The Best of Times...

And the worst of times...

Okay, so it's not really anywhere near the worst of times. I love my new job and the team, while I don't know them super well, seem great. I think the problem is that this is my first "normal" week where there isn't training or meetings or admin stuff to get all the tools I need to do my job. And the environment here is completely different from my last job. I am not micromanaged and that is awesome! But I also feel a bit disoriented. I can think for myself? I'm allowed to run this project the way I see fit? As a good friend put it, it's like I just got out of an abusive relationship and I'm not sure how to act. The upshot to this is that I know I am up to the task. This whole week is taking the bull by the horns and "diving in". And that's exactly what I will do as soon as this Xanax kicks in! ;-)

I have been very lazy with this blog and I am sorry not to be coming back with a funnier topic but this is currently what is on my mind. I have been given a great opportunity and I will prove that they were right to hire me.

In other news, we lost our dog of 12 years. Jackson was the biggest lover that has ever existed and we miss him so much. He had a great life and spent his last moments being loved by us at home. But I miss him every second of every day. I miss him underfoot in the kitchen, trolling for dropped food. I miss him furiously drinking his water to signal that, dammit, it was time for his meal! It pained me to cook bacon this past weekend because he wasn't there to get some as a treat. I have never had a dog from puppy to death and sometimes I feel like a five year old just saying "I want my dog back!"

Another thing that I have been wanting to write a blog about. This one has been on my mind for a couple months but I have procrastinated because words will never be adequate to talk about this topic. Teri. My best friend and one of the most amazing humans who has ever existed passed away in September. It was a huge loss. But it has brought about one thing. A little belief in... something. I don't believe in much. Karma for sure and, after Teri, I believe in signs and possibly that she is watching over me. Right after she passed, I went to CostCo, only to find it closed until 10am. So, I went to the only place nearby to grab breakfast - Gunther Toody's. I looked at the drink menu and decided to get something out of the norm for me - a bloody mary. When it was served it came with a shot of Coors Light! How random! But it made me smile and feel that she was there with me at that moment because Coors Light was the only thing she would drink. A sign! And then there was the time that I was stressed about work and waiting on a text and silently asking her to have my back and at the exact moment one of her favorite songs came on, I got a text message saying that everything at work was good to go and I was off the hook. Another sign! And I feel like Teri had a hand in getting me this new job. She, more than anyone, knew how much I needed to get out of my other situation (especially after her death). And, funnily, enough one of my new co-workers worked with Teri, knew her well, and had heard all about me and seems like a good, funny person that I can be friends with. Well done, Teri. Thank you for looking out for me.

So, there isn't much coherency to this blog. Just things that have been on my mind. Teri LOVED dogs. I hope Jackson and Teri have found each other in wherever we end up and that she is teaching him how to play Shark. And I am going to be the best darn tech writer this company has ever seen! I owe it to myself and to Teri.

RIP Teri. Thank you for EVERYTHING, especially gifting me with a little bit of believing.

RIP Jackson. I miss your stink.

Waiting is a Bitch

I am back to being a teenage girl waiting for the phone to ring from a boy I like... But with a lot more pounds packed on and a boss crush instead of a boy crush. I am waiting to hear about an official offer for a new job. I am 99% sure that it's happening but I NEED the official offer before I lose my mind. For those of you who have never met me, I AM NOT A PATIENT PERSON. I am at Defcomm 5 Freakout, people. I'm a Stage 5 Clinger to my phone! I not only want this job, I NEED it. Refer to my Rut Roh post if you are wondering why I sound so insane. If I get this new job, the world will hear me screaming "FREE AT LAST! FREE AT LAST!" I won't go into the nitty gritty of why I NEED this job so much but some of my readers already know the details. *coughhorriblecurrentworkingenvironmentcough*

Side Note: I cannot concentrate due to the waiting, so this blog is going to be rather scattered. To give you an idea of my state of mind I said "You can't draw a bleached asshole" before 8am. Then someone said that maybe you can and my mind exploded. Is a whiteboard really just a big, square bleached asshole?????????? I think I need to be sedated...

So, back to the job. It is technically a lateral move within my current company (because we were recently acquired) but it would be a new boss and new location closer to home. I need a change of scenery. To say that my current location has a lot of ghosts would be an understatement. I need a fresh start like I need wine. And maybe air.

Side Note: I bet wine would sedate me at some point. I might have Tourette's. I just said "That whore bitch has no right commenting on your body. I will shank her." before 9am. Waiting Brook is NOT pretty!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I need some horse tranquilizers or someone to sew my mouth shut.

Screw it. This blog is done before I further incriminate myself. I am going to go stare at my phone and try to keep my crazy thoughts in my head. It is now 9am and the day has already gone down the rabbit hole. See you on the other side.

Side Note: We just decided that the marker people need to make a color called "anal bleaching" to aid us in drawing an illustration because Wikipedia took down their awesome picture and anal bleaching has gotten much harder to explain.

To end on a happy note, here is the ponytail I achieved this past weekend. I have only been waiting since July 2013 for it. Suck it, cancer and chemo!

 

UPDATE:

I GOT THE JOB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And the manager decided that with my experience that it shouldn't be a lateral move so I am officially a SENIOR tech writer!!!!!!!!!!!!

Suck it, Dr. Seuss

I am an avid reader. I'm also a loyal person. But I have to betray one of my favorite authors today. You are dead to me, Dr. Seuss. You have ruined my entire week. In celebration of your birthday, my son's school has "celebrated" all week. Crazy hat day (we have no crazy hats), silly sock day (we're lucky we have clean socks, let alone silly ones), Wacky Wednesday (dressed my child like a weirdo but apparently he simply needed to be mismatched and kids made fun of him), we nailed Thursday since he dressed up like the soccer player he wants to be as a grown up (Oh, The Places You Will Go), and today left us in a bitter battle over how kids would make fun of his crazy hair. As the parent of an only child, I try to participate in everything. It's sort of the point of only having one. But I have failed miserably at this during Dr. Seuss week and, were this medicine man to still be breathing, I would shank him. Happy NOT YOUR ACTUAL BIRTHDAY ALL WEEK, Dr. Seusshole. I am going to go home and set Green Eggs and Ham on fire.

Side note: This is not the first time in this blog that I have sworn to set fire to things, is it? It's okay because I have been assured that I am a polite sociopath so I will apologize while that effing Fox in Socks floats away on his funeral pyre. You're welcome, Seuss.

Side side note: This is also not the first time I have written of shanking someone in this blog. Again, I defend myself with the polite sociopath thing. I will say sorry as I Hop on Pop with a sharp object.

It's Friday. It's clearly been a trying week. I am out of energy to keep ranting. It's time for One Fish, Two Fish, Red Wine, Blue Fish. And I am not celebrating this stupid Dr. Seuss week next year.

*throws mike and walks away*

Rut Roh...

I am officially in a huge rut. The conundrum of this is that I hate change and it even aggravates my anxiety disorder. But I am bored out of my damned skull and I am not sure what to do about it. I started this blog but that's such a small thing. Yes, I had been planning to do it for years so it's great that I got off my ass but, still, it adds 20 minutes of "new" to my life once a week if I am lucky.

Here are some of the things I have been considering:

1. Exercise... LMAO! Have you met me? But I lead off with this idea to show you just how DESPERATE I am for a change. I actually thought of starting running!!!!!!!!! This line of thinking is nothing more than a cry for help, people. Now I think we all understand the dire gravity of my rut.

2. A new pet. Namely, a dog. (Hubby won't allow another cat.) But I don't have time for a new dog (nor do I think Hubby will allow a canine either). The biggest reason that I want another pet is that another baby is so unreasonable at this point. Because a baby would be awesome (and keep me too busy to worry about my rut which is why people have babies anyway, right?)!

Side note: A baby would be awesome BUT kids do hinder a lot of your options. For example, running away to Tahiti was nixed because I can't leave Blake. As was doing whatever the Hell Reese Witherspoon does in that movie "Wild" (which my therapist keeps telling me I need to see for some reason). I guess, technically, a new puppy would also hinder the whole "Wild" thing... I'm starting to see a pattern to this rut. TOO MUCH RESPONSIBILITY.

3. New career. Okay, not a terrible idea. But I think that working at a jewelry store would not bring in the money my household needs (even if being surrounded by sparkly things all day would be great and I would totally try on fancy jewelry when my boss was at lunch). I am, above all, too practical to risk losing my house for happiness. That health insurance thing is also pretty awesome.

4. Write a book. I am too damn busy wallowing in my self-pity rut to be creative. You are assholes for suggesting that one.

5. A tattoo. Ugh. So 2001 for me. And the high only lasts a day or so. I can get out of my rut for a day or two with wine, so this idea is dead in the water.

6. Taking a class. Sure, with what time and/or money? And the only thing I really care to learn about is making my own wine. I can already cook. And why bother learning Italian when I can't run away to Italy (see Side Note above)?

7. Travelling. Awesome idea. If I had money. I am lucky I get to go nuts and stock up at Costco, let alone buy a plane ticket ANYWHERE.

So, here I sit. This rut is getting muddy... Maybe I can pretend I am at a spa... *sigh*

Snap out of it!

I need some serious Cher bitch-slapping today. My "baby" is 8 and I have been working on not crying hysterically since 6am. I should be ecstatic that I have a healthy, happy, smart, amazing child and I AM but... he is 8!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was supposed to have more than one so I could keep that whole baby thing going. Life screwed me on that plan. I will be honest, I hear my neighbor's (4th) baby crying when I let the chickens out each morning and I feel a wee bit stabby. It's probably a good thing I am seeing my shrink today.

Side note: I am also self-medicating with Cheetos. They are not the same as having more than one child. But I think the Torula Yeast is a close second.

I played the 20th anniversary CD of Dirty Dancing on my way to work and that didn't help either. I plan to take my "baby" to Red Robin for dinner tonight but will I be able to taste anything but tears???

Side note: Red Robin isn't that great so maybe the tears will help. I am a foodie raising a tasteless EIGHT YEAR OLD. *deep breath*

My mom always told me not to be in a hurry to grow up. I totally didn't listen (sorry, mom) but she was right (yay for mom, lol). The problem is that I can see his future unfolding. I remember 10, 15, 16, etc... I'm pretty sure he is going to leave me at some point even though I try to cripple his independence daily.

Side note. If you love it, set it free is total bullshit.

I'm not sure I can go on. "Blank Space" on endless replay is doing nothing for me. What do you do when Taylor Swift and Dirty Dancing don't help????????? It's the freaking Apocalypse at this point. Happy Friday, peeps. 8 years ago today I was close to having a gorgeous little boy named Blake (born 5:45pm). Today, I am just a mom feeling old and working on my Baby Squishinator (get caught up on your Phineas and Ferb).

Love you, "baby"! You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, even if you are aging way too rapidly!

Shingle bells, shingles bells, shingles all the way!

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: Do NOT get shingles.

Sure wish someone had given me that announcement before I received the lovely gift of shingles for Christmas... I know this blog isn't widely popular (yet) but why didn't one person who loves me add a "PS - Don't get shingles" to their Christmas card?? I would have listened to this sage advice. Instead I woke up with a weird rash the day after Christmas and started throwing some Benadryl at it. Took some photos and sent them to various friends for their advice (which I'm sure they loved me for). At first, shingles was ruled out due to lack of pain. Silly me. Little did I know that the pain was on its way. Merrily meandering towards me so I could ring in the New Year with pain pills (not actually the worst NYE plan that one could have now that I think about it).

SHINGLES SUCK. When the pain finally arrived, it came with force. Keeping me up at night kind of force. Making me realize that I needed to go to the doctor finally. "Yep, that's shingles and they are extremely painful and Motrin won't help at all." Thank you, Dr. Obvious. So, I was prescribed an antiviral and some Norco. And just to make sure that I suffered some more, the antiviral meds bottle told me to take all 4 pills for the day at once. So, I went home and downed 3,200 mg of Acyclovir. And then promptly threw up and lay, writhing with nausea, for the remainder of the day.

The next day, I eyed the Acyclovir warily and decided to employ my pharmacist connections (thanks, Mom!). Um, you are supposed to take one pill, four times daily, with milk or a snack. In other words, I had OD'd on antiviral meds the day before.

Side note: I bet you all thought if I OD'd on anything, it would have been the pain pills. Shame on you for thinking badly of me. This gal knows how to handle her narcotics, thank you very much!

Anywho, I am now done with the antiviral meds (and, sadly, the pain pills) yet the pain and rash are still there. They were not kidding when they said this shit takes forever to go away. I got the gift that keeps on giving for Christmas this year. Santa is a real asshole. It was terrible to have to put on a bra and real clothes to come to work last week. And it hasn't been any better this week. I would apply for a job at a nudist colony but I am hoping by the time that I would get hired that these damn shingles will be gone. Plus, no one wants to see this hot mess bod that I am rocking.

So, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! I slacked on the blog over my break but promise to be back to posting at least once weekly.

I am attaching some pics of my Christmas present. Look at your own risk, people! (And that's the area around my armpit in case you are curious.)

This is serious, people...

I am being threatened daily. I wake up every day feeling bone-chilling terror. Yep, it's another day and that means one less day I have to prepare for Christmas. Our Christmas countdown calendar has Santa Clause on it and, at this point, he looks like Pennywise to me as I change 07 days until Christmas to 06. 06???????????????????????? I get to work and anxiously check my 5,000 Amazon orders. So many of them say "guaranteed delivery by December 24th at 8pm". THE FUCK? Amazon better come through.

Side note: Will I be wrapping everything after 9pm on Christmas Eve? I'm supposed to be long drunk before then. THIS MAKES ME FEEL STRESS AND I AM ALREADY NOT A CALM PERSON.

In addition to my Pennywise countdown calendar, my son remembered that we made Christmas cookies with Grandma last year and expressed his immense interest in experiencing this joy again. (Thanks, Mom.) In my last post I declared that no baking would be done. DAMN IT. I think I am making cookies with the kiddo on Monday since I have the whole week off and, therefore, the time to make Christmas as merry as effing possible. I will not be using Mom's fabulous (and labor intensive) recipe. I plan to buy one of those sugar cookie mixes and some cheap frosting. Hell, I might even just buy already made sugar cookies.

Side note: Baking will require a box of wine. I have needs and standards.

At some point, I will be making the reindeer food. This is actually pretty easy but I am still pissed that this has become a thing. There was no glittery reindeer food scattered in the front yard in my day and I turned out just fine (right??????).

I will remember to set out cookies and milk for Santa. Then, after the child goes to bed, I will pretend to eat the cookies and leave a thank you note. I will sneak Santa's presents down under the tree, along with the presents from Rudolph and Poof.

Side note: This is all super fun because for the last two years my child has refused to sleep so all the Santa crap has to be stealthier than that whole catching Bin Laden thing that happened. Christmas Eve after the child is "sleeping" is like Zero Dark Thirty in my house. I'm asking for night vision goggles for Christmas next year.

One Christmas Eve chore that I don't mind is sending Poof back to the North Pole. Farewell, you little pain in the ass!

For all my complaining, I do love this time of year. I love that I can create magic for my son. I know it won't last forever and I will be sad when some of the magic is gone. So, I will be Santa and Rudolph and Poof and whatever else it takes to make my son feel the joy oh the holidays for as long as possible. Even if that means being threatened by a countdown calendar and baking...

My little Christmas corner where I snuggle with the kiddo and the pets. Makes it all worth it. Merry Christmas, everyone!