Enemies? I have MANY stinkin' enemies!

I walked into work Monday morning with the same cheerful attitude I reserve for such special occasions like tooth extractions and Sci-Fi movies. Glynda stopped me right before I walked into my office and told me I  had to use Purple Dino-SOUR's old desk because someone threw a rock through my window and broke the outside glass. I thought she was joking because I'm so freaking adorable so who would want to break my window??

They called the cops and since the perp only targeted one window, MY WINDOW, I was then interviewed by the counties finest. Humorless cop and Norm.

Humorless Cop: Can you think of anyone who would want to cause you harm?

Me: I can think of a lot of people [I wink at Norm who cackles] but I also know they're too lazy to figure out where I work, specifically where I sit and then stop by on a weekend to break my window.

HC: [stare-y frown-y face] What is your occupation?

Me: I work in medical billing.

HC: Any angry patients?

Me: No, not that I know of but I don't handle the patients. I deal with insurance companies AND attorneys, can they be suspects?

HC: [non-blink-y stare] Not if they haven't ever threatened you. Any exes who may have any grudges?

Me: No. I dated my husband for 3ish years and we've been married for 9 years so there wouldn't be any *exes* who would harbor a grudge for 12 years. [to Norm] Unless I have a child an ex didn't tell me about!

Norm: ::pfft pfft hee hee:: ::cough cough::

HC: What about your husband? Are you happily married?

Me: As happy as is normal. [to Norm] Well, he DID say he was going to post on the Internet that he was going to shoot me when the Blackhawks were losing . . . but he doesn't own a gun or know how to post anything on the Internet.

HC: Is that another one of your jokes?

Me: Ehh, no, but thanks for the ego boost. He plays Call of Duty a lot so I think he carries it over into reality.

HC: Do you know if your husband may have any, err, *girlfriends* or any other type of *intimate friend* who may be jealous of you?

Me: If I knew he were cheating on me, you and I would be having a different kind of conversation. Mainly you would be asking me why I hit my husband with a frying pan. [to Norm] And that's the edited version!

HC: [angry mean face] Mrs. C-R, I am not a security officer, I am a police officer. It's not wise to tell me your husband said he was going to shoot you or that you're going to hit your spouse with a pan or anything else. [::gulp!::] So you don't know anyone who would be sending you any type of warnings?

Me: In all seriousness, no. I think it's just a fluke that the vandals broke my window. Hey, can I keep the rock they threw?

HC: [growl-y face] No.

Norm [whispers]: I'll see what I can do.

Me [whisper back]: It's like a trophy!

We giggle as the cop gives us an evil stare.

I know it's a serious situation people! How do I know it's serious? Because they almost broke my coffee cup.

Evil bastards!

Sometimes, I wonder where my posts take a turn to Weirdville.

Andy and I went to Starved Rock this weekend.

We climbed stairs.

 

Laughed at silly warnings.

 

Reenacted said warnings and stood too close to a cliff.

Almost tripped over this huge tree! Where are the warning signs??

 

Found a cave people have been using as a toilet. ::shiver::

 

A guy who was with 3 teenage boys burst their little "cool! we found a cave!" bubble by saying "Boys, that there is human urine!" and it made me giggle.

 

Were completely hypnotized by the breath taking sights.

Oh wait, that wasn't what I talking about. Here it is:

That's not it either! Ah, I found it:

After all the climbing, tripping, and wood smelling, we headed back to the visitors center for some much needed soft serve ice cream. I sat facing the beautiful scenery with my back to the visitor center but something compelled me to turn around (probably Andy's lack of focus?) and that's when I noticed the woman in a tube top dress who kept readjusting the girls, waiting for... her client?

 

I swear she sat like that for about half an hour, probably longer but I finally dragged Andy back to the car after he went to get a ""soda"".

I now regret calling her a whore because she was probably waiting for her priest so she may confess her sins. Or maybe she was waiting for a date so she thought she'd pose for him so he'd get a good look on the way in? Sad. Poor little big boobed floozy whore! I cry for you.

 

 

What? I'm not insecure!

Mannequin vs Bee. Can you tell the difference?

I want to show you guys something.

This is a mannequin (or 2):

This is a Bee:

(I know, awwww!)

One is made out of uh plasticy stuff and filled with sawdust. The other is made of out fleshy stuff and stuffed with bacon. One doesn't mind if you lift up its skirt (perv!) but the other one? The other one kinda likes keeping her goody bits hidden and/or untouched by groping strangers.

Now that we've made the distinction between Mannequin and Bee, and I'm hoping you figured out which one doesn't want to be touched, here's a peak into another one of my bizarre work days at ACS.

Woman: Did you buy these here? [touches my cute black capris with ruched drawstring at the leg area] [SHE TOUCHES ME!!]

Me [trying to step away so that her grubby hand releases me]: Yes.

Woman: Where are they? [goes to reach for me again WTF!]

Me [must resist the urge to slap her hand!]: They are in this section over here but we only have one size left.

Woman: Oh no! That's not my size! [still staring at me, walks around to get a better view of my... ass???] Those look great and the fabric isn't flimsy! [goes to touch me again]

Me [wondering if I can build a moat around myself]: Ma'am, I must ask you to stop touching me. I know I look like one but I am not a mannequin. [big smile because I don't want her to notice I have broken a hanger WITH MY BARE HANDS] 

Woman [seems offended but that's probably because she didn't get to touch my booty]: I just wanted to feel the texture again!

Me [nodding because I've heard that excuse for people wanting to touch me before]: I understand but you can feel the texture from this pair that is sitting on this hanger. Without a person inside of it. I promise they feel the same [big smile because we want her to think the customer is always right and even though love I it when strangers feel me up, maybe we should get some coffee first] Would you like me to call another store to see if they have more sizes?

Woman [touches the person-less capris all the while looking at me longingly]: What size are the ones you're wearing?

Me [squint at her suspiciously]: Size Purple.

Woman: That's the size I need! [gets closer to me]

Me: Before you ask me if you can try them on, [big smile] we also carry them in gray. Would you like to try those on? If they fit, we'll call another store for you.[big smile]

Woman: No, I'll just look online. [walks dejectedly out of the store]

Me: Alrighty then, buh-bye.

I don't know, you guys. I feel a little cheated. Like she got to feel the goods but then skipped out on payment by not buying anything from me. And also? Who does that? Who goes around touching sales staff as if they were part of the store's fixtures? I mean, if she would have been a HE and HE would have been Ryan Reynolds' abs I would have been all "Why of course you can squeeze me!" but we need to set some boundaries for people I don't find attractive to keep their mitts off my petunias!

::drool::

Because my friend jean knee complained I didn't have enough boobs in my last post...

I was rearranging my closet (AGAIN!) and carefully putting away my shoes by style, color, and awesomeness, when I came across an unusual tag in my shoe box:

 

I took a closer look because I was drinking a beer and it wouldn't have been the first time beer fooled me:

But it said exactly what I thought it said. They put this tag in my shoe box to protect me from mold? I don't even know what to say.

After feeling safe and full of relief because I was mold free, I decided to hand wash my bras.

In the kitchen sink much to Andy's horror.

Andy: You're gonna wash them where?

Me: In the kitchen sink! Why? Does that offend your delicate sensibilities? Do you have a problem with that Mr. Scratchytheballsatthekitchentable?

Andy: Yeah, I have a problem with boob sweat in the kitchen sink!

Ah! Le Amour!

Anyway! I washed them all but I couldn't figure out where to put them as I washed them. Pay attention! This is very important! I decided to grab a disposable tin roasting pan but it was too small to fit them all (not braggin' or nuthin').

But then! Then the beer came through and gave me a fantastic idea!

Stack them like egg cartons! Oh man, Andy's gonna kill me when he sees this post!

After I washed them all, I was at a loss as to where to hang them. I'm assuming all women hang them from their shower rod, am I right? This is my first foray into hand washing the girl holders. I had one problem. My shower rod is approximately 12 feet high and I'm like 5'2ish depending on shoes and weather so I couldn't reach it on my own.

Me: Andy! I need help!

Andy: If I fall to my death, don't tell people I was smothered by your bras, okay?

 

After I took this picture I thought 2 things:

Drippy water to the eyeball is very ouchie.

and

I just washed every bra I owned! I hope they dry by tomorrow!

(It was 10:00pm)

I think we found the first anti-social gym.

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.

Anyway, I got myself ready with my brand new Sketchers, my green kisses St. Patrick's Day socks , my AC/DC shirt to balance out my dorky socks and waited for my sister to come pick me up.

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?

Me: Sure.

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.

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.

Just recently, I found a perfect style that showcased my butt just so, you women know what I'm talking about, right? My biggest problem now? They are getting loose! Oh the problems I have! ;o)

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.

 

Deeelicious!

P.S.

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.

P.P.S.

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!

I stared danger in the face an only came out a little dusty for it.

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

10+5+10=25
945+25=970

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!

Dejected, Rejected, Ejected!

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.

Bastards.

P.S.

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! 

All this *baring of the soul* is making me thirsty!

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. So tell me, my friends, what has changed? I didn't all of a sudden lose 30 pounds. What has made them see me differently? Could it be because I decided that I was done letting anything or anybody have that much control over me?

I know this may seem like another "oh man! I'm gonna change my life!" post but there is something different this time. I don't know how to put into words what's different but it's almost like I woke up and the person I used to be 10 years ago smacked me upside the head and told me to pull it together and regain control of myself. I am pretty sure I know when my self confidence in my body tanked and if my calculations are correct, I have a lot of years to recover for but I have no doubts in my mind I'll be successful this time. I know that I'm doing everything I can to change myself for the right reasons and that is to make myself happy.

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.

Bang update! Ummm... Not THAT kind of bang perverts!

So it turns out my bangs look awesome and I've gotten a lot of compliments... Unless they're lying? Nah!

Anyway, I guess the jagged choppiness looks like I paid mega bucks to have it styled that way. My sister also came over with tweezers and coffee Sunday night to fix my eyebrows and pull the stubble the stupid tiny razor left behind!

And! My mom came home after her 3 week vacation so my world is totally harmonious again.

Well, it would be totally harmonious if Andy the warden would stop cracking the bedtime whip! I didn't have to live with this many rules when I was a kid!

P.S.
If anybody would like me to come over with my kitchen shears and tiny eyebrow razor to give you a makeover, just email me.
For you, no charge!

I remember a time when I could drink more than one beer without turning into Moe from the 3 Stooges.

What separates us from animals is our ability to make decisions (I'm sure there are others but work with me here). Animals usually act on instinct. But us? We question, we rationalize, we hem and haw until a beer takes that decision from our very hands. What does that mean? Well let me tell you.

It all started when I made a delightful dinner of Fettuccine Alfredo and baked chicken legs which I was going to eat ALONE (and we've established that I need to be supervised at all times) because my Andy was at brother Dan's house doing the magical thing he does with electricity.

I set my place setting for one, enjoying the solitude, when I made the decision to forgo my vanilla coke for a beer. Caution to the wind baby! After dinner, I was cleaning up the kitchen and my bangs kept getting in my eyes irritating the ever loving crap out of me! That's when the beer gave me the brilliant idea to trim them a little.

I went to my bathroom and rummaged through the drawers but I couldn't find any scissors. That's when the beer told me to go into the kitchen and grab my kitchen scissors. The ginourmous ones that can cut chicken legs with one snap. The ones I use to cut ninja stars and pennies and anything else that pisses me off!

So I took the scissors into the bathroom with me and as I was brushing my hair, I noticed my eyebrows were a little too bushy. That's when the beer suggested I look for my tiny eyebrow razor and clean them up a little. I removed my glasses, because they were in my way (who needs to see when shaving/cutting?), and I lightly went feep feep with the razor (I have never used) then brushed my hair down and took the SERRATED heavy duty scissors and *trimmed* my bangs.

::sigh::

When I put my glasses back on, OH HOLY BABY SPINACH! One eyebrow looked like I was questioning my sanity (which, hello! I think I should) and my bangs looked like I had let Mocha and Tazz take turns at chewing them off!

That's when the beer told me to do the logical thing and even them both out. Listen, I don't need to tell you there is no happy ending to this story.

I now have crooked bangs the size of eyelashes and receding eyebrows. I'm thinking my only solution is to spike them both and pretend I did it on purpose.

Sadly, this is not the first time I've rocked the the choppy bangs.

Conversation Andy and I had when I told him about my bangs.

Andy: Oh, it can't be that bad.

Me: ...

Andy: Let me see-- ooch! Eets! Wow! Well, it could have been worse. I guess?

 

Oh boy.

P.S.

We are currently having creative differences with our scanner so that is why "Bee n' Andy" has been on hiatus. It refuses to communicate with my laptop and instead wants to be an expensive paperweight-slash-mail-holder. Hopefully, I'll be able to hit the right sequence of buttons and fix it soon.

It seems trouble and weird older women follow me wherever I go!

So I have officially completed 2 full weeks at Anonymous Clothing Store. It's interesting (probably just to me) how different I feel going from the Asylum to ACS. It's a nice change of pace and I enjoy working with people that are closer to my age and know who Lady Gaga is. I'm not sure but I think I may be the oldest one there. Well, let's call me the most experienced one there and not the oldest one.

That's why I found so much amusement from the following conversation:

(As is tradition on this blog, my coworkers will have code names)

Hilary: If anybody confronts you about your hours, you tell them that it's probably because they're not getting enough people to sign up for the store credit card.

Me [as I was innocently hanging jeans]: What do you mean 'confronts you'?

Hilary: I don't want to bring the drama but some girls resent the fact that you're getting more hours than they are so they may come to you and say something. You're so nice that I don't want them to hurt your feelings.

Me: ... Um, thank you for your concern but you don't have to worry about me. (dying of laughter inside)

Hilary [genuinely concerned and that's why I did my best to remain serious]: Well you just don't let them push you around.

Me: Okay. I won't. (the Bee in my head is almost peeing herself from laughing so hard)

I didn't elaborate and give them examples of conversations I've had with lawyers, egotistical OZ and the bats because I think surprise attacks are better. I mean, would a kick in the groin be as effective if a person yelled out "I'm gonna kick you in the giblets!" right before? I'm sure it'll still hurt but you don't have that shock factor.

Anyway, I'm sure that when the time comes I'll show people how charming I can be.

Here are a couple of stories of the trade.    

Woman in her 50s walks into the store and tells me she's going on vacation so she wants some light t-shirts and khakis. I point her in the right direction and after she's made her selections, I open a dressing room for her.

After a little while I went and asked her how she was doing.

Woman: Do you have this in a slightly larger size? [hands me shirt over door]

Me: Let me check. [I find a larger size] Yes we do. I'll just put it on the--

Woman opens the dressing room door without a shirt on, displaying saggy boobage.

Woman: Thanks! Here, take these. [hands me clothes she doesn't want and so she gets close up I die a thousands deaths] They didn't work. 

Me: ... stutter stutter

I don't know about you guys but I prefer boobs that are young and perky... Wait, I think I just channeled Andy.

Later, I was standing in the front part of the store greeting people and an old lady walked through the door and I did my thing. Let's observe:

Me: hello! Welcome to ACS!

Old lady: Hi! Can you tell me if you still carry these leggings? [points at her legs]

Me: Do you remember when you bought them?

OL: About 2 months ago.

Me: There might be some in the clearance section but we have these new ones right here. Do you remember the style name?

OL: I'm not sure, here take a look.

AND THEN THE OLD LADY DROPPED TROU AND I WAS FACE TO FACE WITH OLD LADY BUTT CRACK!

Let's all observe a moment of silence for my innocence is dead.

I never get tired of telling people how awesome I am. There! I did it again!

So I started my orientation at ACS (Anonymous Clothing Store) on Saturday. I had to come in for 2½ hours and listen to a CD orienting me on the ways of the fashion world. (P.S. No, I'm not quitting the Asylum. Not until I become a millionaire.)

There was a lot of redundancy of course like ""be clean"" "make sure your clothes are clean"" ""do not swear"" ""don't wear profanity"" which I thought was disappointing because I LOVE wearing profanity! There were also rules on things I think will spoil my fun like "do not harass any individuals while on company property" but on the bright side, everywhere else it's fair game! I mock but I know from personal experience, that there are some people who need to be spoken to as if they were toddlers.

Towards the end of my orientation, I was given a task to pick 3 outfits I thought would be appropriate work apparel. I went out of the orientation area and onto the sales floor where I picked out the snazziest outfits I could find.

I also picked up some accessories, a jacket and a decent pair of shoes to complete the ensemble. I took it to the manager who smiled approvingly and said I was a natural! I nodded and let her know I had been dressing myself since 1982 (for those of you counting, yes, I was 10! Prior to that, my mom was dressing me in those awful frufru dresses that hampered my ability to play kickball).

I left orientation day ready for my very first official day on Sunday.

As I walked into the store on Sunday, and my heels made click click click noises on the tile floor, I was greeted by a fellow employ like so "Are you Bee? Your shoes will make you want to kill yourself by the end of the day!"

Well, hello to you too, Loudmouth McGraw! I immediately had the desire to hang her from the lights by her hair but I think that part was covered in the "do not threaten others with deathly force" part of the orientation manual.

She turned out to be nice but somewhat tacky. And by that I mean, at one point, she looked me up and down then grabbed my hand and exclaimed "Don't we wish we had a man who could buy us a ring like this!" as she admired my fake white gold diamond ring that I had bought myself on clearance for $7. I could have easily let her know of her mistake but a lady never reveals her secrets. Unless she's on her blog.

The day was uneventful. I managed to impress the assistant manager who was training me by suggesting the store credit card to a customer without being prompted, being helpful to customers, answering the phone correctly on the first try and learning how to use the register after only ringing up one customer. What can I say? I'm an awesome trainee! And also I know how to read and follow direction.

Unfortunately for me, while I didn't resort to suicidal thoughts because of my shoes, I did contemplate calling Andy to bring me my slippers so that I may walk to my car after work. Or maybe have him carry me to my car, follow me home and then carry me into the house. Lesson learned, I purchased an inexpensive pair of old lady shoes for my next work day.

(I'm cringing as I type!)

The nice sales dude asked me if I wanted them in red. Not even that would make them look good.

Ironically, I paid more for the shoes than I made for the 4 hours I worked but my feet? They will be as happy as toads on a lily pad! Sure they'll be a little embarrassed because of the shoe style but their sacrifice will not go by unappreciated. I'm thinking maybe making it up to them by buying a pair of these:

JUST KIDDING ANDY!

No, I really want them!

To the lady that left her snot ridden Kleenex in the dressing room.

I've got my eyes on you!

P.P.S.

They removed the staples commercial!! I blame you guys.

P.P.P.S

It's back on.

It's time to play "Worst Case Scenario"! Here's your host: Beeeee Musings! (that's me!)

I know most of you assume I live my life stumbling around by the seat of my pants and you're not far from the truth but on those rare occasions that I have to make tough decisions, I employ what I call my "Worst Case Scenario" system which prevents me regretting any decisions. What I do is, I ask myself "what is the worst case scenario if I do or don't do ___"

For example"

Marriage— Yay? or Nay?

Yay:

Worst case scenario is that Andy opens his eyes on our 10 year anniversary and realizes he married a bipolar nutjob. Until then, I won't have to take out the stinky garbage cuz I'll have a boy that does it.

Nay:

Worst case scenario, I'll start liking cats.

Since I really think cats are a step up from anal gerbils (ask Richard Gere what I mean because I don't have time to explain), marriage challenge accepted! We are approaching year 9 so we'll see what happens next year.

Let's focus on today's challenging decisions, okay?

It all started at 9:30 AM day of the lord Wednesday January 13th (coincidence that it was the 13th? I think not!). I had just finished off a full bottle of water and needed to go, erm, tinkle and like always, I waited until the very last minute which meant it was GO time! As I was lining the toilet seat with TP (a protected toilet seat is a happy toilet seat) and doing the pee-pee dance ( you know the one, right? where you shuffle from from one foot to the other all the while pinching your legs tightly together?) I was also trying to unbutton my pants at the same time... you know, now that I typed that, I'm thinking 2 things. First off, why do I share so much information and second, I must have looked like a spastic weirdo. Oh well!

Anyway, I must have yanked on my pants too hard (that's what he said!) because PEEWM! there went my button!

[insert chubbo jokes here you jerks!]

Dammit! Now the zipper wouldn't stay up! Should I just pull my blouse down?

Worst Case Scenario:

My blouse doesn't hide the problem so I walk around flashing the unsuspecting elderly.

So I looked down at myself to see how long my blouse was but it wasn't long enough to cover the overexposure. Nope, I didn't want to risk accidental peepage so I had to try something else.

I did the best I could with the zipper and walked out of the bathroom (after I washed my hands, I'm not a barbarian!) where I bumped into Scarecrow. I explained my dilemma and asked her if she had a safety pin.

She gave me one of those jumbo ones people used to secure cloth diapers in the olden days but before I could go back into the bathroom, Scarecrow went in!

Should I wait for her her to come out or just go into the kitchen and face the window so no one I work with will see what I'm doing?

Worst Case Scenario:

A random stranger I may never meet will see me fiddling with my pants while I'm standing in the kitchen.

So I stood in the kitchen and threaded the safety pin through my pants and the space where the button used to be. Nobody walked by the window in the kitchen so my secret is safe.

I went on my merry way and continued my job duties as if I was a normal person. Unfortunately for me, I should have adjusted my daily over-exaggerated body gestures to accommodate a hazardous pokey thing in my pants (that's what he said!)(that's what she said!)(it could go either way, no?) but I completely forgot I was living on the precipice of mortal danger!

Later in the day, when I needed to use the ladies room again, I went to open the safety pin but I couldn't find the other prong thingie. I looked down and there, staring up at me menacingly (I think it was even snarling), was the sharp part of the pin! I was almost killed! With no warning even! It turns out the pin had become bent and crooked so it had popped out of the pin's head!

What do I do now? Should I go home and change? No, because I won't want to come back. Maybe if I just put the safety pin back carefully...

Worst Case Scenario:

Fatal Stabbing!

Well, I certainly didn't want to die by way of safety pin stabbing but what other choice did I have?

I threaded the pin through again. This time I made sure it was more secure. Also, as an added precaution, I took 2 paper towels, folded them and positioned them on the inside of my pants to form a barrier between the pin and my delicate skin.

I thought to myself "Self, just don't use the ladies room too often so that you won't have to go through this hassle each and every time!"

You know what happened? It was as if my bladder decided to take a stand and show me who was boss! I would have a teeny tiny sip of water and BOOM! I had to go to the bathroom! I'd be reading a magazine and an ad would feature  an H2O product BOOM! I had to go to the bathroom!

If I walked by a plant— nothing would happen because it's a plant but then I'd notice it needed to be watered and BOOM! off I'd go!

After being tortured every five minutes, I finally took control of my bladder and said "Do your worst!" but by this time it was time to go home and I'm happy I didn't have to find out what the worst case scenario would have been.

And now you know too much about me and my pants!

Behind every great woman stands her mommy.

So I watched 4 movies on Sunday. I know some of you are thinking that I'm a couch potato but jokes on you because I watched those 4 movies while organizing my closet. Again. INow you're thinking that I do a lot of closet organizing and how messy can I be (you have no idea!) but the truth is, I was making room for all my new clothes practicing for when I have to start my new part-time job where I will constantly be picking up after all those inconsiderate bitches who don't pick up after themselves!!

Okay, that wasn't real anger. I was just practicing.

That is my segue (an NCS classic segue if I ever saw one- only without the swearing) into telling you guys I got the job at Anonymous Clothing Store (ACS for short) Woohoo! Confetti!

Yep. Now I may share the circumstances without fearing I was jinxing myself.

It all started back in November when I went to apply and never got a call back. I was despondently eating my quesadilla one December evening and I mentioned this to my mom. She agreed it was sad and maybe a little pathetic but I wasn't a loser! And I said "I never said I was a loser!" and she said "good because you're not!"

The next day, my mommy marched into ACS and asked the person in charge why in the hell they hadn't called her daughter for an interview. The woman, cowering I'm sure, gave her a new application for me to fill out and told her she would call me for sure once I reapplied. So I refilled in all the baloney and she called me for an interview. I again got my hopes up only to have them dashed when time went by without a phone call.

I took stock of my life and wondered what I could have possibly done to kill my chances. I replayed the interview in my head. Let's see. I was confident. I looked cute in my outfit. Pretended I would be great with customers. Snapped my bra strap when I told her I had bought my undergarments there. Pointed at my boobs... hmmmm? Maybe she thought I was hitting on her? Oopsie!

Oh well, to save face I concluded that I had intimidated her and maybe she thought I would take over her job one day because let's face it, I'm just that delusional good! 

I had another sad conversation with my mom and she repeated how cool and awesome I was and she gave me some hot chocolate which made me feel better.

You guys won't believe this but, later in the day, I received a call from my mom. Guess where she was!!

Mom: I'm here at ACS and <kaweek> I asked why  <kaweeek> <kaweeeeeek> on the schedule!

Me: Mom! Mom! Mooooom! You're breaking up!

Mom: <kaweeek> call <kaweeek><kaweeek><kaweeek>

I hung up because I couldn't understand what she was trying to say.

A few minutes later, my phone rings again.

Mom: I SAID THEY DID CALL YOU AND YOU'RE ALREADY ON THEIR SCHEDULE! Why didn't you tell me they called you?

Huh?

Me: Nobody called me, ma! I take the phone everywhere!

Mom: Well, you're on the schedule for the 16th. the girl showed me your name and everything.

Weird. Maybe they're not as organized as they would lead you to believe?

Me: Well, they didn't call so I'll just have to wait.

To quote my brother Rick "I'm not gonna go sweatin them" which I think means I won't make a nuisance of myself by, let's say, stopping by the store everyday for  impromptu daily shopping sprees.

The days passed. (Please picture pages of a calendar being flung at you)

Saturday! Sunday! Monday! Tuesday!

Finally, on Wednesday!, I received the call. Yours truly is on her way to richness one peanut at a time!

Also, my mommy is badass and is now my agent!

P.S.

Tomorrow I will be posting something I wrote under the influence of no sleep. Who needs booze/drugs?

I love starting my mornings by racing old ladies!

I had just parked my car and was hauling ass towards the door because I was thisclose to being late (yep, I've been successful in my pre-New Year's resolution to be on time. I'm 3 for 3 this week!) all of a sudden, this older woman starts catching up to me and yells "I'm gonna beat you!" so I stopped in my tracks and asked "Like knock me on my butt *beat me*?" I needed to know in case I had to break out my Karate stance. She stops and looks at me in wide eyed innocence (I'm sure she was totally faking it!) and asks "Pardon me?"  and that's when I ran to the door and left her in my dust! In your face old lady! You can't beat a cheater!

(Racing Grannies)

All she was left with was the echo of my laughter!

MUAHAHAHAHA!!

 

What? She started it!

What matters is the amount of pride you put into your work . . . riiiight?

I went on an interview at a clothing store for a part time job on Saturday. I'm not going to name names because this crew is younger and knows how to google. I think it went great . . . actually I think I ♫ nailed it ♪!

It started with the woman asking me things like "what is your greatest accomplishment" and me answering "staying out of jail" just kidding! I said something like "we pulled ourselves out of near poverty to where we now live a comfortable existence" (which I know doesn't make sense because here I am looking for a part time job but that's how we were able to have some measure of success, by doing what we had to do) then her asking what my strengths were and me answering the clichéd "being a team player" and when she asked about my weakness I was temporarily at a loss for words because HELLO! What weaknesses? I came clean and told her I'm quick to anger, I mock stupid people incessantly to their faces AND I have a BLOG where I mock ALL people to anyone who'll listen my lack of punctuality was my main weakness but I assured her it would not happen here because I would be coming from a second job therefore I would already be awake. Hopefully.

  She then put me on the spot by saying "pretend I'm a client and you are trying to sell me the outfit you're wearing now, what would you say to make me want to buy it?" It just so happened that I was clothed from top to underbottoms with clothes from this store so I said:

"These slacks have a great fit around the waist line, the length is perfect for someone of my height (short but cute), but they also come in freakishly tall and sorry you're average. I bought them a few years ago but they have withstood the test of many washings by not fading and showing no signs of wear and tear. Also, if you hang them up right after drying, there is no need for ironing which is a big plus for someone like me who is always running late is always pressed for time. The sweater has a perfect ¾ length sleeve that allows me freedom to eat without soaking it in my soup, the fit accentuates the parts I want [I pointed at my boobies] and is slightly looser around my problem areas [I pointed at my jelly belly]. The color is a fantastic blue/green that goes well with many complexions and the most important point is that it did not shrink in the wash. I am also wearing undergarments that fit my a-little-too-much figure perfectly. Almost as if they were tailor made!"

She laughed and said she would definitely buy what I'm selling which I took as code for "you're full of shit but I can see people falling for your charming
ways" Why thank you, decoder in my head! She said she would check my references (sweating bullets)(not because people will have bad things to say about me because I am a gem but because I'm hoping they'll answer their freaking phones!) and I should know this week if I got the job. She also told me they get a 30% employee discount even off of already discounted items . . . I have never wanted a job more!

I know what you're thinking. That I am the self appointed Queen of the Antisocialites so how will I be able to deal with people on a daily basis? Well,  my friends, it would be hard but if it means getting juicy blog fodder, guess I'll just have to grin and bare it.

So anyway, I know you're all busy praying for obnoxious kittens and illiterate horses but if you could throw in a little prayer to the big guy to help me get this job, I'd really appreciate it! I may even let you use my 20% discount! Yes, I know I said it's 30% but the house takes 10%.