourself."
Ann: "The wonk... I like that term. Though I should tell you that's what it feels like to get old."
Liz: "REALLY???? God! No wonder my grandpa is such a turd!"
Ann: "But really, I think having the wonk is a good thing... It gives you an insight into how our clients feel all the time!
Liz: "Yeah, but they feel this way because they've got the good drugs!"
Ann: "Well, I suppose that having the wonk is better than having The Clap."
Liz: "Or you could be like Barbie and have The HERP!"
Barbie: "Hey! I don't have the herp!"
Liz: "Keep telling yourself that... We all know better. The cold sores and constantly scratching your nether-regions are both dead giveaways."
Barbie: "Dammit Liz, you've figured out my secret."
Ann: "Well now that you've admitted to it, you can't blame her when the rest of the office finds out."

Seriously, considering we're in social services, an industry where many of our clients ACTUALLY have the clap and the herp, we are big into inappropriate humor at the office.

The return of the wonk...

I've had that wonky feeling again today.

I think it has something to do with the fact that my schedule is once again in utter turmoil.

I've tried picking up coverage, but today I hardly had anything on my schedule. I slept until noon, felt lazy and wonky until 4:30, then got down to business and worked until 8.

I can already tell you that my paycheck is going to SUUUUUCK next Friday. I know this because I have been billing upwards of 45 hours a week, and last week I billed 33, and this week isn't looking a whole lot better. And that BLOWS.

I have gotten so desperate that I picked up a parent aide case and had the following conversation:

Barbie: "Here's the paperwork on that parent aide case we discussed. It's a little outdated, but I'll get the new information and put it in your mailbox."

Liz: "Oh, lovely... It says on this one that 'Personal hygiene' is one of the things that we need to work on."

Barbie: "Well, like I said, that one is old. It's possible that that issue has since been resolved."

Kellie: "Actually, no... I met her a few weeks ago... It's still a problem."

Liz: (dripping with sarcasm) "Well super!"

This gives me pause, and causes me to wonder, just exactly HOW BAD is your personal hygiene when it gets noted as a problem that needs to be remedied on a referral from the department of family and child services. The answer is something too foul to ponder... And I'm going to have to work with this woman on a regular basis on (among other things,) basic hygiene. LOVELY.

This also causes me to wonder, just how exactly do I approach this woman and say, "Uhh, so exactly when was the last time you showered?"

"Ok, and when was the last time you showered and USED SOAP?"

Is there a tactful way to do that? I mean do I just flat out say, "Hey, in the paperwork I got, it said that your personal hygiene fails to meet minimum standards... So whaddya say we do something on a regular basis to fix that?"

Is there a tactful way of going about this?

Your thoughts?

Quick question...

I haven't had an opportunity to have cable installed yet. As a direct result, I have television that consists of exactly ONE channel. Fortunately, I don't watch that much television, however, the limited time I do have available for television viewing is usually pretty late in the evening. This causes me to ponder a question that bothers me immensely, and quite frankly, it should bother you too!

The burning question:

How the hell does Carson Daly still have his own show?

I mean, I understand if this hasn't been keeping you up nights, because the odds are quite good that you have more than one channel, or you go to bed at a reasonable hour, so either way, you're not watching this hour-long train wreck 5 nights a week. I don't watch it either... but just knowing it's still on bothers me. Who are the rocket surgeons who greenlit this debacle for additional episodes after the first week? Probably the same people responsible for "Joey."

I'm not calling you bad parents... Oh, actually, wait, THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT I'M DOING.

On Friday I was desperate to take any cases so that I could make my minimum number of hours for the week. And despite my initial protesting, I somehow got roped into taking a "parent education" case... Which basically means I'm going to go into the home of some people who have had their kid taken away from them because they were physically abusing the kid, and I have to "educate" them how to parent their child. Basically, I have to go in and find a civil way of saying, "Uhhh, hey, you probably shouldn't beat the crap out of your kid anymore, and here's why..."

Of course, that would require that I know something about parenting, for example, apparently answering a kid's question about a potato meant that I was interfering with one of my clients' parenting. I know this because she instantly became enraged, insisted that I was interfering with her parenting, and told me, "Just look around and get the hell out!" (Which is a lovely way to address anyone, especially someone who is only doing their job by checking in on you and your kids... Oh, and of course it's a lovely thing to scream at someone in front of afforementioned kids.) All because of a potato!

Man, do I ever feel loved and appreciated!

Thank goodness my co-workers know what goes on... and thank god for one co-worker in particular who knows just how bonkers this particular lady is, and allows me to vent any time I have contact with her

Friday is going to suuuuuuuuck...

Well, I told you that I had softball on Thursday nights...

I suppose I neglected to mention what sorry shape I'm in, and that I need to hit the batting cages like it's nobody's business.

We had our first game this evening, and though they looked well practiced, we demolished them by a score of 12-4. I know that you don't really care, but I batted .750 with three base hits and a ground out and 3 RBIs. I was pretty impressed with myself as far as the numbers went, though I must say that while it looks good on paper, it was ugly on the field. (And I KNOW it was ugly.)

Add in the fact that I was forced to play catcher, a position at which I have neither experience, nor demonstrable skill, and well, let's just say that it wouldn't surprise me if my coworkers all began to think that I had no athletic prowess whatsoever, which is untrue. (I was just VERY rusty, and playing an unfamiliar position.)

But with all the constant lobbing of errant pitches all evening, and then hauling my chunky butt around the bases, I have no doubt that I'm going to be more than a little sore in the morning. I could already feel it in my back after the game... It makes me realize that I'm getting old at a rate that boggles the mind.

I suppose I'll close this post that nobody particularly cares about by leaving you with a QOTD.

Sheree: "Well, somebody's got their panties in a bunch today!"
Johnathan: "Actually they are boxer briefs! Grey, in case you care."
Liz: "Well, since we're sharing, let's see... I think I'm wearing a multi-colored boy-short deal today..."
[I pull down my waistband just enough so that the three people at the table can see the color of my drawers.]
Jason: "Jesus, where did you get those? They look like they belong in a Dr. Seuss book."
Liz: "Yeah, actually I was lucky enough to find these in Whoville the last time I vacationed there."
Sheree: "You know, there is a part of me that could totally see you vacationing in Whoville."

Can you find it in your cold, blackened hearts to forgive me?

If you're anything like me, (and I suspect you are,) you don't have a real heart. Instead, you've got something resembling a black lump of coal, (which smells suspiciously of bacon,) where your heart once was. (Your real heart hasn't been there since puberty, and we all know it!) I assume that whether you admit it or not, there is a part of you which is more than a little twisted, horrible, and wrong, and that is the part of you that keeps you coming back here to read my musings. (I know that some of you are remiss to admit that this part of you exists, but I'll tell you something, I wouldn't have you any other way!)

Anyway, I apologize for my recent absence. Truth be told, lately I haven't been feeling too sparky. I'm not ACTUALLY SICK, which would at least be a valid excuse, but rather I've just not felt like myself.

You know that detached, weird feeling you get when you take too much cold medicine? Take that feeling, only subtract taking any medicines of any kind, add a TOTAL lack of appetite (well, actually, I do occasionally have an appetite, but when it comes time to eat I just don't feel up to it, or nothing sounds the least bit appealing,) then add exponential amounts of unexplained exhaustion (expected amounts caused by work, the move, and then additionally whatever it is I've got going on physically,) only when I try to sleep or even just rest, I can't... and when you total it all up, the bottom line is that I've been feeling wonkier than Paris Hilton's left eye.

Basically, I feel like dog shit, but it's still "technically healthy" dog shit... I ought to know, I asked the vet.

And so the long and short of it is, I haven't felt like sitting down and composing a post telling you that I feel gross, but am not actually sick... I know I'm not actually sick, because at no point have I felt compelled to lie completely still on my kitchen floor. (Don't ask, I can't explain it, but laying on my kitchen floor has always made me feel a little better when I am genuinely sick... It's just one of my things. And in this instance it is not applicable.)

In other news, my work schedule is in total, complete, and utter turmoil at the moment because one of my clients bailed on a visit, failed to go to court-ordered rehab, and is about 1.5 days from a jail sentence if she doesn't turn up, another client is skipping town for a weekend, one case has changed to the point where I am only a glorified taxi service, and another case has closed out. So basically, my whole week is JACKED. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself... Though now that I've publicly stated that I've got this kind of availability, I can guarantee with 98% certainty that the shit will once again hit the fan. (I know that this will happen, because that's how this job works... When you think for even the slightest moment that you don't have jack squat to do, suddenly you find yourself in the middle of a shit storm.) It's accepted as a reality of the business. (And that is exactly what happened two weeks ago, and I know I've yet to tell you all about it, but I promise I will get to it... The wonk has prevented it this week.)

I suppose in my last little blurb of information I should let you know about my softball team. We finally got the details. We ARE in the same league as DCS, so we will get to make all kinds of inappropriate remarks during at least one game this season. We also finally nailed down a team name... And I LOVE IT. Our team's name? "MEDICATED." Seriously, if you know anything about the social services industry, you HAVE to see the humor in that team name!

And in closing, I will leave you with a QOTD:

[While sitting at a red light a guy pulls up and revvs his engine like he's wanting to race when the light turns green.]

Liz (on the phone): "Oh my god, this lame ass just pulled up next to me and is all revving his engine like he wants to race."
Kirsten (on other end of call): "Is he at least in a decent car? Or could you totally smoke him?"
Liz: "Umm, I think it's a Corolla... But that's not the point!"
Kirsten: "A COROLLA? DUDE! DO IT! Blast him out of the water! He needs to learn he can't be pulling up like that in a COROLLA."
Liz: "The light just changed. I'm not racing him. And I'll tell you why. -- One, I am not 16. I don't feel the need to prove myself on the road. I think we all already knew how that race would have ended if it had had two willing participants. And, more importantly, two, HAVE you seen gas prices lately? I'm not going to gun it and waste 84 cents worth of gas just to beat some punk at a light!
Kirsten: "Damn, there you go again... Saving the world by not crushing egos or over-using fossil fuels... I think you deserve some kind of award!"


****Oh, and a side note to the smart ass who said she knew where we put my shower curtain, but didn't know I couldn't find it until it was already found: I've got a question for you! Do you happen to remember where we packed the little plastic thingies that support the shelves on my kitchen cart? I can't find them ANYWHERE!****

****Another side note to Jay (Canadian Jay, not Portland Jay) I did write to you! HONEST! And I don't mean to be self-absorbed, but the wonk also kept me from running to the post office, so your letter is on a bit of a delay, but it is coming!!****

I found that damn shower curtain!

I am a strange packer I suppose.

I was looking in logical places for my shower curtain. I had like three boxes marked "Bathroom" and it wasn't in any of those. Where did I pack the thing? It was in the bottom of a duffel bag packed with shoes. How or why it ended up in there is a mystery even to me, and I'm the idiot that packed it! (Sometimes I'm not very bright.)

My guess is that I put it in wherever I thought it would fit, and since I'm a shoe hound, I guess I figured that my shoes would be one of the first things I unpacked... Next time I'm putting it in a bathroom box, dammit! And if it doesn't fit, then I will just need to get a bigger bathroom box so that it's where it belongs!