One is the loneliest number, sort of

One is the loneliest number, sometimes.

Due to layoffs at my dream job, I was forced to find a new job. I took the first offer that came along because after 2 months of looking, I had no good options. I wound up in an industry I know nothing about, nor am I interested to learn about it. I know what I’m doing but it’s not what I want to be doing. I want to be doing what I used to do but I lack the confidence to go out in the job market and say “yes, I am a print production artist” even though I did that kind of work for 9 years. So, I got myself in a position where I make money and I have insurance but honestly, I hate it.

I’ve been at my new job for almost 3 months. In that time I have had 2 people ask me about me – my family, what part of town I live in, what I do for fun, etc.. TWO people. The person that hired me left the company a month & ½ after I started working here so I’m sort of in limbo. I have plenty to do but I’m not really attached to any one person. I’m sort of floating until the position I was supporting gets a warm body in the chair.

The industry for my new job is very analytical and numbers oriented. Privacy is the first thing they taught me when I had my orientation. Maybe that’s why no one has tried to get to know me. They’re all privacy Nazis! All I know is I’m lonely here.

I know this is not the job for me because I start counting the hours and minutes before I can leave as soon as I clock in each morning. That’s a bad sign. I’ve had numerous people tell me ‘oh, it’s much easier to find a job when you already have one’ and that’s true but when you’re new, time off is not in abundance so how am I supposed to interview when I don’t have time off? And there’s that nagging problem I have of zero confidence. I’m afraid that I’ll find a job where I’d like to work and my employer will find out I’m incompetent and will fire me. Then, I’ll be back to square one, scrambling for a paycheck. The thought of being without insurance and a regular paycheck is terrifying. That’s probably just a big a problem as me not being confident.

So, what’s a girl to do? I guess I’ll keep slogging along at my current job and save as much money as I can for a while and keep searching on the side. Instead of having a Jolt cola, I need a confidence cola!

True Friends

True friends are hard to find. I mean real, true blue, see you with snot hanging out of your nose and not care friends. Friends who stand by you even when you're being shitty. Friends who know your darkest secrets and don't care that you're sort of a putz. Friends that you can go months without talking to and not hold it against you. Let me tell you, they are hard to find and few and far. If you have a friend like that, do not...DO NOT let go of them!

I've know that I had some real keepers but lately, things have happened that let me know that I have some new true friends. 

First, let me tell you about my oldest friends. Karen H. is my oldest friend. I've known her since we were in middle school. We've had a million sleepovers, snuck out of the house together, driven countless miles riding around town looking for boys, probably gotten into a few tiffs but always recovered, and have stories that might get one another into trouble. 

Marilyn M. is my second oldest friend. She was my first friend after being uprooted my sophomore year and forced to move to the wicked city. She knew and watched me evolve with my first love. And she helped me with the subsequent breakup and heartbreak. We did a few things that would absolutely make our mothers cringe but we survived. We were friends and roommates and pals. Marilyn was the girl that I had an unspoken standing agreement with - whenever one of us experienced heartbreak, the other would show up with a 12 pack of beer and we'd drink the troubles away for a time. We've experienced marital woes and then, being a new parent woes. She was always the voice of reason for me - the level headed one. She helped me through 2 kids and a divorce. She is and will always be my spiritual counselor.

I've been going through an upheaval in my life right now and I have 2 new true friends. These are girls who will still be associated with me, even though I'm a social pariah in some circles. They don't care that I've royally fucked up in some areas. They laugh at my stupidity and OCD tendencies,  and look out for me to make sure I don't continue to screw up my life. They have the guts to say "hey asshole - don't do that kind of stupid shit or you're going to be in deeper than you already are!" 

The coolest part is that these people know me, love me, look out for me and continue to be my friends. I'm so grateful for that! I honestly have absolutely no idea why they stand by me and why the forgive me all of the time. In my mind, I'm a total spaz and I absolutely do not deserve their friendship and yet, they continue to be there for me. 

These 4 girls in particular have no idea the depth of love and admiration that I have for them. It might be a week or 6 months since we've spoken to one another but I think about them every day. And I love them dearly. And I am eternally grateful that I have them.

Good friends are hard to come by. If you have one or three or 50, keep them close and let them know that you love them. They are priceless.

The resume fiasco

Those who know me are aware that I've been trying to find a job for the last 2 weeks. That's a whole story in itself but here's one tiny thing I encountered.

I was going to an "interview" which was actually a recruitment pep rally for a company that wanted people to become insurance agents. Since I haven't been on an interview in 9 years I figured it would be good practice to put my face in front of someone and see how I did. The recruiter had requested that I bring a copy of my resume, so on my way to the meeting I had to stop and get some printed.

I picked a shipping/fax/copy/printing place that looked like a mom and pop shop rather than the big name kind of store and that's where my troubles began. The sweet little lady behind the counter did know what a flash drive was, and she did know how to plug it into the printer but everything came to a screeching halt after that. The flash drive had 4 folders of images and one word document sitting all by itself and she couldn't locate the document.

After about 5 minutes of punching buttons she decided to plug it into the computer and see if she could locate the document that way. The only problem was that she didn't know how to find the USB drive on the computer to even begin her search. I tried pointing out where she might look but things were headed south from the get-go. I eventually sat down at their computer, located the USB, located my document and sending the document to print then...nothing. I made sure I was sending the document to the correct printer, tried again and...nothing.

The employee then invited me to go behind the counter, try the USB on another computer, locate the USB, located the document, verified the printer, hit print and...nothing. I don't know if the computer was hooked to the printer or if the printer even worked - all I know was that I had 4 minutes to make it to the meeting and I had no resume.

I eventually left the shop and went straight to the meeting without a resume. The dude didn't even remember to ask for it when I arrived! 2 coronary attacks in a sub par print shop and the dude didn't even ask for my stupid, unprinted resume!

Lesson learned - if you need something printed for an important meeting, go to a big name, reliable print place. And give yourself plenty of time.

Stall Standoff

When you work in a large office with lots of ladies there are going to be times in the bathroom where everyone has to "go" but no one wants everyone else to hear them. That's when the stall standoff happens. 

Today there were 3 stalls in a row with ladies waiting to let 'er rip. No one wanted to be the first so there was a period of time where no issued a peep. Or poop. You could have heard a pin drop in there! I heard grumbly guts because so many people had to poo and they felt like they couldn't.

(I figured you didn't want to see a picture of a rancid toilet)

I think by now everyone knows what a courtesy flush is. But if there are multiple ladies lined up in stalls it would seem a bit obvious to hear stall after stall firing off the flusher over and over. Thankfully, pooping in the bathroom isn't as taboo as it used to be with the invention of products like Poo-pourri, V.I.Poo, Just a Drop and others. Heck, you can find tons of information on Google that discuss why poo smells bad and multiple ways to fight the odor. And yet the stall standoff continues.

If there were a voice over of the action in that room it would have gone something like this:

In stall 1 we've got Sloppy Sally. She's holding tight, not willing to break the seal.

Stall 2 is showing signs of life but Smelly Samantha is trying to hold off as well.

Stall 3 has Horrible Hagatha who's rustling paper to cover the sounds of impending doom.

Wait, there's a plink in stall 2 and stall 3 just issued a courtesy flush. Stall 1 remains silent.

There's a sniffle from stall 2 and shuffling feet in stall 3. Stall 1 is a real warrior - she remains silent.

What's that? The bathroom door opened in it appears that 3 more ladies are walking in together.

The fog emanating from stall 1 indicates that a security breach just happened. Oh, and stall 2 just let loose, using the arriving ladies noise as cover to pound the porcelain. Stall 3 falls in quick succession but the overall noise dies down just in time for everyone to hear the great grunt. It's all over, people. 3 kerplunks have successfully landed thanks to ambient noise but the smell gives it all away. Ordinarily, there would be a photo finish to determine the winner but who wants to see that?

Now don't act all disgusted like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm sure all of you reading this has been in a stall standoff at least once in your life. Maybe some of you own a bottle of Poo-pourri and have used it. While it helps preserve the noses of other people it won't hide the sounds of plops and drops. Maybe, all bathrooms should be equipped with a loud white noise machine so legions of ladies would not be subjected to having to hold it in until the bathroom becomes vacant. But then again, if the white noise was loud enough, everyone could unload and get away with it without being embarrassed. 

Yes, this is a problem that's plagued women for millennium. I'm sure Cleopatra had to wait for her ladies in waiting to leave the loo before she felt comfortable going. It would be much easier if we were more like men. I think they pride themselves on the volume and duration of their expulsions. It's like a sporting contest form them! In this day and age of gender equality I don't think women will ever strive to match men on their anal achievements. Ever.

Microwave Guts and Wood

I'm the type of artist who views a piece of art in public, then goes home and tries to recreate it. Why spend $400-500 on a piece when I can recreate it in 25,000 easy steps and 6 months of labor?!?

 One day while surfing the net I saw something called fractal wood. It's a process where baking soda and water is applied to wood then electricity is applied and voila - beautiful, mysterious burn patterns appear. I decided this was a project I could take on and master but I needed some supplies first.









I needed a slab of wood so I got one. I needed baking soda water so I made some. I needed an electrical source and that's when the fun started. I watched an instructional video where a gentleman used a microwave transformer and I just happened to know where to get my hands on one, so I got a transformer - but I had to dismantle a microwave first.

Sounds easy peasy, right? Yes it was however - I am not well educated in matters pertaining to electricity so it really scares me, and I was about to dive into something that is capable of generating 2000 volts of the sparkly stuff. The gizmo shown above is called a capacitor and I've been told that the thing can shock the holy shit out of you if you accidentally discharge it. I had to remove it from the microwave in order to get to the transformer so I was really nervous to reach into the guts of the machine. I had one eye shut, my face screwed up with concentration and a silent prayer running through my head the entire time.

I had visions in my head of making a mistake, getting shocked and watching my hair fly out of my scalp and landing on the floor in a little pile.

Sounds of "zing, zap, poof" and my hair would gently float to the ground.

Luckily, the extraction went well and my hair is still intact. I've got the capacitor in a safe place where I won't set it off, and my transformer is ready to go. Now all I have to do is figure out how to hook the transformer up to an electrical source and find a way to connect battery charger clamps to all of that so I can get to zapping. I'm thinking that maybe I should ask someone how to do that rather than plugging a bare wire into the wall socket. I'd probably have a pile of hair on the floor if I did that!  It kind of reminds me of the time as a kid when I stuck a bobby pin into the wall socket.............

Tiger Spray

A while back I took my daughters to a local big cat rescue sanctuary. It was a gorgeous place with lots of HUGE, beautiful big cats of all kinds. There were tigers, lions, cougars, leopards,cheetahs, bobcats, lynx, servals, ocelots and a few random coatimundis and lemurs and we were left awestruck to see such majestic creatures up close and personal.

We took our sweet time wandering around the various enclosures and made huge fools out of ourselves by talking and meowing and nearly every cat. As if those big kitties spoke house cat! We don't speak tiger or any other big cat language so we had to improvise.

When we got around to the tiger enclosure we noticed that there were lots of signs posted, warning us not to get on the ass end of that particular kind of cat. Apparently, they like to shower you with "love". The staff members also verbally warned us so you'd have to be deaf or blind not to know that if a tiger backs up to you and lifts it's tail, you're going to get sprayed! 

As we were watching the tigers roam around and play I noticed a lady and her child watching them, too. Now picture this...we're at a beautiful, peaceful place with exquisite wild animals and this lady's kid is behaving like a total brat. She's screeching loudly that she's thirsty and she doesn't care about tigers and the whole place is stupid. And the mother is ignoring her instead of making her shut the hell up and quit annoying all of the other guests. And then, in steps good old Mr. Karma.

I love Karma. Especially when it comes to dumb asses who bother every other person on the planet. You see, the screaming brat and her apparently Valium overloaded mother were not paying attention to the signs and staff members. And they did not notice a friendly 300 pound 4 foot tall tiger sauntering up to them, turning around, lifting it's tail and taking aim. And then it happened...

Oh yes, that tiger did it! Right in the face of that little girl and her mama. And not a little spritz either - it looked like a high pressure hose squirting out of the ass end of that tiger! Those two were sprayed head to toe with fragrant secret sauce and because the girl was busy screaming, I'm sure she got a mouth full.

I'm fairly certain that I saw a few staff members snickering and I shamelessly laughed out loud. And maybe, just maybe the tiger grinned a little bit, too. That's what those two get for being so annoying and unpleasant!

Let this be a lesson in a number of areas; don't be a loud jerk out in public, don't let a tiger back up to you and lift it's tail and don't sample the flavor of tiger secret sauce. Just ask that little girl. She'll tell you.

Massage me BRUTALLY

I was given this beauty for Christmas and man was I excited. It's got everything. Heated, vibrating seat, 3 individual back massage settings with heat and 2 settings for neck massaging. This thing is loaded!

I am very hopeful that it will help work out all of my kinks (at least in my neck and back) and that I'll be able to move somewhat normally. I mean, how could it not help  me? It's the Cadillac of chair massagers!











Once I found out that this fantastic marvel of technology would be mine I had the arduous task of waiting for it to be delivered. I waited and waited and waited and the waiting made me more and more tense because I was dreaming of a day when I would be somewhat discomfort less...not discomfort free, just discomfort less. For days I drove home from work at an above average speed, just hoping I'd find a large box on my doorstep. Finally, my waiting paid off. I got home, looked out the front door and there it was! The skies became bluer and the birds chirped louder and I enjoyed the anticipation of little shiatsu balls gently rolling up and down my back and shoulders. It took 10 minutes of wrestling it out of the box and setting it up but soon, nirvana was to be mine.

I put the massager in my comfiest chair, got situated a turned it on. The motor started to whir and I felt the shiatsu balls start moving up and down. It...was...fantastic!!! I must admit, the weight of my body against those hard little rollers was a bit much. I figured that I'd have to push against the rollers but they were so effective I ended up moving slightly away from it because the pressure was so intense. It was almost painful.

Each time my back and neck was pummeled I could feel the knots crackle and break down. Then my back started to feel a little bit beat up. Those deep knots were getting squashed right out of my body! Mr. Shiatsu ninja kicked my ass! Or rather, my back. 

I guess I sat against that thing for a good 20 minutes and by the time it was done, I felt like a limp noodle. It was heaven. I finished out my day and slept soundly all night long, but the next morning was another story. 'Who beat the hell out of me', I wondered. I was so sore it hurt to breathe! Leaning side to side was out of the question. I practically used all of the hot water in the shower trying to loosen things up and I didn't really start moving normally until the end of the 2nd day.

I guess it's not wise to go all in for a long, deep massage when you're really tight and sore. Sure, I broke up some knots but I overdid it something awful. It's been 3 days since I used my massager and I think I'm about ready to try it again. Only this time I won't go for 20 minutes. I might try 5 and see how things feel. All things in moderation people say. I guess they're not wrong because I learned it the hard way. 

Zoe's Onstage Speech

Kidlet is a huge, huge blues fan and she likes seeing her favorite band as often as humanly possible. Since I'm her driver, I end up seeing them, too. Sometimes we see them twice in one week. Let me put it this way...we see them so often they're like members of our family. Zoe is like their little sister.
She's their photographer, the social media queen and all time number one fan.

We saw the guys playing a while back and she was asked to get up on stage and recite all of the different social media sites where fans could find them.

Now, I'm a gigantic ham so I would have used that opportunity to plant myself on the stage and not leave until the entire show was over but kidlet is another story. She's pretty shy and is very quiet outside of home, so to be called out with 30-40 people watching is a nightmare for her.

She sort of got physically pulled onto the stage and placed directly in front of the microphone stand and I thought she was going to pass out right then and there. Her face was as red as a lobster and here eyes were as big as saucers! The poor girl was quaking in her boots! The guys kept asking her to name off their social media sites and she just got redder and redder and looked like she wanted to dissolve into the floor. She was so scared, she couldn't speak. (cue chirping crickets) I don't think you could have gotten a word out of her if you had reached down her throat and pulled them out!

Poor thing - she didn't know what to do (other than recite social media sites) and her throat was so closed up her voice box was down around her ankles. I think this silence lasted about a minute or so but it seemed like forever. She finally scuttled off stage and rejoined me at our table. It took 3 hours for the perspiration to dry off of her.  It took 4 hours for her knees to stop shaking. It took the rest of the night for her facial color to return to normal.

I guess she's not ready for public speaking yet. That's OK

Guitarded!

I know a person who is guitarded. I mean, he's got it BAD!

He keeps a guitar in his office. He has guitars scattered throughout his home. Any time someone stops by long enough to take a few breaths of air, the guitar comes out and he starts strumming. I think he got inspired to buy (and maybe learn how to play) a guitar when he was on a trip. He saw a dude strumming and singing and thought it was cool that he was getting all of the attention from chicks. So he decided to become "that guy" who could strum softly and sing soulful songs that would make him appear to be a cool chick magnet. Chicks would dig him, guys would want to be him, he would finally be cool!

So he got a guitar. And then another. And then another. And then another. And then he decided everyone in his family wanted a guitar too so he got one for each of them.

He has an impressive collection of pretty, somewhat expensive guitars. So now he researches guitars. And he looks at pictures of guitars. And he watches YouTube videos about guitars. And he watches YouTube videos about how to string guitars, and how to adjust the sounds on guitars, and how to tell a good guitar from a bad guitar and he's learning how to somewhat dismantle one. That inspired him to  shave the bridge part that holds up the strings. Then he monkeyed with the fret lines. Then he monkeyed with the strings some more. Then he decided to do even more work on it. I'm sure it sounds more like a sitar than a guitar now.

Now another thing about Mr. Guitarded is his playing style. There isn't one. I've never heard more than 5 notes played in succession. I've heard a couple of chords but that's about it. Lucky for him, I'm really good at knowing what song is playing just by hearing the first few notes so I know what songs he's rocking out to. I'm not sure anyone else would know.

Since he never actually plays much, he doesn't have string callus marks on his fingers. String calluses are good way to tell how much a guitarist actually plays. His don't look anything like these.

 His look as soft as this..


I'm all about having hobbies and learning new things but this guy seems to be working in reverse. Sort of like a brain surgeon digging into someones noggin then going to medical school. He's altering instruments without hearing what they sound like when they're really, seriously played. If he ever learns how to play he might not like the way his alterations sound and then it will be too late.

His addiction is becoming a problem because that's all he ever thinks about. Work isn't getting done, people are starting to avoid him because they don't want to hear 3 chords played over and over and over and they don't want to listen to a 20 minute discussion about his latest purchase. I'm sure his wife is grateful because he's out of her hair but his 6 stringed mistress is taking over his life. He needs an intervention.

Fat fingered

Anyone who has been around me longer than 5 minutes knows that I suffer from arthritis. Some days I can barely move, other days I can move but random body parts won't work, and most days I walk like an old, old, old woman. Lately I've been having additional trouble with my fingers and toes. They don't want to move or bend. Sometimes they swell up to look like little sausages. This is very frustrating because I use the computer a lot for my job and it's hard to type when you've got wonky fingers.

Today the swelling was so bad, I typed multiple letters at once. I messed up so many times the auto correct function started cussing at me. I think it started saying "you're screwed lady". I decided to do some other work until things calmed down but I felt like I looked like I had one of those foam fingers on. I couldn't pick my nose because my finger was too big!

Pintrest shows party treats modeled after my fat finger! I should get paid or credit or something! 

I'm not going to show you my toes. No one should have to see those. Fat, swollen, rigid toes will make you walk funny. Did you know that? I saw my reflection in a plate glass window as I was walking and it was an interesting sight. I was sort of hunched over and was walking on my heels a little bit in an attempt to not bend my toes. I was a sight. Not for sore eyes - I caused sore eyes!

I finally got loosened up by about 2 in the afternoon so basically my day was fairly unproductive. I hate days like that. I would have rather stayed in bed all day long but I figured that I could be miserable at home or miserable at work. And at least I would get paid for going to work which helps me avoid having to eat oatmeal or peanut butter for dinner every night. That gets pretty old. I know, I've had to do it. And my fingers weren't swelling as much back then.

Kidlet is getting her license!

My youngest baby aint a baby no mo. Nosirree. She's 17 now and she's about to get her official drivers license. That means she can  head out (escape) into the wild blue yonder all on her own . I'm happy for her and sad for me and I'm a little bit scared.

She's doing a pretty good job at driving. She's cautious, doesn't speed, and she follows the rules. Which means the other drivers are going to roll right over her. Caution is a good thing but she's so cautious it's going to take her ages to get wherever she's going. There has to be a 2 mile wide open gap between cars before she feels comfortable enough to pull out onto the street. She stops at least 2 (17) car lengths behind others when approaching a stop light. She's just really super duper cautious. The first day she takes off for school on her own, I'm sure I'll be glued to the window watching her drive off. With tears in my eyes. And an ache in the pit of my stomach. It's not her that I'm worried about, it's all of the other crazies out there whose erratic driving will probably scare her to death. 

We had an encounter where she didn't plan her lane strategy far enough in advance and didn't have time to turn when she wanted to. The good thing is that it doesn't bother her to have to drive around the block and try again. Somehow, I see her going around the block for a better approach becoming a normal thing. For a long time.

I'm not making fun of her, really I'm not. It's just hard for me to grasp not knowing how to drive, because I've been driving since I was about 10 or 11 so it's second nature. I figure that after being a passenger for 17 years, it wouldn't be hard to get behind the wheel and just go. I guess that's just the difference in people.

I will give kidlet credit - she remembers all of the rules she was taught in driving school. She schools me when I've done something wrong when I'm driving. She isn't a lead foot Lucy thank gosh so she won't have to buy brakes twice as often as the rest of the people out there. She doesn't tailgate, she doesn't switch lanes every 3 minutes, she's just super cautious.

I can honestly say that I've only used the invisible brake pedal on the passenger side once or twice since she's been behind the wheel. So all in all, she's doing a great job and I should slow my paranoid roll. I only hope that she learns to relax a little and enjoy driving. And not get run over by the other crazies. Cross your fingers and wish her luck.

Go fund you? Hell, go fund ME!!!

I've been seeing lots of requests on Facebook about people needing financial help from friends, family and strangers. Some of the requests are legit. Catastrophic illnesses, overwhelming losses due to mother nature, the unexpected loss of a family member - that kind of stuff. There are times when I'm willing to consider helping out someone but today I saw a post that just frosted me. 

A woman was getting a divorce and in her previous life her husband was the primary wage earner in their household. Since she was divorcing him, she needed help because she didn't have much money and times were tight.

Really? Really? Times are tight everywhere people! Starting over again on your own is HARD. When I got divorced I didn't have a pot to piss in. My ex made 5 times what I did so I didn't worry about saving up lots of money for the bad times. I was flat broke and could barely afford the rent. I went without eating so my kids would have plenty and to save money. I scrimped and scratched but I DID NOT create an account to ask friends to give me money.

I'm sure there's more to the story than what I could read but I'm just saying that I'm insulted because it seems like in today's time, the youth are a bunch of weak, lazy, babies. In my day, if you needed money, you took whatever job came your way - good or bad, and you did your very best to be a fantastic employee. You saved money for rainy days. You didn't expect for someone to bail you out when the going got tough. You just worked even harder. And you worked multiple jobs if need be. Don't even get me started on customer service!

I'm sure there are plenty of people who will disagree with me about being miffed at the divorcee's request for money. Everyone needs a helping hand now and then - I get it. But to create a go fund me account and broadcast it all over social media just seems ludicrous. If I could make it, anyone can do it. Thanks for letting me rant. I'll get off of my soapbox now and go back to work.

Well, well, well. Lookie here, it's the self professed moron - coming back to life.
Hello folks, I've missed writing stories for all -1 of my readers!

Where have I been???  I don't know. Teaching kidlet to drive, trying not to wallow in self pity, attempting to stay employed and alive - just normal stuff. 

I felt like I was running out of ideas and writing a regular blog was beginning to feel like a job so I took a break.

Everything is still the same - my household is full of crazies and cats, I still have regular clothing malfunctions, and stupid words come out of my mouth when I don't mean for them to.

I've got some ideas percolating so I hope you'll stop in from time to time. 

Let's get this show on the road!