Harumph

This blog has no purpose, no focus, and is full of completely meaningless content that will make you regret wasting the last ten seconds you just spent using up your eyeball juice to read it.

eyeball
I’m trying out my reviewing skills. What do you think? Not bad, right?

Er, do reviewers get reviewed?  If not, they should.

Isn’t this photo gross.  How does he do that??  My dad used to do this trick where he pulled up his eyelids and rolled his eyes so his pupils weren’t visible and they looked all white.  Scared the crap out of me….

Now that I think of it, my dad was some kind of sadist.  He used to stand out on the porch during a horrendous thunderstorm and harry me into joining him.  I’d put on my bravado face and throw out a comment on the amazing lightning show until the seconds between light and boom were a little too short.  Then I’d mutter some excuse about having to put my Barbies away and skedaddle.

We enjoyed this same ritual whenever Dad decided to watch a horror movie on late night tv.  This was how my eyeballs were first assaulted by “The Exorcist,” and some weird film about a creepy severed hand that crawled around and attacked teenagers making out in a car.  Don’t worry, I got my parents back by becoming a complete insomniac who would refuse to go to bed and allow them some “adult time.”

My mom informed me years later that my father was probably too chicken to watch these movies alone and needed the company while she pretended to be cleaning up my Barbies.

Sigh …I miss my crazy-eyed, thunder-lovin’ chicken dad.

 

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Once Upon a Mattress…

Aside

Sorry, this blog post is about to explode into a temper tantrum……..Um……Ah….Grrrrr……Ooooo……..AGUAAAGOOGOOGAGA!!!

DOES ANYONE, KNOW HOW TO DO THEIR #@!&# JOB???!!!!!

My husband decided to do some spring cleaning which, unfortunately, usually requires my involvement, as in, “Hon, would you help me lug this queen-sized mattress and box spring up 3 flights of stairs, across the swamped out backyard full of alligators, through the four foot high flea-infested front lawn and sling it onto the curb without slamming into the neighbor’s precious BMW or knocking over the Harley that belongs to the friendly but rather raucous crack house across the street?”

So after a few broken fingers, head-rattling concussions, foot-long gashes and loudly murmured “BOB SAGETS!”, the mattress patiently waits for the trash truck to carry it to its final destination.

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A few days later, it’s still waiting….

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And a few weeks later.  IT’S. STILL. “@ONADGA%#(#*%BOB SAGET!!!!!” WAITING THERE!!!!!!

Yes, we made arrangements with the trash collectors beforehand.  Yes, my husband contacted the dispatcher every day – her name’s, Savannah, and they’re expecting their first baby in October.  Yes, I posted on Angie’s List and gave them an “F” Rating.  Then. Just as I was about to file with the BBB.  The mattress vanished.

Not really sure if it was our official trash collectors, though, because some savvy neighbor got their hands on the box spring a few days earlier.

The thing is, this isn’t just a tale about a mattress.

I wouldn’t have been so upset if I hadn’t just spent the past week dealing with other situations where people either didn’t do their job, messed up the job, or weren’t even available to mess up the job.

Do you see the unwelcome trend here?

Here is my theory, which has prevented me from reaching through the receiver and sadistically plucking every nose hair from the Bungler Du Jour on the other end:

1) Company carries a glut of managerial dead weight and a small set of “little workers” who actually possess skills

2) Company needs to make more money to pay their CEOs

3) Company shuffles around deadweight and dumps more work on little workers without compensation, along with the phrase “Hey, at least you still have a job!”

4) Little Worker tells frustrated consumer on the phone, “Hey, at least I’m still on the line feeding you bull$@(%!”

End of theory and rant.

Speaking of work……….I better get back to my job, before someone tries to pluck out my nose hairs.

 

What day is it in Beijing?

Aside

Good Morning!

Sunday morning….

Reflection Time.Image

When we do attend church, we go in the evenings.  For us, Sunday mornings are not to be rushed events.

I’m a stomach sleeper.  So, I’ll start the day by rolling over and flat lining on my back while entertaining peaceful thoughts and watching the sun rise through my eyelids.

Then I’ll cautiously open my eyes, but only enough to reveal small blurry slits of daylight.  I have to pretend I’m still asleep, you see, so when our daughter wakes up and starts yelling or the boys start noodling around the kitchen for food my husband has to be the one to jump to attention.  It’s also a waiting game on who will be up first to make the coffee.

I usually win.

Except when he wakes up and squeezes my shoulders in a big hug and asks sweetly, would you mind…..?

Grrrr, well played! ;(

Now we’ll see who can hold out long enough to get out of making breakfast, er brunch.

Happy Sunday! (unless you live in China or Korea, whatever, then all my best wishes for a durable, pain-free Monday)

Will Work for Food

I am not a good motivator.

I can’t even motivate myself…have you seen the dates on my last blogs? Of course you haven’t, because I haven’t been motivated enough to network for more readers.

Money motivates me to some extent, therefore I work, but in a very blasé, unmotivated fashion. As in, I work from my bed. I wake up, get the kids to school, then lie on my bed and work on the computer. Sometimes I get dressed.

Hunger motivates me to arise from the bed and shuffle a few steps to the refrigerator, which is only a few feet away in the kitchen right. outside. my bedroom. I AM motivated to do this several times a day, but I’m not sure that bad habits/food addiction/boredom really count as proper motivational tools in the How to Be a Motivator Rule Book.

Soooo….with my point demonstrated and grossly overstated, let me move on to my dilemma over motivating my unemployed husband to arise from the couch.

He lost his job 9 months ago after working for my family’s business that went OUT of business. Same ol’ same ol’ Main Street story in America these days – highly qualified, over-skilled fifty-something competing with entry level college grads for some 70 hr/week understaffed job that pays a little higher than minimum wage. My husband sends out about 10 resumes a day into cyberspace, has received about 5 excited calls about his resume with no follow up calls and NO INTERVIEWS. So, yeah, he kind of doesn’t feel like getting up off the couch.
I’d let him stay in bed, but this is my domain.
Oh, and also, his mom died.
And his dad will probably soon follow, considering he’s on a few borrowed months’ time with stage 4 cancer.

Comcast put out a wonderfully helpful article entitled, “Is Your Job Search Getting You Down?” that suggests the prospective job hunter surround himself with positive motivational people.

I don’t know any Suzy Sunshinesspongebob. Do you?

Excuse me while I put on my slippers and shuffle into the kitchen for a bag of Cheetos.

I might as well be blogging

So, I got a new job.

A few weeks ago, I wasn’t so insouciant- it was more like “I GOT A JOB!  AND IT’S FULL-TIME FROM MY HOME OFFICE!!!”  The work is enjoyable.  I mean, I tell people that I work on excel worksheets all day, and they give me a look that implies, should I offer you a loaded gun to move things along a little more quickly which compels me to explain that, “no, really, I really like doing this stuff because I have some weird anal side to me that loves tedious data entry work.”  And I do truly enjoy it, because, to me, it’s like playing an endless game of Cake Mania and getting paid for it….

but see, that’s the thing….getting paid for it.  Because, even though I’ve been working for these people for about a month, and they seem like very nice, normal people, I’ve only received one paycheck for about half a week’s pay.

So now I’m forced into this unfortunate position of essentially having to beg for money like Oliver holding out his bowl for more porridge.  I’m grateful for this job and all, but, in America at least, I was under the assumption that receiving a paycheck was an employee’s right.  And I’m not just bagging on this particular employer…because, for some reason, I’ve been placed in this awkward position with several other jobs as well.

Which leaves me no choice but to ask – is it ME???!! 

Seriously, I would love to hear from others on this one on whether this is a common occurrence or not.

If not, then maybe I should reconsider searching for employment on Craig’s List.  Just sayin’

Ooh-Rah!

There may be many awful things happening in the world,

Horrible crimes committed by misguided creatures.

And, of course, there’s always the question of

Why “bad things happen to good people.”

But as the riddler runs by

Tossing out excuses

Does he ever stop to gather the answer?

Shit happens

But God’s there with His strength and compassion

Ready to dig us out.

War happens

But soldiers are there with their courage and conviction

Ready to bail us out.

Thank You, Lord, for our veterans!

Happy Veterans Day, America

and Happy 236th Birthday, Marines!

p.s. Thanks for your service, Honey.  Now go out and enjoy that free slurpee or lunch – you deserve it!  Ooh-Rah!

The Weighting Game

At least three times a day, my daughter and I play a game that isn’t fun for either of us. 

The first round, which begins at about six thirty a.m. on weekdays and eight a.m. on weekends, plays like a Pokemon or Bakugan battle arena: 1) Mom rolls the dice to find out what condition Jess will be in when she awakes  2) Mom plays the yellow “bright and cheery good morning” card while she offers a bottle full of 250 calories of nutritional goodness 3) Jessica then selects a red card to counteract Mom’s sugary sweet attack – these cards provide a selection of the following responses – a/ vehemently refuse the bottle and kick mom in the gut,  b/shove the bottle away and smack mom on the arm,  c/accept the bottle and only drink half  4) After playing her card, Jessica rolls the dice to ascertain what Mom’s disposition will be when she responds to her counter attack card.  This round continues on an endless cycle until either Jessica’s bus arrives or an episode of iCarly comes on.

Round 2, which only occurs on weekends or days-off around noon, is strictly verbal and played like a game of Outburst.  Mom always starts first:

“Jessica, what would you like for lunch?”

“Nothing.”

“You have to eat something.  How about a ham sandwich and some applesauce?”

“No.” (Mom then makes a ham sandwich with ten pieces of ham, two slices of cheese and gobs of mayo, and mixes a tbsp of Duocal, a calorie supplement, into a cup of applesauce, and mixes another tbsp of Duocal into a cup of strawberry milk….totaling a meal of approx 850 calories.  Mom sets meal on table in front of Jessica.)

Jessica: “I’m not hungry.”

Mom: “Eat your lunch.  Do you need help?”

Jessica: “No!  I don’t want it!  I want chips.”

Mom: “You can eat chips after you take a bite.”  (Jess takes a bite that would starve an ant.  Mom gives her a potato chip.  Jess takes one hour to eat one chip.  Mom gets Jess to eat a few more bites of sandwich and one bite of applesauce.)  Gameplay continues until Jessica finally eats at least 100 calories.

Round 3 includes the whole family and is played at, you guessed it, dinner time.  This round is a combination of the two previous gameplays with the additional use of the bright, neon, fire engine red card called, “*The Feeding Tube.”  This card, which can be played by all family members excluding Jessica is threatened in the following way: “Jessica, if you don’t eat this, we will have to put you on the feeding tube.”

*Round 4: The Feeding Tube card must be played if the previous three rounds have been unsuccessful.  This game involves the entire family and is played like “Rock ’em, Sock ’em Robots.”  Dad holds Jessica.  Brother holds Jessica’s cup of water with a straw.  Mom attempts to place feeding tube through Jessica’s nose and down her throat into her stomach.  Jessica screams and flails her arms around.

If Round 4 is unsuccessful, which lately has been the case, most likely because Jessica’s back is too twisted to allow the tube to be placed properly, then the entire game must be played again the next day….and the day after that…and the day after that…until my sweet, amazingly adorable 11-year-old daughter who has cerebral palsy, supravulvular pulmonary stenosis, severe scoliosis and a heady case of failure-to-thrive, finally wins this arduous, disheartening, energy-zapping, life-sucking Weighting Game.