There was no way to avoid getting breakfast on the way to work yesterday morning cuz I was starving. My options near work were REALLY limited, which meant…..Burger King. Oh joy. The total for my #1 with bacon and a small coke was $4.72. Perfect. I had a $10 and needed change to pay someone back. I pulled up to the window, handed the worker my money, and asked if I can have 5 $1 back. He stood there. And stared at me. Obviously, what he must have heard was “What is the square root of 5,732,945?”. WE all know the answer to that, but apparently he missed that day at BKU. I didn’t realize that asking for a specific denomination in my change would give him THAT much pause. Had he stood there any longer, I’m sure I would have started to smell smoke coming from his brain as he frantically tried to comprehend the meaning of life question that I posed to him. Wonder what he would have done if I had asked him a REALLY hard question like, “Do you like green eggs and ham? Do you like them, Sam-I-Am?”
All posts by theutahhostage
D-Day approaches & I will storm the beaches of Normandy SLCC campus with guns blazing pencils ready.
The start of the fall semester is looming in the not too distant future, so I figured it was time to take a look at where I am with everything that needs to be done to kick this pig. No, I’m not really going to kick a pig, unless you have treasured loathesome stuffed pig with the stuffing starting to come out that you want to loan me. If we do this, though, you should know it’s safe to say that you won’t get your pig back.
Wait a minute…..what the hell was I talking about? Oh yeah…college checklist. (Sigh) There are days I still can’t believe I am actually attempting this torture yet AGAIN. But things seem to be falling into place pretty well & quickly, so that must mean that this is the right time in my life to get this done. 3rd time’s a charm, right? Below is my initial checklist that just covers the basics at a high-level. I didn’t think it was necessary to get really detailed by adding things like: (Under Apply for financial aid) Pull at least 1/2 your hair out trying to find all the required financial documentation that you thought you were through with once you finally got off your ass & filed your god damned taxes. That just goes without saying, right?
I’m applying for financial aid while working on selecting my classes, cuz that’s just the kind of psychotic awesome multitasker I am. I’m even finding time/energy to keep my blog updated with my academic escapades. Damn, I’m good. Now if I could just figure out what my major should be? I couldn’t find professional alcohol consumer on the list. I’m at a loss.
*updated* You shouldn’t piss me off in a room full of knives.
Sadly, the husband & I are sitting at the kitchen table…..playing on our respective laptops. Yes, this is our Saturday night entertainment. I have yet to decide if we have no lives, are getting old, or are just too fucking lazy to do something decent on a Saturday nite. It seriously went downhill when the husband opened his mouth & inserted both feet (as he usually does). After a lull in the conversation, he says, “I’m looking on Travis’ page right now.” I asked, “His Facebook page? Are you still on Facebook?” He replied, “Yeah. His oldest daughter? Is really freakin’ cute.” And I’m all, “Dood! I’m sitting right FUCKING here!!!!!!!!!!”
Now I realize that this is pretty much a marriage of convenience (& certainly not the good kind of convenience), but I now keep looking over at the knife block, trying to decide if it’s worth going to jail to make my point. Hmmm…decisions, decisions.
Update – The husband tried to get out of he hole he had dug himself into by saying, “If she were mine, she would be locked up.”
So not helping your case dood.
I should be banned from all staff meetings.
I’m usually pretty quiet in staff meetings. I keep my comments to myself until after when the little groups break apart into their more intimate bitch sessions. Today was another story. I had serious difficulty in keeping my comments to myself today when it came to discussing the merger/layoffs. Granted they were whispered to my friend sitting next to me, but still…..
Co-worker: I wonder what kind of morale booster they will have.Me: cattle prod.
Co-worker: I’m sure they could come up with a really nice morale booster.
Me: oh…scented cattle prod.
She started rolling & I was laughing so hard I drooled on the table. Everyone else in the meeting was wondering what was wrong with us, especially when she got up to get me a tissue to wipe the table. Cuz no one wants to put their hands in someone else’s spit, no matter how funny the joke was that caused it to be there. I think the department head was glad for the 5 weeks where I missed the staff meetings.
It’s totally OK if it itches in public.
I was reading a post from this awesome blog I recently started following. The part about a toddler complaining about poopie in her ba’gina got me thinking (after I got up from rolling around on the floor of course).
The sperm donor’s sister had a wonderful son John James. One day many many many MANY years ago, she caught him scratching his boy parts. Really diggin in there, apparently. The following conversation is just too GAWD DAMN FUNNY to be made up:
Susie: John, don’t scratch yourself there!John James: But it itches mommy!
Susie: Well………just don’t scratch it in public.
John James: But what if it ITCHES IN PUBLIC?????
Obviously this happened before puberty set in and his brain migrated to his boy parts & lost the ability to think of these things, ask them, or even give a rats ass about them (and any men reading this,you know you were snickering before you decided to be all offended).
Kids totally rock.
I never thought I’d see the day when a layoff meeting would be a good thing.
It’s official…..I’m losing my job. There I’ve said it. I knew it was coming, so I wasn’t surprised.
The merger closed June 11th pretty much right on schedule. From the day the merger was announced I knew Payroll would be absorbed. There were lots of rumors and speculation (what a bunch of gossipmongers!), but I tried to take them all with a grain of salt. I would not falter in my resolve that I was going to lose my job. It was easier that way…..no surprises. Well, no bad surprises anyway. If somehow I managed to survive this merger with my job intact, it would be a pleasant surprise. Much better, I think, than to hold out hope that I would be safe only to get the horrible shock that a significant part of my world was gonna come crashing down. That wasn’t a risk I was willing to take, especially since the husband has been laid off twice in the past 6 years.
However, to say that I was okay with losing with losing my job depended on which day you caught me. I’ve been on a pretty interesting emotional roller coaster since the merger was announced. It’s safe to say that I’ve been through all the phases of grief at least 5 times and not in any real particular order. I always came back to “what’s next for me?” In some ways this could be the best way to move forward with the divorce. And then, there’s the inevitable (& frequent) “WTF am I gonna do now?” I think out loud a lot, but have to be careful who I do that around, cuz if they don’t know how I deal, I could inadvertantly burn a lot of bridges. Not good. The stress of all of it felt like a brick sitting on my chest, but it was manageable so I didn’t worry about it much.
Until this week. We were told a rep from corp HR was coming cuz those who were losing their jobs had to be notified within 30 days of the close of the merger. Yesterday morning, I woke up and the brick had morphed into a 2-ton boulder on my chest. It was all I could do to get ready and actually come to work. I didn’t really need to worry, though. My meeting was in the afternoon & I was ready to get it over with when my time came. They confirmed that my layoff date is 2/28/10 (still somewhat tentative) and that I will get a severance, which will be paid out in bi-weekly installments (the only thing I wasn’t expecting). I got the feeling that the people in the meeting thought I would have some sort of breakdown. Hello? You’re not really telling me anything I didn’t already know. Besides, have you WORKED with the Main Sales Floor? They DRIVE you to want to quit drink excessively. My brain liver needs a break. Anyway, I walked out of that meeting with more options than I thought I had going in. I now know that I don’t have to hurry to find a job. I’ve got time to check out ALL my options. I’m doing a lot of thinking outside of the box on this one, which is probably what I’m doing if you catch me muttering to myself.
Life goes on and as long as I stop finding gray eyebrow hairs, it will all be good.
What am I avoiding?
Today? EVERYTHING!
Honestly, the answer to this question really depends on the day.
Farkle is the fucking Devil.
I know I’m not alone in this and I’m asking for your help.
I’m recruiting members for a new firing squad which will have a single purpose: to destroy the creator(s) of Farkle. This won’t really be surprising to them. They started this game for their own enjoyment and only turned it on the rest of the world Facebook community when they realized how addicted they had become. This was their revenge against their own Frankenstein monster. We need to put them out of their misery just as much as we need to be released from their curse.
They’ll thank us, trust me.
Not all flashbacks are good.
Disclaimer: This is a slightly to moderately gross post. Also, being a former Navy wife, I don’t really think that people in the Navy who are on aircraft carriers are cowards or pussies. I have a great respect for all past/present/future members of our military. While parts of this post are totally accurate, my husband knows I’m kidding and so should you.
Every once in a while, the husband has navy flashbacks. Not combat flashbacks, cuz he was cowardly stationed on an aircraft carrier providing air support from a distance with all the other pussies. The flashbacks he has are of the serious hygiene issues that he developed during his time in the service, like many navy men (I SO hope this phenomenae does NOT happen to navy women) seem to notoriously develop. I’m talking about the fact that they lose the ability to keep their asses clean. That is, if they ever had the ability to begin with, in which case, the problem is seriously magnified. Along with this, they adapt an I don’t give a shit (pun absolutely intended) attitude towards these issues. In fact, it becomes fodder for jokes. I spent enough time in the house the husband shared with some of them to see these issues firsthand. Hello? Four sailors sharing a house with as many others that could fit passed out (comfortably or not) on the available floor space with no care in the world except how drunk they could get? If there was a line for the only bathroom in the house? No worries, there’s always the backyard.
Where was I? Oh yeah. These flashbacks are not pleasant for me. I mean, can I help it if I have a very good sense of smell? I realize that he would rather not be told that he fucking smells like shit (literally). I get that. I actually agree with him; I don’t want to have to tell him that either. However, I would rather not be subjected to the reminders of the days when he wore his underwear for 5 days straight. In my mind, not too much to ask for.
Mondays are just not good days to try to make me think.
Driving one Monday, I saw the Subway sign on the left side of the image. I kept reading it over & over, but was still not getting it. I was just about ready to pass the sign when it finally made sense to me & I started laughing my ass off (cuz Mondays also make things much funnier to me). I decided I HAD to get a picture of it after I passed it & turned around. The other side of the sign (right side of image) made me laugh even harder, so I made sure to take pictures of both.