Sunday, March 28, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Tuesday, day of her announcement:
Purple Dino-SOUR: It's time for me to retire so that I may enjoy the last few years of my life.
Glynda: Now we can fill the position with someone who really wants to work!
Me: Yay! Hopefully the next person to sit in her desk will have at least half a brain!
Milton: It's about time!
Cowardly Lion: Took her long enough!
Wednesday, it begins to sink in.
PD: ::sniff:: I will really miss the people.
Glynda: It won't affect you too much, Bee.
Me [stops dancing]: Wait, what? Why would it affect me at all?
Milton: Uh, now we'll have to do treat day more often because she threw off the ratio!
CL: I hope I'm promoted to her position!
Toto: Boohoo waaaaah!
SC: ::sniff sniff::: ::sob sob::
Thursday, her last day. Or 'day of reckoning', if you will.
PD: I am being FORCED OUT! OZ cut my hours to make my life miserable! He is an evil evil man!
Glynda: OZ said the work can be done by you in the amount of hours you work, Bee.
Me: What? He's not going to replace her position? I have to take over her work? ::Waaaaaah!::
Milton: . . . because when I first started working here I was doing treats 1 in 8 weeks now it'll be down to 1 in 5!
CL: Okay, I will not be promoted to her position but I will pretend I am now the queen of the asylum by bossing everybody around!
Toto: Who will help me fix the copy machine? ::sniff sniff::
SC: Now who will believe all of my outrageous lies?
Friday, the day after.
Glynda: Look at it this way, job security.
Me [sorting through the piles of unfinished work inherited from PD and thinking *job security* could go fuck itself]: I'm effed. I am so effed.
Milton: ... and now it will be almost every month! I don't know how I'll manage!
CL: And I will be queen of cabbage patch land too!
Toto: The shiny object!
SC: I met Obama at the mall last Saturday. He's shorter than I thought!
Monday, after everything has sunk in.
Glynda: OZ said he is going to give Purple Dino-SOUR's position to his son.
Me: Of course he is because my work life isn't miserable enough!
Milton: I know it's petty but I don't know how I'll manage if he doesn't hire someone else and I have to do treat day more often!
Me [looking up from a stack of papers, messages and charts I inherited from PD's desk because it turn out she never did any work and just decided to shove everything on my desk before she left while I was in the bathroom]: That's what you're focusing on? Treat day? I don't give a rat's ass about freaking treats right now!
Moral of this story:
Be careful what you wish for because an empty bobble head who at least does the minimum is better than paper cuts on your eyeballs.
I feel partly responsible for her retirement because the last time she worked before she retired I may have said something along the lines of "If you're unhappy here, maybe you should retire. He'll replace you with someone for half of what he pays you and life will go on." In my defense, I really didn't think she had the balls. I guess I was wrong.
Monday, March 22, 2010
I made my gym debut last Monday. Or re-debut because I used to be a regular a few years ago, pre-marriage. We joined a smaller, local gym because Bally (jerks) makes me want to travel back in time, find Mr. Bally Ballyetterson and remove his testicles. Yes, I know I could do that in the present but he might be on guard against disgruntled ex gym members.
We arrived at the gym, I have to admit to having butterflies in my tummy, and the chick that was going to sign me up was the Anti-Bally's Drone. So much so that I think she was trying to discourage me from joining!
ABD: Are you excited?
ABD: I hate it here.
Me and my sister look at each other like saying "huh? did you hear what I heard?"
ABD: I mean, I get up and I'm like 'oh! I have to go to the gym!'
Me: Well uh that... sucks?
ABD: Yeah. So anyway, [she goes into her spiel and takes my hard earned chocolate money] So, go ahead and start working out and I'll have your card ready by the time you're done.
We made our way to the treadmills- (What? I am not a wimp! I haven't worked out in almost a decade! Baby steps!) we pulled out our iPhones and you won't believe me when I tell you but they have a TV on each treadmill! I know, right? That's like straight out of Gattica! I remember back years ago when we could get limited Internet on a stationary bike but you had to pedal like a damn fool to keep it going! Even though I was leaner and meaner back then, it still took a lot of human power to keep the Internet up long enough for a full picture of "Brad Pitt in his birthday suit" to finish loading! The treadmills also have a thingy where you can plug in your ipod/iphone directly to the treadmill(!). So I did and it asked me if I wanted to save my exercise to my phone. This age we live in? Pretty Jettsonesque. I said 'no' because I don't need my phone judging me too and then I began my climb into the Himalayan mountains.
I'm proud to say I walked almost 2 kilometers in 30 minutes. I'm not really sure what 2km translates to here in the states but I'm gonna go with 50 miles.
That sounds about right!
When we finished, we sanitized the machines and made our way to the front desk where I saw many inspirational thought bubbles of people expressing why they exercise. My favorite one was "I do it so I'm ready for the Zombie Apocalypse" then our emo hostess caught our eye and waved my newly laminated card that gives me access to self torture at me. The first thing she asked me?
"Are you ready to quit yet?"
I think I'm gonna like this new gym.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Maybe it's because I still have my Christmas Village on my mantel? Also, I need to pump up my boobies! Pump. Up. My. BOOBS!
So we had a week of wonderful sunshine and warm weather but it looks like we're going back to this this weekend:
My tender parts just inverted themselves into my body.
I just wanted to give a quick update on my determination to pull myself up from my bootstraps. I'm doing great so far. I am officially at 16 pounds lost which rocks all kinds of ass.
I bought jeans for the first time in years. I hadn't wanted to buy any after I hit a certain size because I would think "I refuse to buy that much fabric and make those poor little sweatshop kids work extra hard to lift one of my pant legs!" so I stopped wearing jeans.
I've had some tough times. Especially living with the human vacuum cleaner I call my husband. I honestly think he is trying to eat everything in sight for fear that my dieting will make food disappear!
He makes waffles at 10:30 at night while I'm chewing on my nails. He makes himself delicious sundaes while I drool on my shirt. He eats WHOLE PIZZAS...
So, I decided to indulge in another vice.
Brian asked how late we were to get back to the store on the other post. We were 20 minutes late and there were 4 women standing outside the door itching to make our lives miserable.
I also went bra shopping and encountered a gay guy at the women's store. He helped me out which was okay but then he asked, "did you know you could put two pillows in one?" and I was like the hell? I looked down at my boobs wondering how the hell I would be able to contort them in that manner. It turns out he meant to tell me I could use two of their plastic air contraptions to give myself more cleavage. Well, thank you Jack McFarland, for telling me my rack is in need of an extra boost! Way to kick a girl in the balls!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
I worked ACS on Saturday. As usual, I got there early and had to wait and wait and WAIT for the manager to arrive so she could let me in. People just don't have the same work ethic I do! She arrived 15 minutes late with the news that we both had to go to the bank before we could open the store (they don't trust 1 person handling the cash and I'm sure 2 people never conspire to steal). The bank that is 10 minutes away and the store is supposed to open at 10. I'm not very good at math but I did the below calculations using my limited skills:
Current time: 9:45
Drive to bank: 10 minutes
Allotted time for cashier at bank: 5 minutes (if we we're lucky!)
Drive back: 10 minutes
So my calculations have us being late by 970 hours. I'm right, Brian! Don't try to fool me!
We get in her filthy car and then says to me, all blasé-like, "don't lean on the door because it doesn't close" HUH? I went for the seat-belt and guess what? NO BUCKLE! So I pulled the strap over my bruisable/breakable body, sent a longing glance to my car with it's workable doors and seat-belts and prayed she wasn't a kamikaze driver. Then I realized it was Saturday the 13th, day of evil!
Now I know I'm old because busted up cars never used to bother me before. Now I'm all "but I might die!" and have turned into a wimp.
In other news, Purple Dino-SOUR retired effective Thursday day of the lord March 18. One down 4 more to go!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Like all married couples, Andy and I sometimes struggle through conflicts within our marriage. Then sometimes we have a conflict within the conflict because we have difficulty declaring a winner. I always know I'm right, therefore am the winner and Andy always thinks he's right because he lives in the land of denial where he is the king and eats chocolate bunnies all day long.
So yeah. Last Sunday, while I was working at ACS, he sends me a text message letting me know his brother is coming over to play Call of Duty after he gets off work. I thought that was cool but my mind immediately went to the 3 pairs of panties I had washed and left to dry in the bathroom so I texted back "make sure to put my panties in the room" and by that I meant bedroom. I get home after having taken my mom to dinner after work and found Andy still playing CoD alone. I go into the bathroom where I see, hanging for the world to see in their fuchsia pinkness and laced glory, my underwear.
I immediately come back out of the bathroom and stand patiently next to Andy, waiting for him to defend himself from the evil covert assassins who are trying
to kill him but then I notice there is no end in sight so I politely ask him to pause the game. He does so reluctantly:
Bee [showing him my phone]: Can you read out loud what this text says?
Andy: "Make sure to put my panties in the room" I did!
Bee: Come with me.
Andy: ::ANGRY SIGH::
Bee: ::MOCKING SIGH::
Bee [as we both walk into the bathroom]: What is that? [points at panties]
Andy: Those weren't there!
Bee: UhYES they were! What? Do you think I came in and staged the area in question before I brought you in here?
Andy: So who cares? Do you think Jim is gonna go home and tell mom and dad "I saw Bee's underwear hanging in the bathroom!"
Bee: I care! If that was the one specific thing I asked you to do, it means it matters to me!
Andy: Well, I put your work clothes away.
Bee: Yeah, thanks for that. You put away the clothing that everybody in the world can see but my undergarments were left displayed like hanging dead chickens in Chinatown!
Andy: If it bothers you so much, maybe you shouldn't hang them in the bathroom?
Bee: Where do you suggest? Somewhere more private? Like maybe at a street corner?
Bee: I can't leave you home alone without you doing something catastrophic-
Andy: Way to exaggerate there, Queenie-
Bee: -like eating my Raisinets!
Andy: Here we go again!
And now, for the bonus "Raisinets of Discord!"
Last Friday, Andy and I went out on our weekly date of errand running. I bought some gym shoes, then we stopped at Walgreen's for some toiletries. As we were heading for the cashier, we saw a big display of old time candy. You know the kind, right? Jujyfruits, milk duds, whoppers, hot tamales, etc. I don't know if you know this but I'm currently trying to be careful in what I put in my pie hole. So I walked right on by the yummy candy but had to come back when my husband was drawn to it like a magnet.
Andy [excitedly]: Bee! They have peanut butter whoppers. As in, here is some chocolate whoppers but wait! Here are some peanut butter whoppers! WHOPPERS COATED IN PEANUT BUTTER!
Bee: So get them.
Andy: They're 3 for $2. Do you want something?
I carefully look over the selection and analyze all the calories, fat, sugar, sodium, garygononium and finally choose a box of Raisinets.
Bee: Okay, I'll take the Raisinets. This way I can have a little and still satisfy my chocolate craving.
Andy: We need one more. They're 3 for $2.
Bee: You choose the 3rd one because I can't have anything else.
Andy: I'll take the sour patch kids!
Bee: Are you sure? You don't like gummy candy.
Andy: I'm in the mood for them.
We left the store. Once we got home, I opened my box of Raisinets, counted out 8 little raisins (I just thought of that song '8 little injuns' and then I felt ashamed of myself because I feel like a racist)(Okay, I googled '8 little injuns' and google said "did you mean 10 little Indians you insensitive bitch?" Ouch google! Ouch.) and savored each one by letting it sit in my mouth until the chocolate dissolved on its own. I closed the box, laid it on the dining room with a gentle pat letting it know that I would soon pay it another visit. The next day, Saturday, I went off to work so that I may support my beloved husband's habit of expensive shoes- uh, expensive VIDEO GAMES. When I got home, after being on my feet for 4 hours without a pee break, I looked over at the dining room table where my Raisinets awaited me. Only they weren't there.
Bee: Andy? Where are my Raisinets?
Andy [from the dungeon]: I ate them.
Just those 3 words. No "sorry, hon". No "a wild bear came in and took them". Nothing. So I sashayed my butt to the dungeon and asked hopefully, "you're kidding, right?"
Andy [looks briefly away from his computer screen]: No. Why?
Bee: You ate the candy I specifically chose because I'm dieting?? What about your sour patch kids and PEANUT BUTTER COVERED whoppers??
Andy: Yuck! Those tasted like ass.
Now, I don't know how things are in your neck of the woods, dear reader, but in mine? When you take a dieting lady's Raisinets, you better pray you wake up with all your fingers.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
I am sick AGAIN! I was healthy for about 3 days and some ignorant douche canoe shopper decided to sneeze and cough all over me. I was hoping for the best, "Oh, I'm sure my immune system is strong enough now to withstand those vile germs!" and then I got on my unicorn and landed on a rainbow. Wait, rainbows are real, right? Andy can't hear me so I can't confirm this information and I don't want to google it because then I'd have to move my hand and I'm tired and my nose is dripping.
The worst part? You know how people will sometimes call in to work faking they're sick? I have to do the opposite and fake being healthy so that I can go to work and not be judged by the bats. Don't worry, I'm being very cautious and I only sneeze, cough or blow my nose in the privacy of the bathroom. I come back to my desk all glassy-eyed and perky pretending I love my job. Hmmmmm that may be a giveaway.
Well, tomorrow is bagel day at the Asylum so instead of being home in my nice warm bed, I'll be sitting at my desk with an Asiago cheese bagel and a steaming cup of coffee. That's tomorrow. Tonight I will have a few shots of Nyquil.
Monday, March 8, 2010
I am usually good at things I set my mind on doing. My self and I have a little pep talk "Self, I know jumping rope is a gravity defying activity especially for you and your, um, well rounded booty but you've done it before. Granted, there was less of you when you were 10 but just remember to land on your feet and not your elbows. NOT THE ELBOWS!" After a few failed attempts and some detangling, I become an expert/professional/master.
This usually works on anything I really want to do. Except whittling. For some reason, everything I whittle winds up looking like a penis. Shut up Freud! If God intended me to whittle, he would have given me 3 extra fingers on each hand instead of good looks.
Anyway, working at Anonymous Clothing Store has been pretty easy. I take direction well and I'm not at all snobbish when told to mop or dust or even clean the freakin toilet. I've gotten pretty good at helping customers find what they they're looking for, rearranging clothes, keeping the displays neat and tidy and even the panty carrousel semi organized. It's all been a breeze and I have even kept my vicious tongue in check so as not to pulverize the lady who told me she was a Walmart girl and proceeded to have a fit when I told her a pair of underwear were not included in the 5 for $19 panty sale without letting me finish that this pretty little thong was only 96 cents. A bargain Walmart would be proud of [bitch!, she whispers].
The one thing I'm still having difficulty doing is getting people to apply for the store credit card.
I hear the rest of the girls, or old veterans as I call them, rattle off the spiel without any effort and then cooing in their victims ear as they take their wallet. While I can rattle off the spiel, I find myself hesitating to deliver the death blow that would have these poor suckers chained to the store forever. Speaking as a sucker myself, of course.
I can relate to people giving me the brush off when I say shit like "If you open the credit card and you use it on a regular basis, each dollar you spend BLAH BLAH BLAH"
I'm used to being on the other side of that spiel after buying my car, Andy's car and dealing with Bally's dickheads who almost forced my friend, who weighed NINETY POUNDS, to join against her will when all she was doing was keeping me company for the day with a guest pass. Those dumb bastards (yep, I really hate Bally) had us tour the gym (I usually went to one in Chicago and this one was one in a suburb) with a hot blond guy thinking we'd swoon and she'd sign her life away. Well they only got it half right.
Pfffft! I don't need a hot muscular guy! I have my Andy!
Then, when we didn't fall for his twinkling blue eyes, they sent a reject from the Oompa Loompa factory who tried to to intimidate me by studying my membership card and saying "accidents can happen, ya know?" well, he didn't say it with words but I can read eyes. He just kept saying my name over and over as if to hypnotize me with with his slimy liver lips. I finally grabbed my card from his sweaty hands and said "if hot guy couldn't get her to join, why do you think you could?" and I told my friend, who seemed to be in a daze, to get up because we were leaving!
So yeah, my whole rambling point is that I know what it feels like to be hounded into doing something you don't want to do and yet I still find myself saying, in a last ditch effort to suck them into temptation, "For today only, whether you get approved or not, we will give you a discount of 25% off your entire purchase if you apply!" but instead of luring them into my pit of overextended credit, these responsible individuals, these paragons of virtue, these goody two shoe nerds who probably pay with cash and do weird things like save money in a bank, tell me to suck it because they ain't falling for my scam!
And so I'm left standing there, sad, lonely and dejected. Like a reject from the Oompa Loompa factory. Minus the liver lips.
Thank you all for the comments, emails and the support. You have no idea how much that has helped me. I'm sorry it took me a while to moderate the comments but I keep getting spammed by people trying to get me to enlarge my penis. Again.
Anyway, your comments touched this jaded girl's heart and that's all I'm gonna say about that. ;o)
Jean Knee? Rawwr!
Friday, March 5, 2010
Me? I think it's their version of an initiation for the newbie. If the next chick is 6 feet tall, they'll probably give her the bottom locker and laugh as she's kneeling on the floor squinting down at her lock.
Jokes on them though cuz my calf muscles are gonna be fantabulous!
Monday, March 1, 2010
I learned to ride a bike when I was 7. My first bike was pale blue with a banana seat that boasted a chrome handle on the back of it. It had a little plastic basket on the front and red, white & blue streamers on the handle bars.
I remember waking up Christmas morning, our last Christmas before becoming Jehovah's Witnesses, and seeing this huge gift wrapped box sitting next to our tiny plastic tree and being speechless because I had gotten such a big gift.
I don't remember how long it took my dad to put it together but I remember he refused to put the training wheels on it. He said it was easy to learn and there was no point in wasting time. I find that ironic now because he later went on to weld training wheels he made out of a shopping cart to a motorcycle he owned.
The apartments we lived in had a small side yard that ran the length of the apartments. My first try was riding from our apartment, number 4, to my friend nurselizy's apartment, number 1. My dad guided the bike while running behind me but when he let go, my bike wobbled out of control and I almost crashed into the front fence. I'm sure I must have fallen but I really don't remember. For my second try I went from my friend nurselizy's apartment to mine and wasn't able to stop myself into to miss hitting the clothes lines. I remember that fall because I skinned my knee.
My third try, my dad guided the bike and I made it all the way to the front fence without falling. I thought it was because he hadn't let go but when I
turned around, I saw him standing halfway in between our apartments with a big cheesy grin and clapping. He ran up to me and said we should try again right away while I had this victory momentum. When he went to guide the bike, I told him I could do it alone this time and he let me. I got on the bike, he balanced it for me and then I flew through the yard. I was only seven so I don't think I knew what the names of the feelings I was having were but now I know they were pride, exhilaration, self confidence and just plain happiness. Besides this being one of the best memories I have of my dad, it is also one of the best ones I have about me.
The reason I'm bringing up this 30 year old memory is because I recently found that little girl again. The following post will be like an exorcism of sorts. I know my family members will be shocked to read the words I'm typing. All because I felt like I needed to keep these issues private, that I had to deal with them on my own because otherwise I would show my weaknesses.
For some years now, about 6 or so, I have felt vulnerable, inadequate, sad, angry, confused, repulsive, ashamed . . . and the list goes on and on. I'm sure I've touched on this subject before. Professionally, I'm still an ass kicker but personally? My self esteem in my appearance has been a roller coaster. I would dress up and feel confident, ready to take on the world but then I'd walk by a mirror and it would be as if someone stripped me of all that confidence and replaced it with feelings of repugnance and bitterness.
I've had debilitating bouts of depression that all centered on one specific issue. My body. Each year that goes by I'd feel more and more angry at myself for not being able to have the motivation and self control it would take to maintain a healthy weight. Each year I felt more self loathing than the next. I tried this fad and that fad. I entered weight challenges and nothing worked to keep me on track.
A couple of weeks ago, all my insecurities had regained force and punched me in the face leaving me feeling crushed under waves of inadequacy. Finding humor in anything was an impossibility which is why I needed to take some (quasi) time off from blogging and analyze myself. Sleep eluded me. My mood was so bleak, I felt as if my chest was going to cave in.
Over the past few days, I've wondered why I've let any other forces cloud my judgment. Why I let anyone make me feel inferior. Why (Why not *how* because I know the how) did I become so engrossed in this that or the other that I made it impossible for myself to go one day without this feeling of hatred for myself.
What happened to that chick who would be fearless at parties/clubs? Or the one who, as I think back on it now, WTF was I thinking, would ride on the back of guys motorcycles, speeding through the highway, feeling immortal? What about the woman who attempted skiing, no matter how disastrous the outcome was, I'm still proud to say that I tried. Specifically, what happened to that little girl who confidently told her dad she could ride her bike without his help and succeeded?
I did all these things because I had enough confidence in myself that I had no preconceived notions of failure. I didn't second guess myself, I just fucking did and so I was. Sure some of my choices and adventures weren't the safest but I'm here so lets not dwell on my intelligence, mkay?
That self confidence is to thank for a lot of special memories. I've had guys sing to me, I've had guys fight over me (that was more in my teen years but it still counts), I've had guys bribe my brothers so they could put in a good word for them, I've had men cry for me. Okay, that would need more of an explanation but now is not the time. I've gone into job interviews knowing how lucky they would be to have me. I was always sure of who I was. Now my sad ass shies away from mirrors because I don't need a confirmation on how unattractive I feel. I stopped accompanying Andy to any work gatherings because I was embarrassed on how much I 'let myself go'.
I let myself believe that that reflection in the mirror represented who I was inside. But that's not the case, I may have a different wrapper but I'm still the same person. The same person who believes she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to. One who refuses to sink deeper into this abyss of bitterness and is ready to do something about it.
Unfortunately, because I have had such a wall around me, sometimes people overlook the fact that I do have feelings. While strangers and people who don't matter to me may not penetrate my shell, it was still vulnerable to those I care about. Saying the wrong thing may cause damage no matter how well intended the comments may be. I can't change how people view me but I'll be damned if I continue this body dysmorphia! I know that what I see when I look in a mirror is only in my head and even though I may not be 100% happy with what I see, I still know it's nowhere near as bad as I make myself believe it is.
I woke up a week ago with this angry need to change my life. Enough with feeling sorry for myself! I wasn't sure what my next step would be but I knew that I needed to regain control of myself. There is no miracle cure, no plastic surgeon is going to offer me thousands of dollars worth of free surgery, I'm not going to sign up for a "Fatty loser" reality show. What I have to do is what I have done my whole life when I really want something, work for it.
The important things I have wanted in life didn't come to me by chance or luck. I've had to work hard to get them so why should this be any different?
I am as of this very moment, putting a stop to any thoughts of shortfalls, failures or any other bullshit that has no right to be in my head. All I can do is change my attitude and strangely enough, people have taken notice of this life altering decision to take control of my self esteem. People have been commenting on how good I look, how young I look, etc.
Sure, I still have my dark moments but then I flip off my reflection and I tell her to enjoy her time because the happier me is slowly going to take over and then kick her ass. I just have to keep remembering that I am the boss of me and everybody else can go fuck themselves.
Also, I have lost 12 pounds since January so that has also been a great motivator. And, don't let anybody undermine your self confidence. If you need professional help, don't be ashamed to get it.