As the job turns

I took an online quiz to see which jobs suited me the best. These are my results:


Novelist - It would take way more writing ability that I currently possess for this one to even be in the far reaches of my skills.

Photographer - Don't you have to have a camera for that?

Vet - More education than I have. AND the yipping/yapping/barking/smell of it all.

Medical Technician - More tolerance for people than I have.

Paralegal - Yawn.

Geologist - I find this interesting because I use to work for a geologist and he was a prick. However, I don't have a degree in geology.

Marine Biologist - Again, this would take more education than I have and there is not a whole lot of marine life in Oklahoma. I'm just saying.

Graphic Designer - Another ironic job title. I use to work for a graphic designer. It's a hard business to get in to and even harder to be successful and there's the whole lack of graphic arts degree thing that's hanging out there.

Online Content Developer - Um, what?

Webmaster - I do this already. I built a website for a local restaurant and I maintain it. Go me. I don't get paid for it. Unless you count free food. Then I totally get paid and my ass could totally retire now. Seriously.

Computer Security - Huh?

Producer - Of what? Tell me, producer of what? Canned corn? Movies? Porn? Tomatoes?

Computer Programmer - Okay, now you're pissing me off.

Technical Writer - !

Systems Analyst - !! You hate me don't you?

Meteorologist - Like I could compete with Gary England. Pfft. Also...under-educated I is.

Artist - I would totally be on board with this. I already have my art hanging in the den and if I had more time I could produce more art. I seriously doubt that this position offers major medical. Bummer. This one would fit me more than the others.

Back to square 1.

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Mid-life work crisis

I know that I should feel lucky and grateful that I have a steady job. I work for a non-profit that has a lot of public support and will never shut its doors. I'm thankful. Really. I am. I don't have to worry about being laid off, my kids have medical insurance and I have a paycheck.

So why am I so miserable that I want to find a new job?

I am the reason Lithium was invented. Seriously.

Why is it so hard to leave corporate America? I'm not qualified to do anything other than run an office. I'm good at it, but I am growing to hate every single minute of it. I'm growing to hate my co-workers and I'm growing to hate my boss even more than I did before. I feel like an ass for that because the man has cancer but I can't help how I feel.

I want to be a park ranger, a painter, motivational speaker (who am I kidding!) or a lingerie model (shut up). I have dreams people and it doesn't involve receiving paper cuts on a daily basis. I want to be irresponsible. I want to yell "I quit", walk out the door and never return. But I can't. I have bills to pay and children to keep healthy and fed. Why does this have to be so hard?

So, I'm praying that I will find the path that will make me happy. Praying, hoping and wishing.

Maybe I should get off my butt and actually do some work to find this miracle happy making job. :) I guess it's not going to fall out of the sky and hit me on the head. Damnit.


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Ghosts of lunches past

It's funny how as days go by and you get busy with life that you forget certain details of your life. As as I was sitting at a traffic light today I glanced to the car next to me. I noticed that it was a taxi, and then I noticed the gentleman driving the taxi. He smiled at me and slowly nodded his head. I smiled back. He looked so familiar to me and it took about another hour for me to remember who he was.

A few months ago after running errands I needed to eat and decided on McDonald's since it happened to be on my way. There was a lot of traffic and I didn't realize that I had pulled into the drive-thru in front of someone who had been waiting. This person pulled in behind me and honked. I finally figured out what the problem was and I felt horrible. He pulled in beside me to let me know what I had done and I apologized to him profusely and motioned for him to go ahead of me. A minute later he honked at me and motioned for me to go ahead of him, so I did.

When I got up to the window and paid for my lunch and I told the cashier that I wanted to pay for the lunch of the gentleman behind me. He said "Really? Why?" I explained that I had accidentally jumped in line ahead of him and I wanted to make up for it. His response? "Seriously? Why would you pay for his lunch?" 3 times he asked before he finally took my money. $3.47 for his lunch. A small price to pay to ease my guilt.

About 10 blocks later sitting at another stop light I heard a honk. I looked over and saw the man roll down his window, so I rolled down mine. He said in a thick accent "Ma'am, you did not have to do that." "I know sir, but I felt bad and I wanted to make it up to you." He smiled and thanked me and the light turned green. He changed lanes and followed behind me for a few blocks, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw him smile as he drove away.

A small price to pay to make someone smile.

Adventures in house training

We kind of sort of rescued a puppy a couple weeks ago and by rescue I mean "stole". Heh. I'll have to fill you in on that later, until the coast is clear. Ahem.

We fell in love with this puppy immediately. He's quite a character. He likes to jump, run, chew on everything and knock Molly down to watch her cry. Molly is missing a lot of crayons and I think maybe it's not a coincidence. Oh the look on his face says "I didn't do it mommy I swear", but it's hard to believe him with crayon wrapper stuck to his face.

To say that house training is not going that great is like telling the last Cheeto in the bag that it's safe from Britney. I try to watch him like a hawk but when your trying to make dinner and wrangle a 2 year old, it's just not that easy. In the evenings we put him in the den with the gate up while Eugene is in there destroying precious brain cells playing XBox and he has never peed in there (the dog..not Eugene..although sometimes I wonder). The dog door is in the den and it opens up into a fairly large brick dog run, so the dog door and the hard wood floors are probably the reason he doesn't pee in there. But the minute he steps on the living room carpet he feels the need to drop his contents right then and there. It's frustrating, and when I try to grab him to take him outside he thinks it's a game and starts running and does he stop peeing while he's running? Hells no. He's peeing and running, I'm yelling and chasing. I end up with a small puddle and then a line of pee running through half of the house and I'm chasing a puppy who thinks I'm playing and I'm really thinking up puppy meat recipes in my head. And! I guarantee you that I would be the ONLY one in the house to see the 15 foot long stream of pee. It's like everyone else in the house can't see below their knees.

It's amazing how less cute he became after he started pissing on everything. Every time I step in a wet spot the only thing that comes out of my mouth is "Fucking shithead puppy." I say that with much love and adoration. Really. Because 10 minutes later I'm wrestling with him and rubbing his tummy. If I can't catch him in the act it doesn't do any good to scold him. I shower him with love with the hopes that he will eventually get that fact that mommy doesn't like it when he pees on the floor and he will love me so much that he will want to please me and what would please me is for him to relieve himself outside. Preferably before I put the finishing touches on my puppy kabob recipe.

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Rules of my the road

Dear Oklahoma drivers,

Heed these rules or I will slash your tires and key your pretty paint job ala Carrie Underwood:

1. Put down your damn cell phone, newspaper, lipstick, chicken McNugget and put your left arm in, put your left arm out, put your left arm in and you shake it all about and pay attention, that is MY lane your inching into. Get any closer and I will CUT YOU!

2. Slamming on your brakes does nothing for me, does it do something for you? Because if you don't quit it, it will do "something" for the car repair shop your going to have to go to when I slam my gas guzzling SUV into the back of your little bitty car.

3. Every time you change lanes in an attempt to get into the "faster" lane, God kicks a puppy.

4. Honking your horn does not make traffic go faster, it does however make my middle finger go up faster.

Any questions?

Have a complaint? Call 1-800-SUCK-IT

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Butt plugs and dildos

Why I spewed orange Fanta thru my nose and coughed so hard I threw up:

"Mom? What's a butt plug?"

"Ummm, well. Uhhhh, it's a uhhhh, where in the hell did you learn that from?"

"When I was at aunt C's house I watched Angry Kid videos."

"Oh, well uhhhhh.... they are, well...lets see uhhh......shit! Did you get permission to watch those videos?"

"Well, Meg showed me a couple of them, but then I watched more after she left."

"Oh, well uhhhhh, a butt plug is...well, it's something that grown up people use for uhhhhh, well, for sexual pleasure."

"Oh"

"Hey mom?"

"Yes."

"Whats a dildo?"

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Tattoos and tits

When I was young, I was stupid. Not just a little stupid, but STOOPID. Oh I'm not saying I wasn't intelligent, but when it came to love and men.....STOOPID. It probably had something to do with the fact that I was a lesbian and I couldn't figure it out at the time and I latched on to each man who paid attention to me so I could get married and squeeze babies out my vagina like a redneck female was "supposed" to do.

So, I married a guy. He was from "the city", had a fast car, tattoos and I thought he was cool. We got married a month after we started dating.

*blink*

Yes, I said 1 month. Don't be hatin, I said I was stupid. Then I topped my stupidity and got his name tattooed on my left tit. Yes, the stupid flowed like wine. I drank that wine, yes I did and then I threw up all over my shoes.

I later got the tattooed covered with the only thing that would cover it at the time. A tribal shark. It was cool when I picked it out. Not so much anymore. Since that time I've gained weight and had another baby so it's more like a stretched out deformed dolphin than a shark. Hindsight ya know.

For some reason Molly loves the shark. When we are in the shower or I'm changing clothes she always has to look at it and it poke it with her finger. Yesterday was no exception. I don't wear a bra when I'm at home because I like to be comfortable. You could just take a look at my ass imprint in the sofa and know just how much comfort I have. I was sitting on the sofa, Molly was in my lap and she tugged on my shirt and said "I wanna look at shark", so I yanked up my shirt so she could look at it and poke it with her finger for the millionth time.

Only something happened. As I was watching the Olympics and letting her poke at the shark this white hot pain shot through my tit and it was as if lightening had traveled through my body. I damn near peed on myself and almost threw Molly across the room. Why she decided to pinch the ever living shit out of my nipple remains a mystery, but I guarantee one thing. The next time she wants to look at it I'm wearing cast iron pasties.


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Fishy

I'm not usually a squeamish kind of person and I have the gag reflex of a professional bulimic but UPS just delivered a box to our office for my boss. On the side of the box in big red letters is "LIVE FISH". I know that my boss has a new garden pond so it all makes sense but my face probably had "perplexed" written all over it. Five minutes later when I could hear the fish moving around in the water it freaked me out. I have no idea why, but the thought of fish swimming around in a box makes my hiney twinge. It's like fingernails on a chalkboard. Only it's fish...in a box. I may need someone to hold me.

He told me that he bought it at an auction and that it is an authentic Japanese Koi. Of all the odd deliveries that arrive here for him, this one is the most amusing. And the most expensive I imagine. I think I may need to go home an pet my goldfish and remind him that he's still special even though he's not Asian.

Kittles

Okay, I like to think of myself as a tolerant person. *snort* Okay I'm not tolerant, what I am is a big pussy with no spine and I don't like to rock the boat. So when something happens that pisses me off or bugs me I tend to not do a damn thing about it.

Today? I'm on the phone with a good ole boy who owns an oil & gas company, who just so happened to give the non-profit I work for a big donation and is taking part in one of our fundraisers. He called today to give me some information I needed and first off, it was hard to understand him as his hillbilly accent was no match for my ears despite the training I received having a back-woods redneck brother.

Secondly, he talked rrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy slow. It was like a car that wouldn't go. I wanted to slam on the gas and beat the steering wheel, instead? I get to stare blankly at the wall waiting for him to finish. I have had practice at this having slept with men in my former life.

At the end of the call? He said "Wha thank yew so much mayam, such a big help yew arrrr, aahhhight Kittles, talk ta ya layter." I am so not joking about this. What the hell is a Kittle? My boss got a big kick out of it and has been laughing for the past half hour and every time he walks into the room he chuckles and says "Kittles, haha."

Anyone have bail money?

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Shave & a haircut. Two bits.

I thought I would have time this morning to do some ummm...how should I put this? Landscaping the overgrown bush nestled between my supple thighs.

Did that get you hot?

It got me hot. Oh wait...that could have been a hotflash. (mental note: have hormones checked)

I thought I would have plenty of time as Lin had already left for work, Eugene was still in bed and Molly was watching TV. All I needed was a few little minutes. Just a few. That is not a lot to ask. Except that I can't remember the last time I peed by myself. Except at work. Cause that would be weird.

I was about half way to a perfectly sculpted snatch when my daughter yanked the bathroom door open. I'm so glad she's only 2 because I would have been pretty embarassed had she been old enough to grasp even the smallest notion of what was going on. My face turned red anyway.

So I had to stop. Mid-shave. Is that a word?

So now I look like a before and after picture for a porn razor commercial.

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Cancer sucks y'all.

I have worked for the same company for almost 4 years. I came here because the pay and benefits were so much better than at my previous job. I loved my last job. It was at a graphic design firm and although there were only 6 of us, it was fun. We had monthly pot-luck lunches, played music and had a good time. I even found out that a co-worker got caught cheating on his wife and when she found out he was permanently in the dog-house trying to make up for it. Boy she treated him like trash and I got my rocks off on his self inflicted misfortune. I'm kind of twisted that way.

I worked my ass off for little pay but I enjoyed it. I didn't have to wear business suits but I attempted to dress in business casual. I've always said that I dress for my income level so I'll leave it up to you to interpret that. Every year our health insurance went up without fail. My salary never went up without fail. So every year I worked there I was making less money. This fact did not go unnoticed because I do have a few brain cells that didn't die off during the great bong adventure of 91. I asked my boss for a raise. I got one. I should have been bitch slapped with putrid tuna, it would have been less painful than the puny raise I received. I was insulted. I got a new job but I cried myself into hysterics the day I left.

4 years later, I am looking for a new job yet again. When your girlfriend comments on happy you seem and your so chatty and I remember this girl, this is the girlfriend I use to have, you start to wonder what happened. I wondered out loud "Well what has changed?" The painful truth hit me in the face like big fat shit ball. I was on vacation. From work. From my boss. From that place that drags me into the deepest pits of hell and then sweats on me like a dirty whore. I knew it was time to leave.

After my small vacation, it took 3 days of being in the office before my boss put a giant guilt trip on me about something that happened a year ago and was out of my control. The very next day (which was yesterday) I started job hunting. I actually applied online for 3 different jobs. I considered it using my lunch time wisely instead of abusing company time to find my next job. Yesterday afternoon my boss called Amanda and I into the conference room to tell us that he was diagnosed with prostate cancer. I felt like someone had kicked me in the gut. I held it together while he explained everything that has happened and everything that was going to happen. Then he asked me if I was okay. I cried. Like a big baby. I cried. He said it was okay, but it's not okay.

I felt so guilty for all of the mean thoughts and all of the bitching I had done about him in the previous weeks. All of his actions plus being overworked and stressed about a multitude of things showered me with guilt. Linda had to remind me that my unhappiness with my boss and my desire to find a new job has to separated from the fact that he has cancer. And she's right. I do have to find a way to separate all of this so my judgement doesn't become cloudy. But FUCK! This is hard. My heart tells me stay until he's well, my head tells me that I have to do what is right for me and I have to let go of the rest.

When he walked through the door this morning, I wanted to cry. This man, despite the fact that he can be a condescending ass came to my fathers funeral and I cried in his arms and he didn't let go until I was ready. Fuck. This is hard.