Catch-Up Time: Best and Worst!

Helllloooooo!  First things first.  Yes, I know I've been seriously MIA 'round these parts. My apologies to those who give a flying fig (you know who you are!). I've been busy trying to change my (work) life, which is a lot harder than it sounds, so I let the OOBH slide a bit.  Still love ya, though, and I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things pronto.

So, let's catch up! I thought I'd review the best and worst stuff that's been going on in my little corner of the world. I'll do my best to keep this brief, but I can't make any promises.

The Best

Tina Fey's book.

Holy shnikeys, this woman can write. The book is simply awesome. She shares little bits of wisdom that she's picked up over the course of her career as a writer and entertainer, but she's not obnoxious about dropping this knowledge.  She's infinitely self-deprecating and aware of how fortunate she is, while also acknowledging the hard work she put in to get where she is.  I learned a lot, and most of all,  laughed a lot.  This is stay-up-late-laughing-out-loud-by-yourself-in-your-silent-living-room good.

Learning to shut my pie hole.
I've been working hard on another personal goal lately, and that is to stop giving such a tremendous fuck about everything. I've been much happier. Now, when someone says something childish or annoying to me, I restrain myself and don't respond.  This is huge for me, because previously I'd get into it with them and get myself all worked up, which really helps no one.

Something else I learned from Tina Fey--when someone acts badly you have to ask yourself if s/he is standing in the way of what you want.  If not, ignore them and go about your business. You're not going to change their mind, so why bother?  If they are in your way, find a way around them -- over, under, around!

Seriously, read the book.

The Worst

The ticks

I'm not sure if this is a sign of the impending Rapture or what, but the goddamn motherfucking TICKS have already started their campaign to rule the world.  Is it a bad tick year for everyone, or just ME?  It started about two weeks ago when my youngest son wandered up to me with a tick attached to his chest.  I was totally skeeved out, naturally, but I plucked that sucker off of him and took great pleasure in squishing it till it couldn't be squished no mo'.  Little did I know that that tick had a legion of friends in low places.

A few days later, Jim took the dog for a walk and came home covered... and I do mean COVERED... in disgusting, crawling ticks.  This is how I got the honor of searching my naked husband's nooks and crannies for creepy-crawlies, which was highly unpleasant for us both.  Later that night I found three more of the stubborn bastards on the dog despite being freshly dosed with Frontline, and worst yet, the next day as I sat at work I felt something tickling my arm under the shirt.  Sure as shit, there was a tick crawling on me!  And this was after TWO showers! This morning I found another one on my pant leg.

As a certifiable arachnophobe, this WILL NOT DO.  I've cleaned my house top to bottom, done all the laundry in HOT water, and am one step away from setting off some sort of chemical bomb in my home to make sure I never see another blood-sucking fuckazoid again. FML!

The Day Job
At the risk of being dooced, which is a chance I'm clearly willing to take, I will say that things have gone from bad to worse at my day job. 

Let's put it this way: if you could choose between sitting 4 feet away from a micromanaging boss with no concept of personal space OR an elderly cat lady who chatters like a deranged squirrel all day, which would you choose?  Tough one, innit?

I'm not about to jump into another crap job that might turn out to be worse than this one, so until the perfect gig comes along, I'm sticking it out. But I'm working on it every day and outwardly maintaining my usual sunny disposition, which is all I can do.


The Rain
It has been gray, overcast, and raining steadily for a week now.  I'd make a joke about building an ark and all that, but frankly I'm too tired.  I'm either suffering from SAD or Lyme disease, both of which are super-duper awesome, right?  

Don't act like you're not impressed.

So there you have it! I have so much more to say -- we didn't even get into the whole Arnold Swartzenegger diddling the maid thing or the fact that Hanson has a number 1 song on the charts again (a sure sign of the impending apocalypse)! But I've got work to do, so I'll sign off even with all of this unfinished business.

What have YOU been up to? What's the best and worst stuff happening in your life?

I Was So Much Older Then (Updated!)

I'm younger than that now.

I was reminded of that line by Bob Dylan the other day when I had a series of awkward conversations with the new girl at work, who may or may not also work as a stripper as her other job.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.  The Bev doesn't judge.  In fact, when I heard that one of the new advisors (a notorious but unlikely-looking playboy) was thinking of hiring one of his ultra-young paramours as an assistant, I was secretly thrilled.  I hardly socialize with any of the uptight stuffy folks here in my little office, choosing to keep to myself aside from brief, polite exchanges when proximity requires them, so the idea that someone with a little pizazz and a little raunch was coming into the office was exciting.  The fact that my other female coworkers were scandalized just sweetened the deal.  Bring.  It.  On!

Enter the new girl.  It's not clear whether or not she was/is a stripper at all, but she is very young and very pretty.  She's got a lot of tattoos, including the ever-popular upper arm barbed-wire and a tramp stamp.  She wears a lot of make up and perfume but dresses appropriately, if not a little too nicely for our laid-back office.  All of our exchanges had been brief but I helped her learn the ropes quite a bit for her first week.  She was nice but a little... off, somehow.  Socially awkward.  She had a hard time maintaining eye contact, talked very fast, and asked weird questions at weird times.

I quickly decided that she and I would interact just as I do with the rest of the coworkers with whom I have nothing in common; that is to say, only when necessary.  Next thing you know, she keeps coming by my desk awkwardly trying to chat, which is not something that I encourage.  I have work to do and an overly-talkative crazy cat lady coworker to contend with on the best of days.  Plus, I sneak in quite a bit of my own writing (including this blog!) during my down time rather than make idle, forced chit-chat with anyone.  Call me reclusive, I don't care.  I don't come to work to socialize at this point in my life.  I want to do my job, collect my paycheck, and get the heck outta Dodge.

What followed were two extremely bizarre conversations that left me scratching my head and mentally adding her to "THE LIST."

The other day I'm making copies and sending out a fax.  She enters and blurts out, "Are you married?"  I said that I was, and then she proceeded to ask me a series of increasingly personal questions.   I was already edging towards the door as politely as I could when she asked if I have kids.  I said, "Yes, I have two boys.  They are seven and three."  She then said, "Oh, I have two boys too!  But they're rats.  Their names are Collin and Brandon."

I just smiled blankly.  Did she just compare my children to her pet rodents?

I asked her a few cursory questions about the vermin, but she wouldn't let me go just yet.  She asked if I have any pets and I told her we'd just gotten a kitten.  She then launched into a 10 minute tirade about how important it is to spay or neuter your pet, and if I didn't do that then I was practically abusing my kitten.

HELLO?  First of all, I've owned more pets in my lifetime than I can count on both hands, I used to volunteer at the Humane Society, and I guarantee that I've owned pets for longer than this skinny bitch has been alive.  Plus, my kitten is 10 weeks old - far too young to be spayed.  Maybe find out a little something about me as a pet owner before lecturing me for 10 minutes about something that I already agree with, ya' fuckin' weirdo!

I walked away scratching my head and muttering under my breath, but otherwise dismissed the incident as "Okay, the new girl is kind of odd."

The next day she showed up with a bag of stuff "for me."  Turns out, Skanky McSkinny-Bones is an Herbalife consultant on the side, so she oh-so-helpfully brought me in a whole bunch of samples because I've been getting over a cold.  Sounds nice enough, right?  Completely  unwanted, but nice.  Until she hauled out packets of weight loss shakes and thrust them at me.

Oh no she di'nt!

Let's get this straight.  I definitely don't have spare cash to be dropping on overpriced echinacea tablets, nor do I have the desire to starve myself or drink my meals in an effort to be skinny.  I like my curves, even the ones that I'm currently working on paring down after enjoying a little too much BBQ & beer this summer.  More importantly, who does that?  Who just shows up and says, "You must need these weight loss shakes since you're such a cow," after working with someone for less than a week?  Bitch best step off.

Later I saw that she had put a little Herbalife display up in the kitchen, leading everyone who walked in to ask who the fuck was trying to hock their wares in the break room, and IS SHE CALLING US FAT?!

For the first time ever, I actually bonded with my coworkers because of our mutual confusion caused by the crazy new girl.  So there's that.

On the way home from work I was telling Jim all about it and we had a lot of laughs at her expense.  We agreed that she is in that 20-something bubble when you think you know everything and have it all figured out, before the bottom falls out and bad shit happens in your life and you realize that you don't know your ass from your elbow about how life works.

I truly believe that age can bring wisdom, but really we just get wise to the fact that we don't know jack. 

*******UPDATE*******


Guess who was "let-go" this morning, right after I hit Publish on this post?  I'm a little freaked out.  *glancing over shoulder*  Is this place bugged?  


Yikes!  Back to the pole you go, Herb-Girl!

On Owls and Caterpillars

Last night was a boring Monday night and I had nothing better to do than screw around on Facebook and browse eBay for shit that I don't need, so that's exactly what I was doing.  I often find myself in strange corners of the eBay empire, and I have no idea why but last night I wound up looking at owl-related merch.  One click just lead to another and before you can say, "hooters" I realized that I totally dig owls.

Yes, owls.

Don't look at me like that.

So, it turns out, I now dig owl collectibles.  There I was thinking to myself, "Wow, that's cute.  Oooh, I like those bookends.  Lenox makes owl figurines?  How pretty.  Hmmm, I want that."

WTF, right?  Has that ever happened to you?  You're shopping and all of a sudden your own tastes surprise the hell out of you?  It actually happens to me a lot; I'm about to make fun of something and then I realize that deep down, I think it's kind of neat.

Oddly enough, none of my Facebook friends were overly-surprised by my sudden owl fixation. I guess they're just used to me being... uhh... let's go with quirky.  Then an old friend reminded me of something I wrote on a group website many years ago, back when the OOBH was just a twinkle in my eye.  Since today's post is just a big old pile of steaming randomness, I'll tell you about the worst gift I've ever given someone.

When I first started my crap job and didn't know better, my crazy cat lady coworker convinced me that we should get our boss a birthday gift and do the whole forced-fun office cake party thing. Now, let it be known that I detest the office cake party, especially since I had only been here for a few months but had already determined that the majority of my coworkers were douchebags. However, since I like my boss and was new to the scene, I went along with it.

I gave Crazy my $10 and half-listened as she detailed some "adorable" golf-related item that she thought he'd just love to have in his office.

The day of the cake party arrived and we dragged everyone into the conference room for a half-hearted round of the birthday song and some store-bought cake. Then, with a flourish and a great deal of pomp & circumstance, Crazy unveiled the birthday gift that "we" had so lovingly picked out for him:

Ta-DAAAAAAA!

And so it was that I unwittingly gave a 55-year old man a 12" tall statue of a caterpillar playing golf.

I was mortified. He stammered and exclaimed, "Oh! Well, look at that." Everyone in the office stifled giggles and suddenly heard their phones ringing down the hall. Crazy beamed proudly. I wanted to melt into the carpet and disappear.

That was seven years ago and the caterpillar still stands on a filing cabinet in his office. Occasionally he clears out his knick-knacks (all sports-related memorabilia, some of it valuable), but I know he feels that he must display the caterpillar until the end of time because we, his adoring employees, gave it to him.

From then on out I made sure that I always take the day off on my birthday, and oddly-enough, so does my boss.

Of  course, this post begs the question:

What's the worst gift you've ever gotten and had to pretend to like?

Is it Awards Season already?

I know it's Thursday, but I don't feel like spilling TMI today. I did enough of that on Tuesday what with all my blabbing about Dr. Dong, etc, don't ya think? Btw, thanks for ALL of your kind words and comments. You are the wind beneath my wings! For rlz.

What I do feel like doing today is saying thanks to some sweet peeps who gave me awards recently.

Tamara at Nesting Pretty and Jessica O. at Agave Butterfly gave me the Sunshine Award because I'm so bright and shiny and shit. Thank you, ladies!

I'd like to pass the Sunshine Award on to a few people who always make me smile when I hear from them:
Rich Girl Red
Big Sis
Mjenks
Brooklyn ML
Tracey
Harmony
Liz

I am rather shiny and happy today because the weather is outstanding. Of course, I am stuck inside working so I can't go out and enjoy it, but I am still loving the sunshine and blue skies outside my window. Today's annoying work situation comes in the form of a high-pitched alarm that's coming from the telephone equipment closet. I've already called the phone company and they're supposed to come fix it, but not before every single person who walks through my office asks me what it is, tells me it's annoying (duh), and asks when it will be fixed.

ANYWHO. Back to the awards!

Stacie gave me this "awesome commenter" award, which is nice of her considering that I've been terrible about commenting on all of your blogs lately. Sorry about that... been busy. She asked some Q's to go along with the award, so I'll answer.


1) A night in or a night out?

I love nights out, but most of the time I stay in. I'm a homebody.

2) Movies at the theater or in your own home?

In my home.

3) If you found your Ex on Facebook/Myspace would you stalk their page?

Um, definitely. Duh.

4) Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall?

Fall.

5) Do you tell your best friends EVERYTHING?

Just about, but I do keep some secrets to myself. Some things are just too private to share with anyone.

6) Does your family know about your blog?

My sister and husband do, but otherwise, no. And the hubby rarely reads it.


7) Are you a mysterious person or a tell all person?

Mostly tell-all. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and if you hurt my feelings, I will say so.

8) Why do you blog?

I need a creative outlet, I love to write, and I dig attention. What? I said I was honest.

9) What are some issues you refuse to blog about?

Sex with my husband, politics & religion.

10) HOW MUCH DO YOU LOVE ME? ;)

A whole helluva LOT!

Since this award is for great commenters, I will pass this along to everyone on my top 10 commenter list! Currently that means the following 10 people are charged with answering my silly questions whenever they get around to it. If you don't want to make a post on your blogs, just answer in the comment section, mkay? Also, anyone who isn't on the Top 10 Commenters list can still answer in the comment section. I'd love to hear your answers!

Frank Irwin
Mala
MtnMama
Samsmama
Salt
onebadmamajama
Heidi Renée
Elliott
Cary

Okay, Stacie already GAVE me the award, so I guess I can't really give it back to her. So I'd like to add Senorita to the list as well.

My 10 questions:

1. What is your most embarrassing moment of all time?
2. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?
3. How old were you when you had your first kiss?
4. What is your browser's home page?
5. What color do you never, ever wear?
6. Are you a nature-lover or a city-slicker?
7. If you were granted 3 wishes, what would they be? (none of that "more wishes" crap!)
8. Do you have any scars? How'd you get them?
9. Ever seen a ghost?
10. What is your dream job?

Have fun! I'm looking forward to hearing your answers.

If I weren't a big chicken

I'd post some vaguely creepy and funny (to me) status reports on Facebook. Why? Because I feel like it. It's kind of like my version of shooting a man in Reno just to watch him die.



I mind my manners on FB, and not just because my mom is one of those silent observers on my friends list who doesn't ever post anything but I know she can seeeeeeeee me. Not that her pseudo-presence has stopped me from being my usual pervy self at all; there's no force in nature that could transform me into a boring ol' prude.

No, I edit myself because I do believe that a little something called TMI exists when in the mixed company of FB and other social networking sites. Here on my own personal blog, however, I can be as crass and boob-centric as I want, right?

AND YOU WILL LIKE IT, gosh-darn it.

::GRIN::

Ok, without further ado, here are some of my most recent status report rejects; I'd have loved to post 'em, but didn't due to my high levels of class and good taste. [cough] Shut up.

Beverly...

is regretting the lunchtime burrito that resulted in scorching, room-clearing gas.

thinks you're a dumbass.

just made sweet love to a bowl of Breyer's Vanilla Fudge Twirl.

is poppin' 'dat ass.

thinks people who write half-page status reports chronicling their every waking thought and bodily function (and those of their children) should probably get a fucking life and should definitely STFU.



absolutely loathes someone on her FB friends list. Is it you? Heh heh.



There, I feel better. Just had to get those out there.

In other news, this morning I heard SpongeBob utter the words, "Patrick, how are you gonna beat off two guys at once?"



That's all I got. I'm cranky as a mofo today, so my work peeps best leave The Bev alone or risk getting their heads bitten off. Seriously. I'm in no mood for BS.

All of the mock good will and harmony from the holidays has dissipated and I'm back to thinking they're all a bunch of whiny asshats with nothing better to do than bitch about the coffee machine or count the number of burned-out light bulbs in the lobby ceiling and report back to me. True story.

They suck.

You, however? You I like.

Have a pleasant Thursday!

69, Dude! Plus, what is it about musicians...

that makes them so GD sexy?

I was watching SNL last weekend and the musical guest was Muse. I like Muse in small doses; I discovered them when I read the Twilight series because, as you may know, Twilight author Stephenie Meyer was inspired by the band while writing all four of her treacly vamp novels. She even goes so far as to thank them in the acknowledgement at the beginning of each book, which always cracks me up because here she is, this very proper Mormon mother of three, who loves somber, angsty Eurotrash music.

I remember going to iTunes and downloading their Black Holes And Revelations album right before we had a long car trip planned. Jim and I rocked it out in the car on the way to PA and found them to be enjoyable, albeit rather heavy for us at times. In fact, we dubbed them "Wyld Stallyns*," and you'd better believe there was a lot of air-guitaring and crazy-eyes going on in the car that day. What can I say? We commit.

I find some of their songs to be extremely sexy. I really love Supermassive Black Hole, Knights of Cyrdonia, and Uprising, for instance. They have a heavy bassline, keening vocals, and a sort of funky electronica element. I dig it.

The band, however, is kind of fug. Bad teeth. Skinny. Pale. Not my cup o' tea, looks-wise.



Yet, when I see them play like I did on SNL the other night I think they're sexy as hell. Why is that? What is it about musicians that makes my heart race and my knees part weak? Part of it is talent, yes; I have a thing for talented men, and I always have. But there is more to it than that.

Is it that they have rhythm? Does that fact somehow translate to some sort of carnal knowledge that they will be good in the sack? Is it that they're great showmen who can work a crowd, AKA: they've got confidence? Yes and yes. Is it the fact that they could, ostensibly, have any woman that they want? Yes.

So they're fug. I still think they're hot for some odd reason.

My husband is not a musician but he is a massive music lover. He plays no instruments but is a music collector and kindly gives my very different musical tastes a fair listen. He doesn't criticize me for liking alternative music and Lady Gaga and I don't criticize him for being a die-hard Dead Head.

Every other guy I have ever dated was a musician. I've even fallen for guys before I knew they were musically-inclined. I'm a band groupie from way back, apparently.

So, there's that.

* In other news, today a lovely reader named Anne became follower #69, DUDES!



Thanks for making my Festivus dream come true, Anne!! Welcome to the OOBH. We've been expecting you....

In about an hour I'll be enduring our annual Yankee Swap and potluck lunch here at My Crap Job. You may remember me griping about it last December in my Schweddy Balls post. Some things never change. I requested that S. make her Schweddy Balls again this year and she obliged, so at least I can pop a couple of those rum-soaked bad boys and get my buzz on. My motto regarding my cow-workers this year has been a simple one: Fuck 'em! I've been so much happier ever since I decided not to give a crap.

Hasta la vista, babies!

Ding dong, you messed with the wrong chick!

Happy Monday, folks! Did you all have a nice weekend? I did! On Saturday I gathered my fellow immature Twilight-loving friends and we saw New Moon. It was great! Of course, before the movie we had dinner and many, many Cosmos, so I'm pretty sure any movie we saw would have been great in that frame of mind, but whatever. I loved it and can't wait to see it again when I can remember it all.

I'll throw up a couple of photos, but that's really not what this post is about, so I'll make it quick:



Oh, and we had so much fun cruising in Laurie's Mini Cooper with the top down (in November - love this warm weather!) that we all felt like teenagers again. Good times....


Okay, moving on. I have to share an inspirational work story on this Monday morning when many of us are working and perhaps subsequently hatin' life. I think it's safe to say that we've all worked with a certifiable bitch before, right? I mean, there are so many bitchy & mean people in the world, you're just bound to run into one at some point in your career. In my case, I work with lots of 'em - both male and female - but you all know that Nasty Bitch Nancy gets under my skin more than most. She's the coffee Nazi who acts like I cut off a body part if I allow the creamer to run low? The one who leaves me passive-aggressive notes about mysterious rodent-related odors? Yeah, her.

Anyway, this post isn't about her, it's about someone my good friend Dorothy* encountered recently.

Dorothy works for a medium-sized company and is pretty high up the chain of command, just under the VP-level. She works hard and keeps her head down, doesn't cause trouble, and is well-liked by everyone and well-respected by her superiors. Recently Dorothy had a run-in with Evilene, a woman who worked in a lateral position and who had a reputation of being difficult and vulgar at work. Evilene had worked there for 12+ years and therefore felt entitled to curse openly and berate people on a daily basis. Several VP's had been told not to deal with Evilene anymore, but to go through Dorothy instead. People feared Evilene's wrath and avoided her, yet her job was safe for some odd reason. It was as if no one could touch her, and with every day her unchecked vindictiveness grew until the very air around her seemed to glow with aggression and rage.

One day last week, Evilene made a mistake at work that directly affected Dorothy. Dorothy, ever the dutiful worker, approached her on a quiet day in the office when many people were out at a meeting. When our friend Dot showed Evilene the email from last August that backed her up and incriminated Evilene, Evilene told her she didn't care about "her fucking email" and then called her a "fucking backstabber." Dorothy, ever the composed and intelligent worker, quietly retreated to the bathroom to wash her face and try to get her blood pressure back down to a normal level.

Later, she sent an email to Evilene's boss and HR, telling them what had happened. When they asked Evilene about it, Evilene denied it ever happened and since the office was nearly-empty and those people who were close to the scene work directly for Evilene, no one came forward to back up poor Dorothy. Several people, however, admitted that Evilene had it out for Dorothy and had been heard loudly calling her vulgar obscenities that very day.

Alas, with no proof and no witnesses, it seemed that Dorothy would just become yet another casualty of Evilene's cruelty.

BUT WAIT, there's more!

The following Monday morning, a day just like this one, Dorothy went to work to find that HR and the boss had decided that Evilene had gone too far at last. Apparently, Dorothy's stellar record of not being a horrible gossiping lying hag was all the proof that they needed; it was the last straw for that camel's back. The company decided that Dorothy was too important to be treated in such a manner, so they did the unthinkable - they fired Evilene! She was gone, gone, gone by the time Dorothy took off her coat on Monday morning! Sometimes nice guys DO finish first!

Throughout the day that day, Dorothy saw several people who had worked under Evilene who looked like they'd been crying. She felt badly that she had essentially caused the termination of someone so beloved; Dorothy is not one to cause turmoil, after all. Yet later that day one of them approached her with something like reverence in her eyes, and Dorothy asked her if she was okay.

Turns out, the munchkins were not weeping tears of sorrow; they were rejoicing because Dorothy had killed The Wicked Witch!



Ding dong, the witch is dead! They immediately started planning a parade in her honor and have assured Dorothy that the ruby slippers are forthcoming. She is a working class hero, and all is well in the Land of Oz once more.



A day later, the brakes on Dorothy's car suddenly went out, but we're sure that was just a coincidence.

So, you see? Good things can happen at work. Sometimes karma gets it right.


* Names changed to protect the livelihood of the innocent.

Misery, thy name is Monday

Sorry I've been a bit absent lately. I have no real excuse for not blogging these past few days except that I've got a head cold and work has been issuing daily beatings in the form of irate clients and cantankerous coworkers.

My weekend was pretty good, but boring. D won first place in the Cub Scouts soap box derby, so it was a proud day in the Bevtastic household.

<---- "I piss excellence."

His prize was a $15 Walmart gift card which immediately started burning a hole in his pocket, so J took him there to exchange it for an Indiana Jones Lego kit and some candy. The thing about my kid is that sugar hits him exactly as I suspect crack cocaine might hit him; within a minute or so of consumption his eyes start darting back and forth and he gets really spazzy. In fact he acts kind of like a dog who is chasing his tail, except with more noise and less slobbering. Well, usually less slobbering.

What else? Hmmm.... Okay, two little things about my crap job that are both irritating and cracking me up today. The first is that my boss is in the hospital suffering from kidney stones, poor fellow -- I've heard they're terribly painful -- so I'm manning the fort here with just my crazy cat lady coworker. As usual she is jabbering at me even as I write this blog post. Hard to believe, right? I'm THAT good at ignoring her! It has taken me 6 years to perfect my aura of impenetrable calmness, but I think it was worth the effort.

Anyway, boss called me a few hours ago all doped up on morphine and tried to work through his haze, because heaven forbid he just take the freaking day off once in a while. It must be hard to be so indispensable, but I honestly wouldn't know. ;) He tried to give me a few instructions for some client work that needs to be done, and those instructions went a little something like this:

1. Sell all of Client McStinkypants' Chevron stock. It's in one of her accounts.

2. Call Client Dingleberry and tell them mumble-mumble-money-eat-paste-mumble.

3. I got that check from Client Golddigger on Saturday, but I'm sorry I don't remember where it is. Maybe my briefcase? Or on my desk? Maybe on the floor of my car? Can you find it because it's for $90,000 and we should probably overnight it to the home office. (I can't find it, btw)

After that fun conversation I got to talk to a certifiably crazy woman who recently inherited $5,000 and you'd think that if she didn't get that money yesterday that the world was coming to an end. Now, over the course of my strange little life I have talked to some incredibly stoned people who made far more sense than she did, so frankly I wonder what she is on. I wish I had some of whatever it is, 'cause that must be some good shit! Talking to her got me all agitated and made me see red for a while I admit, but then I pictured her wearing a tinfoil hat and eating a corn dog and I felt better. It's the little things, you know?



So that's what's going on with me! How are all my paz-eeps today? Good, I hope! I need to go eat something before I gnaw through my desk like a wee little beaver. Yeah, I said beaver. Ya heard me.

Unintentional Hilarity

Good morning, my lovely bloggy buddies. Have I told you lately that I love you? 'Cuz I do. Sorry, I'm feeling a little shmoopy this morning. It happens -- ignore me.

No, wait, don't really ignore me! I have stuff to say!

This morning when I got to work I found a little bit of comic gold waiting for me. I'm sure you all know by now that part of my job is to be the office manager for a group of humorless assclowns financial advisors, which basically means that everyone in the office feels entitled to bother me with all of the office's perceived flaws and short-comings. If we're down to 3 rolls of TP in the closet, you better believe I'm gonna hear about it. If the copy machine sucks in more than one page of paper at a time, it's my problem. Low on coffee creamer - RED ALERT! Drop everything!

You get the idea. It's super fun (NOT) and I can't believe I've been selling myself out for as long as I have, but whatever. It pays the bills and it couldn't be more easy or flexible, so I put my ego and sense of self-worth in a jar each day between the hours of 8:30 and 4 and suck it up. Today when I got to work I found this note, and I couldn't help myself; I pulled out my cell and took a picture and said to my crazy cat lady coworker, "I just have to prove to my friends that this is really my life."

Behold the lameness:


I'll alert the media! Shall I get out my sledge hammer and hard hat and start busting open the walls to locate the decaying rodent? Perhaps I should call the police to come investigate to make sure it's not a dead hooker that someone stashed in the utility closet? Honestly, what is it that they expect me to do about a mysterious odor with no apparent source?

The solution I'd LIKE to use is to drop off a box of Glade Plug-Ins on the note-writer's desk and leave her a note of my own. Something along the lines of,

"Maybe these will help with the mysterious odor. If you need ideas on where to stick them, just let me know."

ANYWHO.

What else is new? I had a nice day off yesterday, so I'm feeling sprightly and refreshed today. No, really! I did some laundry then went and got my hair done. Obsession is a strong word, so I'll just say that my fondness for Zooey Deschanel has peaked, so I decided to go all out and get some bangs because I dig her look. I don't think this pic does my 'do justice -- I got a bunch of funky highlights that you can't see in this light, but you get the idea:



After my hair appointment I went over Laurie's and hung out a bit, then she and her daughter and I went and did a little shopping and had dinner. Laurie's new car is pretty sweeeeeeet - she's got a bright red Mini Cooper convertible, and I can't wait to ride in it this weekend with the top down. I'm gonna don a head scarf and go all Thelma & Louise on yo' asses. Trust.

So, all in all, it was a great day. I shall cling to it today as I suffer the quiet desperation of my day-to-day work existence. Good things lie ahead for the weekend, and I plan to rock n' roll all night (and party every day)... and you know I'll take pictures.

Back to the shmoopiness -- you're all awesome and intelligent and The Bev loves you. Can you feel it? (no, not that... pervs) One last thing -- congrats to Frank for making it to numero uno on the comment list! It's so nice when hard work pays off. Well done, and thank you all for your hilarious comments. I live for them.
*MUAH*

Bev Versus the Volcano

WARNING: This post contains no boobs and no booze. I've been accused of "going all introspective and philosophical" on yo' asses, so be ye forewarned, and proceed at will!

(Happy, Kate? teehee)

One night when I was a teenager my parents had plans for the evening and I had the house to myself. This was a rare occurrence; my parents were the ultimate homebodies and didn't often stay out past 9 PM. I had no plans with my friends and was happy to have some alone time. Even then, I cherished a few hours of solitude and used those hours much the same way that I would use them now: by watching a movie and eating something crunchy and salty with a high fat content. Some things really don't ever change.

That night I had gone to the video rental store and picked up a movie starring Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan called Joe Versus The Volcano. I watched it all... and hated it. Really, really hated it. I thought it wasn't funny and was dull just plain stupid.

It wasn't until many years later that I watched the movie again and saw what the film makers were trying to achieve. Sure, it's ridiculous and the climactic scenes are completely absurd, but there is a much deeper and more poignant theme at work if you overlook the dumb stuff. There is symbolism - the recurring lightning bolt, the flower defying the odds by growing through the crack in the sidewalk only to be stepped upon by the masses, the brain cloud, the flickering and buzzing of the florescent light bulbs in Joe's office, the mixing of the cold, blue imagery of work with the warm reds of the tropics. The tropics themselves ultimately symbolize Joe's salvation. Even the fact that Meg Ryan portrays three separate but somehow interconnected characters is a commentary, of sorts.

What I never got before is the movie's message, and maybe I never saw it because I had not yet experienced the monotony of rising every morning and going to a job that is, quite literally, draining your soul. I couldn't know at age 16 that I too would someday discover that all of the body and head aches I feel while sitting at work will drop away like petals from a flower as I get in my car and drive away from the building. How could I know then that I would someday feel like I, too, have a brain cloud between the hours of 9-5?

One scene in particular stands out in my mind, in which Joe has his big epiphany. He is staring at the moon while stranded in the middle of the Pacific on a raft made out of his luggage, and he says, "I forgot how big it is."



Now, I know just what he meant. Every once in a while you find yourself looking at something in nature that makes you realize how huge it is, and how insignificant we are in comparison. You forget that there are planets, galaxies, and the unfathomable vastness of space out there. The day to day drudgery keeps us from seeing the forest for the trees, and if you're not careful it will bog you down to the point where you let your brain cloud overtake your life. You become a shoe-gazing pessimist who wallows in trouble and basks in misery.

I need to remember that my troubles are small and my joys are great. I need to be grateful for the love I've been given without questioning from where it comes or why. I need to remember that in the grand scheme of things, it is not about how much you get or do or achieve, it's about embodying and broadcasting love and gratitude. If you're not happy, change what's making you sad. If you're not fulfilled, find something that fills you to the brim. If you're complacent, do something that scares you.

I'm going to make a concerted effort to do just that, starting today. I promise.

Life is short, and maybe we are specks of cosmic dust on the shoe of a peasant in some other world, so grab some happiness and own your life.

So, you see, even silly movies can inspire deep(ish) thoughts. If you haven't seen it, give it a try, but don't come cryin' to the Bev when you think the whole orange soda thing is lame or don't laugh at the understated humor. I like it, I quote it, and I think I get it, but it's not for everyone.

If you don't TELL them that you're nuts...

... HOW WILL THEY KNOW?!

It's Friday! Yay!

I only worked two days this week, so that rocked. My crazy cat lady coworker (AIR HORN!) worked her three days while I was out, so I didn't even have to see her ALL week. It was everything I hoped it could be, and more. As usual, she did a bunch of ridiculous tasks around the office to somehow try to prove her worth, then detailed them all on a note for me in her loopy, crazy-as-fuck, i's dotted with circles, dingy old lady script. If I had a scanner here at work, I'd totally scan it for you, but instead I'll just tell you what she said. Just make sure that you add the silent "because you didn't do it" to everything she says, since she is a passive-aggressive asshat. My comments are in italics.

Enjoy.

*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bev,

1. I had to change your password encryption to xxxxxxxx.
Ok, that's reasonable, but how 'bout you just stay the fuck away from my desk and computer instead, biznatch?

2. Straightened up closet some. The deposit receipt books are in the box on the shelf in order of year. They probably can go to storage next time someone goes over.
Thanks, idiot. I guess you haven't noticed that we stopped using those over a year go because it's all online now. You keep at it, though! I know how you love to alphabetize, which is odd because you suck at filing.

3. The phones that were in my window are in a gray plastic bag in the closet.
Nicely done. It takes real skill to bag up some old phones that have been sitting next to your desk for 6 months. You go, girl. Oh, and thanks for making sure I knew what color the bag was. That's important.

4. I dusted the window sills etc and found 4 spiders in corner behind lamp - yikes!
Wait, how many spiders? Four? But I could have sworn I put 7 over there. Huh.

5. AMP stationery is in cabinet by my desk - 2nd shelf - just the loose stuff. It does NOT have "Advanced Advisor Group" printed on it.
That's where it has always been, but thanks for the reminder. Oh, and I'm sure our clients are really gonna wonder why that new line of text isn't on their envelopes under the name of the company. How ever will they know who it's from?!

6. Only 1 full box of envelopes left - see attached. (paper clipped to the note is an envelope, in case I forgot what they look like or something)
She seems to be forgetting that she's in charge of ordering stationery. It's actually one of the few things she can be trusted to do correctly. She can't even answer the phones without disconnecting people.

Hope you had a great few days off. See you Monday.
Signed,
Crazy Cat Lady Who Needs a Reason To Live So I Work Here Because My Boss Is Too Nice To Fire Me, Even Though He Clearly Wants To

*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hmmm, maybe you had to be there. Whatever, I laughed, and I thought you might, too.

Have a nice weekend, everyone!

I'm in a baaad, bad mood.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.


Yeah. I'm fucking grumpy today. If I haven't stopped by your blog in a day or two and left my usual pithy and loving comments, please don't be offended. I'm just pissy as hell for no good reason. Hormones, maybe, or the phase of the moon again, or maybe I'm just overdue for a case of the grumps. IDK, but whatever it is is PISSING ME OFF.

See? Told ya. Bad mood.

Anywho, here's some stuff that is contributing to my shitty attitude. Let's do a little listy-poo, shall we?

1. My crap job is boring; I don't have enough to do, and the work I do have sucks. My boss is on vacay this week, which I usually love because I can slack off with reckless abandon and take long lunches, etc., but this week I'm just irked every time one of our asshole clients calls with one of their asshole problems. Don't even get me started on my asshole coworkers, because we'd be here all day. Why don't I go get a new job? Because I fear change, and I'm lazy and unmotivated and have no career ambition anymore, that's why. I honestly think I am meant to be an heiress or socialite or something, because all I want to do is have a good time. Stupid life.

2. We have two car payments at the same bank. I sent one check in with two payment coupons, one for each loan. I wrote in the exact amount on each slip, AND I wrote the account numbers in the memo of the check. I got a note the other day saying we were late on one of the loans, so clearly the idiots applied it all to just one loan and nothing to the other. Stupid jerks.

3. My husband is going to his college buddy's (2nd) wedding on Labor Day weekend. It's in Oregon. Has he booked a flight or done anything other than commit to going? Nope. I just checked for him and the flights are all over $500 and don't work for his schedule. When I told him, he got all annoyed and tried looking himself, then said, "Ugh. I'll just do this later when you're home to help me." Goddamn it! I just helped you! I just looked, just now, and told you what I saw! Which was nothing! So now I get to look forward to figuring this out for him when I get home later, and to paying out the ass for him to go across the country to get drunk with his old friends while I do something super fun and glamorous that weekend.

What will I be doing, you may wonder? Well, I will be driving myself, my two children, and my mother to New York for my grandmother's funeral, that's what. WOOT! Party in the minivan! Jealous? Yeah, I thought so.

4. Everyone keeps dying. I've been coping with the loss of my father two months ago; most days I am able to think good thoughts about him, and I find myself bringing him up in conversation a lot. "Dad always loved 'such-and-such'," or "Dad used to say, 'blah blah blah'." But the other day I found a server full of photos that I had completely forgotten about, and I found a picture of my dad laughing at a birthday party 5 years ago. My sister is at his feet, gazing up at him adoringly, and it's just such a good example of why we loved him that I lost it. I cried and cried and cried, just because I miss him. I know he's okay, I know that it was his life's plan and all that good stuff; I have peace about his passing. But I miss him and will always miss him, and that pisses me off.

5. I'm a slacker daughter who dreads calling her depressed mother because is makes me sad. I'm selfish. I do it because I must, but I drink a glass of wine to steel myself beforehand. All she talks about is cleaning out my dad's belongings, and who said what in their sympathy cards, and the business of death. I offer to drive the 2 hours up north to take her out to dinner to cheer her up, but instead I get roped into spending my Sunday cleaning out her garage. FUCK. MY. LIFE.

6. It's humid. So humid that you can't see the horizon. So humid that I can't get my rings off of my sausage fingers. So humid my straight hair is frizzing.

7. Pictures from yesterday's beach trip reveal troubling truths about the state of my upper thighs. Skirted bathing suits, here I come. What's next? MuuMuus?

8. I snapped at my husband the other night and hurt his feelings. I apologized, and he is fine, but I still feel like shit. I just haven't been appreciating him as much as I should be. He's a great father, and I should be more grateful.

9. Nobody around me ever shuts the fuck up. Well, almost nobody. Last night we were out to dinner with Mala & her family, and it suddenly dawned on me why she and I get along so well. We were in the middle of the table, across from each other. On one side, our children were yammering away and blowing bubbles with their milk and generally being obnoxious, on the other side, our husbands were blabbing away about some boring shit, and she and I were just sitting there eating our salads. I looked across the table at her and grinned, and she grinned back.

Sometimes, you don't have to talk. Sometimes, you can just sit there and fucking eat and not fucking TALK. She gets it.

10. I am an idiot who didn't put on enough sunblock yesterday, so now I'm Lobster Girl. WTF is wrong with me? I managed to keep my children from burning, but I am now sporting a ridiculous halter-shaped sunburn which hurts like holy hell. I've been rubbing the lotion on its skin, but it's not helping so far. Goddamn me.

I could keep going, I'm that grumpy, but I'll stop now. Ten reasons to be peeved are more than enough. This too will pass; my bad moods don't typically last more than a day or two, but right now I'm going to keep wallowing.

Truthful Tuesday

AKA: It's my blog and I'll rant if I want to.

I came back to work today, and am regretting that decision. My boss hasn't darkened the doorstep yet, but I'm dreading the moment he does. He'll be nice and all, but he's just so self-involved that it's bound to be one of these conversations:

Boss: "I'm so sorry about your dad. Are you ok?"
Me: "Thanks. I'm doing ok. Not great, but ok."
Boss: "When my wife's father died... blah blah blah, lots of redundant crap that's supposed to somehow make me feel sorry for his wife for her loss a YEAR ago."
Me: "Yes, that's very sad. I remember. How's she doing now?"
Boss: "She's alright. She still gets sad... more stupid annoying tripe about himself and their coping mechanisms from the death of an 86-yr-old man a YEAR ago."
Me: nodding sympathetically and making low sounds of consolation.
Boss: "So anyway, about those TPS reports...."

*SIGH*

So far the rest of the office is leaving me alone, thank goodness, but I'm sure that won't last. I'm just glad my crazy cat-lady coworker isn't in today, because all she will do is blab for five straight hours about every person she's ever known who has died, EVER. Because that is exactly how she rolls. Jerk Store! I might just snap and kill the bitch. It's been 6 years of listening to that harpy drone on and on and on, and this might just be the event that snaps my patience in two!

On a funny note, a friend of mine recently suggested that I get an air horn and give her a good blast whenever she starts up. HAHAHAHA! I think that's an excellent idea, but she is old, and I don't want to kill her, just shut her up. Still... I might consider it.

UPDATE: While I was writing this, boss came in, and the conversation went exactly as I had predicted. HA! I rule! Also, I was just thinking that I was a teeny bit peeved that no one from the office bothered to send me a card or some damn flowers, and Boss tells me that he and his wife are having a tree planted in Israel for me. Um, thanks. That's very... thoughtful, I guess. Whatever, dude.

Ok, more truths.... Things that have bummed me out this week:
Ads for Father's Day
My father's empty chair at the lunch table
Mala's woes... I will be busting some skulls if need be. Trust.
Being forced to shop yesterday for clothes to wear to this big family wedding we have this week.

Oh yeah, that's another thing. Jim's brother is getting hitched on Saturday. I LOVE this BIL, love him silly, and I love his bride-to-be (BTB). But, do I feel like schlepping my entire family onto a plane to Philly on Thursday, getting us all looking halfway decent, and putting on a smiley face for the entire group of in-laws and BTB's family all weekend long? HELL to the muthafuckin' NO.

Things that have made me happy this week:
My friends are awesome
Online chats
Plans for future fun
Getting mobile web for my phone (it's the little things)

One last bit of truth for now: My boss is sitting at crazy coworker's desk today for no good reason. He does this now and then, and it pisses me OFF. I mean, the man's got a perfectly good office, yet he sits 4 feet away from me? He's not even working, he's looking at CNN and ESPN. Goddamn it!

I VANT TO BE ALONE!

Ok, anyway. That's what's new today. Aren't you glad you checked my blog? Ha ha... sigh. Ha.