Oh My Achin’ Back

I have cleaned more today than I have cleaned this house in the year and a half that we have lived here. Hubby can’t believe all the garbage he has hauled out to the dumpster. I can’t believe the lengths I have gone to when it is just family coming. I have truly outdone myself. I mean, I cleaned out the refrigerator(s), the pantry cabinets, the spare beds have had their sheets washed and have been remaid, I have hung pictures, I have changed cat litter boxes (3), I have even resorted to washing rugs. I tell ya, I’m officially POOPED.

Does Anyone Have a Kleenex?

A co-worker and his wife went to a large retail place to get a few things they needed to prepare Thanksgiving dinner for their families. As they are checking out, the cashier starts hacking her lungs out.

Wife: Are you okay?
Cashier: Yeah, I went to the doctor. I have pneumonia.
Wife: Are you taking anything for it?
Cashier: Yeah. I took medicine yesterday, but I’m sure I’m still contageous.

She’s hacking all over them the whole time, without covering her mouth.

They went home and put everything they bought in the dishwasher…. and showered.


Grumpy Bunny got me with this meme (I’m a little late…)

1.) Do you use an alarm clock to wake up in the morning?
Nope. I have two shih tzu puppies that have an uncanny sense of morning… even when it’s not yet.

2.) What time do you set it for?
They usually go off between 4-5 a.m. Occasionally 3:30, rarely 6:00.

3.) Do you hit the snooze button? If so, how many times.
When they are awake at 3:30, I try to suggest they go back to sleep for awhile. Sometimes it works… sometimes it doesn’t. I never hit them.

4.) Have you ever abused an alarm clock?
Never. I promise.

5.) It’s time to spread some Blogcess linky love? … Okay, I don’t get this either, but GB wasn’t clear…

I tag: Sizzle, Livey, Beckett, Director (I want to see HIS side of the story) and Michael

Dear Co-Workers

I’ve taken it upon myself to send you all an e-mail detailing my complete and utter irritation with you at this point in time. Why? Because today I received my third client call this fall. Three doesn’t sound like much, except I’m not supposed to receive one. None. Nada. Zip. Zilch. I don’t talk to the clients. Never. Ever.

I am a tool. (Yes, you can laugh at my expense if you feel so inclined…) I am no different than the computer I run. I am here to be the technician behind the scenes. That being the key phrase here. Behind the scenes.

If a client wants his data transferred to another company, you deal with them and give me the okay to do this. If a client wants to know what we have for them on file, you ask me and then report to them. If a client wants a report, you call me and I will gladly produce the report and send it either directly to them or to you.

At no point in any transaction should I be speaking with or dealing with a client. You are the salesmen. You are the contact person. You are their helpful dealer. I am the tool. Remember that. We’ll get along a lot better.

There Needs to be a Law

I apologize to any of you who are good lawyers. I realize there really is such a thing. I actualy know one or two. Unfortunately, more often than not we hear the bad stories… we’ve heard what poor Livey has gone through with all her troubles, and now it’s hit closer to home.

Youngest son, his girlfriend, a close friend of his and his date went to the ‘big city’ last night. The friend was driving. After dinner, they were pulled over by the police. Evidently the plates were run, as they do, and the next thing they knew the driver was being arrested. Why? Because he missed a court date he never knew he had.

A few weeks ago he’d gotten a DWI. I’m not saying that’s a good thing. It’s not. It’s not good at all and I’m glad he got a ticket and there was no accident caused and no one was hurt. He hired a lawyer, and was going to fight the ticket. I don’t remember the exact circumstances, but he evidently had a case. At any rate, he’d given the lawyer a hefty retainer and all was going to be taken care of.

What happens? The kid gets a letter from his lawyer saying they had a court date, but the kid doesn’t get it until after the date! He can’t get ahold of the lawyer, and now…bingo! He’s in jail for failure to appear. $10,000 bail. Can you believe it? Of course, on a Sunday when you can’t get a cashiers check or cash for bail… and who wants to hand over $1000 to a bail bondsman only to get pissed away just to get out 24 hours sooner? I’m sorry, that’s cracked!

His parents gave up on him along time ago, so guess we’re going to try and help him out. Hubby’s on the warpath to find this lawyer and be sure a complaint gets turned into the powers that be about this guy. Can you imagine? The very guy you are supposed to have on your side is the one that causes you to be where you are. As Hubby says, in this day and age of cell phones (yes, the kid has one) there is no excuse for this lawyer not to have gotten in touch with him and let him know about his court date. Then, you get put into the jail and 1) you can make as many calls as you want but 2) it’s a payphone and they’ve taken away all your money. Think on that one… nuts, huh?

Oh, hell… I’m thankful it’s not my kid, but still… I really feel for the kid. He’s a good kid and certainly didn’t need this…

Because You WERE Wondering

…about the party. I heard you mumbling to yourself as you clicked onto the site. What? No update yet? Has she even gotten HOME from this party? Maybe she was kidnapped and they forced her to eat gizzards and rocky-mountain-oysters and chug beer until she puked! D’you suppose??


We were one of the first ones there. I wasn’t drinking alcohol. I was the dd and needed to keep whatever wits I have left about me so the ‘bad Sue’ didn’t rear her ugly head. Hubby was a doll. He stayed with me until a woman I knew fairly well came and talked to me and kept me company most of the evening – and she really didn’t want to be there either. Whew! Then, as things went on, one of my co-workers wives came to talk to me, too. Between those two and Hubby checking up on me about every fifteen minutes, I made it through.

They had lots of food – you think I’m kidding about the gizzards and rocky-mountain-oysters? Nope. They had lots worse… and better. I ate a bit, but wasn’t really hungry, so just munched a bit. Then the music started and one of the twenty-somethings that was there decided to sing happy birthday to the host – off key – loudly – oh, my bleeding ears!!

I got some fashion tips. There was another twenty-something there with pink and lime green leather cowboy boots – handmade – ugly as sin. She was pretty proud of ’em, though. I saw guys who were there who weren’t supposed to be with women that shouldn’t have been let out of the house. I saw a woman couples who’d been divorced for years in the same room. Shocker. We didn’t stay long enough for the drunk brawling or the blowing chunks in the back of the bushes, but we stayed long enough for both of us.

Hubby was a sweetheart. He had me home before 10. Of course, I swear they must have tried to poison me. At midnight I was experiencing projectile vomiting along with projectile…uh… other things. Someone brought this up one time and wondered how you handled the two distinct problems happening at the same time. Easy. You sit on the toilet with a garbage can on your lap and let it all out. Believe me, you feel twenty pounds lighter when you’re done!

This morning I actually didn’t feel all that bad, just tired. Didn’t get a damn thing done today I was supposed to for Thanksgiving, but gee… what would it be without the panic-cleaning that involves shoving things in every unoccupied closet, slamming the door, and praying no one opens that particular one? Ah… I live for the excitement!

Discomfort 101

Hubby has a friend. If you’ve read The Dark Maddness recently, it’s the friend I spoke of there. Yeah. Him. He’s not a real close friend, but what I would call a close associate. Once a month or so, he has a party in his shop and it’s a drop in type thing. Because he usually has it on a Thursday night, it isn’t as though people stay all night and end up sloppy drunk. Sometimes Hubby goes for awhile, sometimes he doesn’t. It is usually a bunch of the locals there who Hubby grew up with and he is a very “people person”. I tease him and call him “Chatty Cathy”… for those of you old fogey’s who can remember the doll.

Once a year, this friend has a birthday party in his shop. For himself. It’s just a bigger version of the monthly get-together. Hubby will go, if he remembers. It’s usually on a weekend, so that makes it a little easier to go and still do something the next day.

Me? I’m invited. Me? I don’t go. Time to ‘fess up. I really don’t like people. I like some people. I love some people. For the most part, I’m very, very, uncomfortable around people. I’ve never been good at small talk. I don’t like to eat around others (family doesn’t count). I don’t like to drink alcohol around others in fear of what inhibition might be set loose and which brain cell will suddenly decide to open my mouth and tell most of these people what I really think of them.

It isn’t that I think I’m better than they are. Truly that’s not it. I find their two-face game playing to be a bit much. I pretty much say what I think and if I can’t, then I’m tongue-tied. Maybe it’s the old “if you can’t say something nice, say nothing at all”… or maybe not. This group divides into the males (guarding the keg) and the females (guarding the food). Most of these people grew up together. A good portion of them are related. Another goodly portion have kids the same ages that go to school together. Last, there are the oddballs. That would be me.

I’m one of the people who came from “outside”. I’m “different”. I’m not them. I don’t care to criticize another woman’s weight, dress, lifestyle, or parenting skills. I especially don’t want to do it when she gets up from the table to go across the room for more adult beverages and/or food. Will they be talking about me when I get up? You betcha. Are they perfect specimens? Hell no. Doesn’t matter.

This weekend is the friends’ 50th birthday party celebration. Hubby has more or less begged me to go, promising we’ll leave early if I do. He has been so kind to me for so many years, letting me off the hook and making excuses for me for not putting in an appearance. I’ve softened. I’ll go. I’m not excited about it, but I’m not dreading it…. yet. I’m just numb. If I didn’t love my husband so much, you can bet I wouldn’t be doing this. Damn.

If nothing else, maybe it’ll be good blog fodder. I’ll go with that for awhile…

Friday Flashback

Originally Post November 11, 2004

Turkey Time

To most of you this means it’s nearing Thanksgiving. To me, this means a little different thing. Our company distributes free turkey’s to all of their customers who spent x-amount of dollars with the company this year. So, actually, it’s not ‘free’ free, but it’s a nice gesture. The only trouble is, it comes at our busiest time of year! This means, not only are the guys I work with stressing big-time about getting fertilizer on the fields, but now they are stressing about having to deliver thousands of turkeys (company-wide). Personally, I don’t mind it…but then, I only deliver a few to the landlords and people that my husband farms with. It is a nice opportunity to touch base with these people and thank them for their support and business through the year – without asking them for money or having to pay them money – or having some stressful topic to have to discuss. Most people are surprised to be getting ‘something for nothing’, too. That doesn’t happen often nowadays, either. So, next week we start the mad rush to deliver the birds… Hey, I get one, too! That just means it can’t be long until Thanksgiving day…

Note: We are now in the thick of this in 2005 and I’m delivering turkey’s tonight… I’d really rather be doing something else… oh, well… remember, I don’t like people.

The Sound of Silence

Not what you think.
I’ve been having strangeness with my vehicle. I’ll be driving down the road and suddenly all the electrical stuff in the truck will stop. Immediately. This includes the engine, all power “stuff” like brakes and steering, lights, flashers, turn signals… you name it. Very akward if you have just passed a semi-tractor right before it chooses to do this. Uh. Yep. Scary ain’t the half of it. I just coasted to the side of the road, where, miraculously, my rig started right back up. Huh?

I’m no mechanic (but thank goodness I’m married to one) and he said he’d look at it.

Except, as of last night when I went to leave work, he hadn’t had a chance to look at it yet. So, one of the guys at work had gone out to start everyones’ vehicles to let them warm up. (Nice, aren’t they?) I go out a few minutes later, get in my truck, put it in gear, start backing up, flip on the headlights and… wait for it… yeeessss… it dies. Deader ‘an a hammer (one of Hubby’s favorite phrases). Does it start back up? No. Thank goodness I’m still in the parking lot at work, not stranded on a road somewhere.

I call Hubby (yes, he’s on speed dial). He comes. He looks. He takes me home and brings me back this morning with a new battery and other doo-dads. All fixed!! Yes!

Oh, and I’m having some weirdness with the computer at home. That’s why I’m a little behind my blogging and/or reading blogs. Just in case you were wondering. If you weren’t wondering, then disreguard this message…