Quick Shout Out

There are a few couples among our friends that share the month of June for their wedding anniversary. Mine and my hubby's is this Saturday, 21st, and we are celebrating 6 years married, 11 years together. Wow, how time flies! So to everyone else celebrating their love, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

You think you can do better?

I'm starting to realize that I work with a bunch of freaks. Let me rephrase that...no, that's about as nicely as I can put it. I have the talker, the stalker, and there's the guy that questions everything I do. He's not even a manager, he's simply one of those people that just doesn't know his place. "Why are you bringing in product at this time or that time," is all I hear from this guy. "I don't use this, why are you bringing it in?" Because you're not the only person in this G*D#AMN company, that's why! I'm seeing some old clicks form again too which is starting to cause a major upheaval among the employees. There's always a rift, and I hate being in my office where everyone passes me going to and from the production floor. I keep my half door closed to try and deter some of them, but it's not working. If I close it all the way then I'm being "anti-social". And my boss wonders why I hate people. To take a line from a great movie, "A person can be smart, but people are stupid." Meaning with one you can make them understand, but a group of people can become a riot. Right now I'm looking at a riot. With the crap I deal with at work, I could have finished my PsyD and charged half of these people for therapy. The funny thing about all of this is that the only people I really get along with at work are all women. It's the men who bitch and moan! Talk about changing of the times.

Senoirity "Rules"

There seems to be a misconception at work that whomever has been here the longest has more seniority. Not true. There also seems to be a misconception that if the person is higher on the totem pole then they are right. This too is untrue. There are rules that we all must abide by, regardless of time served or title. Lately, both managers and long-time employees have been taking it upon themselves to make decisions for this company that, quite frankly, are none of their G#%D@mn business. We have procedures that must be followed, and we have people in positions to do certain jobs that do not require outbursts from the 'peanut gallery'. I'll write more about our 'peanut gallery' at a later time as I am still ranting on this first issue.

There is another misconception that when we emphasize communication and teamwork it does not mean everyone needs to know everyone else's business. In a recent email from the 'powers that be'(I'll discuss them later also) there was a wonderful new way to communicate. Below is a list of INSTEAD OF and TRY SAYING that have become quite useful. A big thanks to one of the Powers That Be for this.

Number 1
TRY SAYING: I think you could use more training.
INSTEAD OF: You don't know what the fuck your doing.

Number 2
TRY SAYING: She's and aggressive go-getter.
INSTEAD OF: She's a fucking bitch.

Number 3
TRY SAYING: Perhaps I can work late.
INSTEAD OF: And when the fuck do you expect me to do this?

Number 4
TRY SAYING: I'm certain that isn't feasible.
INSTEAD OF: No fucking way!

Number 5
TRY SAYING: Really?
INSTEAD OF: You've got to be shitting me!

Number 6
TRY SAYING: Perhaps you should check with...
INSTEAD OF: Tell someone who gives a shit.

Number 7
TRY SAYING: I wasn't involved in the project.
INSTEAD OF: It's not my fucking problem.

Number 8
TRY SAYING: That's interesting.
INSTEAD OF: What the fuck?

Number 9
TRY SAYING: I'm not sure this can be implemented.
INSTEAD OF: This shit won't work.

Number 10
TRY SAYING: I'll try to schedule that.
INSTEAD OF: Why the fuck didn't you tell me sooner?

Number 11
TRY SAYING: He's not familiar with the issues.
INSTEAD OF: He's got his head up his ass.

Number 12
TRY SAYING: Excuse me?
INSTEAD OF: Eat shit and die!

Number 13
TRY SAYING: So you weren't happy with that?
INSTEAD OF: Kiss my ass!

Number 14
TRY SAYING: I'm a bit overloaded at the moment.
INSTEAD OF: Fuck it, I'm on salary.

Number 15
TRY SAYING: I don't think you understand.
INSTEAD OF : Shove it up your ass!

Number 16
TRY SAYING: I love a challenge.
INSTEAD OF: This fucking job sucks.

Number 17
TRY SAYING: You want me to take care of that?
INSTEAD OF: Who the fuck died and made you boss?

Number 18
TRY SAYING: He's somewhat insensitive.
INSTEAD OF: He's a prick.

Number 19
TRY SAYING: I'm not at liberty to discuss that information.
INSTEAD OF: It's none of your fucking business!

Number 20
TRY SAYING: I'll get back to you on this.
INSTEAD OF: Leave me the fuck alone!

That's creepy!

As if the heebiejeebies from a stranger weren't enough! So here I am at work, in my office, speaking with a coworker with whom I actually enjoy, when one of the freaks that I don't get along with comes up and asks if he can take my picture. Now mind you, the question of getting a new work camera came up earlier this week. It was a matter of buying a new one and I'm the buyer for the company. So my response, "Um....NO!". His reply, "I knew you would say no." Then why did you ask me, dipshit?! This is the really creepy part...it was his personal camera! Now I really need to go home and scrub myself with a wire brush! What am I, a magnet for douche bags? I need a concealed weapon. This is just getting uncomfortable.

You're still talking?

Just to recap on the earlier post about the annoying coworker that talks to me EVERYDAY about my time in the Marines. Today, for the gazillionth time, he asked what I did in the Marine Corps. My answer..."I killed people." That got him to walk away without another word. Life is really fun sometimes!

Is it just me?

Wow, the nerve of some people! Maybe it's just me. Have you ever been complimented by someone and it made you completely disgusted? I feel so mean saying this, but I was complimented by this person that (1) doesn't know me from Jack, and (2) gave me the heebiejeebies upon first impression. I'm talking Buffalo Bill, "It puts the lotion on it's skin..." kind of heebiejeebies. Have you ever felt that way about a person and had them compliment you only to make feel even more uncomfortable? I seriously wanted to run home and take a wire brush to my skin under scalding hot water!

Here I am, minding my own business in the store, when I see someone I do know from work standing in line. They say "Hey how's it going," and I wave. The person behind them, that I've never met before in my life, pipes up and says "Damn, you're looking good." I didn't respond. I kept walking and ended up just leaving because I was so disturbed by this person. Am I mean for feeling this way??

I don't think of myself as a snob, sometimes a bitch, but never a snob to look down on a person for the way the look. I like to think that I try to present myself in a classy manner, but I know I look the devil sometimes and hope people don't get the wrong impression of who I really am. However, a person can just give off bad vibes no matter what they look like. This was one of those people! So is it just me?

Letters to my boys

I've never been able to keep up with my sons' baby books, granted one of them is only 6 months old, so I came up with another way to cherish their childhood moments. A friend of mine got in on an "at home business" that is similar to the candles and makeup pyramids. This one, however, was all about family traditions. One particular product really stood out that I had to have. It's called "Letters to my dear sweet child" that is used like a memory box. You write a letter every year to your child, you can add pictures or mementos, and you keep them in this box until their 21st birthday. Twenty one days before they turn 21 you send them a letter every day then on their birthday you give them the letter for that year with the memory box. It's a really neat idea if you can (1) remember to write the letter, and (2) can write. Considering I write everyday, and I'm much better at expressing their childhood memories on paper than trying to squeeze it all in a baby book that only goes up to their first year, I'd say this will do perfectly. Now that we have two boys, my husband wants in on the letters to express how different it is raising a 10 year old compared to a 1 year old and what they will each go through that is similar and different at those ages. It's been really fun so far and I'm looking forward to seeing their faces when they are older as they read about themselves.

Why are you talking to me?

Ever meet a person that finds out something about you and assumes that's the only thing you do? I know one of those people. This person is a coworker who comes to my door every day at work, and I mean EVERY DAY, with a new quote, bumper sticker, joke, story, or picture about the military. Yes, I served in the Marine Corps. Yes, I'm very proud of my time on active duty. Yes, I enjoy the occasional chat about the military. But don't assume that I care to share personal details of that time, especially if I don't tell you about my current personal life! The absolute worst thing this person has asked, and he's not the only idiot to ask,is whether or not I've ever shot someone.

My first reaction was, "Ever heard of friendly fire?" I thought better of it, and replied, "I'm not at liberty to answer that question." The real answer? How the hell should I know?! I was a radio operator. Any one of those coordinates I called in could have been for the demise of an enemy. Do I care? I care enough not to think about it. I have a family and life as a civilian for a reason. That should be answer enough.

On a side note: technically I have 'shot' someone, just not in the service and it wasn't fatal. My brother, God love him, was the type of boy that loved all kinds of weapons growing up. He had an arsenal of BB Guns, knives, throwing stars, you name it. One day we were rough-housing with my sister, and I grabbed the BB gun from him as she put him in a head lock. He and I were usually the close ones, but that day he had made me mad so I enlisted the help of my older sister. He laughed saying the safety was on so I pulled the trigger. The safety was not on, and the BB hit him smack dab in the middle of his forehead! Ha! Okay, it wasn't funny at the time, especially when our mom came home and got after us with the belt (yes, were disciplined as children unlike today's brats). It's funny as hell now when we all get together and joke about our childhood adventures. So in future conversations with people who are dumb enough to ask such a question...my answer will be yes. Yes I have shot someone. With that answer I shouldn't have to elaborate.

The Female Woman Dr.

It's that time of the year. I had my 6 month post partum check-up today. During the "female woman doctor" visit, my cell phone started beeping. This was to let me know I had a new text message. I ignored it, then BEEP BEEP BEEP it goes again a minute later! My Dr. looked up at me (hence I was lying back with my feet in the stirrups--not the fun horsey kind!) and asked, "Do you need to get that?" "No," I said and apologized for not turning my cell phone off. BEEP BEEP BEEP, again. What the..! So after ignoring the beeps and the following reminder tone (a loud version of a choochoo train!) the Dr. finishes up and I get dressed. We go over my BC method and I apologize for not turning my cell phone off again.

I get out to my Jeep and look at my phone...it's my husband. Nice. So I send him this text..."I'M AT THE VAGINA DR.! WAIT!" He got the picture. Then a few minutes later I get this text, "Well, how did your appointment go?" Are you kidding me?? He left himself wide open on that one. "South". Needless to say I followed up with a phone call to him once I got back to work. All went well and I'm still pushing for a hysterectomy or tying them suckers in a knot; I'm very happy with my two boys, but don't think I can handle another one any time soon!

The point of this rant is to push the issue, as is a dear friend of mine (LL), GET YOUR BOOBIES CHECKED! And get your annual OB/GYN appointment done. It's important that women are aware at all ages. Cancer does not discriminate, and there are too many 'female' problems that we tend to overlook. Take care of yourselves.

Attack of the Garage Door

Today is tough in my writing world. I'm without the use of my left middle finger, the "D" finger on my keyboard and all other keys that my middle finger clicks. You see, I was attacked this morning.
It happened something like this: Here I am, rushing out of the house to get my 3rd grader to school for the last day before summer break begins. Mind you, I have my 5-1/2 month old son in the back of the Jeep as well. I pull out of the garage, hit the button on the remote to close it, and nothing. I remembered the issue we had with it over the weekend not closing properly and did a quick check of the sensors. No green lights were lit and I didn't have time to mess with it. So, I yanked the chord to release it from the motor and went to shut it manually when...OUCH! Sonofa&*^%$! My left middle finger got caught in between the panels and SMASH! It flattened my finger from behind the top knuckle to the tip of my fingernail. Blood immediately started spurting--more like gushing--from under my nail. At least it was releasing the pressure so I didn't rush to the ER. My oldest son tried to come to my rescue but was grossed out at the sight of the blood and reclused back into the Jeep. I wrapped my whole hand in a wet dishtowel and drove my manual 5 speed to my son's school. He was late. My 5 month old, thank God, was being an absolute doll during the whole chaos.
I get home and I'm having to do everything one-handed as the bleeding still has not stopped. My baby boy is grabbing at me as I'm trying to get him out of his carseat and what does he get hold of...yep, again OUCH! I fianlly get changed into my work clothes, jeans--which were a pain to button, and flip-flops--as I gave up after the jeans and couldn't tie my sneakers. I threw on a baseball hat--Yankees, of course, and off we went again. Work was hilarious as most of my job is done on a computer. Needless to say I was not very productive today. In the time it took me to type this blog post I would have normally written 4-5 pages of my book. So thanks to my garage door and my impatience, my deadline for my book just died. I'm having to reschedule a few dates, but in the end my "pen" will still be mightier than my "sword".

Hurricane Season...the drinkin' kind

Hurricane season starts the first of June and doesn't end until November 30th for all of us here on the east coast. Other states have regular seasons such as Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. Not in Florida. Nope, here we have two seasons, Hurricane and Hot. In the event we have a cold spell (anything under 75 degrees) you will see a bunch of tan Floridians walking around in sweatshirts, shorts, and flip-flops. The cold never lasts more than a few weeks so we don't count it as an actual season.

Originating from Louisiana, I know a thing or two about "hot" and "hurricanes". My idea of both comes in the form of a season--a drinking and eating kind of season. Hot is for food, and Hurricane is my favorite alcoholic beverage. In recent years I have had the pleasure of treating my fellow Floridians to a few dishes and some good drinks, but never a real Hurricane pary like we use to have back home. No, I'm afraid no one does the Hurricanes like they do back in Louisiana. So while we may have a few storms touch the coast or blaze a trail across Central Florida, it's just not the same without the original Hurricane.