I for sure didn't die

I don't suppose I have anything too interesting to share. Let's see, I went to Jamaica - that was a highlight of my life! I'm still in school. My son is starting high school and my daughter is starting 5th grade. I have a new (great) job where I do barely anything and they think I walk on fucking water. Still blissfully in love. I, frankly, feel a little guilty about having nothing scandalous or salacious to share. The ex is still in California (as far as I can tell). My stepdaughter is 20 and she has 3 jobs...which as we all know means that she'll have a hard goddamn life for a long while until/unless she figures out that she needs education and stability. My stepson is still a marine - he will be going to Europe at the end of this summer.

I am adoring this Olympic season, even though very few Canadians are winning stuff. It's a battle between the US and China for world athletic dominance. Which...if you look at it, I guess represents the real political atmosphere, doesn't it? China doesn't boast and brag, but the come in a sweep up in medals (read: money and loans). The US is braggadocios and boisterous and expected to win everything (read: expected to beat China).

Anything else exciting? Not really. I have the same smart phone I've had for almost 2 years. That's kind of a big deal. I eat a lot more fruit now. Which makes my colon very happy. I did get a new tattoo for my birthday. It's badass, but now I want more...I want to connect it to something bigger. I just don't know how or what.

So, as you can see, I've been as regular and boring as the rest of you. Nothing calamitous, nothing earth-shattering....basically just a normal, happy, underrated life.

For now.

Maybe janitors just don't ever eat??

I am kind of fucking MORTIFIED at the moment. This new job is pretty cool. I'm still "just" a secretary, but this time, my desk/cube is RIGHT by the kitchen. Bonus! Also, I'm in charge of a conference room and whatever leftover food there is, I put in the kitchen for the vultures to descend upon. I'm Vulture #1 - I get my plate before the creepers start breathing all over everything. Don't fucking judge me, I'm a germophobe and most Americans don't wash their hands nearly enough. You've read my buffet restaurant blog, yes? No? Go find it...it's down there somewhere.

I noticed the other day that, no matter WHAT I've put out as left-overs, the cleaning lady never touches it. Not one time have I seen her sneak a cookie or take a box lunch. I just now asked her:

Me: I notice you never take any food when there is food available in the kitchen.

Very adorable cleaning lady: oh, no! I don' feel right about eet.

Me: Why? You don't like it? I can understand that, if you don't like the food.

Very adorable cleaning lady:  no, I like eet. I just feel that I'm not supposed to touch eet.

Me: o_o Um, WHY THE HELL NOT? You work here, right? The food is for everyone, yes? I work here, you work here, we all have the same right to the same food that is left out for EVERYONE.

Very adorable cleaning lady: ok, ok. *grin* thank you. Now I feel better. I just thought I wasn't allowed to touch eet.

Have we done this??  Have we created this society and this culture of shame and displacement? I think we have. I think that I'm not the first person to notice the lady never touched the food. I bet I'm the 25th person who noticed. HOW can I be the first person to ever say "you're welcome to any food"? It's disgraceful that an employee would feel like such a low class of staff member that she wouldn't be afforded the opportunity to eat if she's hungry and the food is available. The fact that most of us turn a blind eye serves to reinforce her feeling of insubordination and "our" feeling of superiority, whether conscious or subconscious. We perpetuate the class warfare and we don't even know it.  But you know what? The Very adorable cleaning lady knows it.

Just passing through...nothing to see here...except maybe a leprechaun

I'm so damn busy that I haven't been on facebook more than 5 minutes in the past 2 weeks. New job, weird hours (sometimes), school started, my kids' activities, cooking, cleaning....basically all the regular mom shyte. I'll post something worth posting soon.

OH!! OH!!!  I'm going to New Orleans for St. Patty's day. I hope to have stories of green puke and leprechauns when I get back. I am actually going with 7 other girls....one of whom is a dwarf. No. I'm not kidding. I hope no one throws a pot of gold at her....wait. On the other hand.....

The Help

I promise, if I ever earn a position of quasi-power, I will NEVER treat my subordinates like furniture. I won't.

One of the main reasons I am starting a new job next week is that I do not have any flexibility to deal with my kid stuff. At this current job, if my kid gets sick, my boss (and her boss) say things like, "you DO know that EAs don't have the luuuuxury of working at home." On a Tuesday in December when it was 20 degrees outside and my furnace went out and we were all huddled between space heaters and the fireplace for the night, I had to be home during the next work day to have my new furnace installed. (Did I mention....20 degrees??). And, I got the "you DO know that EAs don't have the luuuuxury of working at home" spiel. To which I responded, "what would you suggest I do? I can wait until Saturday. I certainly hope it doesn't get any colder." FUCKTARDS. Any other person in my office (besides "the help") would have just said, "I'm having a furnace installed. I'll get to the office when I can." BUH-BYE.

My point is this: I am fully functioning, 42-year old, intelligent parent of human people. I'm not an idjit, I'm not slow, I don't need special accommodations, I can read and write, I understand every aspect of my job perfectly. I'm not a piece of office furniture. If you have to make me feel like a piece of shit in order to make yourself feel more powerful...? You've got the wrong bitch. I'll be respectful and accommodating. I really will. BUT when you start treating me like the house nigga (or worse yet...the field nigga), I get all irked and I start becoming very difficult.

About once a week, my boss comes in late or leaves early or takes an extra long lunch so she can go to a kid event. I think it's GREAT! As a fellow mom, I appreciate her taking the time out of her very precious day to do a kid thing. I do not have that luxury. I understand perfectly well that, on the professional food chain, I'm right near the bottom. I get it. However, as a fellow MOM, I would have expected the boss-lady to have some compassion or at the very least, some understanding and flexibility enough to allow me to enjoy the occasional kid event during a work period.

I am now in full pursuit of an actual career. My new job is still in a support role. However, my new boss is known for developing his staff. After I earn my BS degree, I will (hopefully) move within the new company. I do not plan to eat shit for much longer.

I'm leaving 30 minutes early from work today to get my son to his basketball practice on time. The fuck are they gonna do? fire me? Smoke THAT bitches!

Whoremoans are REAL

Normally, I am a very balanced and sane person. However, last week, I had the inevitable post-hysterectomy mental incapacitation. I decided, in my crazed stupor, that I would go through my man's cell phone to see if he's cheating on me. HUH?  You're wondering if I had any reason to suspect him of cheating? No. None whatsoever. Except the WHOREMOANS told me to do it and I believed them. They are very powerful.

I went through his phone and saw a text to some chick named "Venus" that stated Hey baby! when are we going to lunch. I'm getting hungry. LOL! HOLY SHITBALLS! He's having lunch with some chick he calls "baby". WAIT! I'M BABY!!

After dissolving into a puddle of tears for the next 2 days straight, like a fool, I asked him about it. Because I couldn't reason with myself that it wasn't what I thought it was. I know some of you readers will think I'm being naive, but when I tell you he wouldn't cheat, I mean he'd cheat as much as I would cheat. We think the same way on this: if we want to step outside the relationship, each of us is free to do that. Just make your way out...and don't bother coming back. No hard feelings. So, I asked him about the text and he was a) shocked that I'd checked his phone; b) was very disappointed that I didn't trust him and; c) he explained that he and his friends had been swapping phone while they were in Vegas the week before - the text was from his friend Bip to Bip's girl, Venus. And here's how I know he was telling the truth: because he always spells "Hey" as "Hay" and he never uses the LOL. Also? There would have been 2 to 3 other spelling errors in his text. Again, I'm not being naive. I just KNOW how he writes. So. I believe him and I curse the fucking whoremoans to hell for making me THAT GIRL.

In other news, I have quit my job. Unfortunately, the firm has asked me to stay on for the term of my 2 week notice. I was hoping they'd tell me to fuck off and kick rocks so I could go home and get paid to lay around for 2 weeks. My new job allegedly starts on March 5th. Yeah, I said allegedly. I took a pee test today as part of the pre-employment testing. I don't do drugs, let me just say that now. But my man smokes copious amounts of weed. In the evenings after the kids are asleep he sits beside me and smokes his herb. I don't know if it has ever been proven if a contact high is real or not real. I guess I'll find out when my pee test comes back. It would REALLY suck to fail a pee test based on not having smoked weed since 1994.

I also had to complete a "physical" for the pre-employment test. The physical consisted of my height, my weight, could I read a line on a vision testing chart and could I touch my toes. When the nurse gave me the thingy to cover my eye for the vision test (cover one eye, read, then cover the other eye and read), I stared at the instrument with horror. "Uh, can someone clean this off for me? Sorry, but I have no idea how many filthy eyeballs have been on this thing." Last thing I need is herpes of the fucking eye because some creeper didn't disclose his STDs.

I should have kept last week's whoremoans. It's easier to do stuff I don't want to do when I am able to be a complete raving bitch the whole time I'm doing it.

Life changes maybe shouldn't happen when you're high

But then again....maybe they totally should. I wasn't high when I started this change, but I'm periodically on pain meds now. Someone could successfully argue that being high is not the right time to make life changes. But I would never hang around those people, so....fuck 'em.

I have mentioned before that I'm sort of unhappy about my job situation. I'm a lot happier lately, but only because I'm being paid to stay home for the past 4 weeks. I don't know if that counts as being happy with my job CURRENTLY. In any event, it seems I have talked myself into a new job. I had an initial interview in December, but I had a second interview about 2 weeks after my surgery. It seems they would like to hire me as soon as possible. They have even sent me an offer letter. There are a few loose ends that need tied up before I can accept their offer, including negotiating an extra benefit to which I would not be entitled as a new employee.  Also, I would very much like to collect my bonus and dividend from the current company which pays out this month, but is based on last year's performance. It will take some slick PR work on my part, but I think I can make it all happen without hurting too many feelings. In the long run, the only feelings that matter are mine, Because, just so happens, I live with myself every day and I'll likely never see any of those other people again.

My son is driving me insane. He's 13 and a total fucktard!! I hope he loses some of the attitude by the time he's 16. He's ADHD and hyper off the charts when he's not on his meds. I try to keep him burning his energy. Right now he's in track, baseball and basketball! He has enough energy for every person in my house. He has the type of energy people sell on street corners in front of liquor stores in the 'hood. Some days I wonder how much I could get for him if I sell him at those liquor stores.

I'll take my leave now. The tylenol 3 and glass of wine are calling...in harmony.

Rather enjoying the medical vacation

Besides the fact that I'm missing several organs and I have stab wounds in my abdomen and sometimes it hurts to poop, I am quite enjoying being taken fully care of and not having to do one.damn.thing. If you really want to know the level of someone's love and devotion to you, go have surgery. You'll find out in a matter of days whether your loved one has enough love to take care of you like an invalid. I have drawn the line at bathing me, but otherwise, my love has literally done everything for me. I even gave him a grocery list the other day and asked for AZO tablets for a suspected UTI and he brought me AZO "Yeast infection" tablets by mistake. But he BOUGHT yeast infection tablets...that's like buying tampons x1000.

Today is two weeks since my hysterectomy. I probably shouldn't be smoking and drinking already, but, let's face it, I'm a hedonist - I'm all about MY quality of life. So, I do as I please. Other than those habits, I'm healing well, I think.

I'd like to insert something witty, but I gave away most of my painkillers, so I'm not nearly high enough to be joke-y.

Removing organs is no picnic.

I had planned, in my naivete, to post regular updates about my hysterectomy. It appears, however, that I am a shit patient and I really don't feel like being a poster child. This shit is for the birds. Recovery SUCKS hairy fetid balls. The only shining beacon is my family which has been incredibly supportive. The man is the best nursemaid e.v.e.r. - he dotes on me. So much so that I'm uncomfortable...I'm not used to having someone care so much for ME that he stands quite figuratively in my shoes. He is doing all the kid taxi/sports/school stuff, he cooks, cleans...the whole nine yards.

Anyway, I've only come here to say I'll come back here when I feel better and my mood isn't somewhere between murderous and maudlin.

Cheers.

More talk of female plumbing

I regret to inform you that soon I will be off work following a hysterectomy and will probably be posting drug-induced blog updates about my female parts.

I am scheduled to have the da Vinci method (robotic arm) hysterectomy and cervix removal on Friday, January 13th. What's that? Do I know that's FRIDAY THE 13TH? Why yes. Yes, I do. Just so happens that's always been a good luck day for me. And while I'm not nervous about the procedure itself, I am nervous about which things will work or NOT work a few months from now.

I made the huge mistake of visiting a "support website" for hysterectomy patients. I know what I'm getting into, but sweet baby Jesus on a ritz cracker...these women could put on a doom and gloom clinic. After visiting the website I am now convinced that I will be sexually dysfunctional to the point of no penetration whatsoever, I will gain 80 pounds, I will have severe anxiety and hysteria for the rest of my life, and terrible, unspeakable things will happen all over the world. Apparently a woman's uterus removal can cause the world to stop spinning. I just really wish I hadn't gone to that damn website.

And YOU?! You will have the pleasure of following all the high drama and talk of my human internal organs for the next couple of weeks. Unless I'm too high on pain killers...then I"ll just disappear and reappear in February like nothing ever happened.

Wish me luck, bitches!