So I'm back at work after nearly a week off. Why is it so hard to get back into the swing of things after a "vacation"? I'm just sitting here staring off into space. I keep logging on to Facebook hoping there will be a rash of updates for me to read. Sadly, there aren't. I guess everyone is tackling their inboxes like I should be doing.
Anyway, I had this whole blog post typed out about my mother and Thanksgiving. Then I got too scared to post it. Yes, me, a 35 year old woman who is married and has a child of her own was TOO SCARED to post anonymously about her mother. What if one day I become a famous blogger (ha ha) and my mother goes through my old posts and reads what I wrote about her in 2009? What if someone I know gets offended by my post and sends it to my mother? And why does my mother have such a hold on me? Why is it that when I go to her house for a holiday I suddenly turn into my 15 year old self? Afraid to rock the boat.
Maybe my issues lie in the fact that my mother is a very private person. She doesn't like anyone to know what's going on with our family. Everyone has skeletons in their closets. Everyone has a black sheep somewhere. We are no different. And personally, I think it's freeing to be open about that stuff. There are many more people that can relate to you than those that can't. If they judge, so be it. What are we hiding from? (Other than my mother, of course)
Maybe it's because years ago my mother was in the basement of our old childhood home cleaning out boxes. She came across a box of my stuff and inside were some letters. Of course my mother opened the letters and read them. They were in HER house she she had the right, she claimed. One letter I had written to a friend referred to my mother by her first name. This horrified my mother. "YOU DO NOT CALL ME C! YOU CALL ME MOM! I AM YOUR MOTHER!" I think there were other things I said in the letter but for some reason calling her by her first name to a friend of mine was the worst offense. I asked why she even read them as they were my private property and she went on again about how they were in her house so she had the right to read them. The whole thing caused way too much drama and many weeks of not speaking to one another.
So what could really happen? My hope would be that she would read what I wrote and view it objectively. But I also think that's my 15 year old pie in the sky self trying to rationalize my actions. The 35 year old brain knows that I just wrote an entire blog post about not writing a blog post about my mother.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Happy Holidays
Ahhh...the first big holiday is almost upon us. That time of year where we all pretend like we're thrilled to be with our families. The crazy Aunt that barely speaks to you, the wild screaming kids, the drunk sister-in-law...
Tomorrow I will conquer holiday air travel with my 5 year old. Alone. My husband decided that the one extra ticket was too much money so he is going to stay home. Alone. I think he just doesn't want to go to my mother's, and that's fine. His parents invited him down to their house. He declined. Our cleaning lady invited him to her house. He declined. Hey, if he wants to be alone, that's fine, but I KNOW he will call me 18 times a day once we're gone. He does it every time. Then I'll get annoyed and he'll get annoyed and HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL!!!
Sunday is his extended family Thanksgiving. He has decided that he wants to go to that. Yep, a day with family that he never speaks to. A day with family that he always complains about. And all this after my 5 year old and I get home at 11pm the night before. Sounds like a blast!
Can't you just feel the joy and love that the holidays bring?
Next up is Christmas where I try to balance my mother with his parents. Once the kid was born we told all parties involved that we were no longer traveling for Christmas. Santa comes to OUR house and OUR house only. For some reason his parents can't get the idea that they should come on the opposite year. Y'know, like my mother comes this year and his parents come next year. And I "favor" my mother since she has to buy airline tickets to get here. His parents can drive up whenever they please. It's not that far.
Anyway, two years ago my in-laws decided that they were going to come and stay for a week. No asking, no consulting, just decided. When they told us of this decision I promptly flipped shit and told my dearest that there was no way in hell they were doing that. I wouldn't even let my own mother stay for a week. In any case, that created World War III. Me wanting personal space somehow equaled me hating his parents and never wanting to spend time with them. And people wonder why I drink?
So here's to another year of family, friends and booze. Here's to hoping you don't remember the insults but DO remember what you are really thankful for.
Tomorrow I will conquer holiday air travel with my 5 year old. Alone. My husband decided that the one extra ticket was too much money so he is going to stay home. Alone. I think he just doesn't want to go to my mother's, and that's fine. His parents invited him down to their house. He declined. Our cleaning lady invited him to her house. He declined. Hey, if he wants to be alone, that's fine, but I KNOW he will call me 18 times a day once we're gone. He does it every time. Then I'll get annoyed and he'll get annoyed and HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL!!!
Sunday is his extended family Thanksgiving. He has decided that he wants to go to that. Yep, a day with family that he never speaks to. A day with family that he always complains about. And all this after my 5 year old and I get home at 11pm the night before. Sounds like a blast!
Can't you just feel the joy and love that the holidays bring?
Next up is Christmas where I try to balance my mother with his parents. Once the kid was born we told all parties involved that we were no longer traveling for Christmas. Santa comes to OUR house and OUR house only. For some reason his parents can't get the idea that they should come on the opposite year. Y'know, like my mother comes this year and his parents come next year. And I "favor" my mother since she has to buy airline tickets to get here. His parents can drive up whenever they please. It's not that far.
Anyway, two years ago my in-laws decided that they were going to come and stay for a week. No asking, no consulting, just decided. When they told us of this decision I promptly flipped shit and told my dearest that there was no way in hell they were doing that. I wouldn't even let my own mother stay for a week. In any case, that created World War III. Me wanting personal space somehow equaled me hating his parents and never wanting to spend time with them. And people wonder why I drink?
So here's to another year of family, friends and booze. Here's to hoping you don't remember the insults but DO remember what you are really thankful for.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Zzzzzzzzzzzz
I am a grouch in the morning. Regardless of how much sleep I get, I am a grouch. If you call before 10am, the house better be on fire or someone better be dead. You're lucky if I even answer the phone before then. And don't be surprised that I don't want to chat at whatever ungodly hour you call. I barely talk to my own kid before 10am. Just a lot of grunting. When the Top Gay and I travel together we don't speak before 10am. We'll get up, eat breakfast, drink coffee and just stare at our surroundings. It's just understood that there is no communicating in the morning. It's why we get along so well.
This morning the alarm went off at it's usual 7am. Annoyed, I slapped the snooze button. Then I realized that I was suppose to be at work EARLY today. Then I also realized that due to Murphy's Law, the damn dog didn't wake me up at 5am like usual. Argh. So I finally dragged my sorry ass out of bed and got in the shower. I tried to remind myself that this is only a 2 day work week for me, but that still did nothing to lift my mood. See, I'm a sleeper (and a champion napper). Always have been. When I was a kid, my mom would have to wake me up 5 or 6 times every morning just to get me up for school. Then I would be pissed at her and she would be pissed at me. This is how we started out every single day. On the weekends, I was allowed to sleep until 10am. Then she would wake me up saying I didn't need to sleep any later. If she was feeling particularly pissy, she would start vacuuming at 9am.
In college, I slept until 12 or 1pm. If I had an early class, I would just sleep through it. I wouldn't even TRY to get up on time. One year, my Top Gay and I each had a class at about 10am. We made a deal that we would get up, eat breakfast at the Student Union and then go to class. This worked fine until I realized that the Top Gay was eating and then going back to the dorm to sleep. I was pissed that I was too tired to think of this myself.
In my early working days I didn't even have a cube. Just a desk. A desk in a room with 3 other desks. No privacy. I would try to sit quietly and not speak. Sometimes people would attempt to engage me but they quickly caught on that speaking to me in the early morning was not a good idea. Especially if they liked having their head attached to their body.
Now I'm fortunate enough to have an office with a door. A luxury that I use often. I'm still training the crew here on the idea that if my door (or any door for that matter) is shut, you KNOCK. You don't just bust in at your leisure. You don't knock and open the door at the same time. I mean, would you do that if you were going into a bathroom? A dressing room in a store? Someone's home? No, you wouldn't. So don't do it here either. My door is shut for a reason and if you value your life, you'll knock. Especially if it's before 10am.
This morning the alarm went off at it's usual 7am. Annoyed, I slapped the snooze button. Then I realized that I was suppose to be at work EARLY today. Then I also realized that due to Murphy's Law, the damn dog didn't wake me up at 5am like usual. Argh. So I finally dragged my sorry ass out of bed and got in the shower. I tried to remind myself that this is only a 2 day work week for me, but that still did nothing to lift my mood. See, I'm a sleeper (and a champion napper). Always have been. When I was a kid, my mom would have to wake me up 5 or 6 times every morning just to get me up for school. Then I would be pissed at her and she would be pissed at me. This is how we started out every single day. On the weekends, I was allowed to sleep until 10am. Then she would wake me up saying I didn't need to sleep any later. If she was feeling particularly pissy, she would start vacuuming at 9am.
In college, I slept until 12 or 1pm. If I had an early class, I would just sleep through it. I wouldn't even TRY to get up on time. One year, my Top Gay and I each had a class at about 10am. We made a deal that we would get up, eat breakfast at the Student Union and then go to class. This worked fine until I realized that the Top Gay was eating and then going back to the dorm to sleep. I was pissed that I was too tired to think of this myself.
In my early working days I didn't even have a cube. Just a desk. A desk in a room with 3 other desks. No privacy. I would try to sit quietly and not speak. Sometimes people would attempt to engage me but they quickly caught on that speaking to me in the early morning was not a good idea. Especially if they liked having their head attached to their body.
Now I'm fortunate enough to have an office with a door. A luxury that I use often. I'm still training the crew here on the idea that if my door (or any door for that matter) is shut, you KNOCK. You don't just bust in at your leisure. You don't knock and open the door at the same time. I mean, would you do that if you were going into a bathroom? A dressing room in a store? Someone's home? No, you wouldn't. So don't do it here either. My door is shut for a reason and if you value your life, you'll knock. Especially if it's before 10am.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Vampires and Werewolves and Whiny Girls, OH MY!!
Yep. It's New Moon weekend. It's not something I ever thought I would blog about, but here I am. I guess what sparked it for me was logging on to Facebook and seeing just about every single status updated referencing the movie. Egads. Now, for the record, I did read the entire series (all 4 books) in about a a week and a half all while completely ignoring the needs of my child. But whatever. I was sucked in. I loved it. I sat at work and stared at the clock counting down the minutes until I could get home to finish the book. I would spend half my day trying to figure out what time I could skip out of work so that I could get to the bookstore, pick up the next book and still get to daycare on time. I don't know what sort of magical powers that Stephanie Meyer has (other than her magical underwear), but she got a hold of me (wait...maybe this is a world takeover by the Mormons!).
Last year when Twilight came out in the theaters, I found a friend/neighbor that was secretly geeked about the series to go with me. Yes, I whispered "Edward" to her and she immediately knew what I meant. We did the secret handshake and were on our way. ANYWAY, when we got to the theater we were the two oldest people in attendance. I mean, you would think we were seeing the Curious George movie or something. Wow. I'm thrilled that kids are reading, but some of those kids just seem YOUNG. And it showed when they spent half of the movie just giggling when Edward and Bella would get close or kiss. But again, I guess with the good hearty Mormon values of abstinence before marriage, it not all THAT bad for kids, right?
So flash forward to this week. Slowly the Facebook status updates started to reference the movie. Yesterday it went pretty full blown with every grown woman I know posting about how they were going to some midnight showing of the movie. They were sending flair to each other and quoting lines from the book. Did you know there are people that even had whole passages from the novel tattooed on their backs?! (no, no one I know...thank god) Now, I can understand how the idea of someone like Edward would be appealing. Who wouldn't want a gorgeous, rich man who never ages and is entirely devoted to you? We're only human (har!). But some of these woman are just...obsessed. Like somehow they suddenly can't draw the line between reality and fiction (must be the Mormons again - bring out the golden plates!). Edward isn't REAL! He's too damn perfect to be real. And if he WAS real, he wouldn't settle for that whiny brat Bella! And he certainly wouldn't let her name their child Renesmee for cryin' out loud.
But I digress.
So while I WANT to see the movie (and I will see it), I cringe just a little bit thinking about the looney bin that I'm being lumped into. I wonder if anyone will show up in their Michael Jackson ensembles?
Last year when Twilight came out in the theaters, I found a friend/neighbor that was secretly geeked about the series to go with me. Yes, I whispered "Edward" to her and she immediately knew what I meant. We did the secret handshake and were on our way. ANYWAY, when we got to the theater we were the two oldest people in attendance. I mean, you would think we were seeing the Curious George movie or something. Wow. I'm thrilled that kids are reading, but some of those kids just seem YOUNG. And it showed when they spent half of the movie just giggling when Edward and Bella would get close or kiss. But again, I guess with the good hearty Mormon values of abstinence before marriage, it not all THAT bad for kids, right?
So flash forward to this week. Slowly the Facebook status updates started to reference the movie. Yesterday it went pretty full blown with every grown woman I know posting about how they were going to some midnight showing of the movie. They were sending flair to each other and quoting lines from the book. Did you know there are people that even had whole passages from the novel tattooed on their backs?! (no, no one I know...thank god) Now, I can understand how the idea of someone like Edward would be appealing. Who wouldn't want a gorgeous, rich man who never ages and is entirely devoted to you? We're only human (har!). But some of these woman are just...obsessed. Like somehow they suddenly can't draw the line between reality and fiction (must be the Mormons again - bring out the golden plates!). Edward isn't REAL! He's too damn perfect to be real. And if he WAS real, he wouldn't settle for that whiny brat Bella! And he certainly wouldn't let her name their child Renesmee for cryin' out loud.
But I digress.
So while I WANT to see the movie (and I will see it), I cringe just a little bit thinking about the looney bin that I'm being lumped into. I wonder if anyone will show up in their Michael Jackson ensembles?
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Story Topper
Story Toppers. They exist everywhere. I tend to run into them a lot in the workplace. You know the type. You tell a story and they constantly have to one up you.
"What do you do?"
"I sell food to jails."
"I worked in a jail once!"
So today I'm sitting in my office minding my own business and TMI comes in. I call her TMI for obvious reasons (did you know she currently has a yeast infection? Yeah, you're welcome). Anyway, TMI comes in and we start discussing our mutual (and fabulous!) gay hairdresser. She went to see the gay last night. She told me how they get along SO WELL and how they text every now and then. I kinda find this hard to believe but it may be true. Then she starts in with how she just has this way with gay men. She doesn't know what it is, but she is just drawn to them and they are so much fun!
Now, TMI is a fairly hard core Christian. Her kid goes to a strict Christian high school. The kind of school with a handbook and dress codes and a place where they will literally paddle you for disobedience. So tell me, where does the whole "I'm tight with the gays" come in to play here?
TMI falls into the Story Topper category because I, too, have a gay best friend. I actually have a lot of gay friends in general, but one holds the top honor. In any case, TMI knows of my Top Gay. She knows we do almost everything together even though I'm married (well, you know what I mean!). So I'm not sure if she's trying to relate to me or outdo me or a bit of both, but frankly I don't care. If you have gay friends I think that's great. If you don't, it's your loss. But I really don't care either way. I'm not going to be friends with you or not friends with you based on your fag hag status. This holds true for just about anything (I do draw the line at foot fetish people. That's just sick). We're all different and unique and kumbaya and all that shit.
But TMI made me start thinking of my last workplace Story Topper. We'll call her The Falcon. Why The Falcon you ask? Because one day she went to her car, in her garage, and there was a FALCON sitting on her car. Let me repeat, a FALCON. Um, we live in middle america. In cornfields. How many falcons are just flying around? None, that's how many. But apparently one sought her out and decided to take refuge on top of her 1999 Ford Windstar.
The Falcon also likes to tell how she had a pet raccoon when she was a child. Rocky the Raccoon would sit on her shoulder and watch tv with her. Of course Rocky the Potentially Rabid Raccoon never bit her her anyone else. He was a unique raccoon that just happened to like living a more civilized life. Well, one day, Rocky got the boot. I don't remember why he got the boot, but he did. Upon telling me this, The Falcon got sort of wistful and gazed off into the distance. Then told me how some time later, Rocky appeared at the back door. TF got down on her knees to look at Rocky and just like that, he put his paw up to the window. TF put her hand up to window as well and they shared a tender moment.
Sweartagawd.
I really wish I had a voice recorder of some sort so you would know that I'm not making this shit up.
"What do you do?"
"I sell food to jails."
"I worked in a jail once!"
So today I'm sitting in my office minding my own business and TMI comes in. I call her TMI for obvious reasons (did you know she currently has a yeast infection? Yeah, you're welcome). Anyway, TMI comes in and we start discussing our mutual (and fabulous!) gay hairdresser. She went to see the gay last night. She told me how they get along SO WELL and how they text every now and then. I kinda find this hard to believe but it may be true. Then she starts in with how she just has this way with gay men. She doesn't know what it is, but she is just drawn to them and they are so much fun!
Now, TMI is a fairly hard core Christian. Her kid goes to a strict Christian high school. The kind of school with a handbook and dress codes and a place where they will literally paddle you for disobedience. So tell me, where does the whole "I'm tight with the gays" come in to play here?
TMI falls into the Story Topper category because I, too, have a gay best friend. I actually have a lot of gay friends in general, but one holds the top honor. In any case, TMI knows of my Top Gay. She knows we do almost everything together even though I'm married (well, you know what I mean!). So I'm not sure if she's trying to relate to me or outdo me or a bit of both, but frankly I don't care. If you have gay friends I think that's great. If you don't, it's your loss. But I really don't care either way. I'm not going to be friends with you or not friends with you based on your fag hag status. This holds true for just about anything (I do draw the line at foot fetish people. That's just sick). We're all different and unique and kumbaya and all that shit.
But TMI made me start thinking of my last workplace Story Topper. We'll call her The Falcon. Why The Falcon you ask? Because one day she went to her car, in her garage, and there was a FALCON sitting on her car. Let me repeat, a FALCON. Um, we live in middle america. In cornfields. How many falcons are just flying around? None, that's how many. But apparently one sought her out and decided to take refuge on top of her 1999 Ford Windstar.
The Falcon also likes to tell how she had a pet raccoon when she was a child. Rocky the Raccoon would sit on her shoulder and watch tv with her. Of course Rocky the Potentially Rabid Raccoon never bit her her anyone else. He was a unique raccoon that just happened to like living a more civilized life. Well, one day, Rocky got the boot. I don't remember why he got the boot, but he did. Upon telling me this, The Falcon got sort of wistful and gazed off into the distance. Then told me how some time later, Rocky appeared at the back door. TF got down on her knees to look at Rocky and just like that, he put his paw up to the window. TF put her hand up to window as well and they shared a tender moment.
Sweartagawd.
I really wish I had a voice recorder of some sort so you would know that I'm not making this shit up.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Memememememememe
Ok, so I'm the first to admit that I'm selfish. I am. I know it and embrace it. When people ask why I only have one kid, I tell him "because I am selfish." I like having my own time. I like spending money on ME and not daycare and roller skating birthday parties. I love to travel to far off places. I like living my life for me and not for other people (although I still do a lot of that). So why am I ready to rip the heads off of the selfish people at work? Well, here's the story.
So word goes out that the boss is turning 40 and everyone goes into a tizzy. People start bitching that we aren't doing anything for him. Fine, so we decide to do lunch and cake. Of course now no one will take the responsibility to order the food. So like a fool, I volunteer. Since this group is opinionated, I just picked a lunch place and ordered sandwiches, sides and drinks. Done. Total is $9 per person. Nothing crazy right? I mean, you can't even go out and buy lunch around here for less than that unless you go to McDonald's. And even then you make up the difference in Pepcid. So I send out the email asking people for the money. Afterall, I fronted the cost of this meal on my own personal credit card. Right now, I'M buying lunch for these selfish bastards.
At first a few dollars trickle in. Then I get the first phone call. A 45 year old woman giggling while telling me she doesn't have the money. "I can decorate if you want." Um, ok, but you putting up decorations doesn't pay my Visa. I'm not in management so I'm not sure how far I can push back and get nasty with these people about paying. So I just kind of sit silently on the phone while she giggles nervously about paying. Then she tells me "Well, I thought we weren't doing anything since we are going to that party for him?" "That party" is a surprise party that HIS WIFE is throwing for him. A party with a full buffet of prime rib, salmon and chicken and whatever else, a DJ, the works. A party that is FREE for us. So I inform her of all of this and say it would be pretty shitty of us to not even acknowledge his birthday at the office regardless of whether or not his wife is doing something.
Dead silence.
Then I get an email. Another woman is claiming she can't afford the $9. Ok, so I know times are tight and we are all scrimping where we can, but it's $9. $9 for the man that signs your paycheck and gives you a bonus twice a year. The man that is allowing you to work 10+ hours of overtime PER PAY PERIOD! I know you have the money. COUGH IT UP!
Fast forward to Friday of the same week. The Giggler sends out an office wide email (we're a small group) asking who wants to order lunch. Get that? ORDER LUNCH! The same kind of lunch that no one has money to pay for when it means celebrating their boss. So I sit quietly and seethe about it. Then I forward the message to management and bitch to them about how selfish people are.
Later that day The Other Cheapo overhears a conversation I'm having about how I got a new FREE iPhone (thanks tech geek friend R!). TOC goes on and on about how she and her husband have iPhones and they can't live without them, blah, blah, blah. Um, iPhones aren't cheap. especially depending on which model you have and when you purchased them. So essentially you're saying you can afford 2 iPhones and the calling plans that go with them, but you can't cough up $9 for lunch for your boss. Okaaaaaay.
It's easy to judge (and judge I do) from a distance, but really, I know they have the money. I know they got paid overtime. And a lot of it. That's extra money right there. Money that you don't normally get. And it's a helluva lot more than $9.
So today I had to send out a reminder email about the lunch and asking the people that haven't paid, to now pay. Lunch is coming tomorrow and the dough is getting charged to my credit card. Now I'm getting the third degree from people who haven't paid about what we are ordering. As if they will decide to participate or not based on what we are having.
Random Selfih Bastard: "So what is for lunch tomorrow?"
Me: "Sandwiches, chips, potato salad and iced tea."
RSB: "From where?"
Me: "Does it even matter?"
RSB: no response
I plan on standing guard at the kitchen with my list of people that paid. Everyone else can kiss my ass.
So word goes out that the boss is turning 40 and everyone goes into a tizzy. People start bitching that we aren't doing anything for him. Fine, so we decide to do lunch and cake. Of course now no one will take the responsibility to order the food. So like a fool, I volunteer. Since this group is opinionated, I just picked a lunch place and ordered sandwiches, sides and drinks. Done. Total is $9 per person. Nothing crazy right? I mean, you can't even go out and buy lunch around here for less than that unless you go to McDonald's. And even then you make up the difference in Pepcid. So I send out the email asking people for the money. Afterall, I fronted the cost of this meal on my own personal credit card. Right now, I'M buying lunch for these selfish bastards.
At first a few dollars trickle in. Then I get the first phone call. A 45 year old woman giggling while telling me she doesn't have the money. "I can decorate if you want." Um, ok, but you putting up decorations doesn't pay my Visa. I'm not in management so I'm not sure how far I can push back and get nasty with these people about paying. So I just kind of sit silently on the phone while she giggles nervously about paying. Then she tells me "Well, I thought we weren't doing anything since we are going to that party for him?" "That party" is a surprise party that HIS WIFE is throwing for him. A party with a full buffet of prime rib, salmon and chicken and whatever else, a DJ, the works. A party that is FREE for us. So I inform her of all of this and say it would be pretty shitty of us to not even acknowledge his birthday at the office regardless of whether or not his wife is doing something.
Dead silence.
Then I get an email. Another woman is claiming she can't afford the $9. Ok, so I know times are tight and we are all scrimping where we can, but it's $9. $9 for the man that signs your paycheck and gives you a bonus twice a year. The man that is allowing you to work 10+ hours of overtime PER PAY PERIOD! I know you have the money. COUGH IT UP!
Fast forward to Friday of the same week. The Giggler sends out an office wide email (we're a small group) asking who wants to order lunch. Get that? ORDER LUNCH! The same kind of lunch that no one has money to pay for when it means celebrating their boss. So I sit quietly and seethe about it. Then I forward the message to management and bitch to them about how selfish people are.
Later that day The Other Cheapo overhears a conversation I'm having about how I got a new FREE iPhone (thanks tech geek friend R!). TOC goes on and on about how she and her husband have iPhones and they can't live without them, blah, blah, blah. Um, iPhones aren't cheap. especially depending on which model you have and when you purchased them. So essentially you're saying you can afford 2 iPhones and the calling plans that go with them, but you can't cough up $9 for lunch for your boss. Okaaaaaay.
It's easy to judge (and judge I do) from a distance, but really, I know they have the money. I know they got paid overtime. And a lot of it. That's extra money right there. Money that you don't normally get. And it's a helluva lot more than $9.
So today I had to send out a reminder email about the lunch and asking the people that haven't paid, to now pay. Lunch is coming tomorrow and the dough is getting charged to my credit card. Now I'm getting the third degree from people who haven't paid about what we are ordering. As if they will decide to participate or not based on what we are having.
Random Selfih Bastard: "So what is for lunch tomorrow?"
Me: "Sandwiches, chips, potato salad and iced tea."
RSB: "From where?"
Me: "Does it even matter?"
RSB: no response
I plan on standing guard at the kitchen with my list of people that paid. Everyone else can kiss my ass.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
The Cheap Thrill of Impending Doom
Last week, a friend was kind/evil enough (thank you A) to share a link with me about rapture insurance. You (The Christian) hire me (The Atheist) to care for your pets after the big day, assuming you’ll be too busy living in eternal bliss/hogging up eternal rewards to do so. I don’t know why, but apparently, the animals don’t get to go.
Which confirms the inarguable fact that Christianity is big business (and goddamnit, I want in!). OK fine, I am way too lazy to start my own business, but not so lazy that I don’t have a business idea. Mine is, and always has been, Jesus and his various merchandise (because devout followers will buy ANYTHING, i.e., rapture insurance).
So, for fun, I poked around to see what’s out there and found that you can order just about anything online, which surprises me. For example: anointing oil. I admit, I have no idea what this is but isn’t it supposed to be….holy or something? Otherwise, why have anointing oil, right? I guess I envision monks with cauldrons praying over smoky batches of goo to give it just the right amount of heaven/jesus/nirvana…I had no idea it can be ordered, in different flavors (Lily of the Valley is sold out, btw) from a warehouse in Pittsburgh. Does this also mean that Catholic “holy water” comes from the tap right to the special, pre-determined places on your face?
Clearly, I understand very little about religion and its rituals but – like most Americans - I do know a thing or two about shopping/consumerism/convincing people they need stuff and have compiled a short list of possibilities.
1. The Delicious Wafer/Christflesh. I’ve had maybe two of these in my entire life but they sorta taste like something they put in your mouth at the dentist. Flavors include: extreme nacho, ranch, barbeque and soy (are vegetarians allowed to take communion? because technically it’s considered meat, right?)
2. Biblibs (a Madlibs equivalent). Create your own hilarious/convenient version of the Bible! An ice-breaker at parties and less restrictive than the originals. Feel like celebrating your impending marriage with hookers and blow? With Biblibs, no problem! Also available: Torahlibs, Qur’anlibs, and Book-o-Mormonlibs. (Scientology not available because that book is already so. funny.)
3. Disposable Magi’panty. For the mature Mormon in your life who also suffers from frequent episodes of crapping his/her pants.
WARNING: If you steal my ideas and make yourself rich, I will come after you with my highly unethical and sometimes violent attorney (this means you, rapture insurance guy). Unless you give me some of the money, then, we’re cool.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Let's talk about Jesus
So, I live in the midwest. It's Jesus Country. I knew that when I moved here but still went through with the move anyway. My in-laws are Jesus people so I thought "how bad can this be?" Well, I'm beginning to learn.
I have two "friends" on Facebook. And I use the term friend loosely. In any case, one "friend" likes to take photos of the sunrise on her way to work. Then she posts them on Facebook. Ok, whatever. So "friend" number 2 (also known as The Martyr) responds to the photo saying how beautiful it is. "Friend" 1 says the sunrise comes from a beautiful place (read: heaven). The Martyr (TM) agrees and says she is anxious to see this place, but for now, the view from afar is beautiful.
Ok, now really? It's a sunrise. Did you not take the earth science class that I was required to take in junior high? And for the record, I'm totally open to people believing whatever they want to believe. Just don't push that shit on me. Don't tell me you're praying for me as if I'm some heathen who will be bound to eternal damnation just because I didn't recognize the work of Jesus in the sunrise.
So in response, I took this photo from my office window this morning. See the cross? Yeah, that's Jesus giving me a sign.
I have two "friends" on Facebook. And I use the term friend loosely. In any case, one "friend" likes to take photos of the sunrise on her way to work. Then she posts them on Facebook. Ok, whatever. So "friend" number 2 (also known as The Martyr) responds to the photo saying how beautiful it is. "Friend" 1 says the sunrise comes from a beautiful place (read: heaven). The Martyr (TM) agrees and says she is anxious to see this place, but for now, the view from afar is beautiful.
Ok, now really? It's a sunrise. Did you not take the earth science class that I was required to take in junior high? And for the record, I'm totally open to people believing whatever they want to believe. Just don't push that shit on me. Don't tell me you're praying for me as if I'm some heathen who will be bound to eternal damnation just because I didn't recognize the work of Jesus in the sunrise.
So in response, I took this photo from my office window this morning. See the cross? Yeah, that's Jesus giving me a sign.
Here we go....
Well, the title says it all. I've been thinking about doing this for some time now and my friend, and co-blogger, H pushed me to finally just do it.
Hope you enjoy!
Hope you enjoy!
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