IS ANYBODY STILL OUT THERE?
Hello? Is anyone still there?
To say that it's been awhile would be a supreme
understatement. It has been so long that I couldn't even remember my own freaking password! So, how is life out there?
Life here has been insane! For example:
In the past three weeks, HR has been in our office
interrogating all of my of my peers and myself about our boss. Apparently there have been complaints about him. I have complained about him, to his face, but I have never taken it to anyone outside of our department. This is mostly because he is a cranky old fart but decent to work for. Rest assured if I thought he was being an absolute prick I'd be the first one to string his ass up.
They were on such a witch hunt they actually asked whether or not I'd ever overheard him saying something obnoxious about women and their "feminine cycles". I said, "No, but I have told him that I have PMS and a handgun and to stay the hell away from me if he knew what was good for him". They suspend my boss for a week or so, the day before he has promised to take us to Del Fresco's Double Eagle Steak House. Thank God the Director stepped in or there would have been a bigger mutiny than we'd already been thinking of launching.
The Forerunner decides it is going to be a pain and not start. We (actually my husband Peter) replace the belts and it still decides to be difficult.
Auto zone tells him it's the "starter switch" so Peter, with the help of Pan (my brother-in-law), replaces it. It blows out the battery because
Auto zone failed to tell him when you replace the switch, you need to replace the starter. So, this week we are at the mercy of Pan to get me to and from work and the Diva to her new school and the
Little Linebacker to her daycare.
I said get "Me to work" because Peter got laid off from his brand new job on Tuesday. He had worked there exactly eight weeks before the doctor he worked for was "relieved of duty". Don't worry, he actually got his old job back for a bit more money too. He starts Monday. We have to get Pan to work at Hooter's Hotel and Casino before 7:30 and drive half way cross town to get Diva to kindergarten. Then turn around and go past Hooter's to
my job. Needless to say, it is insane!
Speaking of Pan, because I was, just awhile ago...
He is a dumb ass. He has "issues" even if he is my husband's brother. Pan, is into Porn. I don't deal with the porn thing myself and if you do, more power to you when dealing with consenting adults. However, you cross the line when you take pictures of your "parts" and "accidentally" (his words not mine) send them to a
minors phone. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!!!! He is lucky he is still alive and not 50 feet under my concrete slab.
Apparently, in Vegas, you have to show a "pattern" for the D.A. to file charges. They are allowing him this one "accident". No wonder all of the freaks move here! Pan contends he was sending them to the girl's 22-year-old friend and she didn't have a cell phone. Again,
WTF? I cannot fathom sending naked pics of any of my parts to a cell phone or an email address. I really don't see sending them to a minor no matter what the reason.
I get that guys are visual beings. I get that a lot of people are into porn. I am not one of them. My feeling is if you have 200+ porn pics on your laptop and/or women sending you crotch shots, etc. on your phone you are a porn addict. Especially when you leave them out for your girlfriend to see. You are just asking for trouble. Then he doesn't get why his girlfriend tells him to pack his shit and take his wandering eye (and other things) out of her life. Granted the girlfriend is not the sharpest tool. She has caught him cheating many times but takes him back. She hates being without a man so she settles for him. If that is not nauseating, I am not sure what is.
So, we have a sick brother-in-law, a sick car and me sick to my damned stomach. The kids just got over head lice courtesy of Pan's ex-girlfriend's kids. Hers had them for weeks
before she had the courtesy to tell me and read the correct directions on the damned box of RID. For those of you who don't know, it doesn't say "wash hair once a week" it says wash until they are gone. THANK GOD FOR NEON NITS (a story for another day).
To make matters worse...yesterday, they fired my boss.
How have you all been?
Kids say some funny stuff!
Ok, the baby, (future WNFL player) will be two next month. As toddlers are wont to do, she has been trying to assert her independence, and vocalize. While she is not nearly as verbose as the Diva was at her age, she is a pretty sharp little cookie.
She started, like every baby, one word at a time. For the longest time, that word was….”Daddy” (or some variation thereof). The first time she said “Mama” was the butt crack of dawn when she was about 11 months old. That was the first time she had managed to get out of her diaper and finger paint her bed. I was sorry that she’d ever learned to say my name. I am still sorry sometimes. I am the first person she and the Diva call when they want something. The words I really hate to hear from her, especially the mornings when coming from her bedroom I hear:
“Mama, Mama, MAMA! I POOP!” I am never sure whether or not she has pooped in her diaper or stripped and begun finger painting. But she looks so damned cute when she grins and says “Hi Mommy” I could almost forgive her anything.
She has gone from Mama, Daddy, Emmy J (her own derivative of the Diva’s first name) to much more complete sentences.
I can usually hear her saying, “No, no, Tsawah, do it!” Or cuppy, cuppy, muk, pease! Followed more closely by her favorite words….”EAT ! EAT!”
Occasionally she runs around the house and when asked what she is doing she replies: “Tsake, Tsake diapuh”. For the toddler challenged, that’s Shake, Shake diaper (otherwise known as dancing). While Diva could sing words to her favorite songs at that age, (We will Rock You, The First Cut is the Deepest, Sin Wagon), linebacker isn’t much of a singer. As a matter of fact the only song you ever really hear her singing is: “E-I-E-I-OOOO.
We have now started learning the body parts, which brings me to her latest funny.
Hair….Hayah
Eyes…Eyesth
Ear…..Eayah
Lip….Lappp
Leg…Laggg
Hand…Han
Arm…Awm
Elbow….
The little linebacker looks intently at me with her great big brown eyes as though questioning what I am saying. I point to my elbow; I point to her elbow and say again, “Elbow”.
She looks at me blinks her eyes points to her arm and says….”ELMO!”.
After I finished laughing, I tried again…”No baby, Elbow”. “Elmo!”
I bring my brother-in-law “Pan” in the living room and he tries. Again she says, “Elmo”. So he tries another tactic….
Say “El” he tells her, and she says it perfectly. So then her tries the same thing with “bow”. “Bow” the baby, repeats dutifully.
Then he says EL…..BOW. She looks at him, shakes her curly head and says….
“EL…………MO”. She doesn’t care what anybody says…WE may have an ELBOW, but she has an ELMO.
Actually, she has four, if you count the two on her arms.
My Children's chosen professions
Kids are very funny. My two are definitely no exception to that rule. At one point, I thought they were both going to join the entertainment industry and comediennes. But it looks like they have other professions in mind…
One day, I got to the daycare and the little linebacker’s teacher said, “Mrs. Lunatic, how do you keep your daughter’s clothes on?”
To say I was shocked would have been an understatement. Now, the child has stripped before, but only at home. She watches the Diva get ready for her bath and bed so she wants to try and imitate her big sister. But what the teacher was asking goes far beyond the little terror getting ready for bath or bed. Occasionally, she strips in her crib and “finger paints” her sheets. This is usually culminates with me walking into the bedroom with someone saying “Hi Mommy, looka me!” (Gagging and bath water running directly follow this).
According to her teacher, Linebacker strips out of everything ( if you don’t watch her closely) and then gets up on the tables. You heard right, she strips in the middle of her classroom and then proceeds to dance on the tables.
My response: “Hey, all she needs is a pole and she’s set!” Hell, we live in Vegas; she’s in the right spot to be a “Dancer”. At almost two years old, she actually has more rhythm than many of the dancers I have seen. One kid down, one to go…
Diva has decided she likes to mix drinks. We were at a football party one of our friends was throwing. He has a fabulous bar area. Diva was extremely interested in all of the cocktails being created behind said bar. So, our friend “Mr. H” told her to come on back and try her hand at creating a drink. What took place was truly amazing. The child started mixing, with Mr. H’s help, some “gredients”. When all was said and done, she had concocted a really tasty non-alcoholic punch. A splash of Parrot Bay or regular rum and it would have rivaled many an umbrella drink. Next step…FLAIR BARTENDING! They actually have competitions on Food Network for this “sport”. Diva’s cute and if she can master this, she could be very wealthy by the time she is actually old enough to compete in this profession.
Now I know you think I am crazy for suggesting it, but I have a cousin who wanted to be a “Garbage man” at the tender age of eight. I asked his parents, “What the hell happened to Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief?” I mean if you fail to make one of those, then okay I can see settling for garbage man. But where the hell to you go when you start at garbage man? Gas Station attendant? One of my closest friends had twin nieces, her dream for them? To pose together in Playboy!
I hope you realize I am kidding about the kids already picking out their professions. I would probably have heart failure if they really decided to do these things, (especially the stripper). But it did get me to thinking, what in the hell would I do if my kid did want to be a stripper or a “Hooter’s Girl?” I love their wings, and my girls will probably be rather well endowed (Mommy was a 36 C at 16) but to have my girls’ show off “their girls”? I cannot imagine being thrilled about that at all.
Thank God we have a few years before we have to worry about that. Diva doesn’t start kindergarten until August.
The little linebacker’s next big chore? Potty training! Wish me luck.
I Screwed Up
Hi there, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve blogged about anything. The reason isn’t because I have nothing to say, I HAVE NO F****** TIME TO CALL MY OWN!
It doesn’t look like it’s going to get better any time soon. Guess what folks; it looks like we have to find a new place to live.
I know, you are all probably thinking this is Peter’s fault, but actually it’s mine. I mailed the rent check late. I didn’t see the Garbage bill come through. As a result, Republic Services sent a letter to the landlord stating if they didn’t receive payment, they would put a lien on the property. In case you think I am retardedly negligent, which I probably am, we are talking about a quarterly bill and a balance of $85!
Now in my defense, I did mail both bills. Ok, I set them in the “outbox”. I was told, after receiving hate mail about the late rent (okay, hate is a little strong....extreme displeasure mail), that the “letter carrier” (must be PC you know) only picks up the mail if they have something to drop off. This was news to me. Apparently we have a new carrier.
As a result the landlord has basically decided to sell the house deeming it too much trouble to manage. In a way, I can’t blame her. So, it looks like we will be moving by I think March 30th or is that April 30th? I haven’t gotten the letter yet, so I am not 100% sure. But either way, it appears Peter, the Diva, the Little Linebacker and I will be moving, along with two of our three fur creatures. Manner, who came with the house, will have to go to a new home. Thank God for the “Friends of Feral Felines” and other organizations helping “catdom” or I’d be even more depressed than I already am.
While trying to do this, we will have to have the largest garage sale in history to fit shit into a two bedroom apartment. The kids alone have enough crap to fill at least two rooms. Then of course there is all of the crap that Peter hauled from San Antonio, to the Dallas apartment, to the house in Dallas, to the apartment in Vegas to the house in Vegas….need I go on?
Plus, I still have the job from hell. I am currently tasked with turning up a new switch in Irvine, California that needs to be operational by April 15th even though it hasn’t even been purchased yet. I don’t know how the hell it’s going to happen, PFM (Pure Fucking Magic) I suppose. Or, we could go with what my Irvine Tech suggested….plug one end into his ass and another end into the other tech’s ass, and see if they talk. At this point I am truly open for suggestions.
Then of course, there are my family obligations:
My husband hates his job and is actively seeking other employment.
The “Little Diva” is starting kindergarten this fall and I was hoping to get her into a private school since the state of Nevada does not offer all day kindergarten. The little Linebacker is ready to be potty-trained. Not to be outdone, I have two geriatric cats one who needs geriatric cat food and needs his kidney’s flushed every once in awhile, plus meds every month to keep his kidney’s functioning. I have a stray dude that is happy to just be eating regularly. I just love him; he is so low maintenance!
Did I mention the job from hell? I have another switch besides the non-existent one. I also have the responsibility for all “Legacy TP” (the company who bought us in August) for every location they are in except Las Vegas. Then, we get reviews but no one knows yet whether or not we are going to get a cost of living increase,a merit raise, a bonus, or anything. No one has said a word, which leads me to believe we are going to get the shaft. I LOVE MY JOB!!!!
I also take the offspring to do things on the weekends, even when I’d rather hide my head, read a book or finally finish writing my JAG fan fiction that I have been working on for over a year.
Did I mention that I take ten prescription meds daily (some twice a day) get allergy shots every two weeks to boost my immune system and get an IV once a month? At 35, ( or was it 36?), I was diagnosed with something called “Common Variable Disorder” which is a hereditary autoimmune deficiency that hit me when I was about 31. For me it manifests itself as asthma. It can be a pain, but it is more than tolerable. I have a husband, two great kids and cats that make life wonderful (when I am not totally stressed and losing my mind).
So, in short, I had a memory lapse, which is now going to be detrimental to my family. Oh, well, as they say, “this too shall pass.” I have decided to be philosophical about this latest dilemma. I have no doubt that everything will work out. It may not be the way I want it to, but the world will not end, you know?
Life can be terribly overwhelming some times, which is why Lexapro is my new best friend. Now, if I my co-workers and I could just get the winning lottery numbers so I can retire to write fan fiction and children’s books, life would be perfect….sort of.
I AM STILL ALIVE
I know, I know, it has been ages since I've posted. Life has been an absolute bitch recently.
Peter's credit card number was stolen right before Christmas, so, no way to mail assloads of cards and presents. Thank God we'd already taken care of The Diva and the Little Linebacker or we'd have been truly screwed. The Friday before Christmas is when this little "shocker" hits us (of course this isn't until AFTER THE DAMN BANK CLOSES). Then we are fighting with the bank because they can't help us until Tuesday the 26th! Isn't that just lovely.... I love financial institutions...NOT!
They credit about $200 of the over $2000.00 these asswipes stole, while they are doing their "investigation". No problem, my new company is cutting me a check on the 29th because we are moving from getting paid every two weeks to the 15th and the last day of the month schedule. Guess what happens? The credit card, which is actually a VISA Check Card, debits the same $2000.00 from my account AGAIN. New Year's weekend. So, you guessed it, no parties for the Pan family. Shit, not again.
Me, to the bank: What in the blue hell is going on here?
Bank: We are sorry ma'am but we couldn't really investigate until the monies were actually taken from your account.
Me: "How is this possible? The transaction 'disappeared' three days ago. How did it just come back? PFM?"
Bank: If the transaction hasn't cleared after three days, we delete it so that's why it disappeared. However, since Visa had shown it to be fraud, but we originally agreed to pay it, we have to honor the transaction. I am really sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused..."
Me: "INCONVENIENCE THIS MAY HAVE CAUSED? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MINDS? THIS IS SATURDAY OF ANOTHER LONG WEEKEND! I HAVE DAYCARE AND RENT TO PAY. I HAVE A QUARTER OF A TANK OF GAS IN THE FREAKING CAR...."
Bank: "Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do for you until our Fraud department opens on Tuesday. I am sure they will work with you. I have sent the credit diva an email she gets in at 8:00 CST, so you can reach her at 6:00 your time".
Lovely, I have to wake up on Tuesday and threaten to crawl through the phone and kick someone's ass.
So, the money got refunded, sort of. We are still working it out, but we are barely above water right now and I, personally, cannot find my ass with both hands. This is a very scary thought, because my ass is not petite. In fact, other than my wrists and ears, there is not a petite thing on my entire body.
Couple this financial fiasco with a daughter (the Diva) turning five 10 days after Christmas and our finances were a little stretched to say the least. Thank God for Black Friday and the Consignment stores. I spent $300 on Santa, Christmas and Birthday presents. I am a bargain shopper from waaaaaay back. So, the kids were none the wiser with regard to the gifts under the tree. Daddy's gifts came from Fallas Paredes and Susies Deals. He lives in sweatshirt and scrubs.
This, dear friends, is unfortunately not where our nightmare ends....
Peter took a couple of days off from his job. He thought all he had to do was tell his boss. Per Peter, he didn't know there was paperwork to fill out. So, basically he has gone unpaid for all of his days off this year (four of them I believe) because he never thought to ask. Not until, being nosy, I looked at his last paystub of the year and asked why it didn't show his vacation pay. Then he decides to tell me that he didn't know about the paperwork that had to be filled out and neither did the doctor he worked for. Now, I don't know what rock either of them crawled out from under, but I have always had to fill out a vacation or PTO request, regardless of where the hell I was working. WTF? How could you not know?
This isn't even the worst part. Peter, after working for the same company for over a year and a half, got a raise. When I asked what check it would be on, his response?
You guessed it...."I don't know".
How in the hell do you not ask that question?!!! Wait it gets better, or worse, depending on how you look at it.
Peter then informs me, according to his doctor, he was supposed to have gotten a review and a raise after three months! Doctor says, didn't that happen? WHAT! YOU ARE HIS DIRECT SUPERVISOR, HOW THE HELL DON'T YOU KNOW?!
The practice Peter works for has outsourced their "office management". So, they don't do any of the real hiring or firing, or running of the office is what I have been told. But, here's the funny part, the "in-house" liaison for the doctor's office is one of the partners brothers! I bet that doctor's team knows how to fill out paperwork and that it is required for days off. Just call Peter "mushroom".
So, I ask Peter to check with the actual company that oversees the doctors office and ask where this raise is and if it is retroactive to 11 months ago, when said review and raise should have taken place. He has hemmed and hawed because he doesn't want to rock the boat. The more I ask about these things, the more he clams up and says, "they are checking on it, just relax and let him handle it".
That has really worked well so far, hasn't it?
Valium, I need valium, the Lexapro is no longer working.
IT'S OFFICIAL
Hi, remember me? I am still a wife and I am still a lunatic. The only difference, is that it's official....I AM FORTY!
No matter how many times I type that, I am not sure I will ever get over seeing it. It makes me feel so old. It reminds me of a shirt my Auntie bought my Mom at Six Flags one year. It showed a woman screaming and the caption read "My Worst Nightmare has come true....I HAVE BECOME MY MOTHER". Okay, it's not quite that bad. I am definitely not my mother, or mother-in-law, sister or sister-in-law.
The reason I know this? I'd still rather get hit by a car than wear assloads of makeup all day. No, they don't really cake the stuff on, but they all have a problem, for the most part, with leaving the house without any on. I, on the other hand, have no such compunction. As a matter of fact, I wear it so infreqeuently, that people notice when I do. Personally, I think makeup should be reserved for special occasions (weddings, anniversaries, corporate officers coming to the building...Halloween).
Don't get me wrong, I like makeup, I own plenty. I just don't like to wear it. I actually own some very nice stuff; it's not cheap either. Any time someone does a Mary Kay, Avon or some other type of makeover, I am usually invited. I don't enjoy the parties because I am always the oddball. But I like the pretty colors and usually the end result. So much so, that I almost always purchase, some, if not all that I tried on. One of my friends once called me "a contradiction". I have to say, I resemble that remark. It's one of those things I have to "own" about myself.
I was going to tell you about my birthday, but there really wasn't much to tell. My sister gave me a gift certificate to Amazon.com. I bought JAG Season 2 (let's not even start on that, or I will never finish this blog), Grey's Anatomy Season 1 (used) and three books. My Mom and her husband sent me books, new earrings and I loved it. My Aunt and her partner got me some much needed new clothes. I have to take the jacket back because my damned boobs are too big (we'll address that at a later time)! My kids made me cards and did artwork. They also helped me cook my birthday dinner. You read right, I cooked my own damned dinner for my birthday ....AGAIN!
I know, you want to know what "Peter" did for me. The answer, not a freaking thing! He swore, that he'd remember and make sure my birthday wasn't as miserable as last year. Well, he lied. This one was worse. He had football practice and couldn't miss it for my birthday but the following night, it was ok for him to stay home because he needed to fill out an application! WTF?!!!
Then, the cretin has the audacity to be upset because I didn't cook dinner the night he stayed home. Cook? Hell, I could barely look at him for the first couple of hours. Then when I ask why he did what he did...his response: "I guess I was trying to be a dick." As you can see, he succeeded in his quest.
Now, if I'd never done anything for his birthday, I could completely understand this behavior. The truth is, regardless of how broke we were, I have done my damndest to make sure his birthday is pleasant. Two of my male co-workers said, "it's just a guy thing." But even they conceded, that had they pulled a stunt like that with their wives, the bed might be burning. But then they've been married 10+ years. Apparently guys have to be trained to do even the simplest things, like acknowledging their spouses birthdays. Now, understand, he was aware it was my birthday, he just did nothing to celebrate. According to said co-workers, guys catch on somewhere around years 7-10. If not, they end up in on the couch, or worst case scenario...the burning bed.
Peter doesn't have that long to start acknowledging special occassions. If he forgets after this year, screw the burning bed...
Just call me "Lorena".
What Kind of Person?
I have two little girls as I am sure I've mentioned previously. "Diva" will be five in January. She is the first grandchild on my side of the family and the first granddaughter on Peter's side. Little Linebacker is the second grandchild on my side, second granddaughter, but fourth grandchild on Peter's side.
I have created webpages for both of them and both have guest books that people can sign if they so choose.
Sunday, I updated both the Diva and the little Linebacker's pages. Imagine my surprise, when upon checking my email Monday, I am notified that my father-in-law has signed Diva's book but not the baby's. Now, while I call baby, "the Little Linebacker", she is a beautiful little girl in her own right. She just happens to be 25 pounds and 31 1/2 inches long at almost 17 months old. She also loves watching Wrestling with her Daddy and her Uncle. She even does WWE Wrestler, John Cena's, "You Can't See Me" hand wave. It's hysterical.
"Diva" is a girly girl and equally beautiful both inside and out.
I can understand my father-in-law being enamored with his eldest granddaughter to a certain degree. Before Peter and I even got married, he requested a granddaughter. He already had one grandson and his daughter, Peter's sister, was expecting my second nephew. Moreover, he thinks his daughter hung the moon, while both my husband Peter and little brother "Pan" cannot do anything right in his eyes. In short, he plays favorites.
I tried to ignore it at first. Actually, I even tried to convince myself that the reason my in-law's spent so little time with the baby when they were visiting was because she was little. I know, I know, that was a load of crap, because they wanted Diva every chance they could get her on previous visits, no matter how small she was at the time. Truthfully, my father wanted more time with Diva. That was ok this time, because the baby was barely a year old. But I am concerned that he is setting a precedence.
This is what he wrote in Diva's guest book:
"Diva" You are very cute and sweet. This is papa # 1 grand daughter. Papa is very proud and love's you very much." What the hell? He can't go to the baby's page and write something nice? Doesn't he love her too? Or is she just chopped liver? I was and still am, offended on the Little Linebacker's behalf. She is every bit as special as her big sister. What kind of a Grandfather would do something like this?
I am most indignant because I am worried that he will continue this behavior when they are older. The last thing I need is one kid who believes she hung the moon and one with self-esteem issues courtesy of her GRANDFATHER. How screwed up would that be? Growing up is hard enough without adding even more sibling rivalry.
Am I worried for nothing? Or is my father-in-law just screwed in the head? You be the judge.
