This may be odd, but based on your writing alone, I wish there was some way I could grant you three of your birthday wishes. I think I would only be able to honor three out of the seven because I only have one car and I can't guarantee that it's tick free

I would never take your only car. Which three? A single tick-infested car eliminates one, but leave six to choose from!

Ask me anything

They say that 30 is the new 20...

This Saturday is my 30th birthday. I didn't think I'd care, but now that it looms less than 5 days away, I realize I do. I'm freaking out a little. A lot. I don't know. Not about being old or anything like that, but about the fact that at this point it's entirely possible I may never get a few of the things I wanted in my life. Some things have time limits. I guess it's the beginning of coming to terms with dreams lost. And trying not to wonder why others somehow 'deserve' those things more than I, since that is how I often feel. It's stupid and unfounded, I know. But that's how it is. You see things drift out of touch, and wonder what you did wrong. What you did to deserve losing out. And what the hell those people did to be better than you and deserve it more. Blah. Anyway.

My mom called today while I was at work. Left a message. She thought I called her last night... Nope. I did leave her a message about a month ago, so I guess it was that message she just got. In the message she said she went and visited my grandmother out in Arizona recently; my grandmother moved there this past springtime. That's cool. But part of me wonders how she found the time to go to Arizona (from McDonough) when she's been too busy the past 4 years to make it to Athens for one day... such is life, though.

WHAT I WANT FOR MY BIRTHDAY

• A car. My requirements are few. Decent running condition. Heat/air. A radio. No missing windows. And no parasitic infestations. Being filled with ticks is totally a deal-breaker.
•  A massage. My muscles hate me.
• Someone else to throw me a birthday party. I've had one party/gathering my entire life (no exaggeration- never had a kid's party), and I organized it. For my 27th. And at the end of the night, a number of people skipped out on their open tabs, and I ended up shelling out an extra hundred bucks to buy their dinner and drinks. Not cool. Happy birthday to me.
• People to just actually commit to coming to a birthday gathering I try to put together so I don't just stay home and get hammered alone. Which is very tempting.
• A new wardrobe. I've been wearing the same shit for 6 years. Some things longer. I need someone with some style to help me out, too. I got fashion-issues.
• To not owe anyone money.
• Finding a super-awesome man-friend wouldn't be too shabby, either. Notice I didn't say boyfriend. I'm sick to death of 25-35 year old boys. 

WHAT I WILL NOT GET FOR MY BIRTHDAY

• All of the above.

WHAT I CAN EXPECT TO GET FOR MY BIRTHDAY 

• BLOTTO. Yes, sir. Whether it be out with some folks, or home with my cats. It will happen.
• Bills in my mailbox. Those come every day. Except Sunday. Good Christian bills, they are.
• Cat puke somewhere in my house. Another absolute given.
• A phone call from at least one family member. Quite possibly a parent, much less possibly both parents. 
• A year older. No shit, Shirlock, but which leads to...
• More grey hair.
• A raging kill-me-now hangover. It'll be a belated gift, but the magnitude will make up for the tardiness.

Mandatory Once-Monthly Post.

Seems that that's the way it is now... I have been most slack in updating. Just haven't felt like there is a whole lot to say that means anything, at least not to anyone but me. Though hell, I'm the one that reads this thing most often! So I guess it doesn't matter. Maybe I should act like this is Twitter and just post each and every single mundane moment of my life; "Just ate some cereal! Frosted Chocolate Mini-Wheats!!", "Haha! My cat just puked on the floor. Again!", "Man, I just took an immensely satisfying dump. Feel ten pounds lighter! Aahh!". Ok, so maybe not.

More randomness to follow since my creative/sarcastic muses have apparently jumped ship...


Dear Facebook Friends Who (1) Are Engaged or (2) Have Children:

(1) Yes, I know you're excited about your wedding... I'm happy for you and your soulmate! I know you can't wait to not have sex anymore and can't wait to argue about money all the time and are ready to begin the next Chapter of your life that may or may not lead to becoming another statistic and the next Chapter (13) after that... but some of us are single and bitter and jaded and not your besties nor invited to said wedding. So please. Five updates a day about your impending nuptuals are enough. We know. You posted about it yesterday. Congrats and Good Luck! Hopefully it will last forever, with only one visit to marriage counseling. Please stop flooding my newsfeed. It's no longer news.

(2) Yes, your child is the most adorable thing on Earth... I'm so happy you figured out how to procreate! I know you don't have sex anymore and are worried about money because kids are expensive and now you can't afford to ever leave the house and do anything else to occupy your attention and that those cute-ass (disclosure of opinion: usually not) babies are the next Chapter (13?) in your life... but some of us are childless and awkward with babies and not really interested in them at this stage of our lives. So please. Ten posts plus new photos a day about your kid and what it did six minutes ago are enough. We know. You posted about it yesterday. Congrats and Good Luck! Hopefully they'll turn out fairly normally and only have to see a therapist once or twice. Please stop flooding my newsfeed. It's no longer news.

Ok. Now that I've gotten that out of the way and proven myself to be the Town Grump, moving on...

Just added a Portishead station to my Pandora. Was about to go back to Quickmix, but damn I love me some Portishead...

I am in love with my new job. And I really like the folks I work with. For once I feel like I fit in somewhere. Maybe it's because we're all just a little off. But it works. And a mutual love of beer doesn't hurt either!

Halloween is soon! Am I dressing up? What am I going to be? No, really. I have no idea. I suppose I could recycle an old costume... but that's just lazy. Better than nothing at all?

I spent 3 hours today scrubbing the everliving shit out of my stove. It gets dirty really easily, but on top of that it came with some completely cooked-on grease/food/crap when I moved it. It's REALLY old. It honestly could probably use a serious going-over by someone who specializes in older (50+ years...) gas appliances. Sometimes I'm a little worried it might just blow up one morning while I'm frying up some pig. Anyway. Right now it is cleaner and whiter than it has ever been since I've lived here. And now I don't want to cook on it ever again. But I will. And I've decided to give the built-in griddle a try too.

A few weeks ago, I killed an inchworm. It was an accident, but I felt horrible. I had just arrived at work for a closing shift at the Big Box. As I turned off The Trukk, I felt something on my leg. Oh! A cute little green inchworm! Well, I got him on my finger... but this is where things went terribly wrong. I should have taken him over to one of the islands in the parking lot that have a tree and shrubs and whatnot in them. But my dumb ass didn't do that. Instead I thought "I'll put him down right here in the parking lot! Oh, I'll put him under the truck in the shade so he's not in direct sunlight!"
Yeah. Well. Bad idea. See... asphalt that has been in the summer sun is hot. And the shade of a truck that's been parked for a total of one minute doesn't make it much... well, any cooler. So I set him down under the truck and he immediately starts to thrash around, as much as an inchworm can. So then I realize that the asphalt is hot and he's thrashing because he's being cooked alive, so I freak and try to pick him back up.  But he won't crawl back onto my hand, and I can't just pick him up normally because I'll squish him, so I try to roll him into my hand. But he keeps gettting in the damn little crevices and pits in the asphalt, and is still thrashing, and then the wind blows, and he gets blown further under the truck and I can't reach him. So I think I should just squish him now, but can't get to him, and the wind doesn't blow him closer, and so I watch him stop thrashing about a minute later. And I feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world, and am actually tearing up as I walk into work. Bah... craptastic.

One other insect story, since that's turned into today's topic: I accidentally microwaved a fruit fly on my lunch break at the Big Box. I guess he was already in there, and I put in my food and microwaved it on high for 1:45. When I opened it to take out my tupperware, I saw it underneath the clear glass turntable. Walking towards the edge. Then he found the opening and freaking flew away. I thought living things exploded when microwaved. Fruit flies must be like cockroaches... when the Apocalypse and/or Nuclear Holocaust happens and we are all irradicated and incinerated and mutated and whatever else might happen when Four Horsemen and/or Four Warheads show up; mere seconds after impact and before the dust has settled the cockroaches and fruit flies will look at each other and say "Hey! Did you feel that??".

hey....i've had the biggest crush on you for awhile! i don't go on here a lot. but please message me on www.dateanswer.com under the username "wishfulthinker". please don't get all weird. =)

Hmmm.... smells a little spammy, don't you think?

That website leads to some Christian dating website. Yeah. No Christians to be found on this blog. Sorry to disappoint.

Ask me anything

Writer's Block.

 I started this post a week ago. Then forgot about it. Let's finish it, and see what happens...

Seems lately that's what I have. Shit. Not like I generally write anything profound or intensely creative. Usually just bitching and random thoughts. Apparently I haven't even had any of those for the past month-and-a-half. So here I am, writing a post out of necessity.

Oh, ha! Did I say 'necessity'??? None of you need this blog. I thought I did, but evidence is pointing in the opposite direction. Somehow I've become too preoccupied for bitching and moaning and making fun of things. WTF, yo? What is happening to me? There have been no life-changing events; no sudden fairy-tale love or lottery winnings. Just sheer laziness. So you get what follows! Aren't you excited?

A couple weeks ago I was driving on the loop. And I passed a severed deer head. Yeah. What the hell? It wasn't like the head had just gotten whacked loose from a body being nailed by a Ford F-150. It hadn't become maggot feed yet. The skin was almost perfectly intact, and the neck was cleanly cut. This was an actual severed deer head. As in purposefully severed. Someone physically cut the head off a deer, and tossed it onto the side of the loop. What? Really?

It's getting close to Halloween. Well, sort of. In Retail-Land, 'getting close' means the two months (or more)  prior to any holiday. We've had Halloween stuff since Labor Day. Christmas starts showing up next week. Deck The Halls, dude. At work the other day, I had a sudden memory. We have these really obnoxious motion-activated full-size Halloween characters. There is a witch whose eyes blink red and she moves around and says "Welcome to my Hooooommme!' and something else I can't understand. I want to punch it every day. The only fun thing about it is that it has a wireless microphone, and can be set to act as the amplifier- you can hide somewhere and talk through it. And scare the shit out of customers. There is also a 6'5" skeleton dressed in a black frock that laughs or something- I tend to ignore them as best I can. Last year I was working at the return desk one day, and they had the skeleton guy outside on display. I guess the wind kicked up a bit, and it fell over, face down. This woman came running in all frantic telling me to call 911 because there was someone passed out in front of the store!! So I go out there and she's freaking and saying 'He's not moving!", and it's that damn skeleton thing. How the hell she thought it was a real person is beyond me. Either way, I got a good laugh out of it.

When I started this post last week there was something really fun and I'm sure full of smartassery and wit that  I was going to write. Of course I got here and totally forgot. And I have yet to remember...

In current news (actually current, not from the previous draft I'd saved of this posting), I got a part-time job. So I will be cutting my hours back to part time at the Big Box. It came at the perfect time, because I was reaching a point where I was quite possibly going to just lose it one day and storm out in some sort of blaze of glory or embarrassment. So I've averted that crisis. I'm excited about the new place; I think I'll be much happier and fit in better. If only it were full-time!

Gah!! Where did all my little ideas go?? Poopy.

Minor Irritations Of The Day

I need to order new checks. I have one left. I don't want checks declaring my love for Jesus. I don't want checks with Spongebob Squarepants on them. I don't want checks bursting forth with American flags and eagles and all that patriotic shit. I don't want pretty pastel garden scenes or cute puppies or anything to do with The Red Hat Society. I just want a small box of checks with my name spelled correctly and my actual address on them. I guess the correct account number is a given, since asking for the account number of someone else's larger-balanced account is probably not gonna fly. I don't care if they're made of old maxipads, dammit. I just want the cheapest checks I can get so I can pay my fricking rent. The online ordering page used to have all those crap options for Personalized Checks! Yay! Now my debt collectors can know how much I like pasta!!, but then there was this nifty link to Economy Checks. The boring, $7-a-box ones. Where is that link?? It's gone. So I go to the Special Purpose link.... ah, there is the cheap design I had last time, a box of only 50 since I don't use them very much... Good. Go through all the ordering, fixing my address, etc... hit Checkout...
And get a damn error message saying 'check style obsolete'.
So I go back to that Special Purpose link. There is another 50-check box with variety designs. Four designs in all. At least two fall into the category of Designs I Do Not Want, but whatever. If they're the cheap ones I'll deal with every 4th check having the Statue of Liberty superimposed on a waving American flag. Go through all the same ordering BS, hit Checkout...
And get that same damn error message. FUCK YOU CHECK PEOPLE.
Guess I'll have to go to the bank and do it.

Annoyance #2... wrote the check for my water/sewage/garbage bill today. Cost of total bill equals $44.46. That is for all three services. $17.00 is the flat rate for my trash service (which they will not let my neighbor and I, who live in the same house with a wall between us, consolidate...). I don't use much water because I live alone. So, besides trash, the second biggest chunk of the bill? Customer Service Fees. WTF? I've only been in there once, to set up my service, and I can assure you the service was not that great, seeing as how they were trying to get me to pay the 3-month past due bill from the previous tenant, and required proof that my name was not Christopher G. Yeah, no. And there are TWO customer service fees. One for water, one for sewer. It is the same office. Total in Customer Service Fees to ACC? $14.32. Customer service fees make up a little over one-fourth of the total bill. Complete BS.

Anyway. The airing of the grievances is complete.

For now.

Time's fun when you're having flies!

It's already August. This year has seemed to go by extremely fast. At least with it moving by so quickly, there hasn't been 'time' for 2010 to become the absolute shitstorm that 2009 was for many people, myself included. I can't say I'm any further ahead than I was, or even back on track, definitely not completely over it, but at least I'm not quite as dead inside as I was when this year started. I just hope I'm not jinxing the rest of the year by bringing it up.

It's been almost 17 months since I was laid off. 16 months since I moved out to Bishop. 15 months since starting the job I have now. 10 months since the final nail in the coffin of 2009 was pounded in. 9 months since I moved back from Bishop to my current apartment. And now almost 2 months since I finished school. Yet it all seems so new still.

10 months. Been a hot minute. I would love to say that I'm totally over it by now. I should be, I know. I want to be. But I would be lying if I said I was. It's not as frequent a thought as it used to be, not even close. But there are still times when something reminds me (of the good or of the bad). Or I'll have a random dream (nightmare?). And then I'm tossed into a brief period of crushing sadness. My heart feels that same shattering with unbelievable intensity, a bizarre act of muscle memory, like it just happened yesterday. Depending on the trigger, sometimes tears still flow against my will. I hate this. Almost as much as I hate what caused it. I suppose it wouldn't still be like this if I also would have had someone else to focus on immediately, but I didn't. I didn't have anyone. And I'm sure it will fade a lot faster if I do find someone else to occupy my thoughts. Until then... well. I do what I can. I try to stay positive about it, keep up the hope. And think of the things that make me feel better about it all... First, that though I dislike still feeling this way, and am even ashamed of it, I know I did no wrong. And I also know that since I do still have these passing episodes , I can be assured that I was never lying about my real feelings. I wasn't blowing smoke up anyone's ass. I meant exactly what I said, and said exactly how I felt, even if he didn't. I was true and honest and open and took care to not be telling someone I loved them when I really didn't, or didn't yet know if I did or not, or didn't even know if what I was feeling was love or just the warm glow from the last orgasm. Second, the whole idea of Karma; what goes around comes around, is still comforting as vindictive as that sounds.

I've missed my first opportunity at getting the fuck out of dodge. Though I only moved in 9 months ago, my lease automatically renewed this month. I didn't give 30 days notice of an Exodus From Athens, and the landlord didn't give me 30 days notice of Get The Hell Out Of My House. So on paper, I'm here until next August. I will still try to find a job I actually want to do here in the meantime. I have not set a true limit on how much time I'm going to give a life-affirming event to happen before I head for other pastures. I couldn't have gone anywhere yet anyway- moving costs money, and I have no money. Shit, I don't even have a car right now.

Speaking of life-affirming events... meh. I've been a bit indulgent in some self-gratifying and possibly self-destructive behaviours lately. Nothing extreme, and I know lots of folks who are even more indulgent, and I don't necessarily see anything really wrong with having a little fun. I just tend to freak out about what people think of me, and though I need to not give a shit about that, I do. Not even in a General Reputation sort of way- I'm definitely not bad enough to warrant worrying too much about that, but more about how some individuals may view me and my placement in their lives. I just don't want them to get a completely wrong idea about me. I also don't want them to get the impression that I'm going to jump every time they ask. Yeah, I might have before, but I was also being self-serving. Getting a temporary fix of my own. Once again, nothing wrong with that. But the thing about it is that it is obvious that it isn't going to lead me to what I want. Of course, I can always take advantage of that situation while also scouting out something with potential... and in all fairness I can easily just say "Not this time, thanks", plus going back to the smoke-blowing thing, at least they are straight up about it. I guess it's just that even if it's nothing, I wish they would try a little harder. Maybe just give actually getting to know me outside of the group a chance. I'm more than just that chick that hangs out with the dudes, and I'm definitely more than just some chick to text/message at 3am when you're bored. Invite me over to the dinner, not only afterward when everyone else is gone. After all, what is wrong with making a friend?

Today is my older half-brother's birthday. He turns 20 today. Unfortunately, he's made some really bad decisions in his short life, and is going to be spending this and his next birthday in the clink. He has a history of screwing up... but this is the first time he's not been able to somehow get out of it. I know he's completely miserable and lonely; my mom tells me how she goes to visit him, and he just cries. I sent him a card, but what to say in a birthday card to someone who can't do anything? I'm bad at writing stuff in cards anyway because it always sounds so contrived and redundant and meaningless... sympathy cards are the worst! But this was just as awkward. "Hey, happy birthday! Hope you enjoy your day! Don't get beat up in the yard or assaulted in the showers. Do something fun! Like chatting with the schizophrenic repeat-offender in the next cell. I bet he has lots of great stories. Maybe you can score an extra corn muffin in the dining hall today. I guess they won't let you have a candle to blow out, seeing as how you might be able to use it as a weapon, but maybe you could snag a cigarette from a buddy on your block and use that instead to make your birthday wish. Have a great day!"

Day two of four off in a row. And here I am, sitting inside, writing a damn blog post. It is time I went and did something else completely nonproductive. I am fucking awesome!

The Invisibles

We are everywhere. I am one of them. I see you, and you, and that guy over there. I see all of you.

Some of you I know already; lots of you... Some of you I've never met.

The unknown ones- I glance at you to see if you glance back. I look for a sign of possible recognition, or of a general human bond. A nod, a smile, anything. Generally you pass by, and I go unnoticed. You didn't even see me. I wasn't there. But what if I could have been the best friend you ever met?

With those I know I wonder why our connection is so weak; why you never seem to wish to make it something more, a real link or a stronger cable to hold each other up. I would do my best to support you. I would like to be more than just someone you know from around, someone you speak to every 6 weeks because I happen to be standing there. I try to reach out. But oftentimes I'm cut off. Most times. "Leave a message at the beep..." "Out of sight, out of mind"- all very true. I wonder why it is only when you see me right in front of you that you remember that I'm here. I remember you all the time. All of you.

I am An Invisible. An Unremarkable. Filled with the desire to love, but broken down by being forgotten and unloved. Unseen. Every connection a missed one.

I know there are more of us out there.

But to all of you... just know that I see you. Even when you don't see me. And know that someone cares.



I posted this anonymously a few weeks ago. In the 'Missed Connections' section of the Athens Craigslist. I got bored, had had a beer or two, and wanted to see if I'd get any response. I got a few emails; three said they liked it. One said I should write a novel. And the last said "your sick" [sic]. Okay...  Anyway, just decided to move it here before the post expires and I don't have it written down anywhere else.

I'm out of time...

The song "Out Of Touch" by Hall and Oates has been stuck in my head for two days. Only the chorus. I would like it to stop now.

This lady, she had a great itchin'
To switch out the lights in her kitchen
She did not make a date 
With a measuring tape
So these fixtures she will be a-switchin'.

In related news, I got yelled at at work for making too many jokes. I was told to stop with the joking around, 'we don't have time for that'. Ok, fine. I'll stop joking, stop trying to make my miserable job fun. I'll abandon my coping mechanism for dealing with the General Public, and well perhaps I'll just shove a pen in my eye. This was from the one person I work with who seems to have a major problem with me. Who also happens to be the assistant store manager over my entire zone. I'm guessing it's personal somehow, though I have no idea what I ever did to this person; they've treated me with nothing but disdain since the day they started. I can barely get them to say hello to me; sometimes I get a response, sometimes just a nod. I'm never spoken to first unless it's to say something negative. I recently had my annual review; it was a good one, they gave me a raise. My department manager did all the talking, my zone manager was there and signed the document, but did not say one word the entire time let alone even look at me. The whole thing is pretty stupid, really. This person is not particularly genial in the first place, and just doesn't seem human. I've been trying to just let it slide; why should I give a fuck if they don't like me for whatever reason? I will keep being nice to them regardless because I'm not the one with the problem. But the stupid part is that it's getting to the point that it's starting to get to me; it's starting to actually hurt my feelings. And I feel like they are out to get me, like they have it in for me. And since to them I do everything wrong or I'm just in the way, I am paranoid to do anything for fear of it being used against me. I want out of my department so badly because of this.

Still looking for other jobs. Still not finding anything out there.

Also still keeping a relocation in the back of my mind. With each day that passes I believe more and more I just will not find what I want in life here. Which is too bad, because otherwise I do like it here for the most part.

Ha, maybe if I wasn't so crass and weird and gutter-minded, or didn't drink so much beer, or didn't belch or say 'fuck' so much I would be able to get a nice attractive young man to court me.

Would you like to sit outdoors and watch lightning bugs with me some evening this summer?

Sure! But I guess you would no longer be anonymous, then...

Ask me anything

Does it make me strange?

I feel like an anomaly here. I feel that somehow it makes me strange to want the things I want. Everyone here wants to have fun. Everyone here wants a little money in their pocket. Everyone here wants someone on their arm. But leading to what? Athens, when you look at it, reminds me of Never Never Land in the Peter Pan story. Everyone here is younger than their years; everyone here is trying not to grow up because they equate growing up with growing old. And the few that are wanting more are left standing alone as those around them cling to their temporary and ultimately unfulfilling ways. And half the time, those few don't find each other. This town is full of people who are frustrated; whether it be financially, career-wise, or relationship-wise, they are all frustrated. When you become frustrated, it's easy to become jaded. And when you become jaded, you decide you're better off just keeping things they way they are because, hell, you're only going to be disappointed in the end anyway, right? Which means you've become bitter, but you'll say that you're not. The frustration remains;  people constantly (though maybe mostly subconsciously) craving something of greater substance but refusing to just let go and let something happen. None of us want to grow old, so all of us refuse to grow up.

But I still have this stupid hope. I'm a pessimist, I'm bitter (and won't lie about it), and I'm just as jaded as the rest of them. But I know what I do eventually want. I don't see what is so wrong with wanting to grow up. I can still be fun, and have a more 'real' job. I can still be attractive, and be committed to someone. I can still be a smartass, and be a mother. Shit, I can do all that and still share good coversation and good times and good beers with good friends and play in a band and read books at coffee shops. Because I don't think that wanting those things: a life-long partner, a family, some stability- make me an old lady. They just move me into a different phase, a grown-up phase. But not a grown-old phase.

I still have this stupid hope, this thread of positive thinking, that I can find all that here. Have the best of both worlds. I know that I'm almost 30. I know that I do want to get married. I want to have a child. I want a chance to have everything I've never had as far as family goes. I know I can do better than my parents did... How beautiful it is in my mind to wake up each morning next to my best friend and in honest true love. How amazing to be able to create a new life, both figuratively and literally, together. I am in no way bothered by the idea of being with only one person for the rest of my life, because if it's the right person, I won't need anything else. And when there are bumps, which I know are inevitable, they will be worth doing what is necessary to smooth things back out.

Yet, I look around and I feel like everyone around doesn't see the point. They don't believe it's possible. They think it would be boring. They think it makes them old. They think, "Someday, maybe, we'll see... when I'm older" when they're already halfway through their 30's. "I'm not ready to grow up, I'm not ready to be old" they say... well, what happens when all of a sudden they look around and realize they're nearing 50 and have never given anything a chance because they were afraid they would get old too fast, they were afraid of giving up youth. And now youth has abondoned them, age is advancing quickly, and no one is there to share it with them. Then they become frustrated, and then jaded, and then bitter... and the cycle continues. Then I see my father, who has made some bad choices and allowed himself to be broken down by the wrong women and he says "Who needs that? I don't need any one, people just hurt you, people just take. I'm better off on my own!". Then he goes home to the house where he has a room upstairs, in his mother's house. And he sits on the porch at night alone and finishes a 12-pack of High Life. Every few weeks he'll call me, and rehash things from the past that could have and more than likely should have gone differently; he tells me how he failed me, etc etc... and then claims he's completely happy with his life because he does what he wants and has no one to answer to. And I am sad because I know how lonely he really is.

I don't want that. I want to enjoy grown-up aspects of life before I grow old. I want to be the person that makes someone else happy, that takes away someone else's loneliness and makes sure they know how much them being in my life means to me. I want a dream, the ideal, and I don't think there is anything wrong with that. The challenge will be finding someone who wants the same that also gets along with someone as quirky as me. And the bigger challenge will be deciding how much longer I will give it before I throw in the towel in this town and search the greener pastures elsewhere. And then will I wonder what might have happened had I not run away? Will I end up settling for what appears simply because I give up thinking I'll find what I want before I'm too grown-old? Or will I search for so long for something elusive and impossible, only to miss growing up, instead to simply grow old alone and become permanently just as jaded and bitter as everyone who didn't have my dreams?

A Change Is Gonna Come

So. I'm going to be graduating from school in one week. Again. Maybe this time I'll use my degree. Maybe not. Again. Either way, I now know more specialized things that other people don't. One thing is for sure... I am done with school. I thought going back a few years ago would change things for the better, get me into a different place and get my mind off things I had no business giving the time of day in the first place (Again). But it didn't, really. For a minute it was good. But in the end, I still do think it's been one of the worst decisions of my life. Once I started, I wasn't going to quit. So now I'm done, and at the end of it all I've lost everything and am in the process of starting over. Again. I know I will never completely heal and I'm coming to terms with that. But at least this is one thing I will no longer have to worry about. Ever again.

I have stopped writting limericks at work. I have switched to haiku for the time being. The thing is, it seems few people get them. Few got the limericks unless I made the jokes fairly obvious and avoided more obscure references, but when limiting oneself to so few syllables it seems the joke is often lost completely. Besides the fact that there are many who don't know what a limerick or haiku is. But I did two haiku at work today to entertain myself. I will share my masterpieces with you... keep in mind, these are related to things at my job.

    It's a Saturday...
    OMG! MUST BUY FLOWERS!
    Life depends on it.

    Through the break-room door-
    Surprise! Fly-strip "mistletoe"...
    Don't get caught beneath!


The second one is in reference to the RIDICULOUS fly problem we now have. It got hot, it rained, and then the air wasn't on in the store. And BAM!... flies frickin' everywhere. So they've been billing out those adhesive fly-strip things to hang everywhere. Not that they work all that well- they aren't baited or anything. You just have to hope the flies are too retarded to fly right and end up getting too close and get stuck. What we all need are those handheld zappers. The ones that look like mini tennis rackets, only they're battery-powered. Those are great. Except then we'd probably all run around zapping each other. Because we are all really mature that way.

I have recently fallen in love with my front porch. A perfect afternoon consists of sitting on my front porch. A perfect evening consists of sitting on my front porch with a beverage. Hell, I'll have a beverage in the afternoon too. And a book. Though significant company would also be nice. I had a lovely afternoon about a month ago- sat all day on the porch drinking beers and playing Uno!, then Parcheesi, then back to Uno! because it's awesome. I want more days like that.

I love my backyard, too. But not as much since recently it's become a mosquito haven. I don't know where they're hiding out, but it doesn't matter what time of day you go back there. Once you're behind the house you are nothing but a side of beef for those swarms. Which sucks. Because my backyard could be really nice what with the table and grill and firepit and shade (and 'pool' if I ever want to set it up). It's still nice. I just don't want to be sucked dry those ravenous wenches.

      

How To Fight Loneliness

Just smile all the time.

Inside Looking Out

Humanity. Each day, I observe the mish-mash that makes up humanity. I see them at their most irritating, most bizarre, most self-righteous and egotistical, and most sincere and honest. And I am constantly confused. I just don't get people, no matter how hard I try (which truthfully isn't that hard; I'd rather just watch and take note than actually analyze it all). Conversely, I also see what humanity and its actions invoke within me. Often this is confusing as well, particularly when something that I should really not give more than a second's thought manages to occupy my brain for extended periods of time. But sometimes I know exactly why my reaction or thought process is the way it is. I might not be good at explaining it, or I just might not want to. Outside Looking In, and Inside Looking Out.

I hear all sorts of B.S. from people day in and day out. Mostly this stuff happens at work. People will be rude or condescending for absolutely no reason. They will walk up to me, and before even hearing me speak one word, will speak at me as if I am a young child or a dog, not an adult deserving of basic respect. I can not stand this crap, and feel that one day I will possibly not be able to hold in the verbal shock-and-awe that immediately is fired from my mental arsenal. People will also be insanely nice and polite, which makes things a whole lot better. However, there is one thing all types have in common: I see them all do some really asinine things on a regular basis. The kinds of things that leave me just staring at them, wonder what the hell they're thinking.

When people purchase custom-mixed paint, the paint associate takes a bit of it and puts a spot on the lid so they can see the color. Often times, the customer has walked off while it's being mixed so the associate just sets it on the counter for them to pick up. 90% of the time, people walk up to the counter, pick up the can, and then stick their finger in the spot of paint on the top. Then they look all surprised to find out that it's wet. It's 3 minutes old, people. That phrase 'watching paint dry'? Yeah. Longer than 3 minutes. Then of course they whine about getting paint on themselves.

Another thing they do is decide to go through Self-Checkout, and then act helpless. Like they've never used the one at Kroger before. I know you have. I've seen you there. And you know what? Not only are the directions printed on the screen, the Self-Checkout-Lady-Voice reads them to you, too! But these people walk up... "What do I do??".
Similarly, people come through a regular register. Get the total, pull out their debit card, swipe it (which means they've got an idea of the process here...), and when the number pad pops up for them to enter their PIN, they say," Uh, what's this? What's it want?" This is also generally asked in a haughty, irritated way, like instead it was asking for the capital of Nebraska. I have to hold myself back here from being a total smartass. I say, "It's asking for you PIN". And then they say one of two things: "Oh." and enter it. Or defensively "It's not debit, it's a credit card."- except the card has DEBIT printed on the front. I know the difference. I am not an idiot. You can use a debit card like a credit card and sign instead of using a PIN, but that does not make it a credit card.

The last thing to me is funny, only because I wonder if I'd do the same. People need to replace their toilet seat from time to time. Maybe they had a particularly heavy-set guest or an overly violent dump; I don't know, don't care. But it seems that unless they have written down the type of seat they need, they always buy the wrong one. Toilet seats are returned every day because customers needed the other type. There are two kinds: Round and Elongated. One is, well, round and the other is more like an oval. And no one can tell you which one they have unless they're standing in their bathroom looking at it. Which is funny to me, since the toilet is probably the one thing in your house that you see multiple times a day at regular times. If you are not out of town, you will see it at the very least once a day. Not to mention that I'm sure they've all had their head in there at least once, as well. But they have no idea.

Speaking of toilet seats: we also sell them made of plastic, wood, or vinyl-covered foam. If you are getting the padded one, I'm judging you. Those things are gross. And yet, 26% of American households use them. NASTY.

How it goes.

Still,
I think of you, baby
And how I grew old with you then.
And this summer, you'll call- maybe
And act as if we were old friends.
You'd say, 'How are you, baby?',
I'd say, 'It's raining in Athens.'

It's raining in Athens...

And to this day
I nurse the fever
That spoiled my poor heart.
And I've mastered the art of dealing,
Slipping away without falling apart.
So when this summer, you call- maybe
And ask how I've been,
I can be honest and answer plainly,
'Since November, it's been raining.'

It's raining in Athens...


-Azure Ray 

One more for St. Patty's Day...

Wrote this one today around 2:30, shortly after arriving at work. It's dedicated to all I worked with tonight, and anyone else who was imprisoned by their job until 10pm or so tonight while their friends went out and reveled.

Right now I should be drinking green beer,
Irish coffees, and spreading good cheer.
But instead, as we speak,
My Irish heart weeps,
'Cause all night The Man has me stuck here.

More of what I do at work...

Tonight my manager asked if I'd written any more limericks lately. I said I hadn't really felt drawn to any subjects lately, so he commissioned one with the subject of St. Patrick's Day. I wrote two. Here they are, in their painfully cheesy glory:

In March St. Patrick gets his own day
He was cool 'cause he scared snakes away
He's a great Gaelic hunk
And an excuse to get drunk
So Erin Go Bragh we all say!

In March St. Patrick gets his own day
Which we use as a reason to play
It's more fun than the Ides
When Caesar was surprised
I like beer, not stabs; et tu, Brute? 



And this is why I (don't) make the big bucks...

XXII

"Good morning," said the little prince.
     "Good morning," said the railway switchman.
     "What is it that you do here?" asked the little prince.
     "I sort the travelers into bundles of a thousand," the switchman said. "I dispatch the trains that carry them, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left."
      And a brightly lit express train, roaring like thunder, shook the switchman's cabin.
     "What a hurry they're in," said the little prince. "What are they looking for?"
     "Not even the engineer on the locomotive knows," the switchman said.
     And another brightly lit express train thundered by in the opposite direction.
     "Are they coming back already?" asked the little prince.
     "It's not the same ones," the switchman said. "It's an exchange."
     "They weren't satisfied, where they were?" asked the little prince.
     "No one is ever satisfied where he is," the switchman said. 
     And a third brightly lit express train thundered past.
     "Are they chasing the first travelers?" asked the little prince.
     "They aren't chasing anything," the switchman said. "They're sleeping in there, or else they're yawning. Only the children are pressing their noses against the windowpanes."
     "Only the children know what they're looking for," said the little prince. "They spend their time on a rag doll and it becomes very important, and if it's taken away from them, they cry..."
     "They're lucky," the switchman said. 

It's Tricky To Rock A Rhyme

I got a comment on my last blog to post some limericks I've written while at work. Well, they aren't good. I never said they were. They're cheesy. But they fit the formula, so fine. I'll post ones I can (some are about particular people, so they are either not fit for public consumption or they make reference to things only they know about so they'd make no sense). But don't say I didn't warn you about their quality...

There once were some bulbs named 'Soft White'
Who dreamed of becoming a kite.
He attempted to soar,
But instead hit the floor;
It's agreed he was not very bright.


My car has a new trick. This little development showed up last week, and I can't think of anything except that my car is maybe trying to kill me. The Camry's new trick is that whenever the needle on the speedometer (which is inaccurate, I might add) hits 65 MPH, my hood pops open. Yup. No bumps required. Just going 65 is all it takes and THUNK! Pop goes the weasel! Luckily there is a second catch in there that has to be manually unlatched. Of course, my luck is that someday that will fail too. Maybe when I decide to pass someone and speed up to 70 MPH. Then my hood will shear off, take out 6 other cars full of families and a tour bus full of old people... I'll run off the road, maybe flip a few times. Hit a school building or something. Burst into flames and explode like in the movies, and forever be labeled as a domestic terrorist.

For tonight at Returns I am stuck, 
Which at first made me think 'What the fuck?'.
But time I can pass
By scratching my ass.
I can stand here and still make a buck.



Want a poorly written cheeseball limerick? Give me a topic. I'll do what I can.

A Wee Post

I have a Midget Shower.

Which is strange for me to be concerned with, since I myself am only two measly inches and a diagnosed dwarfism gene away from being able to be a card-carrying member of Little People of America, and am quite eligible to join the National Organization of Short Statured Adults.

But yeah. My shower is short, and it annoys me. I didn't notice it when I looked at the place. But when I went to take that first shower I got in the tub and BAM. The shower head was right in front of me. At eye level. Nothing is ever at eye level for me, and never have I been in any shower that is that low. I can't imagine how the guy that lived here before me dealt with that for over a year. I once lived in an apartment where the shower head was so high I couldn't reach it to redirect the spray. I lowered it. Brought it closer to my level. But this... this is just bizarre. To have to MAKE SOMETHING TALLER so I don't bump into it. So's I got a nifty showerarm extender thing- has a lovely 'S' shape and makes the shower head 6" higher. But now I can't get the old arm off. Stuck tight. Gah. I was so looking forward to being able to stand under a nice hot shower rather than getting blasted right in the face. Probably for the best right now, since I still only get a nice hot shower for about 4 minutes.

My new entertainment is writing really stupid limericks at work. About things at work and people at work. It started with a package of broken lightbulbs. And it has escalated rapidly. Now I feel the urge to write a limerick about everything there. Jeebus. I really might be going insane. What do you think?

Sunday Morning Coming Down

Location: Customer Service Desk, Blue/Red motif Big Box Home Improvement Store.
Scene: Sunday, February 14, 2010. 8:07 AM. "Valentine's Day"- a holiday celebrated by some, but not all. First incoming phone call of the day.
*Phone Rings*
Me: "How may I direct your call?"
Man on Line: "I don't know, but you better tell me where I can get some salt or I'm going to Home Depot."
Me: "Um... I'm sorry. What is it you're looking for?"
Man on Line; "I said, 'I don't know, but if you don't tell me where I can find salt I'm going to Home Depot!' Salt! Or I'm going to Home Depot!".
Me: ... ... (squelching the 'oh, no you didn't' response about to burst forth)... ... One moment.
Transfer call to department that carries road salt, knowing full well that the store is completely sold out.

Really? Wanna try that exchange again, fuckwad? Where do you get off? And what makes you think anyone at my place of employment wants to deal with some jerkoff who thinks that by harrassing the phone operator he'll get his way? Oh, I'm sorry, sir... I can tell you are in serious need of some salt- of course it's not your fault that you waited until today to go looking for it. Why don't I produce some Ice Melt out of my ass for you? Douche. Go on across the street. Go for it, bud. I'm sure they'll welcome you. 





Today was Valentine's Day. Bah fucking Humbug. While I think it's a stupid, cheesy, mushball of a day... I did realize today that I've never gotten anything for Valentine's Day (well, not since middle school. Which does not count). Most years, I've not been anyone's, or had a, valentine. But even last year when I (officially) did, I didn't get so much as a text message. I got him a card- a big joke of a card too, which I am proud of because it was funny as shit and I knew it would be right up his alley- and a little thing of candy and snuck into his apartment and left it for him on his computer keyboard. I at least showed I was thinking of him. I got zilch. Le sigh. Yeah, it's stupid. And I wouldn't ever want anything super-cheeseball. No giant balloons or ridiculous numbers of flowers (puke). No retarded dinner out on a night when EVERYONE does that. Nothing over the top. But for once, being acknowledged as someone's valentine would be nice. A hug. You know, just a little sweetness.

And chocolate is always good too...
 

You can ring my bell, ring my bell...

It's back to cold here in Athens. For a few days it warmed up a bit, gave us a break. But bam, freezing again.

Been a fun week. My friend Elton came and stayed with me for a bit. We had a few super-fun nights out (where was my tiara??), and some super-fun nights in watching Family Guy and crappy (read: awesome) movies. One night we went to the grocery store and made a smorgasbord for dinner- ugh, I was so full! I just wish I wouldn't have had to be up early every morning for school, and wouldn't have had to be away at work some nights until 10pm. It's been a while since I've had someone to hang out with more than once a week... alas, he went back to Trasa's today, so it's just me and the cats again.

Got to work the other day... they put up a damn bell by the exit door. "If You Received GREAT Service... Please Ring Bell!". Yeah. One of those. It looks just like the ones you find in fast-food restaurants; the Arby's on the Eastside comes to mind. It makes me want to be mean to people to keep them from ringing it, because the bell is loud and distracting and startles me when it's quiet otherwise. Also, I seriously dislike that type of motivation to do my job. I work in a retail store at the customer service desk. I know I am supposed to be nice to people, blow sunshine and sparkles up their asses, and even wipe it for them if that's what they want. And I guess I do a good enough job that they keep me scheduled there. But I don't need a bell to validate that for me. I find it horribly degrading. It's like giving a treat to a dog when he sits, or putting a gold star on a chart for elementary school children when they're good little conformers. I'm not a fucking performing monkey in a ruffled collar; I'm not willing to jump through flaming hoops for the bell-ring of acceptance and praise. You want to motivate me? You want to raise morale? Try some of these: Schedule enough people at once so that everyone working isn't so stressed and on-edge ( I can't ring up two people, take three credit payments, transfer a call, rent the truck, and take a phone order at the same time). Don't make me beg the not-so-bright, infantile, power-tripping 20-year-old they hired as a supervisor off the street for a bathroom break (You were a shift manager at [fried chicken fast-food place]?? Holy shit, you're the most qualified ever!). Acknowledge the fact that I have 10 years of work history (almost 7 at one employer) and a bachelor's degree and pay me more than $8.82 an hour, or at least pay me more than that 18-year-old with no experience. Or even this: try speaking to us with some respect and not like we're all six years old. Pretend we're not expendable, even if we are. Don't just boss us around and bark orders at us; let us have just a little bit of fun- especially if you're just standing around doing nothing and chatting it up too. Don't allow the public to walk on us and treat us badly because they know that you'll just apologize for our 'poor service' and give them whatever they want to keep them from bitching to Corporate. And lose the frickin' bell.

I thought I had more interesting things to say, but I thought wrong. So be it.

"No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee..."
                                                                                                          -John Donne

Things...

I Like:

• Elderly interracial/gay/lesbian couples. Seeing that helps me believe that not all those from that age group were brainwashed by regional or generational bigotry. Also helps me believe that honest true love may actually exist.
• Hearing songs I really like in public places (especially because it won't be whatever is playing on Top 40 radio). What I mean by 'public places' is the hold music on the telephone or the overhead P.A. systems at grocery/big box stores. Times like that.
• Cincinnati-style chili. I can eat a 3-way every night for a week and not be tired of it. 
• Roller coasters. 
• Friends who actually act like friends all the time, not only when it's convenient for them.
• Pooping on company time. 
• Thinking about attempting to grow plants this year. Even ones I won't eat.
• My cats.
• Not having to set an alarm clock.

I Dislike: 

• The fact that I will probably kill every plant that sprouts.
• Locking my keys in my apartment.
• People who fit at least one of the following descriptions: rude, shallow, disloyal, unfaithful, dishonest, false, uncaring, egotistical, manipulative, hurtful, entitled, or selfish. Also people who don't use turn signals.
• Vegetables. See above.
• My cats.
• Pooping in a stall next to someone else.
• Being the center of attention. (Note to Arby's/Chic-Fil-A: Please don't scream at me as I walk in the door. It's extremely unsettling. Thanks.). 
• When people who live two houses down park directly in front of my apartment. 
• Miley Cyrus.

That Are Short-term Goals:

• Riding my bike more often. I don't want to get chubby again.
• Coming up with some semblance of a plan for after I graduate.
• Going at least a whole week without crying myself to sleep, and going at least a whole day without thinking of him.
• Simply graduating.
• Seeing more of the people I love that also love me.
• Figuring out exactly who some of these people are...
• Getting my place not only clean, but hospitable for company. Like having chairs and a dining table and maybe even a real couch...

That I Want:

• Some chairs, a dining table, a real couch, and hell, why not... some bookshelves or cabinets too.
• To sit around a fire and drink wine with people dear to me.
• A hammock.
• A video projector. I have a screen I really want to use.
• For Athens and her population to finally get a damn break from being shat upon by life and bombarded by death. Not sure you heard, but 2009 is over.
• To have at least one whole day off a week.
• A massage.
• A new pair of Chucks.
• A reason to dress like a girl. You know; pretty dress, heels, even makeup!
• To find an Easter basket on my doorstep. Yes, it's silly. But you have no idea how big a kick I'd get out of this.

That I Hope For Someday:

• To fall in love again with someone who deserves it.
• To have this person read to me at night... I miss this tremendously.
• To live debt-free and comfortably within my means (Cue Sally Struthers: "Do you wanna make more money? Sure! We all do!").
• To love where I am and what I do; in short, to be happy with my home and my occupation no matter what it is or what anybody else thinks of it.
• To have a family, including one spawnling. Yeah, I know. Never thought you'd hear me say that, did you?
• To never entirely fit within the confines of a box. 
• To not only allow, but welcome, certain changes and risks. Otherwise life becomes boring and mundane.
• To stay true to myself, and be myself regardless of what may happen.
• To be the coolest old lady ever. And be surrounded by a bunch of geezers just as cool as me.

When I see you, you make my high come down...

Tonight after I got off work, I stayed in. Turned the music up loud. And attempted to be somewhat productive. Key word is attempted... see where I am now?

I need to clean up my apartment. Bad. As in I need to spend about four days snorting meth and injecting epinephrine and then using that energy to go through all my laundry (put away clean and sort out stuff that is now too big), vacuum my carpet, do my dishes, get rid of the random shit that builds up on open flat surfaces, and, oh, how about finish unpacking my crap? Yeah. It's pretty bad up in here. Even my cats think so. They let me know by puking on my floor at every possible opportunity. Generally when I'm getting my stuff together to walk out the door, just so I know I'll have something waiting for me when I get home. Thanks, guys.

So yeah. I got a little done. A little. Baby steps, baby steps. One sad thing; I was planning on listening to records while cleaning. But alas, my turntable is no longer working. Went to put on some shitty album I bought at Goodwill or Habitat and, nothing. Where the AC cord plugs into the back has been loose, and has come out of the frame before, but the wires were still fine, and everything worked. But I guess something happened recently where the thing just doesn't get power. Sadness.

The other night, I decided to watch a movie in bed. Fired up the old desktop computer that I never use anymore and opened up the DVD tray... lo and behold, there was a DVD already in there. Ha. What was it, you ask? It was my cheating, cowardly, waste-of-time ex-boyfriend's copy of I Heart Huckabees. Pretty much his favorite movie- he went on and on about it. And guess who doesn't have it anymore? Him. (Even though given where he is now, he's probably gained a few other critters since I acquired his favorite film). I thought I had returned it, but what he got back was an empty DVD case. I suppose that since it was the night he left me for a walking STD with the brain of a fruit fly and the personality of a clone of every other female mid-20's townie-hipster-wannabe that I was gathering his belongings, while crying uncontrollably and doing my best to not vomit and/or hurl myself from my second story balcony, it didn't cross my mind to look inside the DVD case I was packing up. Ooops. I was a bit distracted. My bad.

I have decided to banish white socks from my footwear repertoire. They just aren't any fun. I will keep what I have, but will purchase no more. From now on, only fun colorful or patterned socks. Life is too short for boring-ass socks. And no, I will not go out of my way to ensure that my socks match my clothing. I will only ensure that my socks each match each other. Because duh... mismatched socks are so tacky.

At work today, a couple customers returned an electric crackling fire log. You know, one of those fake logs with a lightbulb behind an orange moving cover that makes it seem like fire? Yeah, one of those. Nothing wrong with it. Works fine. But we can't resell it. Because the thing REEKED of weed. Not smoked weed, but sticky, fresh-from-the-baggie weed. Or so I've been told that's what that smells like... When I say reeked, I mean you could have turned the thing on and just the little bit of heat that lightbulb put off probably would have been enough to hotbox the room. It was strong enough that we all took the damn thing completely out of the box to make sure they didn't leave a stash in there. For the rest of the day, it was a fun game of "Name That Smell!". The box stayed behind the customer service desk, and every time an employee would walk by, whoever was behind the desk would call them over and have them smell the logs. "What do you smell?" Most people got it right off... there'd be that moment when it hit them... snnifffff....... Haha! Whoa! They were dubbed the GanjaLogs. Too bad we don't really sell such a thing. Afterall, I do get a discount.

Not that I would ever buy such a product or would even know what to do with it...

Where I've been the past 5 days...

I have just returned from the 2010 North American Veterinary Conference in Orlando, Florida. Four days of educational lectures/sessions on all sorts of interesting (and sometimes not-so-interesting) animal-health related topics.

But with these sorts of events come other things. There is the little bit of networking you can do to meet those in your field. There are the insanely overpriced sandwiches and sodas and, well, everything. There are the social events sponsored by the big-name companies.

And then there is the Exhibit Hall. Where vendors near and far come to exhibit their products and services. The Exhibit Hall- also referred to as the Free Shit Extravaganza. Seriously. I came home with so much stuff; some useful, some just trinkets, but all branded. I really would like to see the total amount of money spent on this stuff by all these companies. I will not need to buy a pen or a notepad for the next three years. I got a number of really nice and useful books- real, actual books on pain management, parasitology, animal nutrition and dietary management, the use of Sevoflurane, emergency medicine, and algorithms to aid diagnoses. Educational CD-ROMs on various subjects. I got a camping stool. A travel coffee mug. A stainless steel water bottle. A pair of Crocs. A couple T-shirts. A hat. A pedometer. A flea comb. Samples of soap, hand sanitizer, wound treatment sprays and lotions, odor removers, surface sanitizers, cat treats, dog biscuits, bird treats, natural calming supplements, feline probiotics. A laptop bag. A balance ball. A bunch of those reusable grocery-type bags. Keychains, magnets. Letter openers, luggage tags. A couple travel first aid kits. All sorts of little knick-knacks and what-nots. And did I mention the pens?? Absolute Heaven for a pen-fetishist like me. This Exhibit Hall was larger than a football field, a carnival of commerce, a veritable sea of salesmen and samples and soundbytes. Compounding pharmacies, major pharmaceutical companies, pet food manufacturers, pet product distributors, surgical instrument makers, digital radiology and ultrasonography manufacturers, pet burial bag and urn makers, dietary supplement makers, not-for-profit organizations, veterinary professional organizations, practice management software companies, book publishers, kennel makers, surgery table and light makers, colleges, the military, corporate veterinary hospitals, collar and leash makers, companies that make everything (3M), needle/syringe/tube/catheter/etc. manufacturers, pet insurance companies... you name it, if they do something or make something that could even be in the same building as an animal, they were there. And besides all the free shit, I did get exposure to smaller companies I had not heard of and information about what these companies offer- always good to know what's out there when actually working in the field.

I did learn some things from the sessions as well. I really enjoyed a few lectures on animal behavior given by a DVM. There were a few I wasn't so thrilled about, must most taught me at least one thing I didn't previously know. I was a little surprised at how basic some of the technician-track lectures were; a few in the 'advanced' and 'specialty' category were not much more than I have learned in my classes. I also found many of the DVM-track lectures to be less dry and with more humor- it was obvious that those were professionals who were used to lecturing to large groups.

We were allotted $15 per day to buy lunch at the conference. Now here in Athens one thinks, "Shit yeah. $15 is gonna get me a killer lunch! I'll hit up DePalmas or East West, maybe check out who's over at The Globe or Trappeze. No T-Stand for me today!!". But alas, in Orlando, at a conference, in a Marriott-owned hotel... not so. There, $15 equaled one sandwhich (hamburger, turkey/ham/roast beef, or caesar chicken wrap), a teeny bag of chips, a candy bar or cookies, and a can of soda. And then back at the hotel we were staying at, one of those little personal pan pizzas from Pizza Hut was $6. A 20-oz bottle of soda was $3. Place be expensive.

And hell, I got to see Foreigner. Thanks to Bayer for that one; they were the Monday night entertainment. Unfortunately my camera died 15 minutes into the show. I was hoping to have video of my favorite cheesy Foreigner song, but no dice. Either way, it was awesome. In so many ways. The entertainment for the opening ceremonies was Martin Short. I haven't seen him in anything recently. He looked old. It was pretty good, and he resurrected a few of his past popular characters. But sorry, Mr. Short. You just can't top Foreigner.

So all in all, a pretty good trip. Fun was had, learning was done. But I am glad to be home. I missed my kitties and my ridiculously-comfortable bed. I missed drinking a beer and watching a movie and fucking around on Facebook and Blogger. I missed nice toilet paper.

Yeah.

Good to be home.

Duet.

The other day I was in the liquor store buying booze (heh, what's new?)... of course I was carded because the only thing I have that gives away my real age is some sporadic grey- actually metallic silver- hairs. Here I am, all disheveled and fresh out of a full day of school and work, seriously needing a shower, buying a bottle of Jameson and a bottle of Bulleit. And the guy behind the counter looks at my ID and says "That's a good picture of you". Of course the first thing I think is, "Jesus, I must look like shit right now...". It's not a bad photo. But it's not particularly good either. I look pretty goofy in it, a little too happy. Mostly due to the fact that the night before I renewed my license I went out and got blasted on bourbon (duh) and good beer, and was attempting to not be obviously hungover at the DMV. I'm wearing a yellow hoodie, my hair is a little flippy, and there is a glare from the flash off my glasses. I got there hoping they wouldn't take a new photo. The photo previous to this one; that was a good photo. I pretty much begged the woman to let me keep it, to no avail. So yeah, what to think when someone tells you a photo you aren't all that thrilled about is a good one? Other than "Gee, thanks. Glad to not look like my usual ogre self.", I'm not sure.

Had my first instance of blatant racism in a long time today. At work. I was behind the service desk, as per usual. A girl named Tiffany happened to be using one computer at the desk to print something out. Tiffany is a cash office clerk; she does not deal with the public or the store itself or anything. She doesn't know where anything is, or what department carries what. But of course, she's standing there, and though she's not wearing a vest proclaiming her employer, she becomes fair game. An elderly woman comes up and, as I'm on the phone, ropes her into a conversation about whether those ant hotel bait trap things make your house smell. During this time, a middle-aged black woman comes up and gets in line. Now is the time to mention that Tiffany is also black. My phone conversation ends, Tiffany is still telling the elderly woman that the ant hotel will not smell bad, so I smile at the middle-aged black woman and say, "I can help you right here, ma'am!". She looks at me, curls up her lip, and shakes her head. Um. Ok. So then I think, "Well, she's wearing a scrub top- maybe she's a caretaker and is just waiting on the elderly woman who is asking sort of crazy questions...". But then the elderly woman leaves and though Tiffany tries to make her escape back into her cozy little money room with no people, the middle-aged black woman walks up to her and asks her about some sort of rack we used to have (of which Tiffany has no idea, and proceeds to just make something up and send her off to Hardware). So then I think, "Well, maybe they know each other.". After the woman wanders off, I asked Tiffany if she knew her. Nope. And then she laughs about how she had no idea what that woman wanted... then she says "I thought she was with that other old lady since you were standing there and she didn't ask you.". So then I told her how I'd tried to help her, and got shot down. Jokingly I say, "I guess she didn't want to talk to the white girl!" Tiffany just laughed even harder, then told me how she had no idea what she wanted and just sort of sent her off somewhere. Then she says, "That's what she gets for asking the black girl instead; I should have told her it was in Garden! Yeah, just go out those doors, oh yeah, keep going, you'll see it!" Glad I wasn't the only one to see the ridiculousness of that situation. But still... wow.

"Well, I think I'll have a Coke, then."

Just before the new year, I wrote a long email to a friend in which I described the way my quarter-life/late 20's crisis was playing out. I felt it made the email a bit too long, so I deleted it all before sending with a statement saying I was going to write a blog about it instead. As you can see, I've still not done that. And today I'm not going to. I'll get to it at some point I'm sure....

It has come to my attention that I need either a bigger fridge, or a seperate fridge that is used exclusively for beverages. I don't know why I must (MUST!) have the selection of drinks that I do. And I'm not talking about alcoholic drinks; no well-stocked bar with every spirit I could imagine so I can make you any drink you imagine, no. Though that would be super-neat, so feel free to contribute... I'm talking just regular old drinks. It's completely unnecessary. I live by myself. No one every comes over and hangs out. I don't have parties. But shit, if someone did come over? Damn, I got something for you to drink. I guess I just can't commit to having the choice of only one soda, one juice, and water and milk. Today, for example, I went to the grocery store. And left with a carton of milk, three different 12-packs of soda, two different containers of juice, a package of juice boxes, coffee beans, Ovaltine mix, a 12-pack of beer, and a 6-pack of ginger ale. This is now added to the left-over cans of a different fourth soda, 2 other containers of juice, a container of egg nog, and a pitcher of water. WTF?

Speaking of beverages... lately there have been a higher number of people at my place of work carrying around soda bottles. But instead of soda, they are filled with Essence of Oral Neoplasia. Absolutely disgusting. I can't believe there are still that many people- young people at that- who chew tobacco. I just don't see where someone would think, "Damn, brah. Smoking cigarettes makes dudes look like pussies. But when those bitches see me comin', with my big bulge and that little bit of chunky brown liquid trickling from the corner of my mouth, you know they all be creamin' their panties!". I mean, really. Who doesn't want to make out with that? Hell, he might even share his wad.

Something else that's become more common at work is something totally small and stupid, yet each time it happens I have a moment of freak-out and then really want to bathe in something corrosive. I'm not sure if it stems from a lack of mathematical prowess or from sheer laziness, but I really wish it would stop. And this is going to make me sound like one of those OCD germophobes who has to use exactly 0.47 ml of pink liquid handsoap squirted into the left palm between the love line and the life line just below the ring finger knuckle when they wash their hands 46 times a day. (on a side note... I wonder how those people do with the public sinks that have the push-down faucets... you know, the ones that only give you 7 seconds of water before you have to push it again?) Anyway. What bothers me is when these dirty old man contractor/construction types come up and pay with cash, hand you the bills, then dig through their pockets for change, usually while saying something stupid about how the cashier should take them out to dinner. But then instead of looking at their change and giving you the proper coins, they hold out a dirty old man construction type hand filled with coins (mostly pennies), random screws, chunks of lint, tokens from something-or-other, wads of paper, old pieces of candy, and god knows what else. And then stare at you. Until you realize that they are expecting you to dig through it all for the correct change. Ugh. Half the time I don't even want to touch your money. The last thing I want to do is go feeling up your hand to find a nickel. It grosses me out. And makes me want to set my hands on fire.

I really like salt and vinegar chips. So much so that I just ate almost half a bag while writing this.

Another thing. Monster Jam. Fuck yeah. I think I shall go again another time.

So far...

Meh.

2010 (twenty ten, of course) has yet to blind me with brilliance. It's four days in. The first day, I slept in, ran my rent check to the landlord, then spent the rest of the day lounging on the couch eating junk food and watching movies. But then day 2 hit.

The morning of Day 2, my car wouldn't start. Turn key, nothing happens. I was an hour late for work (but only an hour late thanks to a ride from a friend). Upon descriptions of what didn't happen when I turned the key, the most likely explanation was a weak battery that couldn't handle the cold. And I agree with it, because I don't like cold either. But I'm not allowed to just stop. Jerk. Anyway, work, then friend who took me to work picked me up and took me to Hell On Earth (aka Wal-Mart) so I could get a new battery. Of course, the only one they had that would work for my car was the expensive one. But whatever. I just want it to start.

Get that, get some cat litter, get the hell out of there. Friend I'm with has an invite to hang out for a bit downtown, so I go with. It's already dark and freezing out, so it's not like we're going to go put this battery in now. Go have some beers. Go make a run somewhere. Back downtown, another friend shows up, new venue, more beers. Yay Saturday night dance party! Someone stomps on my foot, whatever, happens all the time. Dance with some folks. Have a bit too much fun....

Day 3. Get up after not nearly enough sleep. Go to work. Have to get a ride again since new battery is in friend's car and not my car. Foot hurts, but I figure it's my crappy shoes. Work, get a ride home. Call friend with battery and cat litter. He comes over. Just for shits and giggles, he says to try to start the car. And it starts right up. WTF? So we don't put in the new battery, but agree it'd be smart to hold on to it for a few days and see what happens. Friend leaves, I make dinner, lounge on couch, watch movies. Take off shoes. Foot still throbbing while I'm just sitting there. Take off sock. Whole left pinky toe is blackish purple. Yum.

Day 4. Toe hurts more than yesterday. I feel gimpy. But there isn't anything you can do about a broken toe, really. And I probably look pretty sketchy because I make wide berths around people; I'm terrified someone will step on my foot or bump it. That shit hurts. And this morning, car would not start. So friend comes over, puts in new battery. It starts! Yay! Take a shower, go to a meeting. On way to meeting, stop and get gas. And car won't start... WTF? But then it does, just after a 5 second delay. What is that about?

So far 2010 has given me 80 bucks spent on a battery, a car that is still acting up with the new battery, and a broken toe.

Sigh.

2009. The year that went down in infamy.

A year ago today, I had such high hopes for 2009.

After having a mildly stressful 2008, which then turned around in the second half, the first day of '09 held nothing but good for me. I finally liked where I was, who I was, and everything else that goes with it. It really did seem like finally things were going my way, and it was about damn time too. I saw so much potential for 2009.

I had a job that I liked though the pay was a little on the low end.
I lived in a little house that I loved and had no desire to leave.
I was seeing a man I was already falling deeply in love with, who seemed to care for me just as much as, if not more than, I cared for him.
I had the school situation figured out, and it was no longer a concern.
All in all, I had a keen eye on the future and all things looked good.

Funny how everything can fall apart in a year. One by one, each of these things (and all the lesser things that went with them) were systematically taken from me. I didn't lose them; they were ripped away from me and I was left standing there wondering what I'd done this time to deserve it.

It started in March. My job decided they didn't need me; first they dropped me from 46 hours a week to 16 with a promise that my hours would return when the fiscal year turned in a couple weeks. Budgeting, they said. But no worries, you'll be back on the first of next month. Lie. Two weeks later they laid me off instead. Right in the middle of a completely bottomed out job market- no one was hiring. Then it took three weeks for unemployment to go through, so I was without any income for almost a month, and didn't make enough at that last job to keep a buffer going.

So I couldn't pay my rent. I talked to my landlord, and arranged to find new tenants for the house. She agreed to let me out of my lease early with no penalties. But I loved that place.... At the beginning of April I moved into a house with two people I didn't know. A house in the woods 30 minutes from Athens. At first it was cool; there were all these plans for the place and whatnot. It was going to be a nice change from what I was used to.

Beginning in May, I got hired as a seasonal employee at a home improvement retail store as a cashier. Starting pay there was more than minimum wage, and was more than I made at the job I liked. The job is ok; it's mindless and simple and doesn't require outside energy. Clock in, do your thing, clock out, done. And well, in a time and place where any job was scarce, steady employment was welcome. But I often worked evenings, not getting home until 11 pm. Which was around the time said man was generally getting ready for bed for his normal day job. So we started seeing less of each other around this time.

Then one of the housemates got a job in Tennessee. He was going to be living there through the week, and be home on the weekends. The other housemate already worked nights 4 nights a week, so there was often no one there when I was there. It started to get really lonely, and the man was getting tired of driving out there (I was still in a financial hole and was often low on gas).

By the time late July hit, I wanted out of that house because it was too far away, and just so lonely out there. Then that option was the only one I had, because at the beginning of September, I was told that the housemates were breaking the lease, and I should go ahead and find new living arrangements.
I wanted to be closer to town, closer to my love, back in the place I fit better. With working so many evenings, I know he was feeling lonely too since I just couldn't be there as often. But I didn't have a choice at that point. And besides, we loved each other and said so, and what's the most important thing? It was temporary, until I graduated and got a normal job.

Well, even that wasn't good enough. He moved into a new apartment in August, and within two weeks was hanging out with a girl he had tried to date a few years ago. She, at that time, was not interested in the least. But now she was looking for attention from anyone who'd take her. And he was there to give it to her. She lived in the apartment upstairs, one over. So she turned on the charm. She knew what she was doing... and she knew I was busy and not around all that often anymore. She made him believe he was a lot more unhappy than he'd ever been, seeing as how he'd never said anything to me other than about how my schedule sucked, and generally when people really love each other they work on any issues before they just cut and run.

So a month later, he left me for her.

With no warning, nothing.

Just a week earlier he'd made a comment about how he'd never been with someone as long as he had been with me. Then he had said, that same day not even 20 minutes later, that he liked that he could be himself with me; he didn't have to hide his cheesy jokes or crude behavior. He said he liked it even more that I was just as cheesy and crude as he was. He said it made him happy, and that was one reason he loved me. A week before that, he had said that if I needed out of my house, and hadn't found anything, that I could move in with him. He said it would be nice for me to be around more. I wasn't going to do that permanently, because I didn't want to cramp his space, and also because I knew his views on couples living together too soon. But I thought about it, and thought about how nice it would be to be there. We'd also had a running joke about how fast he'd get me to the clinic if I were to get pregnant; obviously neither of us were in a place to have kids, so yeah, terminating it would be the logical thing to do, and this was an opinion shared by both of us... but still, one afternoon in August we were sitting on my back deck. As I said, that talk was generally all joking and stuff. Then he busts out with "Well. I mean, if it really did happen... would you want to keep it?" And I sat for a moment, and said with all honesty, "For me, I guess it would depend on timing. Right now would be bad, because I'd be due just before graduating, so I wouldn't be able to finish school. But say, if it happened in December... well, honestly, I might. Is that ok?" And he said yeah. Also around this time, he was talking about how he really needed to go back to school, to figure out what he wanted to do. I asked why he was so worried about it; I knew he wanted to go back, but he hadn't decided on what or where or anything, so it didn't seem to be so urgent. He said he needed to go back and get a different job. Because he couldn't support a family on his current income.

I mean, if I'm telling the man I would have his kid he's got to realize that I'm in it for the long haul. And these statements made by him all happened in the month previous to him leaving out of nowhere. And to me, these things don't sound like things that someone who is totally unhappy would say to their significant other.

But regardless, I guess 2009 had other plans, because he still left.

That was definitely the kicker for the year. After everything else fell apart, I had the one thing left. But he just couldn't handle real life it seems. Just couldn't handle that things aren't always perfect, and that people aren't always completely happy.

So yup. 2009. A year that started out with so much promise ended up ripping me a new one. And for that, I say Good Riddance, 2009. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out.