Thursday, September 28, 2006

Do Not Pass Go

Today I got finger printed. Not because I got thrown in the slammer, but for my job. In order to get finger prints taken, I had to go to a local police station.

I've never been in jail. I've never even been to a jail. So needless to say, I was pretty excited about going to a jail to get finger printed.

I got taken into this tiny room, a room that I could only figure was an interogation area, with a tiny table, a door, and no windows. I sat down while the officer took my paperwork to get stamped. And I waited. And waited. I peeked out the door at the holding cell. I wondered if there were any criminals being housed. Finally, another officer came around the corner, looked in at me, and told me he'd get started with my prints. He flirted with me shamelessly. It was kind of cute and endearing, even if he was totally old.

I don't get flirted with that much these days.

The new job is going just fine. So far, so good. I really feel like I'm finally in a good place. And that's a wonderful thing.

Monday, September 25, 2006

First Day

The first day on a new job is always so weird. I should know, I've had many many jobs. Most of which involved retail. Today went well. There's a lot to learn and a lot to get used to, but I shot my first training video and that was fun. All in all, the day went very quickly. The people are nice, and I even ran into someone I know from college. I actually think I know a lot of people that work there... my father in law works at a different branch of the same company. He can't wait to email me. He recently learned how to do it. Email, that is. So now when I see him he talks company talk with me. It's pretty funny.

But I'm totally exhausted. Getting up at 5 after not sleeping well is a killer. So hopefully more tomorrow. For now, rest. And go read Greg's latest post, but make sure you read his previous response to yours truly.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Jitters

I start my new job tomorrow. As usual, when starting a new job, I'm a little on the nervous side. When I'm nervous, I'm cranky, and when I'm cranky, little things set me off, like the fact that I lost part of my keys, my house key and my mail box key; also the fact that I have a huge pile of laundry sitting on the floor by the bathroom that I know won't get done all week, and the fact that I have clean laundry to put away, dishes to do, and mucho paperwork for my job to fill out.

Needless to say, I have a butterfly-ish feeling in my stomach about all of it.

Anxiety, you are not my friend.

Anyway, wish me luck. At least wish that I'll like this job, as opposed to the many other jobs I've had and didn't like.

Time for sleep.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Who’s degradation is this?

“This is your first moment of degradation on the job”… that’s what I always thought about taking drug tests for jobs in retail. They make you pee into a cup, prying into your private life, seeing what kind of chemicals you might have floating around in there. I always hated having to do that, not because I consistently use illegal substances, but because, as the title of this post claims, it feels degrading.

I never thought about it from the other side though. The people who collect your pee, pour it into those little flasks and apply those sticky little labels with your signature on them. That’s a fairly degrading job, now that I think about it. But you know what? Just like anything else, it’s a job. We’ve all been in crappy situations, whether it’s redneck wives constantly asking for copies of “3” for their redneck husbands, tripping and falling in front of customers at the electronics counter, or being told off by people who are no better than you because you don’t have a new release video game in stock and they drove all the way from where the fuck ever who the fuck cares. Yeah. I feel your pain.

So because I’m going to be working for a company who specializes in background investigations and pre-employment screenings, I had to do the pee in a cup thing yesterday. Have I mentioned that Monday will be my THIRD week in a row of not working? My husband is practically shitting his pants that I haven’t made any money in almost 3 weeks. But anyway, so I received a Fed Ex package from my soon-to-be company (and the Fed Ex man just unceremoniously threw the package on my porch and practically ran away like I might open the door and bite his face off like a rabid chipmunk) with the paperwork for my pre-employment drug screening. Yay! One step closer to a start date!

So I dropped Lyric off with my dad and went to pee in a cup. I signed in, and 20 seconds later the women working slid the window open and told me to come back. I handed her my Fed Ex’ed paperwork and she looked at it and heaved a big sigh. That’s when the attitude started.

“This company is such a pain in the ass.” Wow, saying “ass” in front of a client is totally professional, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and chuckle for you.

Dead serious stare. “I’m serious. They’re a pain in the ass. I don’t know, I guess I get sick of touching URINE all day long.” Whoa, lady. You’re talking to the wrong person on this one. Perhaps maybe you should consider another line of work? I mean, you do work for a company that has the word “LAB” in the title. Seems to me that collecting urine is a part of the job description.

“Ok, you can put your purse in that locked box… oh, well, it won’t fit!” Ok, here she’s making fun of me now, because I have a HUGE purse. And the box was tiny. I mean, it was the size of a man’s wallet. What the fuck?

This woman’s attitude was probably the most awful I’ve ever dealt with. And all she had to do was work for a total of 5 minutes. There was nobody else in the office, nobody waiting, and when I came in she was chatting on the phone with someone. She was sitting in front of a computer, probably with internet access, yet she was acting like someone had peed in her Wheaties.

So that’s what I did. I peed on the outside of the cup. BITCH. Who’s sick of touching urine now? I change shit filled diapers all day. Do I love doing that? NO. But do I tell my daughter, “You’re a pain in the ass because I’m sick of touching your shit?” NO. And you know what else? SHE doesn’t give me a paycheck. So SHUT THE FUCK UP AND DO YOUR JOB.

Whew.

I’m sick of rude people. I really really am.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Is it October 31st yet?

I know I'm totally jumping the gun here, but it's coming upon my favorite time of the year. Fall! Today was the perfect fall day, chilly, a little rainy, the perfect day for snuggling with my baby.

Fall makes me think of Halloween, and anyone who knows me knows that Halloween is my favorite holiday. Having a kid for Halloween is so awesome, because now I can dress her up and make her cute(r). I've been thinking about how I want to dress her. We thought of a bumble bee, because we call her "queen bee," but after looking at costumes at stores like Target, Walmart, and Kmart, I've decided I don't want her to have just any old dumb baby costume for Halloween.

Then I found this:


Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

It's perfect. Not perfect for my baby, but perfect for her perfectly geeky parents.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Yes, it's fall over here in Squirrel Town

The leaves are falling and some of you may have noticed the new look here. And if you haven't noticed, well, um, are you blind? cause it's pretty freakin obvious!

I was sick to death of looking at pastel squirrels, so I opted for giant orange flowers on a brown background. Because, you know, that's waaaay better. I owe the majority of this design to Jason Gaylor, because he creates the best photoshop brushes EVER. I wish I could make stuff like that. If you are a regular photoshop user like I am, I highly recommend checking him out. My favorite ex-Mormon mom posted about his brushes a while back, and I was smart enough to look, and that's how it all started.

Ok, now that I'm done gushing about that, I will remind you to go over to Greg's, and check things out there. You won't regret it. In fact, you might sort of feel like, "oh, maybe I'm regretting this" but then you'll be like, "wait... hold the phone... this is cool." So again, go there. I'll say it every single day until you do, goddamnit. Because that's the kind of annoying person I am.

Speaking of annoying, did you know that today is national Talk like a Pirate Day? Avast, ye you soil-licking varmints. Savvy?

Sunday, September 17, 2006

You too can bomb the world and advertise for free at Squirrel Stories

Turns out, my friend Greg finally started a blog. About time too, since he's a fantastically funny writer, and an all around good guy that I like to drink beer with. His blog is called "bomb the world," and it's not so much about bombing the world as it is bombarding him with emails. All you do is email him, anything - a word, a phrase, a sentence, a paragraph, a rant, a question, a quote. Then he'll work his magic and write a response inspired by your words.

So check him out (but not in a dirty way, cause I know his girlfriend and she WILL kick your ass... ok, no she won't, but let's pretend she will cause it's more fun that way), and participate by emailing him at bombtheworld@gmail.com.

DO IT!!!

Friday, September 15, 2006

Lightweight Mama

I look forward to Fridays these days, because typically Fridays are the days that I allow myself to drink a few beers and let my stringent, anxiety-ridden motherhood persona somewhat drift away for a bit. Sometimes life gets a little overwhelming for me, and I know what it feels like to be a single mom, because with Ryan working 70+ hours a week, I'm left to do it all. Thank goodness my mom and dad will take Lyric at the drop of a hat. I don't like to keep score, but sometimes I count the days that Ryan goes without changing a diaper.

Listen to me. I've been home with my baby for a week and I'm already on the edge of the cliff. Pathetic!

Some people think that babies get easier the older they get, but I'm here to tell you, that's simply not true. Now that Lyric is mobile, she gets into everything. She hates having her diaper changed, and since she's developed a case of baboon ass (read: diaper rash) it's even harder, because there are multiple steps involved in the diaper changing process. If I'm lucky enough to wipe the poop off her butt and get the diaper cream on, she's taking off running, smearing the Triple Paste all over my area rug. The same rug that she's pooped on several times.

I bet all my friends can't wait to come over and walk on that rug in their bare feet.

Last Saturday my cousin and her daughter offered their babysitting services. They came to our house and stayed with Lyric while Ryan and I went out. We went out to eat, then decided to stop at this party that we were invited to. Unfortunately, I didn't know when to stop with the beer. I wasn't wasted by any means, I think I may have had 4 beers, and mentally I felt pretty clear, but I was glad not to be driving. We got home around midnight after having a pretty good time. Ok, we had a great time. I don't get to go out often enough, so when I do, it's all new and shiny and exciting. Luckily, Lyric had been sleeping for a few hours when we got home, so I meandered up to bed and when I put my head on the pillow, my head spun. I calculated the amount of beer that I had and it just didn't add up. 4 beers is making my head spin?

I used to be able to drink a lot more than that.

Lucky for me, Lyric didn't make a peep until about 8:30, and then she slept with us until about 9:30. She's very accommodating to her drunk mother.

Have a great weekend.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Stranded

Because the rain has been non-stop-ish over the past couple days, coupled with the fact that we park our cars in the yard, which is the “driveway” (that my husband has to put in), Ryan had to take my van to work today, because the car is stuck in a swampy mess. So I’m stranded here, in my house, with nothing to do but blog and clean. Obviously I’m putting the cleaning off. But I predict boredom. So here’s what I’m going to do:

Post this.

Clean the kitchen.

Take pictures of my daughter when she wakes up because I’ve seriously been slacking on posting new pictures.

Then I’ll come back. By that point you’ll have told me a story that will entertain me. Right? RIGHT????

Because I can’t watch another day of Meredith Vieira’s awkwardness like I did yesterday. Granted, she’s an improvement to Couric, but could she be any dorkier?

Ok, now give me a piece of your mind.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

When Anxiety Attacks *UPDATED*

Third interview complete.

Trouble breathing.

Possible heart failure.

Money spent on a new suit: $135.00.

Time spent wearing new suit: 1.5 hours.

Knowledge that I have the job: none.

Confidence: 50/50.


And so it goes. Done with the interviewing process. My confidence is a bit shaken, as you can see. I don’t feel that the interview went as well as I pictured it in my head. I stammered over some things, I froze up once, and I was generally nervous. More nervous than usual. But I asked good questions that got conversation rolling.

I’m starting to think that they’re playing with me, like a cat with a semi-dead mouse.

I AM THE SEMI-DEAD MOUSE RIGHT NOW. At least that’s what I feel like.

Did I mention that I’m unemployed? That I quit my job? That I’m UNEMPLOYED?

Shit.


Ok, now everyone give props to Greg, who ran his first marathon on Sunday. A whopping 26 miles and 385 yards. He finished in 3 hrs 47 min 2 sec. I would have been dead after the first mile.

Especially with these saggy mom boobs, which my mother pointed out to me yesterday. So we’re shopping for a suit, cause I wanted to dress to impress, and she says, “Do you have a good bra?”

Now by good, I’m wondering what “good” in terms of bras really are. I used to have quite a collection of bras, all with a bit of padding and some underwire. They were considerably smaller than the bras that I wear these days, which are neither pretty, nor lacy, nor padded (unless you count my Johnsons nursing pads) nor fun, nor underwire. But they’re easily accessible, so I can pull my boob out at the drop of a dime, and let my baby gnash her 7 teeth into my nipples, which she does frequently.

Question: Do all nursing moms have nipples that are quite as calloused as mine?

Anyway, after giving her a puzzled look, she said, “uh, they’re pretty saggy looking.” My mom doesn’t beat around the bush. She’s always truthful with me, and sometimes I take it to heart and sometimes I don’t, but yesterday I knew that what she was saying was true, and that I’ve been in denial for quite some time about my once perky breasts that no child had ever clawed or chewed upon before last November.

Most of my nursing bras are as old as Lyric, some are even older, and old bras tend to lose their staying power after some wear and tear have been put to them. Most of mine are definitely ready for the garbage, but something makes me keep wearing them. Nostagia maybe? Convenience? Poverty? Who knows?

So I gave in and let my mother buy a new bra for me, since it was she who pointed out that the girls have gone south for the winter. Today, as I sit and type this, I’m wearing a padded underwire bra that is considerably bigger than the size I wore pre-child, and I feel like the mom boulders are practically brushing my chin.

Sexy!

Now if that didn’t score me points during my interview, I don’t know what would.

Keep your fingers crossed that I hear something, anything, soon.



**********************
I GOT IT. Damn right.

Enjoy the silence...

It's getting a little dusty around here, huh? Sorry about that. Busy!

My 3rd interview is today. Keep your fingers crossed. I'll update later. Then I'll tell you about how my mom told me I'd better buy a good bra because of my saggy mom boobs.

AWESOME!

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

First Night

First things first, Suri is a damn cute baby. Too cute, even. I’d like to see pictures of her crawling on the floor eating dirt like my kid does, then I’ll be satisfied.

Last night was my first night without Lyric. She stayed at my mom’s house because Ryan and I went down to Pittsburgh for the Black Label Society CD listening party. That was fun. There’s nothing quite like a bunch of metalheads in one small, concentrated area. There’s sure to be exposed boobs along the way, and there certainly was. The biggest ones I’ve ever seen, live and in person, and I knew the person attached to them, but that’s a story for later.

Anyway, I grudgingly gave up my child for a night out at the Hardrock CafĂ©, and it was kind of cool. We got to meet Nick Cantanese, who I made sign an autograph for Lyric (hey, she’s a fan… she was at Ozfest, remember?). He was nice, although I think he mistakenly thought he was signing an autograph for an unborn child, as he rubbed my belly afterward. I took no offense, since I do have a poochy belly leftover from the stint that Lyric spent living in there, and told Ryan that Nick had anointed my womb, and our next child is destined to be a guitar player, perhaps the “evil triplet” (you have to read the wiki on Nick to understand that reference).

Anyhoo, as he was doing a Q&A, a girl named Becca told him that she’d flash her huge size F tits for a set of patches, which is something you can’t just get from BLS, you have to be “cool” to get them. It’s like a gay gang thing. Whateva. So she repeatedly flashed her enormous boobs like, 5 times. I watched her thinking, “boy that face is familiar.” Yeah, her face. I noticed it, believe it or not. Later on, I was walking past the bar and she grabbed me and said, “Hey E-Lo!” We did a sort of, “don’t I know you” type of questioning, and I discovered that when I was a grad student, I worked in one of her classes, and I taught her how to do digital video editing. She told me that she had gone on to work for CBS and Fox, but had to quit because she couldn’t deal with looking at raw news footage all day. I’d be all over that shit, but whateva! Anyway, NOW she and her fiancĂ© make adult videos for people.

Christ.

I was telling Ryan that she worked for CBS and Fox and he said, “you should be proud!”
“Why?”
“Cause you taught her.”
“Oh. Well, she doesn’t do that anymore.”
“So? It’s still cool.””What’s even cooler is now she makes pornos.”
“Sweet!”

I taught her the EDITING part.

Enormous boobs.

Her boyfriend does “stripper karaoke” too. That’s right. Stripper karaoke. Only the best KIND of karaoke!


It was interesting.


So my job interview was this morning and it went famously. I’m meeting with the vice president of business development next week, so I’m moving right along. Thanks for all the prayers, thoughts, and support. I think I have this in the bag.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Jarred out a reverie…

I have a customized Yahoo radio station that I listen to at work, and subsequently, I share it with my coworkers, because they sit in the same room as I do. I have the explicit lyrics option on (as in, don’t play music with explicit lyrics). I personally don’t mind explicit lyrics, in fact most of the music I listen to has some naughty words in it. I turned it on the plain fact that I work in a call center and I’m mostly on the phone with customers all day.

A song just came on that I was surprised to hear, because I immediately recognized it as from Social Distortion’s Live at the Roxy album, which is one of my favorite live albums. I’m not usually a fan of live albums, but that’s one I like. I can recite Mike Ness’s discourse with the audience from that album from heart. And I’ve heard some people (women) describe Mike Ness’s voice as “an orgasm for the ears.” So when I heard him start talking, I was immediately pulled into a type of trance like state, a sort of auditory orgasmic euphoria, because the aforementioned description does accurately describe what his voice does to me. Plus I’m fucking hard up, so you could probably touch my big toe and I’d quiver.

Needless to say, I was pulled back to reality when I heard him say, “This is “Don’t Bring Me Down, MUTHAFUCKAS!”

So much for that explicit lyric option.