I caught myself

I caught myself about to be an asshole today. About to pull the " but, so and so does it this way" crap that you hear from a ten year old when there's a substitute teacher in the classroom.

Then I looked at what I was doing and I stopped. I looked at how the message I was about to send appeared to the recipient and I thought, I don't want to be that person.

So I went back, and I followed the directions instead of pouting because there was more work for me. And I found a mistake. My mistake.

I was extra glad I didn't send that message. Instead, I thanked that manager for bouncing the request back and admitted that I had a typo in there. An email typo. It would have really screwed the customer up later.

Instead of sounding like a petulant child, I got a "good teamwork"

I think I grew a little today.

time just got away from me - the rest of stuff

before I fell off the face of the earth a bit there, I mentioned that I was going to see about going back to *Bucks to make some extra money.

I applied. I let a candle.

I never heard back.

The funny thing about intention is that the universe hears and answers. A couple of days after I lit that candle, a friend of mine contacted me about a job opportunity in Customer Service at the company she worked for. the pay and benefits were awesome and the opportunity meant that I would work from home. i missed working with the public.

a couple of days after that, I met a man at the airport who owns a cabinet shop in town. He was suggested that he might have an opportunity for a woman with my skill set. i missed working in construction.

I pursued both.

I now work at home. the increase in salary was enough that I was able to replace my darling Honda with something newer and sportier (still don't know if my booth set up will fit in there). I don't worry about getting stranded somewhere and having  to call someone to pick me up. not that my Honey ever let me down. but she was 14 and had 200+ hard miles on her. She was getting increasingly leaky. I nearly cried when I said goodbye.

I love my Nissan.

I learn something new every day. I feel challenged. I feel like my brain is active. I can pay my bills. I am blessed.

I suck at the regular updates

Really the most of what has been going on is nothing too exciting. And Roomate. And seeing that guy I see sometimes more often so I shall refer to him as Handsome Man (HM) on the rare occasion that I mention him in passing.

BUT I did have to share this cube conversation with you...

B: MMM Raley's Pizza for dinner

Me: I think we are having Steamers (Steamers is a pizza place at King's Beach in Tahoe)

B: Cleveland Steamers?

Me: Eew. No.

and then the giggles began. because we're 12.

Horrifying photos

We have already discovered that I have a lot of weird fears.

I discussed at some point last week that I will not willingly put my hand somewhere I can't see into.

I just remembered something else that gives me the heebie jeebies.

Before I begin, let me explain to you that I love swimming pools. They are all clean and nice and there are no water plants. Typically, you can see the bottom.

But I hate the skimmer. I don't mind taking the lid off to look in there, but I will not reach in from poolside.

So you can imagine my horror when I found this picture:

(Photo compliments of Liberty Pool & Spa)

THERE'S A BABY IN THE SKIMMER!!!

I'll be curled up under my desk if you need me. Maybe not. Its dark under there. There could be things lurking.

We're still funny from Friday

Bratty tends to get the music from Super Mario Brothers stuck in her head. Which means that she will sing it thorughout the day. Which means that one or both of us is singing along to the Super Mario Brothers game playing on our heads.

Original NES style.

So I played "Super Mario Brothers Ghost". You know, Boo? Who I always think should be called Boo Radley but everyone knows that's the guy from "To Kill a Mockingbird", which is what I think about when I talk about putting stuff in the knotholes of trees. Depositrees.

I was nearly biting Bratty's head when I realized that the guy accross the way (who tends to be amused by our antics far more than he is crankypants, BTW) could SEE me making scary hands and fangy face at Bratty so I retreated the two feet back to my chair, embarassed and giggly.

I don't even think he noticed. But he was cranky pants that day. (which was Friday but I'm posting to the future again)

Amusing ourselves.

I know that you have noticed that I tend to have a lot of typos. And it tends to create all sorts of giggling in the cube. (which just got me snapped at by the guy accross the way, but what he doesn't know is that I need to be giggling right now. weepy, snotty monsters are no fun to work with. I'm okay with him not knowing that. Home drama does not belong at work.)

That is not the point. The point is, that I tend to misspell the word "Depository" mostly because it is not pronounced that way in common conversation. Instead, I spell it "Depositry" which is probably why Hooked on Phonics went out of business.

I forget to use Spell Check. Always. Except when I send an email since outlook is awesome and I set it up to be automatic.

That is also not the point.

The point is, that I explained to Bratty that it IS a Depositry when you are depositing your money or precious things into the knothole of the tree in your yard.

Which I have never done. Because the only tree with a knothole in my yard when I was a kid had bees in it. (The tree in my yard now is too little to have knotholes. It's not going to get any bigger because it is dead.someday I will chop it down. With an axe. More on that later) That may be a bit of an exaggeration, we had a lot of trees. but I only remember one having a hole in it.

The knothole story brought up the fact that I will not willingly stick my hand or fingers into holes I can't see into. I'm afraid there will be bugs in there. or dead things. Or leaves. Or really anything that might go TSSS or crunch when I touch it.

This is why I will not go rock climbing. I have reoccurring thoughts of what it would be like to reach into a crack, halfway up a mountain, find something scary, let go and fall off.

No thank you.

This conversation reminded me of the fact that I can't see under my desk and that there might be scary things lurking under there. It took awhile before I stopped being afraid of the underneath of my desk, although now that I mention it, it's creepy under there.

The rollercoaster (again)

If you have been keeping up with my ramblings for more than a day or two you know that I tend to think that I struggle with my weight. The reason I think I do is because some days I am content with where I am size wise and other days I feel like jabba the hutt.

Heaven forbid I should happen across a side view. (did you know that my boobs are fricken ginormous? I mean, they look pretty normal when I am getting ready for my shower but then I see a picture and I'm like WHOA! I can't believe I can do crunches with those things!!)

Anyhow, I am back on the "I'm gonna lose that 20 pounds, damnit" bandwagon. To help me with this, I bought myself a fancy pedometer. It has become my new favorite distraction. It tracks things I never would have thought of. you can see it (and buy it) here (this is not a paid advertisement. I really did spend 100 bux on a little machine that applauds when I do something good)

I love it. I've climbed the statue of liberty in stairs already. and I burn about a soda and a cupcake every day. So of course I have to replace those things... I'm kidding. But I have crossed the golden gate bridge 7 times in the last 2 weeks and I didn't even have to leave Reno!

The dog likes it because I run all over the house trying to complete challanges. My coworkers thing I'm nuts(er) because I get caught climging up and down the stairs.

That's all. We'll see if I can shed that poundage.

This story was a lot more exciting when I was going to include pictures, but my "skinny" picture looked like a blonde ape with really big knockers and well, after that I thought maybe I should get back to work.

An unexpected goodbye

I am the kind of person who will occasionally wake up, get dressed, and put a rock in my pocket before I leave the house.

My reasons for this are sometimes spiritual and sometimes purely for the joy of having a rock in my pocket. I like rocks. Always have.

Having rediscovered a favorite the other night, I decided to pop my shiva lingum in my pocket yesterday and off I went, promptly forgetting about my pocket payload. (picture is from this website if you would like your very own sacred stone from india!!)

Fast forward to afternoon when, after sitting for a very long time, I decided to take a walk. Just as my coworker from the cube over walked by. I acctidentally bumped the rock in my pocket and was reminded that the coworker next door loves rocks like I do. So I decided to share.

I pulled the stone from my pocket, handed it to her to see, and she thanked me wholeheartedly! And in my mind I went CRAP!! I can't argue though, apparently, she was supposed to get that rock. And really, if there's anyone I would want to share my collection with, it's her. She loves it. She declared it a dinosaur egg and I suggested that it might hatch a pterodactyl. After all, it was her neighborhood that housed the burning pterodactyl last week. One never knows.

What I do know is that my favorite holy rock decided to move on today and I don't think it could have picked a better place to go.

In which your happiness brings me happiness

Bratty Duke earned a free pair of shoes thorough her favorite shoe website's shoe referral program.

Bratty loves shoes.

Sadly, shoes can be an expensive habit and she is a responsible individual who knows that her chilren have to eat before she can have new shoes. I'm taking lessons from her.

So, when she got notification that she earned a free pair of shoes, there was a lot of squealing and giggling from the other side of the cube. You know, 3 feet away. Her happiness made me smile. And laugh. Because her joy brings me joy. It's perpetual like that.

It also made me want to go buy some shoes so she could earn more shoes but I'm afraid that is not a wise course of action. I already have an unacceptable shoe pile where I used to see carpet and more shoes is not going to fix that. Plus, there's something going on with my bank account and I shouldn't spend money until I can access my account which I am currently locked out of because they did some sort of conversion and I thought they would TEXT me my new password not have the computer call me (phone was in the other room) and I couldn't start over. I think I need more coffee.

You want to do something NOW???

The "pearl". for two years it's been sitting there all bump like and not really doing anything. Today, when I was getting dressed for work, I noticed that there is something going on back there. No time to check it out, now I get to worry about it all day. The Doctor warned me that it might um, er, take care of itself (gag) but DUDE! I have an appointment to have it removed in just a couple of weeks! What if it um, well, (gag) while I am at work???

All I know is that I am NOT going to google sebacious cysts because I KNOW it's going to be super gross and if there is anything I hate, it's being super gross. Seriously. I have a phobia.

And now back to your regularly scheduled nicey nice.

I know it's kind of cheating a lot to schedule my posts. (this one is not scheduled) but rather than ramble for pages and pages and then offer up NOTHING for months, I thought I would post when I need to and then if there is already something going on that day, just schedule it for the next day. I'm a little ahead of myself, I know. but at least I am writing again. And pretty much every day, you just don't know about it until later. Except right now. This needed to be shared.

This really happened.

I really like my boss. She's super nice and fun. professional, but fun. She cracks us up every day. Yesterday it was her announcement that she would be drinking Manhattans to cure her cold. Today, it was this...

Me: LOL. Thanks.
Nancy:  What does LOL mean???   Little old Lady?????
Me: Oh, Nancy, no, silly. Laugh Out Loud. I forgot that you probably didn’t know what that meant. But good guess…
Nancy: Thank you for clearing that up….   I kept thinking you were calling me a little old ladyMe: Nancy, I love you and would never call you a little old lady.
Nancy:: Yes …  but I AM!!!!!!

Journey into my psyche

People wonder sometimes why I smile all the time...

SO, I'm driving around the warehouse today changing out dirty dustmops because that's what I do when I'm not ordering toilet paper. Remember, I am important.

Suddenly, this song pops into my head.



hmm. I'm not sure where it came from but SUDDENLY I decided that it's a terrible song. Suppose you're in Kindergarden and you all start singing about how you have two eyes, one two, and they're both the same size and suddenly you realize that yours AREN'T the same size! Suppose you look kind of like this...



only you know, with hair...

I'm not sure about you but I'm not sure my 5 year old psyche could handle it! And What about Cyclops children? Doesn't this song discriminate against them?



in my mind I heard this little 5 year old cyclops call out to the teacher, "Miss Whateveryernameis! I've only got ONE!!"

(by this time, mind you I was putting the toilet paper away)

And I was suddenly reminded of my grandmother who, some of you know, only had one. Boob. She only had one boob due to mastectomy (she was very candid about how they whacked her boob off) and I thought,

Oh My Goodness!

If you had a criminal who only had one boob, would they be a Uniboober?

Would they run around pressing it against windows and leaving round bulls-eye nipple marks? The police officer would say, "Chief, we've had another uniboobing"

I giggled every time I looked at a window.

I'm not really sure why I am still left alone...

Another notable conversation

Sam: Hey, what's Joe's last name?

Me: Momma.

Sam: What is it?

Me: Momma.

Sam: Really?

The rest of us: HAHAHAHAHAH!

And that, my friends, was the best quote of the day. I'm still snickering.


In other conversations, in case you have not figured it out, I'm in escrow. It's a fixer. Pictures when it's mine.

So, I'm talking to my boss about how I don't really know where the washer and dryer go because the garage has been converted (HELLO CRAFT ROOM!!) and the only evidence I can find is a taped over hole in the wall in the kitchen about the size of a dryer vent. But no plumbing right there. I'm thinking though, that I can change the weird bathroom into a laundry room since I don't really NEED 2 bathrooms and, it's a weird bathroom. (you would really have to see it to understand why it's so strange)If I converted the bathroom, I would have plumbing, but no vent. Sigh.

So, the bossman says I could get a 110V dryer and plug it in anywhere.

"I have gas" says I.

He would have left it alone if I hadn't started giggling, but since I did, he's been telling everyone I have gas.

My first day

Today was the first day of my new job. I made an impression of the usual sort.

It all started, I think, when I went to bed last night. I didn't sleep. I tried to sleep. I just didn't. So when my alarm went off this morning, I didn't fight getting up. (I HATE getting up in the morning.)

It bears mentioning that I was dog sitting all weekend so I didn't have a whole lot of options when it comes to the next phase of my story.

I slid into my new clothes. Pants first, as usual. They were SEVERAL sizes too large. Several. This is what happens when you try on one pair at the store and then buy several others in the same size without trying them on. I didn't have a belt. I didn't have a safety pin. I tried to borrow one but there weren't any. I didn't have any other pants other than the jeans I wore the day before. I was told that I would be best in Business Casual. My polo shirt was the only thing holding my pants up when I arrived at work.

On the way, I debated stopping for a belt. Pins. Anything. But I didn't want to risk being late on my first day. I was 15 minutes early.

I arrived to find everyone in jeans. I asked my boss if I could change into my other pants. He looked a bit confused, (who wears ill fitting pants?) but was okay with it. I explained that I didn't leave from my house that morning-because I was dog sitting ("oh. dog sitting" says he)

Once I was in my well fitting jeans I was much happier. I only have to pull them up sometimes. I've lost 8 pounds since I moved here. Three since I was fired. I love what not eating casino food and skating is doing for me.

The rest of my day went really well. People are very nice. I fear that working there will be bad for my pet habit, especially when they have adoption day, but I remind myself that I am more likely to consider the long term cost of pet ownership, or, as the company says, pet parenting.

4:30 rolled around and I packed up to go. But where are my keys? I left them in the bathroom when I changed my pants. They were not in the bathroom anymore. I was not as embarrassed as I thought I would be when they announced the following on the PA:

"Anyone who has seen a set of keys with a pig on them please call extension #XXXX. That's a set of keys with a pink pig on them"


I continued to look for them. Loudly. I'm not very good at subtle. One of the office type men folk overheard and indicated that he had my keys but that I would need to describe them.

"They have a pink pig on them that goes *snort snort snort snort*" (yes. I made snorting noises at my new coworkers.)

One looked at me funny. "How does that go?"

*snort snort snort snort*

I got my keys back. Tomorrow should be interesting.

In other Poon related news...

Maybe it's just me. Perhaps there is something about me that reminds people of vaginas, (I certainly hope not) but today at OSHA training another coworker experienced a slip of the tounge and said something about Poon Dog (dog?). I just don't get it, but hey, it kept me giggling all day.

I almost lost it completly when our instructor announced several times over that he is a Muff Man.

Ear Muffs for hearing protection you sicko. In this case, I prefer muffs too. I don't like to stick it in my ear, even if I reach around with my free hand. (Who knew OSHA could sound so dirty?)

What else? I'll be dogsitting the italian greyhounds starting on Saturday which could turn into a real adventure as my grandfather was hospitalized yesterday with pnumonia. He's out today. It's scary. I need to be ready to travel though, at a moments notice. which means I would have to find a way to take the doggies with me. To AZ. EEK!

OH! After much consideration I have realized that I have another superpower. It's an accidental one, and not really too beneficial for me so far, but I have come to the realization that although inconvenient, it can be considered a superpower.

The sight of me nakid makes men fall asleep.

I think this developed during my year long dry spell before Biker Bob arrived in my life. Poor guy. He never stood a chance against the unleashing of my force. It's the only way I can explain the fact that he rolled over and snored every time I came dancing out of the shower all warm, fresh, clean and ready to um...snuggle?

yeah. snuggle.

Which only goes to underline that I will have to move slowly with the next fellow I date because he will have to build up a resistance to my er...charms.

CHARMS!

And anyway, it's better to move slowly. It's like my neighbor said the other day. (He asked if Biker Bob was out of the picture and I told him yes, way out. Where has HE been? Biker Bob hasn't been to my home since what? Late September? October?) "Haste makes Waste". Actually I'm not really sure why he said that. I'm no longer accustomed to my neighbors commenting on my activities. He means well. It's not like I have guys staying the night or anything.

So since I am in the midst of another dry spell, I will have to be extra careful with my goodies. If a year puts them to sleep, two years might kill them! Or at least put him into a coma, which is also no fun for me. And how do you explain that to family? Doctors?

"I don't know, I got undressed and BAM he was out. It's one of my superpowers. I didn't do it on purpose, it just happened."

Sheesh.

So for a recap on my Super Hero Status,

Powers:
Kung Fu Hair
Vice Grip thighs
Nude Figure renders men unconcious

Can be defeated with:
Bananas
Large amounts of noodles
Fits of the giggles.
cockroaches

My apologies, Spell Check isn't working.

Work Rant

Many of you may not know what I do because I don't often talk about work and well, it's kind of hard to explain.

In short, I am kind of like a librarian. Except I don't have books, I have blueprints and project documents. Manuals and records. I am a paper pusher.

One of the jobs I am tasked with is distribution of documents. I also get to dictate what constitutes an acceptable document. Prior to my position being created, it was not unheard of for an acceptable drawing to come in on a napkin. We have come a long way in 4 years.

Enter nightmare. director who is an old school engineer. who contracts to other old school engineers. the contractors constantly send me drawings with misspellings (yeah, coming from me, that says a lot) typos, lacking title blocks, project names, numbers, and once, with the Os in "look" filled in like eyeballs. I tell myself that at least they are electronic in CAD format. (even if sometimes they are drawn to scale in CAD format and have to be monkeyed with before they are useful to me) (this morning said OSE sent me files labelled simply VTV. I replied asking what they are. Need to know that so they can be recorded and filed.)

Then Director comes in. With some lovely drawings he did. On letter size graph paper. In pencil. Since I hold the archives, I generally reject pencil because it smears and fades. it is not at all permanent. That's why it can be ERASED.No project number. No title block. And when I requested CAD drawings, I was told to use these anyway. Never mind that he has staff who have CAD and can transfer the document. Never mind that OSE can do it too. I was told that pencil is archival.

The bossman said there is nothing I can do. It would be awfully nice to get some support. The big bossman won't do anything either. So basically, I have been tasked with putting out a good product, but I am not allowed to demand good materials. So I passed along the shit.

Arguing or refusing amounts to insubordination. So I just copied exactly what he gave me and stuck it in the boxes of the people I was supposed to give it to. I didn't check to make sure the copies were good, I didn't put a number or a recipient name on it. and I learned that my angry walk shakes the whole trailer. So at least if I can't make men quiver in their boots, at least I can shake a doublewide on it's footings.

One of my favorite quotes is attributed to Steven King. "If you don't have time to do something right, when are you going to have time to fix it?"

Of course, I am a very fortunate person in that the universe is always finding ways to cheer me up. So first coworker needs me to roll her butt with the lint roller which, made me goofy and embarrassed because neither of us is touchy feely and that's really getting into her personal space. (I touched her belly once when she was pregnant. I think that is all the physical contact I have had with her in two years) And we had a good giggle over it. Then I had the conversation with bossman...

B: yeah, this show where he eats all this weird stuff. He was in the Philippines and he ate, that baby duck thing. you know the, um, um, pun tang.

G: snort. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! you mean (giggle) Balut! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! (sniff)

B: Don't ever tell anyone I said that.

G: Oh no, I'm blogging it right now. heh. (sniff)